Chapter 48: Future Looks Good
Ministry of Magic, January 20th 1998
Kingsley sighs wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, before levelling me with a suffering look. "Potter…you know, I wouldn't be asking this, if it wasn't essential. We are on the same side now, and the wizarding citizens need to know that," he says with his low, calm voice.
I chew the inside of my cheek, contemplating his request, while my eyes trail over his office; a circular room with a high ceiling, blue fabrics mixing with dark wood, with several portraits hanging on the walls, and a seating area near the fireplace on the other side of the room, opposite to his intricate detailed, claw-footed writing desk we are sitting at.
What Kingsley asks – me joining the Ministry, stating publicly that they are the good guys now – has been something thoroughly discussed between the members of the Order. Something I have been hesitant about, and haven't been able to decide if it is something I should do.
It's not that I don't believe in Kingsley, since he's brilliant, and I more than trust him, but…the Ministry is a large institute, he's only one man, and surely, there are still one or two loose ends that have not been yet handled. And me, showing support for an organisation that keeps hags like Umbridge in their payroll – well, that's just…not what I thought I'd do, even for the greater good, even if it is to rebuild the wizarding Britain.
"This about Umbridge?" Kingsley asks, a scrutinising look in his eyes.
I let out an irritated huff, crossing my arms.
" – because I intend to keep my promise, Harry. I will have her sacked – "
"It's not just Umbridge," I say harshly, interrupting him. I trail a hand through my unruly hair. "It's all the shit this place has put me through during the past years!" I say, somewhat heatedly, "And yeah, it is a bit about Umbridge too – I mean, how many others like her there are still? …And don't even let me get started about the Wizengamot," I hiss disdainfully.
A Wizengamot, that consists mostly of the exactly same members that were there when Fudge was the Minister. A Wizengamot, that sentenced the Malfoys last week – including Narcissa, who actually helped to bring Voldemort down – into Azkaban, regardless that Hermione, Ron and I spoke on their behalf. Granted, Narcissa and Draco will only be there for six months, but Lucius, well…he received a life sentence.
And now, the same Wizengamot intends to hold an assessing hearing of Regulus Black, to decide if they should sentence him from the crimes, he did twenty years ago.
Kingsley sighs. "I am working on it," he says, voice tight. "I'm fairly certain that Regulus will not be sentenced. The public knows his story by now, knows his assistance to the Order, his contribution in the second wizarding war, and defeating Voldemort. However, we must follow the rules of our government, and declare him innocent in the eyes of law," Kingsley explains coolly.
"I trust you know we have quite the many issues to fix inside the Ministry, as well as outside," he continues pointedly. "And you speeding things up – helping us to rebuild both the Ministry and the Wizarding community – well, it certainly would not be unwelcome."
I stare at his table, knowing that he needs an answer. It's been a month, already. I take in a deep breath, and then look at him, keeping my expression blank.
"I have conditions."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "I assumed as much. Name them, then," he says, inclining his head, before lifting his brows in question.
I clear my throat, my thoughts at the discussion between Hermione and me last night.
"Hey," I mutter, after seeing her sitting alone in the library, curled up into an armchair, a thick, dusty book on her lap, and a cup of tea steaming on the coffee table.
Hermione hums in recognition, even before she tears her gaze away from the book. "Hey, Harry. What is it?" She asks gently as she lifts her head and looks at me.
I glance around us hesitantly.
"We are alone," Hermione says, now watchful and curious. "Did you want to talk about something?"
I give her a firm nod, and then, just in case, I cast a silencing charm at the door. Hermione's brows rise high on her forehead as I walk up to her.
"I need to show you something," I say simply, and take a seat on the sofa. "Come here," I add, inquiring, and now Hermione looks both cautious and intrigued.
She moves to put her book on the table, next to her tea, before standing up and quickly taking a seat next to me. "Okay. What is it?" She asks, her eyes round with anticipation.
I pull my mokeskin pouch – the one Hagrid gave me – from the pocket of my robes, not really feeling the need to carry it around my neck anymore, and dig through it for a moment, before pulling my hand from inside the pouch.
"This." I say, opening my palm for her to see.
Hermione lets out a small gasp. She's silent for a long moment, her eyes at my outstretched palm, a contemplative expression on her face, before she turns her gaze to me. "Why?"
"I have a plan," I tell her, and I know that she can see it, from my gaze, I know that she realises what I'm talking about, what I intend to do.
Hermione worries her lip, a deep frown between her brows. But she doesn't say anything more at the subject, and I'm glad for it. Instead, we start discussing my upcoming meeting with Kingsley, and what he expects me to do.
"Bloody hell," Kingsley grunts, after I explain my request to him. "Can't you just ask for Galleons?" He asks, exasperated, before muttering, "Although…we don't exactly have those either…"
"I just want to say goodbye," I tell him, watching him intently, trying to make him see my despair through my eyes. "Ten minutes, no more."
Kingsley looks deeply unsatisfied and is quiet for a moment. "Five," he finally grunts. "And no more," He says, clenching his jaw. "And you bloody well can pray I'm still the Minister after pulling these strings," he adds, before narrowing his eyes at me. "And I will personally drag you back by your disorderly mop of hair, if you try to do anything imbecilic. Do you understand?" He asks, his voice dark.
I give him a quick nod. "Of course."
"And I'm expecting you to give a speech tomorrow."
I groan inwardly, but keep my expression sincere. "I would be honoured."
Kingsley huffs with annoyance. "Very well, then. When do you wish to do this?"
"Now?" I ask, squinting my eyes a bit, giving him a mild grimace.
Kingsley rolls his eyes, muttering something about his dinner, and then proceeds to stand up.
He takes us through his mostly empty floor – it's getting late, and I assume many of the Ministry employees are already finished for the day – nodding at his secretary; a young blonde woman, whose name is Mafalda…well, I think with a small frown, it could be Miranda too, and then, we walk in silence, only bumping into a handful of people on our journey from Level one; Minister for Magic and Support Staff to Level nine; Department of Mysteries.
As soon as the voice in the lifts tell us that we have reached the Department of Mysteries, and as soon as the grilles slide open, I'm struck with a memory. I remember, like it was yesterday, when my friends and I came here, and when I finally walked through the plain black door, after months and months of dreaming about it.
If the Level one and Atrium were quiet, the second-lowest level of the Ministry is eerily silent, with its flickering torches making shadows run against the corridor walls.
Kingsley looks at me carefully. "You okay, Potter?"
I realise my breathing has quickened. I clear my throat, and nod at him jerkily. "I'm fine. Is – is no one here?" I ask, feeling somewhat bewildered and on the edge, as no one is questioning the purpose of our visit.
Kingsley lets out an unconcerned sound. "Unspeakables rarely work after five in the afternoon," Kingsley says wryly, evidently gutted that he is still here, at this hour, well over eight in the evening.
