Chapter Sixty-Nine

"Alright, so, when is this gonna be?"

Regulus grinned before he answered her, as he sat down next to Julia on the couch in his – soon to be their – living room, the morning after what had turned out to be a rather splendid day indeed, with roll of parchment and quill in hand.

"Better be quick. My days are numbered -" Julia looked at him, sharply " - No time to waste."

He winked, handing over the items.

Julia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and she flicked his nose with the feathers on the end of the quill.

"Any more jokes like that and they will be numbered, Black."

Regulus' playful grin dimmed somewhat as Julia went down to writing on the parchment. He reached for it, taking it back from her hands for a second; "Listen."

Julia met his eyes.

"We're not going to have much time," Regulus told her – needing her to know the truth of it – and he shook his head; "You know how it is. We'll be lucky to even have a year. I don't want you going into this without really knowing what you're getting yourself in for."

Julia looked back at him. But if his words caused alarm, she didn't show it, staying strong under the unwelcome truth. She drew in a breath, drawing up her knees beneath her on the couch to turn to face him.

"I'd take a year. I'd take a week. I've spent much too long wasting time," she got a little grin, tilting up her chin to look at him; "For the first time in my life, you have made me regret something, Black. That I spent three months apart from you, when we should have been doing this."

Regulus got a smile.

Julia smiled in turn, giving a shrug; "And I'm not going to spend another minute of our time hiding from that."

Regulus' smile widened and he touched his forehead to hers.

"Well. In that spirit –" he handed the quill back over.

"Alright, you want it quick, Black? August 31st. We want Malachi there."

"Yes, we do."

"Who else?"

"Everyone."

"Everyone?" she laughed.

"You wanted to tell the world, Miss Bradbury," Regulus said, eyes twinkling; "So, let's tell the world. Subject to rigorous security screening, of course."

Julia's shoulders dropped in disbelief, but her enthusiasm for the idea was there in her smile; "You think we can pull together a full-scale wedding in less than four weeks?"

"Certainly," Regulus said, with full confidence in the fact; "The Foundation - oh - it was made for events like this; we have the venue, the caterers, the guests – all we need is some entertainment and, believe you me, Miss Bradbury, I have plenty of connections on that front."

"Oh. I can well believe it."

"Then it's settled."

"Settled it is. Three weeks."

"Three long weeks."

Malachi finished up writing the title of the article that Mr. Greengrass had asked for, both excited and nervous by the prospect of something like this actually being printed much less anticipated by all those who had taken to the streets the day before to protest on behalf of his - his - words and thoughts on muggles and the Statute.

He eyed this one. The most ambitious yet.

And he knew, once it was out there, for all to see...well, it didn't take a genius to know that Voldemort wouldn't like it. But, then, that was what Daphne's dad had asked for – what his paper was all about, defying the war – and so he drew in a breath, as if that might steel his nerves.

He finished off penning the title.

Eyed it where it lay in front of him upon his desk.

Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of You-Know-Who.

He skimmed the article, getting a little grin to himself at the first line.

The greatest threat of our generation to the necessary Statute of Secrecy reformation is You-Know-Who, himself.

There was a knock at the door to his bedroom, making him jump, and he turned just as his dad's head popped around the door.

His dad shot him a smile, still in the same good mood that he had been all week, now, and Malachi immediately smiled back; beyond relieved at the change in him.

"Mind if I come in, Son?"

"Um, no," Malachi waved a hand, indicating he do so, and he turned, as casually as possible straightening up the books and parchments on his desk so that he could slip what he'd just written out of sight.

He turned, just as his dad took a seat on the bed behind him, raising his eyebrows; "What's up?"

His dad gave a brief smile, averting his eyes for a second, before he cleared his throat; "Um. Well. I thought that you and I should talk. About last night."

Malachi's lips twitched, feeling mischievous now; "Oh?"

"Yes," his dad nodded; "It seems that Julia … is going to be moving in with us now."

Malachi nodded, slowly.

"Yeah, I kinda figured."

His dad held his look, the two of them both fighting their smiles.

