Chapter Ninety-Five

Regulus stood in the corner of the room, watching as the two healers hurried around Julia where she lay – entirely still, pale with a tinge of blue to her lips and eyelids – upon the bed in the private room at St. Mungo's.

A private room which, Regulus was sure by the shelves of potions and bandages and dressings within it, was actually a cupboard; the bed transfigured out of something within it, to conceal the fact that they'd come.

Regulus had snuck in and up to Julia's ward – his limp wife in his arms – just as night began to fall, hoping that those who knew her would be willing to help.

They'd been bustled out of sight as soon as one of the attending Healers had set their eyes upon them, quickly setting to work.

Regulus could vaguely hear them, past his own dazed thoughts, unable to process what was happening.

"…need a curse breaker…"; "…doesn't have much time…"; "…baby's distressed…"; "…needs to come out first…"

It couldn't end like this.

She couldn't be dying.

"Mr. Black," a matron said, softly, as she suddenly appeared in front of him, forcing him to tear his eyes from his wife.

The eyes were kind.

So much so, that Regulus could almost trust her.

"How far along is she?" she asked.

He stared at her.

Stupidly.

All rational thought leaving him – unable to access anything in his mind past the fact that Julia might be dying – and he frowned.

The woman – barely more than a girl – touched a hand to his arm, asking more gently; "When is the baby due?"

Regulus swallowed – that was easier – before choking out the information.

The day he'd been dreaming of for months now.

"June fifth."

The girl turned, giving a nod to one of the Healers, and the two of them up by the bed began moving around, with more haste than before, as the matron turned back to him.

"Mr. Black," she said, drawing his gaze back to her; "We're going to deliver the baby. Julia won't be awake. But you can stay, if you'd like to."

That wasn't right.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Just him and the baby.

Still, he nodded and followed the matron – who smiled, kindly, once more – almost in a daze, to Julia, taking a seat on the stool he realized they'd put there for him up at the top of the bed, behind her.

Regulus leaned in close, his hands tentatively going to her shoulders – looking at the Healers, uncertainly, and only touching her when one gave him a nod, an assurance that to do so wouldn't hurt her – and then he buried his nose in her hair and held her – tried to ignore how cold she was within his arms – and waited.

It took only minutes before the not-unfamiliar cries of a newborn baby – their baby – filled the room.

Regulus closed his eyes, face still buried close into Julia's hair – his heart clenching that she was missing this – and didn't move until the matron walked up to him – the cries having stopped – with the wrapped-up bundle in her arms, while the Healers went back to tending to Julia.

Regulus lifted his head.

"Congratulations. It's a boy."

Regulus sat up, straighter, unable to help his frown of bewilderment – having been certain it would be a girl – and she placed the baby into his arms.

Regulus gazed down at him where he lay.

His son.

He was perfect.

Tiny – coming earlier than he should have done – but perfect.

He looked exactly like Malachi had.

Though, even with them closed, Regulus knew his eyes would be brown.

His own were grey.

He'd have the eyes of his mother.

Both his sons with the eyes of their mothers; and their mothers, both, lost to them.

Torn from their lives for their wretch of a father.

The little eyelids opened, then; bleary eyes, blinking, innocently looking back at him.

Still baby blue, not yet changed.

The spitting image of his brother.

Flashes of his first born – his innocent boy – and all Malachi had lost and lived through coming back to him in that moment.

Regulus couldn't breathe.

He saw a tear splash onto the little face of his new son.

And he hated himself, more than ever, in that moment, that the first sight his baby would see was his father's tears.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He was supposed to do better, this time.

The baby – his baby – started to cry.

Regulus did, too, unable to help it.

But he drew his son close, rather than pushing him away, murmuring softly against his tiny head where he held him against his chest.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry heard a sniff come from the other side of the room.

Malachi's room.

The five of them having come to the Blacks' for cover – following their escape from the Foundation – Mr. Black being their Secret Keeper rendering their own home almost as unstable as the Foundation had become, should Mr. Black actually be captured.

With a glance, Harry could see Grace was fast asleep – facing him – from where her transfigured bed was set up in the corner of the room.

Harry glanced upwards, to Malachi, who lay with his back to him in his own.

"Malachi?" Harry whispered.

Malachi didn't answer him – but his friend held his breath, enough of a signal that he'd heard him, futilely trying to pretend he was asleep – and Harry sighed, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling.