He then gestures at the door, at the end of the corridor, and we make our way there, walking through it. I step after Kingsley into the large, black, dimly lit room, it's round walls lined with doors, and like before, as soon as the door closes behind us, the room starts to rotate.
As the room stops, I turn to look at Kingsley, my brow arched. "I hope you know your way out of here," I say, a hint of irony in my voice.
Kingsley scoffs quietly, and proceeds to step towards the door immediately to his right.
I lift my brows in surprise, as the familiar view opens inside the door. "How did you – well, never mind." I grunt, after seeing Kingsley's smug expression.
I walk into the large chamber, where in the middle of it, several feet lower from the door, stands a raised stone podium with an archway made of stone.
I stare at the crumbling archway, and the torn curtain hanging from it. The Veil.
I'm speechless, painfully reminded by the last time I was here, as the memory starts to unravel itself in my mind, even against my will. My chest feels tight, when I see, in the forefront in my mind, as Sirius falls through the Veil, again and again.
Kingsley clears his throat next to me.
I blink quickly, slightly ashamed by the wetness in my eyes.
"I'll be back in five," Kingsley mutters, and then, turns away, closing the door behind him.
I gape at the now closed door for a second, and then glance around me, surprised that he actually left me here, alone.
My eyes move over the courtroom-like benches surrounding the pit, before I walk down the descending stone steps. As I reach the pit, and the stone arch, my eyes are glued at the black curtain.
I try to listen attentively. But there's nothing this time. Why had I heard all those voices last time? Was it…was it because of the piece of Voldemort's soul inside me? I suppose I'll never find out.
The curtain flutters slowly in the still air.
Taking in a deep breath, I walk closer to it, until I'm right before the swaying Veil – still keeping some distance, just in case. However, even if I can't hear the voices, I can feel it again; like there's something –someone's presence, behind the curtain.
Knowing I don't have much time, I hastily dig into my mokeskin pouch, pulling my hand up, and…the stone.
The Resurrection Stone.
I watch silently at the small item, at its carved surface, where the Deathly Hallows sign rests. I close my eyes, turning the stone three times in my hand, knowing that it didn't work last time I used it, but hoping it would now.
A month ago, when I was about to walk into the forest to die, I turned the stone, and I asked for my parents, and…Sirius. But he didn't come. The Stone brings back the dead, but it didn't bring back Sirius. Which can only mean Sirius is not dead yet.
I feel…somewhat moronic, standing here, in a vast chamber, in front of a stony arch, alone, eyes closed, holding a stone. It has to work. I need it to work.
I open my eyes, squeezing the stone in my hand. I need him to be here.
…There's nothing. There's no one.
Only silence.
"Shit…" I mutter, and try again, pressing my eyes closed, and turning the stone over in my hand, knowing that soon, Kingsley will be back, and that this is very likely my only chance of coming here.
Regret washes over me.
Why the hell didn't I tell Regulus?! Why didn't I speak with him, make a plan, practice the magic we researched? Why in the bloody name of Merlin I didn't do that?
"Aargh!" I growl, as, after the third try, nothing happens. "Come on, Sirius!"
I start to feel desperate. My lungs try to work hard, to breathe in air, but it gets more difficult by the second. I start to panic. Nearly hyperventilating, my hands shaking, I try again, and again, until a scream of frustration and hopelessness is torn out of my throat, and I throw the stone away, hoping it will disintegrate into million pieces, so that I don't have to look at the stupid thing ever again.
I frown. There's no sound. Nothing clatters on the floor, there're no cracking sounds. There's nothing. I blink, looking around me, looking at the Veil. The stone's not there.
But on the other side of the Veil, visible through the ripped and torn curtains...there's someone.
I nearly scream in surprise, as a cold shiver runs down my spine. And then – I realise I know the man standing behind the Veil, his shoulder's hunched, the black, shaggy hair falling loosely over his shoulders.
" – SIRIUS!" I gasp.
I gape at him, unable to believe he's there. My godfather, looking scruffy, looking weary, looking like he's about to fall apart, but – but he is there. I'm afraid to close my eyes, because, what if this is in fact the fabrication of my disordered mind? What if he'll be gone the moment, I open my eyes?
Sirius frowns at the floor, muttering something, shivering.
"Sirius?!" I say again, urgently, unable to move, unable to break this – this spell, or whatever the hell it is, because I can finally see him with my own eyes.
"Don't…" He mutters, looking pained. "…n-not…n-not r-real," he gasps, shaking vigorously his head.
I frown at him, bewildered. "…Sirius? What is it? I'm – I'm here," I tell him, trying to stay calm, trying to make sense of him. "It's me – Harry!"
Sirius's face distorts with pain. "N-No!" He grunts, grabbing his matted hair with his both hands, his face disappearing behind them. There's a raw whine echoing in the room, and only when he screams, I realise it's him. "I'm n-not coming!"
I stare at him in horror. "…Sirius?" I say, very quietly, my heart beating rapidly. I don't know what I should do, but I know I need to see him clearly, I know I need to hold him. To make him see mee, and feel me.
Stepping quickly to the side, to avoid the Veil, I'm finally facing him. I watch him in wonder; he's so real! As real as he was when I saw him the last time! He has to be here, and I think…I think I somehow…I brought him back.
It must've been the stone…
"Sirius…?" I whisper hesitantly, and when the ragged looking man merely trembles in front of me, his face still hidden, I slowly reach out to him.
As soon as my fingertips touch the back of his hand, Sirius lets out a loud yelp, his body jerking violently.
I clench my jaw, and proceed to take his hand into mine, pulling it down, squeezing it. "I'm here, Sirius," I tell him, my voice thick. His eyes are pressed tightly shut. "…I'm here, and I came to take you back home."
Sirius's shoulders sag, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. "I'm so t-tired…" he whispers. "…p-promised him…p-promised I'd stay…"
I swallow hard, my eyes stinging slightly. "Sirius, I'm really here, I promise you. Please, come with me," I urge him, taking his other hand into mine, pulling it down. "I promise, this is real," I say, my throat constricting, begging inwardly that it is.
Because I don't know if I can survive if it isn't.
"Come here," I croak, pulling him closer, into a tight embrace, and Sirius gasps, leaning heavily against me. "I promise, I'm real," I grunt against shoulder, and feel him stiffening, but not letting go.
"…Harry?" He whispers mutedly.
I nod quickly. "Yes! It's Harry!" I gasp, trying to pull away, to see him finally, but Sirius lets out a sob of anguish, and squeezes me tightly against him.
"Harry!" He breathes, shaking his head. "…Harry!"
Then, he leans back, staring at me in wonder and in overwhelm. His eyes move across my face, taking in every detail, before his grey eyes meet mine, and they fill with tears.
"I-I…I can't believe it!" He wheezes, tears trickling down his cheeks. "I can't – I –" he croaks, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving mine, beseeching mine. "Am I…am I alive?" He asks, his voice weak and frightened.
