'Ello, kids. I finished the 7th Harry Potter a while ago and even since then the relationship between Sirius and Regulus has interested me. What exactly is this about? You'll have to read and find out. The product of 2 hours of hard labor is before you! . . . (cough) . . .
Enjoy.
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"Ohh . . ." Harry groaned in unison with the old spring mattress as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed.
Ron shifted in his sleep and snorted to his right.
Hermione remained still to his left.
He stumbled past Ron's bed, tread cautiously on the squeaking floor boards, and finally reached the weathered pine door.
His stomach grumbled impatiently as he snuck across the hallway and down the first set of stairs that marked his way toward the kitchen for a late night snack.
A sudden muttering caught his ear as he passed by a certain hallway and a certain room: Kreacher's usual ramblings and complaints.
And then . . . another sound.
Not snoring or mutterings, nor a cricket outside or the rustling of a sweet midnight breeze through the leaves of the trees in the park just across the way.
No.
This was a new sound. A sound of a sort of muffled loss or moaning, not exactly a cry nor a whisper.
Harry paused in his newly planted footstep, the grumbling in his stomach forgotten. He cocked his ear to the sound in curiosity and puzzlement. What could emit such a . . . a noise?
He took one light footstep past the door that hid a disgruntled Kreacher and another toward the strangled sound of a howling wolf, coated in the want for the taking of missed opportunities.
Harry stood in front of the door in total memorization. What could have possibly happened to the creature (for that's what it sounded like) for it to harbor that much pain?
He examined the door behind which the animal veiled itself. His hand reached for the handle and jiggled it lightly. It was locked-
The whispered wail tapered into an even quieter tone of despair, as if it had heard Harry, but was quite too absorbed in its moment of utter emotional destruction to care.
His raised his hand, his eyes following slowly as if in a trance. His fingers met a cold, golden plaque inscribed with a name he could scarcely read in the dim light: Regulus Acturus Black.
Suddenly, the moaning stopped completely.
Harry jerked once, immediately snapped out of his quiet reverie by the requiem's unexpected halt. He heard a chair scrape the floor and footsteps making a slow, world-weary gait abrade the wooden boards.
There was a rustling of clothing and something tapped the door knob with a dull thud.
"Alohomora." A gruff voice sounded, a locked clicked, a knob turned, and a man stood in the doorway in front of Harry. He wore a scruffy, black robe and no shoes. Tears coated his face and the look of a woeful mourner haunted his eyes.
Those eyes met Harry's and softened instantly into a look of hidden sadness masked by fake happiness.
Sirius Black stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. "Hello, Harry." "Sirius, -" Harry began. "I'm sorry, Harry. Would you excuse me?" His voice suddenly rang in a detached sort of way.
Harry stood in the hallway, slightly stunned, as Sirius made his way across the hall to his own room; and as he rounded the corner something in Sirius' left hand caught the dim light of the dying hallway lamp.
A picture frame.
Fin.
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Review? Maybe(YES)?