Chapter 59

Love fades.

It wasn't exactly meant as words of comfort – though she did try to draw on it for some, now – the statement her mother had drummed it into her from the age of ten, when her father had up and bailed on them. Rather, it was an assertion – and a warning – that Julia not follow in the same footsteps and find herself with nothing years and years down the line, having given all of herself away for someone else because no one else was worth that.

The world according to mum.

Julia ran a hand through her hair, trying to push any and all thoughts of love and marriage away, as she stepped around Lily's bed, carrying out her routine daily checks before she headed home for the day.

Love fades.

Julia had her doubts about that. Her days began and ended with the feeling – the first thing she felt in the morning and last thing at night – and they had done for months now, and it was certainly not dimming with time.

But then all marriages started somewhere, and she had watched her parents' marriage crumble and fall, and their circumstances had been entirely ordinary.

Julia drew in a breath, giving her head a shake, as if that might shake all the love – and the heartache – away; but, obviously, it didn't.

Instead, she found herself longing for Regulus Black's arms and his words and his promises – that she'd never, in a million years, actually expected – while attempting to remind herself just how dangerously close she had come to doing something so, ridiculously, stupid. Everything she'd worked for. Gone in a flash. Because she knew, that if Regulus had actually demonstrated any faith at all in the idea that the two of them could actually make it, she would have thrown it all away.

Love fades.

She wished it would damn well hurry up about it.

Lily stirred.

Julia's eyes lifted from the parchment she had been scribbling down on, frowning a little; "Lil'?"

Lily's eyes flickered open.

Julia quickly put aside the chart, stepping towards her; "Hey, Honey. Can you hear me?"

Lily's eyes met hers. Her voice a whisper; "J…Jules?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me."

"Harry," Lily said, repeating the same question she'd asked the last time she'd woken – before promptly drifting back off – but with a quick wave of her wand, Julia could ascertain that she was with them now, this time, properly.

"He's good," Julia assured her; "He's good. He's at Hogwarts."

"Grace?"

"She's with Remus. At the Castle."

Lily frowned, past her confusion; "Bu…Severus?"

Julia hesitated.

And, suddenly, so many things started to make sense.

Julia glanced at the door, quickly, and flicked her wand, so that it shut, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Lily's hand in hers; "Honey, listen. Grace, she's…she's with Remus at the Castle just now, with Harry. Everyone knows now that he's her father, alright?"

Lily frowned, looking even more bewildered.

Julia went on; "I'm going to send him a message now, okay? I'll get him to bring the kids; he'll explain everything."

Lily nodded, slowly.

Julia got to her feet and hurried from the room.

Malachi wished the ground would swallow him up, as he made his way down the corridor.

He wished he'd accepted his dad's offer to just keep him home.

Everyone knew about Emma.

He'd been back less than an hour before his dormmates brought it up, a mix of insults and lewd questions thrown his way about his father's disappointment and faux-curious enquires as to what mud tasted like, the statements going on and on until Malachi had drawn his curtains and cast a silencing spell upon his bed.

He just lay there in the dark as the tears came, once more, and he wished for home. But he didn't - no way, no matter how much his dad had insisted that he do – go to Severus to tell him what was going on and ask him to send him back.

He hadn't seen Harry yet.

That was a tiny bit of light that awaited with his return to school, but, even then, Harry knew Emma, too, and he'd probably ask questions.

Malachi didn't want to answer questions.

He didn't want to think about how foolish and careless he'd been; how he'd actually gotten Emma killed. He should have known better.

He did know better.

"Hey, Black."

Malachi looked up, suddenly, at the – somewhat - warm greeting.

It was Ron.

"Um. Hey, Ron," Malachi said, surprised, for he only ever spoke to him when he was with Harry.

Ron gave him a smile – a smile – and carried on by him with Hermione, who also cast a smile – a sympathetic one – his way as they passed.

Obviously, Harry had told them to be nice to him.