He knew Malachi didn't like to talk when he was upset.

When he was afraid.

Mr. Black still hadn't come back.

Snape said that was good. That they must be doing something for them.

But Malachi didn't think so, sitting huddled by the radio all night waiting for word of his dad's arrest – or, more likely, execution – until Snape had told him enough and sent them to bed after he'd finally managed to settle down Grace, who bounded the walls, delighted by the fact her father was there despite the terrible circumstances.

Of course, they wouldn't sleep.

How could they, after all they'd seen and after all they now knew – not that Harry had said anything to either Snape or his mum about it yet – for it was all Harry could do just to keep his mind from racing at it all.

At how this one single day had changed everything.

His mind lingered on the Foundation, and Daphne who was lost to him, now, and the fallen – the dead – who, soon, he'd be joining – for there was no way he could let anything like that happen again, if it were in his power to stop it – and then his mind would go to the horcrux – to what he was – and how Snape had known and how his mum must have known, too.

He wanted answers.

But he lay there, in the dark, eyes on the ceiling.

Unable to go downstairs and ask the questions.

He heard the sound of the door open and shut downstairs – Malachi immediately springing to his feet and hurrying from the room – and Harry pushed himself up, slowly.

Marvelling at Grace's ability to sleep through anything.

There was almost complete silence from the story below – enough of a sign that Mr. Black hadn't come back – and Harry got to his feet, grabbing and putting on his glasses, as he went, instead, to the window.

It took a few seconds for him to notice them.

A figure standing in the darkness – a long way away from the house, near the edge of the woodland – and Harry squinted, trying to make out who it was.

And then he saw another figure – his mum, he realised – making her way towards them in the dark.

"Remus."

Remus hugged her as soon as Lily stepped beyond the boundaries of the Fidelius.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, urgently; "The kids?"

Lily nodded, slowly drawing back; "Yes. We made it out, all of us. But Julia…Regulus had to take her to St. Mungo's. He sent word a few minutes ago. A curse breaker was able to lift the curse. But it's just a matter of time, now, to see how she was affected. Whether or not she'll…"

Lily's voice trailed off.

Remus nodded, grimly, taking in the news, before he reached down, lifting up a bag that was at his feet – reduced in size, Lily realised right away, feeling the weight of it when he handed it over.

"This is all Severus asked for. What I could get my hands on before any newly instated Death Eaters could arrive."

"Has he assigned a new Headmaster?"

"Not yet. From what I've heard, the spring term is to be suspended, with the students sent home early for the summer. But we should know more tomorrow. I imagine Hogwarts is not the first thing on Voldemort's mind right now; what with the rumours currently circulating."

Lily nodded, glancing down.

"What happened, Lily?"

"Most likely whatever the rumours say happened," Lily said, with a wry look; "Grace. And now Severus is…no longer able to maintain his place by Voldemort's side."

Remus nodded; "I can imagine. What's being said has caused quite the stir within Hogwarts, alone."

Lily lifted her eyebrows, nodding, well believing the fact.

"Dora sent a message," Remus went on, "I was able to go to her, first. She's with Hermione and the Weasleys. They made it out. They'd heard from a few other groups, too; Daphne Greengrass and the kids she was with, Kingsley came across them just outside the boundaries. They're all taking cover in whatever safe houses they can find. Until it's safe to regroup."

Lily sighed; glad of some good news – that others had made it out – in light of all that had just transpired.

Harry would be happy to hear of it.

Remus reached out, squeezing her shoulder; "I better get back. Eyes everywhere now; they're expecting the teachers to offer aide – of course we would – but they're still none-the-wiser to the Hogs Head entrance for now. If you need anything else…"

"Thank you, Remus."

He smiled, nodding.

"Give the kids my love."

Lily smiled in turn, nodding that she would, before she lifted the bag up over her shoulder and headed back to the house.

"Then, they're okay?" Malachi was saying, his eyes bright with both surprise and hope, when Lily stepped into the kitchen, finding him standing opposite where Severus was brewing at the counter; "They didn't get caught?"

"As far as can be gathered from your father's message; all is as well as can be expected, Malachi."

Malachi released a breath, his relief palpable as he smiled; "Um…"

Severus inclined his chin, nodding back at the staircase; "I trust you might sleep somewhat easier, now?"

