Falling

by trynathink

It had been seven years. Of course they had a little of the other in them. Of course it hurt when the other wasn't there anymore. The separation could have been a day, an hour, a minute, and Grace was sure it would have hurt the same—a cleaver sailing straight through her soul, severing it into two. (Everyone Lives AU; sequel to 'Flying')

20. Blood

Blood

Grace struggles to find the balance between duty and desire.

---

Lily and Dumbledore had been engaged in deep conversation ever since Jame and Sirius left, but Grace hadn't heard a word of it. She'd certainly tried, in the beginning, to keep up as they discussed next steps and safe houses and contacting Order members and the threat of Peter—but she simply couldn't focus on any of it for more than a few seconds before her mind and eyes returned to Regulus.

He was still laid out on the sofa, head comfortably propped up with a floral-detailed throw pillow. Lily had gotten out a soft, gray-knit blanket to cover him with, and though Grace could no longer see the slowly healing gash that had been carved into his chest, she still felt it. She felt the weight of that wound, the terror of it: Inferi scurrying through the cold water, her arms heavy with Regulus as she dragged him through the current. She only had to glance at Regulus to feel all that again. She only had to see his pale face, the slight flickering of his closed lids, the weak rise and fall of his chest as he took in shallow breaths—and she was thrust back into that cave. It was almost as though she hadn't left.

She tried not to think about it. She tried to trick herself, stared holes into the carpet, listened harder as Dumbledore's voice warbled past her ears. But nothing worked. All she could do was think about the cave and the potion and the locket. All she could do was sit and feel her insides tangle up with anger and grief and fear and heartache. She had never felt more fragile, more uncertain. She was hot and jittery, unable to keep her breathing even, unable to keep her hands still or her eyes on one place. She could only think, and as she thought harder and deeper, as she re-visited the cave and wondered where it had all gone wrong, she began to question whether any of it had ever been right. When she arrived late to Hogwarts for her first year and sat alone in Dumbledore's office as he dusted off the Sorting Hat and plopped it on her head, when she had been put in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor—perhaps that was the moment that had decided all this. It might have even been before then, when she begged her parents to let her go to Hogwarts instead of studying at home. If she had given in to them, if she had sat at home and read her books and kept with her medication, would it have all been reversed? Instead of her useless, inhibiting Seer's snag, would she have been cured? Instead of Regulus lying unconscious in front of her, would he have been safe?

"—ace? Grace?"

She turned belatedly, slow and sluggish. "Yeah?"

Lily was standing over her. She bent forward slightly, placed a hand on Grace's shoulder, and gave a light squeeze. "I know you're tired—"

"I'm not," she lied. There was too much to do. She didn't care about the locket, truthfully, or anything to do with You-Know-Who at the moment. But she cared about Regulus. "I just… I'm worried that he hasn't woken yet."

"His body's endured a lot," Lily explained softly. "He'll wake in his own time."

Grace's throat was tight. "All right," she squeezed out.

"Grace," Dumbledore intoned, drawing her attention to him. His hands were folded together, his face still and grave. "I believe it is of the utmost importance to retrieve this locket and place it in a safe location. We may go over the history of the locket, and how you two were able to uncover it, at another time. But the locket itself must be in safe hands. There is much at stake here."

Grace's head ached. She tried to blot out the dull throb. "It's with Regulus's house-elf, Kreacher," she recalled. Before Regulus had been pulled under, she had been overcome by a vision. And before that… "We swapped lockets. Regulus had a family heirloom that was a similar shape. We were going to switch them. When I gave Kreacher You-Know-Who's locket and took the heirloom, he left. He'd been given an order to leave with it, I think."

"I see…" Dumbledore's gaze moved to Lily. "Does Sirius retain the ability to call his family's house-elves?"

"I'm not certain," Lily said. "I think he was disowned, so…"

"Then he has no link to his family's property. A house-elf will likely not heed his call."

"So…" Lily's eyes drew to Regulus's sleeping form, "he's the only one."

"Would it be possible to administer a Strengthening Solution to—"

"Is there a Healer?" Grace interrupted Dumbledore. "In the Order, I mean, is there any of you that's a Healer and can take a proper look at him?"

"Edgar isn't a Healer, per se, but he's certainly the most talented with healing," Lily suggested.

"Emmeline is quite capable in her own right, and she is already aware something is amiss. I'll contact her to come, supposing she is not busy interrogating Peter." Dumbledore glanced at his wristwatch briefly. "It has been more than a half-hour. James and Sirius must be at the manor as well."

Lily brightened. "Oh, we can ask them to fetch some Strengthening Solution from storage as they come back." She looked to Grace and explained, "It'll give Regulus enough energy to bring him to consciousness and keep him awake, too."

"Okay," Grace agreed.

Dumbledore silently conjured his Patronus, a gleaming, silver phoenix, and began to relay a message to be sent to Vance. Lily stooped down beside Grace, tenderly tucking back some of the younger girl's stray hairs. Her eyes wavered silently to Grace's untouched tin of treacle tart.

"Do you want something else to eat?"

Grace's stomach curdled at the thought of food. "No."

Worry shadowed Lily's features. "Are you sure? We have some leftovers—"

"I'm really not hungry."

"What about something to drink? How about some tea?"

Persistency clung to Lily. Grace knew Lily would not stop rattling off different drinks until she agreed to one. After a moment of indecision, Grace gave in, more for Lily's sake than her own.

"Okay…"

Lily dashed to the kitchen like her life depended on it. Dumbledore was still working on his message to Vance, trying to assure her that there was no danger present at the time being, explaining what exactly to do with Peter if he was there yet, and asking for a myriad of healing potions to be brought to Godric's Hollow. As soon as he was done with this message, he began to work on another to be sent to a man named Alastor Moody. Grace watched the silver phoenix listen patiently to its conjurer for a few seconds before her gaze returned to Regulus's still form. She quietly reached over to better pull the blanket over his body. When she was done fiddling with the blanket, she rested the side of her face against the arm of the sofa, gazing up at Regulus with a heavy heart.

Lily soon returned with two steaming cups of tea. She pressed one into Grace's waiting hands and then set the other atop the coffee table for Dumbledore. The old wizard, however, did not notice the tea that was waiting for him, because just as Lily put it down, a silver fox appeared in the sitting room. It was small, with sharp eyes and fur that was so blindingly white that Grace had to look away. It skulked through the air, sniffing around Dumbledore cautiously.

"Pettigrew is not here," the fox said with Vance's voice. "Will stop by the Pettigrew house myself with Prewetts. Longbottoms will keep watch at the manor in case Pettigrew comes. Will send Podmore to you with healing potions."

"What?" Lily's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Then where is—"

She broke off in favor of fetching her own wand to send James a Patronus message. The fox vanished after a brief moment of skittering around the room. Dumbledore conjured his phoenix once more to tell Vance to go ahead with her plan while they awaited a response from James and Sirius. Grace silently watched the spectacle of silver animals appear and recede. She cupped her hot tea tightly, savoring the warmth as it seeped into her hands. She still could not bring herself to raise the cup to her lips and take a sip, but she was growing accustomed to its presence: something warm and sweet. Slowly, as the tea cooled, she calmed.

It was just when she took her first sip that James and Sirius returned. Any worry that they had been outmaneuvered and injured by Peter fled. They were in almost the same state they'd been in before they left, except now there was some soil and crushed blades of grass that clung stubbornly to their robes.

"What happened?" Lily asked, ushering the duo inside quickly. "We contacted Vance, and she said you hadn't stopped by."

Sirius stormed inside the sitting room. James ran a tired hand over his haggard face. Dumbledore watched their entry with thin lips.

"He got away," James sighed, coming over to settle down next to Grace.

His eyes flickered over the untouched tin of treacle tart, and then the cup of tea in her hands. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he leaned fully against the foot of the sofa, head lolling against the armrest.

"Pulled a dirty trick," Sirius muttered. "In retrospect, it might have been better if we'd gone in search of him after cooling down a bit…"

James grunted in agreement. Grace took a long sip of her tea.

Dumbledore, for the first time, looked shaken and surprised. He immediately pulled out his wand and once again conjured his Patronus. The phoenix swirled around him attentively, as he relayed to Vance: "Peter has escaped. Do not go to the Pettigrew house. It will lessen the chance of his return if it has been visited by the Order."

The response was instantaneous. Vance's fox appeared and said, "Too late. Already here. Parents know nothing. Crucial to get Pettigrew before our spies are compromised. Will fan out and search."

Grace's brows furrowed as she heard the message. "How would we be compromised? We've never interacted with Peter before."

"The suspicion will naturally fall to you and Regulus," Dumbledore said gravely, "as you were likely the only new members of Voldemort's inner circle to whom Peter's involvement was revealed."

"That, and we, er, already gave Grace away," Sirius added with a touch of chagrin.

"What?" James, Lily, and Dumbledore all said together.

"Why are you shocked?" Sirius asked James. "Peter said Grace was a Death Eater, and you said she wasn't—"

"But that could—that could meaning anything!" James spluttered. "I just meant, generally—how does that mean I gave her away?"

"You also said she never betrayed you."

"He could take that to mean that I just don't believe him," James argued. "It wasn't as though I screamed in his face that she's a double agent."

Dumbledore heaved another sigh. "This situation…has become nearly impossible to salvage."

A stumped silence followed. Dumbledore retreated to his own thoughts. Lily approached James, who was quietly struggling with something. Sirius collapsed on the armchair opposite Regulus, eyeing his brother with an unusual solemnity. Grace's grip around her barely-touched tea grew a shade tighter.

She should have been appalled, angry, even, that her position was compromised. She should have been stricken, filled with some sense of urgency to fix the situation she was now in. But none of that filled her. Instead, she felt relieved—and it didn't feel good in the slightest. It was treacherous, almost insidious, this relief. It felt like betrayal, because she had said she would do it. She had said she wanted to do it. She had wanted to spy. But spying had caused her so much pain: she had lost her brother and her sister-in-law and her friends. For the longest time, there had been no one to hold onto but Regulus—and now Regulus was lying unconscious with a scar across his chest.