I try to give him a reassuring look, but it's been too long, and I can't stay calm, I can't stay collected. "Yes, you're alive!" I rasp, "You're back! I have you back!" I let out shaky breath, quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
And I swear, there's a ghost of a smile on his lips, before he draws me into another hug, this one a bit shorter. "I'm alive…" Sirius whispers with a muffled voice, before pulling back and watching me in amazement. "But – but how?"
I shake my head slightly, not really knowing how to answer to him, and if I should be answering to him right now. Knowing that Kingsley is due to stomp inside any moment now, evidently much later than a mere five minutes he promised me, I give Sirius a solemn look. "I will explain everything to you, I promise. But – we need to go soon, and – well – will you trust me?"
Sirius looks taken aback, but then, he gives me a small nod.
"I'll take us to Grimmauld, and I'll explain everything to you," I say in a calm manner, even though I can feel myself shivering in anxiety.
Sirius watches me with a small frown, before nodding again.
"Are you hurt? Can you walk?" I ask, as I remember his appearance, noticing again how weak and thin he looks.
Sirius grunts, shaking me off. "Lead the way," he mutters, tearing his gaze away from me.
Just as we turn towards the door, but before we can take even a step towards it, Kingsley walks inside the chamber-like room.
"Are you ready to –" There's a hitch in his voice. "W-What in the name of Merlin?!" Kingsley shouts, gaping at Sirius.
I start to explain Kingsley what happened – which is somewhat difficult, when I intentionally leave the stone unmentioned – and luckily, Sirius mentions something about hearing voices before he walked through the Veil, that he felt someone…asking for him to come back, Kingsley's expression changes from suspicious to bewildered. I too feel a bit unnerved by his words, and decide to ask him about that later.
I try to make Kingsley understand how important it is, that Sirius will be at home, and in a safe environment, and not prodded and poked by the Healers – a comment that earns a narrow-eyed look from Sirius.
Kingsley hesitates. "I still think you ought to go to Mungo's…" He mutters, watching Sirius with a examining look. "And if you think I'm satisfied by your explanation, well, you will be deeply disappointed," He grunts, his suspicious gaze moving from Sirius to me.
"Kings…"
"Don't 'Kings' me, Potter," He says sternly, looking stressed. "I expect you back here, tomorrow morning, to make an official statement about this before your…public speech," he grunts, a hint of smugness on his features.
Kingsley then looks at Sirius, "And you will go to St Mungo's tomorrow, understood?"
Sirius gives him a nod.
"You do realise I'm only letting you go now, because I consider you both as my friends, and I trust your words?" Kingsley asks tightly. "And it would be a shitty thing to do to neglect my instructions, especially if it comes out that the Minister has granted his friends certain privileges," He continues, lifting his brows pointedly.
"What?" Sirius asks faintly, gaping at Kingsley.
I grimace. "Yeah, um. Kings is the…um…Minister for Magic," I tell Sirius, "I'll tell you everything, I promise, once we get into Grimmauld Place," I say hastily, my eyes moving over Sirius's frame, frame, that seems to be swaying a bit.
"Potter…?" Kingsley mutters, evidently taking note of the same thing, evidently thinking more and more about St Mungo's as the sane option.
"We should go," I grunt, and then, proceed to pull my Invisibility Cloak from beneath my robes.
Kingsley arches a brow at me, but lets out a sigh. "Fine. Pull it on, Sirius."
We make our way up the stone steps, and I make sure to keep Sirius directly in front of me, holding a small piece of the fabric of the Cloak between my outstretched fingers.
Kingsley escorts us to the Apparition point at the Atrium. As we walk across the dark wood floor in the empty grand hall, and under the vibrant blue ceiling with its golden, moving symbols, I spot the security desk, and its guard; Jacob something – who apparently has started in the post recently.
Jacob nods at us, before turning back to his task; closing the several floo gates for the night.
I turn to Kingsley, giving him a grateful look. "Thank you," I say quietly.
Kingsley nods tightly, and then says, "Until tomorrow." He then turns away, moving towards the lifts, presumably going back to his office.
"…Ready?" I mumble under my breath.
"Yeah," Sirius says with a soft grunt.
He takes my hand, squeezing it lightly, and then, focusing on home, focusing on the number twelve, Grimmauld Place, I turn on the spot and Disapparate with Sirius.
We Apparate into the front steps of the house – even with the war over, it is impossible to Apparate inside Grimmauld Place.
I glance behind me, in the darkness, but the street is quiet and empty. I push Sirius inside, into the hallway, before pulling the Invisibility Cloak off of him.
Sirius looks exhausted and overwhelmed.
"Kitchen? Drawing room?" I ask from him, tentatively, and as he takes a shaky step forward, I wonder if I should help him.
"Drawing room," he grunts, and then, another shaky step, his breathing getting laboured.
Then I remember that Kreacher is here, and the elf can help Sirius to move quite a bit faster. "Kreacher!" I call the elf, and Sirius lets out a huff of irritation.
The elf appears at my feet with a loud crack, and gives a small bow, before noticing Sirius. The elf gapes at his old master, before slowly turning back to me. "M-Master called?"
I give the elf a nod. "Take Sirius to the drawing room to rest, and then bring, um, something to eat…?" I say, wondering if Sirius can actually eat something.
"Potions," Sirius grunts, his eyes rolling in his head.
My eyes widen in slight dread. "Yeah! Potions! Healing Potion, Blood-Replenishing – um, bring them all!" I say hastily to Kreacher, starting to seriously question my decision to bring Sirius back home.
What if he has some – some, internal damage, I'm not aware of… Bloody hell, I need Hermione for this!
As Kreacher takes Sirius by his hand, and Disapparates, I quickly run upstairs, to the second floor, barging into the library, where I suspect Hermione is situated. But the room is empty and dark.
"W-What…?" I mumble, walking briskly out, and making my way downstairs to the first floor – to the drawing room.
There's a loud shriek and a crash in my destination.
Hermione!
I run into the room, panting slightly, and see Hermione, standing in the middle of the room, utterly amazed and stunned, gaping at Sirius as if he's some sort of alien, a cup of tea shattered on the carpet next to her.
"SIRIUS!" Hermione screams, her voice tight and high, and then she spots me. "Harry! H-How in the – how is this –" She turns back to Sirius, who is sprawled on the sofa, leaning his head heavily against the backrest, and who is about to pass out if something's not done about it, "Y-You're a-alive?" She stammers, stumbling in her steps as she moves closer to him.
"Hermione!" I say urgently, almost running to them, to the seating area. "He's hurt!" I say harshly, sitting next to him, and right then, Kreacher Apparates close to me, placing a large tray of potion vials and bottles on the coffee table.
Hermione's already on it, waving her wand to cast a diagnostic charm, muttering under her breath as vapours of light smoke appear in the air, hovering over different parts of Sirius's body. She snatches a small vial from the table. "Drink this, Sirius," She says, her voice shaking.
