Painted Figures
He sobbed, the sound echoing through the dark cavern. When had life finally taken this turn? Regulus looked down at the cup, dancing around his hands. The liquid swirling with the motion.
How many moments had he lost? How many seconds had there been leading up to this very instance when in truth it never really had to be?
It wasn't meant to end like this.
He remembered a time when he had clutched to his brother's hand. He remembered a time, when as boys, they had danced around the backyard. Their game of hide and seek one of comradeship, friendship and even more importantly, one of brotherhood.
The stories he had left unwritten, the pictures he had yet to draw. Regulus almost smiled, one almost bittersweet in memory. Oh how he had drawn! He remembered how it felt as the pen flowed across the page. How nimble, usually so ungraceful, hands had once swished over the paper. Line after line sketched, drawn and brought to life.
He remembered how to draw. He remembered the figures painted, now walking a life of their own. He remembered how it was to walk on your own.
Oh how he remembered.
How scared he had been when first the hat had silently proclaimed him Ravenclaw. Then how ashamed he had grown of it years later. Now he thought of how wrong he had been is begging for Slytherin. Of how much a coward he truly had been.
Regulus gave a sigh, a sigh once so suffering now one of freedom. His heart as black as his name he raised his glass. One last toast as he gulped.
He remembered how is was to walk a life of his own.
An unknown grave, an untold story, a life never begun.
Oh god i love Regulus. Please tell me what you think, I have an idea for a muti-chapter Regulus centered fic, but i really want some honesty on what you guess think about the way i write Regulus. And anything else you care to tell me about! ^^ Please review, even if it's two words long.
-- MopCat --