Chapter Forty

"You'd be rather outnumbered."

"Oh, I think I can handle the boys for a couple of weeks," Regulus grinned; "I'm no stranger to mischief, myself; I did have a rather devious older brother leading me astray as a child."

Lily smiled, at the nod to Sirius; "I don't know that it's quite the same when you're the one supposed to keep them in check."

Regulus chuckled; "What makes you think I'd be doing that?"

"Oh, that's a relief," Lily rolled her eyes, laughing as well; "Severus thinks it will do him good. Harry."

"So, he said."

Lily was hesitant. Because for all of Severus' assertions that Harry would be fine, that this was just a teenage strop that he would – should – get over, once everything finally settled and that she just needed to give him some time – preferably away from her and Grace, completely, to gain some perspective – Lily wasn't convinced.

Not at all.

Before all hell had broken loose, she had herself convinced that she made peace with that. Utterly certain that she could live with the consequences, if Harry couldn't understand it, if he truly pushed her away, if it only meant that Grace would be safe, and Severus could be by Harry's side and fighting Voldemort from the inside; ensuring his success and survival in this fight that still – oh God – hadn't yet even begun.

The Wizarding World was teetering on the brink of all-out war – and she had not forgotten the brutalities of that – and they were an utterly broken and wretched mess, the lot of them; Harry unable to look, nevermind listen, to any of them – not even Remus, who had always been able to get through to him – and this was a disaster.

It was all over before it had even started.

Severus was so certain of Harry's inability to keep all of this to himself, of her need to be ready for the inevitable, that he may as well have summoned a clerk to begin the composition of his Bequeathment Notice. His mind entirely on the rational side of all of this, the infuriating logistics of the steps that needed to be taken in the event of his death, and that offered no comfort whatsoever; not to her and, certainly, not to Harry. Harry, who was locked up in the Castle with only his brooding thoughts, stringing together half-truths and coming up with disastrous conclusions, with no one there who understood.

And now he didn't even want to come home for Christmas, his note requesting or, rather, informing her that he would not be doing so – that Mr Black had granted the necessary permissions – and that he 'might' see her and Grace at Easter.

Normally – and she wanted to – she wouldn't even entertain the notion and would insist that Harry was coming home. Absolutely no way would he be spending Christmas anywhere other than with his own family – their time apart during the year long enough as it is – and especially now, when he doubted he was even included under that title. She would make him see and hear and understand, if that's what it took; but, then, it was her inability to think clearly and jump right in and follow her out of control instincts that always, always proved wrong.

So, maybe, she should do as Harry asked this time. Give him the time, the space he needed, to think about all of this and hate the world – or forget about it, as Malachi and Regulus were sure to make him do – for a little while. And, then, once he was ready to listen, when he was ready to talk, she would be there to do so, and they could try and put the pieces of all of this back together.

But, then, Lily had never seen that look from her son before – even in their darkest days, long before now – that utter brokenness in his eyes as he had looked at her.

And she wanted, desperately, for Harry to come home the next month so that she could fix this and explain and make him see why, why she had done all of this and how it wasn't true, the things that he'd said to her; that he wasn't enough, that he had never made her happy.

God, Harry was the only person that had made her happy back then; the only thing in the world worth even waking up for in the mornings and she had been so desperate to get his father back for them, that she had been stupid, blind and too close to it all to see what she was doing to him.

She had realised, too late, it seemed. And then had come more blindness to everything around her, and more mistakes and, hell, he and Remus were right. This was all on her. All of them were right.

And she had no clue, no idea how to possibly fix it.

"You alright?"

Lily started where she sat, on the other side of Regulus' desk, when he addressed her. He was looking at her, with guarded concern, and she realised her mind had wandered.

Lily forced a smile; "Just wallowing. It's rather a mess."

Regulus got a sympathetic smile and nodded, almost politely, but said nothing.

"I suppose Severus told you? Why Malachi's asking him to yours this Christmas."

"Yes, we had words," Regulus conceded; "I'll keep it in mind, if he should join us. Though I doubt Harry would want to talk to me about it all. Of the two of us, Malachi is always the ear that gets the bending; he has that way about him."

"You've done so well with him."

Regulus gave a small laugh, a bashful shrug, as he glanced away; "No credit on me."

