AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 75

Lucius, Severus, and Regulus stood in the Malfoy Manor's sitting room in silence. None of them were big talkers in the first place, the silence was usually filled by Avery's chatter or Hermione's orders, but since neither of them was here, they sat in overwhelming silence at their separate corners of the room and waited. An hour or two ticked by. Eventually, dinner was served by the elves, but no one touched a single bite. What was there to say? What did anyone have to say about anything that had happened today?

Lucius had been at the Ministry from the beginning and therefore missed the action at the Lestrange Estate. It was Regulus, who had flooed into his home after sending Avery's unconscious parents through first, who told him what happened. According to him, Regulus barely managed to escape during the large-scale attack on the Estate. Stuck in the spot he had been standing before everything went to shit, he didn't have permission from Voldemort to move. Before the attack on the Estate and his narrow escape, Regulus had slipped his brother's old portkey into Avery's pocket, still inactivated after all this time, with just a little simple magic to change its destination. He listened to Regulus explain how Avery had given him a look when he realized that Sirius Black had to be tortured by them as their Initiation test. Lucius wasn't sure if that was enough to believe that he would try to save the older Black but it was clear that Regulus saw the change of heart or at least enough to risk it by slipping him the portkey.

Severus stumbled out of the floo half an hour after Regulus with a bloody shirt. An elf quickly rushed to him to attend to his injury, but quickly found the wound was already treated and healing by an expert touch. Lucius and Regulus waited for the fireplace to ignite with green flames once more, but it was the grave shake of Severus's head that told them that he did not manage to escape the Lestrange property with Sirius Black, which was their original plan.

"Hermione didn't come with me either," Severus unnecessarily told them. Hermione's absence was expected. There was no way she would take a step out of that property without ensuring that Sirius Black had managed to escape.

"Did…" Severus finally broke their silence, "she leave again?"

Everyone knew that the real question he wanted to ask was "Did she abandon us again?" No one answered his question, only if it was because they didn't want to know the real answer.

"I'll go home. My mother…" Regulus paused. She had gone to recapture her 'traitorous' eldest son when the news of his escape spread across the Estate.

"Don't you have a family tree at home? Can't you see if Black is… y'know… alive?" Severus asked carefully.

Regulus shook his head, "Mother dearest burnt Sirius off the second he didn't follow through with the Initiation last year. I can't see anything except the day he was born. Not even the full date, just the day."

They let out a collective sigh, why couldn't anything be easy and simple?

Severus stood up, getting ready to leave as well. As much as he was used to spending time with Lucius, he wasn't exactly the most comfortable presence to be around. It was almost funny how stifling the older Slytherin's presence was considering Hermione could easily be interpreted as the same level of intensity that prevented a sense of comfortable ease, but Severus found it quite untrue. No matter how serious Hermione was, she was never really uncomfortable to be around. If Lucius's presence felt like being alone in a dark unknown forest by yourself with the possibility of monsters watching, Hermione's felt like being alone in the comfort of his old bedroom with the reassurance his mother and Alphard were just down the hall.

"Severus," Lucius's voice stopped him in his tracks as he was just about to exit the room.

"Y-yeah?"

"Evans's twin sister—"

"Lily?" The mention of Lily was completely unexpected by Lucius. "What about Lily?"

"She was there, at the Ministry." Lucius ignored Severus's audible gasp. "She was hit."

"B-by what?"

Lucius shook his head, "I was busy fighting off some of her friends, but it was Rodolphus. The moment his eyes landed on her red hair, he charged after her like a madman."

Severus felt like his legs were made of jelly. He couldn't bear the weight of his own body and tumbled to the ground.

"Was…was it green? Was the spell green?"

Thankfully Lucius shook his head, "But with a caster like Rodolphus, it's likely something incredibly dark, dark enough to wish they were dead instead."

Severus looked dangerously ill.

"Why are you only telling me this now!" Severus snapped, pulling himself off the ground. "What if Lily's dead?! What if she's dead I wasted my time sitting here like a fucking idiot!"

Lucius grabbed his arm tightly before Severus could run out.

