47

THE graveyard, the very same where his father was buried in Little Hangleton, alongside the Dark Lords' parents, exuded an intimidating aura as Ollie Apparated onto solid ground and approached his father's tombstone. He wasn't sure why he'd come here to this wretched place. His worn hand tugged on the fabric of his thick black woolen sweater.

As he stood in front of his father's grave, a thick uneasiness filled his scarred and broad chest. Ollie rose a trembling hand to one of his tired eyes, his blue eyes cracked and red-rimmed at the edges and rubbed slowly over the rough surface of his skin.

The guilt clung to him, following him. A scattered sigh that turned into a choked sob managed to escape his cracked lips, venting as a pressure undulating in his chest that he tried to fight against, but could no longer compose himself.

His memories of the last time he'd dared to set foot in this wretched place were when he had discovered Norah had snuck out.

Now, flashes of his childhood, his mother laughing and a gentle kiss to his cheek, his father putting his arm around him, his older brother yelling at him for crashing his toy broomstick. Ollie felt his anger flare up again.

A cold and yet hot rage at the same time as his blue eyes darkened, flashing indignantly.

He remembered Father yelling at him. He did not remember doing it, but he remembered being yelled at.

He remembered finding his brother, Dominic, sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom, covered in blood, his bedroom in ruins. He remembered being yelled at as his father and mother thought he'd killed his brother.

His hands tightened into white fists. He wanted to stab something, to point his wand and utter the last and final Unforgiveable Curse, the Killing Curse, and watch the light leave his victim's eyes. He wanted…he wanted to kill.

Oh, gods, oh no…

He was in one of those moods swearing that if he saw Norah again, he would either snap her neck as punishment for betraying him and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix or rush off to hold his now ex-girlfriend tightly and never let the little blonde werewolf go again.

When at once, his burst of wrath swelled, Ollie shut his eyes to breathe in the searing biting air as October drew closer with each hour and exhaled it as a shaking stream of vapor from his trembling lips.

Ollie's wand hand, which seemed to be moving of its own volition, plunged itself into his back jeans pocket and withdrew his wand, raising it so that the tip rested at the center of Jack Brennan's tombstone.

"Bombarda!" he bellowed in a hoarse voice, watching in immerse satisfaction as a burst of light emanated from his wand's tip and sent his father's pristine marble tombstone exploding into a thousand chunks of white marble stone, scattering every which way.

His shaking hands curled into a fist as he drew back his other arm, his right, and hefted it as far back as he could until his knuckles came into contact with a chunk of stone that rested nearby as he sank to his knees, feeling the strength in his legs immediately leave him now.

Ollie grunted and punched the stone repeatedly, over and over again, it being the only thing upon which to release his feelings of hurt and betrayal.

But the Legilimens hardly registered any pain at all. He felt blood trickling in between his knuckles and down his palms and a fingernail break off as he continued to hit the chunk of stone by his thigh. His shoulders and broad chest heaved as he panted, gasping for air that felt as though it simply would not return to his constricting lungs as his throat tightened, rendering him feeling lightheaded and breathless, like he would pass out at any given moment from his hurt.

He buried his head in his hands and let out a low growl of anger and pain.

The thought of the beautiful young witch he'd saved flashed in his vivid memory. The recollection of Norah Jameson's bright white smile danced in the back of his mind. If he focused long enough, the former Slytherin could almost hear the witch's laugh as though the prickly little blonde were standing right next to him.

The memory of his ex-girlfriend of barely even a full twenty-four hours almost resembled that of a painting as the warm pinks of the early risen sun had shone through the cracks in the curtains of his bedroom this morning. Her smile had laced over her face with such a sweetness, he was sure no other woman in the entire world held such a smile as hers.

A sharp pang thrashed its way through Ollie's heart, freezing his blood in his veins to ice.

He felt…wrong. Or more so, what he was feeling still for the young woman, despite what she had done to him, to them all, was wrong. It just had to be. Wasn't it? He let out a snarl.

Ollie let out a hiss as Father's voice, that menacing tone, clouded his thoughts. Oliver, as time passes, the seductions of women will never die.

Remember, they're nothing but harlots, temptresses to stray a young man like you away from the Dark Lord's work. Don't let it happen to you, or you'll get worse than the mark on your eye, boy. Now leave me alone and get out of my sight.