"Please. That boy worships you."

Regulus shook his head, with a laugh; "More fool him."

"Regulus –"

He shot another smile – it looked so genuine, she could almost believe it was real – and then waved a hand; "I try to make light of it for him. Malachi, he…Well, he knows the rules. I make a point of not always drumming home the truth of the big bad world; it keeps us smiling. He's very keen to get on down to London this year. But I think I may have to play it a bit safer, this time, and stick to the north."

"You'd still take them out? Even now?"

"Well. There are higher precautions to take, of course; escape routes and portkeys and we are rather restricted to Muggle-World locations and activities – which, granted, isn't exactly my forte – but we'll find our way about."

"You almost make it sound like an adventure."

"I imagine they'd return to the Castle pretty stir crazy if I keep them locked up all Christmas. But I could do so – I'd find something to keep us busy – if you're not comfortable with us going out."

Lily wasn't comfortable with it, not really. The thought Harry not only being away from home, but also outside of the confines of the house – especially in light of Voldemort's re-emergence – was enough to give her palpitations!

"Are you?" Lily asked; "Comfortable with it?"

"Not at all," Regulus admitted, with a wry smile; "But those are my burdens to bear. Malachi enjoys himself, which is really what matters when we do. I try to make him forget. That he's living a lesser life than he deserves; it works, for a little while."

Lily held his look, even when the smile on his face dwindled.

Of all the people who could give some insight into how to raise a son, in light of their own, terrible mistakes, it was surely Regulus.

"What do you think of it, Regulus?"

He tilted his head to the side, squinting a little as he frowned. He didn't answer, just looked at her, questioningly, as if he either did not want to answer or wasn't sure what she was asking in the first place.

"About Severus and I keeping Harry in the dark about all of this," Lily elaborated, uneasily; "You surely have an opinion."

Regulus looked hesitant. Extremely hesitant.

Which only meant he knew that his opinion of it all was not something she was going to want to hear.

He drew in a breath, shaking his head as he shrugged.

"I think in these times, we are forced into situations where we have to make difficult choices to protect the people that we care for. Even if those choices may seem cruel to the very people we mean to protect."

Lily nodded, slowly, as she digested the words.

"You think what we did was cruel?"

"Me?" Regulus looked startled before he laughed, in a wholly humourless manner, as he averted his eyes; as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world for her to ask his judgment on all of this.

There was a silence, when his laughter subsided, in which she waited, and he didn't meet her eyes. His own thoughts seeming in a whole other world, entirely, as the index finger of his hand that was laid upon his desk tapped, distractingly.

After a moment, he drew in a breath, finally meeting her gaze and his own look was guarded as he spoke, almost reluctantly, with a quiet earnestness that he had never offered her before.

"I have seen cruelty. I have seen the most abhorrent acts committed by people upon one another, for the best and the worst possible reasons," he glanced down, eyes going to the hand on his desk; "But my son…I wouldn't ever want Malachi to measure his own perception of the world, or of cruelty, against mine. I know things should be different. I know that they can be. Severus has only ever known cruelty."

The two of them were quiet in the wake of his statement. In the politest possible way, him telling her that she couldn't seriously be expecting Harry to understand all of this about the world he was up against; she should know better. She did know better; she knew kindness and family, belonging and innocence. All foreign concepts to Severus.

"You know? About Severus?"

Severus had never spoken of it to her. But she had seen it; it was impossible for him to hide, even if she hadn't witnessed it on occasion, when they had been children.

"We drink. It loosens the tongue."

She nodded, slowly.

"So, you think I've done wrong, then. In the way I handled this."

"No," Regulus shook his head, his expression warm and sympathetic; "Only in your expectations. We can't treat our sons like boys and then expect them to take all of this like men."

"You think I need to tell him it all, then? Everything?"

"Well," Regulus shifted in his chair; "At the moment, Harry is bound to be focusing on all the things Severus hasn't been doing for him – which Severus won't be taking lightly, I imagine? – rather than the things he has. Knowing it all, do you really think Harry would believe he would be better off if Severus had decided he'd much rather just settle down in that nice house with the three of you, live out the contented family man life – it would be quite the easy option – and have Harry face the Dark Lord blindly by himself, when he returned; leaving Harry to die?"