Malachi's smile warmed – gratefully, as if Severus himself had been the one to save them – and then he nodded.

Before he turned and headed back upstairs.

Lily approached where Severus stood – him giving her a warm look as she did, while he added another ingredient to the cauldron – the air between them heavy with the reality of all that had just happened.

Barely able to find the joy they ought to, at being in one another's company again for so long.

Both of them aware of the gravity of the situation and that this, now,could very well be as good at it gets for them.

The voice from the radio spoke softly, Severus opting to keep it on after the boys had been sent to bed.

"…in light of recent events, a new – extremely enticing – reward has been placed upon another head. None other than that of former Hogwarts Headmaster, Severus Snape – the man responsible for the cowardly murder of one Albus Dumbledore – who has demonstrated, once again, that loyalty is a rather fickle thing, indeed. A hundred thousands galleons upon his head, as was announced…"

"How's it coming?" Lily asked, as she reached his side, peering into the cauldron as she placed the bag onto counter.

"It should be complete within the next couple of hours," Severus assured her; "This should counter any lingering side effects and accelerate the recovery process; preferably, the course of potions should begin immediately upon the lifting of the curse –"

"They've only just lifted it," Lily pointed out; "Maybe we could get it to them –"

"No. Regulus and the two of them need to be extracted from St. Mungo's, at the next available opportunity," Severus said, glancing at her while he carried on brewing; "It will not be long until they are discovered there. No matter how many of your friend's colleagues remain loyal and willing to assist; it takes only one. As the incident at the Foundation has just demonstrated."

Lily nodded, knowing it were true. That they were no means out of the woods, having initially been met with kindness.

"As soon as the concoction is complete, I shall go and retrieve them," Severus told her; "With it being the middle of the night, their cover is likely to remain in tact a little while longer –"

"I'll go."

"Lily –"

"I've been out there for months, Severus, I know how to move around without being noticed. And, after what happened, everyone's eyes are going to be looking out for you."

"The point is mute, considering Lupin just delivered my stores of Polyjuice Potion along with the other items I requested."

"Well," Lily raised her eyebrows; "Then the point is mute, indeed."

She flicked her wand, returning the bag to its rightful size and opened it, rummaging inside for the Polyjuice.

"Lily –"

She found it, pulling it out and set about looking for a flask; "Severus, you just said time is of the essence and you need to be here brewing the potions. I'll go and get them. There's no way Regulus would manage to get Julia out, along with the baby, while she's still unconscious and we've only got a few hours of dark left."

Lily filled the flask she'd found with the Polyjuice, capping it and tucking it into the pocket of the cloak she still wore, while Severus – still working – eyed her, warily.

Lily smiled, before stepping towards him and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder; "I'll be back soon."

Severus looked at her – not entirely sceptically, but still not at all pleased – and she leaned up, pressing her lips to his.

Severus remained close when she drew back, his voice soft when he spoke.

"Be safe, Lily."

She smiled, nudging his nose with hers, playfully – eliciting a small smile from him in turn - before she turned and headed out, snatching up Harry's Invisibility Cloak that lay on the counter as she passed.

It took a couple of hours before Lily – now blonde haired and blue-eyed – finally came across them; Regulus, Julia and the baby, where they were set up in a closet down the end of the restricted ward that Lily, herself, had spent far too much time in the year before.

Regulus was the only one awake, sitting on a chair by Julia's bed, eyes all for the baby in his arms that rested upon his knees, not noticing Lily's quiet arrival.

Lily stepped into the room; "Hey."

Regulus started and turned away, slightly, and it was then that Lily noticed his reddened eyes before he looked back at her and forced a smile and a nod.

"Shift changeover, is it?"

Lily gave him a small smile – which she was sure conveyed the sadness of the entire room – and shook her head; "It's me, Regulus. Lily."

Regulus' smile faded away then, as he looked at her, consideringly, before he looked back at the baby.

Not even asking the security questions they'd established to check.

Lily sat down on one of the boxes – a supply box, she guessed – next to him and she turned her gaze to the sleeping baby.

"Is it –"

"A little boy," Regulus said, quietly.

Lily smiled, then, unable to help herself at the sight of him.

"He's beautiful."

Regulus nodded, his voice quiet; "Yes."

Both their eyes lingered upon the sleeping babe, the picture of innocence. Sleeping peacefully, entirely unaware of the darkness that he'd been born into.

