Chapter Fifty-Five

The agonized wails of the man on the floor filled the room.

Severus barely even flinched where he stood.

The only movement he made was the slightest of twitches - those unable to be controlled - the after-effects of his own punishment that had been endured some hours before.

Don't die.

Well. That was certainly easier said than done.

Even if Severus was fully committed to ensuring that – on that front – he would not be letting the boy down. Not any time, soon, at least.

It was difficult not to think about it – the appeal that Harry had made to him the night he had left – and to deny that he had been affected by it.

But Severus buried that thought deeply – down into the darkest recesses of his mind, along with all the other wonderful and dangerous memories of Lily and of Grace – as the last thing that ought to be on his mind right now was how he had been moved by the plea of his – practically – stepson, as Harry had put it.

This was hardly the place for Severus to be thinking of Harry Potter as his.

The Dark Lord was as furious upon his arrival at the end of term as he had been upon his departure, some months before, his followers still bearing the brunt of that fury; that Harry Potter and Regulus Black had slipped through his fingers. That his hand had been forced; he and his supporters pushed out into open warfare long before he had planned and was prepared for. It had not been worth the cost – his gains far too meagre that night to offset them – and Crouch was fighting hard and fast against him, mobilizing the Ministry response with a swiftness and heavy-handedness that even those who opposed the Dark Lord were struggling to digest.

Death Eaters had been dispatched with haste – an increased focus on recruitment – and the werewolves hadn't been much trouble, nor the giants, as far as Severus was aware, but even their support was not enough to placate him.

Crouch was making gains, also, and he had trialed and convicted the three Death Eaters that had been apprehended at the Foundation at New Year, just that morning, along with the announcement that their children, of whom they had four between them, were to be expelled from Hogwarts with immediate effect.

As would any other such child who had a parent convicted and sentenced to Azkaban for involvement in Death Eater activity.

Severus bore the brunt of the Dark Lord's ire as if he, himself, were personally responsible for the decision.

The Dark Lord had responded accordingly, ordering the execution of two families. One of them muggle, breaching the Statute of Secrecy and creating some trouble for the Ministry – merely a game to him – and another, the pureblood family of the lead juror on the trial of Sebastian Nott. The juror, himself, was spared.

'Only right there should be one left to grieve, wouldn't you say, Severus?' the Dark Lord had said to him, directly, with a sneer.

The screams in the room abruptly stopped, now filled only with the sound of heaving breaths.

"Out," the Dark Lord said, calmly, as if he hadn't just tortured the man at his feet to within an inch of his sanity, and two masked Death Eaters stepped forward, hauling the fallen to his feet and dragging him physically from the room.

They passed Narcissa at the doorway.

"My Lord," she addressed him, before indicating the masked figure behind her.

It was someone whom Severus did not know – or, at least, did not recognize from the mask – so was most likely one of the newer recruits, who were not yet privy to the identities of those within the inner circle. Or, rather, the inner circle was not yet privy to the information as to whom the new followers and informants were.

This one, however, Severus knew to be a Ministry contact.

That was as far as his knowledge extended on the matter.

"Leave us," the Dark Lord said to the room, at the newcomer's entrance.

The band of followers dutifully dispersed.

The church bells chimed eleven.

That meant one more hour until Malachi had to hurry back home.

"Those rocks over there -" Emma indicated with a nod in their direction; "- my dad would drag me and my brother down to fish there almost every night one summer."

Malachi perked up; "You know how to fish?"

"My dad's a fisherman; it was kinda hard not to be converted," Emma shrugged, with a smile and a roll of her eyes; "Compulsory sport, you could call it. Or familial obligations," she added, using a stick to doodle in the sand where they sat.

Malachi glanced at the rocks that dotted the ocean. Harry would like that. He had been almost obsessed with it – fishing – a few months ago, back when things had been normal between them.

Things were okay now but not like they were.

But Malachi was determined that they would go back to normal – soon – having internalized the words of warning his dad had given him some weeks before. The thought of Harry dying was almost as frightening to him as the thought of his dad doing so, and he, especially, didn't want that to happen – or himself dying – with grudges held between them.

Harry would be there soon – later that night – and Malachi couldn't wait. Even if he wasn't quite looking forward to not being able to sneak out again for the next few days.

"My friend would like that."

"He likes fishing?"

"Yeah…uh…No. But he really wants to try it."

"Well, I could show you if you want. You and your friend."

