Hullo hullo lovelies!
I've written a great deal of chapters 167 to 175, so hopefully I will be able to post those ones in pretty quick succession. I will admit I haven't written much for the next two chapters, or more accurately, I did, but the story has changed a lot from when I wrote those scenes. So I am basically starting anew. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Warning, there is a bit of graphic content in this chapter, so please proceed with that in mind x
Lily originally wished to be cautious, and mentioned boycotting their honeymoon, but James wasn't having it. In spite of the war, the pair did something wonderfully mad and took an international portkey to Mykonos for a week and a half.
"You've taken extra precautions for this trip, you are going to have Auror escorts to your portkey. It will be fine, baby brother," Hermione'd said. James didn't look convinced, but he'd smiled all the same. "You deserve to have a blissful, wondrous honeymoon even if the world is falling apart."
When the newlyweds returned, stepping through the floo in one of the living rooms, they were smiling so brightly that they shone. They were tanned, relaxed, and blissfully happy. Lily's freckles stood out more with the contrast, and Hermione had taken to tracing them and connecting them together in errant patterns.
Minerva McGonagall had been invited to Lily and James's wedding, but an elderly relative—one of the only ones she had left—had fallen ill, and she'd had to stay in Scotland to nurse them back to health. Two days after Lily and James's homecoming, she popped round the Manor for tea. Coincidentally, Reginald had stopped by the day before to hand off the wedding photographs.
"Oh you look wonderful, my dear," Minerva purred, smiling merrily as Lily handed her another photograph. It was the moment they became bonded for life, and the pair kissed for the first time as man and wife.
"It was a shame you couldn't attend, but, how is your Great-Aunt doing?"
"She is doing well, all things considered." Minerva sighed. "She's had frail health since she was a girl, and she is getting on in years."
"That is quite a pity about her poor health. How old is she? If you don't mind me asking."
"She is one hundred and seventy-nine. She has lived a long and fruitful life," Minerva informed the crimson haired girl.
The witches were sharing a loveseat in the Sun Room. A plate of freshly baked scones and clotted cream are nestled on a silver tray resting in front of them on the short, dark-stained, oak, coffee table.
"That is such a long time," Lily said in awe, fiddling with the collection of photographs in her hand. Minerva sensed a shift in the girl's demeanor. She would never openly admit it, but the Marauders's year had held some of her favourite students she'd had the pleasure of teaching. They were gifted individuals who were full of surprises. Troublesome as well, but they brought life into any space they occupied.
Lily's eyes fell to her lap, and she latched onto the picture of her and Draco waltzing around the tent towards the beginning of the reception. They looked rather graceful. (It was shortly after Petunia and Vernon left.) To the left, just behind them, James had swept his sister off of her feet; he was clutching her Princess-style, and he spun in a dizzying circle.
"It is my hope that you will all live to be that old," McGonagall confessed, putting an arm around the younger witch. Lily smiled tightly. Neither of them mentioned that she'd already lost friends her age, friends whose sparks had been extinguished far too early for it to be anything but unjust.
Lily sniffed, and tucked the picture on top underneath the rest of the pile. A tiny laugh left her lips as she caught sight of the next image. It was one of the few pictures that Remus had taken after most of their guests had vacated.
Prongs and Fawn (Lily's Marauder's nickname) were standing side-by-side. A wreath of flowers was around the doe's neck, and her head was rubbing against Prongs's broad neck. Hermione had decorated the stag's antlers with lilies and cornflowers. Soft white and blue lights bobbed about the pair.
"I hadn't realised you were an animagus as well!" Minerva gaped, a hand moving to cover her open mouth.
Lily smirked conspiratorially. "Who said I was? Who says this wasn't a random stag and doe we found wandering around the Orchards?"
McGonagall snorted ungraciously. "They truly have corrupted you beyond salvation." Minerva squeezed Lily's upper arm, and knowingly tacked on, "regardless, if you have managed such a feat, then I am proud of you—and as soon as this dreadful war is over, you will go and register your form with the Ministry!"
Lily nodded, moving onto the next picture. "That sounds like something I might do, if I was an animagus anyway."