She had tried. She listened to Vance. She stayed quiet and looked on while her enemies laughed in her face—and she hated it every second of it. She hated that when she slept, she saw You-Know-Who's red eyes narrowed on her, the phantom aches of the Cruciatus curse passing through her. She hated that she sometimes remembered Benjy Fenwick's tied and gagged body falling in front of her, the command to kill him still ringing in her ears. Most of all, she hated that she was scared, that she sometimes flinched when You-Know-Who's eyes passed over her, that her heartbeat heightened whenever Regulus was called away by Death Eaters. She felt foolish, suddenly, for thinking she could have been like James: applauded and glorified. She felt sorry for the younger version of herself, who did not yet know how dark the world could be and how utterly vulnerable she truly was.

She wanted to save Regulus, but he almost died tonight. She wanted to be a hero, but she was reckless and frightened. She didn't know where that left her, what else she wanted. Some part of her wanted to rest, but she couldn't bring herself to fully acknowledge the desire. She couldn't rest. It seemed cowardly—but maybe, deep down, she was cowardly. Bravery is love, she had told Regulus right before he'd gone to the cave and nearly died, but she couldn't find it in herself to believe it anymore. If her bravery was measured by her love, if bravery was letting Regulus get dragged into death by Inferi—she couldn't call herself brave. She'd rather be a coward. She'd rather take Regulus, settle into some corner, and hide until the world forgot about them.

"For now," Dumbledore began, drawing all eyes back to him, "we should focus on the reason we were all brought together tonight: the locket."

"That's lost, isn't it?" Sirius said.

"No, it's with your house-elf," Lily explained. "Grace remembered a little while after you left."

"My house-elf?" Sirius repeated doubtfully. "I don't have a house-elf."

"Your brother's house-elf," Lily clarified.

"Oh, that should be easy, then, shouldn't it?" James said, looking to Sirius. "Can you still call Kreacher?"

Sirius scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. I never tried."

Lily frowned, clearly confused. Honestly, Grace was, too, but she couldn't summon the energy to express it. She laid her head against the edge of the sofa. She could feel the back of Regulus's inert hand grazing her scalp.

Dumbledore's gaze locked onto Sirius. "I was under the impression you were disowned…?"

"Well…" Sirius began, drawing out the word. "I was burned off the family tapestry, so I assume I was disowned—"

"Oh, my God," Lily sighed, rubbing her forehead with her hand. "Just try calling your house-elf."

"Okay, but it probably won't work," Sirius said. "He never liked answering to me, even when I was actually a part of the family."

"Sirius," Dumbledore called, "we cannot afford to waste time."

"Er—right, so…" His lips twisted with a grimace. "Kreacher…?"

With a thunderous crack!, the house-elf in question appeared in the center of the Potters' sitting room. Kreacher was weeping noisily, frantically trying to wipe away his tears with the thin material of his toga. The emerald-studded locket Regulus had risked his life for mere hours ago was clutched tightly in Kreacher's hands.

"M—master!" the house-elf cried out, sprinting for Regulus's unconscious form. "I've failed! It cannot be destroyed—forgive me—!"

James jumped at the sudden appearance, scampering up and away from the couch, allowing Kreacher unfettered access to his beloved Regulus. After the fourth or fifth sob ripped from Kreacher's throat, he seemed to catch on that Regulus wasn't awake (otherwise, he would have surely asked Kreacher to please stop crying).

"M—master…?" Kreacher whimpered, looking up at Regulus's still form.

"He'll be fine, Kreacher," Grace said quietly. "He fell into the Inferi lake after you left, but we've—"

"The lake?!" Kreacher cried out, immediately devolving into a new fit of cries and sobs. "I—it—it is all Kreacher's fault! If Kreacher had not left—"

"Sweet Circe," Sirius said under his breath, coming up behind the sofa. He loomed over Regulus and addressed the house-elf directly. "Kreacher, is that the locket Regulus entrusted to you?"

Kreacher looked up, and every ounce of sadness in his little face morphed into utter revulsion as he took in Sirius. "You!" he spat. "Shame of my Mistress, disgrace of our once noble—"

"Yes, that's me," Sirius drawled. "We need the locket you've got, Kreacher. It's important."

Kreacher glared at him. "Kreacher will not hand over such a valuable item to the son who dishonored my Mistress!"

"It's not for me. We're taking it somewhere safe." Sirius let out a breath of frustration. He gestured at Dumbledore, who was watching the drama unfold with a resigned expression. "Look, that's Dumbledore—you know who Dumbledore is, don't you? Mother complained about him well enough that you should. He's taking it so that he can protect it."

"Kreacher will not hand over the locket," the house-elf said resolutely.

Grace's eyes flitted over the weedy, unwavering house-elf. "Kreacher," she began, "what order was it that Regulus gave you in the cave?"

His large eyes turned to her, and in a much more docile tone, he said, "Master Regulus commanded Kreacher to take the locket to Grimmauld Place the moment it was within Kreacher's grasp. He commanded Kreacher not to return until the locket had been destroyed, but—but—" here, Kreacher's eyes began to well up with tears once more, "—Kreacher failed! Kreacher cannot destroy it!"

"The artifact you hold has been fortified with powerful dark magic," Dumbledore said in a sudden attempt to soothe the house-elf. "It cannot be easily destroyed."

This did nothing to placate Kreacher. He held the locket tightly to his chest and shook his head. "Kreacher must have the locket! Kreacher must keep the locket and do what Master Regulus ordered!"

"You won't," Sirius snapped, having grown tired of the back-and-forth. "Kreacher, I order you to hand over the locket."

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to never hand it over," he responded, eyeing Sirius venomously.

"I'm reversing that."

"The order of a runaway son does not overturn the order of the rightful heir of the House of Black," he sneered.

"What?" Sirius snapped. "If you can still answer my call, then I'm still the current heir. I'm oldest."

"Sirius," Lily cautioned, "I don't think arguing will accomplish much."

"Well, we can hardly wait around for him to throw a tantrum and tire himself out, can we?" Sirius said.

"Why not just do that?" James suggested wearily. "At least we have the locket in our sights now. So long as he doesn't scarper with it, we—"

A hurried series of knocks at the front door drowned out the rest of James's words. Lily whipped towards the long hallway that led to the front door, wand already out.

"Ah, that should be Sturgis with the potions to help awaken Regulus," Dumbledore said with clear relief bleeding through his voice. "We should be able to rectify this situation shortly."

"Let me come with you," James said, accompanying Lily down to the front door.

Grace heard some distant greetings, and then the sound of James's footsteps as he sped back into the sitting room with a sack full of potions. He plopped them down near the sofa Regulus was resting on and immediately began to sift through the flasks and bottles in the bag. Sirius craned his neck over the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of all that Vance's subordinate had brought them.

"Merlin, did Podmore raid St. Mungo's on his way here?" Sirius said.

Podmore himself entered only a moment after, followed by Lily. He was only a few years older than Grace: a tall man with floppy blond hair and a crooked nose. He surveyed the collection of characters in the sitting room with growing incredulity.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" he asked, addressing Dumbledore primarily. "I showed at the Longbottoms' because I thought I was still on shift, but then Alice told me that all the Death Eaters disappeared—and then Vance showed up and started barking orders at everyone—and—and is that house-elf crying?"

"Ignore him," Sirius said, voice crisp.

"What?" Podmore said in disbelief. "Just—what's going on?"

"It's complicated," James sighed, trying to wave Podmore away. He stopped sifting through the potions after finding the one he'd been looking for: a Draught of Peace. "Grace, do you want this?"

"Oi, what're you doing?" Sirius barked, leaving his post over Regulus to join James and loot through the potions himself. "You're supposed to be finding something for Regulus."

"There should be Strengthening Solution," Lily said, joining Sirius. "It's a faint green, probably underneath these…"

"Here," James said, holding out the draught for Grace. "This'll help any lingering aches."

It certainly wouldn't hurt to get rid of the slight headache that had found its home in her temples. With her tea secured tightly in her right hand, she reached out her left to grab the potion. Just as her fingers grasped the neck of the bottle, Podmore let out a shrill cry.

"What the—that's the Dark Mark—!"

Grace froze, hand outstretched, the torn sleeve of her robe showcasing the skull and snake stamped into her wrist. The cut she had made while entering You-Know-Who's cave had long been healed with dittany paste.

"Wait—she's not—" James began in a hurry.

At the same time, Dumbledore said, "Sturgis, this is—"

But Podmore had already whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Grace. He was, as it turned out, more of a 'stun first, ask questions later' sort of person. Before he could immobilize her, however, Kreacher snapped his fingers and sent Podmore flying into the back wall with such force and rigor that he went unconscious on impact. He slumped down to the ground, wand falling uselessly against his side.

Everyone in the room stared at Podmore's limp body, stunned.

"Er—thanks…?" Grace murmured.

Kreacher gave a stiff nod and returned to fussing over Regulus. Sirius went over to look at Podmore's body.

"Is he all right?" Dumbledore sighed.

Sirius nudged at Podmore with his foot. "I think he just got knocked out."

"Let's just…prop him up for now and explain later," James suggested.

Sirius leaned Podmore against the bookshelf, taking care to grab the man's wand and put it in his own pocket for safekeeping.

"Er, well, the good news is that I found the Strengthening Solution," Lily said, holding up a flask of a shimmering, pale green potion.

Grace's heart leapt into her throat. She cast aside her tea and draught without a second thought, leaving both on the coffee table and looking up at Lily as she gently poured a half-dose of the potion into Regulus's open mouth. She craned over Regulus eagerly, frantically, as though ready to wrench his soul right back into his body as soon as she found it. Sirius returned to his position behind the couch, casting a shadow over his brother's face as he watched Lily at work, too.

"He's not waking up…?" Sirius said after it had been a few minutes.

"The Strengthening Solution won't bring him to. It's meant to keep him awake for longer than he usually would be were we to revive him," Lily said smartly. With that, she fished out her wand once more and pointed it at Regulus's heart. "Rennervate."

He awoke with a gasp, springing up from the couch, grey eyes wide and unfocused.

"Reg!" Grace cried out at once.

At the same time, Kreacher rasped out, "Master!"

But Regulus didn't turn to face either of them. It was Sirius who had been hovering overhead, so Regulus first caught sight of his brother as he blinked blearily and adjusted to his surroundings. He stared at his brother, recognition slowly settling in. Once he finally realized exactly who was in front of him, his face crumpled.

