The dim light of the study cast a melancholic ambiance over the room, with the dusty air swirling in the rays that filtered through heavy, black curtains. Orion sat in his favorite leather chair, the creaking sound of the old mahogany echoing in the silence. His fingers gently caressing the cold, metallic surface of the family ring that had once adorned the finger of his heir.
In the stillness of the room, he unfolded the letter he clutched in his other hand. The parchment crinkled softly as he spread it open, revealing the elegant penmanship of his son Sirius.
The patriarch sighed, his gaze fixed on the words that seemed to leap off the page. "Father," it began, the formality of the salutation doing little to mask the weight beneath the surface.
"I hope this letter finds you well, though I can't say the same for myself. I've made a decision, one that I've contemplated for far too long. I've left Grimmauld, and I'm not planning on returning."
Orion's grip tightened on the family ring, the metal biting into his palm as he continued reading. Sirius's voice echoed through the parchment as if he were in the room, "I don't know why I'm writing this. Perhaps it's the remnants of the manners you and Mother instilled in me." The irony underscored those words, a reflection of the strained relationships that defined the Black family.
"Manners," he muttered to himself. "That boy never did understand the importance of tradition."
"And as for Grimmauld," Sirius continued, bitterness bleeding through, "there's nothing left for me there. Reggie and I don't talk anymore, and there's no reason for me to stay. Consider this a farewell. The (no more) Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. S.O.B"
A mixture of sorrow and frustration etched across Orion's face as he set the letter down on the polished wooden desk. "That boy," Orion whispered to himself, the words barely audible in the quiet room. "He always did have a twisted sense of ."
In a blink, the elf materialized before him, bowing low with a wrinkled, toothy grin. "Master Black calls, and Kreacher answers. What does Master require?" The house-elf's voice was a raspy whisper.
"Fetch my youngest son, Regulus, and bring him here," Orion commanded, his gaze unwavering.
Kreacher bowed again, disappearing with a snap of his fingers. The study was left in silence, the only sound the faint ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. Minutes passed before the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing Regulus standing at the threshold
The youngest Black son, with dark hair and a demeanor that mirrored his father, entered cautiously. "You summoned me, Father?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Orion's stern expression hardened as he lifted the family ring and tossed it across the room. Regulus, his Seeker reflexes honed from countless hours on a broomstick, caught it with ease. The metal object gleamed in the dim light as it landed in Regulus's palm.
"Sit," he commanded, his gaze piercing through Regulus. The younger Black obeyed, taking a seat in a chair opposite his father, the family ring now resting on the table between them. "Do you know anything about this, Regulus?"
"I know enough," The teenager replied cryptically, Regulus, his eyes meeting his father's with a blend of defiance and resignation.
Orion's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk. "Explain yourself, boy."
"It's all part of her plan," Regulus sighed, his gaze never wavering. "Sirius left Grimmauld because I purposely pushed him towards leaving. I don't actually hate him but I needed to get him out of this place. He's a bloody Gryffindor, you know how defiant he can get. If Voldemort happens to set foot in Grimmauld I'd prefer if he wasn't here."
"You orchestrated your brother's departure?"
"She did. Hermione and I planned it together. He's arrogant and prideful." The youngest Black let out a laugh, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "It wasn't that difficult to hit a nerve."
"You used his own nature against him," Orion mused, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, you've certainly inherited the family talent for manipulation."
His son chuckled, a wry smile forming. "It comes with the name, doesn't it?"
"You're trading your freedom for your brother's. That's very Gryffindor of you, son," Orion teased, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful smirk.
Regulus, sitting across the desk, shot his father an indignant glare, his expression a mix of offense and hurt pride. "I am not an idiotic Gryffindor, Father. I resent that," he declared, his pout giving him an air of defiance that mirrored Sirius, a fact that drew a soft chuckle from Orion.
"As long as I have her by my side, that's the only freedom I need," His youngest admitted, a wistful smile playing on his lips.
Orion raised an eyebrow, his amusement giving way to a genuine curiosity. "How's she doing? I haven't heard of her in quite a bit."
"Pinning after Potter, that's what she's doing." Regulus groaned, a theatrical display of exasperation that seemed more reminiscent of a teenager than a scion to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. "Father, it's insufferable. She's wasting her time with James Potter of all people."
Orion's raised eyebrow remained suspended in the air, his curiosity piqued. "Well, that's quite the revelation," he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. "Do I have to have a talk with that young man?" he chuckled, the sound resonating through the study like a low, rich melody.