Malachi sighed and carried on his way to his Defence class. The timetable had been reshuffled, to account for the new curriculum, and the Slytherins were to be paired up with the Ravenclaws this time rather than the Gryffindors, for the first time since Malachi had started there.

He was glad of that.

The Gryffindors hated him almost as much as the Slytherins.

"Hi, Black," another voice said.

Malachi looked up. As if to contradict his thoughts, it was Colin Creevey – a muggleborn Gryffindor – who had greeted and smiled at him, as they passed one another.

Another person – a Hufflepuff girl, another muggleborn – smiled at him.

Malachi frowned at the bizarre behaviour and was glad to duck into his Defence classroom when he finally reached it.

He took a desk in the furthest row from the front and, from there, the furthest desk from any of the Slytherins he noticed already taking their own seats.

He pulled up his bag, dumping out his textbook and parchments, his notebook along with his quills and ink, and gave a small smile to Professor Lupin when he met his eyes, the professor giving a nod of 'welcome back' in his direction.

That, at least, was a genuine greeting.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Malachi turned at the sound of the odd, far-away voice.

He frowned, noticing it was Luna – or Loony, as his year mates referred to her – Lovegood, and he reluctantly shook his head; "No."

Luna smiled and sat on the stool beside him, tugging out her own things from her schoolbag.

They were odd and girly and her notebook had doodles all over it and she spoke with that same distant, dreamy voice when she looked deeper into her bag; "Oh. I think someone must have hidden my ink from me again."

Malachi frowned; "People hide your ink? Why?"

"I'm not sure," she shook her head, looking as if she were actually thinking about it; "I think they think it's funny."

"Well. It's not," Malachi said, frowning at her odd behaviour – almost as odd as the Gryffindors who had greeted him – and he pushed his own ink closer to the middle of the desk so she could share it.

"Thank you."

She sounded more grateful than she ought to, just to be allowed to share.

"'s fine. It's just ink."

Malachi turned his attention to his Defence textbook – the new one that had been waiting on his bed when he got back the night before – and opened it up to flick through it. It was updated with a ton of new – dark – stuff, and while he was flicking through, he quickly noticed an entire chapter devoted to the Unforgivables. He swallowed, his eyes lingering upon the section about the Cruciatus.

There was a moving picture of someone writhing under the effects of it.

Malachi quickly shut the book, feeling sick.

Luna had started to hum - not at all quietly - next to him. He fought not to look at her and stare.

The others in the class – his own House, in particular – did not demonstrate such reserve and were looking over their shoulders at the sound and the sight of the two of them and snickering and whispering amongst themselves.

Great.

He should just tape a massive 'L' to the front of the desk and call it the Loser's Table.

He leaned back, sinking further down in his stool, and waited for the lesson to start.

"The Dark Lord is quite livid. With you slipping through his fingers, once more, he opted to settle on the next best thing. A lesson, if you will."

"Destroying my son. Breaking his heart, reminding him that as long as his father lives, he will never have a life – or love – or…" Regulus broke off, lifting his hand to his forehead; "And he sees to it that the children of his followers are quick to spread the word of it amongst his school mates. This…this is all just a big game to him, Severus."

"We all know how the Dark Lord likes to toy with his prey."

"Well it can't go on like this, Severus. It can't."

But it would, both of them knew it, because neither could make the Dark Lord stop. As long as Regulus lived, the chase - the games – would continue. And Malachi was the weak point – the easy target – that the Dark Lord would toy with until Regulus finally broke.

Severus' kept his eyes on Regulus' back, where he was standing at the window, as he fingered one of the – many, many – loose parchments and books and journals that were scattered throughout the room: on the desk, the couch, the sill and every available surface of the furniture.

His eyes glanced upon the titles of those nearest to him, eyes skimming the first lines, moving from one to the next.

Diablerie.

Gramayre.

Shadow Magic.

Maleficium.

Blood Magic.

