5

OLLIE'S eyes searched frantically until he found the St. Mungo's Healer standing outside the door that Sirius had told him to bring Norah into.

"You!" he beckoned, urgency in his raspy voice that sent a chill up and down the middle-aged Healer's spine as he looked up, startled to hear a voice that in his mind, was the embodiment of the graveyard itself.

The St. Mungo's Healer who had answered his Patronus's summons and acknowledged his desperate plea for help turned to face Ollie Brennan.

A man in his forties with slicked-back dark hair, Douglas Jones was one of few Healers with whom Ollie had a good repertoire at St. Mungo's. Ollie, in times past, had paid him a handsome sum of Galleons, whatever his asking price, in order for private treatment and house calls, the likes of which he'd never wanted the Ministry or other law enforcement officials to find out.

Jones was the man he contacted when he wanted something kept under wraps.

The man was something of an old family friend and oft-made exceptions for the Brennan family, even if it did come from a place of fear upon seeing Jack and Ollie's collectively shared tempers.

Healer Jones was not a man who typically resorted to making house calls for the general wizarding community, but for the amount of Galleons Oliver Brennan was willing to pay for him to appear here, the sender of said Patronus, a large black mamba snake that slithered its way onto his desk to deliver its intended message that had startled him out of filing his latest case report, he made an exception.

The expression on the cloaked man's face, at least in the pursing of his lips that were tinged blue, was direr than if he were the one who needed immediate medical attention that for reasons unknown to the experienced Healer, were to be kept under wraps.

But then Healer Jones noticed the limp and unresponsive figure in the cloaked man's arms, a wounded and bloodied Mrs. Norah Jameson. A dead woman and werewolf who, if Jones was not mistaken, had been buried earlier.

The St. Mungo's Healer blinked owlishly at the young blonde woman's figure, wondering if, in his tiredness, his mind was playing tricks.

"I…th—that's Mrs. Norah Brennan, sir, I—I think surely there must be some mistake. The witch is dead, sir," his voice stammered off as he lifted his gaze and looked towards Ollie, though the hood of his black woolen robes made it impossible for the Healer to look into his eyes, which was a good thing. Ollie did not want to frighten the Healer off.

"She's not. Norah is still alive, but she needs medical care immediately, will you help her or not? This is what I pay you for, Jones, so get to it and fix my wife. NOW," Ollie barked in his rasp voice, a black mist speckled with bits of ice started to emanate off the tips of his shoulders in his growing ire at this Healer's lack of actions at helping his love.

The Healer could tell by the way the figure held himself that he was worried, the fear in his stance, and the almost ironclad grip he had on his wife. The poor bloke's fingers were shaking badly.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was looking at the distraught form of Oliver James Brennan, the young woman's husband.

He shivered, remembering the reformed Death Eater's fearsome temperament and the first time he'd met the man. It was again an issue involving the young blonde werewolf that involved a skirmish through the Forest of Dean alongside a few Snatchers that were under Brennan's command at the time a few years back, but all of that seemed a distant memory.

"Inside quickly, lay her on the surgical table."

"What surgical table?" Ollie barked hoarsely as he kicked open Sirius's spare bedroom with his boot, already finding Black lingering in the corner, his wand drawn, a white surgical table having been conjured in the middle of the room alongside a small table prepared with a various assortment of instruments to allow the Healer to work unencumbered.

The bed had been shoved via magic to the furthest corner of the room to give Healer Jones as much space as he needed to tend to Norah.

"Try not to move her so much! I don't yet know the extent of her internal injuries!" ordered the Healer as Ollie carefully laid Norah on the table, grateful Sirius had thought to conjure a soft-looking pillow upon which he rested Norah's head.

Ollie stepped backward as the Healer brushed his hands on the front of his lime-green St. Mungo's robes and pushed his rimless glasses back up the bridge of his slightly crooked nose and stepped forward. Healer Jones carefully poked and prodded the wounds at Norah's side. He pressed around the outside of the puncture and peeked at the edges.

As Healer Jones began to rip apart sections of Norah's black lace dress that she had been buried in, Ollie's heart gave a lurch as he heard Norah shudder and groan as if the act were causing her great pain.

Ollie stiffened and shot the Healer a threatening look of dagger eyes. He could kill him here and now if he were of a mind to if he hurt his love. A low warning growl erupted from his chest, throat, and lips, his chest vibrating from the sound.