Lily met his eyes sharply; "That's what you think would happen? If Voldemort learns the truth of all of this?"

"I think if Severus isn't where he is right now when this all goes down, that the Dark Lord is going to win this war," Regulus stated, with a blunt honesty that told her that he believed it could be no other way; "We'll all either be dead or wishing we were. And all this talk of cruel realities in this most-comfortable office will mean nothing. We've seen it, Severus and I; the world that awaits us when the Dark Lord finally rises."

Regulus glanced in the direction of the window; as if he were looking into the very reality that he believed was forthcoming, if they all should fall and be unable to pull all of this together.

"I don't envy Severus' position; not at all," Regulus went on; "He has managed to do for a decade, things that I couldn't do even for five minutes. Things that our boys could never imagine. But, soon enough, it won't just be a thing of imagination anymore; they're going to know it. They're going to see it."

Lily pressed her hand to her forehead; "I should have tried harder. I should have protected him from all of this. If he had never known, if I had just taken him away –"

"I tried that," Regulus gave a wry smile, shaking his head; "Keeping Malachi in the dark. It doesn't work. He's asking questions now; questions I don't think I'll ever be able to give him the answers to. We all have our sins to atone for," he shrugged; "But you and Severus, you did what you had to, to keep your family safe. We all need our reasons to keep fighting. And Harry needs Severus – we all need Severus, Merlin help us – to be where he is. We know that. Harry doesn't. As much as we want to preserve that innocence; they can't be boys forever."

Regulus drew in a breath, beginning to look flustered; "So, yes, I suppose, would be the short answer to your question," he finished neither able to help chuckling, as his tone noticeably lightened almost as if he were embarrassed to find himself speaking and answering her question at all.

"Right," she smiled.

He nodded; "You have to talk to him."

Lily looked at him, nodding, slowly. Surprised at him, and how well he was able to understand it all, not only why she and Severus did it; but the weight Harry would be carrying in the aftermath, now that her son had learned the truth.

She gave him a smile; "I had no idea that you were so wise, Regulus."

Regulus scoffed, glancing away and grinning, the heaviness of their discussion seeming to evaporate instantly in the wake of his smile. The mask he wore.

And yes. Lily couldn't imagine a better person for Harry to be with, right now. Who could see it all, the truth of it, but still find it within himself to see brightness and hope and keeping smiling, in the face of utter disaster, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You think you'll be able to handle the both of them next month, then?"

Regulus gave a downwards tilt of the chin.

"It would be my pleasure."

Harry glowered, furiously, at the letter that had arrived in the owl post that morning.

It was from his mum.

His mum, who had probably only received his own letter the day before telling her of his intentions to spend Christmas next month in Scotland – with Regulus and Malachi – rather than with her – daring her to come down here and stop him, because that's what it would take, and he had been stupid enough to believe that she would.

No.

Here it was, in black and white, the immediately granted permissions from his mother – not even twenty-four-hours later – telling him that that was just fine. Go ahead and spend Christmas at the Blacks this year; she wouldn't put up any fuss about it, not at all.

And why would she, Harry thought, bitterly.

She had her own little family to spend the holidays with, now; and if Harry wasn't going to be there then obviously Snape could be, and the three of them could happily spend the holiday – their first Christmas, the three of them – together, without the burden of James Potter's son dampening the occasion. Or stopping them from being together entirely.

Harry scrunched up the letter and flung it from the Gryffindor table.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked, with a frown.

"Peachy," Harry muttered, darkly, grabbing his schoolbag from the floor and getting to his feet.

"Oh, are you heading for your Defence Lesson with Professor Lupin, Harry?" Hermione asked, perking up, immediately; "Could you ask him –"

"I'm not going to any more of those fucking lessons," Harry bit out, before he stormed out of the Great Hall, ignoring any and all of the looks that his classmates and teachers were giving him, in light of his outburst.

Not stopping until he finally got to his dorm room, swiping furiously at the tears in his eyes, as he sat down heavily on his bed.

Fine.

Fine.

If his mum didn't care, he didn't either.

He didn't.

He didn't, he didn't, he didn't!

He hated the lot of them!

The lamp next to him suddenly exploded, making him jump. And the fright he got made him let out a sound, almost like a sob. And then another. Another.