"No," he moaned quietly, "no, no… I'm in hell—"

"Wow," Sirius said lowly. "Hello to you, too…"

"Reg," Grace started again, bringing Regulus's dazed grey eyes over to her. "You're at Godric's—"

"Grace," he interrupted, staring at her with light bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

"I—we're at Potter Cottage. In Godric's Hollow."

"That can't be right," he disagreed. "Surely my afterlife is a library of some sort—"

Something wrenched in Grace's heart. Her face hardened, her eyes narrowed.

"You're not dead," she snapped.

Regulus's face fell slack. He swallowed thickly and quickly glanced around the room, taking in Sirius leaning moodily against the back of the sofa, James and Lily huddled together by the armchair, Dumbledore surveying the scene with a grave expression, Podmore slumped by the bookcase, and Kreacher sniffling quietly on the floor.

"Oh," he said softly. His eyes returned to Grace, and they were not as lighthearted as before. Something heavy weighed within him. "…Are you okay?"

"Yes." She studied him closely. "What about you? Lily healed you best she could, but it probably still hurts."

"I'm fine."

"Okay." She studied him closely. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes…" Regulus's fingers curled over the blanket that had been wrapped around him. His gaze wavered over Grace uncertainly. In a much quieter voice, he asked, "Are you angry with me?"

She was acutely aware of four other pairs of eyes on her, as well as the pressing issue of the stolen locket. More than that, she wasn't quite sure how to answer the question. She was certainly angry, but whether or not it was with him was still up for debate, and she didn't quite have the energy to sort through all the facts at the moment.

In a flat voice, she said, "We'll talk about it later."

Gloom clouded his face. He nodded numbly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Regulus," he said, bringing the younger wizard's attention to him, "Grace has explained the nature of the locket you have both taken. I am tempted to delve into why the two of you decided to partake on such a dangerous excursion by yourselves, but I will leave that for another time. We have much to discuss before morning breaks, but first and foremost is this: I will need to take the locket. Rest assured, it will be kept safe."

Faint worry lined Regulus's face. "You're not going to destroy it?"

"It will be destroyed," Dumbledore assured. "But it is not so simple a task. The locket must be kept secure until I have gathered the safest and surest means to destroy it."

Regulus examined him for a moment longer. "You…know what it is, right?"

"Yes, I do."

Regulus gave a stiff nod. He looked over to Kreacher, who was crouched by the foot of the sofa, trying very hard to contain his sobs. Regulus's expression softened. He crept closer to Kreacher and said, "Kreacher, I'm—" He stopped abruptly, seeming to realize that he was not alone in the room. He swallowed down his words, and began again: "Could I have the locket?"

Kreacher handed it to him without a word of protest.

"Thank you," Regulus said.

Dumbledore strode over towards the sofa. Regulus looked up at the old wizard, thumb sweeping over the gold of the locket. After a moment, he held it out to Dumbledore, who swiftly placed it in his pocket.

"We will discuss more about the locket at a later time," Dumbledore said, leveling them with a serious look. "Ideally, I would take my leave now and allow you to rest—but there is no time. Your situation is dire, and it must be rectified swiftly. Out of the two of you, I would wager Grace as the more suspicious. James's words and actions will have made their way to Voldemort, and he will be inclined to think it was you who revealed Peter's position to the Order. As it stands, it is more important to have you enter hiding. Truthfully, even that may not be enough. To alleviate any further suspicion—and retribution—it may be more prudent to fake your death."

Grace blinked a number of times, mind wheeling. Before she could ask how in Merlin's name they could possibly pull that off, Regulus interrupted.

"Wait, what?" he said, frowning at Dumbledore. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Peter escaped," Lily recounted softly. "Since he's been found out and Grace was the newest member of Voldemort's inner circle, suspicion will naturally fall on her."

"But I was there, too," Regulus began.

"You have a longer history with the Death Eaters among Voldemort's fold," Dumbledore said. "And, as it stands, we cannot afford to lose both spies—"

"Wait, you want him to go back?" Grace burst.

Dumbledore looked at her. "Regulus may be questioned about you, but—"

"He'll be tortured about me! If we spin some story about how I gave away crucial information to the Order before I 'died,' Regulus will have to shoulder the consequences. He was supposed to be responsible for me."

"And…You-Know-Who might find out the truth," Regulus added in a hushed voice. "My Occlumency isn't nearly as good as Grace's. The only reason I've been able to survive for so long is because he's never had reason to prod my thoughts. But if I were to go back now…"

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "It is improbable for anyone to believe both of you are dead—"

"No, it's not," Grace cut in. "We were living together—"

James's brows rose comically. "I'm sorry, you were what?"

"James," Lily hissed under her breath. "Not now."

He swallowed his words and retreated into silence, but his gaze shifted from Grace to Regulus, examining the sullen boy curiously.

"Anyway," Grace said with some emphasis, "we were living together in Falmouth. We have a summer home there—er, my family does, that is. You could just say we were ambushed there."

"Ambushed by who?" Sirius said. "The Death Eaters think you're on their side, so they wouldn't come after you. And the Aurors will know they didn't come after you."

"No, it will have to be the Order," Dumbledore said.

"What?" Lily said sharply. "Then the Aurors will come after us; we're not under any sort of official jurisdiction, and this will have been an ambush, not self-defense!"

"Ah, I should be clearer," Dumbledore said apologetically. "Only Voldemort will know it was the Order. The rest will not know."

Stark silence followed. Grace's eyes danced across the room, wondering if anyone else understood what the blinking hell was happening, or was she just exceptionally dull today. Thankfully, she found that James, Sirius, and Lily appeared just as dumbfounded. Beside her, Regulus shifted slightly.

"I see," he said. "They wouldn't believe any story we fed the Aurors or the papers. But if there is an obvious lie, they will know we're hiding something. And they will believe the second lie more easily than the first."

Dumbledore gave Regulus a wan smile. "Yes, something like that. The story the public will put together may be that you two defected and were killed for it, or were ambushed by vigilantes, or anything, really. They will come to their own conclusions, form their own rumors. There will be many, I think, and it will become difficult for anyone to sift through all of them and glean the truth. Amongst this deluge, we must slip our own story, one the Death Eaters are more inclined to believe than the rest."

"That the Order killed them?" James said incredulously. "But that's mad, we'd never—"

"It can only be the Order, because that is the only way we could have found out about Peter," Dumbledore said. "We must work with what we are given. Truthfully, James, it must be you—"

"Me?" he spluttered.

"Or, rather, you must at least be there," Dumbledore amended. "The only angle that may work is for Voldemort to believe Grace had a change of heart just before she died, and told her brother everything—or, as much as she could."

"So—" James swallowed thickly, "—you're saying the story would be that I went to Falmouth on a whim, saw Regulus and Grace, realized they were Death Eaters, dueled them to death, and then forgave Grace as she died. And then went after Peter, of course."

"Honestly, you did look like someone had just died when we went after Peter," Sirius said, gesturing at James's ragged appearance and bloodstained robes.

"It will not be just you," Dumbledore assured. "There must be other Order members, to make this more plausible. The details do not matter at the moment, as Voldemort has no way of finding out what exactly has happened so soon. For now, we must focus on setting the scene. I will have to go to the Longbottoms' to inform Emmeline, and perhaps pick up some help, before we proceed to Falmouth. We will need bodies, too, of course. But this is a trivial matter. Simple transfiguration will suffice."

"The Aurors will check for that," James said.

"Our Aurors will not," Dumbledore disagreed.

Lily frowned. "It'll be too obvious if Moody is a part of the case."

"What about Shacklebolt?" Sirius said. "Vance mentioned he was sympathetic a few meetings ago. I think she was working on recruiting him."

"Shacklebolt…" Dumbledore mulled it over for a moment. "Yes, I suppose that might work. I will have to discuss it with Emmeline."

Lily asked how they could have time to discuss anything at all when the clock kept ticking, and James began to argue that getting Aurors involved so soon might backfire on them, and Sirius said they ought to deal with Peter before going any further—and all Grace could do was watch. She felt dazed and spent and helpless all at once; it seemed she could do nothing more than witness the moment as it plowed forward, the unchangeable future as it demanded to be written. Was this really how it was supposed to go? Fake their deaths? Hide till the danger passed? She couldn't lie to herself: part of it appealed to her. She wanted to do nothing more than take Regulus and simply leave. Something in her screamed for it: Hadn't they done enough? Hadn't they given as much as they could do to the Order? It all went to pot now, yes, but hadn't they gotten You-Know-Who's locket? He could be stopped now. He could be defeated. And in exchange, shouldn't she and Regulus be allowed to disappear like this?

But rather than relief or solace, she felt shame. She had said she would do this. She had said she would spy. She trained for it. She suffered for it. She ought to put up with it, no matter how much it cost her—but it wasn't what she wanted anymore. She wanted peace and quiet. She might have laughed at the thought if the situation weren't so dire. When had Grace Potter ever been content with peace and quiet?

She glanced at Regulus briefly and found that he was more anxious than before. His hands were wrung into each other tightly, eyes frantically flickering over the living room as the reality became more and more clear. They would be dead to the world before morning came.

"Hold on, before we get ahead of ourselves, there's something else," Sirius said, running a hand through his hair. He locked eyes with Regulus. "The family tapestry."

Regulus's lips thinned. "Right…"

"The one your mother blasts names off of?" James asked.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "It also knows when a member of the family has died. It needs to be changed, but it can't be easily tampered with."

"Kreacher can do it," Regulus said, looking to the house-elf. "Couldn't you?"

Kreacher, who had been crouching silently beside Regulus and shooting nearly every member of the room distrustful looks, glanced up at the mention of his name. "Kreacher…" he hesitated for a moment, "…can alter the tapestry."

Dumbledore, James, and Lily appeared relieved by this, but Regulus only seemed more nervous, as though Kreacher was lending credence to all this.

"All right," he said very quietly. "In that case, Kreacher, you should return to Grimmauld and change the tapestry so that it will appear as though I died a few hours ago."

Kreacher's large eyes were already welling up with tears. "B—but Mistress—! She will be all alone—"

"I know, but this is the only way to stay safe. You understand, don't you?"

He did, but he was having a very hard time accepting it. Kreacher bobbed his head jerkily for a moment and then asked, "Where will Master Regulus stay?"

Regulus's gaze wavered to Dumbledore, but before the old wizard could say anything at all, James jumped in and said, "Here, of course."

