Chapter Ninety-Seven
Voices and laughter carried on the breeze to where Grace sat on the step of the porch.
She watched as Harry and Malachi joked about on the boat, as Mr. Black rowed them back to shore now that it was almost time for Harry to go.
Everyone was sad today.
Especially her mum.
Even more sad than she used to be, every year through the last week of the summer, when Harry would be all excited getting ready to go back to Hogwarts and Malachi and all the people who waited for him there.
Harry didn't seem all that excited today, though, to be going back.
Grace guessed it was because Malachi wasn't going with him too – which Grace didn't really understand – but Harry smiled, sometimes, especially when he caught her looking.
As if he wanted her to stay happy.
Or, at least, staying pretending that she was.
Grace glanced over her shoulder, through the window that looked into the kitchen, and she could see her mum holding the new baby and talking to Julia – looking even more sad, now that she thought it was just them in there – and Julia stepped forward, giving her a hug.
Grace frowned, looking back in the direction of the boat that was close to the bank now.
The door behind her opened and her dad came out.
"Hi, Daddy."
Her dad followed her gaze, before he gave her a slight smile.
"Had you hoped to join your brother on his fishing trip this afternoon?"
Grace screwed up her face; "No. Yuck."
Her dad made a small puff, like a laugh, before caressing the back of her head, as he looked back out over at where the boat was coming in.
"I trust you will be on your best behaviour this afternoon for Mr. and Mrs. Black."
"Why can't I go with you to Hogwarts with Harry?"
"Because your presence is needed here."
"My presence?"
"Indeed. With Julia only this morning back on her feet, I'm sure she would appreciate your assistance with tending to the newborn."
Grace's eyes immediately lit up; "Really?"
"If you should offer, I'm sure she would appreciate it."
Grace was a bit confused – after all, Mr. Black was staying, too, and he'd managed just fine with the baby before Julia woke up – but she never said that, delighted to get to help with him.
The door opened again and Julia stepped out, along with her mum – the baby back in Julia's arms now – and she hurried up to her; "Julia! Can I help look after the baby with you?"
Julia smiled, nodding, her hand going to her shoulder as Grace reached her side – looking eagerly at the sleeping baby when she did – before Julia said; "Oh, I would love that, Honey. Thank you. I hope you know what you're getting yourself in for."
Julia gave her a wink.
Grace smiled, widely, just as her mum knelt in front of her.
The redness about her eyes made Grace's delight dim a bit, as her mum caressed her cheek; "You be good for Julia, alright? No trouble. We'll be back soon."
Grace nodded; "I will, Mummy."
She was suddenly engulfed in a tight hug, a kiss pressed to the side of her head, and Grace hugged her back, guessing it was her mum who needed such a big hug right now, after how sad she looked.
"Lily."
Her mum drew back at the sound of her dad's voice, before she gave Grace another smile and got to her feet.
The two of them headed away, leaving Grace where she stood with Julia, going to meet with the others who were coming back from the boat, who had now walked close enough that Grace could hear bits of what they were saying from where she stood.
"Thank you, Mr. Black," Harry said, facing him, "For taking us out."
"Oh. It was my pleasure," Mr. Black said, giving him a smile.
"Guess I'm still pretty rubbish at it, though," Harry chuckled, without much humour, giving a shrug; "No fish."
"Makes three of us," Malachi grinned, sharing a look with his dad.
Harry glanced at their mum, where she and her dad had stopped a few feet away, before he looked back at Mr. Black and Malachi; "Guess – um…guess I'll see you…"
Grace wasn't sure if Harry just spoke too quietly for her to hear, or if he actually didn't say anything at all, but whatever he meant made Malachi step forward and hug him, just as tightly as her mum had just done to her before she went away.
Grace frowned, knowing for sure, then, that something was wrong.
It seemed like they hugged for ages before Malachi drew back.
Mr. Black's arm went around Malachi's shoulders, while his free one lifted, putting a hand on one of Harry's; "We're with you, Harry."
Harry smiled at him.
Understanding way more than Grace did about what Malachi's dad meant.
And then he noticed Grace watching and he raised his eyebrows.
"Remember the stars, Grace."
Grace smiled and nodded.
And then her dad stepped forward, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, and drew him away.
The two of them and her mum making their way from the house.
Grace watched after them, with another frown, when she could see that even as they walked away – without Harry's usual Hogwarts luggage – that they all still looked sad.
"Alright then," Mr. Black said, drawing Grace's gaze back to him, and he smiled, brightly, drawing Malachi up to the porch; "I managed to make a little trip down into the village this morning to pick up some of those cakes you love –" he said to Malachi, making his lips twitch a little; "And I dug out those boardgames – the muggle ones – there were such a big hit last year. What do you say, Grace?"