"It's not funny, Father," his son protested, crossing his arms with an air of indignation. "She's dating him now, and I have to endure Potter's sickening declarations of love. He's everywhere, it's like I can't have a moment alone with her."
"So, you're jealous, my son? Jealous that she is dividing her attention between you and James Potter?"
Regulus's cheeks flushed, a rare vulnerability betraying his composed exterior. "I'm not jealous! Blacks don't get jealous. It's just... frustrating. We've been through so much together, and now she's off with Potter."
The atmosphere in the study shifted abruptly, tension replacing the lightheartedness as a Patronus, in the shape of a fawn, delivered its message. The shrill, feminine voice filled the room, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene ambiance.
"REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK! I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU. YOU ARE A DEAD MAN THE MOMENT I SEE YOU ON THE TRAIN! DON'T TRY TO RUN AND HIDE BECAUSE I WILL FIND YOU."
Orion, momentarily stunned, could only manage a low whistle. The patronus dissipated into the air, leaving a charged silence in its wake. He turned his attention to his youngest son, who sat there wide-eyed, a mix of fear and realization dawning on his face. "Well, well, well," he let out a low whistle, his brows lifting with both amusement and curiosity. "She's got the Black temper. What have you done, son?"
Regulus swallowed hard, his throat working visibly as he found his voice. "Remus may have found out that his sister is a time traveler." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes darting around the study as if searching for an escape route. "I might have, uh, mentioned that Hermione is not exactly from our time. Accidentally. It just slipped out."
The air was thick with tension as Remus aggressively clanked tea cups and banged utensils, preparing tea with a fury that matched the storm brewing within him. Hermione watched him with a mix of worry and regret, her eyes darting between him and the teapot.
"Remy," she began tentatively, her voice a gentle plea. "Please say weren't…You weren't supposed to find out like this."
He whipped around, his usually calm and composed demeanor replaced by a turbulent storm. "I wasn't supposed to find out?" he spat, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and confusion. "You're a bloody time traveler, Hermione! Do you realize the implications of that?
Hermione winced at his outburst, her eyes brimming with regret. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Regulus and I—You weren't supposed to find out. I have every right to keep that secret from you."
Remus slammed the teapot down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the kitchen. "The right?" he scoffed. "This is madness. Are you really my sister or have you been faking it all this time?"
His sister tried to approach him, her hand reaching out as if to comfort him, but Remus recoiled as if her touch burned. The hurt in Hermione's eyes was palpable. "Remus, please. I'm still your little sister. Nothing has changed, trust me."
He turned away, pacing the small kitchen, his frustration evident. "Trust you? You've lived a completely different life, and you kept it from all of us! Do you realize how much this changes everything?"
"I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to protect you, have to understand—"
Remus stopped his pacing and faced her again, his expression a mix of anger and sorrow. "Protect us? That's a funny way to put it."
"Don't you fucking dare," she glared at him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I would never do anything to harm you, our family or our friends. I've been trying to prevent the tragedies of the future."
He let out a bitter laugh, his frustration boiling over. "Change things? You can't just fucking rewrite history, Hermione!"
But before she could utter a single word, he forcefully pushed past her, storming out of the took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, as she wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks. She couldn't let her brother walk away like this, not when the truth had finally surfaced, tearing through the carefully constructed facade she had maintained for so long.
With determination, she hurried after him, catching up in the corridor just outside the kitchen. "You can't just walk away from this. We need to talk about it."
He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Talk about what? That everything I thought I knew is a lie? And what gives you the right to play with time, Hermione? You've altered our lives without our consent."
"I know it's a lot to take in, but I did it because I love you. I love all of you. I couldn't bear to see the people I care about suffer."
His anger seemed to waver, "Love doesn't justify deception, Hermione."
Her voice softened, pleading. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to make things better."
"Better for who, Hermione? Better for us or better for you?"
She took a moment to collect herself, her hands trembling at her sides. "This is not about me," she insisted, her voice cracking. "I never wanted any of this for myself. I did it because I couldn't bear to see you suffer, to see all of us go through the pain that awaited us in the future."
"How do I know what's real anymore, Hermione? It's like I don't even know who my sister is."
Hermione's eyes widened, and the pain in her heart mirrored the shock on her face. The accusation had hit her with the force of a physical blow, and she recoiled as if his words had slapped her.
Remus's realization of the impact of his words hit him like a punch to the gut. He watched as his sister visibly crumbled before him. Her eyes, once filled with fiery determination, now held a mix of hurt, shock, and a depth of sorrow that pained him to witness.