Malachi smiled at her, knowing that would never happen, but he didn't want to upset or offend her by saying no – and he couldn't exactly tell her why he had to say no – so he just nodded, as if in agreement.

He'd managed to sneak out to meet her every morning this week, glad – for the first time, ever – of his dad's busy schedule at the Foundation that had kept him away until lunch.

Emma had shown him the village. It was the very village he'd lived in for years, now – since the first time Voldemort had fallen – and, yet, he knew nothing about it. Until now, he had seen nothing other than what could be viewed from the window and he found he liked it.

It was small but not quiet, so many muggles spilling out into the streets, filling the air with laughter and voices, and they were all friendly and kind – most of them, anyway – and the food was good, that Emma had recommended to him, and the view was pretty and the company was even better.

And it felt good just to be out and to be with someone who didn't know him and it was the strangest thing because he felt like he could just be himself with her – which, really, he couldn't – but hiding his magical side was a lot easier and a lot better than hiding how he really felt about the Statute of Secrecy and wondering if anything he said was going to be retold to someone's Death Eater parents or to his Head of House and wondering if the next book he opened was going to have Blood Traitor scrawled across the front of it and wondering if the person he was talking to actually even saw him, or if they just looked at him and saw his dad.

The only other person he had that with was Harry.

But, well, Emma was much prettier than Harry, obviously.

And Harry didn't make Malachi's tummy jump and go all warm when he smiled at him.

And Malachi didn't ever sit next to Harry and think it might be nicer if they sat a bit closer. And he never felt himself blush whenever their legs or their hands accidentally touched.

Malachi 'accidentally' touched his hand against Emma's hand, now, where it was leaning in the sand.

Emma met his eyes, giving him a little smile – cute and shy and Malachi liked that, a lot, that she was a bit shy – and then she reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out something plastic. Something muggle.

"I made this for you," she handed it over, and Malachi took it, doing his best to hide his confusion as to what it actually was.

"Uh. Thanks."

Obviously, his bewilderment had dampened the expected enthusiasm she was waiting for, and she glanced away, blushing and looking uncomfortable.

"It's nothing. Just…well, there's that song I said I thought you'd like on it."

"Oh, it's music?" Malachi clicked on, looking at the thing; "Oh right. Yeah. Yeah, I like music."

He stared at it, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to get the music to start. It didn't have any buttons or anything.

Emma was looking at him now, with a frown, and then her expression changed to one of understanding; "Oh. You don't have a player?" She tugged something else out her jean pocket – something he'd seen her with a few times but hadn't managed to have a proper look at yet – and handed it over; "Here. You can borrow my Walkman, if you want."

Malachi looked down at it, even more bewildered by the odd muggle contraption than he was by the thing he was holding in his other hand. It looked a bit like a radio, but he didn't want to just start poking at the buttons in case he either broke it or, well, made himself look like an idiot.

"Um…we could listen to it now?"

"Okay, sure."

She turned, going up onto her knees to face him.

Malachi handed them both back to her, as casually as possible, so that she might reveal to him how to put this thing together and it actually looked pretty easy.

She popped the small plastic thing into the big plastic thing – the Walkman, she'd called it – and then took one of the little round things and popped it into her ear, pushing one of the buttons with a click; "You'll have to come closer."

Malachi definitely had no objection to that suggestion, so he shimmied in towards her so that their knees were touching and picked up the other round thing, putting it into his ear.

Oh.

Music filled one ear; a song he didn't recognize – it was a muggle band, after all – but he liked it right away. But, then, he probably would have pretended to have liked it, even if he didn't. Especially if it meant that they'd get to carry on sitting like this, faces close to one another, as they listened.

One song ended and another started and they just kept sitting like that, facing one another and listening to the music.

Emma met his eyes, giving him another of her little smiles, and Malachi got that flutter again – one that he was getting a lot whenever she looked and smiled at him – and he smiled back.

Not at all looking forward to the clock in the town chiming twelve o' clock and sending him back home again.

"Mr. Black!"

Grace pounced upon Malachi's dad the moment he stepped into Remus' chambers and was swiftly swept up into his arms for a spin.

"Why, good evening, Miss Grace!" Mr. Black tossed her in the air, making her laugh, before he placed her back on her feet and turned a smile his way; "Alright, Harry?"

"Hey, Mr. Black," Harry returned the smile, glad to see the man looking so well – the last time he'd seen him being when he'd been lying in St Mungo's – and lifted the bag he'd packed for himself and Grace, making his way towards them; "See you next week, Uncle Remus."