"Yes!" Grace grinned, widely, while Julia and Mr. Black chuckled, as they headed into the house.
But, as they did, Grace glanced over her shoulder; noticing the tear Malachi swiped at that slipped down his cheek as he followed them.
And she knew that this was just going to be another afternoon of pretending.
There was a heavy silence upon the three of them, as they carefully made their way into the village of Hogsmeade – in daylight, as the curfew preventing them doing so, unnoticed, by dark – and it was odd, to be huddled in so close to Snape.
His mum was unrecognisable – having taken Polyjuice which turned her blonde haired and blue eyed – as she walked along beside them, guiding them the way they needed to be.
Insisting that – as she'd moved this way, frequently, in the months of warfare – she'd be less likely to give them away.
Much to Snape's annoyance.
Harry could sense it, still, from where the two of them were concealed beneath the cloak, together.
His mum guided them through the doors of the Hog's Head tavern – careful to halt and keep the door open long enough for them to follow – before she smiled, warmly, at someone who was sitting a little way away, nursing a drink at a table.
Harry felt his heart leap at the sight of his Uncle Remus.
Remus seemed to know who she was, despite the Polyjuice – her smile enough of a hint – and he slowly finished up the rest of his drink so as not to draw too much attention, before he got to his feet.
He gave a nod to someone behind the bar – someone who made Harry do a double-take, for his eyes were so familiar, so blue, that he was sure he'd seen them somewhere before – and then Remus was upon them.
"Come with me," he said, quietly, before he led them away to another room.
There were no more words spoken – much too risky – the three of them just following where Remus led.
It wasn't until they were within a passage – concealed behind a portrait – that anyone spoke.
That anyone being himself, mind-boggled by the discovery of this secret passage that he was certain he'd never seen upon the Marauders' Map.
"This leads into Hogwarts?" Harry found himself asking, unable to help himself, flinging the Invisibility Cloak from himself – no longer needing the cover – as they headed through it.
Remus glanced over his shoulder, his smile for him wide as they carried on; "Well, hello there."
Harry grinned, "Hi, Uncle Remus."
"It's good to hear that voice," Remus said, warmly, still carrying on in his steps up ahead of them; "Yes. Following the destruction of the Foundation, the survivors who weren't captured scattered. Minerva and I were hopeful that we would be able to assist and, just as we thought it – that a safe haven would be needed to take care of those now on the run – the answer came to us in the form of a room. One that has been mostly whispered about in the past, but we have managed to put it…quite to good use."
As Remus finished saying so, he climbed up a few steps that led to another door at the end of the passage and pushed it open, before stepping through.
His mum – still Polyjuiced – followed.
There were voices, Harry realised, hearing them as he approached and jumped down.
"Harry Potter!"
"Harry!"
There were familiar faces everywhere – students, muggleborns, and those who Harry knew from the Foundation – but, before he could really take them all in, he was suddenly pounced on and embraced tightly by Hermione.
"Harry! Thank goodness you're alright."
Harry chuckled, hugging her back, and he met Ron's eyes over her shoulder.
Smiling in relief at seeing them both safe and well.
The excited chatter – the thrill of the room – suddenly died away.
Harry frowned, drawing back from Hermione's arms, turning to look at what had caused the hush.
And he realised, then, all eyes were upon Snape where he now stood – entirely visible – only a few feet in from the passage.
There were mutters – whispers – and Harry could hear a few of them amongst the crowd.
"Greasy git."
"Got a nerve…"
"Murdered Dumbledore…"
Harry stepped slightly in front of him, looking at them all, most of them fellow students but not all.
Some of the hostile glances were from others – Order Members – and Harry could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall all exhibiting the same distrust of him.
"He's been on our side," Harry said, certainly, "He's been one of us, all along."
The looks were still sceptical – but the whispers stopped – and Harry wasn't sure if that was because his words had made a difference – that they believed him – or if they just silenced out of respect for Harry, rather than Snape.
But his thoughts died away when someone – someone wonderfully familiar and welcome – stepped through the crowd, coming to him.
Daphne.
Harry released a breath, going to her, and hugged her tight.
Both of them ignoring the murmured 'awws' and snickers – for a moment it was only they two in the room – before Harry drew back to look at her, simply drinking in the sight of her here and safe before him.
And then he shot a look at all those who were unashamedly staring and the crowd dispersed, a joviality in the air, now, though there were still many less-than-friendly looks shot Snape's way as they all returned to various points throughout the huge room that seemed to resemble the inside of a ship deck; hammocks hanging from the ceiling and House banners flying in all four corners.