Grace looked up at him, taken aback by the sudden show of generosity.

"There's nowhere safer than here," James continued. He paused, and then added, in a much lower voice, "Well… There is the Longbottoms' manor."

"There's also my flat," Sirius said.

"Right…"

"I was going to suggest one of our safe houses," Lily added.

"The McKinnons have put up the Fidelius," Dumbledore suggested.

"Okay, so turns out there are a lot of safe places, but it'd be best to keep you both in the same place, right?" James said hastily, addressing both Grace and Regulus.

"Yeah," Grace agreed before anyone could say anything against it. She didn't care where Regulus was sent, so long as they were sent together.

"All right," Regulus said, looking back to Kreacher. "I'll be right here. If you get the spare moment and you're certain no one will suspect if you're gone, you can come here to tell me anything. Okay?"

Kreacher nodded solemnly.

"And you mustn't tell anyone of what happened tonight, no matter what."

"You should order him," Sirius said, "so he'll be bound by magic instead of just his word."

"His word is all I need," Regulus replied, eyes growing cold as soon as they turned to his brother. "I trust him."

Kreacher's sniffling lessened slightly upon hearing those words. He nodded at Regulus and said, "Kreacher will return and change the tapestry. Kreacher will not say a word."

Regulus's lips parted, then closed. After a soft sight, he said, "Thank you. You should go home and rest now."

With one last, loud sob, Kreacher Apparated. Silence swept the room once more. The tea Grace had left behind on the coffee table had long grown cold. She eyed it forlornly. She had never felt less hungry in her life. It was as though someone had removed her stomach from her body entirely. She couldn't recall a moment when she had ever felt like this: nonreactive, like she was nothing more than a pebble on the side of a road.

She should be doing something, right? She should be chugging down that tea because she needed the caffeine. She should be storming outside to hunt down Peter Pettigrew herself, so her position wouldn't be compromised. And yet… Why did it feel like she wouldn't even be able to stand up right now? She didn't know precisely what it was—the shock of having almost lost Regulus tonight, the fatigue from navigating the cave the locket resided in, the shame of having to hide rather than fight, the guilt whenever James or Lily approached her—but she felt tired. And it wasn't a tiredness she had ever experienced before, not like when she was sleepy after a long day, or when her legs ached from sprinting up and down stairwells. This exhaustion permeated her entire being. She was tired of the war and her role in it. It was a weariness months in the making; it had begun when Regulus was tortured for her mistake, but she pushed through it, because she made a promise and she knew nothing would change unless she incited the change herself. And she had changed so much, whether it was for better or worse, and she was so tired. Anyone else would think rest was well-deserved, so why did she feel so conflicted? Why did she feel so wrong?

"If there is nothing else," Dumbledore said, preparing to rise, "then I shall—"

"Wait," Regulus interrupted. "I… I didn't want to say it before, because I was afraid it might frighten Kreacher, but… I'm worried he might be in danger."

Mild shock passed over Dumbledore. "Why is that?"

"The only reason I know of the cave is because Voldemort took Kreacher there. He needed someone to test his safety measures and asked if he could borrow a house-elf from me. Once he was sure his locket was secure, he left Kreacher to die in the lake. But, of course, Kreacher is clearly not dead. If Voldemort were to see Kreacher again, he'd know someone who knows the secret of his cave survived—and likely passed on the information to me."

"I see… I must admit, I find it hard to believe that Voldemort would care to follow-up on a house-elf. He may very well have forgotten about Kreacher entirely the moment he left the cave."

"Also," Lily added, "if you're no longer there, he has no way of getting in contact with Kreacher, right?"

"Not directly, but… He could always ask Bellatrix."

"It would seem unlikely that he would bring attention to this matter," Dumbledore said. "This cave, and what was hidden inside, was a secret meant to die with Kreacher. He would not readily share it with anyone."

"He might with Bellatrix," Regulus said.

"In that case… A simple change in appearance should suffice for Kreacher," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Should the unlikely happen and Bellatrix is asked to fetch him, he will have to disguise himself and appear as another house-elf entirely. This may require your mother's cooperation."

Sirius snorted. "She wouldn't cooperate with anything."

"If…" Regulus hesitated a moment, "…if it means upholding the Black family's name, if it means ensuring the bloodline doesn't end, I think she would help."

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "But this will have to be a last resort, should we suspect Voldemort does not believe you or Grace are dead. For the time being, no one outside of the Order will know the truth."

"All right," Regulus agreed. "And, er, one other question?"

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.

Regulus glanced at Podmore's limp body. "Who is that man, and is he dead?"

"Oh, shit, I almost forgot about him," Sirius said.

"He's nobody," James shrugged off.

"Okay…?" Regulus said with growing confusion.

Lily looked to Dumbledore. "Actually, wouldn't it be best if we say we were setting up Podmore at the Potter's summer home in Falmouth? He's been getting targeted recently, so it would make sense if he went into hiding."

"Oh, yes, that's right," Dumbledore nodded. "It works quite well. He's here already, and can help set up the location for Shacklebolt's inevitable visit—once he awakens, that is."

"So, just to be clear," James began, "the story the Prophet and the Aurors will get is that Grace and Regulus were simply found dead at Falmouth. They'll come up with their own reasoning for that, whether it be that Death Eaters killed them for defecting or they got into a duel with someone after being revealed to be Death Eaters or whatever. But then the real story would be that Lily and I—and whoever else is at the Longbottoms' right now—were bringing Podmore to our summer home in Falmouth, where we stumbled upon Grace and Regulus. We found out they were Death Eaters, a duel ensued, and they were both mortally injured. Grace came clean just before she died and told me everything."

"It sounds a bit like a soap opera," Sirius admitted.

"It will work better if we are less specific," Dumbledore said. "I do not think Voldemort will ever uncover the entire story, or any of the details we discuss. The rumors will spread, and the crucial point to be gleaned is that there was a clash in Falmouth that was covered up by the Order."

"But how exactly will that be found out?" Lily asked. "The rumors will spur on their own, as you said, but how can we manage to add our own rumor that it was the Order? It can't be from the Order itself, of course, because it won't be believed."

"The trick is to make it seem as though they were not fed the story, but rather they chose the story out of all the ones offered. But…" Dumbledore sighed. "That, Lily, is the major impediment to this plan. We have no way of funneling misinformation to Voldemort now that we are bereft of spies. I am considering an insider tip to the Prophet from a Falmouth local—who will, naturally, be one of our own in disguise. But this may not be trusted, either…"

"We don't have the time to think on that right now," Sirius said. "Peter will have definitely made it to Voldemort by now, and they'll be searching for Grace and Regulus. The sooner we set up Falmouth for the Aurors—"

"It mustn't be found out too soon," Dumbledore warned. "We'll wait until Shacklebolt is on duty—"

"You mean wait until noon?" James said.

"The Auror Office can only be notified if someone finds something amiss. It is only reasonable that a local finds something amiss during the day. But we must prepare the summer home—and ourselves—now." Dumbledore's piercing gaze returned to Grace and Regulus. "You two must stay here. Sirius is right: if Peter has returned, Voldemort will no doubt be searching for you."

Grace's hand ghosted over her Dark Mark. The cut she had made across it had long healed, but she wished it were still there, if only to mar the stark image of the skull and snake. "If…he calls for us, will he know that we're there?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "The Dark Mark is a variant of the Protean Charm. Its purpose is to connect subordinates to their leader, not the other way around. You will remain safe so long as you do not leave the cottage."

Grace nodded.

"Should we go with you to Falmouth?" Lily asked, already reaching for a cloak hung on the coat rack.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Prepare yourselves and meet me at the Longbottoms'. I will inform Emmeline of the circumstances as they stand and our plan. She will help coordinate everything and hand out your assignments once you arrive—" his bright blue eyes wavered over James and Sirius, "—though I suspect she may have you focus on Peter rather than upending Falmouth."

Sirius grimaced. James sighed. Grace felt something brush against the back of her hand, and when she turned to her left, she found Regulus looking at her.

"Did you get healed, too?" he asked quietly, now that the attention was off of them.

"Yeah," she murmured.

He struggled to say something else, but before he could open his mouth again, Lily came over to collect the bag of stray potions at the foot of the couch. Regulus clammed up and averted his eyes. Grace's weary gaze returned to the scene playing in front of her: Dumbledore had long risen and was now approaching Podmore's unconscious body.

"Rennervate," Dumbledore said.

With a wash of blue light, Podmore came to. He stared up at Dumbledore, mouth agape, and quickly scrambled up from the floor.

"Sir!" he cried out, gaze flying over the sitting room. "There was a Death—"

"She is our spy, Sturgis."

"Our what? We have a spy?"

"Yes." Dumbledore began to move forward, striding out of the room and towards the front door. "I will explain on the way. You must accompany me to the Longbottoms', and then to Falmouth."

Dumbledore left the sitting room entirely, no doubt in a hurry to put things in order. Sirius handed Podmore his wand, which he took, albeit with some irritation. Podmore threw Grace one last, dubious look before following Dumbledore out of the cottage.

"Falmouth?" he asked. "Why?"

"You will be perpetrating a double homicide."

"Excuse me—"

The door closed behind them. Grace's gaze retreated from the open archway of the sitting room, returning to the four other occupants in the room. For a brief moment, no one said anything, simply stared at each other.

"Well," Lily said at last, clasping her hands together lightly, "I suppose we should reinforce the wards and then head over to the manor…"

"Right," James nodded. "I'll set up the guest room, and—" his gaze flitted to Sirius, "—do you want to spend the night here, too? Or, er, whatever's left of the night?"

"No," Sirius said, "I think I'll probably end up spending the night searching for Peter."

James nodded in understanding. His attention returned to Grace and Regulus. "Grace, your room is like you left it. Regulus, I'll show you to the guest room—and, er, do you want anything to eat?"

"No," he said.

Grace side-eyed him. "You should eat something."

He folded quickly. "Er, well, something light then…"

"All right," James said. He looked to Lily. "Do we still have some of that soup Bathilda gave, or—"

"By the way," Regulus interrupted, "where's my wand?"

