Chapter Six

Lily was shattered by the time the research project commenced the following week; and her exhaustion rendered her almost as useless as she had feared she would be in the first place. She had spent the past week with her nose in textbooks and articles, attempting to gather the foundation she would need to be able to effectively contribute. She had been able to provide some input to the discussion earlier, at least, and was just finishing off investigating the materials that Heart had decided to look over with her.

She was certain she'd simply collapse the minute she got home and not wake again until she had to be back in the next morning. That thought was most appealing, as she tiredly made her way down the corridor, preparing to head home.

"Mrs Potter!"

She stopped at the sound of the familiar voice and, with a confused frown, turned to see Severus was walking down the hall towards her. She had barely seen him at all that day; following the first discussion that morning he, along with the two Apothecaries in their team, had left to carry out some experimental potions.

She was too exhausted to be nervous about his presence and offered a smile; "Professor Snape."

To her surprise, he smiled slightly in response, "How did you find your first day?"

Lily raised a hand, concealing a yawn, "It was interesting. Heart and Ellison seemed pleased."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. He glanced around, shifting slightly on the spot, before he continued, "I have some other articles," she frowned slightly, so he went on; "They have more in depth information about the issues we'll be dealing with. I –" he looked uncertain suddenly, and appeared to be avoiding looking directly at her "- thought they might be of interest."

The idea of reading yet more articles almost made her groan out loud but, surprised that he had went to the trouble, she nodded; "Yes. Yes, they would. Thank you."

His lip twitched in a very brief, almost imperceptible smile, before he nodded back down the hall; "They're in my office. Would you like them now?"

She nodded and followed as he led the way down the hall. They walked along in silence until they reached his office and she stayed close to the door when they finally reached it. She glanced around again, more curious this time that she had been the first time she had been. There was very little in the room in the form of personal items; only a photograph of Severus and Regulus on the desk gave indication of the owner of the room.

She cleared her throat and attempted to clear her mind of the haziness that sleep-deprivation had rewarded her; "How did the experiments go?"

Severus, who was rummaging through piles of paper and parchment, didn't look up when he answered; "Dead ends. The second experiment we discussed, using grippers root, appeared to be successful; however it would be too dangerous when mixed with flossbery."

"If it were too dangerous why consider it?" she asked with a frown.

"Butterman – have you met Felix Butterman?" he looked up suddenly, and she found herself startled to suddenly be looking straight into his eyes and averted hers quickly, " – the Herbologist assigned to this project," he elaborated, drawing her eyes back to his. She nodded, remembering the old man from the introductory meeting; " – well, he never informed us of the danger until after we had already carried out the experiment," he stated, before turning his attention back to the papers he had been looking through, "We can only be grateful he had decided to tell us then, rather than waiting until after we had already added the second ingredient."

"I see," she stepped forward. She glanced around the room again, unsuccessfully trying to find some conversation topics; "Have you worked here long?"

"Since the organisation was founded; I was not as involved in earlier years as I am now. It began very small, however expanded rapidly as awareness about it grew."

Lily nodded; she knew that from her research into the organisation.

"I've heard that there's a lot of interest in the foundation," she drew on her previous knowledge, "And that it's never short of willing investors."

Severus hesitated a moment and nodded; "Yes. However investments are rarely accepted. Donations are always welcome; though they are not relied on for the organisation's survival," he glanced at her, "I assume you are aware of the identity of the founder?"

Lily only nodded in response, his question more of a statement than a question. Being the sole heir to the Black family fortune, Regulus Black was more than financially equipped to fund the foundation without any outside help.

"Were the textbooks helpful?" Severus was looking at her again.

She smiled, hoping to convey the gratitude that was lacking the previous week when he had given them to her; "Yes, very. Thank you."

His eyes remained on her for a moment, almost searchingly, before he looked back down at the papers he had gathered. He stepped around his desk, keeping his eyes on the articles as he approached; "These really just expand on the information you would have gained in the textbooks; particularly regarding the effects and uses of perrilace vine and tarnweed," he handed the articles to her; "I believe we shall be investigating those further in the future, therefore it would be beneficial to familiarise yourself with them."

Lily leafed through the papers in her hand, briefly glancing over the information he had given her, before she gave him a tentative smile; "Thank you. I...I'm really grateful to you for looking these up for me." And couldn't help wondering to herself whyhe was helping her. After all, they were hardly friends.

Severus looked almost embarrassed and waved a hand, dismissively, stepping back from her awkwardly, "I came across them by chance," he was looking at her, but avoiding her eyes; "I assumed they would be of use," he appeared to be thinking carefully before he spoke; "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is aware of the necessary information for the project." He seemed to have pleased himself with his conclusion and finally met her eyes.

