Jily | I Can't Love Him

Convivial Company

Regulus sat at his desk. He scribed the letters carefully, etching each line with intent. Voices stirred two floors below him. He placed his quill gently in the ornate stand and turned in his chair. The door of his bedroom was open, allowing the voices to waft up the stairs and into his room. A glass shattered. Regulus rose from his desk and made his way silently to the doorway.

Footsteps thundered up the staircase. Sirius flew past Regulus into the room adjacent, slamming the door behind him. Regulus shifted on his feet, unsure of what to do. After a moment he pressed out of the room and down the landing. Two short knocks. He was met with no response but opened the door nonetheless to find Sirius tearing apart his room. Sirius stood with his back to the door, he was throwing everything in arm's reach into a trunk that lay open on the bed.

Regulus spoke from the threshold, "You're not leaving." He wasn't sure whether it was a question or a statement.

Sirius's shoulders slackened. He didn't respond. He picked up a small, rectangular mirror from his bedside table and slid it into his pocket, nestling beside his wand. He clicked his trunk shut, grabbed the handle roughly and made his way out of the room. He stopped and half turned towards Regulus, avoiding his younger brother's eyes.

"You know I have to." Sirius's voice was small.

Regulus shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line.

"Then come with me," Sirius offered.

"I can't—"

"Yes. You can."

"Sirius, I'm not leaving. And neither are you."

Sirius's eyes prickled, "Goodbye, Reg."

Regulus tried to block Sirius's path, but his small frame was much weaker than his brother's who pushed past him easily. The trunk thumped rapidly down the stairs. Regulus stood, frozen, listening as the front door swung open.

"I won't have you back here," Mrs Black's cold voice menaced.

Regulus winced as the door slammed in response. His throat tightened. He hurried into his room, throwing aside the emerald drapes concealing the window and searched the street below.

Sirius trudged down the front steps into the dimly lit street. A Summer storm was rolling in, snuffing out the sun and washing Grimmauld Place with grey unhappiness. He threw out his wand arm and with an enormous bang and a flash of headlights, a violently purple triple-decker bus skidded to a stop in front of him.

A young man in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the dim street, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Mike Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."

"One ticket, please," Sirius said.

"Eleven Sickles," said Mike, dropping his professional manner. "But for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, an' for fifteen you get an 'otwater bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour of your choice."

"Just the ticket, thanks." Sirius felt around in his pockets. He pulled out a large gold coin, "Have you got change?"

Mike Shunpike took the coin and exchanged it for six Sickles as well as a small ticket. He took the trunk from Sirius's hand and heaved it into the bus**.**

There were no seats. Instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-panelled walls. Every bed on the first storey was occupied so Sirius followed Mike up a narrow wooden staircase to the second.