"Because I knew you'd run off to that useless twin the second you heard the news," Lucius narrowed his eyes. "That wound," he pointed to the bandages he wore across his waist. "You don't think I would notice how perfectly and expertly you were treated? In the middle of a fucking battlefield, no less? You are alive because of Hermione Evans, not Lily Evans. You have a life debt to her. The least you can do is sit here like the rest of us and wait for her news. That is our duty as her as—" Lucius cut himself off.

What were they to Hermione? Her soldiers? Her servants? Her tools?

Severus scoffed. "Let me know when you're able to finish that sentence, but until then," he pulled his arm out of Lucius's grasp. "I'm going to see the state of my best friend who might be on the brink of death or already fucking dead." He stepped forward, making the most menacing face that Lucius had ever seen on the younger boy. "You better hope that Lily is still alive, because if I lose another person I love without being able to say goodbye to before they close their eyes forever… Not even Hermione will be able to save you."

…

To others, Peter Pettigrew's life was relatively easy. Sure, it wasn't picturesque, his good-for-nothing father had left his mother when she was pregnant. As a result, he grew up having less, yet wanting more, but he never starved, he got new uniforms for school the rare times his body decided to have a growth spurt and he always got birthday and Christmas presents. He had great friends who loved him and a happy school life. He knew it was a lot more than some kids. He and his mum lived in a small flat, she worked hard and long hours but had a sweet and kind demeanour. She doted on him and loved him in the wholesome and complete way that only mothers could. He was all she had.

Despite this 'easy' life, Peter often found himself feeling upset, unfulfilled, and unsatisfied. He thought about the heroes plastered on his wall and his bookshelf lined with comic books that depicted their grand and courageous heroics. When he was younger, that was who he wanted to be. A brave and famous hero. Someone people admired and looked up to. That was why he begged the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor. He believed it was the first step to becoming a hero…

But he wasn't. That was what Peter came to realize as he sat in Lily Evans's hospital room watching James fuss over his fiancée with tears in his eyes. Actually, if he was being very honest, his cowardice was something he noticed a lot earlier, even before Hogwarts. It was why he was so starstruck by heroes as a kid, but he was small and weak. So, he told himself to wait until he got older, when he grew bigger and stronger as well.

As the years passed and he grew bigger and stronger, not just physically, but magically, he stood up for himself against those who thought less of him, like the Slytherins. He remembered feeling so thrilled and powerful seeing the wariness in their eyes at least until they isolated him away from his friends and beat him.

"You think you're tough? You're nothing without your friends, Pettigrew."

He wanted to say that the pain from the beating wasn't the worst part, but the damage to his pride, and that he had the burning desire to prove them wrong. It would be like the stories in his comic books where the hero grows stronger from this incident and beats everyone up after a training arc. However, those weren't his thoughts or his life. The beating hurt. It hurt so much that he could hear himself begging them to stop as he curled into a ball, crying and cowering. If he was a hero, he'd have to risk getting hurt like this again… that scared him. It terrified him more than anything. Yet his beloved friends wanted to take part in this war. He couldn't understand it, understand them. The thought that he could get hurt, the thought that he might die. It was too much.

However, Peter was reassured when Lily Evans became James's girlfriend. She was weak as well, unlike her sister, she wouldn't want to join the war and she wouldn't let James join either. If James didn't join, none of them would since they were the Marauders, they were brothers who did everything together.

It was why Peter sat in the corner of Lily's hospital room with secret resentment burning in his eyes. He had relied on the girl to prevent them from joining the war, only to find out that she had rushed head-first into the first official battle even though she wasn't as skilled or powerful as James or her twin sister.

Useless.

"I don't understand, I thought you said she was fine!" James held onto a healer. "Why isn't she waking up!"

"I didn't say she was fine," the healer pushed his friend's hands off. "I said she's stable. We won't know when she'll wake up. Not until we find out what she's been hit with."

"She's just sleeping though… she just needs to wake up. Just wake her up!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter." The healer gave him a regretful look. "There's nothing more we can do."

Peter watched the despair in his friend's eyes as he softly caressed Lily's face, whispering things into her ear. He was frozen with grief right now, but he knew James well enough to know that wouldn't last. That grief would turn into anger and a desire for vengeance, which meant that the Marauders would too soon join the war.

"Peter," James called out to him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for being here with me."

"No," Peter gave him a weak smile. "It's the least I can do."