She nodded, glancing back down at them, before back at him, "Nevertheless, I appreciate it."

He never reacted to her statement and the two of them found themselves in that same uncomfortable silence that had come over them during their first meeting alone the previous week. She hesitated a moment, wondering her to make her exit; she didn't want to repeat herself by thanking him again. And to simply turn and leave would hardly be appropriate...

"Well, if you don't mind," Severus turned and made his way to his desk, "I have some things to get through before returning to Hogwarts this evening."

Lily nodded, thankful for the dismissal; "Of course, I won't take up anymore of your time," she glanced at the door, then back at him. He had taken a seat behind his desk, but had his eyes on her. She lifted a hand slightly in farewell; "I'll see you tomorrow," she stated, before she turned and made her way from the room. She thought she heard his response, slightly softer in tone than before, so similar to the one she had often heard from him as a child, bidding her goodbye as she left and felt a strange tug within her, as old memories came back to her.

Memories of a girl and boy who had played and told stories to one another; who had shared their hopes and dreams and their fears; best friends who trusted one another explicitly. It was hard to imagine that they were once those children.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Regulus wasn't sure the last time he had be there.

Perhaps four weeks?

Maybe longer, if he were honest.

He had come by the week before but hadn't made himself known. One glance was usually all it took from those innocent blue eyes to send him reeling. He hadn't been feeling particularly strong that day – though he never felt all that strong on days normally – and, he supposed, that was probably why he'd found himself on the corner, his eyes upon them, wishing he could simply just go to them.

But he hadn't.

Regulus had turned – as he often did – and left before the little boy could see him.

Regulus could see him now, digging about in the mud with his spade, attempting to mimic his mother's movements.

She was there also – Evelyn – planting some bulbs in the garden.

He had been watching them unseen for the past half an hour, already, wondering which would be the first to drive him away this time; all-too-familiar guilt or cowardice.

Or perhaps this day would be one of the days where neither of the two won out and, instead, he would go to them.

Regulus had set out determined – determined – that today would be one of those days and so he mustered up all of his strength and pushed aside the branches of the bushes that were concealing him and made his way towards the cottage.

Neither of the two noticed his approach until he reached the gate – the sound of it screeching as he pushed it open attracted both their attention – and they raised their heads, turning in his direction.

Evelyn's curious expression changed quickly – barely offered him anything as he stepped into the garden – while the boy tilted his head to the side, regarding him for a moment as if he were a stranger, before his eyes widened in recognition.

"Dad!"

Malachi ran to him, his smile beaming, arms outstretched.

Regulus couldn't help smiling in response – at the unconditional adoration in his little boy's eyes as he hurried to him – leaning down and lifting him into a hug as the five year old reached him.

"Hey, Beansprout," Regulus leaned back, still holding him, "Oh! Let me see you," he pressed his forehead to his; "You can't have grown again!"

"I have," his son announced proudly, looking over at his mum, "Mum measured me this morning!"

Malachi looked back at him with a frown, "You were away long again."

Regulus nodded, putting him down on the ground and ruffling his hair, "Yes I was. Working hard, just like your mum."

He looked over at Evelyn, who had now stood and was wiping the mud from her hands with a cloth. As if she sensed his eyes on her, she glanced over at him, barely meeting his eyes.

"It's chicken for supper," she lifted the spade she had been using from the ground, still not looking at him as she continued, "I know you're not keen on it, but I didn't know you'd be back tonight."

"Chicken's fine," he said, his tone apologetic.

"I started lessons last week, Dad," Regulus felt Malachi tug on his sleeve, drawing his attention; "Miss Quinn's been teaching me French. I can show you when we get inside," his grip on his sleeve tightened, pulling him in the direction of the cottage.

Regulus smiled at his son's excitement and looked over at Evelyn, who was following close behind, "I heard that there have been some problems at Quarifields."

"Nothing too unusual," Evelyn said, distantly, still not warm, but not quite cold; "There's been some problems with the quality of produce from some suppliers, but it doesn't concern my stock."

"Were you investigated?"

"Of course."

Regulus felt himself become irritated that her integrity had been called into question.

"You wouldn't face problems like that if you worked for the Foundation."

"Worked for you, you mean," her tone was clipped, "I'm happy where I am, thank you."

Regulus felt the grip his son had on his sleeve loosen slightly, as Malachi glanced uneasily between the two of them, quickly picking up on the tension in his mother's statement. He saw Evelyn smile reassuringly at him and it was only then that he felt Malachi's grip tighten once again.

Regulus felt a strange feeling of jealously rise within him at the boy's obvious favour of his mother's opinion and then shook it away.

Of course, Malachi felt closer to his mother. It's not as if you're a devoted father, he told himself, and he could almost hear Severus' voice in his ear telling him the same thing.