It seemed as if Regulus – in his agitated state – had hauled out every piece of information available to himself regarding the Dark Arts; and there were notes scribbled in margins and circled paragraphs and highlighted text, along with parchments of flow charts and longer notations that couldn't fit into the margins.

Severus glanced back up in Regulus' direction and noticed him watching him.

"You're more than welcome to take a look."

Severus sighed and lifted the handwritten parchments.

Regulus had been in a foul mood since Severus had stepped through the door – barely even making eye contact as he swept around the room – and it was a behaviour entirely recognizable to Severus. The way Regulus would throw himself into his work following the suffering of a loss; he had seen it with Evelyn and with Sirius Black. Andromeda, too, though that one was somewhat overshadowed by Regulus' anxiety at the Dark Lord's second return.

It seemed, in this case, that Regulus bore Malachi's loss as if it were his own heartbreak.

The document Severus had lifted pertained to the Longbottoms; a flow chart detailing the flow of the ancestral magic that the Dark Lord had described and that they – he, Regulus and Lily – had gone over a million times in the years since.

Dumbledore had been entirely uninterested in the notion; seeming to know something the three of them didn't. Obviously, Severus was not privy to what the Headmaster did know. But that he didn't care to look any more into the concept of Blood Magic and the Longbottoms circumstances was a clear enough indication that it was not something he considered necessary. His faith lay somewhere else.

Which, Severus supposed, was a comfort.

If somewhat frustrating.

His eyes drifted over Regulus' notes, feigning interest in what was written.

Regulus' name was scribbled between that of Frank and Alice Longbottom, a line between the couple with a little scored scribble; a small sign of frustration.

Malachi's was down the next line, alongside Neville Longbottom, before the pen lines scored and crossed, in more obvious frustration than the one that sat above those of Frank and Alice.

Severus tossed it aside, glad of the fact Regulus had a son, for he would surely do something stupid and actually attempt to evoke this magic if he did not have offspring to bear the consequences of it.

"Any advice?"

"To assist on your suicide mission –" Severus glanced away, with a wry smirk, that belied his own irritation; " – don't mind me, Regulus. I shall just leave you to it."

"If I wanted to commit suicide, I'd just stand outside the fucking gates!"

Severus met Regulus' eyes at the snap, at the – somewhat, unexpected – unleash of frustration and fury. He reigned in his own surprise at the outburst, as Regulus closed his eyes. For a moment he looked as if he might apologise – or elaborate – but he just turned and glowered, darkly, out at the grounds.

"I can't do this without your help."

Severus got to his feet and approached; "Regulus, we are all working together on this. It is you who has taken it upon yourself to – I do not even know what your intentions are, if I am honest – " Regulus looked at him out the corner of his eye; "- you intend to take on the Dark Lord, singlehandedly? Arm yourself with –" Severus indicated with a flap of a wave at the mess of the room, before he drew in a breath and spoke more assuredly; "You've lost your head, Regulus. Which is exactly what the Dark Lord wants."

Regulus chin dipped, eyes on the sill, and then he turned – the extremely brief moment of eye contact enough to give Severus an alarming look at the pain within them – before he returned and took his chair behind the desk.

"How did he find us?"

"A Ministry contact," Severus stated, crossing his arms; "Within the Improper Use of Magic Office. The Trace. Malachi must have triggered it."

Regulus shook his head; "He would never do that, Severus."

"Not that, no. But he would sneak out of the safety of his home to frolic with the local muggle girls?"

"He's not an idiot. He knows how the Trace works. No magic outside of the Fidelius. He knows using magic in a muggle village would be suspicious. Not to mention get him expelled from school."

"Well. Who else would have…" Severus hesitated.

Regulus met his eyes.

"No," Regulus finally said; "They didn't leave the house."

"You were with them? Every moment they were with you? What about through the night?"

Regulus nodded; "Yes, every…"

He stopped – realization obvious in his expression – and then closed his eyes, shaking his head; "No. I wasn't."

"Harry would not trigger the Trace," Severus said, with the same certainty that Regulus spoke of regarding Malachi; "It would have been Grace. Those boys took Grace outside of the house."

