Yes I am aware that Regulus and Sirius were actually around three years apart. Here there is only one school year's difference between them because I didn't want to wait that long before sending Regulus up to the school as well.

Red leaves, like the floating beads of color in a lava lamp, were slowly spinning, falling, and waving to the ground outside the window. The young boy watched them sway and drop, like deep, burgundy blood spilling from an open wound. A few strays struck the panes of glass. He didn't flinch. The season was changing, life was changing, there was death in the air (life changes by dying) apparent in the dry, cracking leaves that, devoid of their rich, green veins in their old age, turned red, shriveled, and let the wind take them away.

[September 1

[Regs, I promised, didn't I? That I'd write right away and say 'hi?']

Regulus found death a curious thing. He angled his head, letting soft, black hair shift on his scalp, cover part of his face, and he watched. He watched the tree shed its dead leaves and wondered if it was all the better having lost them.

The air in the library was still, the room quiet. Regulus didn't dare speak because it would be like breaking it, shattering what existed in the room, and broken things had a way of getting to him. Almost silently, he padded carefully away from the window, and walked down the nearest row of books, brushing his fingers across the spines lightly as he went, making imaginary music on the dusty leather.

The days were always quiet now, without Sirius. Slow, and silent. Grimmauld Place was haunted, almost dead at times with its liveliest member gone away to boarding school. Regulus tried to calm himself with thoughts of the next September, when he would be gone, watching different leaves die and fall: Hogwarts leaves. But Regulus knew that he could never truly be gone of this house. It had, over the years, reached out for him, slowly grabbing him, and as he grew, he grew around its grasp, connected, entwined. Although the tendrils stretched, and they would stretch when he left for his First Year, they would always still be there, waiting to pull him back, an ever present tug from behind.

[Kind of hectic, really nervous, of course, but don't go spreading THAT around!]

He thought of his brother, and wondered if Sirius felt their housetheirfamily's grip, iron tight, on his shoulder as well. Like small leaves on a tangled tree.

Sirius…

Brother…

Regulus worried.

Sirius's letter had arrived yesterday, as promised, a short note of excitement and worry, and love. It was almost comforting, in a way, to see that Sirius's handwriting remained unchanged, that he was still the same. The house selection, well, that had been a surprise, but Regulus had never put much store in labels anyway, at least not in those made by others. He would create his own opinions of people, thank you. What good is a hat's word as to what you really are? He thought.

Yes, the letter had come very promptly, and Regulus couldn't help but feel that was his doing. He had, in a fit of the most uncharacteristic kind, pleaded with Sirius to not cut him off, to not leave him, all alone, in a confining house with no one to talk to. Letters, he demanded them, right away, immediately, while you're still on the TRAIN if you must. Anything to keep him busy, and Sirius had obliged and sent his owl back the very night of September first, and promised to send more regularly.

But Regulus was already embarrassed of his minor lapse of face. And he knew Sirius's promise was an empty one. He would not write again, not unless he needed something. Perhaps it wouldn't be on purpose, he would just be so busy and excited. But that was beside the point. Regulus expected no more messages from his brother. And he didn't reply to the first.

"Master Regulus," said a crisp voice from the library door. The voice killed the silence; it sliced Regulus out of his reverie. He peered around the bookshelf, dust floating around his face, lit up in motes by the morning sun streaming in the east facing window. Kreacher was meeting his gaze with a clean stare. "Mistress will be awake soon, and Master already is. They will be calling you for breakfast, soon," he said, rapping short, young fingers on the doorframe.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Regulus, and the servant left with not a bow, but a nod. "They probably shouldn't know I've been hiding out in here all morning…" he murmured. "I might not be able to do it again."

Regulus walked leisurely back to his room and closed the door quietly, and then he waited. When his mother's footsteps sounded past his ears, he opened his door and stepped out behind her, following. She did not greet him.

The entryway to the wine cellar loomed dark and foreboding. Nothing could have been more enticing at the moment.