"I thank Godric everyday that you lot have graduated, I don't think my heart could take anymore."
Lily peeked up at her former professor with her almond-shaped, bright green eyes. "You miss us."
Minerva shook her head sternly, moving in closer to inspect the subsequent photograph. Even if I did miss you troublemakers, I would hardly say so aloud, Missus Potter. Minerva thought with a secretive smile. She would not tell the witch that the Castle hadn't felt the same since the Marauders left.
Thus, the pair spent the afternoon gazing at moments forever frozen in time as they drank several cups of tea and consumed too many scones. Lily had a tale for almost every picture, which breathed life into them, and made Minerva feel as if she had been in attendance. As she took in every new image, one thought prevailed, her lion cubs had grown up, and she was proud of the fearsome, wondrous creatures they'd become.
The war raged on. The wheels of time turned. The remainder of July was gone in an instant. Riley began a Herbologist apprenticeship with Beaumont Majoribanks in between becoming a prominent figure in the Order of the Phoenix.
At the end of the first week of August, an Order mission went awry. Riley, Lily, James, Frank and Alice were sent to a possible Death Eater base. Their mission was to take them by surprise, and attack when they least expected it. The Order was fighting back, they would not go quietly or be cowed into submission.
The base was in the quiet countryside, far away from any other settlements. The night was clear, stagnant. The battle itself was bloody and unforgiving. Thankfully, all of the Order members survived, but not all of them left unscathed.
Heady panic pumped through the air as they apparated back to Potter Manor. James was yelling, his arms full of Riley.
Lily bolted into the house, legs pumping furiously as she zipped through the foyer, up the grand staircase, and almost fell as she sharply rounded the corner. The corridor was a blur, and when she reached Draco's room, she harshly pushed on the ajar door; it flew backwards and the force caused the door handle to slam into the wall.
Draco and Hermione were both smiling, faces alight as they animatedly gestured to the game of wizard's chess in between them; they were sitting in the middle of Draco's bed. At Lily's sudden, dishevelled appearance—on top of the fact that blood stained her arms and clothes—the pair froze.
"What happened?"
"Riley! Bring all the healing potions, salves—fuck. Everything!" Lily panted out heavily, hands gripping onto the door frame, her eyes popping out of her head.
Draco almost tripped over his feet as he leapt off of his bed. He raced to their Potions room to grab what they needed, whilst Hermione and Lily hastily headed back down to the Foyer.
James and Riley were in the dead centre. James had delicately laid Riley down. Blood was gushing from the nasty wound on her face, her pale shock of hair was stained crimson, the blood causing it to clump together. The witch was thankfully unconscious; she must have been in an inordinate amount of pain.
James jerkily stood up and back, giving his sister space to work. Lily stopped to whisper something to him—he nodded numbly—and then she was off once more. Hermione didn't see what direction she went in.
Hermione dropped to her knees beside Riley, the wooden floorboards sending a jolt through her bones and limbs at the abrupt impact. Hermione placed a hand over the deep cut, her nostrils flaring as she took quick, harsh breaths. Hermione withdrew her wand from her thigh holster, and waved it in a slow circle directly over the wound.
"What did this?" Hermione asked. The cut was clean, precise. It started on her forehead, straight past her eyebrow, and down to her cheekbone; it had parted her skin so easily, and Hermione swore she saw bone.
"Macnair," James answered blankly. His legs gave out, and he fell awkwardly onto his arse.
"Not who. What!" Hermione exclaimed, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Same thing…a cursed blade, it must be. The wound wouldn't close when Lily tried to heal it in the field. The Death Eaters retreated…there was so much blood…".
"Fuck," Hermione swore lowly. James's assumption was confirmed moments later as she continued her diagnostics test. I can't see her eye properly with all this blood, Hermione thought grimly. From first glance though, it does look pretty intact.
Draco footfalls were thunderous as he hurtled down the staircase and made his way over to them. He hurriedly dropped to the ground on Riley's other side. "What the fuck did that?"
