Smile When You Dive In

Epilogue

Though sixteen years had passed, the narrow bed was still made, the desk still cluttered with various trinkets. Cluttered wasn't the right word, though. Sirius mentally amended that. The desk was still decorated with various trinkets, perfectly arranged as if ready for use. A letter opener carrying the Black family crest and a small pot of ink, long since dried out. An old school book, the sight of which made something twist painfully inside Sirius. When he inhaled, he could swear it still smelled like him. He had expected there to be a heavy film of dust over the room as there had been the rest of the wretched house after more than a decade's neglect, but he had been wrong in that regard. It was pristine, well maintained. The room looked no different than it had the last time he had been in it, all those years ago. Kreacher paid little attention to the upkeep of Grimmauld Place with no 'worthy' master to impress, but Regulus' bedroom seemed to be an exception to that.

Part of Sirius expected Kreacher to appear out of thin air the moment he set foot in Regulus' room, screaming and demanding that he leave. He let out a shaky breath and stepped forward, testing. Ready to jump back and slam the door shut on the elf. The floorboards gave beneath his feet, reminding him of the age of the house once more, though nothing else materialised, the bedroom as untouched by age as his frail body was. It was clearer to see how much time had passed in the other rooms, where nature had taken its course and sunlight had faded wallpaper and paintings. But Kreacher had always liked Regulus the best. Sirius had never been frightened of the elf as a child, and knew that he shouldn't be now. After Azkaban, he had seen horrors far worse than the repugnant little elf that he'd unwillingly inherited. He had tortured himself with regrets for what felt like a lifetime, mulling over every possible decision he could have made to change things. To save the people that he cared about. Yet he still found himself tuning out of Kreacher's rants, avoiding being in the room with him when Harry was there out of fear of what he might say to paint him in a light that the boy would not like. It was bad enough being a stranger to him, having missed so much of his life, he didn't need that additional hinderance.

Sirius could have stopped Regulus from pursuing his hopeless mission, he knew that. He could have said more, done more. It wouldn't have even taken much to stop his little brother when he really thought about it. The boy was clearly afraid the last time they spoke, and he had always looked up to Sirius when they were younger. He had let Regulus down. He had ignored the obvious signs because he was afraid. But it was one thing for Sirius to know that he was in part responsible for the death of his brother, and another entirely to hear it from somebody else's mouth even if that somebody was, he was sure of it, only still living to spite him. Dumbledore wanted him to move on, to leave the regrets of the past where they were, and he tried. It was easier not to think about it when he avoided Regulus' bedroom, pretended he'd never existed. That was the reason he hadn't so much as opened the door since he had been forced back into his childhood Hell by his former headmaster. But now Dumbledore wanted more rooms available, and Regulus' was one of the closest to those currently being used by the Order. He had no reason not to offer it up, besides his own selfishness and guilt.

The other Order members had been very forthcoming in offering to help Sirius clean up the house. After all, it wasn't every day that a large and unplottable house fell into their hands. Molly Weasley had taken charge over the entire ground floor, sending away several screaming portraits and magically scrubbing all of the floors clean. She wouldn't allow her children into the house until she was certain there was nothing dangerous they might stumble upon in their youthful curiosity. Remus was more careful, trying not to throw out anything that Sirius might later decide that he wanted. He smiled at the rare photographs of Sirius as a child, probably happier to remember him like that than the way he was now, wrinkled and too skinny and far more foul-tempered than he'd ever been, even as a teenager. When Remus cleaned, he moved things to the attic for him to assess 'in his own time'. Sirius didn't care about that. He had no emotional attachment to anything in the house. But he wouldn't let Molly Weasley, or even Remus, into Regulus' room. Not before he'd had the chance to look for himself, at least. So there he was, willing Kreacher to stay away as he stepped into the long-abandoned bedroom of his dead baby brother.