DISCLAIMER. None of the characters used are a creation of mine. They belong solely to JK Rowling.
Harry stumbld on his feet, his vision still blurred and the cold water from his robes dripping wet onto the carpeted floor of the Lestrange cottage, the darkness caving in around him, the tiny flickering golden lights in each corner falling miserably to warm his numb heart.
'Harry! You're alright!' Hermione exclaimed, running into his arms. 'I was so scared, Harry. Good Lord, Merlin, I'm so glad you're safe.'
He shivered, his arms hanging limp beside him, his pale white hand clutching onto the wood that emanated the barest hint of heat into his skin.
Hermione pulled back as Kreacher's wails split the air, her brows dipping into a deep frown, her eyes wide in shock. Her lips parted, her grip on Harry's robes loosening. He froze as her face lost all colour.
She shook her head furiously, her voice the smallest whisper. 'No, no. It can't be.. he can't.. he, no.. he can't be.. it wasn't meant to happen.' Her lips trembled, 'It was supposed to be.. fine. He was meant to live. He was meant to have a second chance. No. No. I don't believe this. He can't..
'He was meant to live!' She screamed, hot tears of rage streaming down her cheeks. She cried out, her hair cackling with maddening rage as her lungs billowed out the agony within.
Her screams pierced at Harry's heart, turning it ice cold. His gaze lowered in shame as Rab hurried to wrap his sister in his embrace, her falling form perilously teetering on the edges of madness.
'May.. may the Gods have mercy upon his soul,' Rab whispered, his own eyes tearing up and brimming with unshed tears, a black haired boy so vividly painted against the back of his eyelids.
Harry heard a distinct pop sound somewhere behind him, signalling Kreacher's departure, his sobs still echoing into the room. His weary eyes focused, the dim light illuminating the scene before him. He saw Hermione crumble, her arms flailing around and her legs entangled with those of Rab's, both of them a distraught mess on the floor.
Harry's own eyes welled up, his throat burning as the potion's delirious musings left his mind. All thought of needing water had vanished. His voice cracked, suddenly high pitched and yet hoarse. 'I, I couldn't bring his body back..,' he mumbled apologetically.
Rab looked at him painfully, his attempts at placating the raven haired man drowned out by the wailing woman he had nestled in his lap.
Harry felt perversely scarce, his guilt blinding his rational mind. He was to blame, wasn't he? He was the one to make a mess of things. He was the one who had led Regulus Arcturus Black to his death.
Reggie was gone. He was gone yet again without having seen a day into his adult life, never having felt the bosom of a beloved or the caress of a child. He had left the world, bereaved and lost when he wasn't supposed to.
Hermione let out another chilling scream, her gut wrenching sobs the only sound in the quiet silence of the room, her voice wavering into hysterics every once in a while. Rab struggled to hold her still, his fingers running patterns across her back, his face pressed close against her shoulders.
Every breath Harry took felt hollow, the shadows of his mind creeping in on him. He could feel the guilt take firm roots in his heart, a lonely wraith amassing in a garden of the dead.
He remembered nothing of the night that followed except the ache he felt somewhere deep, deep inside him. Something had pulled him away from the sight of his only remaining family so haunted by what he had done. His feet carried him away from the wreckage, outside into the wilderness that surrounded the cottage, his heart stuttering out quiet apologies out into the open skies.
He had failed himself. He had failed the people he loved. What would Ron be thinking as he looked down at him from wherever he was now?
He had made no difference. He had made Hermione follow him into the uncertainty of the unknown. He had dragged her across the whole wide Universe to reach a semblance of a world he would perhaps never remember. Had he lost everything and everyone just so he could lose them all over again?
Of course he hadn't known Reggie. He had only known the legend of the man who had been the first to brave Voldemort's fury. He had spent months endlessly thinking of him with reverance, a stunned respect for the man who had fought against the very shackles that had drugged him into a state of servitude.
He felt a cold chill overcome him, his wet robes sticking to his body. His weak and weary body dropped down haplessly, his legs giving out as the fight left him altogether.
How long had it been? He couldn't tell. In most ways his entire life had been a never ending battle. Perhaps he never ought to have been born. Maybe be could have saved the world some trouble.
His head bowed in shame as the cowardice of his thoughts registered in his mind. He cursed softly, his voice a broken whisper, a forlorn prayer. He didn't care anymore.
Why did it have to be him?
His mind conjured grotesque images of Reggie's lifeless body floating along the surface of the lake, just another one of the Inferi. No longer a brave soldier. Just another flimsy, little puppet, forever adrift and lost. He would have no grave. He would have no resting place. He would just be.. gone..
