Prompt - Regulus is frightened of a storm.
The winds of the raging storm sweeping through London howled against the aged walls of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The thick raindrops pelted against the windowpanes, pouring relentlessly from the charcoal-grey skies above the city. It was three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon and eight-year-old Sirius Black was bored.
Sundays were always the most boring day of the week. They day usually reserved for tedious gatherings of family members for afternoon tea (an ordeal which Sirius was only spared from today by Grandfather Arcturus having developed a nasty cold and insisted that the whole thing be called off, such was the pointlessness of a family gathering without his presence, of course), followed by hours spent wiling away the day playing whatever games he could convince Regulus to play with him.
Except, Regulus was nowhere to be found.
Sirius searched high and low every room of the top floor of the house, where their bedrooms, playroom and schoolroom were located and where their freedom was restricted to without supervision.
"Reg!" Sirius called down the corridor, to the unwelcome reply of silence. "Reg, where are you?"
He half-hoped his calls might awaken from her afternoon nap their ancient old governess, the latest in the long line of interchangeable, boring old witches put in charge of the sons of the House of Black and whom Sirius was sure would be leaving them any day now, if her ever-increasing threats were to be believed. At least if she emerged from her room, grumpily complaining about the noise, she might be able to enlighten Sirius on where his brother was. But alas, the sound of her snoring continued to echo through the hallway, broken only by the continuing pelting of rain against the house punctured by a particularly loud rumble of thunder
His curiosity getting the better of him and, with a genuine worry beginning to brew inside him, Sirius began to tiptoe down the forbidden staircase that served as the barrier between their designated territory and the forbidden land that was the rest of the house. But if Regulus wasn't to be found in any nook or cranny on this floor, then he surely must be somewhere below. In any case, if he truly was vanished into thin air, he would need to venture downstairs to alert Mama and Papa to the case of their missing younger son. Mama would surely spare him a scolding for reporting such an emergency. Papa might even give him a grateful pat on the shoulder.
Sirius tiptoed along the corridor, his ears pricked up ready to follow the slightest sound that might lead him to his missing brother. The surrounding portraits tutted and shook their painted heads down at him disapprovingly but Sirius paid them no heed (except to stick out his tongue at the particularly disliked portrait of his great grandfather, Cygnus Black II).
The boy was just about to wonder if he should give up his search and instead go and alert his parents, when his ears suddenly picked up the sound of a distinct scuffling noise coming from one of the guest bedrooms, a sound almost masked by another loud crack of thunder ringing through the house eerily.
Sirius hurried towards the room as quietly as he could, dashing on his tiptoes to avoid his shoes clicking against the floorboards and giving away his trespassing to anyone in earshot. He pushed open the heavy, mahogany door, wincing slightly at the loud creaking noise it emitted.
"Reg?" Sirius whispered urgently into the room. "Are you in here?"
Silence.
Just as Sirius was about to admit defeat and leave the room, yet another thunder crack rang pierced through the silence, followed quickly by another urgent scuffling sound.
Sirius's head jerked in the direction of the noise - the ornately-carved wardrobe on the other side of the room.
He hurried over to it and threw open the doors, too delighted at the discovery of his brother to be concerned about the considerably-louder creaking noise as the wooden door swung open.
Regulus was curled up in the far corner of the wardrobe, barely visible behind the hems of the many hanging sets of dusty robes and fur cloaks crammed into the wardrobe. This was the room most frequented by their Great Aunt Cassiopeia, who insisted on keeping an entire month's worth of her famously-hideous clothes stored at Grimmauld Place to see her through her stays in London.
"Reg? What are you doing in here?" Sirius asked as he knelt down to crawl into the wardrobe, under the robes to sit opposite his brother.
It was most unlike the younger of the brothers to sneak away from their restricted area of the house, let alone to creep into an expressly-forbidden room and hide himself inside a piece of furniture. That was two rules broken in one go. And Regulus never broke the rules willingly.
And yet, here was Regulus himself, the good boy who followed the rules, breaking two of his own accord and without his mischievous elder brother's provoking. The little boy was sat with his knees hugged tight to his chest, his shoulders hunched over and his face almost hidden in his lap.
"Reg, what's wrong?" Sirius asked, worriedly. His brother seemed upset.
"You're not still sad because I broke your model Abraxan last night, are you? You know Hilda fixed it for you, it's good as new now. And I did promised not to try and make it fly again"
Regulus shook his head with a sniffle.
"No, s'not that" he mumbled.
"Well what is it then?"
With perfect timing, yet another loud rumble of thunder rolled through the house, it's deep boom seeming to almost shake the room.
Regulus flinched dramatically, his shoulders shaking before he hugged his knees tighter, seemingly trying to curl himself tight enough to disappear completely.
"You're not… scared of the storm, are you?" Sirius asked, tilting his head curiously.
His brother nodded silently, except for another sniffle.
"Really?"
Sirius was surprised.
"Don't laugh" said Regulus, his urgent voice coming out in almost a snap.
"I won't" Sirius replied, with genuine sincerity. Perhaps if he'd discovered Regulus's fear in passing conversation, he may have teased about it. But here, crouched in the bottom of a wardrobe in the midst of a violent storm, Sirius had no urge to cackle.
His urge, instead, was to crawl closer to his brother and put a comforting arm around his little brother.
And so, he did.
Regulus leaned into Sirius's side, seeming to relax, almost, until another thunder crack sent him tensing back into his shell again.
It saddened Sirius to see his brother sound scared. He might tease Regulus for being boring, timid, a stick-in-the-mud, but in the end, he was the big brother and it was his job to cheer up his younger sibling.
"Hey Reg, don't you know what thunder is?"
"Shove off, Sirius" Regulus mumbled into the elder boy's shoulder.
"No, really, don't you know what it is?"
"No…"
"I do. Hilda told me, earlier. You'd have heard it too if you hadn't sneaked off to hide in here. And if you had, you wouldn't be so scared"
Regulus's head lifted, his eyes peeking up at Sirius, narrowed with caution.
"What is it?"
"It's drunk hippogriffs falling down a staircase"
Regulus huffed out a disbelieving scoff.
"No really, it is!" Sirius insisted. "Don't you hear it in the thunder? If you listen properly you can hear them. Sloshed on firewhiskey and tumbling down the stairs, legs all in a tangle, feathers flying everywhere"
"Shove off, Sirius" Reg said again, knocking his brother lightly on the arm and turning his head away- to hide the smile creeping onto his face.
"It's true, really!" Sirius insisted again. "Wait for the next crack and listen, you'll hear it. You can even hear their drunk squawking as they fall-"
Another strike of perfect timing. Another rumble of thunder began to brew in the skies above them and Sirius felt Regulus curl tighter against him in anticipation.
"Now, listen, Reg" he said, giving his brother's shoulder a shake. "There it is, hear it? A great, drunk hippogriff, tumbling down the stairs. And then-"
As the very worst of the thunder crack rang out through the house, Sirius let out the most almighty, undignified impression of a pained hippogriff squawk. Surely the most unbecoming of noises to be heard in these hallowed halls of Grimmauld Place.
But beside him, his little brother burst out laughing, his tightly-curled defensive position giving way as he collapsed in a fit of giggles at his brother's impression.
"It's- it's not really a drunk hippogriff though" Regulus stammered out through his laughter as the thunder subsided.
"It is so!" Sirius protested. "Listen, it's coming again!"
Once again, as the rumbling of the thunder reached it's peak, Sirius let out another almighty squawk and Regulus all but collapsed under the weight of his laughter.
"See? What did I tell you? Drunk hippogriffs. That's all it is. What else could make such an awful noise?"
"You when that bowtruckle bit you on the nose last summer"
Sirius stuck his nose in the air and folded his arms sulkily.
"If you're just going to pick on me then I'll just go away"
He shuffled about as if he made to leave the wardrobe, but Regulus tugged at his robe sleeve, pulling him back.
"No, please. Don't go. I'm sorry"
Sirius hadn't really meant to go, but it felt good to hear his brother's longing for him to stay, nonetheless.
"Alright. We'll stay here til the end of the storm but then that's it. I don't want to come out stinking like Aunt Cass's scruffy old kneazles"
The two boys sat, huddled together at the back of the wardrobe, in silence for several minutes.
"Sirius?" Regulus piped up, sounding decided more relaxed than he had done when his big brother had first found him.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks"
Sirius squeezed the arm he had draped around his little brother's shoulders, holding him tight.
"What are brothers for?"