The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

Regulus's Portrait

Peter came home from his deliveries and found the flat in East London empty, a note on the kitchen table. The note informed him that: 1) Remus and Sirius would be home late as Remus had an arts show at the college and, 2), if Peter was interested in coming by, here was a ticket to the show that he could use and they'd see him there, otherwise, 3), tomorrow morning James had invited them all to omelets at the Potters' and, 4), they were all invited to hear about his first day as a Quidditch Captain and Flying Instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh and, 5), there was take out in the fridge - but, 6), Sirius ate all the dumplings, so, 7), he was very sorry Wormy.

Peter opened the fridge and found that indeed there was a large stack of Chinese take away boxes inside, and he opened them up to find they'd left pork chow mein, two egg rolls, a bit of egg foo young, and two teriyaki beef sticks. All Peter's favorites. Although he did sorely miss the dumplings. He piled everything into one take out container and took a fork from the drawer and carried his dinner down the hall with him and had nearly made it to his bedroom when he paused and pushed open Sirius and Remus's bedroom door and peered into the dark.

The bed was littered with half the contents of the closet and the fading sunlight coming through the window was only just enough to illuminate the silhouette of the stack of books Remus was working through teetering on his nightstand on the far side of the bed as well as the odd assortment of things that Sirius kept on his side of the bed.

Peter's eyes landed on the old Casio QS-16 watch... then wandered up the wall to where the framed drawing of Regulus Black hung.

Regulus's Portrait was asleep, leaning against the edge of the frame, eyes closed, chest peacefully rising and falling...

Peter inched closer, nervous, glancing over his shoulder, even though he knew that Sirius and Remus weren't home to walk in and catch him doing this. He put his food down on the dresser and wiped his hands against his shirt, ridding his fingers of grease from the food and the sweat pooling in his palms. He cleared his throat, vying for attention, but the portrait slept onward. He cleared it again - and still, no reaction from the portrait. Finally, Peter climbed up onto the bed, standing on the mattress, and leaned over, reaching for the portrait. He lifted the frame off the nail it hung on and pulled it from the wall.

When he got to the floor and looked again, the portrait had woken up and now Regulus's Portrait was staring up at him, brows cinched in concern. Peter lowered the portrait away and hurried to grab the take away box from the dresser, then scurried down the hallway to his own room.

He sat at the desk, the portrait face-down for the moment, nervously eating the food with his fingers. When he'd finished, he wiped his hands on his shirt and lifted up the portrait slowly, leaning the frame against the desk lamp so he was looking into the face of Regulus's Portrait from across the desk top.

Regulus's Portrait stared back at him, eyes confused and worried.

"Hullo," Peter said tremulously.

Regulus's Portrait blinked, but did not reply.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew," he said, unsure if the portrait version of Regulus would remember who he was.

"I know who you are," Regulus's Portrait answered.

Peter wasn't sure what he was doing or what he expected to happen once he'd taken the portrait off the wall of Sirius and Remus's bedroom, and now that he'd done it he wasn't even sure it was even a good plan. After all, what would he do with it now? Would he question the portrait and then put it back? Or did he truly expect Sirius not to notice the portrait was gone? Surely Sirius would notice the portrait had been taken. Of course Sirius would miss the portrait - if for no reason other than the fact that Remus Lupin had been the one who had drawn it. What if the portrait talked to Sirius? What if it told Sirius what Peter had asked about, what Peter and Oni were doing? However, it was far too late to consider that now that he was back in the bedroom, the portrait's eyes on him, quizzically studying his nervous twitching.