Regulus made to follow Evelyn as she went through the hallway into the kitchen but was stopped by his son's grip on him tightening.

"In here, Dad," he drew him into the living room.

He was grateful for his son's interference. He doubted Evelyn would come out and have a real confrontation with him about his absences, she rarely did that anymore, but from her earlier response to him he got the feeling that she was more irritable than usual for them.

"That's 'la fleur'," Malachi held a card up to him, with a large letter F and a picture of a flower beneath it. Regulus smiled and nodded that he was right – not that he knew anything about speaking French - and his son smiled brighter and began going through the rest of his cards, waiting for his father's praise and approval after each one.

The two of them carried on that way until Evelyn called them through to dinner – which was quiet and quickly finished – before Malachi had dragged them back to the living room and demanded their attention for the next hour until Evelyn had shooed him off to bed.

Sometimes it was easy to lose himself in his son. To forget everything that had happened and everything he had done.

In those moments, Regulus could just be himself and watch him play – joining in and making his little boy squeal with laugher – and teach him new things without a second thought to the world just outside the window.

But it wasn't always like that.

In fact, it was rarely like that.

Most of the time he spent with his son, and with Evelyn, he couldn't help thinking about the war.

One minute he would be caught up teasing and tickling his son and the next his mind would wonder just how many father's he had killed. How many families had he torn apart? How many little boys had he robbed of these moments?

The same thoughts came to him when he was with Evelyn. How many widows had he made? How many lovers had he separated, only to be reunited again in death?

The guilt that came over him was unbearable at those moments.

Guilt was something that he could never escape. It hung over him, a shadow wherever he went. Whether he was at home or at the Foundation. When he was visiting his clients or with his cousins and their families. Even when he was with Severus.

It was always there.

But it was always worse when he was with them: Evelyn and Malachi.

Evelyn never understood.

He had fallen in love with her during the war – before he had went to Dumbledore – and he had been with her when he was at his worst. When he had been a Death Eater – utterly and completely. Like Lucius and Severus, she had seen him at his worst. He couldn't explain why he found it harder to be around her, than it was to be around the others. Perhaps it was because they had carried out the same deeds; that they were just as culpable as he.

When he was with Evelyn he felt ashamed.

Those feelings of remorse so strong it overwhelmed him.

But that wasn't all he felt when he was with her; he still wanted her. He loved her as much now as he did back then. And that's why he kept coming back, even though he sometimes – most of the time – couldn't bear even to be near her. He had reasoned with himself, had promised himself in the past that he would let her go.

It wasn't fair to keep her when he couldn't commit to her.

And then Malachi had come along and the option of leaving her was gone.

Sometimes he wondered why Evelyn didn't leave him. She wouldn't have to leave. She would just have to move on. Find another. But she never did. She was always waiting. Waiting for something he didn't know if he'd ever be able to give her.

But Regulus never said that. And they never spoke about it. She was too scared of what he would say. He was too selfish to give her up.

He didn't want her to walk away.

Sometimes that fear of losing her was enough to override the remorse he felt over the war.

Regulus watched her as she moved around the kitchen, from where he sat at the table, putting away various items that had been brought out for dinner. She had warmed to him, slightly, as the evening progressed, offering him the occasional smile whenever Malachi did something particularly amusing.

She never held grudges. He always marvelled at how she could simply leave the past in the past and live for the day. She never cared about tomorrow, either.

Regulus swallowed and stood, stepping up behind her.

He noticed her tense slightly, but she continued folding the dish cloths without responding. Cautiously, he placed his hands on her sides and pressed a kiss to the back of her head, letting his lips linger there a moment as he breathed in the scent of her. She stilled; neither pushing him away nor encouraging him.

"I missed you," he murmured into her hair.

She didn't say anything; simply stood there as he leaned into her, as if contemplating carefully what to do next. There was no need. They both already knew. This was simply normality for them now.

A cycle.

He would leave. He would come back. He would spend time with Malachi. They would be left alone. He would go to her and she...

Evelyn turned – his hands remaining on her sides as she did – and faced him.

She had that same hurt look in her eyes she always did when he saw her. He saw the questions she would never ask. He saw the anger and the uncertainty. And he saw how much she loved him. She sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest, her invitation.

He slid his arms around her and pressed another kiss to her forehead, before reaching up to stroke her hair. He never really knew what to say at these times and, from her consistent silences, he assumed she felt the same. It was always easier in the morning. But then it wasn't. Because she knew he'd leave again soon and by that point the remorse that plagued him was already seeping back into his consciousness.

These moments were precious.

Those were his thoughts as Evelyn leaned up and claimed his lips with hers.

For now, he was forgiven.