For Sophy, via GGE. It's late. Oops. I'm a disaster.

Word Count: 1320

"Do you want to talk about it?" Amelia asks, pouring a generous helping of firewhiskey into a glass and setting it in front of him.

Edgar's lips quirk into something that might have passed for a smile under different circumstances. Now, it feels so false, and he knows his sister can see right through it. "Do you really think you need to get me drunk in order for me to open up?"

She shakes her head, pouring herself a glass just as full as his. "No. But I know it helps when you're hurting."

Edgar closes his eyes. Hurting doesn't quite describe it. There's something missing from him now, something he will never be able to get back. He wants to decline Amelia's help and go back to coping on his own.

Maybe he should.

But he doesn't. It has gotten so much harder, and he is barely holding on anymore. With nothing left to do, he sighs, knocking back the glass and savoring the burn of alcohol.

"It was our anniversary."

…

"Do you have to go to work?" Fabian asks, pouting slightly. "I feel like this is an excusable absence."

Edgar laughs. He would definitely prefer to spend the day with his boyfriend, celebrating four years together, but he knows it isn't an option. The world doesn't stop turning just because two young men are in love. He still has to carry on with his day.

Still, he doesn't have to leave just yet. There are still a few blessedly sweet and intimate moments left to share before he has to get out of bed.

He rolls onto his side, snuggling closer and pressing a kiss to Fabian's exposed collarbone. "I'll pick up dinner tonight," he murmurs. "That Italian place you like."

"Mmm…." Fabian runs his fingers through Edgar's hair. "Complete with gelato for dessert?"

"Only an idiot wouldn't get gelato for dessert," Edgar confirms.

Fabian laughs. "Or someone who likes sleeping on the couch," he murmurs.

"You wouldn't dare."

Why does he have to go? It's hardly fair. All he wants is to spend the day with Fabian, not worrying about a thing.

Much too soon, his time is up. Edgar can't risk being late, so he crawls out of bed, dressing quickly and pausing only to kiss Fabian goodbye.

"I'll be back tonight."

Fabian huffs, eyes narrowing slightly. "Tonight is so far away." He presses kiss after kiss to Edgar's face, leaving nothing untouched by his lips.

"You know I'm worth the wait," Edgar says, as he reluctantly pulls away. He wishes he could stay like this forever, but duty calls.

He just has to get through the day. He's done it countless times before.

Gideon is in the kitchen when Edgar passes through. Gideon grins at him, a knowing and suggestive grin. "Good morning," he calls cheerfully. "Sleep well?" There's a teasing hint behind the question that makes Edgar roll his eyes.

"Quite well, Gid," Edgar chuckles. "I'm stopping for Italian tonight. Want anything?"

"Don't tell Arthur," Gideon says, his voice low like they're sharing some great secret, "but you're my favorite brother-in-law. Unofficially, of course."

"Of course."

…

"Four years," Amelia mutters, shaking her head. She sips her drink. On a normal day, she would have kept up with him. Today, though, Edgar knows what she's doing. She's a true Hufflepuff, so kind and good, and she wants to make sure that Edgar has her full attention. "I can't believe it's been that long."

Edgar closes his eyes and exhales heavily. Four years. It felt like a lifetime, like their souls had recognized one another from some distant time beyond this life's memory. They had been meant to be, a perfect match.

He refills his glass, downing it quickly. Amelia is right. The alcohol numbs the pain, if only slightly. For a moment, the screaming in his head lowers to a dull roar, and he can focus.

"I should have…"

He doesn't know what he should have done. All he knows is that he has failed somehow. There must have been a way to keep Fabian safe, and he had overlooked it.

There's a part of his brain that tells him how foolish he's being. If he had stayed, he would have been there during the attack, and it would be Amelia sitting here, alone and drinking to forget. If he had taken off early, Gideon would have been alone, and Fabian would have never been the same.

That night was bound to end in tragedy, no matter what.

…

It's a Muggle restaurant, but damn, they make the best everything. Edgar thinks that only a trip to Rome could rival their food. Besides, they are nice people, and they never judge Edgar whenever he shows up in his Ministry robes and struggles to understand the way Muggle money works.

"Have an extra gelato," the girl at the till says, smiling bright. "It's your anniversary, yes?"

Edgar beams. He's surprised she remembered. Then again, he thinks he's probably rambled about it the last several times he's visited.

"You can never go wrong with more gelato. It'll make the missus very happy."

He doesn't bother to correct her. Muggles are funny like that. They can handle a lot of things, but the thought of two blokes falling in love is somehow not okay. He just smiles and thanks her and fumbles with the strange bills. Maybe he gives her too much money, but he doesn't wait for the change. All he wants is to get back to Fabian.

Takeaway boxes in hand, he sneaks into an empty alley, picturing his boyfriend's house clearly in his mind. There's a tug and a whoosh, and the world around him falls away. It doesn't stop falling until his feet are back on solid ground.

The smile fades from his lips in an instant. The bag drops, and boxes filled with pasta and chicken and bread break open, the small feast spilling onto the lawn.

There, above the house, is a Dark Mark. The skull and serpent loom overhead, menacing and heralding a tragedy within those walls.

…

"I'm on the case, you know," Amelia tells him. "Barty put the file on my desk this morning."

It should comfort him. Amelia is a fine Auror, one of the best. He doesn't doubt that she will produce results.

And yet it makes his chest ache even more. He sets his glass aside; it's as empty as he feels.

"I'll bring their killers to justice," she says. "I promise."

…

He sees a body sprawled across a broken coffee table, and his heart races. Red curls. Familiar red curls.

"No," he whispers.

When he crouches beside the body, he hates himself for feeling relieved. It isn't Fabian. Gideon and Fabian are damn near identical to the untrained eye, but Edgar has spent too much time with his boyfriend not to know the differences. Gideon has a smattering of freckles across his nose that Fabian lacks, and he is so happy to see those freckles now.

Maybe Fabian escaped. Maybe there is hope.

Except he knows better. He knows that Fabian would never leave Gideon's side. Even as he allows himself to stupidly believe in miracles, he sees the broken wand in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

He's on his feet without really thinking about it. His mind says he should run away, but he has to see. He has to know.

…

"There isn't any justice," he says. "Nothing will bring him back."

And with that, he leaves the table, wobbling and stumbling before collapsing onto the couch. He wants to be noble and hopeful and believe that justice can exist in the form of closure, in knowing that maybe someone can be spared from experiencing the pain he feels.

Edgar isn't the selfless Hufflepuff he had been only months ago. He doesn't want justice; all he wants is vengeance.