"Cursed blade," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"We've got our work cut out for us," Draco replied, heaving out a sigh as he rolled out his brown, canvas, tool roll bag with practiced ease despite his trembling fingers. A myriad of useful potions and tools were held inside. The multi-coloured liquids sloshed about in their phials as he began removing them.
"Is she going to be okay?" James asked, his voice fraught with fear. Hermione peered past Draco at her brother. He'd drawn his legs to his chest, holding them tightly, and he was rocking back and forth like a small child.
"We're going to try our best, baby brother," Draco said. He unstoppered a phial and poured the orange liquid past Riley's parted lips. Hermione commenced chanting, green light shining from her fingers and the tip of her wand.
"Please. I can't—I can't do… Sirius," James stuttered out, his words a jumbled mess. In spite of that, Hermione understood what he was trying to express. He didn't want a repeat of last time. It may not have been his fault on either occasion, but he didn't want this to end the same way it had with Mary.
Draco tipped another phial to Riley's lips. This liquid was baby blue, soft and viscous like tar. "That should stop the bleeding."
Draco grabbed his wand from behind his ear, and with immense focus, he pointed his wand at Riley's wound and siphoned the blood hindering their visibility of the injury off into one of the empty phials. The bleeding had stopped.
"Shite." Draco sat back on his haunches, harrowing gravity pressed down on his frame. Hermione let out a sharp gasp. The blade had barely nicked Riley's cornea, but its effects were clear. The white of her eye was threaded with black, intricate spider-y webs.
"Can we save it?"
"We can most likely stop the effects from spreading and localise it to the area…but I don't think she'll ever be able to see out of this eye again."
"Fuck."
The Black 'madness' as many had dubbed it over the years showed itself on the day Riley was injured. Lily had floo'd directly to the Ministry, and raced to the Auror department as quickly as her legs could carry her. She threw up a Muffliato when she arrived at his desk. Sirius was frowning amongst stacks of paperwork, twirling a quill between his fingers.
"Little Red, what's—" Sirius's words cut off sharply when he got a proper look at her. With wide eyes, he demanded to know what happened, and if she was injured. He flew up from his desk, rounded it, and put his hands on her shoulders as he inspected her.
Lily swallowed thickly and relayed how the mission had gone. Sirius's concern faded into something black and unreadable.
"Sirius?" Lily asked when she finished regaling her tale. The man's lips were pressed into a thin, white line.
Sirius's wrath was black, sinister and cold. A bout of accidental magic caught a nearby Auror's desk on fire.
Sirius was convinced he should have been there. But, Dumbledore had insisted that the five of them were more than enough. Sirius's presence at the Ministry that day would lead to less suspicion within Voldemort's coalition; if they did indeed have eyes in the Ministry as Dumbledore suspected.
Frank and Alice had yet to return to the Auror department, as James told them to directly report to Dumbledore and inform him of the mission's outcome. It was partially a success; they'd dealt to a colossal blow to the other side.
Sirius desired to hunt Macnair down, and 'flay him alive and put his body on a pike before I set him on fire'. Lily's heart uneasily plunged with thick terror down into her gut at Sirius's words. His tone and demeanor were frightfully calm. She'd never seen him like this. It scared her.
Moody came to see what all the commotion was about, but Lily didn't need to say much before he garnered a good gist of what'd occurred. "Leave early today, Black. And don't come in tomorrow. Also…don't do anything rash or foolish."
Moody turned his piercing gaze onto her, and tacked on, "make sure he stays out of trouble."
Lily was not confident she was capable of such with Sirius in his current state, but she nodded and affirmed she would regardless. She could only hope that Sirius wouldn't make good on his promises for Macnair's fate.
"You ready?" Hermione asked kindly.
"Sure," Riley shrugged.
Warm summer breezes blew into the room, toying with the girls' hair and clothes. The sky was bright blue, the sun was stark, the white clouds lazy. Today marked two weeks since Riley's tragic injury, and it was time to remove her bandages.
"Riley—"
"Just take them off, Hermione." Riley instructed. The girls were standing in front of the full-length mirror inside Riley and Sirius's bedroom. Hermione had come to spend the day at their cottage in Herefordshire.