Regulus drew in a breath, his voice barely more than a murmur as he kept his eyes on his son.

"I wanted him to have everything. But really…the only thing he needs is his mother."

Regulus dipped his head.

His voice low, harsh and ashamed when he went on.

"I can't do this again."

Lily turned more fully to face him, her hand going to his arm.

She waited until he met her eyes – albeit briefly – before she said, with certainty.

"Yes, you can," she assured him, before she shook her head; "But you won't have to."

Regulus rubbed a hand across his eyes, before looking at Julia; "The Healers said there's only a forty percent chance, Lily. And that's only if she wakes within the next forty eight hours –"

"Severus has something."

Regulus looked back at her.

"It's…experimental. But with the baby being here now, the advantages far outweigh the risks. It might just accelerate the recovery enough, now the curse has been lifted, to avoid any lasting damage. The sooner we can –"

There was a knock at the door to the room – the cupboard – before it pushed open and one of the matrons – one Lily recognised from her own time as a patient – walked into the room.

"Oh," she said, coming to a stop with surprise in her voice when she noticed Lily-in-disguise.

Regulus carefully placed the baby in Lily's arms – she marvelling at the lightness of him – before he got to his feet and went to the woman who'd entered.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"There's a shift changeover an hour from now. We'd stay, of course, but there's rules against –"

Regulus nodded, stopping her; "No. No, I understand."

"It's up to you if you'd like to stay here," the matron told him, "But Julia worked the nights. So…we can't be sure that the staff coming in this morning –"

Regulus held up a hand, giving the young matron a smile; "You don't have to explain. And thank you – tell the others – for this. Thank you."

"Course. Julia's one of us, Mr. Black."

The woman gave him another smile, before she turned, heading from the room, and, when she did, Lily got to her feet – carefully moving the baby into the crook of one arm before she reached into her cloak, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak and handing it over to Regulus.

"Let's go."

Malachi stood off to the side of the door to his dad's bedroom, uncertainly, as he watched his dad and Severus and Mrs. Potter bustle around the room, getting Julia – still unconscious – settled on the bed, having been woken by the sound of their voices when they'd come up the stairs.

Severus gave a nod to his dad when Julia was lying down, and his dad stepped away – allowing Severus to take a seat on the bed next to her – before his Godfather proceed to administer various potions and spells and whatever else needed to be done to make sure she'd be alright.

Malachi drew in a shaking breath, hoping she would be.

Tried – hard as he could – not to think about his mum.

His dad noticed him, then, and he headed over, giving him a smile as he approached. Malachi's smile came easily in turn at seeing his dad fine, at least, after all he'd been imagining since he'd disappeared with Julia the night before.

"Dad."

His dad hugged him tight and Malachi just let him, neither of them saying anything until he finally drew back.

"Is she gonna be alright?"

His dad swallowed, glancing at her, before he met Malachi's eyes and nodded; "Yes."

Malachi wasn't sure if it was true – if his dad was trying to convince himself, as much as he was Malachi – but he didn't counter the statement.

Things were hopeless enough, right now, as it was.

A soft cry sounded, then, from Mrs. Potter's arms.

And it was only then that Malachi remembered with a start…

His dad smiled, even more warmly that time, and he quickly went over to Harry's mum, lifting the wrapped-up bundle in her arms – that wiggled a little, making snuffling noises – before coming back to him.

Malachi swallowed – feeling strangely nervous with anticipation – as his dad reached him.

"So, um…" his dad lifted his eyebrows, before he said, with that little proud smile of his; "This is your little brother."

Malachi stared at him.

He was so small – much smaller than Malachi had imagined he'd be – and he looked so much like his dad.

The little eyes blinked up at him.

Malachi tentatively reached up – not really sure what to do – as if to touch his familiar little face and, when he did, his finger was captured by the grasp of a tiny – unbelievably soft – hand, that squeezed him tight.

Malachi released a breath, smiling then.

"Hi."

A little noise – an odd gargle of a sound – came from the baby, his brother, as if answering him. And Malachi laughed a little bit, not really able to believe what was happening.

He met his dad's eyes, then, and Malachi noticed they glimmered.

But his dad didn't look sad.

Instead, he chuckled a little bit, too, and he reached out an arm, drawing Malachi into his side and pressed a kissed to his head.

The two of them staring down at the new life of the little Black that had come into the world.