"…It's a modified Vitamix Potion," she quickly adds, even though Sirius merely glances at the vial before tossing it down. "– to ease the symptoms of severe malnourishment," she mutters, almost like she talks to herself. "What then – the Healing Potion, or the Blood-Replenishing –"
"Just give him something," I urge her, feeling panicked, my eyes locked at Sirius, who looks about the same as before.
Hermione narrows her eyes at me. "You do realise that if he ingests these in the wrong order, they will lose some of their healing properties?" She says pointedly, and then decides on the Blood-Replenishing Potion, handing it to Sirius, who downs it with unsteady hands.
"Are you hurting?" Hermione asks with worry in her eyes, mixing in with her bewildered and shocked expression.
Sirius shakes his head slightly. "I'm fine," he breathes, looking anything but. "Just need to lie down for a bit," he mumbles, and moves sideways to collapse on the sofa with a small groan.
"Sirius?" I ask hastily, scrambling up and kneeling on the floor, next to his head. "Are you really okay?" I ask, my eyes moving over his features. "Should we go to St Mungo's –"
"I'm fine, Harry," Sirius grunts, forcefully, keeping his eyes closed. "Just let me rest for a bit, then I'll be right as rain, promise," He mutters, and I share a deeply concerned look with Hermione.
Hermione casts the diagnostic charms again, and gives me a small frown. "They do look better," she says quietly, her eyes flickering to Sirius's face. "I think we should let him rest for a bit…and monitor his vitals."
She stands up and takes a couple of steps towards the fireplace, glancing at me, giving me a sharp look.
"What is it?" I ask, as soon as I've walked up to her. I look back at my godfather, who looks worse for wear, but somehow, he manages to appear peaceful as he sleeps.
Hermione gapes at me. "What is it?" She hisses, throwing a meaningful look at Sirius, "What is it?!" She repeats, looking stunned. "How the hell is he alive, Harry?!" She whispers furiously, her eyes moving up and down my face.
I give her an incredulous look. "What do you mean? I showed you the stone yesterday, didn't I?" I whisper, feeling irritated. "I basically told you I'd go to him!"
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yes, Harry, you did," she whispers, exasperated. "I thought you were going to – to see him! Talk to him! But…not bring him back!"
I frown at her. "Are you disappointed? That he's back? That I managed to bring him back?" I ask heatedly.
"Of course not!" Hermione hisses. "I'm just –" She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, before levelling me with a serious look. "I didn't even think it would be possible, and –" her voice trails off, and she gives me a suspicious look. "…Did you…did you know you'd succeed? That you could bring him back?"
I chew the inside of my cheek, and give her a sheepish look.
"Harry!" Hermione whispers, her eyes widened in shock and realisation. "You…you knew!"
I let out a weary sigh. "Yeah. I had a good suspicion that I could."
Hermione gawks at me in disbelief. "But – but…how?" She asks, watching me closely. "How is he alive?"
I watch Sirius, and the grey-white vapor hovering over his frame. "It's a long story," I mutter, after a short silence. "Regulus has seen him, in his dreams…that have not been actual dreams," I add, giving Hermione a glance. "Then there's the tapestry…"
"What about it?" Hermione asks hastily.
I turn to look at her. "Sirius's death date is not visible."
Hermione gasps. "But…but why?" She asks, her voice tight. "Why didn't you tell us? Ron and me?"
I watch her features carefully, hoping she won't be offended. "Would you have believed me? Or us?"
Hermione looks hurt.
"Hermione," I mutter, giving her an apologetic look.
Hermione clears her throat and moves her focus on Sirius. "It's fine, Harry," She says with a slightly higher voice. "What…what is important, is that Sirius is here, alive." She says shakily, still not looking at me.
"Does Regulus know? What you planned to do in the Ministry?" Hermione asks after a tense silence.
She finally looks at me, and it is clear that me not including her in the matter of Sirius's circumstances is still bothering her, but she tries at least to think past that.
"No, he doesn't," I mutter, wondering how Regulus will react.
It's been weeks, months even, when we've spoken about Sirius the last time. Regulus has been somewhat…tense during the past month. Ever since the Prophet announced that he is alive, Regulus's contribution to the war has been much speculated in various issues. That, and the fact that every time one of us leaves Grimmauld Place, there's always a picture of it in the next day's paper. Because of that, and the pressure from the Wizengamot, Regulus has been spending long days, and sometimes even nights at Hogwarts, where he, and several other volunteers have been working on rebuilding the school and its grounds.
Hermione nods, and looks at Sirius. "Sirius seems to be doing rather…well. At least physically," she says mutedly. "You saw the diagnostic charms; there wasn't anything alarming," she adds, but then chews the inside of her cheek, glancing at me undecidedly.
I nod quickly. "Yeah, I know. What is it, then?" I ask, trying to decipher her expression. "Why do you have that look on you?"
Hermione presses her lips together, before she speaks. "He's probably not that well…mentally," she says quietly. "He was there, inside the Veil, for a long time, and…we don't really know what has it done to him."
She gives me a serious look. "Sirius needs to see a Healer, Harry. Just to make sure he's being treated correctly."
I swallow hard, knowing that she's right. "Yeah, I know…he'll go tomorrow, okay?"
Hermione nods somewhat reluctantly, her eyes at Sirius, and over the pale grey puffs of smoke that are still left and visible. "He needs to be monitored throughout the night," she says, gazing at him in wonder, and then turns to look at me, a small smile on her lips. "I still can't believe he's back."
There's a long silence, during which Hermione and I take our seats next to Sirius; Hermione in the armchair close to the sofa, and me next to Sirius's feet, on the sofa.
"Where's Ron?" I ask, knowing that Regulus will soon return from Hogwarts, where he left to this morning, to work on rebuilding with the many other volunteers. However, Ron was still here before I left to see Kingsley.
Hermione smiles tightly. "He's with Ginny. Bill's staying with Mrs. Weasley at Mungo's, Charlie had to go back to Romania for a couple of days, and Percy's at Hogwarts."
I let out a defeated sigh, feeling anguished. Mrs. Weasley is still at Mungo's, put into a magical coma until her body heals from the damage Bellatrix did to her. I feel rage storming inside me, as I think about her, and thank Merlin that Regulus was able to finish her off.
The Healers think Mrs. Weasley ought to heal completely, but that it will take time. In the meantime, her children will have to live their daily lives and mourn for the loss of their father, as well as hold themselves together without their mother's help.
A moment later, I feel the wards ripple, knowing that someone has Apparated outside Grimmauld Place front door.
Regulus is home.
Both Hermione and I stiffen in our seats, as we hear the soft footsteps on the stairs, and then – of those said steps hesitating outside the drawing room, before the door opens. With the sofa back against the door, Regulus sees only Hermione and me.
"Hello, Regulus," Hermione says brightly, springing up from her armchair. "Um," she says, looking at me with a hesitant expression. "Can I go tell Ron?"
I think quickly, and then nod at her. "Yeah, but no one else than him and Ginny…yet, okay?"
"Of course."