"So?" his dad raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

His dad rolled his eyes.

"So, how do you feel about that, Son?"

Malachi leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side and lifting his eyes to the ceiling, in a show of thinking about it.

His dad rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow at him.

And when a suitable amount of time had passed that Malachi – and his dad – could no longer contain their smiles, Malachi lifted up a hand as if in swear and said, in mock-seriousness.

"I hereby declare that Miss Julia Bradbury has passed the Stepmother Admissions Test –"

His dad snorted, chuckling where he sat.

" – and she is to be granted full access to our life and home."

His dad smiled at him, fondly; "Yeah?"

Malachi dropped his hand – and the act along with it – giving him a smile and a nod; "Yeah. I'm happy for you dad. I am."

Anyone that could snap his dad out of the awful – death-is-just-around-the-corner-for-me – funk that his dad had been in all summer was welcome, as far as Malachi was concerned. And, thankfully, he did like Julia. As far as he could tell she wasn't going to be one of the wicked stepmothers from the muggle pictures – well, the one, so far – that he'd seen this summer that would be locking him up in the attic or something and pretending he didn't exist.

But he met his dad's eyes, saying with a frown; "What's different, though? Didn't she say no?"

"Nothing and yes," his dad conceded, giving a shrug; "She's chosen this."

"Surprised you'd let her," Malachi admitted, even though he didn't – was glad – his dad hadn't turned her away and decided to continue his stewing and death-prep; "You'd lock me up in a dungeon before you'd let me do something like that."

His dad smiled.

"Julia is a grown woman, Son. She knows her own mind," he leaned forward; "You, my Son, are entirely under my influence."

"You said earlier this summer that you're a terrible influence."

"Then enjoy it –" they chuckled; "- while it lasts. You never know, husband-hood just might make me more responsible – respectable, even – and you could find yourself attending garden parties and the races next year, as I was forced to as a child, instead."

They laughed. Malachi could only imagine his dad – and his Uncle Sirius' – thoughts and behaviour at being dragged along to such events.

"I don't know, Son, I suppose after a certain point, there comes a time where – if you believe in something enough – you just have to stand up. Tell the world who you are."

Malachi met his eyes at that.

"Like…find a voice?"

"Find your voice. Yep," his dad said, nodding exaggeratedly, with a grin, and Malachi smiled.

"Right. Well. I'm…you've got my…blessing or whatever, Dad. Just tell me when and I'm there."

"August 31st."

"Wow. That's soon!"

"Well, we wanted it all done and dusted for you going back to school. And Christmas is a bit of a while to wait."

Malachi snickered; "It's four months."

"Far too long," his dad said, grinning, and Malachi smiled.

"Count me in, Dad."

His dad reached for him, pulling him into a hug, and Malachi willingly went.

"Right. Call you down for dinner, alright?"

Malachi nodded, and his dad left the room, just as happy as he'd been when he'd entered it, and Malachi turned back to his desk.

He pulled out the article he'd written, eyeing it once more.

The title.

Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of You-Know-Who.

He drew in a breath and reached for a quill.

Scored through the 'You-Know-Who' at the end and replaced it; and he re-read the new title.

Got a little smirk as he did.

Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of The Great Lord Voldemort.

Severus followed Lily out of the basement.

"Regulus sent a Patronus; they're running a little late. But he shouldn't be too long, now; Harry."

Severus rolled his eyes. Well, of course Harry would defy his specific instructions not to attend the Black premises until he got this mind link under control.

"Where is Grace?"

"With Remus," Lily said, casting a charm to boil the water on the stove; "And Tonks."

Severus fought a smirk at that.

"Ah yes."

Lily got a smile and a roll of the eyes at his tone.

"Have an opinion, do you?"

"Not at all. She was an engaging child – albeit somewhat graceless – and one of my more promising students, in spite of the fact," Severus said, and Lily shot him a look; "And her mother, indeed, was an animable woman. A good friend, if you remember. And peer."

