If anyone had told Sirius a year ago that he'd be spending his Saturday night shuffling muffins onto a tray while listening to Frank Sinatra, he would have more than likely assumed he lost a bet. Lost a bet, or was trying to impress a girl. Either option was entirely viable. Imagine a-year-ago-Sirius' surprise, then, at discovering that his involvement was entirely mercenary, that he expected nothing from it, and that it came completely unprompted.

Since Thanksgiving, Beth had obviously tried to distance herself from him. That much was obvious. There were only so many study groups a person could go to, only so many times she could feign being tired before it became clear what was going on: she was uncomfortable around him.

Honestly, he couldn't blame her. They'd been caught up in not one, but two precarious situations that day, situations that, if his so called "friends" had had the decency to simply show up a little later, might have ended in something definitely worth celebrating. But his "friends" hadn't shown up later. Instead, he'd been chastised by two of them, both dissuading him from putting a heavy pursuit on hold until something much more noble was the prompter of it.

But Remus must have said something to Beth too, because she was acting strange around him now, going out of her way in the next couple of days that followed to not touch him or stand too close to him or to generally be in the same room. The closeness they'd cultivated felt strained now, and every once in a while he'd catch her cheeks tinging pink when they talked.

Which didn't make sense, the more he thought about it, because she had been the one to call him a "friend" that night. I consider you a friend, she'd said. It had been a blow to his ego, that much was for sure, because the last thing you wanted to hear after being thwarted on the opportunity to kiss your ex-now-roommate twice in one day was I consider you a friend. Granted, she had said that she would be sad to see him go as well, that she would miss him, but still the phrase I consider you a friend rang in his mind, effectively beating out any possibility of some kind of romantic entanglement.

But friends also did not ignore each other and stop talking to each other all together, and so he continually pressed her for conversation, starved of the opportunity to communicate, rejoicing in her feeble attempts at communication back with him. The next morning, she'd been awkward and hesitant, only slightly coming back to the level she'd originally been at. Only now, four days later, was the camaraderie finally returning, and he was thrilled because of it, which was why he now found himself assembling said pastries onto said tray, if only it meant she'd continue talking to him.

It had worked. She was still talking to him.

He grabbed another muffin, painstakingly taking the tin off of it. "So what are all of these for?"

Beth looked up from the kitchen sink, shaking the water off of her hands. "Study group. We've got a huge exam coming up."

"For your…?"

"Ethics in business—"

He pointed at her. "Ethics in business, that's right."

"Yeah, we get a bunch of hypothetical situations and we get to apply the multitude of principles we've learned to the problems and tell how we'd best solve them according to those principles." She crossed over to the table and picked up a muffin herself. "After answering 50 multiple choice questions, of course."

"Of course."

"And then I have finals to begin preparing for, so I will be spending at least an hour going over study guides, and then I get to start planning my final essays."

He put the muffin down on the tray. "So this is really just a banger night for Beth."

She rolled her eyes. "Jealous?"

"Positively green."

"I figured." She picked up another one and handed it to him. "What about you? What are you up to tonight?"

He looked to her small living room, littered with newspapers and notes, and sighed heavily. "Finishing up with that."

Beth looked over at the mess with him as she picked up the last muffin. "Yeah, when exactly do I get my living room back?"

"I don't know, Beth," he sighed. "The old conker has me reading through old copies of the Daily Prophet to make sure that the people I'm working with here are 'kept up to date' on all of the major events happening over there."

"Can they not read the newspaper themselves?"

He shrugged. "At this point, I'm fairly sure the man is just enjoying me being away. This is getting ridiculous."

"Well—" she put her muffin on the tray and wiped her hands— "there must be some reason."

"Yeah, that reason is he's going mad," he mumbled as he put his muffin on the tray next to hers.

"Maybe." She stretched her arms high above her head, eyebrows raising when she looked at her watch. "Hey, would you mind cleaning up? I've got to head out in the next couple of minutes."