The memory of Father's voice was clouded, but still, the black-haired man could still recall his daunting father's icy cold glowering. Jack had instilled in Ollie at a young age to be wary of any woman was not strictly of pureblood lineage, to never trust a filthy half-blood or a Mudblood, or Merlin and God themselves forbid, a trashy werewolf, but no matter how hard Ollie had tried to believe his father growing up, after Tonks had entered into his life, he simply couldn't believe it.

How could it be true?

Nymphadora.

Norah.

How could both of them have been witches of darkness? True, Tonks had challenged Ollie to think outside the scope of his father's beliefs and look beyond the matter of lineage and bloodlines, but in the end, Ollie had been liberated from his father. His world, especially now that the man was dead, would never be the same.

The world had become bigger and brighter, because of Tonks.

For some strange reason, the night his father had given him the burn mark underneath his eye that marred his otherwise handsome features, if he were given the chance to turn back time, he'd do it all over again.

And Norah. The wolf's serene blue eyes drenched his memory, when he wished he could extract it from his mind permanently and forget, and yet, he could not bring himself to wipe his mind of the memory of the young witch.

He would never have imagined another young woman would have invoked these feelings he once felt for Dora, but here he was. Broken, betrayed, scared, and beaten, but feeling.

These feelings, despite Norah's betrayal, still left him feeling light and breathless, but underneath it all, something dark within him stirred, that same darkness that had caused him to destroy his father's grave.

This 'wrong' feeling. Not only did he feel 'wrong' but the snakelike voice that sounded entirely too much like Father's voice sat in the back of his mind, taunting him now with its poisonous words.

You are sooo pathetic. You've not learned your lesson at all. These intrusive thoughts left Ollie feeling speechless, enraged, and pondering, wondering what it all meant. His blue eyes were left unblinking, his breaths hitching in his throat. A heavy hand found its way back to his face as Ollie tightly snapped his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the dark demonic voices raging war within his mind.

The mocking tone was laced with amusement and judgment as it laughed. Unfortunately, he was quite familiar with Father's voice…

Did you really love the werewolf at all? From the way you yelled at her and hit her, you've moved on from her, used that girl like she was used parchment paper, and tossed her aside when you were done with her like she was little more than your own little plaything, your own concubine, boy, that's all the bitch is good for, the voice that sounded like his father's tormented the poor man.

"NO!" Ollie roared, his cracking voice erupting from him as though he prayed it would be the silencer to the voice in his head. His shallow breaths worsened as time in this deserted and decrepit graveyard passed. "Y—you're wrong, I—I—I'm h—happy…" He buried his head in his calloused hands, pieces of black locks sticky every which way as they entangled themselves in his slender fingers.

The poor man was hysterical at this point. His lungs burned as the biting cold air of the night around him thrashed in and out of his lungs at a speed that he could not begin to slow down for the life of him. The thundering of Ollie's heart numbed his aching chest. He felt slick tears start to slip from his lids and down the slope of his temple.

He tried in vain to fight down the salty liquid to no avail.

After a moment of deafening silence, the voice finally ceased tormenting him. The only thing his ears now heard was the wind flowing around his violently trembling body. His head remained firmly pressed into his hands. His lungs had calmed slightly, thank Merlin, the burning feeling slowly but surely subsided as he breathed out heavy, scattered breaths.

"I—I—I l-loved h—her…" His hoarse voice dropped lower than what Ollie was used to. This was wrong, it just had to be wrong.

How could he still feel this way for the bitch who'd betrayed him? What would Tonks say to him if she were here by his side? This time, the internal voice that plagued his thoughts was his very own.

The question swirled around in his throbbing head. As the silence around him thickened, an abrupt bitterness seeped into his stomach, causing warm bile to rise at the back of his throat just then.

Greyback. Rookwood. Those two bastards had ruined Norah's life, and by consequence his, Remus, and Nymphadora's lives as well.

"I'll kill them," he whisper hissed through clenched teeth as his fist curled even tighter and he struck out at the stone in his hand again.

A lump formed in his throat as his breaths stuttered and died.

"Ollie?"

Ollie stiffened, turning at the waist, and removing his head from his hands to see Nymphadora, her black robes and cloak billowing in the chilly autumnal breeze, her arms clutching herself as it was still fairly cold out here.