"I didn't mean it like that, Hermione," Remus stammered, regret washing over him. He reached out, attempting to bridge the growing emotional distance between them, but she pulled away, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and anguish.
"Don't," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Don't act like you understand everything. You don't know what it's like to carry the weight of the future on your shoulders, to see the horrors that could befall the ones you love."
Remus clenched his fists, frustrated at the widening gap between them. "I never said I didn't understand, but this— it's too much, Hermione. It feels like the ground beneath me is shifting, and I can't find solid footing."
Hermione's eyes bore into his, a fire rekindling in her gaze. "I have the right to be happy, you know? I have denied myself millions of times the opportunity to be happy by trying to keep things the way they were. I have lived a fucking war, I have bled a war. I have seen the pain it causes and how it destroys the lives of people." Her voice trembled with the weight of her experiences, the sacrifices she had made.
"Who are you to tell me that I can't change that?" she continued passionately. Her voice, though strained, held an unexpected fierceness. "You don't know what you're facing; I do. Do you really think you're prepared to go to war? You have no fucking idea."
Remus, now caught between guilt and realization, struggled to find words. For a moment, the siblings stood locked in a silent struggle, the echoes of their emotions reverberating in the strained atmosphere.
"But if you want to fucking die, be my guest," she spat out, her words laced with a bitterness born from the years of sacrifice and pain. With a wave of her hand, as if severing the final threads connecting them, she Disapparated, leaving her brother alone in the suffocating silence. The pain in Hermione's eyes haunted him as he crumbled to the floor, he realized that he had pushed his sister to a breaking point, revealing fractures in their relationship that might never fully heal.
The torrential rain seemed to increase as she apparated onto the grounds of Potter Manor. The drops fell with a relentless force, as if the heavens themselves wept for the fractured bond between siblings. She stumbled towards the grand entrance, the tears in her eyes blending with the raindrops cascading down her face.
Summoning what little strength remained, she rang the doorbell, hoping that James would be the one to answer. Instead, the door swung open, revealing Dorea, James's mother. The warmth of the manor's interior contrasted sharply with the cold, wet world outside.
Dorea's eyes widened in concern as she took in Hermione's disheveled appearance and tear-streaked face. Without a word, she crumbled, her sobs escaping uncontrollably. The weight of her secret, the confrontation with her brother, and the crumbling of her family had finally taken its toll.
"Oh dear," the woman murmured, her voice a mixture of empathy and worry. Without hesitation, she pulled Hermione into a comforting embrace, sheltering her from both the storm outside and the emotional tempest raging within.
Dorea gently guided Hermione into the warmth of the manor, shielding her from the relentless rain "Come," she said softly, leading Hermione to a cozy sitting room adorned with plush furniture and a crackling fireplace. She gestured for the girl to sit, and with a compassionate smile, conjured a warm blanket to drape over her trembling shoulders.
As Hermione gradually composed herself, the storm outside continued its relentless assault, providing a somber backdrop to the fragile peace within the manor. Dorea sat beside Hermione, offering a sympathetic presence without pressing for details. "You're safe here. Take your time."
"I've lost him, Dorea. I've lost my brother." Hermione admitted, her voice choked with residual tears.
Before Dorea could respond with the comforting words on the tip of her tongue, heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. The door swung open, revealing James. A warm smile played on his lips when he first spotted Hermione, but as he took in the state of her tear-stained face, the smile faltered.
"Oh, love. What happened?" The boy's concern deepened as he quickly approached his girlfriend, pulling her into the warmth of his chest.
Hermione's voice, small and fragile, pleaded, "Just hold me, please."
The persistent chime of the doorbell cut through the somber atmosphere inside the house, and Remus blinked, momentarily disoriented. As the bell rang again, he approached the door, expecting to find Hermione on the other side. However, when he opened the door, it wasn't his sister standing there; instead, it was Sirius, soaked and disheveled from the raging rain outside.
"Is your sister home?" Sirius asked, his expression unreadable.
Remus stared at Sirius for a moment before his composure shattered. In that instant, the weight of the revelations, the fractured bond, and the realization that he might've lost his sister crashed down on him. He began to sob uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his emotions.
Worry etched across Sirius's face as he witnessed his friend's unexpected breakdown. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around him and guided him inside the house away from the relentless rain.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, genuine concern furrowing his brow. He had never seen Remus in such a vulnerable state, and the sight deeply troubled him.
"Just hold me, please," Remus whispered in a small, broken voice, his plea cutting through the air.