"Yeah, sure." Beth flashed him a grateful smile and went into the bathroom as he began gathering up the dishes. Glancing over his shoulder to see if she was gone, he quickly picked a muffin up from the top of the pile and took a large bite out of it. "Tell me something," he said as soon as the bite was gone.

"Hm?"

"These songs, they're not by the same artist."

"No, it's a mixtape," came the muffled reply.

He scrunched up his face. "A what?"

"A mixtape. My old roommate Polly made it for me."

He turned on the faucet, letting the sink fill up with water. "Am I supposed to know what this is?"

He heard the tell-tale sign of her coming closer, and quickly hid the rest of his muffin. When he turned around, she was standing there, toothbrush in hand and a goofy grin on her face. "Has no one ever made you a mixtape?"

"What is this? A new fad? The new thing all the kids are doing these days?"

She shook her head and walked towards the tape player. "I can't believe this. I would have thought you of all people." She grabbed a box and extended it to him. "Look." Sirius quickly read over the list, recognizing a few songs and artists. "She recorded all of these songs so that they all play on one tape."

"Why these songs in particular?"

"Sometimes they have a theme with it. This one is a list of songs we'd serenade this one professor we both had with."

"Is this the married professor you went out with?"

"Oh shut up," she said as she walked back to the bathroom. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never."

Her uncouth response made him grin.

"This is a good idea though," he said, walking into the living room to return the box to it's rightful spot. "Having all of these songs in one place."

"I just can't believe you hadn't heard of it, let alone gotten one."

He sat on the couch with a sigh, picking up a newspaper and scanning through it. "Believe it or not, there's not much of a call for muggle contraptions in a magical world."

"Well yeah, but isn't Remus one of those half things?"

His lip twitched up in a smile. "A halfblood?" he supplied.

"Yeah, that."

"Yeah, well Lily's muggleborn, and I don't think she's ever gotten one either." He flipped the page of the newspaper, eyes squinting when he saw his parents' picture. The usually pristine Walburga looked, if he dared to believe it, sad, and Orion was consoling her. He watched the graphic move, waiting for his brother to pop up into it too, surprised when it didn't.

Beth came back into the room, but he barely registered it as he scanned the article. "I'd be shocked if James hadn't at least — Hey, I thought you were going to get the kitchen."

"I will," he mumbled.

The Black's son, Regulus, who graduated from Hogwarts earlier this year, was a seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and beloved by all in his house—

"But you're sitting on the sofa," she whined.

"I'll get to it, give me a moment."

"Sirius."

Orion and Walburga had only this to say: "We are so proud of our son and the choices he made, and hope that others will follow his example."

"Just please, promise you'll get to them before they start growing an ecosystem."

"I will, just, hold on, my brother's in this—"

His heart stopped. For a very brief moment that felt like centuries, he felt his entire world collapse.

No. No.

"—article," he finally finished. No. No, no, no, no, no. He flipped back to the cover and stared at the date of publication, and he crumbled even more. They didn't even try, he thought to himself. No one had tried. How had they missed this?

"Oh, Regulus, right?" Beth asked, coming over to his side and leaning over the paper with him. "What's it say?"

He looked up at her, saw her face change from curiosity to concern as she looked at is, and he quickly answered the question that he knew would follow.

"He's dead."

"Hey, I'm not going to be able to make it to the study group tonight." He heard Beth say from the other room. "Nothing serious, something just came up. Yeah, no, everything's fine. Tell Jen I'll bring food next time. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll see you guys Tuesday. Okay, bye."

Sirius dropped his head into his hands, trying to process all of this. The thing he couldn't get over was how he didn't know. How had nobody known, or thought to tell him? Did everyone just assume he wouldn't care? Did everyone not care enough to tell him?

He wasn't close to his brother, that much was for sure. After he'd moved into the Potter's house, he'd barely seen him at all. But other than that one confrontation that had nearly led to Snape's demise, there had never been an actual altercation between them. There weren't moments of brotherly affection, but neither was there any sibling rivalry. When they'd seen each other in the hallways, no inside jokes were exchanged, but neither were any ill words. During his graduation ceremony, his parents had made sure to not be there, but he had briefly caught Regulus standing to the side as he took pictures with James' family. Sirius had smiled, Regulus had given him a small wave, and then he'd left.