Tonks was looking more than a little confused and frightened upon seeing his rather violent reaction just now. He was beginning to recognize the look she shot him quite well.

"You're bleeding," she stated bluntly, jerking her head down towards his hands, pursing her lips into a thin, rigid line.

Ollie glanced down at his hands. His skin was cracked, grey, and bluish tinged, oozing hot red liquid, sticky and garish, in between his knuckles and dripping down onto the grass beneath his black boots.

"Are you alright, Ol?" Tonks asked in a hesitant, shy tone, painfully wringing her hands together as the fingers of her wand hand itched to draw her wand in the event he suffered a violent outburst.

Her voice was soft. Ollie could only stare at his best friend, unable to find his voice.

"It's cold out here, mate. Will you come back to Headquarters? It's warmer inside. You'll get sick if you stay out here."

Ollie nodded numbly but did not say a word at first as he slowly and shakily rose to his feet, beginning to move towards Tonks. She took his hands gingerly in hers and gently ran her slender fingers over the damaged skin, shaking her head in disappointed hurt and shooting him an antagonizing look of hurt that made him feel as small as a Bowtruckle.

He suddenly wished for nothing more than to disappear. He didn't want Tonks to see him as he currently was at present, an utter mess and a wreck of his psyche.

"Oh, Ollie," Tonks sighed. He furrowed his brows in a frown. "Come on."

Ollie saw no other choice but to follow Tonks out of the graveyard of Little Hangleton and back towards the edge of the property's estate, where the pair Disapparated on top of the roof of Grimmauld Place, alone, where Ollie saw fit to perch himself at the edge of the rooftop and sit cross-legged, looking out at London, refusing to look Tonks in the eyes as she chose to sit next to Ollie then.

The dark sky high above the Legilimens' and the Auror's heads reeled with ravens. The air was laden with the bone-deep chill of a coming rainstorm, the air heady and carried the faint scent of rainfall.

But Ollie could not bring himself to feel the chill, no more than he felt pain, or hunger or…love.

Not anymore. He felt…listless. Empty. Trapped. And try as hard as the man might, he could not relieve his mind of the image of Norah's distraught, tear-stricken face from before. The antagonizing look of hurt brimming in her almond-shaped blue eyes when he had looked away from his partner for the last time.

It felt as though his already damaged and broken heart was destroyed, shattered into a million untold number of fragments, never to be made whole again, if it had even been whole in the first place.

What struck terror and immense hurt into his wretched heart, this vile organ he wished he could rip from his chest to spare him the hurt of feeling these emotions, was the expression on the young blonde witch and werewolf's face as he had shouted at her earlier downstairs.

The shame. Self-hatred at what she was. Regret. Heartbreak.

All of those things and more had he witnessed in his girlfriend's eyes. The emotions Ollie had seen with his own two eyes when he'd looked into Norah Jameson's blue eyes one last time before he'd stalked out of Headquarters, needing time to himself to clear his mind, mirrored how the son of the Death Eater felt about himself poignantly.

So much in fact, that Norah herself might as well have pointed her wand squarely into his chest and ended his life herself, straight through the core of his heart and killed him where he had stood then.

He was sure his heart had stopped beating. Norah was a reflection of what Ollie had always known himself to be on the outside.

And it was this thought now that caused him to look away from Tonks, though he felt the pink-haired witch's piercing stare burning a hole in the side of his skull that made the young man blush in shame.

The Legilimens could not bring himself to face the sorrow reflected in both Norah's azure orbs, and now Tonks's steely grey ones. It matched that of his own sorrow all too well, and he hated it.

"I thought you loved her, Ollie," came Tonks's clipped and curt tone, addressing her best friend in a condescending tone. Her words were more than enough to elicit a response from the man as Ollie jerked his head upright and to the right to regard his friend now.

He felt something ugly within himself rise to the surface as his temper imploded.

"QUIET!" he barked hoarsely in his rough and grating voice.

Ollie was honestly amazed that he could summon enough strength on his throat to shout at Tonks, who flinched away in hurt and surprise, a look of dangerous anger flickering through her flashing grey irises.

His tormented mind was once again rushed by the all-too-fresh memory of sitting on the stoops down below of Headquarters and seeing Norah brought back to him by Lupin and Tonks almost in a state worse than death, almost strangled and beaten to death within an inch of her life.