Lily released a breath that could have been either a laugh or exasperation – or both – and shook her head, as she accioed a couple of mugs.

"Well, I think they're very sweet," Lily said, with a little smile to herself, as she set about making tea for them both; "You and I cannot have the monopoly on all things right and good, after all, can we?"

Severus got a smirk and she shot him a grin.

All things good, indeed. He glanced around the kitchen – the home – that he had not been in for months save for his brief stand at the door to the basement some weeks before.

"How long has Harry spent at the Black residence?"

"Oh, they're not at the house."

Severus frowned.

"Oh?"

"Regulus took the boys for a dress robe fitting. No doubt the two of them will have convinced him to partake in some mischievous activity that's ended up delaying them."

"I doubt that would take much convincing. Dress robes for what?"

"For the wedding, of course," Lily said, with a laugh in her voice as if the answer were obvious.

Severus rolled his eyes; "Oh."

He turned and made his way to the table.

"Have an opinion on that as well, do you?"

"Only that it is a disaster in the making."

"The wedding?"

"The marriage," Severus clarified, pulling out a chair and taking a seat; "They will never be happy together."

"Passed your judgement on that already, have you?" Lily raised an eyebrow, eyeing him where he sat; "You don't even know Julia."

"I know Regulus."

"Well," Lily shrugged, getting a smile; "I've seen them together. He loves her."

"I'm sure that he does," Severus conceded, before he shook his head; "But that has never been enough for him. Regulus – once despised – is now adored by the masses and yet he still cannot find peace. He will not find it here."

"Well you are just all sunshine and rainbows today, Sir," Lily – like everyone else these days – was in a remarkably good and teasing mood, and she raised her eyebrows with a smile.

Severus' own lips twitched beneath it; "I watched him try and fail at this for years with Malachi's mother."

And the risk of a smile died with it – that remembrance – the death of Evelyn Redway and all that Regulus had put her through in the lead up to it.

"Well, maybe he wants to try again," Lily said, approaching with the prepared mugs and setting them down on the table beside him; "Do better this time."

"It is not done out of choice or maliciousness, Lily, he always tries," Severus shook his head before meeting her eyes; "Mark my words, your friend has just ruined her life."

Lily looked down at him but rather than become grim in acknowledgement of his words, her smile turned warm, less teasing and more for him, and she said, leaning towards him; "Well. I've heard that one before."

Severus held her look, under her adoring gaze, and then he smiled, glancing away.

Lily gave a little chuckle and stepped closer, taking a seat upon his lap rather than the chair she had been going towards, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Have faith," she said, with that same optimistic smile; "They may just surprise you."

Severus doubted it but he knew that argument was pointless. Only time would tell if the Black marriage would actually hold.

"And it was rather inspiring, don't you think?" Severus' eyes were drawn back to Lily at the change in her tone, and he quickly noticed the twinkle in her eyes; "To declare one's love so passionately in the middle of a crowded ballroom. It must have been incredibly liberating."

Severus looked back at her seriously.

"Don't ever do that, Lily."

Lily burst into fits of giggles, then, upon him and leaned into him and he found himself unable to fight his own smile any longer, under her infectious amusement.

She drew back when she had finally composed herself, smiling down at him with unconcealed affection, and then she leaned down, capturing his lips with her own, kissing him deeply and tightening her arms around his neck.

Severus didn't resist, returning her affections in kind, and his own hands came up to reach for her, drawing her closer.

The kitchen door burst open and shut, suddenly, and the two of them hastily stopped, heads snapping in its direction.

"Um –" Harry was standing there, wide eyed and looking as mortified as Severus felt; "Sorry…I'm…late."

He quickly averted his eyes to stop staring.

"We - um - went to get some stuff – and we did a thing – like – a bachelor thing for Mr. Black's – um – do you want me to wait in the basement?"

Lily smiled at him, getting up off of Severus' lap – much, much more slowly than either he or Harry would have liked – and shook her head; "No, don't be silly. Did you have a good time?"

She sat down in the chair next to Severus, as if Harry being there, in the room, the three of them together in the kitchen and conversing about their child's day, was something entirely ordinary.