The last time he could even remember speaking to his brother was a week before Regulus' graduation, when he'd accidentally run into him in Hogsmeade. Regulus had nodded a hello as he'd passed by. "Waiting for a girl?" he'd called out.

Sirius had pointed at the sign for the library above him. "Waiting for Remus."

"Ah, your tastes have changed."

Sirius had rolled his eyes, but otherwise had simply stood there, not really knowing what else to say. Regulus had appeared to be in the same predicament, and had started to walk off before Sirius had blurted out, "I'll be there for your graduation ceremony."

Regulus had given him a sad smile and shook his head. "Mother and father will be there. Probably for the best if you weren't."

"I'll be there," he'd promised, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. "I will."

Regulus had regarded him for a moment longer, then simply nodded. "I'll look for you."

If he'd known that was the last time he'd ever talk to him, if he'd known that he'd never have the opportunity again, he would have begged him to join their side. Begged him to join Dumbledore. Promised that he'd take care of him, that the Potter's would take care of him, that he wouldn't be alone in the rebellion. They could have been a magnificent team, the two Black sheep that conquered their family's prejudice and hatred. If he had known, he would have.

But he hadn't. He'd been there for the graduation, and hadn't begged him then either. They'd made eye contact, just as before, and still he'd said nothing.

And now he would never get to. His brother, whose parents were so proud of him, who hoped that others followed his example, was lost to him completely, and no one had thought to tell him.

"I called James," Beth said as she entered the room and turned off the music. "He didn't answer. I can try Remus or Peter if you want."

Sirius shook his head, staring intently at his hands. "Remus is on a mission. Peter's… I don't remember where Peter is, honestly. Bulgaria, I think." Beth nodded and sat down on the couch beside him, close enough for him to register she was there, but not enough to seek immediate comfort from her. He cleared his throat, twisting his hands around. "I'm sorry I interrupted your—"

"No, no, don't worry about that."

"Don't you have an exam coming up?" He hated how torn his voice sounded.

"This is more important."

He nodded once, briefly registering that maybe he should thank her. The article was still open in front of him, though, and with one glance at it all other thoughts escaped as the same thought crawled over and over in his mind: Your brother's dead. Your brother's dead. Your brother's dead.

He brought his clasped hands up to his mouth, resting his chin against them. He felt Beth shift on the couch next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

With another glance at the article, he felt bile creeping up in the back of his throat. "Yes, I do, actually, because I found out through a newspaper that's two months old, and I don't know what to make of it."

She gasped and pulled the paper closer to her. "Two months?"

He nodded tersely, moving his hands to now rest against his forehead. "My brother's been dead for two months, and my parents never thought to tell me. No one ever thought to tell me. How much do your parents have to hate you to not even tell you that your brother died? How estranged do you have to be?"

"Maybe they did try—"

But the realization that they didn't, that they clearly were not ever going to attempt to ate away at him, and he shook his head. "No, Beth, don't," he said sharply. "Don't try to humanize them or sympathize or make excuses. They deserve none of it. They don't deserve anything."

Another shift closer, and he saw her hand moving out to him. "I know, Sirius."

"No, no you don't, Beth." She quickly snatched her hand away from him. "You don't know. You don't get it. You don't know what I've gone through, you don't know what it was like growing up with parents who told you every single day that they hated you, that they were disappointed in you, that you were scum to them. My mother blasted me off of our family tree the day I left. My entire family despises me, Beth. And the one person who might—" His voice broke, and he felt tears he thought he was stronger than forming. He furiously wiped them away, knowing all the while that his shaky breath was giving him away, as he tried again. "Who might have sympathized… I didn't even try. I should have. The second I heard about everything that day, I should have left and confronted him and not taken no for an answer." A tear escaped, but he didn't even try to mask it this time, simply brought his head back down in his hands and felt it fall. "I should have tried—"

"This isn't your fault, Sirius."