Harry turned back to Daphne, smiling at her, despite what today was supposed to be.
Pushing that aside for now.
"You alright?"
She nodded, before she sighed and kissed him.
Harry drew her close; waiting to make their last one count.
They lingered in one another's embrace for some time – not really long enough, though – while he could hear the murmurs of conversation behind him.
His mum and Snape and Remus and Professor McGonagall and Tonks – the only person who hadn't looked at Snape with lingering loathing – and the Weasley's speaking quietly amongst themselves.
Until, too soon, the voices stopped, and Harry knew it was time.
Harry fingered the bracelet on Daphne's wrist – the red and green beads and the owl and the dog – before he met her eyes.
And then he reached up, caressing her cheek, before he kissed her again, unable to help himself – so the last wasn't the last – and whispered, his lips close to hers when he did; needing her to know.
"I love you."
Daphne looked back at him, looking both surprised and delighted, but before she could say anything, Harry felt his mum's hand on his shoulder, and he allowed himself to be drawn away.
She took him to one of the further corners – the one closest to the door that Harry realised would lead out into the corridors of the school – and Snape followed, Remus and Tonks going to the door but not leaving.
Waiting for him, Harry realised.
"Guess this is it, then," Harry said, lightly, when he and his mum faced one another.
Time for goodbye.
His mum struggled, Harry could tell, her bottom lip trembling, slightly. But she drew in a breath – kept herself composed – and she squeezed each of his elbows in her hands.
"You're so brave," she whispered, "And so good. You've always seen everything, so much more clearly than I ever did, my darling. I love you so much."
Harry smiled – fighting back his own tears – and he stepped in, letting her hold him and him holding her, in turn, not really sure who needed it the most.
"Severus is going to go with you," she whispered, holding him; "Just to the door."
Harry nodded, meeting Snape's eyes, gratefully.
Before he stepped away, not meeting his mum's eyes again – nor Daphne's – fearing he might not be able to go through with it if he did.
He felt Snape's hand on his shoulder as they made their way to the door – eyes upon them, now, even if most within the room had no idea what was really going on – and then they stopped, just before heading out of it.
"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks smiled at him.
Harry smiled, "I'm glad you're okay. Got a wedding to look forward to, right?"
Remus smiled, nodding; "That we do. All of us. Need my best man standing up there with me, right?"
Harry did his best not to let his smile turn sad – knowing Remus didn't know what was really going on – and he forced a nod – wishing it weren't a lie – and stepped forward, hugging Remus tight.
Hoping that this hug, alone, would be enough to tell Remus how much he meant to him.
He lingered there for a moment in the safety that his uncle's arms had always provided – surprised when Remus didn't draw back after a time and when Snape remained silent, not urging him to hurry it along – before Harry drew back, himself.
Ready.
He met Snape's eyes, giving a nod. And then the Invisibility Cloak was thrown over the both of them, and they stepped from the room.
"I won again!" Grace declared, delightedly, before she shot Malachi a sly look; "Bet that's really annoying, Malachi?"
Malachi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the dig.
But he wasn't feeling it.
The playfulness that was happening between Julia and Grace – and his dad, though he'd taken the baby upstairs to lie him down, now – and Malachi got to his feet with a sigh.
Just wanting to be alone.
"Wait!" Grace frowned, noticing him making to leave; "I thought you said best three out of five? You've still got a chance!"
Julia gave a little hum of laughter, while leaning back on the couch – looking so tired and almost as weighed down by what was happening as Malachi felt, as if she'd been up all night or something – and Malachi shrugged.
"Maybe later."
He headed away, ignoring Grace's huff of disappointment, and headed up the stairs.
Much as he knew his dad and Julia were trying to keep his mind of it – that Harry had gone away to die – it wasn't working.
All the playfulness and the hugs and his dad's affectionate glances.
If anything, his dad making such an effort to make this day bearable – barely letting Malachi out of his sight since he'd woken up this morning until now – was just reminding him of how bad it really was.
Malachi stepped up onto the landing, hearing his dad's voice speaking softly, and he smiled – recognising the proud little tone in his voice as he did – and he quietly approached, peering into his dad and Julia's room.
His dad was sitting on the bed, his little brother – Nicholas, if Julia had agreed – held carefully in both his hands and his dad's eyes were all for him, as he smiled.
But even past the smile, there was a sadness in his expression as he spoke to him.
"I love you so much already. You, little man, you are going to have such an amazing future, you know that? You have the most amazing Mummy in the whole world and that big brother of yours, oh. Oh boy, your brother, he is going places."