"Kreacher!" Regulus called, and within the minute, the servant was beside him. "It's nine in the morning, Kreacher; you should really be more alert than this. Now, Mother is out and Father is in his study." Regulus grinned crookedly, his arms folded.

"Yes, Regulus?" Kreacher questioned, dropping the title because he felt there was no need for it. His eyes were wary.

[I miss you terribly, of course. I really do. But I'll see you at Christmas. I'll be coming home for Christmas.]

"So…let's go down," and with that, Regulus pushed open the door roughly with both hands, and began to step down into the impeding darkness. Kreacher stayed still at first, and then grimaced when he heard Regulus stumbling about in the pitch black. Sighing, he snapped his fingers and the cellar flooded with amber light.

"Huh," Regulus exclaimed from his position of the dusty floor. He nodded, eyeing the flickering lamps and candles. "Smart idea."

Kreacher decided to get the formalities over with as soon as possible. So, while Regulus dusted himself off and began rummaging through the wooden cases, examining years and flavors, Kreacher cleared his throat and began in a monotone, "No, really, Master Regulus, you are too small. You are ten years old, this is a bad idea and if you are caught by Master or Mistress, then the consequences will be most dire. Not to mention that you could potentially cause yourself a great deal of harm, oh yes. I think—"

"Calm down, Kreacher," Regulus laughed, swinging a bottle filled with deep, purple liquid idly in one hand, and flourishing a suddenly procured wand in the other. "Mother and Father," he continued, putting an alarming emphasis the words, "Are still freaking over Sirius's little color scheme trick. A Lion!" Regulus scoffed. "To them it's the worst betrayal yet! Does it matter what I do? I would be surprised, hell, I would be astonished if either one of them even remembers they have a son called Regulus!"

"Regulus!" Kreacher's eyes looked suddenly two times too large. "Is that Master's old wand?" He pointed to the wand Regulus now twirled in his left hand. "Not only may you not have that, but there is a reason Master got a new one! It is broken, Regulus, you shouldn't mess with it, you'll hurt yourself! Why he hasn't gotten rid of it—"

But Regulus was not one for listening to doubting Thomases, and so he jabbed the wand at the cork in the bottle, which promptly flew out of its prison with a satisfying POP and landed on the floor in the cellar. Regulus smirked and made a gesture with his shoulders as if to say, 'see?' "You worry too much, Kreacher," he laughed.

"Regulus you are lucky nothing went wrong. Attempting magic without the supervision of an adult is a risky thing to do. Not to mention illegal. You are only ten—"

"—and a half seconds away, roughly, from being really, really happy, you care to join me?" Regulus held out the open bottle briefly, and when Kreacher blanched, he shrugged and then took a large drink himself. "Now," he said, wiping his mouth. "Let's see if there's anything else worth seeing down here."

"Sirius has worn off on you," Kreacher said with contempt. "You did not used to be so much like him when you were alone. If Master knew..."

"Then why don't you go tell him, hmm?" Regulus was closely examining the wall in the corner, urging the candle floating near his head to hover closer so he'd have more light. "Go ahead, snitch. I dare you."

Kreacher made no move to do anything of the sort.

An hour's searching of the walls and floors, accompanied by many taps with Orion's old wand (something that made Kreacher bite his lip nervously with little teeth every time Regulus did it), failed to reveal anything secret about the room at hand. No secret doors, no tunnels, no nothing.

"Well this room is officially boring," griped Regulus.

"What exactly are you looking for, anyway?"

Regulus threw the half empty bottle to the floor where he'd discarded the others. It smashed and spilled the last of its liquid all over the already soaked ground to settle among the half dozen discarded corks that lay next to the mound of broken glass.

"Something Narcissa said over the summer," Regulus answered sourly.

Kreacher folded his arms. Regulus was quite affected by the wine, he could tell, (even if he had had no more than a few drinks from most of the bottles he had thrown to the ground) and it made him a little cross with the boy.