He shook his head. "Of course it is."

"No."

"Then whose fault is it, Beth?" He brought his face up to meet hers and saw her leaning on her elbows too, closing the distance that had previously been there. "Who can I blame? Who else can I be mad at when it is so clearly me that could have done the most?"

"No one." He scoffed, but she continued, "You do not hold the power of life and death, Sirius. Looking for someone to blame will not make the situation better, and it will not change anything."

He looked back at the article, looked back at the despair emanating from them in the picture, wondering if their hurt matched his. "I could have—"

"You could have," Beth agreed, and her gaze glanced down at the picture too. "Maybe you actually did and you didn't know it," she offered after a moment. "Maybe you got to him just by being you."

He let out a bitter laugh at that. "Yes, and what a compelling example I led. Give up everything! Your family will disown you! It's great!"

"They are not your family."

Sirius closed his eyes, knowing she was trying to make things better, but unsure of how pointing out that his family hated him, no longer claimed him, would make things better. "Beth—"

"If she was standing here right now, would you be able to look at your mother and call her as such?"

He bit his tongue and looked at the opposite wall, unable to answer.

"Your father?" she continued. "Any relative of yours, if they were here, would you be able to look at them and call them family?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"If it was James' parents, though," she said, and now she was shifting so that she was directly next to him, her leg pressing against his. "If it was Remus or Peter or James or Lily, and they announced you as family, would you correct them? Would you deny them that claim?"

He looked at her, and she was so much closer, and his breath was catching for different reasons. "This isn't what I—"

She shook her head. "Sirius, you of all people have been the most compelling example. There is nothing more that you could possibly offer. You've given up everything. You're blatantly fighting against all of the ideals that were instilled in you. You're showing you don't care. And your friends, they're fighting for you just as much as you're fighting for them. They would be devastated if you were gone. I would be devastated if you were gone. Is that not family? Were you not showing your brother that if he left he would still be accepted? That he would still be okay?"

"But for them to not even tell me?"

She shook her head. "I don't know why they didn't. I wish I could explain that to you. That's not fair to you. This whole situation isn't fair. But you have people that love you, that come to visit you thousands of miles away, that check up on how you're doing, that are genuinely interested in your well being. James, Remus, Peter, Lily, they are your family. Focus on them."

Her words warmed him as he took them all in. He supposed she was right. These people he'd grown up with, the ones who had taken him in when he gave up everything, the ones who had shown him that they'd accept him, flaws and all, would he not consider every one of them a brother? They didn't share blood, but they shared spirit, they shared joy, they shared memories. From the time he was twelve, these people had been there for every formative moment in his life. They had not left when things got hard, did not demand he leave when they disagreed with him. He knew for a fact that if anything had happened to any of his friends, he would be crushed, demolished. If anything happened to her, he'd be destroyed.

She took one of his hands in his, and when he looked at her, he saw only sympathy. Not pity, not shame, but sympathy, compassion. This person who had entered his life so completely, who had learned of his past and finally accepted him entirely, who had no emotional ties to anything he was involved in, looked into his soul and made him feel. A thumb brushed over the top of his hand, and he had a momentary flashback to sitting next to her at a dining room table, with his family, and sharing a moment just like this with her. Somehow, this was more intimate than any moment they'd shared during Thanksgiving, because she was seeing him, looking at him with reverence and understanding and something else he couldn't quite place. It felt like home.

"And what about you?" he whispered, his eyes raking over her face, taking in every ounce of sympathy she offered.

"What about me?" She seemed to be doing the same.

"Who are you to me?" Her mouth opened slightly, but she didn't respond. He tightened his grip on her hands, and she brought her other one up to cover his, and he couldn't look away from her. "Before, we were lovers. At Thanksgiving, you said a friend. Am I to assume you're family too?"

She swallowed hard, and looked at him as if she was searching for something. It was so pure, so honest, that he felt his heart tighten at her reaction. He didn't know what he expected her answer to be, or even what he wanted it to be, but the response she finally gave him was more than he could have hoped for.