Hermione gazed at Riley's face in their reflection, and the witch nodded subtly. There was a stoic determination twisting the girl's features. Carefully, Hermione removed the bandages; her right hand unravelled them into her awaiting left one. Hermione took a few steps so she was standing in front of Riley beside the mirror, her body angled towards the pale haired witch.
The left side of Riley's face twitched. The witch's hands shook as she raised them to her face, her fingertips skimming over the slightly raised scar traversing a great deal of her flesh. Riley's eyelashes fluttered as she opened her left eye for the first time in two weeks.
The cornea was a milky white, and the flesh on her eyelid was puckered. Riley smiled serenely, the pads of her fingers brushing against the underside of her eye.
"Riley? Can you—"
"No," Riley replied curtly, her tone brash and uneven. She inhaled and exhaled cautiously. She shook her head. "Sorry, Hermione…but to answer your question properly, no. I cannot see."
Riley's hazel eye darted from her reflection to Hermione. Riley's shoulders rose and fell in a swift manner. "But it's okay."
"Riles," Hermione said softly, closing the distance between them, and loosely wrapping her arms around Riley's shoulders. "It's okay if you're not okay. You're always so strong, always there for others to rely on."
"I can't fall apart, Hermione—"
"Why not? We'll be here to pick up the pieces," Hermione assured her soothingly. She clutched the bandages in her hands tightly. She wished there was a different outcome, that she'd been able to fix this.
Hermione's emotions must have been plainly splayed across her features, because Riley threaded her fingers into Hermione's curls, met the woman's gaze and said, "you did everything you could, Hermione. It could have been much worse."
The floorboards creaking by the bedroom door alerted them to another's presence. Hermione sniffed the air. Leather and cinnamon. "I think I best be off. If you need anything, you know where to find me."
Riley nodded, smiling tightly. "Go on. I'll see you at supper. Tell Draco I hope he hasn't hogged all the lemon crackle, because I want some for dessert."
"You'd have a better time trying your luck with Moony and getting him to share his triple chocolate crumble with you."
"Our boys are something else, aren't they?"
"You can say that again," Hermione snorted. She drew Riley into her for a more secure embrace, and the witch's hands fisted in Hermione's old Quidditch jersey.
"I'll be fine, Hermione, and thank you."
Hermione untangled herself from the witch, shot her one more reassuring look and quietly headed towards the exit. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, his body taut with trepidatious tension. Hermione halted beside him, her head falling back, and she silently studied him.
"I'll see you in a few hours," Hermione said. It sounded more like a question to her ears. Sirius stiffly nodded, exhaling heavily through his nostrils. He straightened out, unfolded his arms, and pulled her into a half-hug. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.
"See you in a few hours," Sirius echoed emptily.
They had all convinced him that Macnair would get what was coming to him, but he had to curb any impulsive, hasty urges that had taken root in his mind. Premature action was surely to end in an unfortunate manner.
Neither Sirius nor Riley moved until the distinct crack of apparition made it clear Hermione was gone. Riley's fists opened and closed by her sides, and she briefly peeked at Sirius in the mirror before her eyes fell downward to her bare feet. Her nail polish was sunflower yellow and chipped.
The floor creaked as Sirius strode forward. Riley stiffened when he stopped behind her. There was a gap between their bodies, yet his warmth radiated off of him and caressed the back side of her. Sirius's large hands came to rest on her shoulders, and he gently turned her around. His right index finger came to rest below her chin, and tenderly he ushered her face upwards to look at him.
"It's hideous, isn't it?" Riley asked bitterly. It was a permanent scar that proved that she'd fought and survived, but it was hardly attractive.
Sirius bent at the middle, unfairly handsome features devoid of emotion, and he leaned in to brush his lips over the scarred flesh of her left cheekbone. It was a mountainous gesture, a sweet one. It made tears prick the corner of her eyes, and they jerkily closed. She trapped a whimpering sob in her throat. Sirius's soft, velvety lips traced the line of the scar upwards, ghosting over her eyelid and landing just above her eyebrow.
