Eleanor Rigby
A freshly filled grave.
Dirt piled high over the damp grass.
A newly marked gravestone.
Ornate letters engraved into dark marble.
Regulus Arcturus Black 1961-1979.
“Maybe,” Sirius choked; the words swallowed by watery tears. “Maybe he’s-.” Sirius would’ve done anything in that moment to have his little brother in his arms again. He’d taken Reggie for granted – he’d ignored him at school and isolated himself at home, forcing Regulus to deal with their parents alone. But after so many years suffering the crucio curse by himself, Sirius had enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. The floo network his parents thought he didn’t know about in their private study came in handy when Sirius thought he’d bleed out on the floor of his mother’s office. He threw the powder into the back of the hearth and yelled as the electric green flames engulfed him into a spiral. That was years ago. He’d left Regulus to rot in their family home. And now he stood in front of Regulus’ fresh grave while his family hosted post-funeral dinner and drinks.
The dark clouds opened up and let free cold rain that splattered over the umbrellas the marauders held. Remus and Sirius shared one while James and Peter shared the other. A crack of lightning made Sirius flinch into Remus, who wrapped an arm around the slim waist of his partner. Lean muscles constricted under Remus’ hands. He curled his hand into a fist, bunching Sirius’ sweater in his fingers. Remus leaned over and kissed Sirius’ on the shoulder, who turned his head slightly in an attempt to hide from his brother’s grave.
“Siri,” Remus murmured. “It’s not healthy to-,”
“Andromeda said,” Sirius snapped, his face wrenching away from Remus to look at the large headstone again. Thick tears clouded his vision and rolled down his cheeks. The rain drowned out the sounds of his sobs. “Andy said it was closed at the funeral.” Hope blossomed in his chest. It was useless, sure, but it burned with an intensity Sirius couldn’t help but cradle. Any chance that his brother was alive was one he wasn’t willing to waste. The world around him muffled as he focused on the fresh dirt, the head stone, his brother’s name etched on marble as if he were dead.
A hand touched Sirius’ shoulder. He flinched, the hairs on his neck bristling at the feeling. When he turned he saw James and Peter wearing similar expressions to Remus. Sympathy. Sirius didn’t need sympathy. He needed confidence. He needed them to agree that Regulus was alive.
“He’s gone, Pads,” Peter said, his tone definite. Peter rarely spoke more than what was necessary and normally Sirius hated the shortest Marauder’s quiet nature but now he just wanted him to shut up. Peter didn’t know what he was talking about. He hadn’t attended the funeral. He didn’t see a body. According to Andromeda, nobody saw a body at the funeral.
“The casket was closed,” Sirius repeated through gritted teeth. “The casket was closed and… and nobody saw his body before-,”
“Sirius,” James spoke next. The invisibility cloak draped over his arm dropped to the ground as he rushed forward. His arms went around Sirius’ neck to pull him flush against his chest. “He’s gone,” James whispered. “He’s gone Pads.” Sirius bristled and yanked himself free from James’ grip. Lightning struck in the distance, light flashing across the sky as the rain strengthened into a painfully cold downpour.
“He can’t be!” Sirius’ voice spread across the cemetery. It echoed like the thunderous howls in the clouds. “I promised him! I promised I’d get him out!” His yells gave into sobs, his knees buckling. Sirius fell to the ground, his knees dug into the mud. Sirius sobbed; fingers curled into the wet dirt. He grabbed at the muddy mound to pull away chunks at a time. His fingernails stained black and his arms wet with mud and rain. Sirius dug furiously, his tears mixing with the falling rain.
“Siri,” Remus knelt and grabbed Sirius’ hands to stop him but he shrugged him off and continued to dig at the mud. “Siri,” he repeated but Sirius struggled in his boyfriend’s hold. “Baby you’ve gotta stop.” Remus wrenched him away and collapsed on his backside with Sirius struggling on his lap. Sirius sobbed. His hands dug into the thighs holding him in place but Remus held firm with his arms tight around his partner’s middle.
“I have to prove he’s not in there,” Sirius cried, his tears mixing with the heavy rainfall. “If he’s not in there then he’s alive. He has to be!” The rain drenched the boy, their shared umbrella forgotten on the ground nearby. Remus shook out his floppy curls and held Sirius tighter. He rested his chin on Sirius’ shoulder and murmured in his ear, the words too soft under the sound of the rain to be heard by anyone else.
Sirius froze, the tears falling heavily as he stared at his little brother’s headstone. When he felt Remus’ grip loosen when the other boy thought he had calmed, he wrenched his arms free from Remus and he forward. A grunt sounded behind him as Remus was shoved back. Sirius’ palms met thick mud. His body bent over the end of the mound. A hand rested on Sirius’ shoulder, fingers squeezing as Sirius sobbed onto the sopping dirt. His body convulsed, violent sobs wracking his hunched-over form. The other three marauders watched on. Their eyes glistened with tears but in the violent storm those tears were nothing more than the rain that flooded the graveyard.