"I will be whoever you need me to be. Whatever you need from me, all you'll ever have to do is ask."

Their faces were mere inches from each other, and he wondered when the distance had closed even more. For a long while, they just stared at each other, taking the other completely in, both trying to find an answer in the others' eyes.

Finally, Sirius broke. "Whatever I need?" he asked.

She gave him the smallest of nods, followed by the smallest of smiles, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and sure and steady. "Whatever you need."

And this time, when he leaned in to kiss her, there were no interruptions, no last minute decisions, no distractions of any kind, and the peace that immediately washed over him was more intense than any kind of pain. He kissed her softly, slowly, grazing his lips over hers like he had all the time in the world, like nothing could ever stop him as he drank warmth and healing from her. It was too much and not enough all at once, and there was nothing he could do but thank whoever was watching over him for bringing him what he didn't even know he needed.

And then she hummed against him, bringing a hand up to his cheek and pulling him closer, and he was absolutely lost. He gathered her into his arms, and she was giving and giving and giving and he was taking and taking and taking, and he felt intensity and need rise and settle into his stomach. He pulled back, silently asking, and she nodded, silently accepting. Then she was kissing him again, and the pain and despair began to subside as passion and desire settled, and they made their way over to her bedroom.

Later that night, as they laid tangled together in her small bed, her arms holding him tight to her, he went to speak. She simply shook her head. "Tomorrow," she promised, stroking his chest. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

And then she kissed him again, with passion and admiration and anything but sympathy, and he realized all at once that the same person to whom he'd lost was now finding him.

When he woke up the next day, Beth was gone.

He stretched his arms above his head and looked around the room. A piece of paper was lying on the pillow beside him.

Didn't want to wake you, the note said. I'll be in class until three. Maybe we can get dinner tonight. Help yourself to the muffins, though I'd suggest starting with the half-eaten one you left on the counter. — Beth

He smiled at the note before setting it aside, crawling back under the covers of her bed. It had been so long since he'd slept on a mattress. It had been so long since he'd woken up in this state. He felt relaxed, entirely and completely, and more comfortable than he could have imagined. He shut his eyes, fully intending on the comfort of her bed and the intoxication of her smell to lull him back to sleep.

And then he remembered all that happened yesterday, and he realized that any attempt at further sleep would be pointless as the inescapable weight of his brother's death settled over him. For a moment, it was all he could do to just lay there, because the remembrance was hard and heavy, and Beth was not here to help him chase it away. He had a brief thought to try calling James again, but he wasn't sure he had the emotional strength to actually have the conversation. The agony, the ever present dread of realizing that this was his life now encapsulated him, and he bit his tongue hard to keep from crying.

Sighing heavily, he threw the sheets and his agonizing thoughts off of him, and began looking around the room for his clothes. They were strewn all about the room like a mad man had went through them. Mumbling to himself about how his shirt could have possibly ended up hooked on the side of the mirror, he pulled his clothes back on and wandered out of the bedroom, feeling understandably starved.

He stopped when he saw the coffee table, the newspapers now gathered into a neat pile, but still there. His notes were laying on top of the stack. Beth must have organized it before she left, and clearly took care to hide the newspaper that had led to last night's events. Appreciation filled him at the realization, and a strong affection filled him.

And it wasn't enough.

He shook his head as he meandered into the kitchen, picking up his half-eaten muffin from yesterday. After all of this, after her giving to him anything he wanted, anything he needed, how could this not be enough? How, after weeks of getting to know her more intimately, memorizing her schedule, spending late nights doing nothing but laughing, after movies and songs and dances, was this still not enough? He brought a hand down against the counter, not hard, but loud enough to make a noise. The reverberation felt good. He had power over that. With a single move, he could make the silence go away, could fill the kitchen with sound to make his ears ring if he wanted to. He could manipulate inanimate objects to give him what he desired. Why didn't he have the same amount of control over his emotions? When would anything ever be enough for him?