She leaves hastily, excitement and bewilderment still on her features, and I realise, that Regulus is still standing next to the doorway, watching me with a contemplative look, murmuring his goodbyes to Hermione. As soon as Hermione has left the room, and the door has shut with a light click, Regulus lifts his brows at me.
"Tell about what?" He asks steadily, walking slowly towards me.
I clear my throat, and then, Regulus has circled the sofa, and sees – well – he sees both Sirius and me. "Well…this." I croak, unhelpfully.
Regulus stands rigidly in place, completely stunned. He stares at his brother, in shock, utterly speechless, his throat bobbing as he swallows convulsively.
"S-Sirius?" He whispers mutedly, and Sirius actually stirs in his sleep.
"…Reggie…?" Sirius mumbles, his eyes still closed.
Regulus breathes out roughly, his body shaking, and then, he collapses to his knees, right in front of Sirius. He takes Sirius's hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Sirius…" He repeats, his voice shaking, his eyes intently on Sirius, a stricken expression taking over his features.
There's a small grin on Sirius's lips. "…Told you 'm not leavin' you, brother…"
Regulus lets out a huff of breath, a mix of relief and exasperation, before leaning his forehead against Sirius's chest.
"Thank fuck." Regulus rasps, before letting out a muffled sob.
I grin at the pair of them, feeling overwhelmed by joy and excitement. Finally, after months and months, Regulus has his brother back. And I have my godfather back. Sirius even looks a bit better now, with a hint of colour on his cheeks, and a small smile on his lips. I feel…light. Like finally, there's nothing to be fixed anymore, like everything I desperately wanted, has been given to me. Like all that should be, is.
Watching at the two brothers, reunited at last, knowing what they mean to each other, and knowing what this moment means to both of them, I feel overcome by love and happiness.
And then, I realise, that…perhaps they wish to be by themselves. That perhaps I should give this moment to them, and them only. Feeling slightly left outside, I remind myself that we will have time to talk, that I still have both wizards in my life, and even though it feels like everything have and will change – some things will be the same.
I stand up quietly, but before I can take a step towards the door, Sirius opens his eyes and looks at me.
"Don't go," he says with a hoarse voice, holding out his hand – the one not squeezing Regulus's – and giving me a tired, but warm look. "Want my family here."
Grimmauld Place, January 21st 1998
It's snowing. It's dark, and cold, but I feel calm.
"Bloody hell!" Potter gasps, stumbling on his steps as he slips to the terrace.
I give him a mildly inquiring look, as Potter sighs, closing the door behind him.
"Didn't know you were here," he mutters, watching me closely, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Sirius, Hermione, Ron and Ginny are at the kitchen, owling to Remus..."
I nod slowly, wondering how Lupin will react. Even I was completely taken by surprise by Sirius's presence, and I still knew my brother was alive the whole time. At least I hoped... How Potter had even managed to do what he did, without saying a word, without making any of us suspicious, I do not know.
I wish I knew what Potter is thinking nowadays, but it seems that he has finally mastered the ability to close his mind, and embraced the impassive expression.
"How did it go?" I ask, inquiring about his day, my eyes travelling over his features.
Potter left to the Ministry early in the morning, only to return late in the afternoon, some time after my brother and I returned back from St Mungo's, where we spent our day watching as numerous diagnostic charms were cast upon Sirius, while he was expected to answer to an endless list of questions. At least my brother seems to be feeling a bit better than he was yesterday, and on the road back to his old self – if flirting with his healer, or making jokes about his time in the Veil are anything to indicate such a thing.
However, I wonder what held Potter up in the Ministry, and whether he was given a position there.
Potter grunts, taking a couple of steps towards me, before slumping down to the bench next to me, facing the garden. "I suppose it was okay," he mutters, staring ahead, a furrow drawing itself between his eyes.
"We ought to call you Auror Potter, from now on, then?"
Potter's mouth twists in a mild smile, before he sobers. He lets out a deep sigh. "Auror Trainee."
I let out a small huff, not actually surprised by the news. "How dare they?" I say with a low voice, giving Potter a teasing smirk.
It was expected that the Ministry would not outright hand him an Auror position – but, it is likely they have shortened his program somewhat.
Potter gives me a half-smile. I watch him closely.
"You seem…not to be bursting from excitement, for some reason." I point out. "Was this not what you hoped for?"
Potter sighs. "…It was. But now, I'm not so sure," he says quietly, watching me hesitantly. "It's…well, the Ministry," He says with a small grimace. "…What if…what if I'm only in the program because they want to use me as the face of reparations – to be their saviour?" he continues bitterly. "That is what today was about. Speaking in front of the press, about unity, about the Ministry, about me being proud to be one of them."
We stay silent for a moment, and I study his features, contemplating his words.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Potter," I mutter eventually, as Potter looks away, his mouth pursing in a rigid line. "You can go back to school. Or, you can decide not to."
Potter hums under his breath, before fixing me a curious look. "What about you?"
What about me? I have no plans, nothing. I hadn't presumed I would survive the first war, let alone the second. But here I am, still young, albeit several years after my graduation. What should I do?
"Perhaps, I will do nothing, and merely exist in this fine house of yours," I tell Potter simply, and Potter snorts.
"Sod off." He grumbles, shaking his head, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.
"Sirius is looking better, after…well, what went on last night," Potter says after a short silence, giving me a worried look.
Ah, yes. The events from last night. When my brother woke up screaming like he had been tortured, and then, as I went to his room, he proceeded to choke me out. Luckily, or perhaps, unluckily, Potter had emerged soon after, only to witness my brother weeping over my still body.
I had been revived moments later, not overly excited to discuss the events. A fact that still remains. I gathered that Sirius must have been dreaming while he attacked me, and I truly do not blame him for what happened. Not after what my brother has been through, with all those hopeless years in Azkaban, and then, inside the Veil; not dead but not alive either, wasting away.
"Reg…?"
I shake my head slightly, looking away. "He'll be fine." I say, almost inaudibly, to the darkness. "I'll make sure of it."
"Can I…can I do something?" Potter asks cautiously.
I turn to look at Potter, somewhat amazed by him; the boy in his muggle clothes, his wild hair, slightly hunched posture, his brilliant green eyes. "You brought him back," I say heavily, glancing at the space between our fingertips on the bench, before reaching out and taking his hand into mine. "That's more than enough, Harry," I murmur, moving my gaze up to meet his eyes. "Thank you."
Potter gazes at me, and the look in his eyes is intense, but…affectionate…and loving.
Something warm floods in my chest, as I think of him, of his expression, of what he might be feeling. And before I know it, I'm leaning towards him, leaning, and desperately wanting to be close to him, to hold him, to close the distance between our lips, to taste him, to desire him, to relish him, to love him.
Our lips ghosting against each other, our breaths mingling, Potter whispers, "Too bad we can't sleep in the same bed anymore," making me groan and press my lips against his, trying to not picture it – of Potter sleeping in my bed – and all the moments we have wasted until now.