"Why would Narcissa be talking to you?" He asked coldly.

"She wasn't talking to me!" Regulus exclaimed, sitting down on a stool, another poisonous, albeit unopened, bottle in his hands. He stared deep into it, holding it to his face as he talked. "She was complaining to Andromeda, of course! Angry, still, that they don't have the house, you know?"

Kreacher nodded, slowly. Regulus's words were very thick and slurred, but it was obvious what he was referring to. Narcissa had, more than either of her sisters, always been fairly peeved that Orion had inherited Grimmauld place and not her parents. Although why she'd have wanted to stay there was beyond Kreacher's imagination as from what he overheard during soirees and dinner parties, her home at the Manor was far from unimpressive. He supposed she had some reason for wanting to be in or close to London.

"Andromeda wasn't very impressed, of course, but Narcissa kept going on and on about how great this place is. Then she let slip that she figures there's a secret room hidden here somewhere. Full of cool things like dark artifacts or old torture devices maybe." Regulus looked down at the ground. "It was always more fun searching for it while Sirius was here, but," he sighed. "Not a total waste, look! Huckleberry!" And with that he uncorked the bottle, the cork bouncing twice off the wall in his drunken exuberance, and took a drink of the dark wine. Kreacher groaned.

"Master Regulus, are we done down here yet? Here, we should clean this up before Master notices, and we need to get you somewhere where you can lie down."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Kreacher? They're not going to notice, and if they do, they won't care! It's all in perspective now, you see? They probably won't even acknowledge me for another week or so." For a moment, Regulus looked very thoughtful. Then it seemed as if he'd reached a conclusion. "I don't think I'd like that," he said. And Kreacher groaned.

"I could blame this whole mess on you, you know," Regulus said. "If I needed to. It'd be easy, you know?" He smiled. "Father!" He pretended to yell. "Kreacher thinks you've been drinking too much, look, he's gone and destroyed half your beloved wine cellar. Yes, Father, I know, some of those were vintage!" Regulus laughed cruelly. His words were almost unrecognizable by now.

"You can't even speak properly, Regulus."

Regulus lifted an eyebrow. "Hmm," he said. "Maybe you're right, maybe we should clean up this place; Father won't really miss six or seven wayward bottles. And I should sleep for a while, maybe, right? Get well, we'll pretend this never happened, and tomorrow I'll search in a non-alcoholic room. Maybe I'll just hang around here for a year, slinking around in shadows, avoiding everyone and trying not to draw attention to myself and maybe I'll do everything I can not to upset Mother and Father further, for they are already oh so hung up over Sirius. But the world isn't about him you know!"

"Uh-oh," Kreacher muttered to himself. And he got ready to Apparate to some far off corner of the house to hide. He could see where this was going.

"Let's see then," Regulus slurred. "Instead of all that, yes, instead, how about we test some waters here. I'll make them pay attention to me and let's see how out of whack Father's displacement ego defense mechanisms really are."

Kreacher grimaced and raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers. Regulus cleared his throat and swung his arm down, breaking the seventh bottle on the ground. More wine soaked the wood, and when Regulus spoke, his voice was very clear, unshaking, and unslurred.

"Father!" He called with such a voice that it must carry upstairs. "Get down here. Your son is drinking all your sparkling wine!"

With a CLICK, Kreacher was gone, Regulus sat back down, and all the lights in the cellar blew out as one.

"Really, how did this happen?"

Regulus helped himself to another glass of cider and jerked his head so his bangs fell into his eyes. He adopted an annoyed expression and tugged uncomfortably on the collar of his fancy robes. His uncle's question hung, unanswered, in the air.

Then the question was repeated at him.