Malachi started to reach for him, nervously but no less eager.

"Grace –" Mrs. Potter's voice sounded behind him, and Malachi saw her trying to grasp Harry's sister by the arm – to no avail – to stop her approach.

"Aw! He's so cute, Mr. Black!" Grace declared, rushing up to his dad's side, disheveled from sleep but eyes bright with delighted approval; "Can I hold him?"

Mr. Black chuckled – casting an apologetic look Malachi's way – and nodded; "Have a seat at the window, I'll bring him over."

Grace grinned and hurried to do as he said, his dad giving Malachi's shoulder a squeeze, before following her across the room.

"That's not a bear, Daddy; it's a dog!"

"It looks rather intimidating to be merely a dog, don't you think?"

"Just because dogs can be cute and friendly, that doesn't mean they can't be fierce," Grace grinned, before baring her teeth with a growl, playfully.

Snape made a sound – it took a second for Harry to realise it was a laugh – and chuckled Grace's chin, with obvious affection, the two of them sitting cuddled together on the couch with a book on Snape's lap.

Harry stood by the staircase, just watching them.

Grace snuggled back into Snape's side, a contented smile on her face – delighted and completely at ease by her father's unexpected reappearance in her life – as Snape returned to reading the story; an arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

His mum stepped in behind them, leaning down and saying something over Snape's shoulder into his ear.

Snape smiled at whatever she said, before his mum pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment. The man as entirely at ease by it all as his sister.

The picture perfect family.

As if this was just their normality; something they'd done a hundred times before.

Which it was.

And something they'd do a hundred times, thereafter, once Harry was long gone.

It didn't feel real.

None of this.

When Harry had pictured it, knowing – thinking – that it was coming, the four of them finally together – without all of the secrets and the lies that had kept them apart – Harry had expected to be gleeful.

Content in the knowledge that all they had been through and done had been worth it.

He thought he'd be happy.

Instead, Harry felt empty.

Because, looking at Snape and Grace together, now, all he could see was lies.

Secrets and lies and hollow dreams that had come to nothing.

Harry swallowed, glancing down.

He didn't feel different. Being a horcrux.

Except for the fact that he now couldn't stop thinking about how he had to die.

How he had to die and how his family were going to be just fine without him.

Harry pushed the thought aside. A petty, stupid thought; for it wasn't as if he'd rather they be suffering in their future, without him.

If anything, that'd make it worse.

Especially Grace.

The more the secrets came out – secrets he could barely even comprehend, one piled on top of another, never stopping, never done – the more Harry was sure of it; that his baby sister was the only good thing to come out of this whole mess that was their life.

But maybe his mum and Snape had had the right of it.

Maybe it would have been better if Harry had never known.

If they'd just kept lying to him – right to the end – then he wouldn't have wasted so much bloody time asking questions and being angry and thinking he hated them.

He would have just lived and laughed and believed that he and his mum and Grace were it and that they were what had made his mum happy and that they were the family.

It would hurt just the same, obviously – not being there for their future – but at least he could have pretended then – like Grace would scold him for – that it had all been worth it.

That it hadn't all been a lie.

Harry railed against the thought.

He was over it.

He was over it.

He said it over and over in his mind, just as he'd been doing all year, ever since he'd almost gotten his mum killed. Telling himself that it didn't matter. Telling himself that life and love and family were what mattered, and they needed to be together on this.

Together or they'd never win, just like Snape had insisted.

The illusion shattered, then – his entire reason for burying the hurt – because to win he would have to die.

And to not win wasn't an option.

He was never going to be there for the future they promised they were fighting for.

The future they'd put him and his sister through hell for.

"Hey."

Harry started, drawn from his thoughts at the sound of his mum's voice, only noticing then that she'd approached and was standing by his side.

She smiled at him, before looking in the direction of Snape and Grace where they sat on the couch – with a look that told Harry it was the most precious sight in the world to her; the man she loved with their child – and Harry mustered up a smile in turn when she met his eyes.

It wasn't real, the smile.

It was pretending, just like Grace had said.

But his mum didn't even notice. Just squeezed his arm and headed on by up to the kitchen.

Harry watched after her.

And the thought came upon him, suddenly, as if he were a child.

He wanted his mum.

It was so juvenile, so childish, but he did.

