I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize from the Harry Potter World. I do not own Dorian Gray. I do however own Hazel Gray, Morgan Gray and the idea behind this story.
Sitting alone in his study, Dorian swirled the liquid in his glass, bloodshot eyes staring sightlessly ahead. The room was silenced and warded from intrusion, and the decanters had started completely filled before he sat himself down. Even Yaya was barred from his study.
"What am I to do now, picolla?" He sighed, draining his glass and refilling it with a wave of his hand. The second decanted finished already.
He didn't know how he was going to get through this. It was always hard, and Hazel was one of the youngest to leave. This was actually harder than losing Vincent over thirty years ago.
At least then he had a body to mourn.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
Pacing the halls of his manor home, Dorian kept glancing towards the room his wife was giving birth in, the midwife having shooed him away as it "simply wasn't done" to have the husband present for the birthing process. Dorian, however, felt he deserved to be by his wife's side as she brought his heir into the world. He wanted to be there when the babe drew their first breath and see the result of falling madly in love with a woman who kept him on his toes so very much.
The sounds of crying quickly had him spinning on his heel and stalking toward the door, waiting with bated breath to be allowed inside.
"A boy, milord, a fine heir." The rotund woman grinned, opening the door and letting the anxious man inside to dart to his wife and child, shaking her head at the speed in which he moved.
"A boy, Dorian. We have a baby boy!"
"That we do love, that we do." Dorian placed a kiss to the top of his wife's head, stroking one finger along the cheek of his child. "Our little Vincent."
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"Oh my darling!" A lovely woman cried, wrapping her arms about an eleven-year-old boy that looked the spitting image of his father. Dorian grinning with pride even as he shared an eye roll with his son regarding his mother's dramatics.
"Mum!" The boy grumbled, trying to wriggle free of her grip.
"My baby, all grown up and attending Hogwarts! Dorian, isn't he just so dashing in his robes!" She wailed, making her husband cast a swift charm to muffle the noise for those sending their own children off to school.
"Yes, dear, our Vincent is very smartly dressed and tidy, and I'm sure the lad would prefer to stay that way. Isn't that right, Vincent?" Dorian offered a quick escape, wondering if his own mother had done such a thing all those years ago for himself.
"Dad's right Mum, I want to still be tidy when I get sorted into Ravenclaw." Vincent latched onto the lifeline with all his might, quickly straightening himself once he was released and making certain to keep a fair distance from his mother.
Dorian chuckled and wrapped an arm around his wife, patting his son on the shoulder before flicking his wand and sending the boy's belongings onto the train ahead of him, wishing him all the best as he boarded the train for his new beginnings.
It was already known the boy would be in the House of his parents, his wit and sass too much to be anything else.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"Dad! Dad! I got my results! I got Outstandings in nearly every subject! You can take me as your apprentice now!" Vicent crowed, rushing into his father's study and shoving the letter into Dorian's hands, nearly bouncing in place with his excitement.
"Well now, is that right?" Dorian grinned, reading over the parchment quickly and sharing in his son's infectious grin. "We'll just have to go and get your supplies now, won't we my boy? Tell me, what are you most interested in studying?"
"Sculpting, I want to be renowned for statues!" He was near manic as he pulled his robes on, having dragged them to the study with his letter in anticipation of this very thing.
"Statues, eh? A fine decision. Why, we'll have you more famous than Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael!" Pulling his own coat on, still preferring Muggle garments to robes, Dorian clasped his hand onto his son and led the way out of the manor and towards his own favorite shoppe for supplies.
"Yes!" Vincent cried, jumping up and eagerly awaiting his own items to work with.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"I can't wait to finish my studies, Marcus. Then, we will have an apartment and throw lavish parties and have all of the lovely ladies fawning all over us." Vincent grinned, clapping his hand on his best mate's shoulder and winking at one such lady he was eager to speak with once graduation finished for the seventh years. He still had another year with his father before he would apply for his mastery but he was rather confident.
"I just can't wait to get a place in the magical world and not live my parent's London townhouse anymore. My sisters are getting to be far to prone to giggle fits whenever you visit for a cuppa." Marcus grinned, adjusting his hat with the jaunty blue feather tucked into the bronze band.
"Bah, those girls will find a suitable husband closer to their own age. I'm just glad they were so many years below us." Vincent sighed, spotting his father and mother in the growing mass of parents hear to see their offspring reach full adulthood. "Come, I wish for you to visit with my parents before this show begins."
Laughing, both young men made their way forward.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"Father, I need to get Marcus and his family out of London. The enemy are constantly dropping bombs and his parents' townhouse doesn't have ancestral wards protecting them. Even the best cast wards won't do anything until they have time to mature, and we simply haven't the chance for that now." Vincent stood with his hands linked behind his back, his spine straight and his eyes pleading with Dorian.