Malachi pursed his lips together, rolling his eyes.
"And so will you. I'll make sure of that, Little Sprout. You are going to be the big bright light that gets them through this. I flatter myself that they're going to miss me a bit."
The smile Malachi was fighting died away then, a frown coming to him along with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"But you've got my nose –" his dad went on, oblivious to Malachi watching him, as he gently tapped his brother on the nose, before he stroked his cheek; " – and my dashing strong cheekbones, I see them already, and I bet you're going to have one killer of a smile. Don't hold off on giving that to them for too long, alright?"
His dad stared at his brother, while Malachi stared at them.
Not really understanding. But understanding enough.
"Yeah," his dad said, softly, smiling a little; "Yeah. I'll have your Uncle Sev bring you back this memory of me, hm? I put it in the letter. So, you have this one. I love you, Son."
His dad pressed his lips to the baby's forehead, while he cooed and wiggled in his arms.
Malachi stared at them.
Part of him wanting to go to him.
To ask what the hell his dad was talking about.
But, instead, he swallowed hard, backing away, and stumbled into his room.
Harry walked along the familiar corridor on the way to the Headmaster's office, Snape at his side, the two of them huddled in close as was required by the size of the Invisibility Cloak.
The corridors were almost entirely deserted, save for the odd Professor, with all the students now away home for the start of the holidays – as far as Voldemort knew – and Harry felt his heart rate speed up a bit when he noticed one of them.
One of the Death Eaters that had been assigned to teach.
Snape nudged him and Harry got the hint, stepping in and the two of them pressed their backs as much as they could into the wall behind them, to give the approaching Death Eater room as he passed.
They were close to the Headmaster's – to Snape's – office now.
They lingered there, side-by-side, for a moment – the cloak doing as it ought to – and, as soon as the person was far enough down the corridor, Snape nudged Harry once more, inclining his chin, and they carried on the rest of the way in silence.
The stopped at the entrance staircase, Snape giving a careful glance around to ensure no one else lingered, before he said; "The password is Dumbledore."
Harry swallowed and nodded, glancing at Snape out the corner of his eye; "Alright."
He made to step out from beneath the cloak – to go – but Snape stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
"Harry."
Harry drew in a breath, turning slightly to meet his eyes.
Snape just stared at him.
Long enough that Harry didn't think he was going to say anything at all.
Until he finally did.
"The snake is the seventh."
Harry frowned.
"The seventh?"
"Horcrux."
Harry simply stared back at him for a second.
Wondering why Snape would even bother to tell him that, when he'd surely be dead within the hour.
Harry nodded; "Yeah. Kinda figured. Seeing things through its eyes and all that."
Snape nodded, slowly, eyes still upon him. With that weird, intense gaze he used to look at Harry with, in the years before he knew who he really was.
Part of him wished it was his mum who was here with him right now. But, the other part of him was glad it was Snape. Someone who wasn't going to send him off a blubbering wreck.
His calm keeping Harry so, in these last moments before he had to face him, as he needed.
Harry drew in a breath and turned away, stepping out from beneath the cloak, and swiftly went to the staircase, speaking the password, without a backwards glance.
Not that it would matter if he did, for Snape would be entirely unseen, beneath the cloak.
He expected to hear footsteps – the sound of Snape departing – but it was a sound that didn't come.
Within minutes, Harry had ascended and entered the office.
He walked slowly to the desk of the familiar room – to the spot he knew he had to stand in – his eyes skimming across the portraits of all the previous Headmasters as he passed them.
All seeming to be asleep.
Harry stood still, bracing himself, as his eyes focused on the spot Snape had seen the horcruxes – the image he'd now imbedded into Harry's own mind – and called on every shred of bravery he had within him. All that foolish bravery he'd mustered up the first time – that dreadful night – that he'd faced Voldemort – foolishly – and Sirius had had to die.
The night it all began.
Well.
Today, it would end.
Harry stared at the spot on the desk, seeing the horcruxes in his mind – where they must be – and he dropped them all. His occlumency barriers that had been steadfast, now, for months.
And he willed it to Voldemort – through their minds – what he was seeing.
Mustered up some excitement, some trepidation – neither of which were difficult in that moment – and willed as hard as he could that Voldemort would see and feel it.
"Aw, his nose wrinkles like yours does, Malachi!" Grace declared, delightedly, as she beamed down at the baby cradled in her arms.
Julia chuckled, glancing Malachi's way, who smiled – though it was clearly forced – and shifted where he sat.
Julia met Regulus' eyes, then, finding him watching them from across the room at the counter, and she gave him a smile, though the concern he felt for his son was mirrored in her gaze.