"I love you, Riley Paddingtonn," Sirius murmured against her flesh. Riley's fists unfurled, and she blindly reached for him, her hands finding the loose material of his band tee. "And you've never looked more ravishing."
"You're a pretty liar, Sirius Black." Riley cautiously pried open her eyes. Sirius pulled back to meet her eye. A tempous of mercury swirled in the ash grey of his eyes.
"I never lie to you," Sirius raspily responded, and he dove forward to capture her lips. Riley's fingers twisted in his cotton shirt. She moved without burdensome thoughts to impact her actions. She tugged his shirt upwards, parting from him only long enough to pull it up and over his head.
"Riles…are you sure you want to do this now?"
"Why not?" Riley asked boldly against his lips, her hands exploring his torso with unashamed abandon. She touched every inch of his bare, warm flesh.
"You're upset."
"And?"
"Riley."
"If you don't stop talking, Sirius Black. I am going to hex you," Riley promised. Her nails lightly scraped down the expanse of his broad back.
Sirius walked Riley backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of their bed. With a wry grin, he gently nudged her shoulder, and she fell down onto the bed. Sirius placed his hands on either side of her head, leaning over her. Some of his hair had escaped his pink scrunchie and had fallen into his face.
"Are you sure—"
Riley's eyes fluttered shut. Some aspects of magic continued to bewilder her to this day. Bonds were an intangible concept, and everything she knew about them she had learnt from one of the Potters.
Normally, she only noticed her Soul bond with Sirius after they'd been apart for long stretches of time, or when one of them was in a heightened state of emotional distress. Sirius once told her he was more aware of it (they guessed it was because he was an animagus and his pack bond). Their bond was a perpetual presence in his chest and he could almost always 'see' the string that connected them together.
Riley focused on that bond, on that feeling. A golden string came into being in the darkness behind her eyelids. It was faint, it flickered in and out of existence before it became a steady, burning light. If she reached out to touch it, it might scald her.
Riley poured every emotion tormenting her into that string. From the low gasp that came from Sirius's parted lips, she garnered it'd gotten through to him. Sirius's lips descended on hers again, and she dared not open her eyes. Their bond was alive in her chest, and grew stronger with every growing moment. She didn't want to let go of this moment. She didn't want to let go of him.
"What? Not going to ask me again?" Riley whispered. The afternoon sun grew warmer and was beginning its descent; it remained in the sky for so much longer this time of year. Sirius smiled against her lips, but needn't speak. He already had his answer.
Sirius and Riley were late to supper that evening. Hermione playfully scolded them for their tardiness. She had warned everyone about Riley's injury, and thus, they were prepared when they saw her for the first time without her bandages. Draco didn't comment on it, nor did his gaze linger any longer than normal. After dinner, however, he shared the last of his lemon crackle ice-cream, and Riley affectionately ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek at the thoughtful gesture.
James spun Riley in a circle when she arrived, and he loudly kissed both of her cheeks with a loud smack. Lily made a similar show, looking her deeply in both eyes before she dropped a kiss to the tip of Riley's nose. She also teased the witch. "Now, why are the two of you so late?" She wiggled her eyebrows and the girls engaged in light conversation. Hermione, Draco and James joined them. Sirius went ahead to the Dining room where food awaited them.
Peter was making a rare appearance, and was waiting at the table with Remus. Remus and Peter were partially bent over a small book of poems. Peter found he needed a hobby to distract him these days, so Remus offered to lend him some books to read.
"I was wondering when you'd show your face, Padfoot. If it wasn't for Riley, we would have started eating without you," Remus said, smirking crookedly.
"Hush, Moony," Sirius retorted, there was no malice in his words even if his expression was severe. He settled in at the place setting to the right of Remus, and slung an arm over his shoulders. "Now what sappy book are you two so enamoured by?"
"A collection of Oscar Wilde poems," Remus replied. He closed the book, smoothed his hand over the cover before his thumb went to the edge of the pages. He languidly used his thumb to flip through the pages; they rustled and whistled as they flew together once more.
