7. Painful Memories

Vienna darted out of the Portrait Hole before dawn had managed to creep into their dormitory. She knew Lily would eventually figure out what had happened the night before, and she didn't want to be their when she did.

She supposed she'd go to the hospital wing. Her side was really starting to bother her. She wondered idly if one of her ribs was cracked.

Madame Pomfry merely rolled her eyes when she came in. "Not you again!" she just gave the nurse a small smile.

"In my day, girls were careful, not always falling off their brooms or getting into fights!" Vienna resisted adding a snarky comment and kept her mouth shut, knowing it would get her out of there faster.

As it turned out, it was only bruised and Madame Pomfry took care of it in less than five minutes. When she was cleared to go she made her way down to the Great Hall, thinking longingly of a cup of hot tea. Her head was aching, despite Remus's spells.

Sirius's questions echoed in her head along with his tortured expression from the night before.

What makes him any different?

In truth, she knew, he wasn't any different. He wasn't Reggie. He wasn't Reggie. She'd told herself this over and over, but it didn't seem to make any difference. She just kept seeing his face over and over, blood running down his cheeks-

"Stop it!" she said, only realizing afterwards that she'd spoken out loud. It didn't matter though, the images kept coming. Of walking home from Bea's house, the door already open to her own little house, of her mother and father who could have been sleeping if not for the awkward angles at which they had fallen, and of Reggie, who looked as if he'd been torn apart by an animal. They'd wanted him to suffer for what he was, a freak by their standards.

When the Aurors got there, she'd still been screaming.

The papers hadn't reported his death, had barely reported on her parents. The story had slowly leaked out through word of mouth and by the time it had become mainstream knowledge no one remembered Reggie, no one knew or cared about his existence, except her.

He'd been fourteen years old.

She still had a picture of him that she carried around in the heavy gold locket around her neck. In the picture he was smiling and waving at the camera, clutching the chubby hand of her at six years old, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that matched his own, though his hair was jet black.

He was eleven, the year he should have started at Hogwarts.

He would have been at Hogwarts when they came.

It wasn't fair that he'd been a Squib. He'd always been astounded by magic, even as he got older and was used to it. He'd always encouraged her, never been angry that she was a Witch. That she'd been normal. That while he struggled with Algebra, she'd change the color of his sums, giggling madly.

Regulus reminded her a bit of him. She'd never been particularly fond of him, in fact she hated him just on principle for being a Slytherin, but there was something, something more than just the black hair and lanky physique. She thought it was perhaps the way in which he treated the younger students, at least from his house. She'd seen him many a time in the library, tutoring the younger students as they struggled in Transfiguration or Potions, sitting in endless patience until they got it…

But he wasn't Reggie!

She needed to get a serious grip. The way Sirius had looked at her after he'd hit her, that tortured, wild look, all because of her stupid delusions.

But she couldn't help herself. He'd looked so much like Reggie had when she'd found him, blood covering his face-"

"Stop it!" she said to herself once more, angrily covering her eyes with her hands, as if she could blot out the images filling her mind, the ones she'd become so good at repressing.

"Stop what?" a familiar voice said. She dropped her hands from her face to see Sirius walking towards her, looking concerned.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "I just have that new Weird Sisters song stuck in my head."

"Oh yeah, I love that one!" he said enthusiastically. "So what are you doing up here so early anyways?"

"I just needed a walk," she said, trying for bright but failing miserably. Sirius's face clouded over at her tone.

"Look, about last night-"

"Sirius, it has nothing to do with last night," she lied. It did, but not because of the reasons he was surely thinking.

"No, Vi, I was completely out of line! I never would hit you!"
"I know that, it was my fault. I was just being stupid. Can we just forget about it?" she said, nervously clutching at the locket she wore at her throat.

"Vi, stop it, I know when your upset. Just stop lying to me! Just tell me what's going on! You've been acting really weird and I just want to know what's going on so I can help-"

"You can't help," she said dully.

"I knew you were mad at me for hitting you, and you should be! Just tell me how I can make this right!"

"It's not about that!" she nearly shouted. "For crying out loud, I've told you, I'm not angry with you. It's got nothing to do with you!"

"Then what does it have to do with?" he asked in a soothing voice. "Just tell me." She turned away, twirling the locket faster. It popped open, a tiny piece of paper tumbling out. She didn't notice.

"Sirius, I just need a little space right now, just let me think," she said before practically sprinting off. Sirius stared after her, looking confused and hurt. He started after her when something caught his eye. It was the little piece of paper that had fallen from Vienna's locket. He picked it up and turned it over.

It showed a little girl, unmistakably Vi with an older boy who looked to be around eleven or twelve. At first glance he thought he was looking at his own little brother, but soon realized his mistake. The boy had blue eyes instead of grey and absolutely lacked the arrogance in which Regulus carried himself with.

He turned it over again, looking at the back once more. Someone had written on the back in unfamiliar loopy writing.

Reginald and Vienna

1966

Sirius stared again at the picture before darting off in the direction Vi had set off in.