"I…" He pushed her hair away from her face, "I have to get back to my dad. Could you watch over her until I come back?"

"Me?" Peter looked surprised. "W-What if she wakes up?"

"Exactly, I want her to see a familiar face instead of random healers. I don't want her to be alarmed."

"Right." Peter nodded. "Of course."

"Thanks, mate. I owe you one." James patted Peter on the shoulder before giving Lily a longing glance as he exited the room.

Peter stood from his chair and walked over to Lily Evans. Unlike his negative feelings towards Hermione Evans, Lily and Peter had a good relationship. It was Peter who had comforted Lily the most after the twins' legendary fight. No one understood her as Peter could, the duality of loving someone but being so terribly jealous of them to the point of resenting them.

He loved his friends. He loved being a part of the brotherhood with the Marauders. He wanted it to last forever. Despite loving his friends, he wasn't stupid, blind, or deaf. He could see the difference between them, their looks, grades, intelligence, popularity, magic skills, duelling skills, and most importantly, their true bravery.

He envied them. He resented their greatness for making his inadequacy feel even larger in comparison.

"I liked you, Lily," Peter told her as he stood by her bedside, "so why did you have to go and do something so stupid?" He held her wrist, feeling the pulse of her arteries beneath his thumb, "Why Lily? Why?"

…

Sirius opened his eyes with a groan as his stiff and painful body protested any form of movement. The last thing he remembered was grabbing the only lifeline he had in the moment before imminent death, a portkey thrown by the very person who had betrayed him and Hermione. Hell, he didn't even know for sure if the necklace he'd thrown, currently entangled in his hand, was a portkey in the first place. Sirius had just grabbed it out of instinct and desperation. He didn't have time to second guess Avery's intentions or whether it was a real lifeline or not. It was death or the portkey.

He tried to slowly get up from the hard table he had portkeyed onto, but sharp pain caused him to clutch his knee. The knee that Dolohov had broken by jumping off a boulder and landing his entire body weight on was shattered. The knee was in such a bad shape that Sirius was pretty certain he would have to cut his trousers off due to the swelling. It took him a long time and a lot of swearing, but he finally managed to get onto his good leg.

He hobbled off the table and frowned in confusion as he looked around his new and unknown location. He appeared to be in what could only be described as a small hut, probably half the size of his dorm room in Gryffindor Tower.

Sirius rushed as fast as he could to the door but found it locked from the outside.

So this was just another prison. Although he had to admit this one was significantly nicer than the one in the Lestrange Estate. It kind of reminded him of Hagrid's hut back in Hogwarts. It was small but had all the necessary amenities. There was a small bed in the corner with comfortable and soft-looking bedding, next to it was a decently sized dresser. On the other side of the hut was a large basin sink where one could do laundry or dishes, and a wooden stove that wasn't big enough to dual as a fireplace. There were two cabinets, one that contained some plates, bowls, knives and other kitchen tools, and the other that was filled to the brim with food. Without thinking, Sirius rushed to the cabinet and flung it open. He grabbed a loaf of bread and bit into its fluffy delicious interior.

"Mmmm," he let out a moan of satisfaction. Merlin, it was so good he could cry. The tall cabinet had a ledge right at waist level, like a countertop, right near the edge was a long rectangular ceramic plate. He lifted the cover of the plate and let out a laugh of joy.

Butter.

He didn't even bother taking the two hops to the cabinet next to him for a knife, instead, he ripped off the piece of break and picked up the butter as though he was enjoying chips and salsa. The salty fat melted in his mouth, and this time, a tear of relief and joy did form in his eyes. He opened the cabinet again with a mouth stuffed with bread and butter. He pulled out some cheese and some dried meats. He ate savagely, devouring the food at an alarming pace.

The physical feeling of fullness was wonderful, but it didn't last long. His body seemed to reject the food, after so long of not seeing it. He barely managed to get to the sink before vomiting the very food he had joyously shoved down his throat.

Sirius hung over the sink, panting and exhausted. He cupped his hands together and drank the clear and cold water, uncaring that his hands were dirty from weeks of grime built up from the dungeons. Once he felt like his stomach was moderately full of water, his senses returned, less like a starved animal trying to survive and more like a person who was injured and tired.