Only to learn that Norah was Greyback's daughter?! It was too much. Too much for him to process.

The feeling of his heart being ripped from his chest as Norah had delivered the truly crushing emotional blow of the cold, terrifying truth, that Fenrir Greyback had sent her here to spy on Ollie for him.

To seduce him, to break his heart.

Well. She'd succeeded in that regard. The young witch who'd first become his partner, as rocky of a start as they'd gotten off to, he'd grown to care for and love, had let her mark him as her mate, for God's sake, had betrayed him.

Ollie grimaced, tearing his terrified eyes away from the truly alarming image of Norah's tear-stricken face in his mind that permanently burned itself into his retinas, forever haunting him from now on, he was sure of it.

The dark-haired man breathed heavy scattered breaths while he kept his gaze fixated out on the streets of London, not wanting to look Nymphadora Tonks in the eyes at all.

This was all his fault.

The woman that he loved, despite what he had done, the horrible things he'd spat at Norah in his rage, was surely going to meet a violent and painful death once her father and the rest of the Dark Lord's followers had found out that she had failed.

And all because of me, Ollie thought bitterly to himself.

Ollie breathed in and back out again, slowly, willing his racing heart to calm down, just like Tonks had taught him to whenever his anger swelled, but his exasperated lungs could not manage to get in a good breath.

The horrible, flashing images of seeing Norah being tortured, hearing the young woman's piercing scream resonating in his throbbing eardrums as the blood rushed to his head, haunted the man.

Ollie could not help the self-deprecating thoughts of how he truly was a monster and living up to his reputation that the rest of wizarding society had rightfully given him the moment he'd come of age and Father had set it upon himself to cause him to accidentally blow up one of the shops in Knockturn Alley after a horrible fight.

What had happened to Norah was all his fault. He never should have talked back to the wolf the way he had, much less hit her earlier. As Tonks waited for Ollie to collect his thoughts, the man was hit with an extreme sense of guilt and regret over how he'd talked to her. He'd treated Jameson so rudely, threatening her life, hitting her.

Seeing the tears in Norah's eyes as they had argued almost crippled Ollie with guilt that was sure to consume him. His former partner deserved better than that, so did Remus and Tonks, for that matter. The fact that Tonks was out here on top of the rooftop by his side, whispering murmurings that he could not make out into his ear and rubbing small, comforting circles in the small of his back was utterly miraculous, considering how horribly he had behaved earlier.

Ollie cringed, chewing at the wall of his mouth, and running his tongue along the top wall of his teeth, hoping he'd not hurt Norah too badly, and while he knew the werewolf certainly did not owe him forgiveness, Ollie hoped that he could still somehow earn it back, that he could learn to forgive her in time, that she would take him back.

Gods, but Jameson was like a drug he didn't want to be rid of. His cold blue eyes glinted with what seemed insurmountable stress.

He wanted nothing more than to sit within the confines of his bedroom inside and sit for hours at the edge of his bed's mattress, the only place Ollie would want to be when Norah comes back—if she comes back.

It crossed his mind briefly to write Norah a letter, and yet, what for.

He would be already cold and lifeless the minute she entered, with nothing but the air between his feet and the hardwood floor. But only if Norah knew for herself, gods, how much, deep in his mind, that he loved her.

He'd never said that he loved her throughout the weeks of their partnership, but he felt it.

The blonde wolf was a golden ray of sunshine, his light in the dark murky tunnels. She saw through him, drowned him, revived him, and drowned him again. Over and over.

His father had been right, goddamn that man to the seven hells below. What woman could ever learn to love a bastard, a monstrous wretch like him? Norah would surely die, because of him, the Dark Lord and his followers would sentence the young woman to death if she refused to divulge the information that they wanted of her, and all because of him.

It was this thought that sapped his body of what little strength was left. He hung his head in shame, allowing that one stubborn coarse lock of his jet-black hair to hang in front of his eyes, shielding himself from Tonks's line of sight.

He was no longer human if he'd ever been that from the start. Every choice had led Ollie here, to the side of the monster, the demon that he knew himself to be. His father had always been right. Why bother trying to pretend to walk the path of the light when he couldn't?