"We don't know that."

"What other explanation is there?"

"Several. Even the smallest incantation could trigger it, in a place as devoid of magic as Crail. It could have been on the doorstep, for all we know."

"It was Grace."

Severus was certain.

Regulus did not counter it – for it was the most likely of the scenarios – and was silent for a moment while Severus stewed in his own, newly established, fury.

"Are you at risk now, Severus?" Regulus finally said; "Who else could have known?"

Severus glanced at him, brought out of his thoughts.

"I am not at risk," Severus shook his head – no more than usual, anyway; "I was not privy to the plans regarding your ensnarement. He would not want you to recognize me, should you manage to evade him. Obviously, his discretion proved beneficial to him – and us – in this case. So long as he does not see reason to legilimise your cousin, my involvement will not be discovered."

"But Narcissa, she's at risk."

"Yes. Though it goes in her favour that she, too, was not involved in the preparations. It would have been leaked by Lucius or, perhaps, your less than accommodating cousin – who may have seen fit to boast to her sister about your impending demise – either way, there is an obvious leak. Either a Ministry contact of your own or a leak within his inner circle. Now he knows it, we cannot be entirely sure the information he feeds down to his followers is genuine. He may attempt to lay a trap to ensnare them or use them to throw Dumbledore off his true intentions – as he attempted to do with the prophecy."

Regulus nodded, slowly, mulling the words.

The remainder of Severus' visit did not last long, now that Severus' foul mood matched that of Regulus' upon figuring out the truth of what had actually transpired that weekend, and he headed back to Hogwarts so the two of them could continue with their stewing, independently.

Harry was waiting for him at the door to his office. Once again ignoring the need for discretion.

"Mr. Potter."

Good. He flicked his wand to unlock the door.

"Mum's awake."

Severus' fury was quickly snuffed out.

He glanced around them, before he stepped forward and opened the door to his office, heading inside with Harry on his heels.

"She woke up this morning. Uncle Remus is taking me to see her," Harry said, immediately upon closing the door behind him, as Severus turned round; "I…I know you can't come with us."

Severus crossed his arms.

"So, I thought, maybe you wanted me to give her a message for you?" Harry said, with the slightest of shrugs, as if he were embarrassed to even be offering; "You know. If you want."

Severus simply stared back at him.

A message.

There was so much he wanted to say to her. Indeed, it was something he'd thought of many times these past few months.

But none of it would come to him.

None of it was simple enough to be relayed by her son.

Anything that he needed to say, he ought to say himself.

Harry drew in a breath, looking even more embarrassed when Severus said nothing, and he shrugged; "Okay. Nevermind."

Harry turned, reaching for the doorknob.

"Harry."

Harry stopped, turning to look at him at hearing his name.

Severus hesitated. Loathe to reveal anything of himself to anyone, as he had always been. But he went ahead.

"You may tell l her that I am sorry."

Harry frowned; "Sorry? For what?"

"Will Grace be accompanying you on this visit?"

"Yes."

Severus gave a single nod.

"In that case, your mother will know what for."

Harry's frown lingered a second, so that the moment when he realized what Severus was apologizing for was all the more obvious; "Oh."

Severus gave a nod, elaborating no further, instead saying; "You had best not keep Professor Lupin waiting."

Harry nodded, eyes lingering on him for a second – with compassion – before he turned and headed from the room.

"Mummy!" Grace was upon her in a flash.

"Grace, Mum's hurt, remember!"

Lily heard Harry before she saw him, above her armful of Grace, and she shook her head – even if it did hurt a little – and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Hello, Sweetheart," she murmured into Grace's hair, and Grace drew back while Harry stood a little bit away with his arms crossed, uncertainly.

Grace was not so uncertain, her smile and eyes bright with delight; "I missed you, Mummy. I've been living at the Castle, with Uncle Remus."

"I know," Lily smiled, caressing her cheek, her eyes going to Harry; "Where is he?"