"I told you," said Regulus smoothly, leaning down from his seat to pat Kreacher on the head as the elf passed, a tray of hors d'oeuvres almost sent flying from his grasp. "I closed my bedroom door a little too quickly in a fit of angst and my hand got caught. Bruised knuckles, you know." He smiled as Kreacher, slightly cross-eyed, stumbled to the end of the table and set the treats down, blinking rapidly.

"Yes, but," came the startled reply. "Your face!"

"Hmm?" said Regulus, looking up briefly from the finger sandwich he was currently gnawing on. "Oh, yes," he said, swallowing and nodding. "Tragic, you know, Kreacher didn't mean to, but sometimes he is a little careless making tea. Dumped nearly half the kettle all over my arm. Suppose it was partly my fault for letting my arm wander too close in the first place. Terribly painful scalding, I wouldn't recommend it."

Kreacher glared from the corner where he stood, massaging his head.

"Regulus! I mean your face!"

Regulus now seemed moderately interested in his interrogator for the first time. "Why, Uncle Alphard, you really do know my name. Well, I'd say you're a far step ahead of the majority of our relatives. And way to go on remembering that r-e-g-u-l-u-s does not actually make the 'Sirius' sound." Regulus nodded and went back to his snacking.

"Enough, now, you're completely black and blue! Can you even see out of that eye?"

Regulus chuckled and decided to get up before his parents came back into the dining room and this questioning was overheard. "Well, I know Father will be coming back soon from upstairs and you and he will have a lot of business to talk about, Uncle," said Regulus smoothly. "I'll be outside, if you need me, only don't tell anyone that. If the topic comes up, though it won't, tell them I'm in Sirius's room, rummaging through his things."

And then Regulus was gone, out an unwarded window on the top floor, surely, and his uncle was left alone briefly in the dining room, sitting at the scrubbed, wooden table with no one but the house elf for company until either Orion or Walburga returned.

He rubbed his face tiredly.

"Really, now, elf, what was all that about?"

Kreacher opened his mouth, then stopped himself and shook his head. He had talked so very little to anyone other than Regulus lately that it was hard sometimes to keep himself in check.

"Kreacher knows not, sir," he said in a sly voice. "Things is a bit strange here, sir, with Master Sirius, being gone. Kreacher thinks Master Regulus may be missing him something awful, sir." He added in an inaudible whisper, "Not that he'd ever admit to it."

Alphard nodded vigorously. "Sirius being gone does dim down the place. He's a good kid, that one. But the other…I worry sometimes." He shook himself briefly, and then continued. "Orion and I have much to work on for the next stretch of time. I'll be here often, maybe I'll be lucky enough to catch Sirius here sometime on vacation. I miss seeing him when I visit. He'll be back here for Christmas, I presume?"

Kreacher's face turned sour.

[But I'll see you at Christmas. I'll be coming home for Christmas.]

"Master Regulus says surely not, sir."

"Are you done shattering rules for a while now, Regulus?" Kreacher questioned. "You know you're not supposed to go out."

"Mm?" Regulus cocked an eyebrow and looked sulkily at the house elf from his position on Sirius's bed. "Yeah, I'm done," he said, laying down on his back and making to take something out from inside his pocket. He was still winding down from his adrenaline rush of being outside. His clothes were still twisted and windswept, and his hair still smelled like cold fall air.

"And you should have let me fix at least your face before your uncle came. Now he's all worked up—!"

"—over Sirius being gone, nothing else," scoffed Regulus. "And my face is fine, thank you."

Kreacher glared. Regulus finally succeeded in pulling something vaguely rectangular out of his pocket and then held it at arm's length away from his face.

Click!

"Regulus!" Kreacher whispered furiously. "Master Orion's camera!"

Regulus shrugged and took another snapshot of his face against the blue background of Sirius's comforter. "Maybe I want Sirius to see my perfectly okay face."

"Like he'd even care, now put that back Regulus or I will tell Master!"

"No you won't," said Regulus, sitting up and smiling. "After all you're whispering, aren't you? For the express purpose, I assume, of not attracting Father's attention. Admit it." He smirked.