Remus smiled and nodded from where he still stood at the door, hand on Grace's shoulder to keep her from bolting out into the corridor; "Have fun. You two behave yourselves, no nonsense."

Grace rolled her eyes; "We never make nonsense, Uncle Remus!" She shot a grin Harry's way, essentially undoing the statement and Harry snickered.

"If only that were true," Mr. Black chuckled, nodding for her to go on and Grace bounded out the door, her excitement at getting out of Hogwarts for the weekend evident. Mr. Black exchanged a polite nod with Remus – not a single word spoken between them during the entire exchange – before he followed her out.

Harry wondered if they held the same dislike for one another as Remus and Snape did; but no way was it his place to ask such a question.

He already felt awkward enough around Mr Black right now, as it was.

He was silent for a good few minutes, until they had almost left the Castle and were out on the grounds, not putting voice to his concern until they were about to reach the gates.

"Um, Mr Black?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm really sorry," Harry said, nervously, all that had happened quickly coming back to him; "About what happened at –"

"Harry," Mr Black put a hand on his shoulder, stopping to face him; "None of that. That is long since forgotten and, in any case, not something that needs to be forgiven. Believe me, you are neither the first, nor will you be the last, to fall for one of the Dark Lord's orchestrations."

"I almost got you killed, Sir."

Mr. Black shook his head; "Harry, we can't dwell on the ifs and buts – Grace, hold up! – what's done is done and you and I, we're both still standing here alive and well, ready to fight another day – so help us –" he rolled his eyes with a grin, eliciting a small chuckle from Harry; "and we will get nowhere in that, if we're too wrapped up in being concerned with what we should have done to focus on what's at hand."

Harry gave a small nod; "Okay."

"But for this weekend –" Mr. Black grinned, leaning in close; " – there is no fight. There is no war. Nothing to focus on but you kids being kids – speaking of which, we better get moving – Malachi is more than a little impatient that I get you two back home as soon as possible."

Harry's uneasiness vanished completely at the statement, as they headed on their way; "Yeah?"

That was a relief, at least, that he was actually welcome at the Black's home. Harry had had his doubts.

Mr Black gave him a warm smile; "Of course –" they reached Grace, who was waiting impatiently at the gates, bouncing from foot to foot; "- goodness knows what mischief you three have got planned, I'll be grey by the time this visit is over."

"Grey like a ghost, Mr. Black?" Grace piped up, when he put a hand on her shoulder urging her forward and the three of them headed past the Hogwarts boundaries.

Mr. Black laughed; "I may just become a ghost, Miss Grace."

He led them to the cover of the trees and, after a careful glance around to make sure they were alone, he produced one of his – illegal – personal portkeys and unwrapped it from the fabric surrounding it; "Alright, you two. Ready? Grab a hold of this."

Harry and Grace did.

"Jump."

They were at Malachi's in no time.

The portkey detoured them via Mr Black's office at the Foundation where they swapped the book portkey for an ornamental snitch one that was sitting innocuously on Mr Black's desk, grasping that one with another – "jump" – and that landed them right outside the door to the cottage in Crail.

And once they got in, Mr. Black announced the three of them would be bunking together in Malachi's room and dispatched them to head upstairs to get themselves sorted for the weekend while he made up something for them to eat for supper.

Grace elected to stay and help – or, rather, get in Mr. Black's way – and so he and Malachi had headed on upstairs.

It was the first time they'd really been alone together since New Year.

There was an awkwardness in the air, for sure, even if Malachi smiled at him when their eyes met from time to time – far too polite for this to be them – and, so, Harry turned his attention to unpacking the bag and hanging up the few things he'd brought with them for the weekend.

Mr. Black had transfigured Malachi's chair into bunk beds for him and Grace, and something else had been transfigured into a little dresser at the foot of it. Harry chucked the bag onto the bottom bunk, getting to work unloading it, while Malachi sat on his own bed a few feet away, just watching him.

Harry wondered if this felt as uncomfortable for Malachi as it did for him.

It was a few minutes – maybe ten – before Malachi finally said something other than chit chat; needless comments on the room, going back to school and, even, the weather.

Which, at least, was supposed to be nice.

"How's your mum?"

Harry met his eyes, a sudden, uneasy feeling in his stomach at the reminder; "Oh. Um. She's still the same."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"I dunno. Snape thinks so and…well, he's usually right, so far," he shrugged, conceding the point, and hung up the shirt he'd been unfolding.

