It was awful out; it was September.
Sirius couldn’t stop smiling.
His brother was finally going to be at Hogwarts. It was all he could talk about the entire train ride. None of his friends were really listening, all drunk on the sickeningly sweet air, but he didn’t mind. He was used to it after the summer. He grinned while Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, he wasn’t angry.
He knew his baby brother would be happiest there.
James was worried when it happened, he looked over at Sirius expecting to see disappointment. He was utterly confused to find a look on the boy’s face that he’d only ever seen on his parents when they dropped him off at the station.
Pride mixed with a twinge of grief.
Sirius loved Regulus, when had he gotten so old?
Sirius was 5, Regulus was 3, their parents were mad at the younger boy, the boy asked silly questions with his newfound voice. Regulus cried and Sirius hugged him. He told him stories of the places they'd go. Gumdrop castles and chocolate villages.
Sirius wasn’t 5 anymore.
He was 13, and Regulus didn’t talk to him.
Hadn’t since he was sorted into Gryffindor.
Sirius didn’t mind. He loved his brother.
Besides, Sirius wasn’t 5 anymore. He understood that these things were complicated.
Sirius wasn’t 5 anymore.
He wasn’t even 13.
He was 20, sitting in front of a newspaper.
Regulus wasn’t 3 anymore.
He wasn’t 11.
He wasn’t even 18.
He was dead.