Just like the little boy he had been, years and years before, when he'd stood at the doorway to the house every Monday morning and would bid her farewell – with than sinking feeling in his tummy – wondering when he'd see her again.

Knowing, even then, that it most likely wouldn't be until the weekend. A lifetime away, it had seemed, when he was three, four, five years old.

And that, until then, it'd just be him and Sirius; which was never bad, no, but Harry was always left longing for his mum.

Wondering why she was never there.

Harry swallowed, reaching up to wipe at a tear that managed to fall; knowing it was pointless to be angry about it now.

Harry knew what he had to do.

There was no point in denying it and they – his mum and Snape – were obviously just too upset to tell him, themselves, and his mum was here this time.

She was here now.

Harry sighed and made his way across the room to where she stood, pouring glasses of pumpkin juice, that Harry declined when she raised an eyebrow, in enquiry.

His mum frowned, seeming to pick up on his mood – his brooding – that time, and put down the bottle she held.

"Harry?"

"I know what I have to do."

She just looked at him, not saying anything for a second. Giving nothing away, even when she finally did.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said; "The horcrux."

His mum's eyes drifted then, from Harry to Snape, over his shoulder and Harry felt a surge of annoyance that, even now, she wouldn't have it be just about them.

"Harry."

"He'll never die as long as I live. It's the prophecy, it foretold it," Harry tried for bravery, for strength; "I'm gonna have to die."

"No. No, you are not," his mum said, fiercely, making Harry frown in confusion; "We'll find another way."

"What other way?"

"We'll find one," his mum said, with such certainty that Harry's sadness and his anger and his annoyance was suddenly replaced with hope.

That maybe he'd got it wrong.

"I've been looking – searching – for months –"

"And did you find anything?" Harry asked, eyes upon hers and daring to feel that flicker of hope.

"Not yet. But – we just need time."

Harry's eyes lowered when he realised that it was just another one of them.

More of his mum's empty promises.

He did have it wrong.

They didn't expect him to die.

But, suddenly, it all felt worse. That they wanted him to go on living, in spite of the fact.

Another lie except, this time, he'd be a part of it.

Anchoring Voldemort to life – letting him kill and tear apart who knows how many more people – while they played happy families, pretending that was fine because they were all that mattered.

No.

"We don't have time, Mum," he whispered.

He felt a tear slip down his cheek when his eyes closed, and he allowed himself, this time, to really think about the life he'd thought they'd been fighting for. And how happy he'd felt when Daphne had come to the Foundation. And how happy he'd felt when Snape had come for them.

How much he wanted more time.

He wanted to make all those silly promises that fifteen-year olds make to their girlfriends – to Daphne – and give her a promise ring that he'd never seen the point of until now and tell her that they were forever and mean it.

He wanted more time with this stupid, messed up family, with Snape – finally – as his father.

He wanted to watch, proudly, as Grace, his baby sister, started Hogwarts and he wanted to chase off any of the boys that dared go near her.

He wanted to see her grow up.

He wanted to grow up.

"Harry."

"We don't have time, Mum," Harry bit out, again, angrily now, "Every extra day I go on living, is an extra day he goes on living, and more and more people die. How long did you want, huh? How long did you want me to live my life lying this time? A month? A year? Another seven?"

"Stop. "

"As if you haven't already wasted my whole life chasing your stupid fantasies."

His mum looked stricken then.

Knowing it was true. Even if she didn't admit it. Didn't say she was wrong. Or, even, that she was sorry.

She didn't say anything.

And her silence only enraged him even more.

"Bet it was easy for you lying to me about this, actually," Harry glanced away, feeling it all now.

All the hurt, the betrayal, everything he'd buried and told himself didn't matter.

"Not like you haven't had enough practice. Telling me that you not being with me is worth it for whatever stupid rainbow you're chasing next," Harry got a wry smile, lifting his shoulders; "Well, you know what mum. It wasn't worth it. This wasn't worth it!""

"Stop it," his mum snapped; "You're my son. I did it for you. To protect you."

"Don't."

"Harry."

"Don't, Mum. Do not stand there and say that you did all of this for me. That you passing me off on Sirius and Remus all those years was for me. That you lying to me for seven years about Grace and having a whole other life without me, was for me. Don't stand there and tell me that you are willing to let a war go on, as if that's something I'm supposed to just go along with and be grateful for."

"That's not fair. This is our family. Our life, together, the four of us. It's everything that we have been fighting for."