He slid down to the floor, muffin in hand, and leaned against the cabinet. Once upon a time, he thought all he needed was contact. For a while, that had worked. Then he thought it was intimacy. He'd found Marlene, and for a while, that had worked. But now? Now when he had both contact and intimacy, what more could possibly have been missing? Lily had told him to not go into this without love being the force behind it, then had flat out suggested that he did love her. But love was not a common concept for him. Love was something that Lily had with James, that the Potter's had together, but it was not easily obtained. He knew he loved his friends, but how could he compare what he felt with them with what he should be feeling with her? If it was always going to be a should, was it even worth looking at as something real?

He leaned his head back against the cabinet, ignoring the dull thud that came from it. Maybe it wasn't possible for him to love, at least not that deeply. If he wasn't sure of it now, he certainly wouldn't be sure of it later. He wanted to love her, but he didn't know how, and the mere desire to would not be enough. They both deserved more. They deserved enough. But to come to the realization of love any time soon would be chalked up to emotional decisions after an emotionally devastating event, and he could almost hear her disbelief, could almost hear her say, You're just saying this because you're, Sirius. It'll pass.

The last thing he needed on top of all of this pain was a rejection.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he stood up quickly. The clock read 10:24. Certainly not too early for a caller, but nobody back home was supposed to be coming today. He went to the door and opened it slowly, wand sliding into his hand just in case.

A soft smile greeted him. "Hey, stranger."

He couldn't contain the surprise that came from his voice. "Marlene?"

She smiled wider. "Hi."

"Hi!" he yelled, scooping her up into a big hug and holding her tight to him, his previous crisis almost completely forgotten. He could hear her giggling as he carried her into the apartment, shutting the door with his foot. "I can't believe it," he exclaimed, finally setting her down. "What are you doing here? You look wonderful!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're just saying that because you haven't seen me in a while."

"Perish the thought," he said, taking her hands and spreading them wide so he could see her fully. "Look at you!"

"Look at you!" she returned. "You look… the exact same."

He laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder as they walked into the living room. "What are you doing here, again? Did you say?

"No—"

"Did Dumbledore think sending me more notes via you would get me more on board with staying here?"

"No, the exact opposite actually." He paused, and her face was suddenly much more serious than it had been only moments earlier. "I've come to take you home."

He shook his head, a confused laugh escaping at her statement. "What are you talking about, home?" he asked, looking back towards the door. "Where's James? They wouldn't just send you for this, would they?" Maybe he was in the hallway, he thought, and in three quick strides was at the door. "James!"

"He's not here, Sirius."

His hand was on the doorknob, ready to open it, ready to call the bluff and see him standing outside too. "Well then where is he?"

Marlene took a deep breath, and the seriousness that had begun settling in moments ago was now fully present. "St. Mungo's."

Sirius let go of the handle, but otherwise did not move. "Is it—"

She nodded somberly. "His parents. Your parents."

And suddenly, all of the pain and emotion that he thought he had chased away was crashing into him all over again, only this time with a force previously unexperienced in his lifetime. He nearly fell at the weight of her words. This can't be happening, he thought to himself. Not now, not now.

"They both went in yesterday," Marlene explained quietly. He looked up, and she was standing in front of him, and she was clasping his hands in hers, and hadn't he just done this yesterday? "She's been having trouble breathing, and it got so bad one day that she could barely walk. He tried to lift her up to use the Floo Network, and the exertion was too much for him. And now—"

"Are they—"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. I think they've been waiting for you."

He looked up at the ceiling, refusing to meet her eyes, because they were filled with so much sympathy and compassion, and he'd already done this once in the past 24 hours, and he couldn't do it again. But she continued stroking his hands, and his eyes were welling again, and like a wave it rolled over him. "This can't be happening," he said. "I can't do this."

"Dumbledore cut Remus and Peter's missions short." She brought a hand up to gently grasp his arm, and shifted so that she was standing at his side. "They're going to meet us at the hospital, so let's get your stuff together so we can get you there too, alright?"