But he relented and conceded upon feeling Sirius's piercing steely glower burning an uncomfortably hot hole in the side of his skull as his best friend's blood cousin caught him contemplating it. Ollie shook his head to clear it.

Like it or not, Jones was the only Healer within St. Mungo's staff with whom he had a semi-decent relationship and was on good terms with, and the only man whom he could trust to be discreet.

Healer Jones was the only one Ollie trusted to save his wife. He needed him. Killing him would merely have to wait, but not even Merlin Himself would be able to save Jones from him now that he was Death if Jones so much as harmed his Norah…

Ollie let out a haggard sigh and stepped back away from the table reluctantly. He watched as the Healer gave a curt wave of his wand with his wrist, a vial of a clear liquid that smelled truly disgusting floated in midair before tilting downward and a rag floated upward to meet the liquid before it could dump itself onto the floor, pouring onto the rag instead.

Once Healer Jones was confident the rag was adequately soaked with what Ollie guessed was some tampered with a concoction of a Sleeping Draught, the Healer held it in his palms for a few seconds, allowing it to settle, before placing it over Norah's nose and mouth. She jerked forward once, and then relaxed and merely seemed to be sleeping.

"Who brought her here? What happened?" Healer Jones demanded, almost sounding angry with the two wizards as he looked towards Sirius and Ollie for any signs of a plausible explanation.

Ollie stepped forward, though he was careful to cling to the elongated shadows cast about the room, wishing to remain shrouded in darkness. He did not want Healer Jones or Sirius to see his face.

To see what he had become.

"I did, Jones," Ollie admitted, his face strained with worry. It was as Death had told him. That he would be able to revive his wife, to bring her back, though she would not be fully healed, and not the same. He hoped he'd not done Norah and their unborn baby more harm than good by his actions. He fell silent and waited for Jones to speak.

Healer Jones made an odd little grunting noise at the back of his throat as he finished his inspection of Norah Brennan's immediate medical needs, moving around the table to face his client, and clamped Ollie on the shoulder, but regretted it.

Jones let out a hiss through gritted teeth as his fingers wound themselves around the thick fabric of the Death Eater's thick black woolen robes. His fingers came away coated in several little ice crystals.

"What happened to you?" he demanded, raising his thick dark eyebrows in surprise and alarm as he brushed the pads of his fingers to get to rid them of Ollie's ice. "Did you cast a Freezing Charm on yourself on accident, Mr. Brennan, or what? Is it potentially something that I could take a look at for you?"

Ollie stiffened as he heard Sirius Black's sharp intake of breath. The natural Legilimens didn't even have to probe Black's mind to know his thoughts. That maybe, finally, he'd tell him what had happened to him.

Ollie vehemently shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, I'm none of your concern.Norah is your focus, Jones, focus on healing my wife, or I'll make short bloody work of your fucking fingers and I won't pay you the promised price. You agreed, you came, so honor your part of our arrangement, Jones, right fucking now, or Merlin helps you, not even Merlin's grace will be able to save you from me," he growled in his raspy voice that caused the temperature in the spare bedroom to drop another ten degrees, eliciting shivers from both the Healer and Sirius just then.

If Healer Jones was at all offended or put off by his answer, the trained medical expert gave no indication. He merely coughed to clear his throat and then addressed Ollie in a clear, conscience voice.

"Well. By bringing her immediately here, you may have just saved her life, Mr. Brennan."

Ollie appeared relieved for a moment, though he noticed the darkening look in the Healer's eyes behind the lenses of his spectacles.

But Ollie couldn't manage to pretend to care. He looked towards his wife and then returned his attention back to the Healer.

"Save my wife. Please," he implored, rendering Healer Jones silent.

Jones could not manage to speak. It was clear that the infamous former Death Eater was very much in love with his wife, this cute blonde she-wolf who Jones had met only once before this, back when Brennan first met Norah, and even then, the circumstances surrounding her had been dire. He'd been so preoccupied with healing her then too, that he'd never actually had the chance to properly meet the young woman who'd one day thaw the Death Eater's icy heart. He only wished it were under better circumstances.

All Healer Jones could do was nod and pray that he would be able to utilize his skills and knowledge to help the werewolf pull through. There was no time to lose. Healer Jones knew he could delay no longer.