His fingers absently grazed against the carved letters into the wood held in place by a strand of tight leather.
S and R, it said.
A wave of grief overcame Harry as he imagined the younger version of his Godfather break down into a heap of limbs when he would find out the truth of his brother's life, his body bent double as tremors of misery overshadowed each conscious thought, his innocent grey eyes peeking helplessly at his chosen brothers but none ever counting up to the little boy he had kissed every night before bed.
Harry wiped at his eyes angrily. He was at fault. He was always, always at fault. He never stopped, did he? Not in his own world and not in this. He was a curse. He was poison and he had no right to be grieving.
'No right,' he spat venomously, his voice a strange absurdity in the cancerous silence.
He spent hours slipping between the realms of sleep and wakefulness as the velvety night sky turned into the orange shades of the breaking dawn. Every time his head dropped to the side he found reality crashing in on him, the gaunt face of the younger Black forever etched in his mind.
So many lives had been lost for his safety in his previous life. Was this just the beginning of a similar fate? His chest throbbed at the thought but he felt no pity for himself. He had to bear the pain. He would bear it because the dead deserved it.
He felt a warm hand on his back, as a sudden weight buried itself against his side, an arm wrapping around him snugly. Harry didn't have to look up to know who it was. He could feel it in his bones.
'I bet you can't bear the sight of me anymore, Rab,' he mumbled, his eyes staring blankly at the tiny bird hopping on its feet in the distance.
Rab took in a sharp breath. 'Is that what you think?'
Harry's gaze dropped.
'I made a vow to you the day I took you in,' Rab said, his voice stern but not unkind. 'You're no less precious to me than Mi is. You're my brother from this day to my last, Harry. Don't you dare insult me by ever thinking otherwise.'
Harry felt tears trickle down his cheeks, a sob rising up his throat. He leaned into Rab's chest, a childish need to be held close rearing its way up.
'Maybe if I had been stronger, quicker or braver, he might have made it,' Harry cried out, not one memory of being held so tenderly by a parent or a loved one finding its way in his mind.
'You were all those things and more.' Rab patted him tiredly. 'You were all those things, you hear me?'
'Then why did he have to die?' He yelled. 'Again?'
Rab sighed. 'Who can tell how Death works, mate? It never stops. It is always fair.'
'That doesn't make it better.'
'I know,' Rab whispered, chuckling darkly. 'It never does. But I know you will make it, the both of you. You and Mi will make it to the end. You will win this war and you will see your family live. You will make it.'
Harry fell silent, his breathing once again becoming even and level. He rose his head, dusting his robes and getting up on his feet. He ran a tired hand through his hair, his eyes squinting at the rising sun.
Thoughts of Hermione's well being invaded his mind and yet he remained quiet. He didn't deserve to know.
'It's late,' he said absently. 'I should probably leave.'
Rab frowned, the sight of Harry's bloodshot eyes and his splotchy face tugging at his heartstrings. 'Why aren't you with her, Harry?' He paused. 'She is your family. She is your sister.'
Harry visibly flinched at the accusation. 'I am doing her a favour by staying away.'
Rab shook his head. 'And how could it possibly be a favour?'
'She cared immensely for Regulus and I led him to his death.'
Rab smiled timidly. 'All these years. How long has it been? Two decades perhaps? Close to it? And you still doubt the intensity of her feelings for you. She could never turn you away, Harry. She loves you too much to even think about it.'
Harry shrugged helplessly, 'It would do her well to not see me for a while. Besides, she has you now.'
Rab's brows rose up into his hair. 'What I have with Hermione is undoubtedly profound and true. But your love for her and hers for you? It transcends time. It stood the test of Death itself and yet you think someone else could ever replace what you are to her? Nobody, myself included, could even come close.' He shook his head and breathed out deeply, looking away. 'You are not going anywhere. You are coming with me.'
Harry sighed and grudgingly followed Rab into the house, his shoulders slumped and his head punding with pain, a crisp, cool wind badgering against his face.
Harry let himself in, tumbling into the living room as he watched Rab ascend the stairs and disappear from sight. He dragged himself over to the mahogany table in the centre, his hands working their way to a clear bottle with pale yellow liquor inside. He twisted out the cork and took a speculative sip, his face turning into a sour expression as he shuddered. He added a long pour to one of the empty goblets, picking it up and swirling its insides with disinterest.
'Come on up now,' Rab called out.
Harry shut his eyes tight, feeling the liquid warm his body from the inside. He took a deep breath and followed, going up the stairs, one step at a time. He swallowed a gulp of air as Rab hinged the door to Hermione's bedroom open.
