It was cold in the house of Black. Orion sat down on the armchair in the drawing room, opening himself a bottle of firewhisky.
Regulus' eyes were empty, the look in them was in a way terrifying. He felt his wand pressing against his ribs in his suit pocket.
It was all Orion's fault.
The funerals were over. The house was freezing as Walbuga disappeared to the master bedroom to change out of her dress.
Now it was just them. Orion, reading the Daily Prophet on that green fucking armchair, sipping his drink in his suit like nothing had ever happened.
And Regulus, his fourteen year old son with rage boiling in his veins.
The boy stared at his father from the doorway, fingers reaching for his wand in the dead silence.
It was all Orion's fault.
And without moving his eyes off of his father's smug face and graying black hair, he squeezed his wand in his steady fingers.
All those years of reading about dark arts, he decided that it wasn't for nothing.
"Avada Kedavra."
He spelled calmly, followed by a green flash of light.
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FanfictionThe instinct not to breathe underwater is so strong that it overcomes the agony of running out of air. No matter how desperate you are, you won't inhale until you're on the verge of losing consciounsness. Sirius knew that. He stood there, staring do...