Every second wasted was another second the young she-wolf slipped away. Jones turned away from Sirius and Ollie, furrowing his brows into a frown at the heavy icy chill that lingered in the room that emanated from him. He wondered why, though he had no time to ponder it as he grabbed the necessary instruments which appeared at his elbow and began cutting an incision in between Norah's ribs to stem the bleeding and try what he could to stave off infection.

Ollie steeled himself and dug the heels of his boots into the hardwood, dusty floor of the room. He planned to remain by his wife's side throughout the duration of the surgery. It looked to him as pieces of her dress were cut away that a shard of something, a piece of stone maybe from where Greyback had caused the wall behind Norah to explode during the Battle of Hogwarts, had managed to embed itself into her side.

But the St. Mungo's Healer seemed to have other ideas. Within moments he and Sirius were both nudged out of the way by the Healer as he guided them to the door.

"Kindly leave here," Healer Jones requested in as patient and polite a voice as he could muster. "You will need to wait outside, Mr. Brennan. You too, Black, I require the space to work in private," the middle-aged Healer said cautiously.

Ollie bristled, gnashing his teeth together, and scowled a warning at the man, letting out a low rumbling growl from within the confines of his chest.

"No," he rasped in his hoarse voice that sounded colder than before. He wondered if now that he had become the physical embodiment of Death itself if that had something to do with it. "I need to stay with her," Ollie growled, shirking away as Sirius grabbed Ollie's arm and started to drag him out of the bedroom. Ollie fought him the whole way. "I'm staying, Black, so get your fucking hands off me!" he bellowed. "I need to stay by Norah!"

Healer Jones did not bother to look up from his work, though the other two wizards could hear the saddened expression of his voice, though it was sharp. "You cannot stay. I don't think your wife would want you to see her like this, Mr. Brennan. And I haven't time to argue with you. Getout." He pointed towards the door. "Right now, Oliver."

A cold wave of fear washed over him that had nothing to do with the fact that Ollie was Death. He didn't want to leave. Not like this. What if something happened to Norah while he was away? What if he wasn't by her side when she needed him? No fucking way.

Ollie wasn't going to leave her again, not when he'd worked so hard to bring her back to this world and when he only got one day with her starting tomorrow before Ollie would have to leave to allow his shade to walk the Earth.

"Brennan!" Sirius Black's voice had only been sharp with him once to the best of his ability to recollect and oddly enough it was the last time when Norah had also been hurt, years ago now, though the memories flitted through his mind as though he were watching them from a Pensieve.

Ollie sanguinely lifted his head to look at Sirius, who was regarding him with an odd expression on his face and his dark brows came together. He looked as though he were trying to piece together in his mind what Ollie had done, though Ollie found it difficult not to roll his eyes at that.

Good luck figuring it out, Black, he thought bitterly to himself before returning his attention to his wife's unconscious form resting on the surgical table. "Merlin's Beard, there's blood, so much blood," he whispered, feeling his face drain of color.

Sirius continued speaking as though Ollie had not interrupted him, though his chest puffed out slightly in his growing annoyance with Dora's friend.

"There is nothing you can do for her at this point. You would only be in the Healers' way. What you can do now is follow me downstairs, I'll make you a spot of tea, or I've got something a little stronger if you need it. Mead or some Fire Whiskey, and then you and I are gonna sit in front of the fireplace and have ourselves a little talk. I want the Merlin and God's honest truth from you, Brennan. I want to know how you managed to bring your wife back. Does anyone else know? Lupin? Tonks?"

He shook his head numbly by way of answering. Ollie paused, considering Sirius's words as he looked from Sirius to Sophia, then back again. The anger and indecision were eating away at his insides.

"Ollie." Sirius's voice was softer this time. "I can understand what you're feeling right now. Truly, I do. But the best thing you and I can do for Norah right now is to give her some space and let Healer Jones do what he's good at. Let him heal her. It's what you're paying him for. You need to let him work, and you need to come with me," Sirius insisted, tugging on the sleeve of Ollie's robes. He understood Norah's husband's hostility as he did his best to calm down Brennan.

"I want her to know I'm here," Ollie snapped in a harsh voice that sounded almost like a plea, his face pained beneath the draping hood of his robes.

"She knows." Sirius tried to comfort him by shooting him an awkward little half-smile, though in actuality, it came out as more of a pained grimace.

