ON HOLD - Caramel [G.W.]

eleven.

It'd only been four days of Christmas holidays and Orion was already losing his mind from boredom. There was only so much one could entertain themselves with at Grimmauld Place. So, to cope, Orion had started searching the things left in the spare bedrooms. There wasn't much in Sirius' old room because Walburga and Orion Black had thrown out most of it after he ran away. He found a few muggle cassettes, mostly Queen and Bowie, and photographs, all tucked away in a small hole in the baseboard. Mostly it was dust, and what looked like posters on the walls. Except for the fact that they were painted over or scrabbled at to get the photo off. Probably a permanent sticking charm like the ungodly portrait of Wallburga in the hallway. The photos were mostly of the Marauders and he tucked one away of just James and Lily to give to Harry. The boy was still being a bit weird, but Orion hoped that the photo could slightly lessen the tension.

"Insolent little pest." Wallburga's portrait screeched at him as he cross the hall to the other bedroom. He just flipped off the tattered old thing and made a point to slam the door behind him.

Orion sighed as he looked around. Regulus' room was left exactly as it had been the day he died. He was the favoured Black son, so there had been no disowning and no throwing his things away. He'd met Regulus once when he was just about 1, so he really barely remembered it. He just remembered flashes of a happy face with sad and worried eyes. Orion really knew about it through Remus, who said the 18 year old had spent hours playing with him on the carpet of the sitting room in Remus' flat. Regulus had come round looking for Sirius, said he needed his brother's help.

"I couldn't just let him leave.. He looked bad, haunted almost. Told him to wait, fixed him some tea." Orion remembered Remus saying.

There was a weird air in the room, not quite off but things just felt strange. Orion jumped as he pushed a box aside. One of the house elves, Kreacher was perched in the corner next to Regulus' desk, as if waiting for instructions. It was sad really.

"Oh, I didn't know you were in here." he laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Could you fetch me some tea a couple biscuits please?" he gave the house elf a small smile.

"Yes, master." the house elf croaked out and was gone in a slight crack and a of apparation.

Orion sipped his tea and munched at his biscuits as he searched the room. It felt a bit weird looking through Regulus' things, like he'd come in any moment. The lack of personal touch in the room made him sad, it was practically uniform. Dresser full of  boring clothes, all neatly folded and organized by colour. Dress robes hung in the closet along with a couple old Slytherin uniforms. It was clear the house elves still cleaned the room, the furniture was spotless and the clothing and curtains showed no signs of moths.

Finally, Orion got to the large ornate desk tucked in the corner. He was highly disappointed to find nothing but stationary in the drawers. He smiled a bit as he picked up a few pencils, turning them over in his hands. They were drawing pencils, though, no sketch book in sight. The boy frowned as he set down the pencils, his head tilting at the strange sound they made in the drawer. Picking a pencil back up, he lightly tapped it against the bottom of the drawer. It was hollow. He quickly emptied the drawer and ran his fingers around the edges until he found a slight dip in the wood. Smirking triumphantly, he gently pried the bottom of the drawer out to reveal a compartment. Inside lay a small, leather bound notebook, the initials R.A.B. embossed across the front and a collection of quills. He gently tucked the small book into his jacket pocket, taking the set of self inking quills as well.

-

Orion sighed softly as he looked at the large woven tapestry affixed to the wall. Across the top and bottom it read; EN STIRPS NOBILIS ET GENS ANTIQUISSIMA BLACK. Or, BEHOLD THE NOBLE LINEAGE AND OLDEST CLAN BLACK. He let his hand linger on the scorched place where Sirius used to be before he ran his hand across to his own name, neatly branched out from Evan Rosier's. It was times like these when he was grateful for the Rosier name, for it meant he was related to the Black family by means of great-uncle Cygnus.