Seven: Tossing and Turning

(non: minds)

There are several levels of comprehension after a traumatic incident. Much like grief, the first is commonly denial. Denial that anything has happened; that anything at all has changed - because change is so daunting, such a hard concept to grasp, for so many. The next, of course, is panic. Once the realisation of non-levity has set in, the comfort leaves, and suddenly there is no air to breathe. Accordingly, one faces a crossroads after panic has set in: fight or flight. Some say fight, some say flight. Some resume panic, and stay. Lastly, of course, is defiance. By defying one must accept.

For Lily Evans, acceptance came rather easily. There was nothing she could change about what had happened, she reasoned, staring at the dark ceiling above her, upon which shadows played, and listening to the sound of Mary and Dora's snoring. Diagon Alley had exploded, people had died, they'd been injured. Businesses had been put out, no one had been properly detained, and, worst of all, Marlene was gone.

That had been the worst thing - the hardest to even comprehend. It occurred to Lily that possibly she still hadn't yet; there had been so many awful things happening...

The very fact that she could lay here, safe in her bed, was a miracle. That Mary was beside her was a miracle. That Dora had escaped unscathed.

Lily worried not only for Marlene (worried was a rather mild way of putting it, the sixteen year old thought), but for Sirius Black. They were not particularly close, no, but he was in her year and house, and several times they had interacted with one another. She had found, to her immense gratitude, that he was not as bad as Potter (which was, she assumed, the reason he was the ring leader of their little throng).

She had been informed by an auror before departing, via Floo, that Black would be fine. The casualties had come to sixteen, including two aurors, and fourteen civilians. Black had not, nor had any of his mates, been part of that number.

Lily was glad. Though she didn't care for Potter, she wouldn't have wanted him dead. And Remus was her friend. It hurt that anyone had died. Why did death have to be so... so terribly final?

Suddenly there were tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Lily grit her teeth to keep from sobbing and turned on her side, away from the other two girls, to hide her tears. She took shaky breaths to stay herself, grasping at the sheets for some form of comfort.

"Lily?" Mary's voice was low and concerned. "Are you alright?"

"'M fine," she whispered back, thinking of the lives that had ended (and of her mother, though she would not admit that, for it was too selfish). "Go back to b-bed, Mary."

There was a shuffling, and Lily rather foolishly assumed that Mary had lain back down, so she let her tears form and fall into her pillow. They were cold, but her face was hot. Eyes closed, she could only feel when Mary's hand clasped her own.

"I wasn't asleep, anyway; just pretending," whispered Mary, softly. Lily saw her, then; Brown hair frazzled from the friction and humidity, and face scrubbed clean of cosmetics, revealing pale, slightly reddened skin. "It's alright, Lily."

"No, its not," Lily whispered back, allowing herself that one moment of self-pity. Too many things were happening at once, and her shock was too great, her grief too clouding, to think rationally. Though I put on a right good show for Malfoy, today, didn't I? Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?"We'll be okay. So will Marlene. There are aurors on the case-"

"But it's my fault," Lily interrupted, horrified and guilty. "I should have been there, with you, whilst it was happening..."

Mary's gaze hardened as it so rarely did. "Do you doubt my capability?" Inquired she, scowling. "Do you think that you could have done something - something more than I could have? She threw herself at that death eater, Lily. She did it, and we're going to get her back. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine."

Lily bit her lip and looked away, out the window, through which a half-moon glared luminously, flooding the room with a silver glow. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I should be a better friend," Lily countered, wiping away her slowly drying tears. She managed to sit up. "I should be doing something, not lying here, crying. She's probably... probably..."

Mary's eyes widened. "Don't think about that," she pleaded, sitting beside Lily, now, on the bed. "Please, Lily. It'll only make it worse, and then I-I won't be able to help you." Her voice wavered ever-so-slightly. She drew in a sharp breath.

Lily clasped Mary's cool, smooth hands in her own. "My mum is dead," she told her.

"I know," Mary replied, chin trembling. "I'm so, so sorry."