Until he finally just gave in and crumbled, lying back down on the bed.

It had been – oh, almost five weeks (as if he weren't counting) – since the day that Julia had left the cottage in Scotland and Regulus had failed in her unspoken challenge to offer up a good enough reason for her to come back to him.

She hadn't come back.

Those five weeks had done nothing to dull his longing or his thoughts of her, which was absurd. Even if they had been something, anything at all, their time apart now had almost amounted to the same as that of the time they had spent together.

Regulus should surely be well over all of it by now.

But he wasn't, funnily enough.

He wanted to be with her so, that it had settled almost like an ache within him; whoever set the standard that to fall was something that ought to be strived for, the pinnacle of being, was an idiot.

Perhaps the dark, heavy weight of everything that was going on at the Foundation was causing it to linger – the knowledge that this world was utter shite and she had made him think differently for a little while – or perhaps it was just that he was as weak as he had always been, once bloody emotions got involved.

And Lily Potter certainly hadn't helped when she had come to him the day before, asking him – him – for advice on her family and hers and Severus' choices regarding it as if he had any sort of wisdom on the matter of how to protect and raise a child.

Certainly, his son was the only thing good in his life but the utter goodness of how his boy had turned out was certainly no reflection on him. That was all Malachi.

If anything, his conversation with Lily ought to have cemented to Regulus the fact that love – oh, hell, was he even daring to think it – was so, so not something to let yourself get caught up in. Not at all. Love conquers all, yes, and that – ha, that – is not necessarily a good thing.

A more appropriate turn of phrase would be love conquers everything, so hold onto your bloody hats; because it's all downhill from here.

He wasn't here looking for Julia, Regulus told himself, when he had found himself in the pub the very next night, the very one that had started all of this, some months before. He wasn't.

He just wanted to find someone – anyone – else, that could make him forget about her.

"She hasn't been here."

Obviously, the truth, even when he was lying to himself, was so transparent that even Melinda could pick up on his true motives for being there.

"Who?" Regulus played innocent, giving the bargirl a smile as he lifted his glass of firewhiskey to his lips for a drink.

"Julia."

Regulus grinned, shaking his head as he lowered the glass back to the bar; "What makes you think I'd be looking for Julia?"

Melinda laughed, rolling her eyes – for she had borne witness to it all, the whole time, that first month, before he had swept Julia off to Scotland for a week of pure bliss – before she said; "What, indeed?"

Regulus shook his head, downing the rest of the liquid in his glass and enjoying the burn; "I'm not so particular." He held the glass back towards her.

She filled it up, glancing at him, almost coyly.

"In that case, my shift's up in an hour, if you fancy hanging about."

Regulus met her eyes, doing his best not to frown at the offer, and she gave him a small smile, that was so innocently hopeful, while at the same time managing to make herself suddenly look very, very young.

"How old are you, Mel?"

She glanced over him, up and down, seeming to straighten a little at the question; as if that might make her appear more womanly; "Eighteen."

"Hmm," Regulus nodded and gave her a smile, careful not to be quite as flirty as he had always been with her in the past; "'fraid not, Sweetheart."

"Alright," she did a fair enough job of hiding her disappointment, though her affront was obvious, before she glanced out in the direction of the floor; "Then which one is it to be?"

Regulus followed her look, glancing in the direction of the others in the pub. There was a blonde, who was pretty enough. Another. A brunette. He'd avoid them, he thought – both Evelyn and Julia had been dark haired – as if they had some sort of magical powers over him.

Regulus was bored as he eyed them all. What the hell was wrong with him?

He shook his head, giving Melinda a shrug; "Any. You pick."

Make a game of it. Maybe that would help.

"You're going to have to muster up a bit more enthusiasm than that, Mr Black," Melinda laughed, that little flirty twinkle in her eye again, that he couldn't possibly enjoy now that this teenager had actually made a pass at him.

Regulus downed the contents of his glass, putting it back on the bar with a plonk, and got down off the stool; "Think I'll just call it a night."

Fate had other plans.

"Regulus Black."

Regulus glanced in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A blonde. Someone he was sure he didn't recognise. He gave a smile, anyway; "Hello there."

"Meredith Snow."

Regulus' eyebrows raised, immediately, his interest suddenly piqued.