He turned off the water and started exploring the little hut in more detail, using one of the chairs as his crutches. He glanced outside the window, unsuccessfully checking if they'd open, but saw nothing useful as it was dark and the warm light from within the hut made it near impossible to see anything outside.

The food cabinet was filled to the brim with foods that were fresh and perishable, but he couldn't detect any stasis charm or magic of any kind. Someone must've recently stocked all this food for it to not be molding. Not only that, Sirius opened the dresser to find it full of men's clothes that looked as though they'd fit him perfectly. There were all the basics such as cotton t-shirts, trousers, socks, underwear, pyjamas, a light jacket for a chilly evening, and a pair of sturdy leather boots that fit him exactly.

At the bottom of the dresser was a big box. He opened the latch to see an extensive healing kit, filled with potions, bandages, ointments, pastes and more. If he was previously concerned that this was another Death Eater ploy, he no longer felt that anxiety. No, he was quite certain that Avery had tossed him a portkey to a safe house specifically prepared for him.

With that assurance, Sirius pulled out a pain potion, the drowsy kind, and knocked it back while slowly nibbling on some saltine crackers he'd found in the cabinet, careful not to upset his sensitive stomach even further.

He peeled off his dirty clothes, ripping his pants off to get them past his knees, and lay down on the bed waiting for blissful sleep to finally wash over him.

Oh, washing… He wanted a hot shower. Gods he wanted a steaming hot shower with luxurious soaps and oils. He wanted desperately to feel clean once more, help him feel human once more.

His lids grew heavy as the artificially induced sleep lulled him into the first deep and restful sleep he had in a long time.

…

A soft click opened the door to the office.

"Mother?" Regulus walked into his father's office to see his mother nursing a large glass of firewhiskey. His father was nowhere to be seen, probably between the thighs of some girl in Knockturn Alley. It was a bigger shock Regulus didn't have any half-siblings, but if there was anything the Blacks thought important, it was lineage. Even for his philandering father, there was no way he was going to give his 'seed' to some random bird in the alleys of Knockturn.

"Where have you been?"

Walburga Black was a lot of things stuffed into a small woman. She was angry and repressed from being forced into a role of submission due to being a female. She was talented and smart, as the Blacks only demanded excellence. She was prideful and hateful. But none of these aspects was she ever so quiet…

"Malfoy Manor." He didn't see a point in lying. "During the attack on the Estate."

"So you've failed to be a part of the new legion of Death Eaters once more." She rubbed her temples. "All due to your brother."

It had been a long time since she had acknowledged Sirius as his brother. In the past, he was always just 'him'.

"It's almost funny," she let out an empty laugh, "how he inspires so much love from the people around him…"

"Why is it funny?" Regulus asked as he grabbed a separate crystal glass and poured himself a drink as well. He did not have a liking to firewhiskey like the rest of his family, preferring sweet elfish wine over the bitter-burning brown liquid that seemed to be the only thing that truly unified their family. However, Regulus could see that the situation called for something more bitter to dull the bitterness of life at the moment.

"I never gave him that love. Merlin knows your good-for-nothing father was never around enough to give it to him either, yet he seems to have enough to go around and inspire reciprocity. He gave it to you, he gives it to his idiotic Gryffindor friends, he drowns his mudblood bitch in it, and I think at some point he gave it to me as well… or tried to. I'm just wondering where he got it from."

Regulus nodded. "He is certainly the white sheep of the Black family."

His mother laughed. It was a rare sight, rarer than seeing Hermione laugh. The two women in his life were stoic individuals but for different reasons. Hermione rarely laughed because she was always so serious, so busy thinking and planning or plotting. His mother, on the other hand, didn't laugh because she was so very bitter.

Age hadn't smoothed her edges, but made them sharper. The built-up resentment towards her parents, her husband, her sons, and probably the biggest target was herself, for never having that Gryffindor courage she scorned so much to go after what she truly wanted; a childless unmarried life. A life where she could learn advanced magic like her brother, Alphard and become a world-renowned expert, or go into politics like her other brother and become an unrivalled politician. Or travel the world or write a book or something! Something more than just Orion Black's wife and Sirius and Regulus Black's mother. Regulus knew that some muggle women did both, a career and a mother, but that wasn't the Pureblood way. So unable to accept her life stuck as a housewife and a mother, his mother grew bitter and clung to the one title this life had offered her; Matron of the House of Black.