"She was a really great mum," Lily went on. "Dad loved her. She loved Petunia... Even me, no matter how weird everyone else thought I was. And... I exist... She doesn't though, Mary. She's gone, and she's never coming back."

"Neither will mine," whispered a tremulous voice. Lily and Mary both started, having forgotten Pandora was even there.

Lily wiped her eyes and opened her arms to the younger girl, who crawled into them. "I'm very sorry about your mum, Dora," she said.

"Yours too."


Regulus poured the dark, think liquid over the open burn wound on his calf. It stung, but he made no sound to indicate as such. Almost immediately after contact, the gash began to close and heal, and the blisters faded until there was only a large red patch. Handy stuff, unicorn tears. Regulus hated using it, but the consequences were not as dire as that of unicorn blood - tears were invaluable to the creature, and collecting them was even more harmless than plucking a hair.

"Done?" Inquired Grandfather, with a raised brow.

"I have a few more, but I don't want to risk it," Regulus told him, wiping the resulting tears from his eyes. He passed the bottle to his elder before a fit could commence. "How is Trix?"

"Bella is doing just fine," Grandfather told him. "Her wounds are healed, and, but for a tantrum, I think she will go smoothly through the night."

"She's angry with me for trying to stop her," Regulus assumed, and correctly given the nod he received. "I had to do it, though. No one else would have, and then where would we be?"

"Dead in the ground," Arcturus suggested, leaning on his cane as he sat upon the chaise across from his grandson. "And your mother would be weeping over the loss of her only 'suitable' son."

The corners of Regulus's mouth twitched, but Occlumecy kept the spasm from becoming an all-out grin. "You make a mockery of her."

"Oh, no, dear lad, Sirius does that." Grandfather ducked his head to hide his amusement.

"Do you fault me for taking action?"

Grandfather Arcturus drew in a deep breath. "Regulus, sit." Regulus was already seated, though he did not dare point that out. "There are... certain family matters we must discuss." They both leaned forward. "Are you under the impression that I favour your brother?"

Act the fool, Reg. "Well, he is still your heir, even though he's been cast out of the family tree..."

Arcturus told him what he already knew: "The tree is an abstract concept, Regulus. An heirloom. It is insignificant by way of determining who is part of what family. Even if your mother took out the bloody wall, it would not change the fact that Sirius is of Black blood, and in order to remove him from my family, she would have to drain him of every ounce of said blood that he so possesses, which, despite Bella's most obvious efforts, has not been done. And so he remains my heir, discounting your father, who is..."

"Mad?" Regulus suggested.

"Unsound of mind," Grandfather said, instead. "But more importantly - I do not favour any of my grandchildren. I love you all equally, misguided as some of you are. Sirius remains my heir for a multitude of reasons, aside from that of which I have already told you; he is the elder, his political views align with mine, for the most part, and lastly, because disinheriting him is virtually impossible without just cause."

"And shagging a mug- a mudblood isn't."

"Don't think I didn't notice that little slip up," Grandfather reprimanded. "But also, no, it is not. Sirius would have to not only commit murder but be charged guilty for it, or something worse which my mind will not fathom at this time. Do you have any questions?"

Regulars swallowed. "No."

"Well, then, I have one for you." Grandfather raised an eyebrow. "Do you intend, or want, to become a death eater, Regulus?"

At that, Regulus's stomach churned. He looked away from his grandfather, toward the unlit fireplace, and for the first time in his life, Regulus lied to Arcturus Black. "I do."

At that, Arcturus's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. His jawline hardened. "Then I suggest you get home, before supper gets cold. It's been a long day of... training."


James Potter ashed his cigarette and turned to Remus. "You're sure you're alright, Moony?"

"Aside from early-onset lunar symptoms, yes," replied his friend, from the red velvet chair upon which he sat and read. It was facing the bed which Sirius was currently slumbering in. A magic-induced sleep, of course, because without such be would be risking his life to save Marlene.

