stephanometra

Title: Pictures
Rating: The only questionable material is language. PG by internet standards?
Warnings: There is absolutely no Sirius/Regulus subtext in this story. You have been warned.
Wordcount: 1300ish
Author’s Note: Written for my darling

regulusa on the occasion of her belated birthday. Untouched by any beta's eyes or keyboard, so all mistakes are my own. Sorry the title sucks. The title always sucks, doesn't it?

-

It's past midnight on Christmas night, and Sirius' light is on.

Regulus stands in the hallway outside his brother's room, one hand on the doorjamb and the other extending irresolutely towards the door, knuckles poised to knock. He hesitates, pulling his fist back and then raising it again, and just as he decides to go ahead and knock after all, the door swings open.

"Look, Regulus, either knock or don't, but don't just stand there all night like a bloody idiot," Sirius says, lounging in the doorframe and looking at Regulus in that way of his that makes Regulus feel two feet tall.

He scowls. "Shut up," he says, pushing his way past Sirius into the room and flopping down on the four-poster in the centre of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Opening a present. Go away."

Blinking with interest, Regulus inquisitively tilts his head. "You hid it up here? Why, who's it from?"

Sirius glares at him. "It's from Andromeda, alright? Now get out."

He sucks in a breath. "Sirius, you shouldn't."

"Don't you even think of telling Mother."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "Only if I get to see what it is."

Sirius considers this for a moment. "Fine," he declares, "but you've got to swear."

He grins. "Slytherin's honour."

"Fuck off," he says good-naturedly, cuffing Regulus upside the head as he clambers onto the bed. Dangling halfway off the bed, Sirius reaches under it and retrieves a respectably-sized box, wrapped in smart green and white paper but clearly a little worse for the wear. "Her owl woke me up at some ungodly hour this morning to deliver it." He tears into the bright wrapping and opens the package.

"What is it?" Regulus reaches across his brother and into the box. Sirius slaps his hand away.

Carefully, Sirius lifts a stack of photographs from where they're nestled among a couple bags of chocolate Galleons. "They're pictures, arse, what do they look like?"

"Why the hell would she send you pictures?"

"Because I asked for them, obviously. Honestly, Regulus, use your damn brain." Entranced, he watches as a dark-haired little girl runs in circles around a tall, pretty woman in light-grey robes. "Look!" The girl trips and somersaults forward towards the camera, and the entire image tumbles dizzily in circles until the person with the camera rights it again, focused once more on the little girl, whose hair has mysteriously turned a shockingly bright blue.

"Who is that?" Regulus peers more closely at the picture.

"It's Andromeda's baby, not that you give a shite. She turns three in a month or so." He moves the picture to the bottom of the stack, revealing a shot of Andromeda, the little girl, and a grinning brown-haired man in blue robes.

He gapes. "But Andromeda married a Muggle!" He drops his voice on the last word, almost swallowing it. "How'd she end up with a Metamorph sprog?"

Sirius gives him an irritated look. "He's Muggleborn, not a Muggle. His name is Ted. And there's no law says a half-blood can't be a Metamorphmagus, y'know." Another picture, this one of the little girl on the man's lap. "I might go visit them at Easter hols. Maybe."

"You're not going to stay at Hogwarts and revise for O.W.L.s?"

"As far as Mother knows, that's exactly what I'm going to do." He snorts. "When do I ever revise for anything, Reg?"

Regulus looks at Sirius sideways for a moment, and then reaches into the box and grabs a chocolate. "You are going to be in so much trouble when she finds out." He stuffs the sweet into his mouth, savouring the bitter tang of the dark chocolate.

"Yeah? Well, she's not going to find out, unless some arsehole tells her."

"Spare me," Regulus says around a mouthful of chocolate, before swallowing noisily. "She'd be almost as hacked off at me for telling her as she'd be at you for doing it."

"Walburga Black: raising shooting the messenger to a high art since 1925."

They both snicker.

Sirius eats some of his chocolate and looks at a few more of the pictures. "I wish Bella'd got blasted instead, y'know?"

"Like Bella would ever even notice a Mudblood, much less marry one."

"Yeah, I guess."

Regulus balls up the gold foil from his chocolate and chucks it towards the window. It bounces back towards the bed, landing in the middle of the floor.

"Hey!" Sirius yelps. "Pick that up, git!"

"Make me!"

"Oh, now you'll get it." Sirius shoves Regulus, who shoves back, and the impromptu wrestling match that follows ends with photographs and chocolates all over the place and Regulus falling off the bed, landing flat on his arse with a loud thud.

"You bloody wanker!" Regulus splutters, scrambling back up onto the bed and getting Sirius in a chokehold. Sirius flails about for a moment and then abruptly stops struggling. "Yeah, that's what I thought, you – ow! What the fuck, Sirius, nails? How much of a bloody girl can you possibly be?"

Sirius digs his fingernails deeper into Regulus' arm until he lets go. "Shut up, just shut up!" he hisses. He frantically begins to gather up all the detritus from Andromeda's present, shoving it back into the box. "Help me, yeah?"

Furrowing his brow, Regulus picks up a couple of pictures off the bed and hands them over. "What – oh," he says, finally hearing the footsteps coming up the stairs. "Shite." He gathers up more of the stuff strewn over the quilt, and between the two of them manage to get the whole lot packed up again, and the box pushed under the bed and out of sight, just before Sirius' door swings open.

"What's going on in here?" their mother asks in a harsh tone, glowering at each of them in turn. They both scramble to their feet and straighten their pajamas, looking at the floor.

"Nothing –" Regulus starts.

"I fell off the bed, Mother," Sirius says, obviously trying and just as obviously failing to sound contrite. Fortunately, that's the way he normally sounds when he does something he wasn't supposed to do.

She harrumphs and strides imperiously into the room, heavy brocade dressing gown sweeping the floor. Regulus holds his breath as she goes to the far side of the bed, afraid she'll see the wrapping paper that isn't quite out of sight, but all she finds is the scrap of foil, crumpled into a tiny gold ball. "What is this?" she demands, levitating it to hover in front of her face so she can glare disapprovingly at the tiny bit of trash.

"It's mine, Mother, I'm sorry," Regulus says, getting up and plucking it from the air en route to the bin in the corner.

"What have I told you about having sweets upstairs, you wretched child?"

"I shan't do it again, Mother."

"Too right you shan't. Sirius, decent wizards do not wake their households roughhousing at half-one. You are more than old enough to know better."

"Yes, Mother."

"I expect both of you to be in bed immediately." And just like that, she leaves the room in a whirl of disdain and black silk.

Regulus stares after her. "Well, that went better than expected."

"Yeah, I guess." Sirius falls backwards onto the mattress, extending his arms to either side. He encounters a forgotten chocolate Galleon that is perilously close to melting on the rumpled duvet. "Missed one, looks like." He tosses it at Regulus' head.

He catches it. "Best go to bed, then."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Sirius?"

"What?"

"You going to write to her tomorrow?"

Sirius props himself up on his elbows. "Probably. Why?"

"Tell her – tell her I said her little girl's cute, yeah?"

"Nymphadora, you mean?"

Regulus pulls a face. "That's her name? Good gods."

"Bloody terrible, innit?"

"A crime against good taste." He crosses the room and hesitates a moment at the door. "Night, then."

"Night, Regulus."

-

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