Chapter 6

Someone removed the opaque rotten hood covering her head, and she blinked at the aggressive daylight.

The Dark Lord hadn't arrived yet.

The austere dining room must have been elegant, once. Three tall chequered windows framed the wall on her right, illuminating particles of dust flying in the sunlight. Only practical, bygone chairs remained stored in a corner, yet their luxurious quality prevailed. Selene wondered who used to live here. A rich, fancy lord, surely.

Beside her, Dorcas stumbled back to her feet after being thrown unceremoniously to her knees. She glared at the Death Eater who pushed her, her irises heavy with the promise of pain.

Soon enough, a group of masked individuals entered the dining room through the opposite door, engaged in relaxed conversation. Most of them were unfamiliar; probably posted elsewhere and only came for the show at Voldemort's request. Few bothered to give the prisoners more than a quick, disinterested look.

Despite knowing he'd be there, her breath caught at the sight of him.

Regulus had no mask on.

Except the one he wore on a daily basis.

He stopped when he saw her and stepped aside mechanically to let the others fill the room before him. Blood drained from his face, but thanks to his practiced indifference, no emotions flashed on his features other than icy rage. He didn't know. Another Death Eater, who could be no one else but Evan, let out a string of muffled cursed words behind his mask. He nudged his friend forward with a discrete push, and Regulus obliged, eyes on her.

He looked different from the last time she'd seen him. Older, as if he'd been entrusted with too much power too quickly.

Regulus took his time to amble across the room to her, leaving the other Death Eaters to post themselves alongside the tapestry-covered walls. Evan stood nearby. She was grateful he had a mask on, for he would have betrayed Regulus in a matter of seconds. Too damn demonstrative, Rosier wore his emotions on his sleeve and kept sending concerned peeks at his best friend.

Regulus stopped a couple inches from her, close enough so that all the Death Eaters surrounding them wouldn't notice his telling look.

Please act with me.

"Now we got two of them?"

The question wasn't directed at her, but his gaze nevertheless stuck to hers, hoping she'd read between his carefully monitored lines.

How the fuck did you end up here?

"Captured three days ago, Lord Black," Crouch replied, kicking Evan discretely in the shin to force him to stay still. Evan stopped fidgeting. "She apparated on the grounds, alone, and took down two of us before being stunned."

"Why wasn't I advised?" Regulus' voice stung, cool as glacier rivers carving through ice, and he turned slightly to gaze at Crouch's mask. Oh, he was pissed. And this wasn't for show.

"Bellatrix said she would take care of informing the Dark Lord."

The woman outranked Regulus. That much was clear. He stopped glaring at Crouch, and a flicker of worry flashed on his face as he took her in.

"Gryffindors and their saviour's complex." He tutted disapprovingly, grabbing her chin to examine her face. Scanning her body for signs of injuries. "You ran straight to the wolves."

Now, what am I supposed to do with you?

Selene's eyes narrowed in a glare, hoping no one could see how her traitor heart melted under his examination. Her voice wasn't as angry as she hoped. "I won't let my sister rot in a cell."

You told me she was alive; you should have expected me to come.

Regulus let go of her chin, pinning her in place with a haughty look. "Then here you are, also captured. What a prideful girl, thinking you can outmatch us by yourself."

Around them, Death Eaters sneered and whistled. If the absence of the silver mask wasn't telling enough, the way Death Eaters listened to his every word made it clear Regulus served as a high-ranking officer in Voldemort's army. And he seemed well-liked by the others. What the fuck had he done to get himself promoted so young? She didn't want to know.

Notwithstanding the taunt, the meaning behind his word stood out pretty clearly:

I wouldn't have told you if I had known you'd be that senseless. You should have brought people with you.

She gave him a shrug. "Seems like I'm the only one bold enough to try."

I failed at convincing them.

"Reckless," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips as if this wasn't the most inconvenient timing to realize he missed her. "We can prepare additional cells for ill-advised people like you. Should we expect any more visitors?"

Does anyone know you're here?

Selene tilted her chin down as he circled her like a hunting shark. The observers whispered between themselves, acknowledging that Black had claimed his prize. He caught hold of a strand of dark hair, examining it before releasing it carelessly in her face. His pace was slow, calculated to the bare step, and not once did his eyes let go of her. This intimidation tactic might have worked with someone else.

Now, it was merely a way to touch her.

"Thank you, Regulus. I'll take it from here."

Her body jolted. The high-pitched voice came straight from her most atrocious nightmares. Voldemort looked nothing like she had imagined: tall, slender, a snake in human form who prowled in the dim room with such fluidity she knew instantly he was an accomplished dueller. He settled at the opposite end, gesturing at Regulus to join him. