Grimmauld place had become a tomb. The air inside was stale and still, and if Regulus took a deep breath and thought concentrated, he could convince himself that the house smelled of death. It was silent and dull. Dinners were quiet, with only the occasional request for another helping of venison and the clink of silverware. Mrs. Black didn't throw any dinner parties, and Mr. Black didn't conduct any meetings in the sitting room. Regulus himself stayed indoors for the most part, only venturing into the outside world for his schoolbooks and new robes. He and his parents had acknowledged his elevation to prefect status with sharp nods of approval and chocolate mousse for dinner. They had expected nothing less, after all.
Every once in awhile Regulus heard his mother yelling at Kreacher, the wretched House Elf, but those times were few and far between. Grimmauld Place was silent, and it didn't take long for Regulus to come to the conclusion that Sirius had taken noise and the arguments and the life from the house when he'd run away.
Regulus hated him for it.
In all reality, Regulus didn't need another reason to hate his brother. The hatred was already there, driven by jealousy, envy, sorrow and longing. It had been his intention to forget about Sirius, to forget he even had a brother, but just because Sirius had stolen away the life from Grimmauld Place didn't mean there weren't still reminders of his presence.
There, for example, was the table Sirius had fallen against. Probably thought Regulus had pushed him there on purpose, but that had been an accident. He could remember the terrible amount of blood though, and he could see so very clearly Sirius' pale face. Worst was Sirius' room.
Sirius' room. Mrs. Black hadn't done a thing with it, which surprised Regulus. He'd expected her to banish all of her ex-son's things to the attic, where she might systematically destroy them all. He had at least thought that his father would clear out the room, possibly opening up space for another study. But the room was just as Sirius had left it. An absolute mess, of course, with spare clothes thrown all about and books and games and Zonko products mixed throughout. Regulus couldn't walk past it without his stomach twisting into painful knots.
In just a few hours, however, he would be gone. Back at Hogwarts to begin his fifth year, and Regulus was extraordinarily thankful for his impending return to school, where there would be noise and laughter and talking and shouting and life. Sirius would be there as well, but Regulus was doing his best not to think about that. Hogwarts was a big place - he'd probably never even see his brother. Ex-brother.
But Regulus needed to do something. There was that anger, a constant boiling beneath his skin, and he needed to do something. He even had an idea of what that something might be. He'd entertained the notion all summer, but hadn't acted upon it for fear of his parents' wrath.
Then again, he would be gone in just a few hours, and then the most he would suffer was a Howler, if that.
Which brought him to the doorway of Sirius' room. Sirius' old room, anyway, since it wasn't his room any more.
(I hereby reserve this space for a summer thread, which I am unable to post at the moment. *cough*)
TBC