"Good."

"Yeah."

He cleared his throat, pulling open the drawer and putting in Grace's folded clothes; "Your dad looks good."

"Yeah, he is. Julia's been here; she's been taking care of him."

"They're still together?"

"Guess so. Don't think they've told anyone yet, though."

"They probably can't. Because of..."

Certain death.

Harry opted not to say the words.

"Yeah," Malachi came over, knowing well enough what Harry meant, and sat on the edge of the bunk, closer to him; "Be kinda stupid to."

"You got scissors? Uncle Remus gave Grace this thing to bring –" it was a unicorn lamp still in its packaging; "- she probably won't even need it now your dad's made up bunk beds. She'll want the top."

"Get him to make her a shelf up there. I'll ask him," Malachi said, before indicating the drawer of his bedside table; "Think there's scissors in there."

Harry headed over with the lamp, pulling open the drawer, and was glad that the awkwardness was going away, a bit. Mr. Black was right, there was no point in holding onto it – the guilt – when there were far more important things to be worrying about, now.

He got the scissors, plonking down on Malachi's bed when he did, about to begin to cut off the packaging but when he did, he felt something hard against his hip and reached down, tugging out the offending item from where it was sticking up from underneath the pillow.

Harry recognised it right away – it was a muggle music player, his mum had one in her junk box – and he frowned, turning it over in his hand; "Where'd you get this?"

Malachi looked caught; "Oh. Uh. Bought it. In London."

Harry eyed him, sceptically. Malachi was usually an excellent liar – even if he only did so very occasionally – a master at deception. Well, maybe that was exaggerating a bit. But he was certainly much better than Harry was at talking his way out of trouble and, well, he wasn't doing a great job of that right now.

Harry grinned, knowing something was up, instantly, and cast aside the lamp he'd been about to open, his attention all from the muggle object in his other hand.

"What is it?" He pushed the button that popped the device open; "You been sneaking out the house, or something? Obviously, I won't tell."

"Well…yeah. I just wanted to look about. And some muggle music is good."

"Does it work?" Harry asked, pulling out the tape from inside.

"Not here. It works on the beach –"

"Love Emma." Harry read the little script on the side of the tape – quite clearly hand-written, in bright coloured letters – and Harry looked back at him, eyes gleaming, with a widening smile as he realised; "This is from a girl!"

"I got it from a charity shop."

"Liar!" Harry pointed at him before he burst out laughing, because even when Malachi was quick with the lies, he was never good enough for Harry not to know when he was; "Who's Emma?"

"No one."

"No one?" Harry repeated, putting the tape back in and pressing the 'on' button, futilely – he knew it wouldn't work, but he desperately wished it would – and chuckled; "She's a muggle. Oh, she's a muggle. Your dad's gonna go nuts."

"Will you shut up," Malachi glowered at him, face red with mortification; "How would my dad even find out? He's not gonna meet her."

"He's gonna catch you."

"He won't."

"We always get caught," Harry pointed out, still grinning, widely, delighted by this discovery; "Is she your girlfriend? Is that why you're not snogging Daphne?"

"I'm not snogging Daphne because I don't want to snog Daphne," Malachi shot him a look, still blushing.

"But you want to snog Emma?"

"No!"

Harry burst out laughing again, because he obviously did, his face was so red and he looked so mad at being caught, that it was beyond obvious. And Harry had to know more.

"How'd you even meet her?"

Malachi glanced at the window, giving an exaggerated sigh, as if in defeat; "She lives over there." He nodded in the direction of the park.

"Does she know you're a wizard?"

"No, 'course not."

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen."

Harry nodded; "You do like them older."

"I'm fourteen in two days!"

"You kissed her?"

"No."

"You going to?"

"No."

That denial was a lot less convincing and Harry chuckled, nodding; "You're gonna kiss her."

"Harry –"

"I want to meet her."

"NO."

"Yes. I'm your best mate. She needs my nod of approval."

"Since when?"

"Since always, it's part of the code of brotherhood."

"What is that?"

"I dunno," Harry snickered, shaking his head; "But I still want to meet her."

"Tough. You'll just scare her away."

"Ha. You're in trouble if you're worried about her dumping you already," Harry grinned, widely; "Tell me about her. Something interesting."

"She knows how to fish."

Harry straightened, immediately interested; "Yeah?"