The Matron had one real role, to be the exemplary Black and run a household that would make the family proud for centuries.

Sirius had put a major kink in that.

"So did you find him and kill him yourself?" Regulus downed his drink in one foul gulp and poured himself another. "Make him pay for ruining the good Black name for all these years?"

His mother stared at him.

Walburga knew her youngest loved his brother, even after all this time and all the lies he told himself, her, and Voldemort about the 'shame' he felt towards having a brother like Sirius, she knew that the blood between brothers ran thicker than the one between the parents and children. Yet despite Regulus's love for Sirius, this was the child that chose her. Even when everyone else chose someone else, Regulus chose her, chose this ghost of a family, and chose his lineage.

"No," she told him honestly. "I saved him."

…

She always thought his black hair was so beautiful. Silky, smooth, and soft to the touch. To be fair, all of him was beautiful to the point where she sometimes felt insecure about her appearance when they had been together at their peak.

"I've put him in a magically induced coma. He won't wake until he's fully healed or by a powerful external magical force."

"Understood."

Heather Bones was in her mid-40s with soft-looking red hair that flowed nicely down her shoulders. She wore a shorter Healer robe that marked her status in the Hospital as a senior staff and a leader of a department. Her Assistant Healers and her apprentices were probably going crazy looking for her.

The last time the two had seen each other was the day of Alphard's funeral. She had accused Hermione of not caring, then treated her for her burns after her attempt to get Alphard out of the Black Crypts.

After calming down at the Lestrange Estate, Hermione beelined straight to St. Mungo's to find a healer for Sirius. At first, she planned on going to Belby, but she thought of the likeliness that he would follow her without complaint.

"Try one that actually gives a shit." Was his likely response.

Heather Bones was the pinnacle of Healers. In a way, this woman was a mother to her when her mother could not, just like how Alphard was a father to her. Heather Bones fed her from the bottle and sang her lullabies, she watched and was a part of her developmental milestones, but no matter how motherly she had been, to Heather Bones, Hermione was always a patient.

Heather Bones was the ideal Healer because she cared for her patients, wished them to get better, and worked hard to achieve it. She was empathetic to their ailments and their life problems, she listened, hugged, and even teared up for their pain and losses, but never ever crossed the boundary between patient and healer.

Honestly, it was admirable.

She was capable of doing something many healers could not. Alphard certainly could not set those boundaries and keep them. He took care of each patient by thinking of them as her. This meant he took their wins with elation, but their losses were hard, making him unreliable and susceptible to burnout. Belby didn't need boundaries because he hated his patients as individuals, but loved their illnesses and diseases making him the absolute worst at patient interaction. Bones was the perfect mix. It made her excellent at her job. If Belby hadn't been such a genius in his craft, raking in ample funding thanks to his potions, Bones could have easily been hospital director.

Her clear boundaries were why she was already packing up her medical bag, getting ready to leave to resume her shift at St. Mungo's to deal with the aftermath of the coup.

"Thank you for doing this, Bones."

She let out a snort, "You didn't give me much of a choice, cornering me and demanding that I follow you, otherwise a patient was going to die."

"But you didn't have to listen. I know you have lots of patients today who desperately need a good healer like you."

Bones zipped up her bag and let out a sigh as she finally looked up to meet her eyes. The year after Alphard's death hadn't been kind to Hermione. Even without a thorough examination, Bones could tell she was not doing well.

"I've made many mistakes in my life, but one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made was assuming you didn't care when Alphard died. As a healer, I've seen many many people deal with grief and loss of loved ones. I knew it manifested differently for each person, and still… I made a terrible mistake to you on a terrible day. I owe you this much, at the very least."

"…Thank you."

The healer gave her a sad smile, she watched Hermione softly touch the sleeping boy's face as though he'd break if she applied even the slightest bit of pressure. Bones could see small bits and similarities between him to Alphard, but most of all, there was a kindness about the boy even in his sleeping form.

This boy was special to her. Seeing Hermione make an intimate connection with someone outside of her direct family made her heart swell with a sad type of joy.

She cleared her throat, "I'll be off now."