Regulus smiled in turn, even if hers was resigned – knowing what was to come – and then Regulus' eyes went back to his boy where he sat, miserably, on the chair.
He'd done all he could to make these final moments count.
He and Julia whispered long into the night – more than a few tears shed – before he'd woken early – having barely slept at all – and waited in the kitchen for his son to emerge; pouncing upon Malachi the moment that he did and pestering him until his boy could hold back his smile no longer.
The jokes and the headlocks and the stolen kisses on the side of his head all making Malachi both laugh and scoff – knowing his dad was trying to cheer him up but not, really, knowing the truth as to why – determined that their last day together would be the best of them.
It wasn't, as it happened, for Harry's fate was something that weighed too heavily on his son's mind and his own fate – and what it would mean for them, his family left behind – weighed heavily on his own.
It was something Regulus had always sought to avoid.
He wanted them – especially his son – to remember their last moments together as times of joy.
Of smiles and of laughter.
Not of pain and of grief and with tears of goodbyes.
He had never been good at those.
Regulus had puzzled over his son's letter once again that afternoon – adding in more and scratching things out, explanations and declarations and assurances – before he'd finally sealed it up once more and come downstairs some time after Julia had come to collect the baby – kissing him, soundly, while they could without an audience.
Regulus knew it was their last kiss as it had happened.
He knew his last embraces with his sons had already passed.
A glance at the timepiece confirming the unwelcome truth that was ticking down.
He had to go.
Regulus swallowed hard.
Took one last, long look at his wife and their baby and his son – the family he had so desperately wanted – before he inclined his chin at Julia – now – and then turned and headed down to the basement.
He found the covered portrait he'd dug out from the attic the night before – one he hadn't really set eyes on, properly, in so many years – before he flicked his wand, minimalizing it, and tucked it into the bag he'd brought down with him.
And then he drew in a breath – determinedly – knowing that he couldn't die here – they couldn't see him like that – and headed to the door of the basement that led outside, walking out and onto the grass.
He rummaged through the bag, ensuring he had all he deemed necessary – the portrait and the poison – and zipped it up with a sigh, placing it down on the porch, and turned, to make his way back into the house.
For an excuse or a goodbye, he wasn't quite sure, but he realised – within seconds – what it was going to be when he suddenly came face-to-face with his son.
"Where are you going?"
There was an underlying hint of betrayal in his son's voice – somehow, knowing – and Regulus cleared his throat; entirely unprepared for this.
"I – I have to be somewhere. To do something. Part of the plan."
"Why aren't you worried about Harry?"
"Malachi –"
"Why won't you look at me?"
Regulus reluctantly met his son's eyes, fully, and – as soon as he did – his boy's expression crumbled. The look in Regulus' eyes enough to give it all away.
"No," Malachi whispered; "Dad –"
"Malachi –"
"No, no –" Malachi murmured, shaking his head, his eyes glimmering– broken as he looked at him, already lost – and Regulus released a breath, feeling his own eyes well up as he stepped towards him.
He took his son's head in his hands, forehead pressed to his, while Malachi released a sob, looking back at him, with a look of devastation.
"Listen to me, Son. You are the best thing – the best thing – that I ever did. I am so, so proud of you. I'm so proud," Regulus said, fiercely; "Don't ever change or hide who you are for anyone. You be every bit of yourself. Because you – Malachi – you are the most incredible person that I have ever known."
Malachi sniffed, before another sob escaped him – one Regulus could tell he was trying to hold back – before he murmured.
"I love you, Dad."
Regulus drew him close.
"I love you too, Son."
They stood there, the two of them hugging one another tight, until Regulus eventually felt Malachi's tears subside.
He pressed a kiss to the side of his son's head, holding him close for a second more, and then drew back – determination setting in once more – as Malachi met his eyes.
"Now. You need to go back inside."
Malachi shook his head, speaking more certainly now.
"No. No. I'll come with you."
Regulus smiled and cupped his cheek, shaking his head.
"You can't come with me. Not this time. Not anymore."
"Dad."
"Son. You're the man of the house now. I need you to take care of your stepmum – of Julia – and your little brother. Now –" Regulus gave him a little grin, " – believe you me, I know brothers can be a real pain in the arse -"
Malachi laughed – the sweetest sound – and Regulus smiled.
"- but they do have their moments."
Malachi smiled a little and nodded – an unspoken promise – and Regulus drew him in for another tight hug.
"Now –" Regulus said, when they finally drew apart; "Go."
