Chapter Text
Sirius and his friends were being loud again.
They were often loud. Regulus thought they were all attention seekers, or perhaps unaware of how much noise they were making. Maybe that was giving them too much credit. It used to annoy him, but he’d learned to tune it out.
Most days, at least.
Today, it didn’t feel so easy to ignore.
There were six towers in Hogwarts castle. The Astronomy Tower (the tallest of the bunch), Ravenclaw Tower, Gryffindor Tower, the Headmaster’s Tower (a largely inaccessible and unusable stretch of corridors where Headmaster Dumbledore paced most of the night), the West Tower, and the Divination Tower.
Most nights, especially weekend nights, the majority of the Hogwarts towers would be occupied in some capacity, especially Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Tower where students of the respective houses were constantly lingering among the hallways.
However, of the bunch, the Divination Tower was almost always empty, especially in the evening. Their Divination professor wasn’t all that interested in sticking around Hogwarts after the sun set and it was rumored she didn’t even live in the castle, so the tower—classroom and all—were generally abandoned come nightfall.
Regulus appreciated that fact. He didn’t take Divination–it would never have been allowed by his parents–but he liked having an unoccupied place to gather his thoughts. He used to try the Astronomy Tower, but he’d been at Hogwarts long enough to know that on a Thursday night, some couple would have sneaked up there together. Honestly, so many of the older students were using the Astronomy tower now, they’d have to start creating a calendar just so people knew when it would be free.
Regulus hadn’t been up there in months.
It would have been nice though, on a night like tonight, when he was feeling that open clawing void in his chest and all he wanted to do was wallow in self pity. Maybe he could even waste a bit of energy toying with the idea of killing himself. That was comforting sometimes. Not that he’d ever really do it... He didn’t think so. Probably not.
He was just a bit bored. That was all. Boredom could take up a lot of space in a person.
So with the Astronomy Tower out of the running, he’d gone to the Divination Tower, lingering near one of the windows right under the Divination classroom. It wasn’t the same as leaning on the Astronomy Tower railings, but at least the window opened, so he could still feel the cold sting of the air and hear the loud yelping laughs and whoops of excitement from Sirius and his stupid, worthless friends.
He checked the time with his wand, only half an hour until midnight and then it wouldn’t be Sirius’s birthday anymore. Not that that would stop Sirius from acting like a knob. (Not that anything could stop Sirius from acting like a knob at this point. Regulus was sure that was a permanent development.)
Idly, he watched Sirius running beside one of his friends near the lake. They’d snuck out, probably to pull some kind of prank—last year it had been fireworks—and they were being far less careful than they usually were.
Sirius’s laugh carried through the wind like a bird exploiting a thermal to lift itself to higher skies. Regulus wondered if Sirius charmed his laugh to do that, it seemed like the kind of egotistical thing Sirius would do. He huffed as a squeeze of fondness pressed on his chest. He was attempting to feel derision. He didn’t want to feel endeared by his brother tonight, not after his entire birthday passed, and Sirius hadn’t even bothered to look in his direction.
He even got him a gift this year: a Montrose Magpies scarf he’d bought in secret. He hadn’t gotten the chance to give him the gift because when he’d tried to approach Sirius in the halls, James Potter had stepped in like Regulus was there to curse him and it had ended in all three of them losing house points.
Whatever.
Maybe he could burn the scarf, that would be relaxing. Maybe it would even make him feel better. It’s not like he needed it. He was a Holyhead Harpies fan himself, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone.
He watched Sirius for a moment longer before dragging his eyes to the sky. This was another reason the Astronomy Tower was preferable for his wallowing–it was very conducive to have access to various telescopes when the main sources of his woes could be tied to stars hanging above him.
Sirius wasn’t quite visible in the sky yet, he wouldn’t be until early December, but Regulus could imagine him there. His own star had just come back into view a few weeks ago, only blocked by the sun through early September, but it hung alone, isolated despite the Leo constellation poised around it.
He sighed through his nose.
“You were supposed to help me,” Regulus said to no one in particular.
He stared down his own star, his name sake. Many of his family members had shared the same name, but there was something about it that always felt distinctly his. The second brightest star in the sky, second best even in visibility.
“Sirius was never going to help me,” Regulus continued. “But you –you should have helped me.”
What did he think would happen? His star would spring to life and whisk him away from the responsibilities bearing down on his shoulders.
Please.
He knew better than to expect some savior now.
“You’re beyond saving.” That’s what Sirius had said to him not that long ago, near the beginning of the summer. His words were spat with enough venom to strike Regulus dead. If only.
See? There was that good old fashioned suicide ideation. He could always rely on it.
He gazed back down at Sirius, he appeared to be doing something to the lake water now. Regulus didn’t care what it was. It didn’t matter to him at all. He turned away and headed down the stairs, leaving the window wide open—the castle’s magic would close it in an hour or so anyway—and vowed to burn the scarf the moment he was back in the common room.