"Vincent, it is too dangerous for you to go, I don't want to lose you, lad. These are dangerous times for both Magical and Muggle alike." Dorian placed his hands on his son's shoulders, his own pleas falling on deaf ears. "If you insist on doing this, at least take a portkey!"
"Marcus has wards that make them ineffective since he's been studying as a curse breaker, Dad, those won't work until we're out on the street and there's a floo station just down the street. We'll be fine and you'll see me again before you even know it. I shan't be long." Hugging his father, Vincent sent a cheery wave over his shoulder as he left to retrieve his best mate and his family.
Neither one of them knew that would be the last time they saw each other.
Had Dorian known, he would have gone in his place, or at least told his son he loved him.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"Vincent, its too dangerous, we can't keep a shield strong enough on the street. This is a Muggle area." Marcus gripped Vincent's arm tightly, trying to keep the Pureblood from rushing them out into the street with all the chaos surrounding them. Sirens blared overhead and there was a touch of panic setting into the taller man's shoulders.
"We'll be fine. We simply rush to the floo and get to the manor. You all know the address to call out, we'll be fine!" Vincent shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of engines flying overhead.
"This is a-" Marcus never had a chance to finish his statement, the roar overtaking his words and a bomb taking his, and all those inside the townhouse, lives.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
"Vincent!" Dorian was screaming himself hoarse, having felt the deep, soul-wrenching loss of his son's pain before there was nothing. The family magics couldn't locate him, and while the man knew, he wouldn't accept it and was searching franticly for his boy. He had thought that by placing a charm on him he would be able to help. But there was no time, the ministry having blocked passage as the bombs were falling, and then there was all the smoke and rubble.
"Vincent!" Another cry went unanswered, though there was a faint tickle of sensation to his left, a building completely demolished to nothing but brick and ash, and a flickering light of a shield charm dying.
Rushing over, Dorian started shoving at the mess, trying to unbury whoever it was. Be it his son or even some poor magical, he had to help.
After what seemed forever but wasn't even five minutes, he uncovered not his son, but his son's friend, "Marcus? Marcus my boy, where is Vincent?" He cried, even as he sent healing magics into the young man to try and stabilize him.
"He-" a cough, blood bubbling up even as he placed his broken hand on the Immortal's arm. "He's just over there," a tilt of the head, "don't bother with me, my lower half is gone, try and save him. I don't know if he's-" another coughing fit before a weak wheeze and then Marcus was no more.
Manic energy propelled Dorian forward as he shoved with hands and magic the rubble over where Marcus claimed Vincent was. Ash and dust and blood choking him as he fought to find and hopefully save his son.
However, with one last push, the crushed and battered form of Vincent Gray was revealed, and a howl of pain rushed out of Dorian as he cradled his boy in his arms, uncaring of the destruction around him, only that his son, his pride, lay dead in his arms. Never to smile, laugh, or even make him pull his hair in frustration of his antics.
There was only death and destruction all around him, and in that moment, Dorian wished he could trade places with Vincent even more. And baring that, that he himself could die.
It was only three days later that his wife died of a broken heart, leaving him all alone in an empty, cold, and desolate manor.
Some words of the curse all those years ago ringing in his ears. His heart lying in shattered pieces on the floor, and his world torn asunder.
.:':. ':.:' .:':.
Shaking himself out of the memory, Dorian looked blearily around his study. He was still in his chair, though the fire was out and every decanter in the room, save one, was completely empty. He was cold, he discovered, nearly as cold as that day in 1944 when his world was last destroyed.
Last time there had been a funeral, a body to mourn over and bury.
Last time, he was able to drown himself in a bottle without care.
This time, however, this time he was a Sponsor and wasn't allowed to wallow long. He had duties to uphold that couldn't be passed off to his relations. Severus needed him, and damn himself, he needed Severus right now too. The Slytherin was his last connection to his daughter, and he couldn't afford to have the boy see him like the man that killed his mother.
Dorian needed to sober up, and move on. There would be time aplenty to mourn the deaths of his wives and children. After all, Immortality was nothing if not a curse of loss.
A.N.: Please forgive any errors to the era, I am more familiar with American 1940s than I am British so this was artistic license at its strongest.
Thank you all for reading, favoriting, following and reviewing! Have to say, I wasn't expecting the response I received to the last chapter and let me just say wow and thank you all so much!
I do not, however, have another chapter ready as of the posting of this one due to work. I am an essential retail employee here in the U.S. and don't have the time I would like to devote to the muse to write out the details. I will post the next chapter as soon as I write it, but do not expect regular updates until things settle down please. I adore you all and look forward to seeing how you next time!
Chapter Pre-Note (1,947)