"Uncle Remus –" Harry glanced over his shoulder with a frown; "Oh, uh. I guess he's waiting outside."

Lily nodded, slowly, before she smiled and reached a hand towards Harry.

He went to her immediately, taking her hand, and she noticed his eyes glimmer, slightly, but he swiped at them before it could become a tear, and then he leaned down and hugged her, almost as tightly as Grace did.

"Mum," he said, his voice wavering; "Mum, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh," Lily reached up, holding him back and pressed a kiss to his cheek; "You have nothing to be sorry for, Sweetheart. It wasn't your fault."

"I mean for everything, Mum," Harry blurted out, leaning back, and his eyes were wet, now; "If you'd died –"

"Died?" Grace repeated the statement, eyes full of alarm.

Harry looked down at her, then gave a smile, shaking his head and he gave her a one-armed hug with the one that wasn't still clutching to Lily; "Just…being dramatic, Grace." He looked back at her; "I'm sorry for all those things I said. I…I get it now. Why you did what you did. I do."

Lily smiled, reaching up to stroke his hair, and she shook her head; "No, I'm sorry, Sweetheart. We…we'll talk about it soon, okay? Properly."

Harry nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the door, before back at his mum; "Do…do you want me to get Uncle Remus?"

Lily's eyes went to the door - uncertain if his absence was due to their estrangement or him just giving the children a chance to see her alone – and then she smiled at Harry, shaking her head; "No. No, you just stay here."

She leaned back, adjusting herself and Grace, so that the two of them were lying up more comfortably on the pillows and she reached for Harry to do the same.

Harry looked a little bit unsure – embarrassed, even – but Grace reached and grabbed his sleeve; "Harry, lie down!"

So, he did – always unable to resist his little sister, and had been, even since she was a baby – and he sat down next to them on the bed, leaning his head on Lily's shoulder.

"We went to the beach, Mummy."

Lily frowned; "The beach?"

"Yes," Grace nodded, lifting her head to look at her; "We went last weekend – oh, sorry Harry – yes, and I was picking up pebbles, see." She reached into her pocket and pulled out two of them. They were white with brown spots – very familiar to Lily, as they'd seen them a few times during walks along the beach closest to home – and Lily smiled, taking one.

She figured Remus must have taken them.

"They look just like those ones we give to…"

Grace's voice trailed off, and Lily looked at her, expectantly, waiting for the rest of her reminiscence.

But Grace's eyes were glazed, slightly, and there was a little frown on her face.

And, then, her eyes brightened again and she looked back at Lily with a smile.

"Oh, the pebbles are pretty, Mummy, aren't they?"

Lily reached up with a frown, stroking Grace's hair; "Honey, what were you saying? Before?"

"When?"

"Just now. You were saying we gather up the pebbles. From the beach."

"Yeah. For…"

It happened again.

Lily looked at Harry.

Harry wouldn't meet her eyes.

Lily sat up, pulling Grace up with her; "Harry, do you want to take Grace for something to eat? There's ice cream down the hall."

"Um. Uncle Remus could take her."

"I need to talk to your Uncle Remus."

"You could talk to me," Harry suggested.

Lily looked at Harry for a moment, uncertainly, before she nodded; "Okay. Okay –" she turned a – forced – smile back to Grace; "Uncle Remus is going to take you for ice cream, Sweetheart."

Grace beamed and nodded, jumping down off the bed, and she took Harry's hand as he led her from the room.

Harry wasn't away for long. But it was long enough for Lily's agitation to increase, tenfold, by the time he stepped back through the door.

"What's wrong with Grace?"

"Nothing," Harry shook his head, shutting the door behind him; "She's fine, Mum."

"Has she been obliviated?"

"No. Orion."

Lily turned away, eyes closing. It was a tactic – a plan – that she and Severus had considered in the past. If things got too precarious, if things got too dangerous.