"Huh," his smile widened; "Well. We meet at last, Miss Snow."

"So, we do," she smiled in turn, in a way that was almost enigmatic and was, certainly, alluring. He supposed it would have to be, considering this woman's job was to get people to spill their guts for a living; "And well overdue, I must say."

Regulus turned his palms outwards, with a shrug; "I am not a particularly hard man to find."

"I think there are many who would disagree with that," she said, with a laugh.

Regulus chucked, nodding; "And are you one of them?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"And yet you seem to know me so well. If your article is anything to go by."

"You've read it."

"It was hard to miss."

"And were you flattered by the observations?"

Regulus leaned against the bar, grinning; "How could I be anything but? It's the first puff piece I've ever been taken in by."

"Puff, you call it?" she raised her eyebrows; "And here I was thinking you'd be grateful, for the tide of public favour certainly turned in your favour in the aftermath of it."

"I never said I wasn't grateful, Miss Snow," he said, in turn, his smile softening, somewhat.

Meredith tilted her head, as she took a step closer, getting rather close, indeed; "Maybe you'd like to demonstrate that gratitude?"

"Ha," Regulus eyed her; "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's start with a drink."

And so, they did.

Carried on with the flirting and the coy glances and the less than subtle innuendoes being cast in one another's direction as the evening went on and the drinks took effect. Regulus had always been good at this, talking his way into a woman's knickers – much to Severus' chagrin – and he flattered himself, that he rarely ever failed in his endeavours.

He wasn't to be disappointed tonight, it seemed – not that it had taken much effort on his part – when Meredith leaned in close, less than an hour after their introductions and her lips went to his ear; "How about we get out of here?"

Regulus gave a nod.

She smiled as she drew back; "Give me a minute."

She turned and headed in the direction of the restrooms, leaving him there to wait.

Regulus glanced in the direction of the doors – the doors he couldn't have stopped his eyes turning towards if he had even bothered to try to get it together, for the entirety of his visit that night – and he knew, obviously, who it was he was looking for.

Who it was he wanted to be with that night.

This whole thing, even the flirting, and just the possibility that he would actually go home with another woman, felt so wrong that it was almost abhorrent to him.

It was abhorrent to him.

What if Julia heard about it, his mind offered up, stupidly. As if she would even care, after five weeks of utter silence from him. She had probably already moved on, herself.

That thought did little to quell his concerns.

Rather, they swelled up tenfold.

Had he seriously let that woman go?

He was an idiot.

Regulus turned from the bar, abruptly, making his way to the doors; didn't bother looking back as he stepped out into the cold of the night and made his way up the street. He didn't even have to think about it; where he was going or what he was doing.

It was so obvious.

Where and with who he needed to be that night; every night, if he had his wish and the fates would grant him it.

And if she would have him; well, he would, most definitely, have her.

Within minutes, he was at Julia's door. He knocked once, twice.

Was about to knock a third, when it was pulled open, widely; so carelessly, as if she had nothing in the world to fear or be cautious about. Because she didn't. So utterly untouched by all of it.

Julia's eyes widened, and she got a slow smile, when she took in the sight of him standing there.

"Well," she finally said, and there was laughter in her voice; "Regulus Black. Didn't think I'd be seeing you darkening my doorstep for a long while, yet."

"And here was me thinking I was the one waiting for you."

"I never said I was waiting."

Regulus laughed; "Merlin Forbid."

Julia eyed him, her gaze warm and she was evidently happy to see him. But, he doubted, it did not even come close to how happy he was to see her.

Everything he had pushed down, ignored, denied, it all came back to him, there in that moment – this moment when he finally just let it – and he couldn't believe he had waited this long and that he had ever even wanted to pretend that he didn't feel or want any of this.

Julia gave a small 'hm', almost of laughter, and she raised her eyebrows; "Are you coming in?"

Regulus smiled, averting his eyes, but only for a second, before he met her look, openly and he nodded, with a certainty he didn't realise he had about any of this until now; "Yes, I am."

Julia smiled.

He stepped across the threshold, his lips immediately finding hers, and it felt so right, that he chuckled, muffled amongst their kiss, and she pulled him in further, laughing as well, and he kicked the door shut behind him as she did.

He had never been so sure in all of his life, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.