I.
They say that even a deaf person can play music.
Ba-dum! Crash! "Aaaand so I-!"
Uuuuurrgggh.
People shouldn't tell such lies.
"Je-jreng! Bang!' "WEEE'lll BEEEE TOOOO-!"
Definitely a lie. The proof is screaming in front of me.
Drums banging. Electric guitar screeching. Is that a bass?
"NEVER SAAAAYY GOOOODBAAA-!"
That, is The Prat's horrible voice.
" HOOOLLDD MY HAAAAND-!"
And his partner-in-crime, The Idiot.
"Screeeeeccchh!" The Always-in-a-Sweater,
"Bang! Crash!" and The Rat.
They four of them call themselves "The Marauders".
"YEEEAAAAAAHH-!"
"The Prat and His Goons" suit them better.
Huh, who am I, you ask?
Regulus Black. Nice to meet you too.
II.
"Hey Reggie, pass me the jam."
Suppresing a sigh, Regulus chucked the innocent jar of strawberry jam at his brother.
"HEY!"
"I told you not to call me Reggie."
Sirius grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like little bugger before proceeding to drown his toast in jam from the jar, that somehow did not break.
Meanwhile, Regulus was sitting across the table, his left hand occupied with the-little-green-spoon-only-used-for-eating-cereals and his right hand flipping The Daily Prophet.
"Sport Section: The Roaring Riot lost to The Hissing Serpent, 3-10. Complete annihilation. You owe me 10 bucks."
His brother frowned. "What? No way, give me the paper."
Regulus raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe me?"
"No."
"I'm hurt."
"You're not."
"How do you know?"
Sirius opened his mouth. And closed it. He opened it again. Closed it.
"You look like a gaping fish."
His eyebrow twitched.
"Ah, now you look like a tomato."
He was going to kill the little bugger. Someday.
"You're never going to kill me."
What the hell?!
Regulus held in a snicker as his, now furious, elder brother stormed out of the dining room. His attention was quickly averted when Kreacher leapt onto the handsome mahogany table and quickly seized the half-eaten toast-soaked-in-strawberry-jam. The 14 year old boy eyed the cat amusedly.
"We're on a good start for the holls, Kreacher."
The cat flicked it's tail in response.
III.
"So, your friends are coming over."
Sirius swivelled in his seat to look at his brother. Regulus was trying hard, and failing, to hide his distaste.
"How did you get in my room?"
"Wasn't locked."
Sirius' eyes narrowed. He definitely had locked it.
"How did you find the spare key?"
Grey eyes regarded him coldly.
"I didn't," Regulus proceeded to plop down on the bed.
"Don't lie to me."
"Am not."
The 15 year old growled. Regulus sighed. His brother had the same patience capacity as his mother, which is to say, none at all. For all Sirius hates his mother, he certainly inherited a lot from her.
"When are they coming?" he asked, changing the subject.
His brother was, thankfully, unaware. "After lunch."
Reg hummed noncommitally in reply. Silence then took over and reigned the room, both brothers lost in their own thoughts.
Suddenly Sirius heard a (very girlish) shriek. And a bark. Lots of barks. Laughing hard, he turned to see Reggie being pummeled by a, very big, very large, dog.
"Padfoot, here!" he whistled.
The big mass of black hair came bounding towards him and started licking his face.
"Who's a good dog? You are, Yes. That's it. Atta boy."
Meanwhile, Regulus was busy dusting his, now messy, white shirt. Who wears shirts as everyday wear? His brother apparently. Reggie has always been a bit vain. Strangely enough, he's attached to the color white, even though the kid was always spewing nonsense about their family. We're Blacks, Sirius. Family pride and all that.
Just in time, Kreacher strutted past the bedroom's open door. A hiss and a bark later, both pets had disappeared, bounding down the hallway.
"You're still keeping that ugly grey cat?"
"You're still keeping that sorry excuse of a mutt?"
Sirius' bark-like laugh resounded.
So, today he's on a good mood. Not surprising, considering the situation, thought Regulus.
With their parents on a business trip, the both of them had a house to themselves. A very big house. One of those extremely expensive and large mansions with a swimming pool and a golf course for rich snobs house. Minus the golf course. They don't really have a use for those kinds of stuff.
Back to the point, the whole house was theirs, and so Sirius decided to invite his group of friends (goons, really) to practice. They've made a band out of sheer impulse, "The Marauders" Sounds like a bunch of juveniles. Reg will never forget how his eyes became so tired after rolling a trilllion times the day Sirius told him.
And so now a bunch of idiots will be arriving to practice in the soundproof room downstairs. A mini cinema, really. After all, they can't exactly practice at Potter's place after the neighbors' complaints and the other two houses are out of the question.
Regulus fell back on Sirius' bed and closed his eyes. Lately they've been getting into a lot of arguments, and truth be told, Regulus is afraid Sirius is replacing him with his friends. They used to go on adventures and pranks when they were younger. He would never forget the time Aunt Druella's hair turned green, oh that was a good one. But they went to school, befriended different people, and started fighting with each other. Not like they didn't before, but it's worst now. The arguments never ended.
It's not his fault, really. He can't just sit and stare while his brother torture his best friend. Although Snape does tend to ask for it. Reggie is true to his principals and number one : Brothers don't fight with one another's friends. Full-stop.
Ahh, I'm exhausted.
He fell into a fitful sleep.