Malachi drew in a breath – which trembled, though his tears remained in check – before he slowly turned away and headed back to the house – one backwards glance that Regulus reward with a proud smile – and it was only when the door clicked shut behind his son, that Regulus turned around.
Lifted up the bag that was at his feet and headed away.
Severus drew in a breath – eyes on the door of the Room of Requirement – as he waited, with Lily at his side – the Polyjuice having worn off now – with her hands clasped together.
Her knuckles were white with the tightness of her grip.
Severus glanced, slightly, over his shoulder – at the unabashed, still not-entirely-warm eyes that were upon him – and he moved in closer to her, pressing slightly against her to offer her comfort, audience be damned.
Lily swallowed, meeting his eyes with a small smile. Her unease palpable.
"How will we know when it's time?" Lupin's voice spoke lowly from behind them.
Lily drew in a breath, glancing at Lupin before sharing a look with Severus.
Severus held her look for a moment, still feeling the hostile eyes of those who were upon him. Those who still weren't convinced by him, despite what Harry had said and what they all knew about Grace.
His eyes meet Draco Malfoy's – unexpectedly – where he stood several feet behind Lupin with the Greengrass girls. The boy's gaze one of both distrust and disgust as he eyed him from where he stood.
Severus lowered his eyes.
He was, of course, used to distrust.
To hostile glances.
To the disdain by which others would look at him – even before he had done what he did – as he'd endured it for years, now.
Only a small handful of those who truly knew him in his life, who looked at him with more.
Grace.
Lily.
Harry.
Regulus' family.
Regulus, himself.
The thought gave him pause, as he stood there, beneath the hostile gazes of those he fought for and with.
That he was here, standing with them, while the person who'd stood by him – though his best and his worst – died alone.
For Severus knew he'd spare his family the pain of it. To bear witness to his final moments.
Opting, instead, to bear it all himself.
Severus swallowed, meeting Lily's eyes for a moment.
"We'll know."
Lily frowned and Severus reached out, squeezing her arm, before he turned and started to step away – sharing a look with Lupin, an unspoken request that he be there for her – as he made his way towards the exit that led to the tunnel back to the Hogs Head.
Passed all the looks of distrust and disapproval – only Minerva's looking somewhat unsure – with his chin held high, until he shook out the cloak and disappeared beneath it, making his way back through the passage.
Regulus made his way, slowly, through the ruins of the Foundation. Passing by it all.
The ash on the ground.
The shattered glass of the windows.
The debris of all the destruction.
The crumbled stone of the walls.
But some of them still stood.
Regulus' eyes found them as he walked through the remains of the entrance lobby; the still, lifeless portraits of his cousins – Andromeda and Narcissa – who smiled at him from where they were still mounted on the wall.
Regulus drew in a breath, eyes lowering – with familiar regret but he'd be with them, soon – and carried on his way, making to turn into ballroom.
But his eyes caught the headline of the main article which still remained mounted upon the wall – the first to be so – amongst the ruins.
Why Statute Reformists Must Reject the Exploits of the Great Lord Voldemort.
Regulus stilled in his steps as he took in the words of his boy. Awash with pride as he thought of his son.
Knowing, as it did, that Malachi would be fine.
Thought of his strength and his bravery and his awareness that Regulus could only wish he had had when he had been fifteen.
Maybe then things would be different.
But then, maybe, all this wouldn't be almost over, now. If not for his foolish, terrible mistakes.
All the things that he had done.
Regulus walked on by the words of his son – out from beneath the gaze of his cousins – and stepped into the ruins of the ballroom, the walls of which were barely still standing.
His eyes skimmed the room – the destruction – before he went to the nearest table and let the bag he carried on his shoulder slip from it, landing with a thud upon the surface.
He reached in, pulling out the two items, and set them out.
The phial of poison.
And the portrait, that he returned to its appropriate size, and placed on one of the chairs around the table.
Regulus flicked his wand, revealing the portrait beneath.
A simple, empty frame.
Just looking at the background, alone, took him back. Back to those days of his youth, with his mother and father and his brother.
"Phineas."
Silence greeted him.
Regulus called his name again.
"Well. If it isn't my Great-Great-Grandson."
Regulus smiled, while the portrait went on, peering at the surroundings with undisguised curiosity.
"I had wondered at this illusive Foundation that you did not see fit to hang my portrait. It has been a rather long time in the dark since you plucked me from the wall of Grimmauld Place."
"I'd have thought you'd just stay at Hogwarts."
"So, I do. Until this unexpected summons. How could I possible refuse to come, at hearing such a surprising call?"
Regulus raised an eyebrow; "I suppose that means you know what's going on over there."