Suddenly, the door opens, and Potter and I jump away from each other, before my brother steps outside, watching us with a mild surprise.
Because now, my brother is back, being none the wiser what his godson and his brother have been up to, while he has been suffering, waiting at the gates of death to be saved. Needless to say, my brother would not pass it with a shrug.
No. He would in fact strangle me.
"Everything okay?" Sirius asks, his worried grey eyes – so much like his brother's – sweep past me, before he sits next to me on the bench with a small sigh. Exactly on the same spot where Regulus sat mere moments ago.
I give my godfather a small grin and a firm nod. "Yeah. Everything's fine."
Sirius smiles warmly, throwing an arm over my shoulders. "You don't know how good it is to be back…" He mutters, gazing into the darkness, his expression sobering.
I watch him, watch his features, knowing that those said features were once very different, very handsome. I wonder, what Sirius would've looked like, if his life had been different…if he had never met my father. Would there have been a permanent emptiness, deep in his eyes, or those hard lines of worry and torment edged all over his features? Would his eyes have been shining with glee, instead of only a fragment of what I know they once were? Would he have been full of life, carefree and happy?
I feel anguished by the thought of him suffering so many years of his life. I feel helpless, I feel sick by the thought of him wasting away in a cell, surrounded by Dementors, for twelve years – only to escape to a life of a fugitive, and then…something even worse than Azkaban.
"Don't, Harry," Sirius says softly, pulling me closer, seeming to know exactly what I'm thinking. "I'm here, now. I'm not going away anymore."
There's a lump in my throat, and I try to swallow past it, my voice thick as I speak. "I'm so fucking happy I have you back, Sirius," I whisper, blinking hard, and Sirius snorts.
"…And clearly, you and Reggie both are in a desperate need of an adult to show you how to behave," He quips, squeezing me.
I smirk. "Oh yeah?" I say, huffing out a faint laugh. "Let me know when you find one…"
Sirius sniggers. "The cheek of you!" He says, with a mockingly shocked voice.
We stay outside for a while, and just…be in silence, both immersed in our thoughts. Eventually, we decide to return back inside – Hermione, Ron and Ginny had sent the owl to Remus, asking him to stop by, conveniently leaving out the small, minuscule thing of Sirius's return from their letter.
I chuckle inwardly as we walk upstairs to the drawing room, trying to picture the surprise on Lupin's face.
At the drawing room door, Sirius takes a calming breath, and winks at me, before opening the door.
Regulus and Remus are there, sitting opposite to each other, each in an armchair. I assume my friends have stayed in the kitchen.
Both men turn their heads towards the door, as Sirius steps inside, a wide smile on his face.
Remus gapes at Sirius, as if he's seen a ghost.
"…P-Pads…? Remus breathes in shock, stumbling up from his chair.
Sirius bites his lip, grinning at his best friend. "The one and only, Moony!" He says, opening his arms wide.
Remus stares at Sirius for a second, and then lets out a desperate voice, something between a gasp and a sob. "Sirius!" He wheezes, and as Remus runs to his friend, more or less weeping in joy and amazement, Sirius meets him halfway, embracing him in a tight hug.
I smile at the two grown-up men, clinging to each other, both shaking, both laughing, both crying...
I feel my chest ache for Lupin, who, between sobs of anguish, tells his best friend that his wife – his love of life – is dead, telling without hope in his voice, that he's left alone with a son and a memory of her.
And Sirius is taken aback, quite stricken, really, but he holds his friend tighter, telling him that he's not alone anymore, that he will be there for him, that all of us will be there for him and his son.
After a while, Sirius and Remus move back to the seating area, and I watch, for a moment, smiling again, as Remus proceeds to show a picture of his son, Edward. Sirius's eyes are glinting with excitement and joy again, like they were when he was younger. Even Regulus looks to be at ease, enjoying the company.
Quietly, I step away from the doorframe and move back to the kitchen, deciding to let Sirius, Regulus and Remus to catch up.
I push the kitchen door open, finding Ron, Ginny and Hermione there, sitting in the dimly lit room, at the long, worn out table.
"Hey, guys," I mutter, slumping next to Ginny, opposite to Hermione and Ron.
Hermione smiles widely at me. "Well?" She asks, excitedly, pushing a bottle of Butterbeer towards me.
I huff lightly, a smile spreading to my lips as I take the drink from her. "Everything's like it should be."
Ginny smirks at me. "Except the matter that you and Regulus haven't told Sirius yet," she says simply, exactly the same time as I draw a swig from the Butterbeer, and naturally end up spluttering and coughing, while warmth spreads on my cheeks.
I put the bottle on the table and stare at her in disbelief, before turning to give Ron and Hermione an accusing look.
"Relax, Harry," Ginny says, an eyeroll in her voice. "I figured it out a while ago…" She says with a shrug, sipping her own Butterbeer. "It's kinda hot, actually…" She says, squinting at me, as if assessing me.
The red colour on my skin deepens. "T-Thanks. I guess," I croak, quickly looking away, busying myself with the bottle between my fingers.
Ron gives his sister an incredulous look, before shaking his head at me, wordlessly saying 'girls'.
"Let's not…um. Mention it to anyone. Yet." I say, glancing nervously at Ginny.
Ginny shrugs. "Don't look at me, I'm not the one who's unable to keep secrets in our family," she says, giving an arched brow at Ron. "I mean, if I hadn't known already, I'd definitely let you blame Ron now…"
"Oi!" Ron says, narrowing his eyes at Ginny. "If I were you, I'd be more careful what I said and when – especially if you want me to be nice to Neville – "
Hermione actually rolls her eyes, letting out a frustrated groan.
"Neville?" I ask, bewildered.
Ron growls something under his breath.
Hermione ignores Ron, and gives me a slightly demeaning look, as if asking, where the hell I've been for the last five years. "Neville and Ginny are dating." She says with a smile, before turning to look at Ron. "And you've always been nice to him, Ronald, and will continue to do so, regardless if he dates your sister."
Ginny stifles a laugh, winking at me, as Ron looks back at Hermione, his lips pursed into a rigid line…but, a somewhat sheepish look in his eyes.
"How's your mum?" I ask from Ron and Ginny, hoping that she's better, that she will soon return back to the Burrow, which is too silent without Mrs. Weasley there, ordering everyone about.
Ginny's expression is slightly strained. "She's…better, I suppose. They're talking about laying off the magically induced coma, to see if she's ready to wake up yet…" She says, looking anxious. "I'm going there, tomorrow. Bill's barely been home during the past week – before Charlie left, they kind of…took turns," she says with a half-shrug.
"What about Percy?" I ask, tentatively, not really knowing what is the situation with him and the rest of his siblings.
Ron looks somewhat displeased. "He's okay, I suppose…blaming himself for what happened to…to…"
He doesn't finish, but we all know what was left unsaid. Mr. Weasley.