Kreacher stared at the ground, trying to think of something to say. Of course he would never deliberately get Regulus in trouble, or Sirius, for that matter, but especially not Regulus.

"You should get out of Sirius's room," he muttered finally.

"Give me one good reason."

Kreacher looked up and saw Regulus reclining back onto Sirius's bed, stretching his arms. He sighed but said nothing. Regulus smiled triumphantly, but it faded quickly.

"He might care," he muttered. Kreacher sighed in response.

"Come on, then," Regulus said a minute later. He got up, camera in hand. "Let's go take some interesting pictures. We can develop them tonight."

Kreacher looked at him skeptically. "You're going to brew up the potion?"

Regulus nodded innocently.

"And you're just going to borrow the ingredients from Master's and Mistress's stores?"

"Mmhmm."

"And you're going to just wandlessly perform the spell that makes to development potion last because of course you put Master's wand back where it belongs…right?"

"You're silly, Kreacher," said Regulus, grinning.

"Better than being suicidal," murmured the elf, and Regulus smirked like a jackal.

"You should be a photographer, Regulus," Kreacher said with much less sarcasm than was usual. "Some of these are fairly good."

"Mmhmm," murmured Regulus, tacking more moving photographs on his bedroom walls and the inside of his door. Kreacher was sitting on his bed, ears perked up and sifting through a stack of the photographs. For a while there was nothing but the sounds of shuffling photo paper and the swishing of Regulus's slacks as he moved from one end of the room to the other, putting up pictures. Then Kreacher spoke:

"Where did you take this one?"

Regulus glanced at the photo. "Outside," he said. "In the muggle street."

"Hmm…and this one?" Kreacher held the next one out at arm's length and shook it slightly to recapture Regulus's attention.

"Also outside. The backyard, though, beneath that tree."

Kreacher looked at the picture again. A little fox was curled up in the grass, asleep, tail twitching over its nose and long whiskers shivering in the slight wind. The grass was so long it nearly covered the fox's ears. The light was coming in at a very intriguing angle. It made the edges of the fox and the tips of the grass look golden.

"It's a fox?" Kreacher asked.

"Yes, it hangs around here quite often, rummaging for food, I suppose. It looks young, and I suppose its family has abandoned it."

Kreacher took another look at the sleeping animal. Now that he thought about it, it did look awfully skinny and sick. "You're right. It's small. It will most likely die without its parents or litter mates to show it how to survive."

"If you say so, Kreacher," said Regulus in a quiet voice.

Kreacher fixed Regulus with an exasperated look. "Really?" he demanded, but Regulus was busy prying apart two pictures which had become stuck together, and pretended to concentrate hard on not disfiguring either one.

"Regulus!"

"Hmm?" said Regulus, shifting closer to the wall. He seemed to be attempting to hide his face from the elf.

Kreacher jumped down from the bed, glaring hard at Regulus's back. "You've been feeding it, haven't you?" he exclaimed.

Regulus's shoulders twitched. "And so what if I have?" he said indignantly. "What's that to anyone?"

Kreacher flung back his head and stared at the ceiling. "You're going to become attached!" he cried desperately.

Regulus was silent for a few minutes. He finished positioning every photograph except the one of the fox, which he, with a glare in Kreacher's direction, placed neatly in the top drawer of his dresser. "Don't talk nonsense," he said airily.

"No, Regulus, listen…I don't…oh, why can't you have a normal pet?"

Regulus sat down on the floor of his room with his back leaning against his bed. Reaching behind him he took an old book out from under his pillow. In an instant, Kreacher knew it was from Orion's private shelf in his study, but being so worked up over the fox he didn't realize to scold the child about it. Regulus opened the book in his lap and bent his head over it intently. He began poring over its pages, his soft black hair hanging in his face and hiding his expressions.

"Normal pets are boring," he said slowly and without looking up just as Kreacher had opened his mouth again, presumably to reiterate his previous statement.