"I'm not," Peter whispered, from the window ledge. He was sat upon it with his head in hands. It was the first time he had spoken since he'd Floo-ed in, despite numerous attempts made by James and Remus to the contrary. "I should have done something, not run away. I was an idiot."

Remus closed his book on a finger and leaned over, putting a hand on Peter's back. "You were afraid," he consoled. "It was instinctive, and no one blames you."

Peter looked up at them through red-rimmed eyes. "But-"

"Peter," James said quietly, "it's alright."

At James's word, finality set in. Peter nodded, wiped his eyes, and resorted to waiting for Sirius to awaken. The mediwitch that Dad had hired for today and tomorrow had said that it would not be long (that, however, was not the reason for their presence there; James had been pacing at Sirius's bedside since he'd been placed there and would continue to do so until Sirius was well enough to tell him to bugger off).

"How is your mum fairing?" Remus asked - probably to give James something else to think about.

"Panicking, last I saw," James said, remembering. "I should go and talk to her."

"Yes, indeed," Moony replied, swiftly. "We'll yell if he wakes."

James nodded and slipped out, down the polished and dusted halls. His feet were silent upon the carpeted floors, but paintings and portraits filled the silence with cheery greetings and well-wishes. James might have exchanged words with them on any other day, when he had nothing better to do, but now there was purpose, and so he walked to his mother's apartments.

She was within, pacing the floor just as he had been doing. Mia Potter looked both anxious and composed at once, however she did it; the composure stemmed from her finely pressed blue satin robes and permanently regal face, and the anxiety from her fingers, which were in her mouth (for she was biting her nails), her worried and lined face, and slightly disheveled braided updo.

"James," she whispered, pulling him into a strong embrace. "I was going to fetch you, but then I thought you might want to be with Sirius, and-"

"It's fine, mum," he said, feeling supremely guilty for having made her wait here all of this time. "I should have come right after I got back, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, you're fine." She pulled back to study his face, pushing his hair from his eyes.

"I'm a git," he corrected.

She managed a small smile. "Only sometimes."

"How are you, then?"

His mother rolled her eyes. "'How am I?' he asks, as though he hasn't just been in a bloody explosion!" (She did that often; speak to the heavens in reference to her misfit son)

James raised an eyebrow to hide his amusement. "Why didn't you just come to see how I was?"

"I looked in on you and Sirius before, but you didn't notice, and I didn't want to disturb him. The mediwitch says he'll be fine, though. He's lost a lot of blood, but he'll last."

"Of course he will," James said, trying to pretend that he had not been worried out of his mind. "He's Sirius."

Her face became stony, then. "You need rest, love," she told him. "Get some sleep. I'll make some sandwiches for the boys-"

"But I have to wait for Sirius-"

"Dear, that boy is not going to so much as roll over in his sleep until I say so," his mother told him sternly, "now go upstairs to your room and take a damned nap, before I stun you."


When the sun rose, so did Lily.

Almost mechanically she detangled herself from Mary and Dora, and stumbled over to the window with the intent of shutting the curtains.

"Ginger?" Mary croaked, opening one eye. She lay on her stomach, with Dora snuggled into her side. The whole scene looked rather warm and inviting. Lily regretted leaving the solace of bed. "Want some breakfast?"

"It's only six-"

"It's fine," she replied, inching away from Dora without waking her. "You're up, I'm up. Might as well. 'Sides, I can never fall back to sleep once I'm up."

Lily nodded, conceding. "I'll get my dad up, then."

He did not have to go to the factory until eleven - this would be his first day back. Lily was immensely bitter that they had not given him longer than a week off, but the roof over her head relied on his income, and so she had not spoken her mind about the whole affair. It was wrong and cheap, but perhaps it would take her father's mind off of his grief.

She wouldn't be here to do that, soon enough, anyway.

Mary had put a pan on the stove and was preparing french toast by the time Lily emerged from her room, with a washed face and tied back hair. She set to work on tidying up the mess of the last few days (casserole dishes, napkins, beer bottles), trying to keep her thoughts off of Marlene.