An uncomfortable silence settled. Guilt roiled within Grace. She tried to find a way to lessen the impact of the loss that was headed Regulus's way, but there were no words she could say that would deny the truth of the matter: his wand was gone. Before she could gather the courage and tell Regulus what had happened, James stepped forward the deliver the news himself. She couldn't be certain why he'd decided to say it; perhaps he remembered how upset Grace had been when Sirius and Lily first announced that Regulus's wand was not with him and wanted to avoid any more emotional upheavals.

"We couldn't find it," James said with a touch of sympathy. "It wasn't on you or Grace. It probably fell somewhere in the lake when you…"

James trailed off. Regulus stared at him for a long moment, slowly digesting the news. That last shred of diligence that had kept him upright crumpled.

"I see," Regulus said very faintly.

---

After a small helping of tomato soup, Regulus was guided to a guest bedroom with a spare set of robes. Since all of Grace's things were still at Falmouth and Lily's selection of robes was rather scarce, she was given a set of Muggle pajamas with sheep embroidered on the cuffs of the sleeves and trousers. After a brief bath and a moment to settle into her unusual sleepwear, she padded towards the bedroom Regulus had been given.

It was one of the most spacious rooms in the cottage and had previously been used as something of a storage space for old Sleekeazy papers and products. But, naturally, she assumed that had all be cleared out by now—until she opened the door to find Regulus and saw that he was almost completely barricaded in by storage bins.

"What the—" she muttered, navigating around the bins to the bed, where Regulus lying. "Why is this all still here?"

When he caught sight of her, he immediately began to scramble up. "Oh—" he began, watching her eye boxes, "—your brother mentioned something about cover during an ambush…"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I suppose that makes sense…to him."

She approached his bedside, examining the thick quilt laid over him and the pillows propped up behind his back, before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Er—are you comfortable?" she asked. "Do you want more pillows?"

"I'm fine," he murmured.

"Okay…"

They stayed silent for a moment. Grace fiddled with the sleeves of her pajamas. She could not bear to look at Regulus because she knew precisely what sort of face he was making now: something soft and pitiful, eyes wide and shimmering, brows drawn together. She knew she would give in the moment she looked at him, and she didn't want to do that. It wasn't that she was angry with him, really, but she wasn't happy either.

"I'm sorry," she sighed after a while, "about your wand."

He jumped. She could feel the shift of the blanket. "What? No—that's not your fault. I shouldn't have… Grace, I'm sorry."

Maybe that should have been enough, but it wasn't. She didn't know what she was looking for, but an apology wasn't it. She didn't feel like she quite deserved an apology. She had felt betrayed, certainly, when Regulus told Kreacher to take her away—but she couldn't feel wronged, because she would have done the same thing. In fact, hadn't she already done the same thing? Hadn't she already behaved so recklessly and rashly? Hadn't she pressed Regulus into agreeing to her plans? Hadn't she thrown herself into the serpent's pit, lied on impulse, completed and discarded steps of her plan all on a moment's whim? And Regulus had argued against it sometimes, but he always gave in. He followed her wherever she went, whatever she did, because he loved her. And she would do the same—had done the same when she went to the cave with him despite everything in her telling her not to.

"I know," she said quietly. "It's just… When you told Kreacher to take me away, it felt like I was an obstacle for you—but how could that be? I'm only ever on your side. And, maybe you disagree, but if we'd just thought it out for a bit longer—and I know how that sounds coming from me—but, really, if we'd just sat on it, I think we could have figured out how to get the locket without drinking the potion."

She felt odd, suddenly, to be the one lecturing Regulus. Wasn't this situation usually reversed?

"Maybe," he granted after a brief spat of silence. "But I couldn't manage to stay still…"

She knew a thing or two about what that felt like. Sympathy filled her—and guilt. She turned to him, saw how pale and troubled he appeared, and found her resolve softening in spite of herself.

"I am sorry," he said, catching her eyes. "I shouldn't have sent you away, but I panicked. I thought you really might drink it, and I couldn't bear it if you did. And… I'll probably realize it in full later, but I know I shouldn't have hurried us to the cave to begin with… I know—I knew it—but I still couldn't… I was angry because of what had happened to Kreacher, and I felt as though I had to prove him wrong and… I don't quite know what I was thinking…"

She didn't quite know what to say to that. She was tired. Her limbs ached tremendously. Her head felt heavy on her neck. She gave Regulus a jerky nod and turned, about to heft herself off the bed and leave him to rest, when his hand bolted forward and grasped onto hers.

"I trust you," he said desperately.

It wasn't what she expected to hear. She looked back at him, mildly confused. "Er—I trust you, too…?"

"No, I mean—" he seemed frustrated with himself, "—I mean I trust you. I do, so I know you wouldn't ever lie to me—but, sometimes, it's hard to believe you—"

"What?" she started, alarmed.

"—when you say I'm brave and it's enough for me to just be myself. It's hard because something is just…" His voice was thick, strangled. "I don't know why I have such a hard time believing it. Something just makes me feel like it's not true—instinct—or—or… I don't know. Maybe it's because Mother and Father have always thought I'm soft, and, honestly, if you compare me to them—to the entire family, really—it does seem like I'm soft. Sirius swears he's not a Black, but he is. He's more than I'll ever be: he's strong-willed and loud and brave… And I've never been—no, I mean—" he looked at her again, grey into gold, eyes shining with unshed tears, "—you say that I am, though. You've said it so many times, Grace. You've been saying it since fifth year: that I am brave, that I'm determined, that I'm more than enough… And I know you're tired of saying it. And it's—it's just strange I can't bring myself to believe it when you're the person I trust most, but I should. I should believe it. Because it's you, but more than that…because it's me, and—oh, Grace—"

She hugged him, buried herself in him. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She couldn't say when she'd started crying, or if it was even Regulus's small speech that had prompted the tears to fall. It might have just been the stress of the day finally leaking out of her.

"You idiot—" she wept.

"Yeah," he agreed. His voice was staggered, too. When Grace managed to find some space between them and looked up, she found that he was crying, too. "I am an idiot."

"I'm an idiot, too," she said tearfully. There was a thick knot in her chest where her heart ought to be. "I'm an idiot for making you worry so much, for being so reckless and impulsive sometimes—"

"But that's who you are, Grace, and I love who you are."

She swallowed down the rest of her words and just held him tighter. He returned the embrace just as tightly.

---

Grace only returned downstairs when it was clear Regulus was growing tired. Though his surface wounds had healed, he had not yet fully recovered from the effects of the potion and the Strengthening Solution only lasted for so long. He was in need of undisturbed rest, so Grace left him to recuperate quietly, making her way back down to the sitting room.

Sirius was no longer there, having likely sped out the door to track down Peter the moment it was clear he was no longer needed at the cottage. Lily was sorting through the sack of potions Podmore has left behind, now and again taking out a few flasks to place atop the coffee table. James's attention drew to Grace the moment she appeared in the open arc of the doorway. He hurried to her with a bolt of crimson-colored fabric in his hands.

"Here," he said, pressing the invisibility cloak into her hands."Lily and I just finished reinforcing the wards, but in case anything happens and Death Eaters come knocking, use this to get out with Regulus. We'll be in Falmouth for the better part of the next few hours, so you can meet us there, okay?"

Her fingers curled into the soft fabric. There had been a time when she was jealous he had been given the family heirloom rather than her, but she could find none of that old envy now. She tugged the cloak close to herself and said, "Okay."

"These are pain-relieving potions," Lily said, addressing Grace from a cross-legged position on the carpet. She had separated a few pale yellow potions from the rest on the table. "If you or Regulus feel unwell, take half a dose each. There's food in the fridge if you feel peckish while we're out."

"The fridge is the big, white box," James added.

Grace doubted she would ever eat again but nodded anyway. "All right…"

Lily rose and dusted off the front of her trousers. She glanced at James and asked, "Should we head out now?"

His eyes were still stuck on Grace. "Er, yeah, I suppose…"

No one moved from the sitting room. Grace looked up at her brother, fingers tangling into the silky material of the invisibility cloak. He stared back, almost expectantly, but Grace found herself struggling to find something to say. Now that the adrenaline of her journey had worn off, now that events of the night had calmed somewhat, she found she couldn't think of anything to say to James. Beyond Regulus's near-death experience and Peter's betrayal, what was there?

She wondered, almost belatedly, if he was waiting for some sort of apology, but she didn't know where to begin or what to say. Her tongue felt leaden and clumsy. When had it ever been this hard to talk to James?

Lily's eyes danced between the pair of siblings. After a brief minute of awkward silence, she cleared her throat and said, "Well, then, we'll be heading out now. Like James mentioned, we'll be at Falmouth after we meet up with Dumbledore. If I've understood his idea properly, we'll be wrecking the place a bit. I doubt Dumbledore will want us to bring anything back to you as it'll make for a more convincing story if everything of yours is left behind—but if we have the chance to sneak anything out, we will."

"Oh," Grace said, momentarily stupefied. She hadn't quite registered that the summer home would be vandalized. Perhaps she ought to have been more upset by the realization, but this seemed almost negligible compared to everything that had happened in the past day. "Er, right…"

"Is there anything important we should bring back?" Lily pressed softly.

Grace couldn't think of anything immediately. She wondered if there was anything of worth that actually belonged to her. She didn't quite need her textbooks or her stash of pumpkin pasties or her spare deck of Exploding Snap, so her thoughts naturally turned to Regulus. She was certain he would have liked to have all his belongings returned to him, but it simply wasn't feasible. It would be suspicious if Aurors found only a smattering of Regulus's things among an abundance of Grace's. Only the most precious items could be brought back.

"There are five books in Regulus's trunk; they'll be set apart from the rest in a velvet bag. And there's also his journal with notes about Death Eaters and the Order. It's charmed to be unreadable, but the cover is dark brown moleskin and his initials are inked on the inner flap." She tried to think about what else he might want, but she couldn't focus on much of anything for more than a minute or two. What else was in the house? There was his favorite quill and his dress robes and his broomstick maintenance kit and— "The cat!"

"The cat?" Lily said.

Grace rubbed her forehead with her hand wearily. "Yes, Cliodna. Half-kneazle, black fur, probably sleeping by the fireplace—although it's likely gone out by now. You have to bring her back. Merlin, I can't believe I forgot about her."

"Don't worry," James assured. "We'll get her—and the books, too. But is there anything of yours you want back?"

