Regulus died heroically, and no one knows. Now he waits for his brother, hoping. He wants to explain. He wants forgiveness. He wants to be told that finally, he's done something right.

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Waiting in Purgatory; Afraid to ask Forgiveness:

Regulus had only ever wanted approval. When he was little, Sirius had always been his hero; strong, dashing, brave, and of course older. When Mum yelled and Regulus cried, it was Sirius who wiped away his tears and told him he was loved.

It was Sirius who laughed with him. Who took him on grand adventures and pulled him out of trouble at the last minute. It was Sirius who told him he would always be there for him, no matter what. And it was Sirius who abandoned the family because he didn't believe in the 'pureblood crap' their parents were spouting: Sirius who looked on him with disdain when he was too weak to stand up to their parents after he was gone.

He took to hiding in Sirius's room over summer holidays after Sirius left. Mum never thought to check for him there and sometimes he hoped that his brother would walk in and maybe they could talk without the pressures of Gryffindor versus Slytherine. But it never happened.

Regulus didn't want to be a rebel. And he thought, that maybe, if he did what was expected, for once his mother would love him like she should. For a while he thought it was true. But Sirius never forgave him. And deep down, he never forgave himself.

He took the Mark. Mum was so proud, and for a few short months he drowned in her approval. But then he realized that Sirius really had been right. He didn't like what the Dark Lord stood for. He wanted out. But that was impossible.

When he stole the locket, he wasn't trying to gain approval…not really. For once in his cursed life he was trying to do something right, because it was right. And if he lived through this then maybe Sirius would forgive him... if he didn't live through it, well then, Sirius would never know because Regulus wasn't telling anyone but his older brother what he'd done.

When Regulus woke up the Dark Mark wasn't on his arm anymore. Instead there was a dark smear on the pale skin of his forearm. He sat down in front of the blank space where his mother's portrait should have been and cried.

Not because no one was waiting for him; he didn't want to see his mother and father, and Sirius wasn't dead yet. He cried because even in death it seemed he could not escape his past mistakes. He cried because he desperately feared that underneath the dark smear on his arm, the Dark Mark was still there.

Later he stood up and decided to find out if he really was alone in the house… and if he really was in his house.

Light streamed through the windows and he knew instinctively that the front door would not lead to London. He checked the door and to his relief found it locked. He didn't try to unlock it.

As he wandered down the hallway he realized that it seemed brighter. He also noticed that all of the heads of the dead house elves had vanished. Instead in their place halfway down the hallway was a picture of Kreacher. Oddly he was wearing the locket that Regulus had hidden on the dark island and brandishing a kitchen knife. He smiled at the strange picture and ghosted up the stairs.

Hesitantly he checked his parents' rooms. They weren't in the Great and Noble House of Black. For whatever reasons he had been shunted here his parents were not anywhere near. The last report of his life would not be greeted by shrill yells or threats of hexes. Thank the fates for that.

He stopped outside of Sirius's room. Nervously he glanced down at the smear on his arm, looking for the thing that was proof of why his brother hated him; why he would never again see Sirius smile at him, for him. To his surprise it was paler than it had been. Deep down he began to hope.

With a deep breath and a desperate grasp at courage he pushed open his older brother's door. It was empty of course. Sirius hadn't been here since his fifth year at school. Besides, wherever Sirius was, he was still alive. He still hated his little brother – didn't know the sacrifice Regulus had made for him.

It was easy to forget that he was dead. He felt so alive, so real. And he was tired. With a sigh he sprawled on Sirius's bed and gazed up at the Muggle girls Sirius had charmed to the walls until he fell asleep.

He didn't know how long he stayed in Sirius's room. Sometimes he thought he heard pounding on the front door. Other times he dreamed that his mother was downstairs yelling for him. Often he forgot where he was… when it was.

He was fourteen and Sirius had just left to go live with James. Regulus spent most of his time in his brother's room, hoping he would come back, thinking he might save his little brother. His Mum came stalking down the hallway – and he jerked awake.

Things in the house changed when he wasn't looking. The house seemed to dust itself and one day most of the Dark objects went missing. One day he could have sworn someone banished the boggart in the living room, but he was alone in the house and he wasn't even sure there had been a boggart in the living room.

He began to feel as though Sirius was in the house with him, but he could never see him. He was always just around the corner, sulking, stalking, a kettle about to blow. When he slept he thought he could here him having loud angry arguments. Sometimes he thought he was twelve again, but this Sirius sounded older.

He never opened the front door, and he never looked out the windows although sometimes he saw vague shapes when he walked by them. These things didn't bother him as they should. He knew he had been here for a while, but it didn't seem to matter. Time was stagnant here, and he was waiting.

One day he heard Bellatrixe's familiar laugh and his blood ran cold. Then a loud thump came from downstairs. He burst out of Sirius's room and leapt down the stairs. Turning the corner into the entryway he came to a dead halt. There was no sign of his cousin, but his older brother, Sirius, lay unconscious exactly where Regulus had woken up fifteen years ago. He stood stalk still, afraid to approach his brother and prayed to whatever gods were listening that when Sirius came to, he didn't come up swinging.

When Sirius realized he was dead, the first thing he expected to see was James's mischievous smile, maybe hear Lily's warm laugh. He didn't expect to see the door-jamb of Grimmauld Place. He thought perhaps the most recent fiasco had been a dream and he'd actually passed out drunk in the entryway. He lay there for a few minutes absorbing the fact that he didn't have a hangover, and he should, he also didn't remember actually getting drunk.

Furtive movements made him aware of the fact that someone was behind him. He stood slowly and turned, preparing himself for yet another lecture from Molly on responsibility. None came, and as he stared at Regulus in shock he realized that he was really and truly dead.

To be continued... :D But first, REVIEW!