Nowhere Boy (Wolfstar)

The Great Gig in the Sky

The White Room, Time Unknown

Sirius lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone, although he was not perfectly sure that he was there himself...

Sirius' eyes snapped open as he heard something in the distance. It sounded like a piano playing softly, but it was so quiet, so far away that he couldn't be sure if he were only imagining it. As he became aware of the music, he suddenly became aware of himself. He raised a hand to his face and felt flesh and bone. So, he was solid and he was here. Where was here, exactly?

Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust his vision to his unfamiliar surroundings. He appeared to be in a large, white room, surrounded by bright silvery mist. Inquisitively, he swiped his hand threw the mist but it felt neither hot nor cold. Curiously, it didn't feel of anything, almost as though it wasn't there at all. He couldn't remember how he had come to be in this strange place, nor could he recall where he had been before his arrival. His head felt blurry; every time he tried to grasp at a memory it seemed to slip between his fingertips. Struggling to his feet he looked all around him for an exit, but saw none. Wherever he had come from, he should probably be heading back.

The sound of the piano playing got louder and Sirius frowned. Where the hell was that music coming from?

As soon as the thought had entered his mind, Sirius noticed that there was a small table to his right. He didn't remember seeing it there before. He took a cautious step forward, unsure of what kind of magic this was. It didn't feel like dark magic, although that didn't put his mind any more at ease. As he approached, he saw that atop the small white table was a record player, the same one that he had in his bedroom back at Grimmauld Place.

That's where I live , he remembered suddenly. Strange that he would forget something like that. Then again, everything about this place was strange. He stopped in front of the record player and watched as the vinyl turned slowly, a tinny voice emanated from the speakers:

"And I am not frightened of dying

Any time will do, I don't mind

Why should I be frightened of dying?

There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime..."

"You look well, brother."

Sirius spun round. Regulus was walking towards him, alive and well and smiling at him. He paused just short of a stunned Sirius and his grin broadened, "It's good to see you again. It's been a while."

"Reg," said Sirius weakly. He looked his brother once over, his eyes wide with disbelief. His brother - his dead brother - now stood before him, young and fresh-faced, dressed in green dress robes of the finest silk; he didn't look like he'd aged a day since the last time Sirius had saw him. He reached out for his brother, convinced that he must be a spectre or a hallucination. But he pressed a finger into the soft fabric of Regulus' robes and he felt as solid as Sirius did. He didn't understand. He couldn't be here. Yet here he stood.

"It's really you," he choked.

"It is," Regulus confirmed softly. Sirius pulled him into a tight hug, one which Regulus gladly returned. He didn't know how this was possible - he didn't much care, either - Sirius just held his brother as tightly as he could, afraid that if he let go he would disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," Regulus assured him gently, patting his back. "Not this time."

Sirius pulled back, gripping Regulus' shoulder to steady himself. He had so many questions but all he could manage to say was, "How?"