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Ruguls sat on the cold desilt moonlit floor, staring blankly out the multi-colored arch window. Soft gusts of snow kissed the window panes, a halo attempt to reach Regulus. Regulus held a trembling hand to his soaked red button up shirt, the other hand holding him steady up right. He could faintly hear footsteps from other students, perfects he guessed, walking outside his hidden room, and the quiet sound of a door creaking somewhere near him. He paid no mind to the uncared for noises and stayed unblinking, paying his attention only to the white snow.
His stomach ached for help, and his hand grew tired from pressing harshly down on his torn wound, but he stayed frozen. It didn’t matter anymore. It was far too late to make any attempt at fixing the slash that now unattractively decorated his chest. He was tried, too tried to fix anything. With the wind growing colder and older, it slowed with the tiny bits of flying snow, making the glass colder but clearer. He could see the forbidden forest in all its terrifying glory, he could see the trail to Hagrides hut and people walking along the forest line. He blinked up, staring at his second home, maybe his only home, the sky.
The stars flaunting as brightly as ever, unchanged by the night's terror. He searched them, ranking over one star to another. He passed his mothers, to his fathers, to his cousins, to his own, and finally his brothers. His brother out shun all and every star that dared to burn near him, outshining Regulus himself once more in his dying moments. He looked to the moon and wished it was the sun, but it was the dead of night, the sun won’t be seen, not by Regulus anyways. His heart tumbled at the loss, but felt content knowing he wouldn’t have to face it. To face him.
A door creaked near him once more, and the sound of students passing stopped. It was silent now, just like Regulus is and will be forever. Unknowingly, he had started to move. His blood covered hand inched away from his chest till it reached his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper that was ripped around the edges. Without looking, he opened the folded paper, careful not to touch the inside of it, and held it on his lap. Finally, he turned away from the stars and looked at the small paper in his hand. ‘12pm, Thursday, classroom five. See you there. J.P’ A chuckle slipped from his wet blooded lips, not because there was a joke written, but because of the sheer idiocracy of himself. Regrets, too many to count, flooded into his once empty head. All small and pointless but the last carried more weight than any other. I forgot to write him back.
A shudder of a breath slipped from his lips, titling his head back to the stars he crunched the note to his heart. Feeling less and less air entering his lungs he looked to Sirius. His brother, his first friend, his protector, and his enemy. Closing his eyes he let out a soft sigh. He heard a door creak, louder than before, and footsteps. His head fell light and his limbs dropped limp, relaxed. He thought he could hear what sounded like a voice, but it could’ve been the wind. He felt his hand loosen around his note, and his breath stopped.
Regulus Black died in James Potter's arms.