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Sirius wasn't really sad to see both his parents pass, but there was something somber about the process of cleaning the house out all the same. Sirius and Regulus both had time off work as a 'grief period' or summat, and while Reg was the only two of them doing anything like grieving, it was nice to have all the same because nobody asked any questions other than 'how are you holding up?'.
Honestly without Kreacher to consider, Sirius would have torched the place. Gotten out the handful of not cursed family heirlooms, emptied the library, and burned the rest. As it was, they were having to dump everything by hand because that was what he really wanted out of life today.
He was prying the row of house elf heads off the wall one disgusting plaque at a time when Regulus poked his head into the hallway. "Hey, come look at this."
"You know Reg, you don't need my permission to throw rubbish out."
He rolled his eyes. "Do you want to get away from the disembodied heads or not?"
"I dunno Reg I'm really starting to feel the family pride here, not sure I can tear myself away."
"Just get your fat arse over here."
Sirius squawked indignantly, but he did get off the stool to join Regulus. "I will have you know that my arse is magnificent."
"Yeah, yeah I'm sure Potter loves it. Whatever, I don't want to hear about it." He led Sirius to one of the many rooms their parents had stored things in. There was the bedroom, the kitchen and dining room, and then seven rooms of shit piled up.
In this one, it was obvious they were going through everything because there was a noticeable hole in the clutter, a path really, going from the doorway to one of the walls. Regulus stepped gingerly through it all, and Sirius followed him, wondering what had been so important that Reg felt the need to stop what they were doing. "Look," he said, patting a piece of polished black wood.
For a moment, Sirius wanted to ask him what the hell he was on about, but then he actually looked. It was part of something bigger, and not yet another table that their parents had decided to stack useless items on. "The piano," he said quietly. He cleared his throat. "I thought they threw it out when I left."
"I thought they did too. Walburga certainly said she was, but..." Regulus shrugged, "I guess she never got around to it."
Sirius moved to stand next to him and reached a hand out to touch it, running it along the smooth surface that covered the keys. "Did you stop playing?"
"I- er, stopped when I was twelve, Sirius." They both stood in silence at the awkward reminder of their not so amiable past. "I know how much you used to love playing though. You should take it. You and Potter have got that big house now, you've certainly the room for it."
Sirius dropped his hand back to his side, shaking his head. "I haven't played in years, there's no point. You can just toss it in the bin with everything else." With that, he turned on his heel and left.
Regulus stared after him sadly. He wasn't going to throw it away; it was obvious that Sirius wanted it. He was going to clear out the rest of the room and hope that Sirius was honest with himself by the time they were done.
Sirius never said anything, but a few days later Reg walked into that room to find it missing. He knew that Sirius wouldn't have thrown it out, so he smiled. He wondered if Sirius had said anything to that husband of his about it yet. Probably not.
Sirius was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and staring at the piano like it wasn't right there within his reach. James came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "What's with the piano, Si?"
"Found it in Grimmauld."
"Okay," James said slowly. "And why is it here?"
"Does it bother you?"
"That doesn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine."
"Are we being five year olds now?"
Sirius sighed. "No." He leaned back against his chest. "I used to play. Good pureblooded activity to take up my childhood, you know?"
"Can't say I do." There were very few traditional pureblooded activities that his parents wanted him to do. Playing piano was one of those things they didn't care about teaching him, and one to the extent that he didn't even know it existed as a ‘good pureblood activity’. "Did you like playing it?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
"'Okay'?" Sirius repeated. "You're okay with this?"
"It's just a piano, Si. We weren't doing anything with this room anyways. You gonna play it sometime?"
He shrugged, but his shoulders were tight and anyways James could always tell when he was lying even if he wasn't saying anything.
"I'd like it if you did," James mused. "It would be nice. Would you play something for me if I asked?"
"I haven't played in years," he said, but it was a weak protest.
"You can practice," James said, swaying them back and forth like they were slow dancing.
"I hate you."
"About as much as you hate Reg?"
Sirius chuckled. "Exactly as much as I hate Reg."