Hermione got up from her position on the foot of the bed to walk her out of the small hut.

"Bones," she seemed to hesitate. "I know I've already asked for so much, but please don't—"

"—tell anyone about this place? And the boy?" She finished her sentence.

Hermione nodded.

"If his friends and family ask me directly…I can't lie, but I promise I won't bring it up on purpose."

"If they do ask, and you tell them, please tell them not to bother trying to come here. It's under Fidelius, even you won't be able to return once you leave."

"A Fidelius?!"

"Tell them that he'll return to their side once he's better. It's a promise."

"Hermione—"

"Please? Heather?"

Being called by her name like they used to when Hermione was little stirred up emotions in Bones's chest. The memory of a brilliant little girl running to her to show her the newest cross-stitch she learned made her heartache.

With a surrendering nod, she kissed Hermione on the top of her forehead.

"You let me know if you need anything else or if something goes wrong, yeah?"

…

Hermione sat in the hut listening to Sirius's soft breaths with nothing to do or think or plan for the first time in years. She just sat there doing nothing. Not only that, she felt like an empty husk. The sensation of emptiness was new, something she had never felt. Previously, she was always too full to function: too full of emotions, magic, a parasite, trauma, plans, backup plans, drugs, pain, anger, fear, guilt, past, present, future, life, and death. She battled with herself to contain everything in, to keep it tightly locked up, and hidden away. Never let go, always conceal and repress, whether it was through willpower, potions, potions, or distractions. Never stop the struggle, never give in the slightest, so tie it up tightly and guard it without rest.

For once, she had let go and let go of it all. She opened her metaphorical cage that was bursting at the seams and let it rampage as it pleased for the first time ever. Not even when she let go during the first initiation had she let go to this scale, because she knew she had to grab Sirius and get out. This time, it didn't matter. Sirius was gone, presumably somewhere safe for now, but her friend died and she failed.

So she let go of all the built-up…everything in one phenomenally destructive bang. She didn't know humans could pulverize the way they did, she didn't know trees could shatter or the air burn. She didn't know how raw power felt and how light she could feel using dark magic. It was like a drug, giving a stupendous high that she could not express. It was terrifying how much she enjoyed it, how liberating it felt, she could still taste it in the back of her throat.

It was nothing as Harry described, it didn't feel dirty or suffocating like there was a dark damp cloth covering her heart. No, Hermione was sure she had never breathed so freely since she started this second life.

It was crazy to say, but she understood Voldemort now. Dark magic had a pull on people like him and herself. It was a funny way to think about it, but it reminded her of how some people hated brussel sprouts while others didn't mind it or even loved it. Harry, while he dabbled in some Dark Arts, never took a liking to it, opting for the Disarming spell, even during his final showdown with Voldemort. It was expected. Harry was pure, he was good. She, on the other hand, didn't care so much about her soul, about its purity or goodness. She wasn't above sinking to their level as long as it meant victory.

But when she glanced at Sirius, suddenly the relief the Dark magic had given her felt dirty. He was good. He was Light. He was warmth and kindness. He was love. He was everything Dark magic wasn't and she was turning into everything that Dark magic was. They were finally together again, their paths had finally crossed once more, only for their souls to diverge so completely.

She stood up and walked to his bedside once more. This could be one of the last times they could meet when her soul was still somewhat good, somewhat uncorrupted.

She rubbed her perpetually freezing hands together to unsuccessfully warm them up before gently placing them on his chest. He was so warm that she worried he had a fever, but Bones had resolved the fever he had presented with, along with the collapsed lung, broken bones, and various other ailments.

She carefully slipped into the bed next to him, making sure not to disturb him by lying near the end. She placed her head over his heart and listened to the beating of his heart, loud, clear, and very much alive.

"I lost a friend today," she whispered to him. "I couldn't fix him. I couldn't save him."

She took his steady heartbeats as his comforting words to soothe her aching heart.

"Sirius… I'm so scared of not being able to fix it all, of not being able to save everyone. I'm so tired." Tears dripped down across her nose bridge and onto his shirt.

His deep breathing reassured her worries.

"And I missed you so much."

His warmth pulled her into a blissful sleep, one she hadn't had since the last time they slept in the same bed.

"I love you."