Harry nodded at him absently, his feet taking him inside, the wooden floor creaking underneath his weight. The door slammed shut, leaving Harry alone to douse through the silence and towards Hermione, burrowed deep into linen sheets, her brown eyes intent upon Harry's.
He made an attempt at a smile which turned out to be nothing short of a grimace.
Hermione chuckled sadly, propping herself up against the pillows, her piteously red rimmed eyes hollow. She outstretched her arm, beckoning him towards herself.
Harry berated himself for his ignorance. Hermione could never hate him. She was his touchstone. His only surviving family. Of course she needed him the way he needed her.
He cursed his morbid thoughts and made a run for her, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace, the warmth of her breaths fanning across his neck a pleasant change.
He pulled back slightly, straightening himself and climbing into the bed beside her, throwing off his boots to the side.
'I would like to believe he's in a better place,' Hermione murmured. 'I hope he is at peace.'
Harry bowed his head. 'I am so sorry, Hermione. I can understand how terribly hard it must be for you to forgive me but I swear I never..'
'Hush,' she said calmly, her fingers touching his mouth lightly. 'It wasn't your fault. He.. he died long before he should have but it was not your fault.'
Harry nodded numbly, guilt weighing in on him.
They leant their heads against each other's in communion, their arms gripping tight.
'Sometimes I wonder if it even matters that we came back,' she said, shrugging her shoulders sadly. 'Marlene's family died. Reggie is gone too. Who is to say that perhaps we're in the wrong trying to steal away from Death his rightful children?'
'I'd like to think they're morbid coincidences,' Harry offered, his own mind plagued by similar fears.
'Every action has a consequence. You reckon whatever Gods there are are dismayed at the unnatural nature of what we have done?'
'You have to stop thinking about all this, Mione. It isn't going to help relieve you of any pain. Might as well accept what the fates have in plan for us.'
She sighed. 'I feel wretched.'
'I know,' Harry mumbled, his fingers fiddling with hers. 'He was so, so brave. He saved me. He saved my life.'
'And in doing so he saved the world,' she smiled wryly.
'I wish it didn't have to be this way,' Harry wiped away the tears in his eyes. 'I wish he didn't have to go.'
Hermione's voice cracked. 'I can't stop imagining his face. I can't believe he's never going to show up again. He's left us. He's never, never coming back.'
Harry threaded his fingers through her unruly curls, their breaths mingling as they sobbed quietly.
'He was a wonderful friend,' she said. 'The best. The bravest.'
'Another face to look for in the afterlife,' Harry whispered morosely.
'I have seen almost everybody I loved ripped away from me. I have seen the light leave their eyes and I have felt the pain they leave behind. And yet every other one of them..,' she sighed. 'His death is a grave wound across my heart, Harry. I will never see him again.
'I remember him when he was a child. Always so lively. He hated his mother. His home. But the devotion he had for Sirius was awe inspiring. I have never seen somebody so loyal to another soul. And now when I think of how he parted from his brother..'
Harry patted her back, rubbing soothing circles against it.
'He was weighed down by things he ought never have seen and yet he fared so well. He never complained. He never cursed his life. To think what's happened to his.. body.' She felt another hot trail being left behind on her cheeks. 'I miss him..'
'He deserved a lot better,' Harry murmured. 'He was dealt a rough hand.'
She sniffed. 'I am so tired of losing, Harry. We have lost so much. I am just so, so tired. Please make it stop,' she begged, burrowing closer into his chest.
'And how exactly do I do that, Mione? I am grasping at the edges here. I haven't the slightest idea about what to do. Most days I feel like dying,' he said flatly.
She gasped in horror. 'And what would be left of my world without you?'
Harry smiled through his tears, his forehead touching hers gently.
He bit his lip, the muscles of his back suddenly tensed. He wished to tell her, he really did. It was almost at the tip of his tongue and yet as he saw her tears glistening against her pale skin he couldn't quite bring himself to plough on her even more of grief. He would shelter her from the pain for as long as he could and rue the day she finally discovered the secret he kept hidden. It hurt him immensely to be hiding something from his best friend but he held his tongue, his courage once again failing him.
AN: Hey, you guys. Thank you so much for the response you've shown to this story. I couldn't be happier with the audience I have here. Each one of you is so incredibly vital to the development of this fic. I know it has taken a rather desolete turn with Regulus' death but it was always going to be this way and I sincerely apologize for it. But I suppose it is what it is..
I just wanted to let you guys know that the updates are going to be slower than usual since my holidays are now over and I have to get back to my studies. I will be updating weekly and sometimes maybe even fortnightly. But rest assured I will NOT abandon this story no matter what. It will be finished.
Once again, thank you so much :-)