"Um…yeah," Harry said, his uncertainty seeming to dim a little now in light of the fact his mother was no longer sitting upon him, and he approached them, becoming more confident in his welcome with each step, until he finally smiled.

"Yeah. Mr. Black took us into York. Muggle York –" he quickly corrected himself; "– we went to one of the markets. Had some food. He took us on a chocolate crawl and then we went down to one of the roller rinks –" his eyes lit up with each activity listed off; "- it was awesome."

"And unnecessarily risky," Severus found himself saying, irritated at Regulus' foolishness.

"Mum said it was fine -"

Severus met Lily's eyes and she got a little smile, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.

"- and Mr. Black and Malachi have been going out all summer. They've been safe."

"Lucky is not the equivalent of safe."

Lily rolled her eyes and Harry caught it, the two of them sharing a smile. And Severus was getting the distinct impression that he had now found himself, unwittingly and without warning, in the role of stern and serious father to Lily's lighthearted mothering and he cleared his throat, pushing aside his own warmth at the realization, and got to his feet.

"Mr. Potter, shall we begin?"

"Sure," Harry gave a nod, casting a smile Lily's way; "Wanna watch, Mum?"

"I'll leave the two of you to it," Lily said with a smile.

Severus headed towards the basement, Harry on his heels.

The weeks between the Gala and the wedding passed in a flurry of excitement.

He and Malachi still had that list and Regulus was still just as determined, even in light of the engagement - perhaps, even, more so, now that it would soon no longer only be the two of them - that he and his son would tick off all of those boxes of his.

They had quarry-karted down a mountain and ziplined through the Snowdonian Valleys.

There had been paintballing, high-tree-top safari trekking, adventure caving, laser-combat and white-water rafting –

It was not the Dark Lord - or even Hopkins - who was going to kill Regulus, no.

It was, in fact, his very own son – Regulus was becoming quite convinced of the fact – as he eyed the leaflet for the activity he had mercifully managed to escape – bungee-jumping; after the experience of jumping out of that plane, there was no chance of that – and he got a little smile, as the summer drew to a close.

The wedding was tomorrow. Hogwarts resumed the next day.

And with the exception of that one last activity, the list was done.

Julia could take Malachi bungee jumping, one day, when this was all over. He snickered at the thought, wondering if he ought to add that to his newly completed Bequeathment Notice.

A dying wish.

The door to his office suddenly burst open with enough force that Regulus was amazed it hadn't left its hinges, before slamming shut, making the nearby bookcase and all upon it rattle under the impact.

Narcissa stormed up to where he sat at his desk, her eyes flashing with fury.

"What have you been saying to my son?"

His eyebrows lifted.

"With an entrance like that, I imagine you already know."

"How dare you. How dare you, Regulus! Do you have any idea what Draco is going through right now?"

"Oh, I think I do," he leaned back in his chair.

"He needs to focus. The last thing he needs is his insane cousin filling his head with ridiculous fantasies!"

"Oh, I'm the insane one? He is a fifteen-year-old boy, Cissy, and you have him joining the ranks. The ranks! You're his mother, for crying out loud!"

"I am thinking about his future."

"You want a look at your son's future. Look at me."

"My son will never be like you. He is not a fool. He does not go around strutting and provoking the Dark Lord at every turn. You are not seriously considering marrying this mudblood!"

"OH!" he was on his feet in a flash; "Oh – you are so far out of line, Narcissa!"

"You think he's going to allow it?" she raised her eyebrows; "Defect; build a Foundation to defy him and marry mud? Well, you keep living in your fantasies, little cousin, but you leave my son out of it. You stay away from him, Regulus."

Narcissa turned on her heel, marching from the room, leaving Regulus glowering and shaking with his own fury in her wake.

"It was pretty, where you grew up. We should go back there, again, the three of us. I mean…if you wanted me to come –" Malachi broke off, feeling himself reddening a bit, before he shrugged; "I mean, I bet Dad would want to go back."