Snape stepped up beside him, then, but Harry only vaguely registered it.

"How could we tell you, Harry?" her eyes went to Snape; "We knew what you'd want to do. And after all that we've been through, how could we live without you there with us at the end of all of this?"

"You knew what I'd want to do?" Harry repeated in disbelief; "You have never thought about what I want. It's always - always - been about you and what you want our life to look like. Mum. All I ever wanted was you. I wanted you to see me."

"I've always seen you, Harry."

"No. No, you haven't. Because if you did, you'd know that I could never live with myself if I let any more people die for me," Harry released a breath; "I'm not lying and hiding from the truth. That's all our life has ever been, Mum. Just you dragging me from one lie to the next and calling it love. I'm not doing it anymore. I know what I have to do. And the only way you can stop me is if you kill me yourself."

Harry pushed by Snape then – shaking off the hand that attempted to grab him – and burst out the door to the kitchen.

A silly, dramatic exit that even Harry knew would never go anywhere because Malachi lived in the middle of the sea and he was an underage wizard who couldn't apparate yet, so he just stalked up to the edge of the lake and waited.

Waited for who he knew would be coming next.

Snape stepped up beside him a moment later.

"How could you do that?" Harry rounded on him, furiously, "You've been out there, you've seen everything. How could you let them fight knowing that you were just going to keep on protecting me? What was the point of you even being there if you knew we could never win?"

Snape met his eyes.

"Because you're mine."

Harry stared back at him.

He'd wanted to hear it for so long – that Snape cared for him, and that he was his – but not like this. Not for this and Harry shook his head, looking away.

Angrier, now, that Snape had ruined this moment.

Tainted, forever – not that Harry's forever was much longer – with lies and deceit and betrayal and whatever the hell else this was.

But Snape didn't stop there.

"Everything that I have ever done has been for the people that I love."

Harry closed his eyes.

He said nothing to that – nor did Snape say anything more, as if he were waiting for Harry to speak – and Harry wondered if Snape was actually expecting him to say it back.

As if Snape saying he loved him enough to turn a blind eye to the whole world's suffering on his behalf was something that should be rewarded with a declaration of Harry's own love for him in return, rather than the actual feelings Harry had of immeasurable disappointment.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Family first," he finally said, bitterly, when the silence stretched.

"That's right," Snape said, unapologetically.

"Sounds nice, huh. Family first and screw every else."

"It wasn't that long ago you laid the opposite crime at my feet," Snape pointed out, making Harry glare at him at the recollection; "Or have you forgotten your accusation? That I allowed yourself and your sister to suffer on behalf of the rest of the world."

"That's not the same," Harry scoffed; "I wanted you to stop lying – which you didn't - and I would never have asked you to do this for me. You know I wouldn't. You just let me go on thinking that all you promised we'd have was still going to happen, so I'd stop being mad over what happened with you and mum."

"No. The information is recent to us, also."

"How recent?"

"Very."

"Mum said you've known for months."

Snape said nothing to that.

Just eyed Harry, as if he were the one who had a right to be disappointed right now. As if Harry was the one incapable of understanding family and what it should be.

But Harry wouldn't let that shake him. Because he did know what it should be.

It should be light and laughter and love and true.

It wasn't this.

It could never be this.

Harry sighed, finally turning to face Snape, and just saying it for the first time.

"You know, I've wanted this for so long. For us to be a family. For you to look at me like I'm really family. And now –" Harry broke off, drawing in a breath not quite steady; "Now I don't really like it much. What family means to you and mum. Secrets and lies and poison to everyone else around us."

Snape lifted his chin, eyeing him; continuing that stoic, infuriating silence of his, but Harry was beyond caring, now.

"I'm not going to live my life feeling guilty just for being alive; sucking it up - all this crap - just so you and mum can have this life that you two dreamed up to tell yourselves that all you've done has been okay. It's not okay. And I'm not going to run away and hide and leave everyone else at bloody war so I can keep living this crappy life you two made for me."

"Harry."

"I'm going to die," Harry said it, with certainty now, knowing that if they weren't going to face up to it – if they were going to make him do this by himself – then he would just have to.

"I was always supposed to die. Pity it didn't happen sooner, right? All that time you've missed –"

Harry broke off and pushed by him, heading back to the house.

No choice for now.