"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." Sirius said.
"That is one of his quotes, yes."
The three men sat in silence, pondering the words. Peter cleared his throat, and he stared at the sepia cover of the compact, neat book he'd shared with Remus only moments prior, and he spoke. His voice was smooth, unassuming and sure. "A good friend will always stab you in the front."
"That's a depressing thought. Glad I don't have to worry about that with any of you," Sirius sighed. He slumped down in his chair, rubbing at his temple.
"Are you okay, Pads?" Remus asked, placing a kind hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I want to kill him." Sirius released a haggard breath. They all knew who he was referring to without Sirius having uttered his name.
"What happened?"
"She asked me if her scar was hideous."
"Is it?" Peter asked insensitively. Sirius sat forward, peering around Remus at his other friend. The dour glare he'd fixed Peter with made the boy shift uncomfortably in his chair.
"No, Wormtail. It is not hideous," Sirius scolded harshly. "Nothing about that woman could ever be hideous."
Remus opted to play mediator, and suavely changed the subject. "The most important thing is that she is okay."
"Yea," Peter mumbled. "The most important thing is she's alive."
Awkward silence draped over the room, and Remus uneasily shifted his book from hand-to-hand. Everyone generally avoided the topic of death or Mary around Peter. Sirius straightened out, and sat back in his chair. Remus leaned forward, his forearms resting on the lip of the table, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Peter smiled sadly.
Hermione, Draco, James, Lily and Riley approached the room. The sounds of their merriment and joy travelled vociferously before them; announcing their arrival. The three men squirmed at the stark contrast to their current atmosphere. In their own ways, they attempted to smooth their expressions to appear less strained.
Peter's words lingered in the air. "The most important thing is she's alive." Sirius couldn't imagine being in Peter's shoes. Mary's death had taken a toll on Sirius, and whilst they were close, it was nothing akin to what losing Riley would be like. Sirius wondered how Peter was actually doing. It must be lonely staying in Diagon Alley by himself, and his terrors must haunt him at night.
Sirius opened his mouth to speak just as the others joined them, and the moment was gone. Sirius clamped his mouth shut. He laced his fingers together and laid them to rest in his lap. Another one of Oscar Wilde's quotes came to mind. 'It takes great deal of courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.'
Riley's presence behind him jolted him from his tumultuous thoughts. She'd sat in the seat beside him, and angled her chair towards his. She was staring at him earnestly. Sirius examined her features: the freckles across her nose, her hazel eye and her milky white one—eyes that were shaped like ovals and turned slightly down at the corners—her strong chin and sharp jaw, the softness to her delicate cheekbones.
The war had greedily stolen so much from them already, and it would surely persist in its pursuit to pilfer more from their grasp. But in that moment, despite knowing how tainted his world could be, he saw the beauty. Sirius saw Riley, and he saw the possibility of a future. He had no way of knowing what the coming days held, but he would continue to fight as long as he was able.
"Peter. Are you sure staying here is the best idea with how bold the Death Eaters have gotten as of late?" Hermione gripped the ceramic white mug Peter had put down in front of her moments ago. She raised it to her lips, blew on its contents, and contentedly took a few small sips. Peter's hot chocolate was the best, no one else made it as well. Sirius's came close, but there was always something missing.
"I'll be fine, Hermione. I swear," Peter waved away her concerns, drinking from his own stout mug.
"You really should come stay at Potter Manor with the rest of us," Hermione suggested for the umpteenth time. No matter how much she begged and pleaded, it would not change the outcome of the events to come, but there was a tiny flicker of hope that perhaps she could twist Fate's hand and trick it into taking a different path.
"It's really not that dangerous. Sure, some shops are boarded up, and it looks more like Knockturn Alley these days…but it's not that bad."
"Pete."
"I'll be okay. If Death Eaters come knocking, I can just transform into a rat and escape. And then when I get far enough away—when I am sure things are safe, I'll apparate to the Manor."
Hermione quietly sipped more of her hot chocolate. She was helpless, and unable to change anything. Time's cogs kept their steady pace, and in doing so, she was running out of time. A fact that she was painfully aware of. She had less than a month left.