"Yes, but they're…well, normal and acceptable. And you can have them for a long time. You'll lose your fox, Regulus."

"Will I now?" Regulus asked, turning the page. He still hadn't looked up. "Well I suppose then that's that. And if I do, then isn't it my fault, anyway?"

But Kreacher was not very pacified. "Regulus," he said softly. "Soon, very soon, you will be going to school, and with no one to feed it the baby fox will leave, and you'll…"

"I'll what?" he asked sharply.

Kreacher took a breath. "You'll be alone."

Finally, Regulus looked up.

"You don't want me to have a friend."

Kreacher blinked and thought Regulus was behaving a little out of character, but at the same time he wasn't exactly surprised. "Someone like you shouldn't have friends you'll lose," he said simply. "I just don't think you're stable enough for it." Seeing Sirius when he gets back and realizing you've lost him is going to be bad enough.

Regulus stared hard at his servant, like he could tell what he was thinking. He narrowed his grey eyes not angrily, but almost in warning.

Kreacher tried another approach. "And would it be fair to your little friend?" he asked. "To have someone to play with, someone to look after him, someone to love…and then have that person just disappear for a whole year? And even if he was still here when that year was up…"Kreacher continued slyly. "Suppose you don't want anything to do with him anymore? Is that fair to him?"

Regulus turned the page in his book without looking, and did it so fast he tore it. Not seeming to care, he only said, "Well you have so little faith in me, Kreacher. This is different. I have no intentions of leaving him all alone. I will bring him with me."

"To…to school?" Kreacher sputtered. "He's not exactly a cat or an owl, Regulus!"

"Fixable," said Regulus, shrugging.

"Oh, elf, I'm glad I caught you. Get your master will you? I've been meaning to have a word with him."

Kreacher stared at Alphard with a careless expression, mouth frowning and eyes raking the man's greying goatee.

"Master Orion is at the ministry now with Mistress but they will be back in an hour or so."

"Well it's a good thing I let myself in then, isn't it," mumbled Alphard, and he took his usual place at the kitchen table. Kreacher busied himself preparing some snacks and coffee and the older man didn't stop him. He swung his feet up on the chair across the table from him, feeling an odd thrill from acting so juvenile.

"Where's Sirius's brother?" asked Alphard casually because he found 'silent' too difficult.

Kreacher drew a deep breath. He was angry at Regulus still, very angry, but that didn't change anything. "Master Regulus is out with Master and Mistress," he lied.

Alphard's eyes narrowed. "That the truth?" he asked.

"Yes," Kreacher set a mug of black coffee in front of him.

Alphard ignored the drink and leaned forward intently, eyes narrowing. "Sit down…Kreacher," he said, for once using the elf's name. Kreacher obliged and took the seat across from the man. "Now I know for a fact that's a lie," said Alphard with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Because, now try to keep up with me here, my sister and her husband never take the brat anywhere. Now how is it you lied to me?"

"I…I don't know," Kreacher said softly. He shook his head and backed away until his back hit the wall. "Because Regulus always…? I don't know…" he said again, barely whispering. "I don't know."

[I'd tell you not to be too sad, Regs, but then again you don't really have emotions like normal people, do you? You've always been so different. Like I said I'll see you in a few months, and for god's sake remember that I love you.

[And don't bother writing and asking me all about the people here and the magic. I can't have you arriving here next year more prepared than me, and besides I can't tell you anything even if I wanted to because I don't know. I really, really, just don't know.]

Outside the house a bloodred fall leaf detached itself from its fading green brethren and fell through the air with jerky, rebellious movements. It slipped and slid through the cluster of branches it met during its descent. It aimed for the ground. It skimmed across the tops of several long blades of grass before settling, most unexpectedly, on the muzzle of a very small, very alone, dying grey fox.

Alone in the library, Regulus let his book clatter to the floor, and then quickly followed it.

/signed tenkuroi