Sirius said nothing further, though he shot him a pointed look with a clear intended message.

Let the Healer work alone. Get out of here.

"Fine," Ollie hissed through gritted teeth, his tone defeated, and he sounded very near tears for the millionth time in the last three days since his wife and unborn child's death.

In fact, unbeknownst to Sirius, tears were already streaming down the man's face, though Sirius could see that they were forming as ice crystals the moment they fell from his eyelids.

Ollie turned on his heels to vacate the bedroom and follow Sirius downstairs to the living room's parlor but found that he couldn't follow.

Not without—

Before either man could prevent him from doing it, Ollie whirled on his heels and knelt in front of the surgical table.

Norah's eyes were closed. He leaned over and smoothed a few stray wisps of her white-blonde hair off her forehead and out of her eyes. He knelt and whispered in the shell of her ear in a low, shaking voice.

"I will be here when you wake up, Nor, I promise, baby. I'm not going to break my word to you again." Here, his hand ghosted along with his wife's form and settled on the flat of her stomach. "Either one of you, sweetheart."

Then he rose to his full towering height of 6'3, his body trembling beneath his thick robes, and slowly drew out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. But not before casting one final glance backward at Norah's limp and unconscious form.

For a moment, time itself seemed to cease. Nothing else existed but his wife and their unborn babe. And it was time, that cruel bastard, Ollie realized, that the three of them now had to fight against. It was a battle his wife had to fight. Alone.

The thought was more than Death could bear. As the door clicked in place and he moved to stand numbly alongside Sirius, Ollie found himself rooted to his spot and unable to move a single limb.

His eardrums roared with the sound of the blood rushing to his head, and as he numbly followed Sirius down the staircase to the living room, Ollie couldn't help but wonder how the bloody fuck that his life had come to fucking this.

How in such a short time span, all that he had ever cared for in his otherwise miserable and shitty life had been torn apart from him? Norah did not deserve this. She should never have felt such pain.

His angel, the love of his life and the only woman in this country beside Tonks to see what lay beneath the exterior and into his heart, to see through his violent past, his baby, his world, deserved a life of peace and comfort. Of love and kindness.

And yet, back when she had been Norah Jameson before they had married, all she had ever known when exposed to a bastard the likes of him were worry, pain, and strife.

By knowing who and what Ollie was, by daring to fall in love with him and thaw his heart where once there had been just an icebox, that had caused this.

He had done this to his Norah. All of this was his fault. He'd exposed her to Greyback's wrath, and she had paid the price for it.

And all because he'd not been able to stay the fuck away from the witch he was supposed to have killed.

Because he'd taken one look into those pleading piercing eyes of pale cobalt blue and had become ensnared.

His heart had shown for the first time back then, a moment of weakness. He'd let her go on the off-chance thinking he'd never see her again, only to be surprised around two weeks later.

Tears stung at the edges of his eyelids, burning his retinas, and marring his vision as he thought of the look of abject shock and horror the second time that he had encountered his target, werewolf Norah Jameson, had given him then, and how even more shocked the young blonde had been when he'd made no move to apprehend her and take her right there in the streets of Knockturn Alley. Instead, he'd merely watched her in silence.

Ollie let out a low growl, shaking his head to himself to rid his mind of the memory that for now, he would rather not dwell on it, as he had more important matters to be concerned with. Such as the fact that he had almost caused the woman he loved more than his own life itself, yes, loved, to meet a horrible fate a second-time when Ollie revived her.

His tears that slid down the slope of his temple in gentle tracts that turned to ice crystals and fell with barely audible little chinks to the floor at his feet flowed faster. He truly was a bastard and every bit an accursed wretch and a monster to her.

She might still die. Because of me, he thought bitterly. Ollie hated himself at that exact moment.

Sirius's back was turned to Ollie momentarily as he pointed his wand to the hearth in the fireplace, causing a shower of sparks to emanate from the tip of his wand, causing a roaring fire to dance in the metal grate, sending the smell of pinewood and oak through the otherwise musty-smelling living room.

With no way of watching over Norah while Healer Jones worked and no one upon which to unleash his unbridled rage and his fury, Ollie turned away from Sirius, who'd turned around and was holding two glasses of a red-elvish wine in his hands and was regarding the younger man with a look of ire in his narrowed pale-grey irises as Black stared.