"Harry!" Grace peeked her head round the door.

Harry frowned at her; "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that Malachi has a girlfriend now."

"Aw, Grace," Malachi looked immediately annoyed at her presence.

"Aw, she's good," Harry waved a hand, still chuckling at the new revelation; "You won't tell anyone, will you Grace?"

"Nope, promise," Grace crossed her fingers and held them up at the side of her face, before adding with a smirk; "For a price."

Malachi glowered while Harry snickered.

"What do you want?" Malachi asked her.

"Sweets. Lots of them."

"Fine, we'll get you sweets."

"Okay. Then, yep. I promise," and then she did a little dance, singing; "Malachi and Emma sitting in a tree –"

"You just said you wouldn't talk about it, Grace," Harry rolled his eyes.

"No one's here."

"You can't talk to anyone about it, not even us. It's a secret."

"A secret. That's gonna cost more sweets."

"Fine," Harry agreed and Grace grinned, turning and heading from the room as she called back.

"Mr. Black said supper's ready!"

"Your sister's a pain, Harry," Malachi said when she'd finally left.

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I know."

It was official.

The Black Cottage was the best place to be.

Harry's stay at Christmas – before everything went terrible – and the weekend spent there, now, only confirmed it.

He'd always loved going on little trips and outings with Malachi and his dad – and he was always welcome, Mr. Black had made sure of it – but the actual visits, like this one, were even better.

Malachi and his dad were so funny together. Harry couldn't help it when he looked at them, the way they played and joked and mocked one another, it made him think of Sirius, or of his own dad, or even, sometimes – accidentally, of course – of Snape and he wondered if he'd ever have that.

Grace had it. Well, she did, before. Something like it, anyway. She'd had a family. Something Harry had longed for since before he could remember.

His longing only increased as the weekend went on, once Julia appeared on Malachi's birthday – surprising Harry and Grace with her presence – bringing along cake and party food and games and balloons and her usual wild antics that he'd missed, for he'd hardly seen her at all since last summer.

Malachi wasn't surprised to see her, just gave her a smile and a thank you for the little gift she'd handed over – obviously, Mr. Black had told him she was coming – and Grace had immediately whisked her off for some fun with the balloons.

They couldn't go out this year, Mr. Black had explained, apologetically, but they'd do just as well indoors.

Well.

Harry had loved it.

Malachi had too, Harry could tell, even though he usually didn't like any fuss for things like birthdays.

They'd teamed up, the kids against the grown-ups, and played Guess the Sketch and Charades and some muggle board games Julia had brought along – for Malachi's benefit, no doubt – Scrabble and Monopoly; but the last one they'd had to stop because Mr. Black and Malachi just wouldn't behave and got too competitive with one another, each accusing the other of cheating and intentionally sabotaging the other's planned 'Empires'.

"Regent Street. I'll take it!" Mr. Black declared.

"Aw, Dad! You're only taking it because you know I need it," Malachi piped up in annoyance.

"Now, now, Son. Surely, I've explained to you the life-lesson of losing with grace, hm? Hand it over, Banker!"

Grace grinned, delighted with her delegated duty, and handed over the card; "That's three hundred, Mr. Black!"

"Here you go, Miss Grace," Mr. Black made the exchange, passing over the game money.

A little while later, Malachi got a chance card and turned a smirk in his dad's direction, reading from the card; "Swap your piece with another players."

"I suppose you'll be wanting Regent Street –" his dad lifted the card but Malachi shook his head.

"Nah. Give me Piccadilly."

"Come on, I just bought the full set."

"What happened to losing with grace, Dad?"

"Better fork it over, Black, your son means business," Julia said with a chuckle at the wicked gleam in Malachi's eye.

"Excuse me, Miss Bradbury, you're supposed to be on my team," Mr. Black pointed out, putting an arm around her and tickling her side, making her laugh and twist to wiggle herself free from him.

It had felt like a family, for a little while, and he was part of it. Mr. Black and Julia were not even bothering to hide the fact that they were a couple and Harry wondered if this was what it was going to be like for them; for him and his mum and Grace and Snape.

It was a ridiculous thought, he reasoned with himself, once the games were over and he was helping Malachi and Mr. Black clean up. Snape would never do any of this. Harry couldn't even imagine Snape playing with anyone, nevermind laughing, not even with Grace. In fact, nothing more than a slight smile that managed to, somehow, escape unchecked was all Harry could imagine Snape allowing during 'family time' with the four of them, and even then he'd probably be annoyed with himself for letting it do so.