Phineas Black grinned, eyeing him; "In cahoots with Dumbledore's boy-wonder, are we, Regulus?"
"If you would be so kind," Regulus said, taking a seat on the chair beside the portrait; "I had wondered if you'd keep an eye on what that 'boy-wonder' is up to. And let me know if, perhaps, he should happen to –"
The face of the portrait simply stared back at him for a moment. Before it slipped from the frame, returning to Hogwarts.
Regulus cleared his throat, eyes returning to the phial of poison.
A brief moment of needless wonder as to whether or not he was going to need it.
Before he sighed.
Pondering – wondering – brooding no longer something necessary.
Their victory within their grasp.
The end of the road creeping near.
Regulus swung his legs up onto the chair in front of him, his arms slung back over the chair he was sitting in, and he closed his eyes as he leaned back further, letting his head hang back, and simply waited.
Waited for death.
Harry stood where he was – no idea how much time had passed – simply willing the message – the vision – into Voldemort's mind.
No idea if it was working.
The office was so quiet, so still, that Harry could hear the sound of the portraits – no feigning sleep – moving within their frames, seeming keen to see what he was up to.
He heard their hushed whispers.
Felt their eyes upon him.
His eyes were closed, now, but he could still see the desk and the horcruxes and the Sword of Gryffindor that Snape had given to him – one of his own memories – and he focused all of his energy on that.
Until a voice – high and familiar – sounded behind him.
"Ah."
Harry's eyes opened, as his heart rate sped up.
"Harry Potter. Come to die."
Footsteps on the wooden floor had Regulus open his eyes with a frown, looking at who'd come upon him where he was still sprawled back on the chair.
Severus was stood there – of course – a few feet away, with a little smirk on his face.
"Is this how you wanted us to find you?"
Regulus grinned before he rolled his eyes and straightened up.
Severus' lips twitched in his attempt to hold back a snicker, as he approached and sat down on the chair Regulus had just pulled his legs down from.
"What are you doing here?"
Severus said nothing, just cocked an eyebrow, not looking at him, as he reached into his robes. He pulled out two glasses, placing them on the table, one for each of them, and then reached back in and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey.
Severus filled the glasses and Regulus wondered – though didn't say out loud – why he was here, with him, and not with Harry.
Be he was grateful, nonetheless, as Severus lifted his own glass in Regulus' direction and took a swig, finishing his own off in one gulp.
Regulus smiled and did the same.
Severus filled them both back up.
"How'd you know I'd be here?"
"Where else would you be?"
Regulus inclined his chin in concession, as Severus handed over the glass.
Regulus' eyes glanced around the ruins of the Foundation, once more, that surrounded them.
A legacy that Severus had been there with him, for, from the beginning.
"Do you think it changed anything, Severus?" he murmured, more to himself than anything, eyes still taking in the destruction.
When no response came, Regulus met Severus' eyes. And he was startled by the warmth and the openness that he saw there.
"Yes," Severus said, assuredly, "It did. You did."
Regulus swallowed, staring back at him, as Severus went on.
"You made a difference, Regulus. Much as you refuse to own it. You did."
The two of them held one another's gaze – Regulus surprised by the sincerity and the weight, while Severus seemed not to be at all – before Regulus lowered his eyes, clearing his throat.
"Should we toast to something?" Regulus suggested, when the silence continue to stretch, and they edged a little closer to goodbye than he should like.
"If you should wish it."
Regulus lifted his glass, giving Severus a smile.
"To my last breath?"
Severus didn't smile – all pretence gone, in these final moments, it seemed – and lifted his own glass.
"To the Blacks."
Regulus released a breath – a ghost of a smile on both their lips, then - before lifting his glass.
A toast to the ancestors.
A silent plea that they would not forsake him now.
Harry stood tall, staring Voldemort down, the very same way he had years before.
That very first night.
"We are before one another once more, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, as he slowly circled around him, glinting red eyes at first upon him – Harry feeling the stir of memories even as he drew his occlumency barriers back up – before they went to the empty desk.
The eyes narrowed further as he looked at it.
There were Death Eaters in the room – only a handful – and others could be heard outside. But Harry kept his eyes on Voldemort – his stance and his occlumency barriers holding as strong as he could – as he waited.
Waited for death.
Voldemort looked contemplative for a moment – eyes still on the desk – before he approached him and Harry's hand instinctively tightened on his wand, despite knowing it was needless to fight.
Voldemort's tone was hushed – as if they were sharing a secret – so that the others in the room would struggle to hear what was spoken.
"Do tell me, Harry Potter, how did a meagre being such as yourself happen to get his hands upon my most precious objects?"