Ollie let loose his fury upon the peeling floral wallpaper of Sirius's parent's ancient old parlor.

Clenching his fist and letting out a long, furious yell that caused the hairs on the back of Black's neck to stand upright, Ollie slammed his white-boned knuckles over and over against the unmoving wall.

His ice-cold skin shredded and cracked against the rough foundation beneath the wallpaper.

However, the former Death Eater felt no pain, his mind so focused on Norah and her ordeal, wondering if his wife and unborn babe would survive through the night.

His injury was nothing compared to what the love of his life was currently going through, upstairs without him, fighting for her life, and he could not be there by Norah's side.

Sirius merely stood back and stayed silent, allowing Nymphadora's best friend to have his release, as long as the man didn't destroy his house.

Ollie felt like his breaths were coming in short, his chest constricted and tightened, rendering him almost unable to breathe, and black spots danced threateningly along the edges of his vision.

For a moment, he thought he might actually faint. His blood was pounding, roaring in his ears.

"Don't do anything fucking daft, Brennan," Sirius barked in his hoarse voice as he casually glanced down at the swirling red wine in his glass.

But Ollie was listening as self-hatred, loathing at what he was, what he had sacrificed for her, his anger, swept over him in a blackening, unrelenting torrent, and Ollie let out a scream of frustration that made the very walls of Sirius's living room shake as he kicked aside a chair and overturned it in anger.

In his blinding rage, Ollie had to stop himself from flinging his entire body weight at Sirius. He settled instead for picking up the chair he'd overturned and proceeded to throw it across the room.

Death was making a horrible noise that belonged to no man or animal, no living creature on this Earth. A noise of betrayal, of immense pain and agony at his wife's current condition.

He sank to his knees as there was no more air left in his lungs to scream, and no effort left in his muscles he collapsed against the wall, exhausted, and slid to the floor, feeling exhausted.

Sirius paused, seeming to contemplate extending a hand to offer to help him up, clearly thinking the two leather armchairs in front of the fireplace would be more comfortable. But he must have thought better of it, for slowly, Sirius slid down the wall and side beside his cousin's best friend.

"She's in good hands, Brennan," Sirius encouraged in a somber voice that was unlike him. "You know Jones, you have…a good financial arrangement with him, don't you? If anyone can see Norah through this, it's that shifty little bastard," Sirius shrugged, throwing his head back and taking a sip of wine. He paused, studying what little he could of Brennan's features underneath the hood of his cloak. "Take it off," Sirius commanded in a harsh warning growl, the fingers of his wand hand curling around the handle of his wand. "Lower your hood and you look me in the eyes right now unless you want me to jinx you. I want to know what the bloody fucking hell you've done. Let me see you, boy. Now."

"Believe me, you don't," Ollie answered, jerking his hand away, though Black had lightning-quick reflexes.

The older man's hand shot out without any kind of warning at all, leaving Death with no time to react as his hood was ripped from his face.

Sirius barely managed to stifle his startled yelp of surprise as he reeled backward in fear and alarm as his eyes landed on Ollie Brennan's eyes.

His blue eyes had gone entirely black, even the whites of his eyes, and it was as though his entire body were coated with some sort of permafrost.

The younger wizard had always possessed a pale skin complexion, but the bone-white hue of his skin now resembled that of Lord Voldemort's skin.

"What the fuck?" Sirius roared at the top of his lungs in abject horror and alarm, as with a clear view of Dora's friend, he could see the terror and anger rise from within Ollie at being exposed so fast.

His large, unblinking eyes ran up and down his new twisted form. The bloke had kept his handsome good looks and his hair at least, thank Merlin for that, but his fucking eyes were empty pits.

And he was…cold.

Brennan was cold to the touch, feeling as though he'd just stepped out of a freezer or something. Ollie's black eyes looked to anywhere but at Sirius in a panic.

Sirius couldn't be sure, but he swore he heard the former Death Eater let out a low whimper. He was truly terrified.

For many moments, Sirius simply gaped at Dora's best friend in shock. His forearms flew over his head to try to mask his face and new form from Black, but the damage had already been done.

Sirius had seen everything.

"I—I know this form," he whispered in a gruff, grating voice. Though his legs shook as though he'd been hit with a Jelly Legs Curse, he somehow rose from his spot, and in two quick successions of steps, he practically flew as he barreled his way towards a nearby bookcase.