She started guiding him towards the living room, and he leaned on her, following her lead. But then he looked up and saw the newspapers, saw his notes scribbled on top, and the tears began to fall. Not ones that he could stop and hide like he did yesterday, but ones that began to flow freely. He stopped walking, pressing his hands over his face, and all he wanted to do was sit, sit and grieve and cry because his world was falling apart, all of the family he knew was leaving, and it was too much.

"Hey, hey," Marlene said, catching him before he collapsed and bringing him into her arms. He held onto her like a lifeline, and he cried. Genuinely, loudly, openly cried, letting as much pain as he could go into her arms in a way that was both the same and different from what he'd done last night with Beth. He cried the tears he'd hidden yesterday for his brother. He cried for James' parents. He cried for his parents. He cried for himself. He cried, vaguely registering that the sound was reverberating, realizing that once again, he was not in control of the emotions he was feeling, and cried over that as well. Marlene held him tight, stroking his back, and let him go. Let him lay it all out, let him break without letting him crumble, and he didn't care what she thought of him after this, because it was too much all at once and he needed to let go.

After a few minutes, she pressed a kiss to his wet cheek. "I know this is hard," she said, still holding him tightly to her. "I know this is sad. We can process later, alright? Right now we just need to get your things, and I don't know what all here is yours. I need your help." She pulled back, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs as she cupped his face. "Can we hold it together just a little longer?"

He shook his head. "I can't—"

"I know. I know," she said, bringing his focus back onto her. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered sincerely, and he saw tears welling up in her own eyes. "I'm sticking with you, alright? But we need to go, okay?" He tried to shake his head, but the movement hurt, and tears began to flow again as he shakily tried to catch his breath. Marlene continued to gaze up at him, hands still brushing the tears away. "Three seconds in, five seconds out," she coached, and with a nod he began to breathe with her.

They stood there, breathing together until he finally felt like he could stand by himself. "Thank you," he breathed out.

She nodded. "James said that usually worked." She slid her hands down his cheeks to his arms, rubbing them up and down. "Let's go pack, okay? Let's get you home."

He nodded, and together they began throwing his things into his bag. Marlene went into the bathroom and grabbed the few items he had in there as he made a final sweep through the place. In a few minutes, all of his things were gathered together, and he was standing at the door, desperate to leave.

"Wait," he said, stopping Marlene from opening the door. "I have to tell Beth."

She shook her head. "Somebody will come and explain things to Beth, I promise you."

"I can't just leave, though. Not after…everything."

Not after last night.

"Here," she said, grabbing a pencil and paper from Beth's desk and scribbling something on it. When it was done, she looked up. "Where will she definitely see this?"

He pointed to the living room table, now cleared of all the dreadful newspapers. She nodded. "It's not a lot, but it'll do for the time being." She placed it down, then went back to him, taking a hand in his. "We'll send Remus back, okay? He'll explain everything. Right now, the people who need you are in London. Let's worry about them."

He looked around the apartment, not believing he was leaving it like this. In his mind, he'd had time to say goodbye. This felt more like an escape. It looked empty with all of his things missing, almost out of place.

"Come on," Marlene said, opening the door up wide. "Let's go home."

He nodded and followed her out the door, letting it shut with a soft click, leaving what felt like home to go home.

Beth sank down on the couch, dejected, confused, and alone, and held the extremely vague note in her hand.

Had to leave, will explain later.

And yet, with everything that note could have meant, there was only one question that was searing her brain as she peered down at the signature.

Who was Marlene?

A/N: Reviews, likes, favorites, and all you people just reading: I live for you all. A lot happened in this chapter, so let me know what you think!

This is a very near and dear chapter to me, because this is one I came up with before I even began formally plotting the story two and a half (!) years ago. I've been playing around with the placement and direction of where I wanted this particular chapter to go for such a long time that I can't believe I'm finally posting it. I'm having a hard time processing how far along this story actually is, which must be hard to believe considering I am crap at posting regularly. And we've still got so much more to go!

Nimblescrivener got engaged, everyone! How fantastic is that?

Happy New Year to all of you!