It was a difficult question to answer. Grace wanted everything and nothing back. She wanted her starry blanket and her mum's pillow and her half-attempted essays that Regulus had inked over with his own corrections. She wanted without scrutiny—generously, tenderly—simply because she was greedy, because she was sentimental.

But the dead did not want.

"I don't know," she said wearily. "Won't it all come back to you in the end?"

If this whole ruse ended up working, she'd be declared dead by the Ministry soon enough. Once that happened, James would inherit all her belongings, wouldn't he?

"Yeah…" he conceded, "but I can't guarantee any of it'll be in the same state you left it."

"That's okay," she said. She could repair what was broken. And if anything was beyond fixing, then it was simply time to let it go. She had let go of a lot these past few months; what did it matter if she discarded just a few more things? "I don't need anything back."

After a few more parting words—and cautionary advice—James and Lily left, trudging through the front yard of the cottage, making their way to the town square of Godric's Hollow, where it was safe to Apparate. Grace hugged the invisibility cloak to her chest and wandered around the sitting room for a moment or two. Now that it was still and silent, she noticed what she hadn't before: small changes to the cottage. There was a lamp with a cord plugged into an outlet, the white of the hulking refrigerator peeking through the open archway of the kitchen. When exactly had all this happened? She had never known when she would be returning to the cottage, but she had always been looking forward to that day. The day James would finally listen. The day she would leap into her bed and fall into the familiarity of home. But the place she was looking at now was not entirely familiar.

She didn't want to rest like James had suggested. It felt cowardly, somehow, to allow herself to give in to that want. So, instead, she stretched out on the sofa Regulus had been lying on just moments prior and began to keep watch. If Peter had alerted You-Know-Who and Death Eaters were scrambling for Potter Cottage, she would know the instant they arrived.

She started out quite vigilantly: one hand fisted into the invisibility cloak, the other gripping her wand tightly. But as the hour waned on, her body began to relax involuntarily. She resisted for as long as she could, because she did not want to sleep, because she was afraid of being vulnerable, because she could not find it in herself to actually be still. Her limbs ached. Fatigue clung to her eyelids. But her mind buzzed. Half-formed thoughts and memories ricocheted in her head: the narrow escape from the cave, the state the summer home would be in by daybreak, the stilted, out-of-place feeling that had filled her after she had been brought back to consciousness in the cottage. Her head spun. Her thoughts drifted on and on, until they were less thoughts and more lingerings. Soon, the exhaustion won out, and she fell asleep despite herself.

Her dreams were half-memory, half-fear, hazy recollections of the cave and the potion, the grim shadows of Inferi as they lurked in the depths of the lake. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning, now and again dancing at the edge of wakefulness, frightened by what awaited her in sleep but too tired to force herself to stay awake.

She did not have to remain in this strange, uneasy limbo for very long. She had only gotten a few hours of intermittent rest when a loud, flat beep woke her. They were like notes in a song, trilling on and on, but weren't melodic in the slightest. Grace jumped awake, launching herself off the sofa, crashing onto the floor with the invisibility cloak wrapped around her like a makeshift blanket.

It took her a few seconds to realize this wasn't some sort of secret Death Eater tactic. It was a telephone. Grace found it after lighting her wand and catching sight of the sleek, cream-colored handset on the table beside the sofa. She frowned at the sight of it—and the continuous ringing sound that it emitted. She was not completely clueless when it came to Muggle things. Lily had told her of all sorts of contraptions, even before she and James had gotten together, and Grace knew that what she was looking at right now was a machine that allowed Muggles to speak to one another across long distances (a sort of two-way mirror but without the visual element).

With a faint flare of curiosity—her old self peeking through, a wisp of mischief seeding itself in her—she reached a hand out and picked up the receiver.

"Finally!" the voice on the other end cried out. "Am I that irritating, Lily? I've been trying to get a hold of you for weeks now! Look, I'll make it quick—I've got to get out of here. I know that it was difficult to set this all up, and, honestly, my parents don't mind staying with Anita and her family, so they can just stay—but I have to get out of here. I'm going insane. I couldn't even pack all my books in time, so I've been reading utter garbage and—"

Grace removed the receiver from her ear and stared down at the bulky handle. She could still hear the voice coming out from the top of the receiver, through the small holes that had been pricked into the plastic, although it was very faint now.

She held the top of the receiver close to her mouth and said, "Dirk?"

She was too stunned and sleepy to properly process the fact that she had finally come in contact with her friend who'd suddenly disappeared over holiday. She half-felt as though she were still in a dream, and brought the phone back up to her ear to hear the response.

"—you mean 'Dirk'? Of course—hold on, did you just wake up? Ah, wait, it's seven here, and you're an hour behind, right, so—"

She brought the top of the receiver away from her ear and to her mouth again, holding it in a fashion similar to how she held the enchanted microphone in the commentator's booth during one of the Hogwarts Quidditch matches.

"Dirk, it's me—Grace. Are you looking for Lily? She's gone out for a bit. I dunno when she'll be back…" Cognizance was slowly slipping into her. The weariness of the night, the bone-deep exhaustion that had been sinking through her persistently just a few hours ago, was fading away. It was replaced by a warm, earnest feeling. She'd missed Dirk. She'd been searching for him, up until Regulus confirmed that he'd gone into hiding. And even then, it hadn't quite felt real; it had felt lonely, empty, a vacuum of crushing solemnity, without his humor and nonchalance there to lighten the mood. She gripped the receiver tightly. "Merlin, Dirk, it's been ages. You could have left me a note, you know. You've no idea how much grief you caused me! I had to find out what happened to you from Dumbledore. And, Merlin, he said you'd gone into hiding, but I didn't think it'd be so far away. You're with Anita, then? In Spain? Is it—hold on, I think you're speaking—I've got to bring the top end back up to my ear. Just wait a moment."

She pressed the receiver back up to her ear.

"—even breathe between sentences? Okay, good, I think you stopped talking." A massive sigh left Dirk's lips. "Yeah, I'm in Spain. And it was all right in the beginning, but now it's such a pain because Anita won't let me do anything I want to do, and I forgot some of my Gobbledegook books back home—and, actually, I took out a book from the library and I think it's way overdue now, so that's just another problem… I should've realized you'd be back at yours for holiday. I do need to talk to Lily, but if she's out it can't be helped. Also—" she could almost see him rolling his eyes, "—you don't need to move the receiver between your mouth and your ear. You can just hold it. The top end should fit by your ear, and the bottom end is where you speak into it."

Grace adjusted the receiver, and then spoke hesitantly into it. "Like this? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah."

Silence followed. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't quite comfortable either. Grace simply didn't know where to start, how to begin—or if she even should. She felt silly, all of a sudden, to think she had been looking forward to talking with Dirk for so long only to have no idea what to say to him now. She would have liked to tell him about the Order, because, truthfully, that was the only thing she could think to say. The Order had consumed every facet of her life. For the past few months, nothing existed but the Order and all she had done to enter it. But how much did Dirk really know about the Order? Dumbledore had said he tried to recruit Dirk to it, but how much did he actually say? Would it burden Dirk, to know about all Grace had gone through? She wanted to talk about it very badly, but she felt stuck, unsure and uncertain. She wondered, half-weary and half-cynical, where all this restraint had suddenly come from.

"So…" Dirk drawled, "has Lily told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"Never mind, I suppose you don't know."

"Don't know what?" She scowled emptily into the receiver. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you," he said in almost the same tone he'd once told her he couldn't say anything about the Smugglers' Society. "It's protocol."

"You're doing this on purpose," she said accusingly. "You're going to tell me anyway, so just tell me."

He let out a very dramatic, forlorn sigh. "It's just so unfortunate, Grace, because I definitely can't tell you, so…"

"How do I turn off the telephone?" she bit. "How do I—"

"Okay, fine, fine!" he relented. "It's just about how Lily's using the Society's contacts to create safe houses for Muggle-borns."

"Oh," Grace said. "So, she put you in Spain with Anita?"

"Yeah, with like a dozen other families—okay, not a dozen, but it's still a lot—and I've been trying to get in touch with Lily to be relocated to somewhere closer home. Part of it is that I just miss being somewhere familiar, but it's also just…frustrating. I hardly get any news about what's going on with the Death Eaters and stuff. It's so maddening!"

Grace grimaced with sympathy. "I can give you a quick recap. They're trying to mess around with the Aurors and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement right now, but everything's kind of at an impasse. Right now, they're all laying low."

"Not much has changed then, huh?"

"No." She thought back to the Horcrux, now in Dumbledore's hands and soon to be destroyed. "But it might soon. For the better."

"How do you mean?" Dirk had perked up that. "Is something happening?"

"Er—just a hunch."

"You don't have hunches," he dismissed. "What happened? Did Lily say something? Was it her Order?"

"Er…"

"I told you about her setting up safe houses," he whined. "You have to tell me about this."

"Okay, okay, stop crying—"

"I don't cry," he sniffled.

"How much do you about the—" her voice lowered considerably, "—Order?"

"What are you whispering for? It's not like Voldeprat's tapped the line." He snorted suddenly. "S'not like he even knows what a telephone is."

"Why would he touch a line?" Grace asked.

Dirk sighed. "Forget that. I know that Dumbledore made a group called the Order of the Phoenix. He asked if I'd like to join when I made Head Boy, and it did sound pretty wicked, but—let's be honest—my only skills are reading dense books and writing absurd poetry."

"You have other skills," Grace said. "You whine really well."

"Thanks," he deadpanned. "Anyway, I said I'd think about it. Then, during holiday a Dark Mark appeared near Tutshill, and my parents thought it might be best if we booked it. I got in touch with Anita, who put me in touch with Lily, who put me back in touch with Anita by just dropping me in Spain, aaaaand now I'm talking to you while hiding behind a set of drapes."

"Why are you behind drapes?"

"We're not supposed to use the phone very often in case we get calls from the Society or the Order, so I'm hiding preemptively in case Anita comes by. This way she won't see me talking on the phone. She'll just see some billowing drapes."

Grace briefly heard the rustle of fabric as Dirk presumably tried to billow the drapes to hide the fact there was a person hiding behind them.

"She'll still hear you, though?"

"I'll be quiet if she comes, don't worry," he assured. "Anyway, Lily mentioned she was doing all this as part of the Order. I know the Order does much more—probably facing Death Eaters head-on—from what Dumbledore implied, but no one's told me much more than that."