Harry chuckled at the thought, deciding it would be his mission to make the man laugh – happily, not sarcastically, as he was sure he had probably done that – at least once in his life, as he gathered up the balloon animals Julia had dutifully made up by hand for Grace earlier that afternoon from the floor.

"Harry, come here, get your face painted!" Grace called over, before turning her cheek to the side, showing off the little rainbow Julia had just finished painting on her cheek; "You can get a rainbow, too."

Harry scoffed; "Nah. Don't think so, Grace."

"Well, you could get a lion then – like the Gryffindors – oh! Or the Hogwarts crest! Malachi's got the Slytherin one, see!" She pointed at Malachi's cheek and Malachi tilted his cheek in Harry direction with an eye roll, showing off the art work, before following his dad out the room with some of the dirty plates.

Julia grinned at Harry, from where she sat at the coffee table opposite his sister, and Harry smiled, giving a nod; "Yeah, alright. A lion, then," he put the balloon animals down on the table and headed over, switching places with Grace who bounded after Mr. Black and Malachi to the kitchen, keen to show off the rainbow she was sporting.

"A lion, was that?" Julia asked, dipping the tip of the brush into the yellow paint.

Harry nodded; "Yeah, alright."

"I'll do the left," Julia tilted his head to the side, and got to work on it.

They were quiet for a minute, Harry's mind still on Snape and his mum and them actually being a family when all this was over. Something they'd decided they just couldn't have made work, now.

"Julia?"

"Hm?"

"What would you do if you and Mr. Black had a baby?"

Her eyes, which had been focused on his cheek, snapped to his at the question. And then she smiled, shaking her head, as if it were a joke; "That's not gonna happen, Kid. Here, turn this way a bit," she turned her attention back to his cheek, tilting his head to the side with a touch to his chin.

"But, accidents happen all the time," Harry pointed out, pretty sure that's what Grace must have been, even if Snape had scolded him pretty rapidly for pointing that out, and he guessed they'd been pretty much forced into deciding what to do from there; "What would you do?"

"Well, I guess if that were to happen –" Julia said, still carrying on with moving the brush across his cheek; "- we'd just do whatever we thought was right for the kid."

She made it sound simple.

Easy.

Obvious.

But it was surely anything but.

"You'd have to leave, though, right? Take the baby away. So that no one would know it was his. Mr. Black's got so many people after him –" Harry went on, thinking entirely of Snape, and wondering why his mum hadn't done that. She should have done that, after all. Instead, they'd just lied and put their lives – all their lives – on hold; "- and they're trying to come after Malachi now, just to get to him."

Julia shifted, but carried on painting his cheek, as Harry went on.

"But, then, Malachi wouldn't get to know his sister –"

Well, that was certainly a thought. Harry adored Grace, even when she was being a drama queen and a pest; he supposed he should be glad that he, at least, got to know her and that them taking Grace away from him was never an option.

"- that wouldn't be very fair."

Harry still couldn't make sense of it. His mum's side of it, at least. He didn't really allow himself to think that, not since what had happened had happened; but, after an afternoon like this he couldn't help it.

It was easy to understand Snape's side of the whole thing. He couldn't just up and walk away from the war; both of them, Dumbledore and Voldemort, held him where he was. And Snape had even told his mum that there was no future there – that this was the future on offer – but she stayed with him, anyway. She actually chose this.

Did people really act that crazy when they fell in love?

Harry supposed they could. After all, he didn't really want Snape to go now, either. Now that he was finally getting to know him – sort of – and understand who he was to them.

"Harry," Julia said, interrupting his thoughts, as she stopped painting; "Does it bother you that I'm seeing Mr. Black?"

Harry looked at her, frowningly; "What?" He quickly realized how his questions must have sounded – entirely wrapped up in his own circumstances when he'd been asking her all this – realizing that this was so none of his business; "No, not at all."

Julia raised an eyebrow, a little smile playing on her lips; "Are you sure? Because it sounds like you have an opinion."

"No, I…I think you're great together," Harry said, sincerely – seeing them together all afternoon, he couldn't help but think it – before he went on, at her doubtful look; "Really. You're like a real family. You and Mr. Black and Malachi. It's –" Harry shrugged; "You're how it should be."