"The Wizarding Authorities were holding her," Harry explained, not waiting for Lily to ask; "They were going to send her to your sister. Snape didn't want that. He didn't think she'd be safe with her. So, Uncle Remus said he'd take her. But she couldn't be at the Castle knowing who Snape really was; so…so he took it away. So, she'd be safe."

Lily swallowed, meeting Harry's eyes.

"It's working, Mum. Everyone thinks she's Remus' now. Even Tonks."

"Tonks?"

"Oh. Nevermind," Harry shrugged; "We thought it was better, this way. So, she'd still be able to stay with us. We didn't want her to be alone."

Lily looked at Harry closely, raising an eyebrow; "We?"

Harry nodded, and then he gave her a small smile, rolling his eyes; "Yeah, we."

Lily leaned back on the pillows of the bed, still with a frown – even if it was, more than a little, heartening, to hear Harry and Severus were together on this – and she drew in a breath, meeting Harry's eyes; "Have there been any side effects?"

"She likes him. A lot. They only met once and she wouldn't shut up about him. I had to bribe her, to keep her quiet. But…you know what Grace is like. She still looks for him all the time. She still knows – even if she doesn't really know – that he's important."

Lily needed to take her home.

She needed to get up and out of this bed.

But Julia had told her that it could be weeks before that happened and even that was optimistic. A month, at least.

"He said he was sorry."

Lily looked up at Harry, sharply; "Who?"

"Snape."

Lily leaned back a little further, looking at Harry closely; "Severus said that? To you?"

"For Grace. To you."

Lily swallowed, shaking her head, and then she met Harry eyes and gave him a small smile; "Tell him not to be foolish."

Harry screwed up his nose; "I can't tell Snape that! He'd gut me."

Lily chuckled and then winced at the motion. Harry quickly stepped towards her, in obvious concern; "Mum. Are you okay?"

"I will be, Sweetheart," Lily assured him, and he got a small smile, even if he still held onto her sleeve.

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I meant it when I said I was sorry, Mum. I…there's lots of stuff I didn't know. About you and him. But. I believe it now. I know he really loves you."

Lily looked back at him, curiously – knowing there was no way on this Earth Severus would speak openly about such a subject – but before she could ask anything more the door clicked open and Grace ran back into the room, holding three little trays of ice cream.

"Look! Uncle Remus got it for all of us."

Lily glanced in the direction of the door to greet him.

But the door had just clicked shut behind her.

Regulus sat in the corner of the bar, nursing the drink he held, as he waited.

He wasn't waiting long before the woman he was waiting for slipped into the booth beside him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

"Regulus."

Regulus gave her a smile, hoping it met his eyes, and a nod; "Been a while."

"It has. Word on the street had it Regulus Black was off the market."

"Where'd you hear that?" Regulus frowned, in alarm.

"You know I can't reveal my sources," the woman – Ana Maeson – smirked.

Regulus slid the drink he'd ordered for her in her direction.

"That's why you're the best, Miss Maeson."

He did his best to muster up some semblance of flirtation - that had always come easy - but it fell remarkably - and noticeably - short.

"Well, you've obviously called me here for business tonight rather than pleasure, Mr. Black," she grinned, quickly picking up on his mood; "Could it be that the rumours your heart's finally been captured are actually true?"

"What heart, Miss Maeson?" Regulus countered, with a smirk; "Ask the people; I don't have one."

"Aw. She's obviously broken it."

Regulus shook his head, not wanting to engage with this any further; "I need you to find someone for me."

"Thought so. That person have a name?"

"Eugene Hopkins."

Ana's playful demeanor dropped.

She glanced around the room with a frown, before meeting Regulus' eyes again, and repeated the name; "Eugene Hopkins?"

"Yes."

Ana shook her head; "Why?"

"He has information that I need."

Ana looked at him closely for a second, with obvious concern. When he said nothing more and just waited, for he knew her concern wouldn't stop her from agreeing to help – he paid his contacts more than generously, after all - she nodded, agreeing to do as he asked.

And then she cocked an eyebrow.

"Your funeral."