"You're basically right. They do face Death Eaters head-on."

"Nice," he said approvingly. "What are they doing that's going to change things for the better?"

"Oh, that's… That's sort of difficult to explain."

"Grace, don't do this to me," he pleaded. "You have to tell me—"

"No, really, it's difficult," she insisted. "I stole something—"

"Good, playing to your strengths—"

"—from You-Know-Who—"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"—which'll probably be a big setback for him—"

"Wait, hold on! Hold on, hold on, hold on," he said all in one breath. "You stole something from Voldeprat?"

"Yeah… I'm kind of part of the Order now, so—"

"Oh, my God, Grace…"

There was genuine alarm and concern in his voice. Grace didn't quite know how to respond, and neither did Dirk, it seemed. They both stayed quiet for a moment, Grace trying to understand what it was Dirk was thinking, Dirk mulling over what Grace had just revealed.

Finally, Dirk said, "So, basically, you became cool after I left?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Dirk, make fun of me after I spent months risking my life to spy—"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said immediately. "I mean—how would you respond, though? If suddenly your best friend said she stole something from the most dangerous lunatic in England? No, not even just England! Maybe the entire world! God… Why did you do that? Why didn't you just go to Spain, Grace? Anita's got plenty of room!"

Another bout of silence followed. A great swell of emotions were mixing within Grace. Of course, she couldn't have just left the country back then, not when Regulus had been where he was. But it had been more than that, hadn't it? She'd wanted to do something. She'd wanted to have a plan; she didn't want to sit still and let things be; she wanted to help, and know that that help was valuable. But now her time had come to an end; she couldn't provide the Order with any more information, nor did she particularly want to. Part of her did want to go to Spain and let the biggest worry of her life be Anita's nagging.

"I dunno," she said at last.

A few seconds elapsed, and then Dirk said, "Rash decision?"

"A little bit of it, yeah."

"Checks out."

"Yeah."

"And you were spying, you said?"

"Yeah, a little."

He sighed heavily. "Now I really feel like I missed out. God, I could have helped you so much, Grace. Do you have any idea how many spy novels I've read? This makes me want to come back even more. You probably know everything that's going on."

"Aren't there newspapers in Spain?"

"Yeah, but the Spanish Ministry of Magic isn't too keen on spreading news about what's happening in England, probably because they're afraid it'll create some panic. Not to mention, we're not really situated near any wizarding settlements. We're supposed to be living as Muggles, which is easy enough for my parents. But it's so much more difficult for me than I thought it would be. Seven years of magic really changes you. I've managed to slip away from Anita's attention now and again to nick some wizard articles, but, like I said, they're not exactly chockfull of information. Lila's enchanted parchment makes things slightly better, but she only ever asks about things her girlfriend actually cares about. She doesn't—"

"Enchanted parchment?" Grace cut in quickly. "Wait, do you mean Lila Colvin?"

"Yeah, she's the one you sent that parchment to in the first place. She used to tell me about how you were doing, since her girlfriend would mention you sometimes, but then she stopped doing that—"

"Wait, you're with Lila Colvin?" Grace repeated dumbly. Something very crucial was forming in her mind, but she couldn't quite get a hold of it yet. Was she being too rash again? Would this really be possible?

"Yes, my God, how many times do I need to confirm this?"

"And Colvin knows?" Grace pressed. "She knows about the Order and that we're fighting You-Know-Who and—"

"She doesn't know about it exactly," Dirk interrupted. "Neither do I, really. We just know that the Order is something Dumbledore made to help protect us, and Lily is a part of it."

"But you know it's there, and you're on our side. Both of you."

"Of course."

Grace's hands trembled as she cradled the receiver closer to her head. "Then, that's it. You're our in—not you, but Colvin. If she can tell Ophelia some story about how Regulus and I died, if she can give instructions about how to spread—"

"What—" the word came out more as a yelp than anything, "—in God's good name are you talking about?"

"Something happened," Grace said hurriedly, unwilling to think on the events that had only just transpired for any longer than strictly necessary. "My position was compromised. Regulus's, too—oh, he's in the Order, too. Anyway, Dumbledore thinks we should fake our deaths, but it looks too suspicious if it's so sudden. Suspicious to You-Know-Who that is. We want to trick them. We want to lie to them through the Prophet and the Aurors—because they won't believe it anyway—and we want them to think they've uncovered the truth by digging around, but really they'll just be finding what we want them to find."

"I don't quite understand," Dirk admitted, sounding far more pained than Grace felt he should. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. We just want to spread a rumor. Don't worry about the rest. The papers will say one thing about how we died, but the rumors will say another—one that the Death Eaters will think is the truth, because it'll involve Order business that would have been covered up otherwise. The issue was that we didn't know who could spread the rumors, or even how, since we have no more spies now that Regulus and I are out of commission. But you've just said Colvin is with you. And Colvin has her spellbound sheet! She can talk to Ophelia, who's still at Hogwarts—"

"—and there's no better place to start a rumor than at Hogwarts," Dirk completed.

"Yes!" Grace said. "You have to call back tomorrow, Dirk, when Lily and the others are here. And when you call, make sure Colvin is there."

"All right," he said. "I'll do that, but I dunno if Lila would agree. She never wants to ask her girlfriend anything that might upset or worry her. I asked her to ask her girlfriend about how Abbott's doing, but she said it might be upsetting. Why that would upset her is beyond me…"

"Oh, Abbott's fine," Grace said. "I talked to her once about you, actually."

"Really?" Dirk's voice shifted dramatically. Gone was the lazy drawl, replaced by a frenzied eagerness. "What'd she say?"

Grace's free hand traced along the spiraling cord that hung out of the end of the receiver. She leaned into the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. "She'd been a bit worried about you, but sort of figured you'd gone into hiding with your family. Can't really remember what else we talked about. It was a while ago…"

"Don't do this to me," he begged. "I'm so starved for information, Grace. And this is about Abbott! You can't keep this from me. You can't. You've already given me about three consecutive heart attacks through the course of this conversation. You—"

"Okay, okay, fine. Honestly, it was a while ago. She mentioned a lot about how you'd been having a hard time coping at Hogwarts and the Death Eater attacks were worrying your parents… She seemed to really care about you."

She was about to add a quip about how she couldn't relate, just because this was getting too sad, but then Dirk immediately said, "Of course. I'm very charismatic. A lot of people care about me."

"I see your seclusion has done wonders for your sense of humility," Grace muttered.

"I see your new responsibilities haven't lessened your rudeness in the slightest."

She snorted. Dirk chuckled on the other end. A peaceable moment of silence hovered between them.

"I missed you," Grace said at last.

"Impossibly, wildly, against all better judgment—I missed you, too."

"You just have to turn even the heartfelt moments into quips, huh?"

"Of course. If I didn't, you'd probably be bawling your eyes out at how sad this is."

"Oh, please—like I'm the one who gets worked up when I so much as glance at portraits acting out tragic plays."

"That was once! And it's only because I actually understand cultural—"

"Hmm, yeah, sure—"

They bickered playfully for a little while longer, until Grace heard Dirk yelp—and then Anita's distant scolding through the phone.

"I'll call back tomorrow! I'll call back tomorrow!" Dirk said hurriedly. "And you have to explain everything to me properly tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Grace promised.

"You won't be calling anyone tomorrow as long…!" Anita began in the background.

There was a small click as Dirk hung up. Grace pulled back the receiver from her ear and stared at it for a moment, as though embedded within the plastic was Dirk's very soul. After accepting that he was no longer there, she placed the receiver back in its slot and tried to settle back into the sofa. There had been no ambush or awful tragedy in the few hours she had been asleep, so she decided it wouldn't hurt if she rested for just a little longer—but she found she couldn't fall asleep.

The little sleep she had gotten was enough to restore her body to a somewhat stable state. Her mind was too active now, excited by the prospect of Dirk calling once again tomorrow, of Lila Colvin offering to contact Ophelia through the spellbound sheet, of solving the only obstacle to Dumbledore's plan.

After a few minutes of thinking it all over—wondering what to say to James and Lily about the phone call once they returned—she grew bored of twiddling her thumbs in the dark. She lit the fireplace. Warmth and light surged within the sitting room. With the invisibility cloak wrapped around her shoulders, she made her way into the kitchen, where she found the half-eaten tray of treacle tart sitting on the counter. Her appetite had long since returned after talking to Dirk, and she readily took the tray in her hands along with a fork. She meant to eat only a bit of it, but ended up scarfing down the whole thing. She did another loop around the kitchen in the hopes that there might be a second, secret treacle tart hiding somewhere, but there wasn't.

She dawdled for a bit longer, and then caught sight of the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard. There was a small square window fitted in the top. It was just enough for Grace to see the bright sky and the old hornbeam tree.

She reached for the doorknob without thinking and let herself outside. The crisp morning air bit into her, and she shivered into the invisibility cloak. She plodded over to the hornbeam tree, broad and leafy, feathering out with dozens of branches to keep her safe and protected. She slumped against its trunk and slid down to the ground, suddenly feeling very much like she was at home. There might be all sorts of strange Muggle machines in the kitchen and a light bulb in the sitting room that she didn't know how to turn on, but there was also this tree. The tree she'd tried and tried and tried to climb as a child, only to fall each time. The tree James always crashed into whenever he was going too fast on his training broomstick and couldn't brake in time. The tree that they hid behind for cover whenever they were in the midst of a snowball fight. The tree that had witnessed all her years, from birth to now, all the awful, ugly moments—and all the wonderful, lovely ones, too.

She didn't know for how long she stayed under that tree, enjoying the breeze, simply remembering all the moments she'd spent with Mum and Dad and James at the cottage, but she knew it had been long enough for someone to worry, because James came out.

"There you are," he said with heavy relief, coming out through the kitchen door and striding over to her. He was still wearing the same robes from last night: blood-splattered from when he had been nursing Grace's wounds, soil-strewn from his tussle with Peter. They seemed a little singed now, too, perhaps from whatever he had done to the summer home in Falmouth. "We just came back, Lily and I, and I didn't see you in your room."

"I slept for a little while," Grace said before she could be scolded for staying up, "but then I woke up, and I couldn't go back to sleep…so I came out here."

James came up right next to her, shadowed under the enormous tree alongside her. He nodded in understanding, and then stilled. They both stared at one another for a moment.