In a moment of despair, Ollie seized on tufts of his hair and pulled so hard that he felt the roots scream in protest. He looked livid. He clenched his teeth shut in the effort to stay silent and failing.

The horrible, gut-wrenching scream that poured from lips before he could stop himself startled Tonks, causing her to reel backward and a hand shot to her racing heart to try to calm herself.

Tonks flinched and shirked away from the man in fear and awe. It was the kind of scream that bypassed her ears and spoke right to her heart. It unnerved her.

A chill ran through Nymphadora as she heard her best mate's scream, his cry for help, his unspoken words of misery and anguish in that one single scream, all that he would not say out loud laid bare for Tonks and Tonks alone to be able to hear his plea.

In that empty scream was the pain of a man now indifferent, of a monster who had sold his very soul and instead had found Hell.

Tonks pitied him, her heart breaking for her best friend.

His body now sapped of strength, he ducked his head in remorse and shame, drowning in his own humiliation, bitter tears dripping from his lids in steady tracts down his ashen face that held a greyish tinge.

He silently wept to himself as the memories of last night flitted through his head, Norah's warmth slowly leaving his senses. Of hearing Rookwood's cold laughter on the night that he and Lupin had rescued her underneath the streetlamp, seeing the Death Eater's vicious sneer. He should have killed the bastard when he had the chance.

Seeing the fear and shame in Norah's burning blue eyes when the truth had finally come out, her anguished cry for him to look at her, to let her explain, and he'd not looked.

Because I was too afraid to look, Ollie thought bitterly, grinding his teeth, and gnashing them in anger.

Ollie felt his stomach sink as he looked back towards Tonks.

He needed to tell Norah how sorry he was, to know that he was undoubtedly playing a part in Norah's death sent a chill of terror through the man's spine. He wished right now that the werewolf were here in front of him so that he might be able to take back his words. And take back her.

His bottom lip quivered, so much so that he had to bite down hard enough to try to stop it, and instead wound up tasting his own blood from shaking so much at what he'd done.

He truly was a monster, in every literal sense of the word. Everything he'd done so far had just caused Norah more suffering.

How could he possibly help? Almost as if Tonks could sense his thoughts, her soft voice spoke up, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Ollie," she snapped, a hint of steel laced throughout the Auror's commanding tone that told Ollie he had to listen to her. "Look at me. Look," she growled through gritted teeth when he hesitated to.

His feelings of despair and self-hatred only worsened as he lifted his chin and forced himself to bravely meet Nymphadora's gaze.

Her lips were pursed in a thin line as she shot her mate a disparaging look. "I thought you loved that woman, Ollie. You'd really throw away the beginning of something that had so much potential for you because you're feeling sorry for yourself? You could do that to her? You're just gonna give up now or what? I never took you to be a coward?" Tonks snapped, sounding pissed off. No, it was more than that. The pink-haired Auror was downright livid.

A lump in his throat formed as it hollowed, cutting off air to his passageways and rendering the poor hysterical man feeling faint. He shook his head violently to himself, trying to dismiss the dark thoughts of what he would do to both Greyback and Rookwood if those Dark wizards dared to show their ugly mugs around him again.

What had happened to Norah wasn't her fault. He knew that now. She'd never asked for any of this, but it was already too late.

"Where is she?" he growled through gritted teeth. "Norah?"

"She's gone, Ollie, Remus sent me a Patronus less than five minutes ago before I found you saying she bolted and took off, and not to try to find her," Tonks answered in a flat voice, not at all sounding sympathetic towards his plight. In fact, she sounded angry. "She didn't ask for any of this mate, and we fucking know this. There's still time to fix this, Ollie. You could find her. If anyone can, it's you."

He closed his eyes in shame upon hearing Dora's words, knowing fully bloody well that she was right, but in order to find her, he would have to return home and embrace the side of himself that he'd always fought so hard to repress since his father's disownment of him for being a disgrace to the pureblood Brennan family's lineage.

"You know what happens, T, when I try to help! I only make things worse!" Ollie bellowed, jerking his head upright to look Tonks in the eyes as he slapped his knee, a release of his pent-up aggression.

His blue eyes darkened, almost cerulean in color the angrier he became. Tonks stiffened and pulled back slightly to study Ollie's face.

