Posted: 6.22.07

Words without A/N: 1,430


Namaste all! I know this type of story is greatly overused, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted it to be a drabble, but then it got over 100 words and then over 1000 words, so just a oneshot. Could you pleaz leave a review even if you hate it? Reviews here are more than appreciated, they're loved! I take flames, God knows I'm used to them from my sister.


I Wish You Were Here

The musty black curtains spring open with some trouble. No wonder, they hadn't been opened in years, the previous occupant hadn't much cared for the sunlight. Dust flies off them in a wave and sunshine spills into the room and onto the wrought wooden floors, illuminating the deep red stains covering the place. The young man looks around at the room he had rarely seen, the room that looks so alien and yet so familiar. He raises his hand to extinguish the candle that still burns dimly by the aging desk. He pulls out the seat that his brother had often been found in, pouring over some ancient books trying to soak in enough knowledge to outwit his genius of a sibling.

The raven haired man picks up the large tome and flips through the pages, trying to get some idea of what his brother had been doing all those hours, those days spent in these volumes seeking who knows what knowledge. And then he finds it, dog-eared and worn. The page that his brother had dedicated hours to. And then there it is, underlined several times and circled many: Horcruxes.

The man lifts the book and brings it to the window so the morning sun can grace it in light. The page is covered in ink and drawings…maps of long forgotten places, and sketches of various, unrecognizable objects. He closes the tome…it is nothing he understands, nothing that matters to him, really. But to his brother, to his brother it had meant everything. And he can't quite place why. He reseats himself in the old, worn wood and looks through the desk's insides. Many things spill out in front of him. Pictures of the two of them that the man didn't even know existed. Maps that look similar to the previous doodles in the large tome. Large books containing forbidden information, and finally…something interesting.

He lifts it slowly, examining the object he never knew about. He runs his fingers over the rough leather binding, and finds himself unable to open it. Out of respect for it's previous owner, or out of fear for what it might contain, he can't open it…but he is a Gryffindor, they know how to face up to things…he has to open it…

At last he takes the small, dark blue book to the window, and places himself upon the dirty sill, preparing himself for what he might discover. Finally, he finds himself lifting the cover away from the first page, and he begins to read…

All sorts of entries greet his eyes: not sure what to do…scared…frightened…unsure…what do I do? I wish I could tell someone…I wish Sirius would listen…I wish my brother would hear me… And then finally: I've decided… I'll do it. And then the next page is blank, and the next, and the next. The man flips through the pages faster now, trying desperately to understand what happened. Frustration overcomes him, and he throws the book at the wall, cursing it and cursing himself. And he looks down at the blood dirtying the floor…his brother's blood. The blood he shed for reasons the man would never be able to learn.

He runs his hands through his hair slowly and presses hard on his eyes so daisies dance before him. He clenches his fists hard together, willing himself to gain control, wondering how he could get so upset over a person he just barely knew. And then he looks up at the little blue book, now lying slumped against the wall. And something catches his eye, something that has spilled out of the diary and onto the floor for him. He hesitates, then slowly approaches it and grasps it in his hands, realizing for the first time how much he wants to know. All this time, all this time of pretending not to care, of blowing off the death as nothing, acting as if his brother meant nothing, telling himself the Death Eater deserved what he got, and finally he would know.

He lifts the paper to his face, willing himself to reread over and over what is writ there in solid black ink, in the handwriting he finds himself familiar with.

I knew you would come here, Sirius. Your mind was always too inquisitive to let it be. You said you didn't care about me, and I said the same about you. We pretended not to care, and went our own ways, you with your friends, and me without anyone. I really never realized until that day you left that I would ever miss you so much…but when you did, the halls became quiet, and the sun was not let it any longer. You were the only one that ever opened the window, sometimes I would go to your room, and I'd want to, so I could see everything the way you did…but then I'd stop myself.

I'm getting off topic…I know you want to know what happened, and I suppose since I'm most likely dead right now, I can tell you. I know you found my books, and you don't know nor want to know what Horcruxes are. All I can tell you is I've destroyed one, and it's very important to the war as well. It might very well help bring Voldemort to mortality…at least I hope it will.

And I know it's a silly thought, but I'm dead now anyway, no sense in worrying about shame or embarrassment. But all the same, it is a silly thought, and I don't know why I'm thinking it, but I wish you were here. We never really got close enough to be brothers the way you and James were, but still, I miss you. You were always there, Sirius, at least until you ran away. When I was too scared to take the blame, you took it for me. And when I was scared of a lethifold killing me in the night when I was five and you were six, you laughed at me, told me one would never be in England, but you stayed with me and told me you would sleep on the outer side of the bed so it would get you first.

You just…weren't there when I needed you most. And I know it won't do any good for you to be with me now, but I wish you had been there when I made that stupid decision. That would have made it all so much easier. I wish you had been there when they asked me to be a Death Eater, because I wanted someone behind me, to back me up. And you were the only one I could think of.

Imagine what Mother would think if she found out both of us came out wrong? I wonder if you'll tell her, and strangely a part of me wants you to. I suppose it would give me some pride, that for once I broke her rules. As much pride as a dead man can have…

I'd like to say so much more, but I can't. I hear them knocking as I write this word. What luck they have, Mother isn't home; I'm the only one here. They're here to kill me, Sirius, and still all I can think of is I wish you were here.

Your Brother,

Regulus

And the man finds himself open mouthed, wanting to tear the paper to shreds and at the same time wanting to keep it safe forever. And then a familiar yet unwelcome sound greets him, the opening of a door. The taking off of a coat, and the click of low heels. And suddenly he's running, running out of the house filled with so many distant, unwanted memories, still clutching the parchment in his hand. He runs past his mother, who is now screaming at him and demanding he tell her what he's doing in her house.

He runs past her, doesn't even glance back, doesn't care what she thinks or says because she never understood. And he only finds himself stopping blocks away in the park where he and his brother had spent many days in. He looks down at his sweaty palm, still clutching the paper he had waited so long for. And he wonders why his brother left it for him, and not for his mother, and how he knew that he would come for it. And he realizes he knew his brother more then he had ever admitted, that he should have noticed, that he should have been there.

End