It’s the laugh he hears first, and somehow it breaks through the constant hum of noise in Diagon to reach the walking man. It strikes at his ears with all the familiarity and nostalgia of a summer’s day, and gray eyes flicker around almost on impulse, searching for the source of the elusive sound- he’s not quite yet realized what it is or why he’s looking, but perhaps just subconsciously, he has. And what he sees when he looks around, it makes his heart stop a beat, his breath catch in his throat and lock in there. A moment, frozen in time. Without thinking he’s taken one faltering step in the direction of that familiar stranger, and then in the breath of a wind Regulus has slipped free from Andromeda’s side, gone.

The man’s back is turned, walking away, further and further with every moment, and seized by a sudden distress Regulus abandons navigating the maze of people, he can shove and push his way through if he needs to- but as soon as he does, the crowd just seems to part for him, as if unconsciously the entire horde of people can recognize his urgency, his desperation for this moment, and seamlessly it lets him slip past.

And before he knows it his hand has caught onto the stranger’s sleeve, toppling the package from his arms but Regulus can’t care to notice, too caught in the sudden rush of giddying relief that this is real, that this is no nightmare nor vision conjured by his broken mind and he can feel the rough material against his fingers, the burning skin beneath the sleeve and he knows this is reality.

“-Sirius,” he breathes the man’s name like it’s a reverent prayer, an intake of breath that brings oxygen back to his lungs (when did he forget to breath)- a rush of air in his throat that is like life itself.