Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: Make sure you review.
EPILOGUE
The night was perfectly still and if she hadn't been told- she would never have guessed anything to be out of the ordinary. She stumbled up the short path, her legs barely keeping her up and slowly, tentatively she turned the door handle.
She inhaled sharply, the wreckage of the home once so full of love shocking her incredibly. After a few minutes, she was able to take a step forward.
She walked to the archway that separated the rooms. She averted her eyes from the photographs, not wanting to look at the memories that filled this home. She shuffled through the living room and approached the staircase.
Sounds of agony caused her to turn around. Her breath caught in her throat. A man was bent low, shivering over a dark shape. He looked up, hearing her ragged breath.
"Rosie, don't." He whispered, shakily. She turned back and ran up the staircase, her pulse pummelling, her limbs trembling.
She stopped- one step before the door way. The tears were flowing down her face and she barely had the power to stand.
With a momentous effort which required all the strength she possessed- she stepped forward.
She took in the scene before her- the seemingly out of place chest of draws, the bookcase, the mobile hanging over the cot that encased the crying baby. And there, on the quaint blue carpet lay a cold figure.
Rose screamed.
She didn't hear the footfalls of someone bounding up the staircase, she barely felt the strong arms restrain her as she fell to the ground- reaching out. She didn't care that she was still screaming, that the tears were dampening anything and everything close to her. She hardly listened to the voice in her ear, attempting to calm her.
For all that mattered was her.
She was the only thing that had ever, truly mattered. The only thing that had stayed. The only thing that had trusted her. The only thing to have faith in her.
And she was dead.
Lily Evans was dead.
"Who did it?" She breathed, every inch of her body trembling, "It had to be someone's fault, who's was it?" The man behind her was stiff with rage.
She had expected him to answer with the obvious, expected his to tell her that it was You-Know-Who and nothing was to be done. Yet, in any circumstance, she would never have guessed him to answer as he did.
"Petigrew." He bit out, his voice breaking.
She shot up, throwing his arms off her and pulling her wand from her pocket.
"I'll kill him." But, as she moved to get through the door he was blocking her way. She looked into his eyes, the once warm, dark eyes that were different now. They were empty. Something had died inside him. The man who used to be so full of life was drained. Drained of everything except one emotion: Anger.
And from the almost deserted nursery came the words that would change his life forever. The words that would damn him for many, many years to come.
"No," He growled, "let me." And Sirius Black was gone.