He grunted under his breath until he found what he was looking for. An illustrated copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Sirius thumbed through the pages of the book until his thumb came to rest on what he was looking for: an illustrated black ink drawing of the cloaked figure of Death from the tale of The Deathly Hallows.

Sirius's widened eyes flitted from the illustration and back to Ollie a couple of times. Things were beginning to add up.

"Oh, no…" The dread in Sirius's tone was obvious as he beseeched Dora's best friend and Teddy's godfather.

As he felt the book slide from his grasp and clatter to the hardwood floor with a loud thump, his eyes went wide, and Sirius looked as though he had been punched in the gut and was about to be sick.

Ollie looked like he was wishing the ground would open him up and swallow him whole, despite the difficulty in reading the man's blackened eyes.

"Oh, please, no, Ollie, tell me you didn't, Brennan. Are you a fucking mental bit?" he roared.

The nervous man's haunting and frightening black eyes met Sirius's narrowed grey ones in fear. He couldn't be sure, but Sirius thought Ollie's eyes were filled with dismay and horror and dread at what he had done to bring Norah back.

For many moments, Sirius stared at Dora's best friend, wondering if what he was seeing was real, or if it was merely a product of the copious amounts of house-elf-made wine that he'd drank. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving his head a curt shake to rid his mind of the frightening image that had permanently burned itself into his retinas.

When he opened his eyes and Ollie's horrifying new image still lingered, Sirius realized with a sinking feeling in the pit churning in his belly that this was no wine-fueled phantasm of his mind.

For many moments, Sirius could only stare at the frozen figure of Death in utter shock and horror.

He felt heavy as his feet remained firmly cemented into the dusty hardwood floor of the parlor. But before he could open his mouth to scream and yell at Ollie, a wave of sympathy and strangely enough, guilt, wracked its way through his body as Sirius looked at the grieving husband and soon-to-be-father to his and Norah's unborn baby.

This man, Dora's best mate, was no monster, despite his physical appearance now suggesting otherwise.

He was a person, a human being (at least, he thought so!), and this man had lived through a world of hurt and anguish his entire life, from what snippets Tonks had told him of her friend's upbringing.

Sirius let out a haggard sigh and pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

He knew he could not continue this scorn, no matter what Ollie had or had not done.

He swallowed down past a lump forming in his throat. "How?" Sirius demanded in a hoarse voice, amazed he could summon enough strength on his throat to croak out even just a single word.

Ollie drew in a hitched breath, a relatively poor attempt to calm himself as his arms fell away from his face slightly in hesitation, trying to conceal his eyes. His wide glazed blackened eyes blinked rapidly as if he were processing Sirius's question.

He looked more than a little shocked by Sirius's reaction. It quickly became clear to Sirius that Ollie had thought Sirius was going to hurt him following whatever this…metamorphosis was that he'd undergone.

But as frightening as he was, Death or not, if this was really what happened, he was still Teddy Remus Lupin's second godfather, wife to Norah Brennan, whom he loved more than life itself. And he was not about to cause him further ire.

Ollie's breaths caught in his throat, a relatively poor attempt to calm himself as he brought his arms down, but of course, his bone-white hands found their way to the rest of them. Sirius tried again.

"Hey." His voice, scratchy though it was, was low and soft as he looked upon Ollie's changed face with as much Gryffindor courage as he could muster. He hoped his fear and disdain at what the man had done to himself didn't show in his eyes. "It's alright, Brennan, I'm not going to fucking hurt you, I—I just…want to know what happened, mate. Do Lupin and Tonks know? And Norah? Were you even going to tell either one of them about...this?" he asked in a faint whisper as he gestured towards a fistful of Ollie's robes, trying not to stare at the man's haunting eyes that chilled his blood to ice.

Ollie was too nervous to eye Sirius for long, he noted.

That alone was enough in it itself of an answer, that no, the three of them didn't know what Ollie had done. Ollie's expression was one of disbelief, and the newly cloaked figure of Death looked sick as he turned his head and met his gaze.

"No," Ollie answered, lowering his gaze to the floor beneath his boots. The poor man looked like he wanted nothing more than for a hole beneath the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Sirius nodded in understanding. That much he could understand. They were going to freak the fuck out when he sent Remus and Dora a message here in a moment, but first, he wanted answers.