There was a stack of toast that neither of them had touched when Frank arrived.

His hair was in several places and his eyes were wide when Lily admitted him. "Frank," she said, startled, "Frank, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Mum's floo-ing the Ministry... I woke up and-and Ally wasn't there, and so I searched and I was just about to go to her manor house, when... when..." he drew from his pocket a scrunched note, which he handed to Lily with shaking hands. "That came. By owl."


Sirius's eyes were dry when he managed to open them. The light stung, and so he closed them again, so as not to suffer. But then both pain and remembrance settled upon him. The memory of yesterday hurt so much more than anything he'd ever felt - the Cruciartis, his losses, every hex and insult...

"James," he croaked, mouth a desert. "Help."

There were soon hands. He could feel them touching him - pushing him into sitting position. Sirius swallowed and sensed that something about the atmosphere had dimmed. Indeed, the curtains around his bed had been closed, all except for the one on his left side, which oddly comforted him.

James was there, at his side, with an anxious face and a glass of water. Sirius needed help with that, too. Just the effort of drinking was exhausting.

"Are you in much pain?" James inquired.

Sirius, mouth now lubricated, was able to speak. "My skin feels stretched," he confessed. "And it stings. Everything is sore and stingy."

James nodded solemnly. "Healer Abbi said it would be like that," he told his best mate.

Sirius rubbed his temples. "Marlene...?"

"Still gone," said James. "Dad's got a team of people looking, another examining evidence, and another asking witnesses what they saw. And don't worry, you don't have to give a testimony; dad already took a copy of your memories whilst you were asleep."

Sirius frowned. "That's rather invasive."

"Well it's not like you wanked off in the bookshop toilet," James snapped.

Sirius gave him a look.

James rolled his eyes, mouth purposely downwards to hide the fact that he wanted to grin. "Dad just didn't want to tire you out talking. Thought it would be better."

"Well, thank him for me," Sirius said. "Even this is taking a lot." Not that it should. God, I feel so fucking weak.

James was on his feet in an instant. "I can leave," he said, "you can rest a little more, and then Remus and Pete'll visit, and-"

"James," Sirius interrupted. He patted the spot his mate had been occupying previously. With great hesitancy, James sat down again. "I feel like shite, but I still want to talk to you. Tell me what happened."

And so James did: they'd been eating (if you didn't remember, Pads), when a few death eaters had shown up (like he could have forgotten that). Demetors had emerged from the firey recesses of Morgana's arse, evidently, and wreaked a whole load of havoc. Two people had lost their souls, and were now residing in St. Mungo's. Then aurors had arrived to detain both opposing forces, but not before Marlene had thrown herself at a death eater in an attempt to stay him, a six or so more people had died, and Bella had blown the place up.

"It's mostly been repaired," James told him, of Diagon Alley. "There's a lot of damage, though, and about seven people died from it. More would have, if they'd not been evacuated."

"Did it spread?"

"Like hell," James said, and then paused, "pun unintended. Or intended. Whatever. The squad stopped it in three directions, but it ripped through the south side - Knockturn Alley - which has now gone to shit even with repairs."

Sirius swallowed, heart heavy. "Who died?"

"No one we know," James replied. "Mostly older wizards and witches - my parents knew a few of them. She was up the whole night in tears when the list was released."

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck, James," he whispered, utterly and completely horrified with the weight of this revelation. "This is bad. This is Diagon Alley. It's like, the central shopping place in London. And my stupid inbred cousin blew it up! Speaking of - how did she not die?! And how has she not been arrested?!"

"Well, as for the latter, when dad reviewed your memories, he said that she wasn't clear enough to properly identify. It's being taken in anyway, but the Wizengamot favours your family and we all know that."

"If she wasn't clear enough to identify, then how could I identify her?"

"Voice recognition? Anyway, your memory was all fucked up from the blast, so nothing was clear."

"And how did she survive, then?" Sirius challenged.

