The Affairs of the Dead (Regulus gen)
Went to bed at three yesterday. Woke up at eleven. Yep, I'm in a fairly good mood. :) I'm writing SPN fic right now, a series of drabbles. It's fun, even if it's not that long so far. I also have a new callous in my thumb, from the special pencil for caligraphy ;-; Gah, it's too much homework.
I wrote HP fic for a meme in kungfooqueen's journal. I know, I surprised myself too XD
The Affairs of the Dead
HP - Regulus gen - 333 Words
Regulus haunts his childhood house. He walks along the dusty hallways, remembering every time he had been scolded for running by Kreacher. He doesn’t leave any footprints on the carpet-thick dirt covering the floors. He goes through the walls, through the floors to the hidden cellars that were forbidden to him as a child, practices foxtrot by himself, caresses the skulls that were left there to rot in the darkness. He vaguely remembers the screams that his mother used to claim were nightmares. His expression is blank, even as the bones in the cellar are child-sized and broken beyond repair. He hasn’t felt anything for years.
He sometimes sees Kreacher around, but he tries to avoid him out of habit, even if there’s no repulse left when he sees the creature. He used to sit in front of his mother’s portrait, on the early years after his death, and talk to her, but it’s just boring now, hearing his mother say over and over again what a wretched ruin both of her children had turned out to be. It doesn’t really bother him, but her voice is shrill and high, and he has learnt to like silence, after a slow, quiet death.
If he concentrates enough, he can sometimes light the candles in the chandeliers, and he stares, blankly, as the thick, red velvet shines with the light, looking as warm and inviting as his blood had looked on the walls of that lonely cabin as he was dying. It reminds of his family, of his mother’s robes and Sirius’ house and cousin Bella’s red lips and sharp tongue. It’s home, somehow.
He doesn’t keep the time anymore, but it’s not raining and there’s sun outside, so he figures it’s summer when the door opens for the first time in ten years, and his brother enters the house, looking haggard, the Order of the Phoenix behind him.
He’s still hollow inside, but he figures at least he’ll have something more interesting to haunt now.
I wrote HP fic for a meme in kungfooqueen's journal. I know, I surprised myself too XD
The Affairs of the Dead
HP - Regulus gen - 333 Words
Regulus haunts his childhood house. He walks along the dusty hallways, remembering every time he had been scolded for running by Kreacher. He doesn’t leave any footprints on the carpet-thick dirt covering the floors. He goes through the walls, through the floors to the hidden cellars that were forbidden to him as a child, practices foxtrot by himself, caresses the skulls that were left there to rot in the darkness. He vaguely remembers the screams that his mother used to claim were nightmares. His expression is blank, even as the bones in the cellar are child-sized and broken beyond repair. He hasn’t felt anything for years.
He sometimes sees Kreacher around, but he tries to avoid him out of habit, even if there’s no repulse left when he sees the creature. He used to sit in front of his mother’s portrait, on the early years after his death, and talk to her, but it’s just boring now, hearing his mother say over and over again what a wretched ruin both of her children had turned out to be. It doesn’t really bother him, but her voice is shrill and high, and he has learnt to like silence, after a slow, quiet death.
If he concentrates enough, he can sometimes light the candles in the chandeliers, and he stares, blankly, as the thick, red velvet shines with the light, looking as warm and inviting as his blood had looked on the walls of that lonely cabin as he was dying. It reminds of his family, of his mother’s robes and Sirius’ house and cousin Bella’s red lips and sharp tongue. It’s home, somehow.
He doesn’t keep the time anymore, but it’s not raining and there’s sun outside, so he figures it’s summer when the door opens for the first time in ten years, and his brother enters the house, looking haggard, the Order of the Phoenix behind him.
He’s still hollow inside, but he figures at least he’ll have something more interesting to haunt now.