The Day the Music Died | Jegulus, Wolfstar

The Wing-less Snitch

Trying to keep up with you,
And I don't know if I can do it.
Oh no I've said too much,
I haven't said enough.
I thought that I heard you laughing.
I thought that I heard you sing.
I think I thought I saw you try.

Regulus opened his eyes, they were sticky, probably from crying, he thought. He was warm, someone was hugging him, James. His tan, thick hands were placed in his back and his hair, his body was wrapped around Regulus', and the raven-haired boy's face was in his neck, his coconut smelling neck.

Regulus instantly realized he was sitting on top of him, and with some sort of jump, he managed to get off the Gryffindor's boy's lap without interrupting the last's dream.

He wouldn't mention that to anyone.

The lack of acknowledgment he was experiencing made him feel like he was inside a dream, he didn't even know what hour it was. He adjusted his jumper and walked to the cosily decorated kitchen, dishes were washing on their own, the house appeared to be empty, so he grabbed a tangerine from the fruit basket —although it made him severely uncomfortable to steal food, he presumed a faint was about to occur, and he wasn't in the mood to be cared for again— he found his way to the front door. It was locked.

He took his wand out and whispered.

"Alohomora"

The door opened with a click the second he touched the lock with the tip of his wand. Sure, magic outside Hogwarts was forbidden for underage wizards, but what difference would it do? He was surprised to've remained alive for so long, so he didn't really expect to make it back to Hogwarts. As the door turned, a beautiful landscape unfolded between his eyes, it was a golden-coloured cornfield, the sky was a dull grey, but some sunlight could be appreciated between the clouds, clodding the firmament. This was better than the old, contaminated London view.

Regulus slowly paced to a sunny spot and sat crossed-leg between the overgrown grass, he started peeling the tangerine while his head was busy trying to process his recent memories. What did all of this mean? Would he have to show up when the Dark Lord wished his presence? Could he control him? No questions would be answered he reckoned, so he stopped trying to find the sense to it all, things just happened, for a reason, often.

He tried to switch to questions he might've an answer to. How had he grown comfortable with the fact that he was going to die? How did he find the cowardice and the lazy nonchalance to accept his life was doomed to an early finish? Still nothing, so Regulus guessed. Maybe it was because he never fully enjoyed it in the first place, so he didn't really have anything worth living for. He was thankful, nonetheless, that made it easier.

He grabbed a slice of the tangerine and tossed it into him mouth, when he bit it, the delicious fresh juice slid down his throat smoothly, he didn't ingest anything in who knows how long, and even though the sourness of the fruit made his throat ache, he enjoyed every taste of it. Suddenly, he heard nervous steps coming towards him, he turned his head, just to see a very confused-looking James walking out of the door, still rubbing his eyes.

  "Over here," he mumbled softly, his throat still sore.

James adjusted his specs and almost ran towards him.

"Reg! You scared the crap out of me! Thought you ran away."

Regulus chuckled grimly, although he wasn't surprised, James obviously thought he was a coward, running away from his own house to a stranger's... but then again, James wasn't really a stranger, was he? He wasn't in the mood to fight, anyways.

"I just wanted some fresh air, didn't want to wake The Sleeping Beauty."

The curly-haired boy frowned while he tilted his head, resembling a dog.