"Dragon-hide cloak," James replied briskly, refilling Sirius's water glass. "Aurors have them. So do death eaters apparently."

"Well, fuck that."

"Yeah." James ran a hand through his hair. "You really should rest some more. I'll come back in a bit with Tizzy, and she'll help you shower."

"I've always dreamed of having your house elf see my bits, Prongs," Sirius said dryly.

"Bugger off, Padfoot."


The manor was dark. Regulus threw down his hood as he entered, and then quickly transfigured his sooty cloak and leathers into pureblood finery. Mother would have no less. Dignity over comfort, Regulus. Always.

He smoothed his hair into a coif as well, just to make sure that she would not suspect. As he walked deeper into the premises, the lights turned on, and then off as he passed. Cissy's little trick for hide-and-go-seek which had never been reversed.

The light was on within the kitchens. Kreacher and Zuki would be in there, preparing dessert. Regulus would not partake. After today's failure, he did not deserve it. Am I honestly contemplating whether or not I deserve dessert?! Fuck that.

"Chocolate cake, Zuki, and make it quick," he called out to the noise in the back. Regulus removed his tailcoat and sat upon the kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth. The cake popped up next to him, and so he ate it, solemnly, as the two elves rushed back and forth whilst screaming at one another.

"Good stuff," he told the female elf as she zoomed past.

"Thank you, Master Regulus," she called madly, ears flopping as she ran. Regulus grinned at the sight.

"You're home," said a voice.

It was, of course, Walburga. She stood in the doorway, dressed in furs - but her fine clothing was unmatched by her natural beauty. Regulus concluded each nightly prayer with the plead that one day she become fat and ugly and miserable in old age. He hoped that the gods would answer.

As of now, she looked every inch a Black; long dark hair, which was spellbound to curl, and ominous grey eyes which stood out prominently against flawless pale skin, which would not sag or wrinkle until past the age of one-hundred or so (if that), thanks to her unnaturally pure blood.

The kitchen had stilled. The elves stared, plates and rags in hand. "I am," Regulus said. Way to state the obvious, you old hag.

"You are spoiling your dinner."

"I didn't have much of an appetite," he lied swiftly. "Thought I'd missed it anyway."

She pursed her lips. "And so you sit down here, among the slaves - you deign to breathe the air that they breathe?"

Regulus knew what was coming. It took every fibre of his willpower to hold back his sarcasm, to reign in the eyeroll. "Yes."

Mother sniffed. "Well then, you may sleep here tonight, and perhaps by morning you will have learned your lesson."

Regulus kept his face emotionless as she pulled out her wand and locked the door closed on her way out. Dinner would not be served tonight. He waited a good five minutes before turning to Kreacher. "Apparate me to my room, will you, mate?"

Being the favourite child only meant you were tortured in different ways.


Bellatrix stared at her wall in the hopes that it would melt away.

It just wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to be grounded; it had been Reg who'd screwed up, not her! Reg - sweet but silly Reg. This was his fault. Suddenly he wasn't so appealing, anymore. He'd almost been her first kiss and everything (definitely he'd been her first love), and now he'd given her a broken heart.

She was going to make him pay.


Lily stared at the letter in her hands. Her heart was pounding in her ears at such a high volume she thought she would suffocate in it. The words blurred together. She realised that there were tears in her eyes. Hastily and determinedly, she wiped them away and looked up at the boy before her. "Oh, Frank..."


AN: Early chapter, because it's done and so why not! I really love writing this story, and reviews are great encouragement because they tell me that the people reading actually care enough about this story (which I put a lot of time into... *stares at you in the hope that you will feel some measure of guilt*). I'm worried about the title of the story. Since its in Latin, I think people might be scrolling past it with the assumption that it's in a foreign language... which would suck and explain why the views are so low.

I don't want to obsess over numbers - it wouldn't be such a big deal if I knew that more than like, 15 people tops have read chapter 6. But yeah. Fun times. Lots of fun and love. Review, please. They are the sprinkles to the cupcake!

Much love xx