But he could feel the hurt and the hopelessness and the anger roiling off of him, now, that he was the one who was pushing for it – his own death – because they wouldn't face up to reality and truth for once, and he was always the one that had to suffer for it when they wouldn't.

Always.

He turned back around, noticing Snape still standing there, his eyes upon him.

And he didn't know why he turned around or what he wanted or why he said it, but it blurted from him, anyway, and Harry thought, maybe, he just wanted Snape to say something.

"Don't worry though. If you just forget the last year ever happened, maybe you and mum might be able to convince yourselves that it really was all worth it. When I'm finally gone and you two can go and have that life you had with Grace without me," Harry shrugged; "The happiest days of your life, right?"

Snape kept his eyes upon him. And there was hurt in them.

Hurt, yes, but – Harry realised – it wasn't for himself.

It was for Harry.

Snape drew in a breath before he made the short distance towards him.

He came to a halt in from of him, looking at him consideringly – silent – for a moment while Harry just stared back at him.

Snape sighed, before he nodded.

"Alright."

Harry frowned.

"If that is your decision."

Harry drew in a breath. Uncertainty coming upon him, at Snape's concession – his permission to die - like the child he was, facing death.

Snape's hands went to his shoulders then, surprising him, and Harry looked up at him, searchingly.

Not entirely sure what Snape meant by it, at first.

Snape's gaze warmed and, rather than looking disappointed, now, Harry was sure he could see the tiniest flicker of pride.

"But you are not doing this alone."

Harry's lip trembled, then, his eyes lowering.

Realising, only in that moment when the words were spoken, that that's all he'd wanted to hear.

That he wasn't facing this alone.

And then he felt Snape pull, only ever so slightly, but it was enough.

Enough for Harry to step forward and find it – comfort and strength and understanding – as Snape held him tight in his arms.

Regulus sat on the chair, staring out the window of his and Julia's bedroom, with the baby curled up asleep on his chest and Julia asleep – still having not regained consciousness – on the bed behind him.

A quiet knock on the open door had him glance in its direction; seeing Severus.

Regulus inclined his chin.

Severus stepped into the room, his glance going to Julia for a moment, and his tone was soft – softer than it would normally be – as he asked; "Has there been any change since I administered the potions?"

Regulus glanced at her.

"She's not so cold."

Still too cold for the baby not to cry when Regulus had tried to place him beside her, to see if his son might find comfort in the feel of his mother beside him.

Regulus didn't say that, elaborating no further – in no mood for conversing – and, instead, turned his glance back out the window.

Severus came over, taking the seat opposite – a sure sign that he planned on staying – and Regulus noticed his eyes on the baby when he looked back at him.

"Want to hold your new Godson?"

Severus met his eyes, his lips twitching; "I would not want to disturb him. Not when he is so content."

"Hm. Same couldn't be said for me, I'm assuming?"

Severus did smirk, then.

"Forgive the intrusion. You look anything but content, Regulus. Brooding has never suited you."

Regulus fought a smile as he raised an eyebrow.

"Come to put me out of my misery then?"

Severus just stared at him – not smirking or fighting a smile this time – and Regulus nodded, knowing he'd guessed it right.

"The blood magic will work," Regulus said, assuredly, already knowing the answer. The reason Eugene had not struck him down, while he'd huddled over Julia's form; taunting him about reasons to live.

Severus glanced away.

Enough of a confirmation as any.

"Eugene said as much," Regulus told him; "After…"

Severus met his eyes.

Regulus looked back at him, expectantly.

Severus drew in a breath, before he nodded, confirming the truth.

Regulus stared at him; wondering why he didn't feel it.

There was no sense of triumph or success or gladness whatsoever that he'd been right. That he finally had the answers he'd been searching for, all these years.

It just was.

Regulus lowered his eyes as he touched his lips to the crown of his baby son's head, where he still slept soundly upon him – breathing him in for a moment – before he glanced over his shoulder at Julia.

She was no longer so pale, the blue tint of her features finally changing, back to that healthy pink they ought to be.

"Julia will live?"

Severus nodded.

"Yes."

Regulus tried for a smile.

It faltered but it was no means a reflection of disappointment – for Julia and his boys alive and happy and healthy was the most he could ever ask for – and he drew in a breath, before turning back to him.

"What did Eugene tell you?"

Severus held his look for a moment.

Before – with a flick of his wand – he closed the door.