Julia gave him an easy smile where he sat at the counter, nodding; "Count on it, Kid."

The door to the kitchen opened and his dad walked in.

Looking annoyed.

Malachi frowned, noticing the way he forced a smile their way as he greeted them, shrugging out of his cloak and hanging it on the peg.

"Everything alright?" Julia asked, when he stepped up beside her, picking up on his mood as quickly as Malachi had.

His dad looked at her for a second, and, with a sigh, the annoyance in his expression dissolved before he kissed her and Malachi rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the book in front of him on the counter.

"Ask me tomorrow –" he heard his dad say; " – for tomorrow, Miss Bradbury, is when everything will, at last, be right in the world."

Malachi heaved, exaggeratedly, and they laughed, turning his way as he looked back up at them.

"Is he always like this?"

Julia smiled, eyeing his dad, fondly, and shot Malachi a grin - "I'm afraid so" - before she walked up to where Malachi was sitting and lifted up the bag that was on the stool next to him.

"Alright, you two. I'll see you tomorrow."

She slung the strap over her shoulder, and Malachi gave her a smile - his very soon-to-be stepmum - before she went up giving his dad another quick kiss, before heading from the house.

His dad watched after her, eyes lingering even once the door had closed.

"So, what's really the matter?" Malachi asked, once they were alone.

His dad turned, meeting his eyes, and he smiled, shaking his head; "Nothing at all, Son."

His dad cleared his throat, approaching him and leaning on the counter so they were eye to eye.

"Listen. I want you to stand up with me tomorrow at the wedding."

"You mean…as your best man?"

His dad smiled.

"That's right."

"Oh, yeah," Malachi smiled, giving a little shrug; "I mean…Severus can't do it, so…"

"No, Son," his dad said, shaking his head, before he leaned his forehead against his; "You are my best man –" He grabbed him and planted a smacker of a kiss on his cheek and they both laughed.

"Yeah, alright," Malachi nodded, still chuckling; "I'll do it."

"She's going to be with us now, Julia. Are you okay with that?"

"You've asked me already."

"I know. Last minute check in, call it."

"So, what, you'd just call off the whole wedding 'cause I told you to?"

His dad held his look. A rare moment of seriousness, but when Malachi shook his head his dad smiled. As if he wouldn't even allow himself to be happy and have what he wanted, of Malachi should click his fingers and say the word 'no'.

Malachi made sure to reassure him. He would never do that, anyway, but with the way his dad had been earlier that summer still weighing heavily upon him - his resignation that he was doomed to die at any which moment - he didn't want his dad having any doubts that he was actually behind him on this. Completely.

His eyes went to the picture on the wall; of him and his dad and his mum.

It'd need to come down, Malachi knew. But it'd go in his room, Malachi had decided, and the another one would replace it. Future displayed, rather than the past; even if he'd never forget.

"I want this, Dad," Malachi said, with certainty; "For both of us, yeah but… especially for you. I don't ever want you to not be happy. And I'd never want you to be alone."

His dad drew in a breath. And then he reached out a hand, squeezing his shoulder.

"And I don't want that for you, Son."

Malachi lowered his eyes. Knew his dad was talking about Emma.

"Listen," his dad went on, quietly; "You've had a rough year. The worst, I know. But, please, believe me; that is not all that the world has to offer. You've only ever seen the darkness. But there is good and there is light and I promise you, Malachi, you will see it and you will have the best life. I will make sure of it."

"Life with you isn't so bad, Dad. I've never felt like we're living in darkness when it's just me and you."

His dad got a smile.

"Do I have to make a speech?" Malachi asked, dreading the thought.

"No," his dad shook his head, getting a grin and knowing him well enough to know how much he would not want to do that; "You leave the speeches to me."

Malachi breathed a sigh of relief and his dad laughed, before he reached into his robes and pulled out two cans of muggle beer and put them in front of him.

"Shall we toast to our new life, then, Son?"

"Ugh. You got beer?"

"With my dear son in mind! It's the muggle kind."

"The worst kind."