Before she left, Hermione drew Peter into a tight embrace, a hand patting his head like a Mother would. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent deeply. This may be one of the last times she ever saw him. The bittersweet taste swirled across her tongue.
I want to hate you, Peter Pettigrew. I do. It would be easier if I hated you. I could slit your throat right now, and no one would be the wiser. I would save my brother and sister. Harry would have his parents…but the Vow won't allow me to, and I don't know if I could live with myself if I did. Hermione thought traitorously. She truly wished things could be different, but the Vow tightening around her throat, clawing at her windpipe, reminded her that nothing she did would change a thing.
The war worsened, and despite Peter's protestations to the contrary, Diagon Alley was not a safe place any longer. Nowhere in the Wizarding World was. The Death Eater's were becoming more brazen, unafraid to show their might and cruelty regardless of the location or the hour. Casualties grew, more bodies to bury, more lives to mourn. The Muggle disappearances had increased, as had mysterious deaths. They were living in a nightmare.
One particular disappearance at the end of August rocked Sirius to his core. It was a warm, splendid morning, the birds were chirping, the breeze carried the sweet smell of fauna, the Manor's gardens were in luscious bloom. The Marauders were having Breakfast: fluffy pancakes slathered in delicious syrup with spiced pork sausages. Remus's pancakes had chocolate chips littered throughout them.
A pop hit their eardrums, and they all glanced up from their plates. The meal had mostly been in silence as they enjoyed something tasty and tried to forget about the outside world. Alas, the outside world came to them.
Hermione had not seen Kreacher in years, but even though he was twenty years younger than the House Elf she'd known, he looked ancient, and downright miserable. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. The gunny sack that had been fashioned into his clothes was large on his bony frame. His knees were knobby and his feet turned inwards, his nails were yellow and jaggedly sharp.
"Kreacher?" Sirius asked aloud, his fork dropped onto his plate with a clatter.
The House Elf folded his hands together, holding them close to his front as he sneered at the room's occupants. "Filthy blood traitors and mudbloods—"
"I will remove your treacherous tongue if you say another derogatory word about the people in this room," Sirius warned.
Kreacher looked displeased by the cautionary statement, and bared his teeth as he relayed the information he'd come to impart upon them. "Kreacher is only here because Master Regulus requested it." Kreacher's eyes landed on Draco, and they narrowed. He was most likely trying to place the boy amongst the Black family but was drawing a blank.
"Reggie did?"
"In the event of his death, I am to inform you of his passing. That is all." The House Elf's words were jagged, uneven and thick with unbridled emotion. They blinked, and another pop sounded. Kreacher was gone in the same abrupt fashion he'd arrived.
"What did he say?" Sirius asked hollowly. They were all cemented in place, statues made of morbid shock.
The estranged brothers hadn't been close in years, but Sirius still held great affection for his younger sibling. One of his only true regrets in life was that he hadn't fought harder to get Regulus out of the tarnished household he'd left behind. That Regulus had become a Death Eater. A fact that was confirmed by crucial Order intel they'd gotten several months ago.
At the end of August, Regulus Black disappeared without a trace, without a murmuration of where he'd gone. The servient bond Kreacher had with his Master was severed. The Black family tapestry updated with a date of Death for the youngest member of its Ancient and Noble house.
Twenty minutes after the news had been delivered, Hermione leaned against the frame of the sole window in the Dining Room; staring listlessly outside. Sirius's muted yelling buzzed against her ears, but she didn't register a syllable. James, Draco and Remus were trying to calm him down. Riley and Lily were cleaning up their Breakfast dishes; they'd all lost their appetite, and so half-eaten plates of food were going to go to waste.
Hermione tuned back in at the wrong moment. Sirius'd collapsed in Draco's arms, clutching at his plum, cashmere jumper. "He can't be dead. He just can't be." Sirius sobbed and wailed, the broken sounds rattled around Hermione's head.
Hermione stared out the window, her eyes drying out, and her vision blurred. And so the wheels of time turned; awaiting no mortal.