"Percy's been home a couple of times – I suppose every time the Headmistress has ordered him to take a break," Ginny says wryly. "He'll be at Mungo's tomorrow, though."
I nod at her. "Wanna stay the night? I can ask Kreacher to make you a room," I tell her, knowing that even if she could just floo here in the morning and travel to Mungo's, perhaps it couldn't hurt to be with friends and family, especially before what they will have to go through tomorrow with Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny gives me a grateful smile. "I'd love to."
"Ginny can stay with me," Hermione says ignoring Ron's gasp of protest.
I'm secretly glad, since, well, if I can't spend the night next to someone, why would the others be allowed to?
Ginny grins at Hermione. "I see a slumber party happening…" she says, and then her eyes widen slightly in excitement. "We should have some wine!"
Hermione purses her lips at Ginny, while Ron splutters. "You're not even of age yet, Gin!"
Ginny sniggers at her brother. "What of it?"
The girls don't end up having a wine-induced slumber party – and instead, we spend the rest of the night in the kitchen, eating snacks and talking, about everything but not the war, until it is nearly midnight.
As we drag ourselves upstairs, we bump into Regulus on the first floor.
"Night," Ron mutters to Regulus, Hermione and Ginny, continuing his way upstairs, to the second-floor bedroom, where we both have stayed before, and where I spent the last night alone.
Regulus nods at Ron, and then at Hermione and Ginny – the latter of whom gives me an amused and knowing look before shutting the door behind her.
"Going to bed?" Regulus asks quietly, staying within a polite distance, even though his eyes sweep over me somewhat longingly.
"Yeah." I glance at the drawing room, which door is slightly ajar. Sirius and Lupin are visible, still at the seating area, deep in conversation. "You?" I ask, and watch him carefully.
"Yes." Regulus says, and then clears his throat, glancing at the stairs. "After you," he says, inclining his head.
I give an awkward, jerky nod, before moving towards the stairs. We walk in silence, Regulus right behind me, until we reach the second floor. I stop next to the bedroom door.
"So."
"Yes."
"Um."
Regulus's brows twitch, a dark look in his eyes, and then, time slows down as he takes a step towards me, places a hand against the line of my jaw, and leans in for a soft, lingering kiss.
For a moment, I can only appreciate the pliable lips against mine, the faint press, the way he makes my lips tingle, before I feel the urge to take more, to feel more, to make this longer.
It's over too soon, before it properly started, and then I'm watching him, walking away from me, taking the stairs up towards his room as I'm left in the hallway, out of breath and hoping for more.
Dorset, March 5th 1998
Thursday afternoons are typically spent at my cousin's cottage by having tea and taking occasional strolls over the vast garden surrounding the house, if the weather permits so.
Not long after my brother came back, Lupin agreed to stay with Andromeda, so that my cousin could help him raise his son. The werewolf was offered a position of a Quill Control & Rune Translation clerk in the in the Minister for Magic Support Staff, which he eventually accepted, after Andromeda insisted, more than once, that she would be delighted to take care of Edward during his working hours. There was also my brother, who might've threatened to personally kick Lupin's arse to the Ministry, if he heard his friend speak one more time about putting a burden on anyone.
I walk with Lupin, in silence, and watch my brother and my cousin, who pushes forward a stroller some distance away. Occasionally, Sirius leans closer to see if Edward is still asleep. Occasionally, his hand hovers politely behind the small of Andromeda's back.
"Have you spoken with him, yet?" Lupin asks quietly, eyeing me from the corner of his eye.
I walk forward, staying silent for a moment. "No." I should, probably. I should tell my brother, what has happened between his godson and brother, should tell him that every night he doesn't stay at Grimmauld Place – which are not nearly as many nights as I'd hope – Potter spends the night in my room, tangled in my sheets.
Lupin lets out a contemplative sound, and then moves his focus on my brother and cousin.
I look at the werewolf's features for a moment. It is clear that everything that has happened to him lately; getting my brother back, starting a new job, having people around him to help him to live his life, have done a lot. Lupin looks younger and healthier I've seen him in a long time, reminding me about the young man I knew in my Hogwarts years.
My cousin told me, only some weeks ago, how unwell Lupin had been before and after the first full moon after the battle – after losing his wife. Lupin had been unable to bring himself to rise out of bed in the morning, not to even mention taking care of his son. And then, she told me, how different it had been the next month, when Sirius had been there the whole time, making sure to fulfil his promise. Making sure Lupin would never be alone anymore, in wolf-form and not.
"He might not take it as badly as you think," Lupin mutters, grimacing at the words, evidently aware how surreal and overly optimistic they sound.
We stay silent for the rest of our walk, until we return to the house.
"How are you enjoying your new, celebrity status, dear cousin?" Andromeda asks as she summons a tray with four cups of tea to the light-coloured sitting room, exchanging an amused look with Sirius, who sits next to me on the large sofa.
I'm beginning to think whether I should've taken Lupin's offer to give his son a bath– something he tried to ineffectively claim to be one of the tasks performed by one's godfather.
A subject I'm as taken aback as I am thrilled of. Being Edward's godfather, that is.
I give my cousin a blank look. "I'm afraid I do not follow."
Of course I know what she's meant by her comment. The fact doesn't escape me, as everywhere I go in the Wizarding Britain, somehow, everyone recognises me – everyone.
It began last month, after the Wizengamot hearing I attended, in which my name was cleared with the announcement regarding my actions during the past year or so; how they were a crucial part of winning the war against the Dark Lord. Naturally, such result would have not been decided, if several members of the Order, and the Minister himself had not been speaking on my behalf.
After the hearing became public, it seemed that everyone was discussing it – as well as my appearance and my existence in general – everywhere I went. It didn't really help that most times, I was, and still am, accompanied by the rest of the war heroes; Potter, Hermione and Ronald.
It was…manageable, for a handful of days, at least. Until the issue of the Witch Weekly was published, and with it, an article I had nothing to do with – except it was a ten-page story about my life, including several pictures, some from twenty years ago, and some from the past three months.
The reporters had me painted as a suffering war hero, desperately seeking acceptance, as well as someone significant, to help me heal and move on from the horrors the two wars have left in my heart and soul.
Or something like that.
Sirius snorts quietly next to me, shaking his head slightly.
My brother, who – after the announcement of his innocence had been issued by the Ministry – cowardly decided to remain in his Animagus form when stepping into any public wizarding area, outside of Grimmauld Place. He wasn't even required to attend to the Wizengamot session, and what was written of him afterwards, was not even close to what happened after my hearing.
Potter, on the other hand, is mentioned in every issue of every magazine and paper, along with occasional posts about Hermione and Ronald. Several photographers have irritably taken a habit of lurking along Potter's route to work, either making him late from his training, as he tries to take a detour to Whitehall, or causing him to grit his teeth the next morning, when his picture appears in the day's paper.
"I am quite comfortable visiting only the houses connected to Grimmauld Place, until my fame subsides," I tell my cousin, a hint of a sneer on my lips.