His dad chuckled, and he reached beneath the counter, and pulled up a bottle of firewhiskey.

"One glass. That's all."

"A full glass?"

"Trying your luck, my son," his dad said as he poured it with a smile.

And his dad handed over Malachi's tiny little sip of the drink and poured his own, much more generous portion, and the two of them clinked together.

To the future that began tomorrow.

"Are you coming to the wedding?" Harry asked between legillimency spells, with a glance at the timepiece.

It had been late, very late, when Snape had arrived that night but he'd actually looked good, for once - for the first time all summer, in fact - and Harry quickly realized the reason for that must be that Hogwarts was starting the day after tomorrow and he couldn't turn back up at the school looking like – well – there was no flattering way to put it, Snape's appearance the past few weeks, so Harry let the thought drift off.

But he was glad, Harry realised - that if school being back in session meant that Snape wasn't going to be being tortured day in and day out - that summer was finally coming to an end.

"I have, indeed, been drafted into attending the event," Snape said, looking none too pleased at the fact, and he inclined his chin; "Ready yourself."

"Drafted by who? Mr. Black?"

Snape met his eyes.

Harry realized, then, that even though Mr. Black would obviously extend Snape an invitation, in actuality Snape had been ordered to attend.

By Voldemort.

Harry swallowed.

"Is something bad gonna happen?"

"The Foundation's defences are sound. The strongest wards available placed upon it; the very same evacuation procedures in place as at New Year. I imagine it goes without saying that if you should see anything in your mind, no matter how small or how, indeed, how alarming, that you are to immediately remove yourself from the function and find either myself or your mother or another adult whom you can trust. Though, do try not to bother the groom, if you possibly can."

Harry rolled his eyes.

His mum was going to be there.

And Snape.

Even his Uncle Remus was going to be there, as Tonks' date; the two of them going fully public, now, rather than just with those closest to them.

There were plenty of people he could turn to, this time, if he needed them.

Harry shrugged; "I won't. So. You think it's safe?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The Foundation is entirely safe. No doubt the Dark Lord will use the event as a distraction to cause some other such chaos while the rest of us are in attendance at this wedding."

"You're not worried Grace might be all over you again?"

"It shall be your assigned duty, Mr. Potter, to ensure that such an occurrence does not happen again."

"You know how Grace is; if I tried to keep her back she'd just shout at you across the whole room. Least the way it happened she was right beside you, so no one else could hear."

"Your attempts at finding the silver lining are admirable, Mr. Potter," Snape said, eyeing him; "It does not excuse the fact that a mistake was made. As such, I propose that you and I work together to ensure that – never again – will your sister and I been seen together in public. If at all."

"Well. Not never," Harry rolled his eyes, shooting him a grin.

Snape's lips twitched.

Before anything further could be said, a Patronus suddenly swept into the room.

It was huge and bright and it simply spun through the room, floating up to Snape and stopping, suspended itself in the air right in front of Snape for a moment – a Phoenix – and it said and did nothing but that, before it vanished from sight, as if it were never there.

Snape stared at the place where it once was.

For only a second.

And then he strode to the door, leaving without a word.

Severus hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, making as much haste as he could without the risk of drawing the curiosity of the professors who had already returned for the start of the next term, and it took far longer than he would have liked before he burst through the door into Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster's message had made it entirely clear that something was very wrong.

But, of all the scenarios that had played through Severus' mind in the few minutes it had taken for him to leave home and get to Dumbledore's office, none of them even came close to the scene before him when he stepped into the room.

Upon Dumbledore's desk were five items.

It took only a second for Severus to realise what they were.

Regulus' gathered horcruxes.

A destroyed, blackened diary. A cracked locket. A broken ring. A cup. A diadem.

The last two were still intact.

The Sword of Gryffindor lay upon the desk.

And, behind them all, Dumbledore was slumped in his chair; unconscious, beads of sweat rolling down his face and, at the end of his swinging arm, his fingers were blackened and withered, the darkness creeping slowly but steadily upwards and licking his palm.

Severus was at his side in an instant.