Harry simply stared back at him, those his lips twitched slightly, and Voldemort suddenly looked amused.
For a second, their eyes just remained upon one another – Harry full of the defiance he had exhibited from the very beginning – until, suddenly, Voldemort tore through his mind at speed.
He saw so much, so quickly.
He saw Malachi and him huddled close in the Astronomy Tower – his best friend offering comfort – when he'd finally found out the truth.
He saw Harry accusing his mother of never thinking he was enough for her and then, later, telling her that none of this was worth it.
He saw Grace in his arms, her laughter and her innocent questions and the love in her eyes as she looked at him.
Heard her say 'Daddy' and then Snape was there, too.
Snape reading to Grace on the couch – the picture perfect father-daughter – and he saw Snape holding Harry in the Potions Classroom as he broke down and he saw Snape press a kiss to his mum's forehead, where they stood in the dark of the Foundation.
But Voldemort didn't see enough.
Not enough to spoil their plan.
For as soon as he got close to it – "that is the vision you will be sending –" – Harry managed to pull up the barriers, carefully, measuredly – despite the urgency – so that Voldemort wouldn't know he was doing it.
And managed to keep the most important piece of information from Voldemort of all.
That Harry, too, was a horcrux.
And he'd come here to die.
Voldemort lifted his chin, lips revealed slightly in a snarl, but a sound of amusement escaped him.
"An ambush, is this to be, Harry Potter? Set up by Severus Snape, himself. Gone awry, apparently, by his lack of appearance."
Voldemort eyed the room – the windows – the doors – before he met Harry's eyes with the same amusement in his eyes that Harry had heard in his breath of a laugh.
"Well. I'm afraid it doesn't seem as if my devious traitor is going to be here in time to come to his stepchild's aid. What a pity that will be for him. To realise the Godfather has put him to shame."
Harry glowered back at him. Offended on both their behalf – Snape and his Uncle Sirius – but he didn't hold onto it.
He didn't want that to be the last thing he felt.
So he lifted his chin, defiantly, daring Voldemort to do it.
And he did.
"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."
The eyes glinting, only a moment longer, before Voldemort lifted his wand – Harry making a show of doing the same, without any real will to defend himself – and the words were spoken.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Regulus' glass – still full – slipped from his fingers, smashing upon impact with the floor.
The light in his eyes there and then gone.
A second between them.
Regulus' lifeless form slumped to the side in his chair.
Severus kept his eyes on him a moment, lifting his own glass to his lips and finishing off the firewhiskey in a slow sip.
And then he placed the glass back upon the table and got to his feet. He straightened Regulus up, flicked his wand to clean up the smashed glass and liquid at their feet, before casting a patronus message – it took several attempts – and sent it to Lily, to let her know it had happened, now, so that someone could come and retrieve the body.
It was time.
Severus had to go.
He let his hand linger upon Regulus' shoulder – allowed the grief to take hold, just for a moment – and squeezed it, tight.
He said a silent prayer, a wish for him, that his friend would find the peace in the afterlife, that he had never been able to find among the living.
And then Severus' hand dropped to his side, as he swept from the room, just as Phineas Black hurried back into the frame of his portrait.
"Harry Potter is dead!"
Harry's eyes opened.
The flash of green that had surrounded him becoming a blinding white mist.
He was lying on a surface – not a floor – but a something, that was a white as the world around him, and – some time later, or perhaps no time at all – he slowly pushed himself to his feet.
He was naked, he realised, as he glanced around the clean, whitened surroundings – wishing he were clothed – and then, suddenly robes appeared, as if answering his thoughts.
Harry shrugged them on, slowly taking in the large whitened, space around him, not entirely sure where he was at first but then…
It came to him in a moment.
The familiar fireplace from his childhood.
The nook of the window.
The staircase.
He was home.
A sound – an agonised sound – came from behind him but, before he could turn towards it, a hand – he could feel – grasped him by the shoulder, making him look the other way, instead.
His eyes widened, his jaw slackening, as he took in the warm, smiling face that had come to him.
"Uncle Sirius."
A folded, wax-sealed letter appeared in the air with a sparkle of golden glitter in front of Julia's eyes, where she sat upon the edge of hers and Regulus' bed, having just put the baby to sleep.
It fluttered, slowly, downwards, and she caught it in the air before it fell.
Her heart constricting and her throat tightening – knowing what it was – before she'd even broken the seal; opening it to read the words inside.
Julia,
Forgive me.
You made me want to live.
And though our time together was much too brief, know this, that every moment I spent with you; I lived.
I am yours always,
Regulus
Ps. Don't name our baby after a star.