Andromeda looks slightly amused, even though her expression stays blank.
Naturally, there are only two houses that are connected to Grimmauld Place; Andromeda's cottage, and the Burrow.
I trace the handle of my cup with my fingertips, eyeing my cousin studiously. "Have you been in contact with your sister?" I ask airily, expecting her to say no, and merely trying to provoke her.
I doubt that the two sisters will ever be close, with or without a Dark Lord, as they never were.
Andromeda gives me a scrutinising look. "Have you?" She asks, her voice low. "I heard rumours what she did to you."
Sirius's jaw tightens next to me. I lift my brows slightly in acknowledgement. "She apologised."
My brother scoffs loudly, but doesn't say anything. The topic has been thoroughly discussed already. Narcissa is currently in Azkaban, serving her sentence. Considering what she did during the final battle for our benefit, and the fact that I am in one piece, I asked my brother to not seek revenge on my behalf, and leave the matter be.
Andromeda eyes me closely for a moment, before she clears her throat. "As a matter of fact, my sister has contacted me recently," she says, her blank look moving between my brother and me.
"Oh?" Sirius asks, curiously. "What'd she want?"
Andromeda arches a brow at him. "That shall remain between me and her," she says tightly, and then continues, her eyes moving to meet mine. "She did leave a note to Regulus, however."
I lift my brows in question, as my brother gives me an incredulous look.
"I haven't read it." Andromeda says indifferently.
I watch her closely, and it is apparent the reason for that is not due the lack of effort. Still, I am quite certain she has merely tried to search it for harmful magic.
"Why would she write to you here?" My brother asks sharply from me, his eyes flashing with infuriation. "Why not Grimmauld Place?"
Why indeed? Perhaps, Narcissa knew how my brother would react. I give Sirius a mild shrug, as Andromeda proceeds to explain that the note in question remains in her study, which I am allowed to use for the purpose of reading it.
I make my excuses, quite happy to escape my brother's accusing stare, and take the stairs up to the first floor, and enter the room to the right – Andromeda's study.
The room is not as large as the one at Grimmauld Place, but a bit more inviting; there's a calming view to the garden, with dark grey, heavy curtains framing the large windows and a thick, white rug on the floor. I make my way to the small writing desk, where nothing but a single letter is placed upon, with my initials on top of it.
R.A.B.
I sit down in the armchair behind the desk, and bring my hand up, moving it slowly across the air, over the parchment.
There's magic – some sort of spell, protecting the letter. I frown at the letter, wondering why would Narcissa send me a letter in the first place, and put the effort of protecting it with magic. I wonder if she has done it while in Azkaban, which is not impossible, but improbable.
A moment later, I recognise the spell, and can finally open the letter.
It's not what I expected. I read the parchment, twice, my brows rising slightly.
I can almost hear it; my brother's laughter, and Andromeda's. I remember it clearly; a warm, summer day, at the Black cottage in Truro, Cornwall. My brother and Andromeda, sneaking behind our backs, sniggering, both acting like children, even though my cousin was going to start her sixth year the following September, while Sirius would be stepping into the Hogwarts Express for the first time.
I remember Narcissa, always scowling at them, disapproving their amusements, telling me how her sister was to behave herself, as she was soon to be betrothed to someone. Always leaving it open, even though we both knew our parents had been discussing it; marrying off Sirius and Andromeda. Perhaps Narcissa knew it wasn't going to happen. Perhaps she knew who had attracted her sister's attention.
I remember long walks in the orchards, calm days spent at the cottage. I remember feeling…contented.
And I remember feeling safe. Which is why, my cousin found me there, more or less unconscious, many years later, the day after I took my mark.
Kreacher had been there as well, taking care of me. It had been possibly the worst experience of my life, so far. I had murdered an innocent, tortured many, and finally, I had been branded with the most appalling mark. And taking it, was unbearable. It was torture, worse than the Cruciatus Curse. I was weakened, and sought a place where I could be weak, where I could break down. Not Grimmauld Place, certainly not in front of my parents.
No, it had to be someplace I could be in peace, and where no one would think to look for me.
Narcissa did. She visited me, the next morning. Asking if I regretted it. Naturally, I told her no. She left soon afterwards, and it was never discussed.
Except now, it seems. She's given me the cottage, which she had inherited after I killed her sister.
I stare at the letter, for a long while, reading the words of apology, of sincerity, before folding the parchment and slipping it to the pocket of my robes.
I'm about to return back to the sitting room, but find Lupin, holding Edward, at the doorway. I glance inside the room, where my brother and my cousin are still situated, unaware that there is an audience.
My cousin is weeping silently, while my brother holds her, patting her on her back.
Lupin turns around, gives me a grim look, and then inclines his head towards one of the rooms; the guest bedroom on the ground floor. I follow him quietly into the room, and see that it has been enlarged into a convenient-sized suite, in order to inhabit Lupin and his son.
I watch, as Lupin puts Edward down to his crib, pushing his curled, blue hair away from his brow. I watch, transfixed, as he leans down to kiss his son's forehead, before tucking him in bed.
"I haven't really seen her like that, before. Not even…not even when the news about Ted came," Lupin murmurs, leaning against the crib, his now reddened eyes at Edward, blinking hard.
I'm not surprised. My cousin and I learned at a very young age to keep our feelings to ourselves, as showing them to the others, could be seen as a weakness in a person's character – at least, according to our parents. At the same time, I'm equally unsurprised that my cousin has let herself fall apart only in my brother's company. Sirius never acted the way I did, or the way that was expected – he always defied our parents' beliefs. Furthermore, Andromeda and Sirius were once very close, sharing many thoughts and characteristics, which were quite different from the rest of the family.
Lupin takes in a deep breath, and speaks after a moment. "It's good to have him back," he says quietly. "He's done so much, been there for us, that I can't even think how we survived without him…" Lupin mutters, turning to look at me.
"We didn't." I say simply. Not really. From the moment I lost my brother, part of me became empty. And perhaps I was able to fill it with the quest to find the Horcruxes, or with the mission to destroy the Dark Lord, but as soon as he was gone, as soon as the final battle ended, I felt it; the emptiness, more vividly I had ever felt before.
And then, Potter brought him back to me…and I became whole again.
"Yeah," Lupin murmurs, a rueful smile on his lips. "Still, sometimes I wonder, why…" He says, voice trailing off. The man grimaces, and shakes his head slightly.
I give him a searching look, seeing through the torment and anguish, the longing and loneliness. "…Why Sirius and not Dora?" I ask quietly, and Lupin's jaw tightens, as he looks away.
"Yes." He whispers, looking regretful.
After a short silence, the door opens. We both turn to look at my brother at the doorway.
Sirius's eyes move between Lupin, me, and the crib. "What're you two moping around in here?" Sirius asks quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Lupin gives him a tired smile and walks up to him. "Nothing, Padfood," he says lightly, patting my brother on his shoulder before leaving the room.