"Everything was all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, feeling as though they were reading from sort of script. "What about you?"

"Yeah," he echoed. "The summer home is going to need quite a bit of rebuilding. Vance is sticking around till noon when the Auror Office is supposed to get a call to check the place. I'll probably be called into the Office then, but that'll be much later."

Grace broke eye contact the moment he mentioned the summer home. Something in her stomach twisted at the thought of the place that had served as her home in shambles.

"Okay," she said numbly.

"Lily got the stuff you asked for. She put the books in your room, and the cat's by the fireplace now."

"Okay."

Apprehension was creeping over her. Now that their tasks were done and the urgency that had clung to the night had vanished, there was nothing stopping them from having a conversation. A real conversation. About everything.

She glanced up at James. He was close enough to her that she could see how haggard he looked, how tirelessly he had toiled through the night for her. His eyes were dark-rimmed and bloodshot. She looked up at him and felt guilt drown her heart. Why should she feel so reluctant to talk to him? After he had brought Dumbledore to her rather than turn her into the Aurors? After he had defended her and treated her and about to go lie to the Auror Office for her? After he continued to love despite all the harsh words she'd flung his way?

"Do you want to sit down with me?" she asked.

James blinked with surprise.

"Er, sure," he said after a brief moment, collapsing beside her. His head thumped lightly against the bark of the tree. He smelled faintly of ash.

Grace twisted the end of the invisibility cloak around her fingers. "I… Thank you for…everything. Really. And… I'm sorry about everything that happened before… There had been a lot going on during holiday in December. And I know that doesn't excuse it, but you should know that it wasn't true—or at least most of it. I—" Grace's throat was beginning to tighten up, "—I'd been trying to create a public split with you, so that the Death Eaters wouldn't have any qualms about me. But then after Mum and Dad… It got a bit too real. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," he said easily, so easily.

Grace looked at him, and she saw a sea of love and forgiveness in the hazel of his eyes. She hoped he saw the same in hers.

"You don't need to think on that ever again," he continued. "It's all done and buried. Lily forgives you, too. And, I'm sorry as well. As real as it got for you, there was still some excuse. Everything I said was real—and it also wasn't, because none of it was really true. I was lashing out. Nothing I said then was—"

"It's okay, James," she choked out. "You really don't have to. I know."

"I just want it to be clear," he said firmly. "Mum and Dad loved us both fiercely, flaws and all. And I love you the same."

She looked away from him and pressed the hilt of her palms against her eyes, because she really, really did not want to cry anymore.

But the tears were pricking the corners of her eyes anyway.

"Hey," James said weakly, voice noticeably thick as well, "this was supposed to be a heartwarming moment."

"You made it too heartwarming," she complained quietly, wiping at her eyes forcibly. "Merlin, I just… I dunno… It's just been a lot. This past night. No, honestly, this whole year."

"Tell me about it," James murmured. He looked at her properly. "How are you feeling?"

"I dunno… I just feel…so unlike myself." It was strange saying it out loud. She had avoided it for so long, the truth of herself, the flux of emotion stirring within her. She had buried it within herself, afraid to put it in words, afraid that giving her fears form would make them more real. But as she laid her head against the bark of the hornbeam and quietly unpacked her heart to James, she found that instead of becoming more weighed down—she felt lighter. "When I think back to when I first thought of this plan, when I cornered Regulus and walked him through it… I feel so foolish. I can't believe I was so reckless. I met with You-Know-Who with scarcely any preparation, and I… I sort of thought my own fury would carry me through, and it just barely did, I think. But I wasn't rewarded for it, of course not. Every time I acted rashly, I was punished."

Her eyes flitted away, staring emptily into the rosy horizon. When she rushed to meet with Bellatrix after her parent's deaths despite Regulus's warnings, she'd been tortured with the Cruciatus curse. When she decided to withhold information about Greyback from You-Know-Who, she'd been punished through Regulus. When she induced her first prophecy in a last-ditch effort to spare Benjy Fenwick's life, she'd only managed to prolong his suffering.

"And all I am is rash. I'm hotheaded and thoughtless and hasty and… When Vance started training me, I was told to sit still and be quiet and only say what I had memorized and—it wasn't me. The more I tried to fit into my role and fulfill my promise, the more I lost myself. It didn't feel like I was doing anything brave at all. I just felt like I was stuck playing pretend. It felt like the greatest service I could possibly do was just saying my lines properly and—I hate that I didn't like it, because someone needs to spy. The Order needed a spy, and what I was doing was important and necessary, but it didn't feel that way… It was awful—and I think I only managed through it because Regulus was there, too… I dunno. I thought it would be different, I suppose. I thought it would be better—like a story or something—but it wasn't."

Silence swallowed her last few words. She trailed off. James shifted beside her. Grace huddled into herself, pulling and pooling the invisibility cloak into her lap, fisting her hands into the soft, silky material. Her eyes seared with hot tears, but she refused to let them fall. She had cried enough times today.

"I know what you mean," James began.

Her head snapped to the left. Of all the words she expected James to say, those five certainly weren't among them. She thought he would comfort her, counsel her, tell her to try again, explain that though it was hard, it was right.

"I feel the same way about being an Auror," he continued. His voice was croaky, tired. "It wasn't so bad, I suppose, when I was still a trainee. I didn't have as many expectations then. But then I became a junior Auror, and I was assigned a mentor… And it all started to sour. It wasn't like anything I had expected. I wanted to catch Death Eaters, but they put me with a team to find a counterfeiting ring that I honestly couldn't care less about. All I ever do is paperwork—and it's boring, yeah, but worse than that… I'm angry with myself, because I shouldn't feel that way at all. It's like you said: someone has to do it. Someone needs to file the paperwork that puts criminals to trial. Someone needs to find that counterfeiter, because someone else is getting swindled otherwise. But… I just wish that person wasn't me. And the longer I'm there, wishing I wasn't, the worse I feel… I feel less like myself, too—but I'm afraid I'm fooling myself by saying that. I've probably always been like this: this shallow, this careless."

It was as though he'd stolen the words out of her very heart. She looked him over again, drank in the slump of his shoulders, the bags under his eyes.

"Why haven't you quit?"

His eyes met hers, hazel bleeding into hazel. "Because we're the same. I said I'd do it."

It warmed her as much as it saddened her to hear that: We're the same. They were, weren't they? They were greedy. They were spoiled. They expected too much. They wanted to be admired, in their own ways. It was natural for them to demand attention, when they had been given every ounce of their parents' while growing up. It was why James had collected so many friends, why he attempted foolhardy tricks while soaring over the Quidditch field. It was why Grace had denied her condition so fiercely, why she crafted such needlessly intricate plots and pranks.

"We're so stupid."

His laugh came out as a forceful exhale. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Anyone else would just leave and be done with it, but we're sitting here complaining that we're stuck when we're the only ones holding ourselves back."

"Must be a Potter thing."

"If Mum were here, she'd tell us to just come home and not worry about any of it."

James snorted. "Yeah—after yelling at us for getting caught up in something so dangerous."

She hummed in quiet agreement. Her fingers began to pull at some of the loose threads at the hem of her shirt. Above them, the sky grew golden, but the day felt as dark as ever.

"Let's just quit," she suggested. "Let's be cowards. And then, let's learn to be brave again. Properly this time."

It was hard for him, too. She could see it in his bloodshot eyes, in the tense purse of his lips.

"If it helps," she added with just a hint of amusement, "your sister recently died, so it shouldn't be too hard to take off from work."

He smiled wanly. "All right—let's do it. And this time around, let's be brave without thinking of it. That might be where we started going wrong: going in wanting to be brave, wanting to be seen as brave."

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll try."

"I'll try, too."

They each spat into their palms and reached out to shake on it. When all was said and done, James tried to wipe his spit on Grace's sleeve. She retaliated by shoving him, and suddenly they were laughing.

"I missed you," he said fondly.

Her heart was overflowing. She pulled him into a hug. "Missed you, too, Jam-Jam."

---

A/N : Hello, everyone! Hope you're all well!

I'm currently super swamped with school (and also trying to find a job), but I've been piecing together this chapter bit by bit. It took an achingly long amount of time to write this, simply because I kept having to get used to the story after being away from it for such long periods. It might be a little choppy because of that, but I still hope you enjoy it! There's a lot of heavy stuff (Regulus's insecurity, James and Grace promising to become more humble), but it was still fun to write.

As always, thank you for the faves, follows, and reviews! Please keep letting me know what you think :)

Guest (most recent one) : Thank you so much! A Regulus and Sirius conversation is definitely coming; the scene is pretty much completely written, I just need to write the rest of the chapter that goes along with it, haha

madeofbadassium : Wow, thank you so much! Your review was so wonderful and inspiring to read. Really glad the story and its themes resonated so much with you! :)

Random Reader : Haha, well I went like 4 months without updating this story so ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ Anyway, thank you so much for the kind review! So, so glad you enjoyed the chapter. Horcrux hunting is absolutely coming (and I'm so excited for it — if I ever get the time to write it).

averyeve5 : Loved reading all your comments! Totally understand your hesitance towards the pairing; everyone has their own ships, ofc, but I'm really glad you ended up enjoying it! Ngl, the sibling relationship is what really makes this story for me, too

scars from the sun : Thank you so much! Glad you enjoyed the chapter :)

Graculus : We'll see Sirius's thoughts about Grace/Reg more later! James has mixed feelings about Grace with ANY guy, but his opinion of Regulus has skyrocketed since learning Reg drank a dangerous potion so Grace wouldn't have to—so we'll see how James balances those feelings out, haha.

Mars : haha, I saw your review on the exact day I finished my finals. I totally get how relieved you feel! Thanks so much for still reading :)

lilyflowerre : thank you so much! Absolutely love reading your reviews! Yeah, with how things have been going for him, Dumbledore was like expecting someone to burst in LOL. You've literally named all the characters who'll be popping up very, very soon! Sirius and Regulus time is definitely coming, but it'll be a while.

Anne LM : Thank you for the review! Haha, James knows he can't stop Grace. His worry is that Grace might want to stop spying after being hurt and Dumbledore/Vance will kind of push her to keep going out of duty or something. Dumbledore and Vance definitely want Grace to keep spying—but the issue is whether or not she wants to. Peter's escape is definitely going to bring up some problems!