He glanced in Grace's direction, where she was now gathering up the balloon animals on the table; "I was just wondering what would happen when…"

Julia had followed his look, her eyes on Grace as well, before she looked back at him and finished off; "When reality bites."

She tossed the face paints aside and gave his knee a pat with a smile; "You're all done."

"Mr. Black, can we go camping?" Grace asked, as Malachi and his dad walked back into the room.

"Camping?" Mr. Black glanced at the window, shaking his head; "I don't think –"

"Emily at the Learning Centre said that her mummy and daddy take her camping in the holidays. They even sleep outside and give names to all of the stars," Grace explained, in her attempt to sell it to him.

Mr. Black raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Miss Grace, if it's the stars you're after, well. That can be arranged."

"Ouch, Harry, you're on my foot!"

"Sorry, Grace."

"Now you're on mine," Malachi's voice piped up, from the end of the row.

Regulus chuckled from where he was lying at the other end. He'd transfigured sleeping bags for them all, announcing that they'd be having a camp out on the floor of the living room that evening and had charmed the ceiling, so they'd be able to see straight through, up at the sky from where they lay on the floor.

It was a spell he'd made sure to learn and used frequently as a teenager, keen to impress the girls with his knowledge of the constellations above.

"Alright, who knows what that one is; the brightest one?" Regulus pointed upwards.

"That's Orion, Dad. Everyone knows that."

"I didn't," Grace piped up.

Regulus tucked his hand behind his head, before pointing upwards again; "What about that one, to the left of Orion then? Canis Major. If you follow the pattern, see, it looks like a big dog."

"How can you tell? They all look the same," Harry said, from where he was lying between Grace and Malachi.

"Well, that one has the brightest star in the sky," Regulus explained; "Sirius. See it?"

Harry was quiet for a second, before his voice answered, quietly; "Yeah."

"Is Regulus up there?" Malachi asked, curiously.

"Sure is," Regulus pointed; "Right there, in Leo. Down there, the bottom right."

"They all look the same, Mr. Black," Grace said, echoing her brother's skepticism.

"No, I see it," Malachi said; "It's shaped like a lion, Grace, see –" Malachi carried on explaining it to Grace, and Regulus glanced to the side, sharing a smile with Julia who lay beside him.

The evening carried on that way, carrying on much later into the night than the kids should have been allowed to stay up, but Regulus allowed it. It was Malachi's birthday and, in any case, events such as these were rare, and they kids loved it and he loved it.

He loved this.

The stars and his son and Julia and the laughter of the kids, as they wound one another up and murmured into the night, until their voices grew quieter, sleepier, and, one by one, they fell asleep on the floor beneath the stars.

Regulus just lay there in the quiet, interrupted now and again by little snuffles and snores, with his hand tucked behind his head, as he carried on looking up at the night sky.

It was only when Julia moved next to him, a little while later, that he realized she was awake.

Regulus smiled at her, as she propped her head up on her hand to look at him; "You're still up," her voice was a whisper, so as not to wake the kids behind her.

"I am that," Regulus grinned; "Didn't think there could be any place less comfortable to sleep than that mattress of yours. But I think I've finally found one."

Julia muffled a laugh into his shoulder, shaking her head as she drew back; "It was your idea to sleep on the floor."

"Well, who could say no to that face, hm? Grace Potter, she could wrap anyone around her finger."

"Yeah, I can well believe it," Julia nodded, looking at him warmly, before she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

The whole thing, the day and the night, and this woman, and these kids, it was all a thing of fantasy for him. Something Regulus never dreamed he'd ever have, much less experience, even just this once, and he guessed that's what made him think it, what made him say it, as she drew back, his voice a murmur when he met her eyes.

"Marry me."

There was a silence in the wake of his words.

As if neither could believe what he had just said.

"What?" Julia's voice was a whisper, but that didn't conceal her bewilderment.

"Julia."

They both jumped, looking over Julia's shoulder at the sound of Grace's voice.

Grace was sitting up behind her, looking at them, unabashedly.

"Um, Grace," Julia shook her head, as if getting herself together; "What…what's the matter, Honey?"

"I can't sleep. Can I go to bed, properly?"

"Um. Yeah," Julia nodded, rolling to get up, and reached out a hand to Grace; "Yeah, come on. I'll take you up."

Regulus watched them go.

Julia glanced back at him, briefly, but didn't quite meet his eyes when she did, before they disappeared behind the door that led upstairs.

Regulus closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow.

Regulus Black. You complete and utter idiot.