"Level with me then, Brennan," Sirius demanded, his tone deadly serious and slightly curt. "What did you do?" he asked, dread in his voice. He wildly gesticulated with his hands to Ollie's form. "H—how did you bring Norah back and why are you…well, like this?" he asked in a faint voice.

Ollie's black eyes registered a moment of shock, a look that made Sirius revolt in disgust and fear, though he dared not revert his gaze from Death.

"He made me a deal that I couldn't refuse. Norah and our baby's life in exchange for me taking his place and the mantle of his responsibilities. I am still alive, but I am only allowed to see my wife once a year, on a day of my choosing after tonight," he answered softly in an incredulous sounding voice, as though Ollie himself were still having difficulty believing that all of this had happened to him now.

"Eh?" Sirius gasped out in a hoarse whisper. "How? What? Why?"

He was desperate to learn all that had transpired to cause Ollie to conclude that to change his life so drastically like this was the only way to get back that which he had loved and lost.

"Wh—what about Tonks and Lupin? Teddy? And Norah, Brennan, are you fucking stupid? Y—you could really do this to all of them? Norah's going to bloody hate you for what you've done, Ollie, and could you really blame her?" Sirius interjected before Ollie could open his mouth to speak. "You made this choice without her. You were desperate, I understand the want to bring her back, I really do, but what if Norah wouldn't want this life for you? Does it even matter what your wife wants? And Tonks, my baby cousin is your best friend, mate! This is going to break her heart when she learns!"

Ollie was silent for several long minutes. There were several answers, he could give, he thought. But in the end, his heart answered for him.

"I wasn't thinking of anything else when the deal was struck," Ollie confessed in a hushed whisper. "Only her." Ollie's raspy voice made ten times worse now that he was the embodiment of Death was tinged with an aching longing, as he thought of Norah and the family he might have had. "It is my fault what happened to her," he cried, chastising himself, his voice nearly a whimper. "I only wanted to keep my wife safe. My only thought earlier when I…when this happened," he growled, tugging on a fistful of his woolen black robes, "was to protect my wife and to bring her back to me."

Ollie's regret sounded like it was going to consume him.

Sirius furrowed his brows in a frown. "Well." Sirius reminded him indignantly. "Your wife is certainly going to have a lot more to think about now when she wakes up. You really think she wants a husband, a father to her child, whom she can only see once a year? Merlin, Brennan, at this rate, it might have been better for Norah if you were the one who had died," he spat meanly, the words feeling like bile in his mouth.

Seeing the anguish and torment in those awful pits of black that were Ollie's eyes now, Sirius instantly regretting throwing shame and blame at Dora's best mate like a weapon, but it was the only way to get the younger wizard to see any sense.

Ollie blinked as his mind struggled to process Sirius's words. Though before he could speak, Sirius spoke up again, carding his fingers through his thick tuft of shoulder-length wavy dark brown hair.

"Fuck," Sirius swore through gritted teeth, staring down at his boots. "Now what do we do? What the hell am I going to do? They deserve to know, Ollie. I'm going to have to tell Tonks and Lupin the truth. It's not right to keep them in the dark about this. I—I don't know what you want to tell Norah, maybe it's better to let your wife think you're dead," he snapped meanly. "But I'm not keeping the truth from my best friend and my cousin. Don't fucking ask me to because I won't. I don't know how they're going to react, but I'm letting them know as soon we get word she's awake."

A look of determination and resolve was set upon Sirius's face.

Ollie knew Sirius's mind was made up.

Nevertheless, it did not stop the younger man from feeling worried and concerned as a nauseous feeling wormed its way to the pit of his stomach. Ollie swallowed back bile, thinking it was a bloody miracle he'd not thrown up.

"What? You can't tell Tonks, Sirius! Black, surely you're not serious about it!" Ollie stammered, feeling certain he had misheard, just as the St. Mungo's Healer's footsteps could be heard walking calmly down the stairs of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, stating that his work on Norah Brennan was done and that the young werewolf had regained consciousness, and was calling for Ollie.

Well, that could have gone a whole lot worse. Coming up, Ollie talks to Norah from the shadows and Sirius sends a message to Lupin and Tonks stating the impossible that Norah's alive, but how will they react?