"You don't believe that. I know for a second you don't think that," she hissed angrily, a look of shock and anger on her pale features.

"Tch," Ollie scoffed as he rolled his eyes to himself as he looked away, letting a sardonic little laugh escape his cracked lips. "How do you know what I believe, Tonks? What do you really know of me? What do you know of the things that I feel? You—you're good, you've always been perfect, but I know what a monster like me is! This—this twisted flesh and bone," he growled, angrily pointing to the burn mark underneath his right eye. "You're a liar, Tonks!" he shouted. "If I were senseless, I would almost prefer it to this useless conversation you and I are having right now!" He was panting heavily now, both from the exertion of yelling and the surge of adrenaline coursing through his blood, rendering his insides feeling utterly boiling hot. "My father's words were cruel to me, but they were true. Not like yours and Remus's," he spat hatefully, the words sounding like poison as they left his lips, words that he never thought he would say to his best friend. "Take all of your stupid fucking lies and leave me ALONE! I don't want to hear any more of it! I can't feel anything anymore! Leave me alone, Tonks! Just get out of here!" Ollie shouted, his temper reaching its limit as his fingers curled around the handle of his wand in his anger.

He knew what he had to do in order to win Norah back, but that did not mean that he particularly liked spewing such hateful words to Tonks at this moment.

But it was the only way to ensure Dora did not try to stop him from going and stopping her from following him.

"Leave, Tonks," he spoke in a low voice that Tonks could only describe as a low growl as he spat his words through gritted teeth. "And don't bother trying to find me. I'm leaving. I—I'm sorry that I can't come to your wedding, b—but I know what I have to do. I can't have you following me," he growled, sharply turning away from Tonks.

Ollie inwardly cringed as he looked out of the corner of his peripherals at the antagonizing hurt brimming in Tonks's grey irises.

"Fine, Ollie," she answered in a flat voice numb of emotion. "Do whatever it is you have to in order to bring Norah back, but I'm not going to wait around for you and watch you destroy yourself like this. It breaks my heart to see you this way, it truly does. But you're lucky that I'm feeling in a merciful mood tonight or I would have jinxed you for what you just said to me," Tonks snapped angrily, her expression pained as she rose to her feet and put her hands on her hips. "Bring Norah home, Ollie. And then I expect an apology…"

Without another word, she turned on her heels to go, slamming the door of the rooftop's stairwell behind her, leaving Ollie alone once more to his dark swirling thoughts.

Ollie let out an agonized groan as he lifted his chin and looked to the thousands of twinkling stars, jutting it out slightly defiantly as the wind blew his bangs off his forehead. He looked up and down below into the streets of London.

He knew what it was that he had to do, but that didn't mean he was particularly going to like this, but there was no other way for this to end. If it meant that he could manage to apologize to Norah, then so be it, at least this way, the witch would know he was serious.

As he turned on the heels of his black boots and Disapparated off of the rooftop, he felt a cold chill of fear and terror wash over him as his feet landed on solid ground not even half a second later.

Tragedies, he realized, were a finicky thing. Some bound you to a place, while other times, tragedies could drive you away from them. But this tragedy, losing Norah, his father, was another matter entirely, Ollie thought, as he looked up at the iron-wrought gates of the manor that had harbored many unpleasant memories for him.

Ollie's tragedy had brought him home. As he stalked up towards the gate and waved his wand to bring down the barrier of protective enchantments that his father had surely put up shortly before his death, he was met with the harrowing sight of his grandma.

Yaga, that old Russian Slavic bitch, stood hunched over, shrouded in a thick black cape, waiting for him, unsmiling, unstirred. The edges of his grandmother's thin, wormy lips curled upwards into a truly twisted sneer that made Ollie's insides revolt as she smiled in sickening glee as his grandmother leaned forward and whispered only one word to her grandson as Ollie cautiously approached her, keeping his hand curled around the handle of his wand.

It was only one phrase that his grandmother uttered as she outstretched an arthritic, gnarled claw to place on the small of his back and began to lead him up the winding cobblestoned path to the manor.

It was only a few words, but it was more than enough for him.

"Welcome home, Oliver."

Ew. Things definitely aren't looking good for Nollie, but hopefully, they'll work it out. Coming up, Remadora's wedding (finally) as the pair reflect and wish that their friends could be by their side to celebrate their special day.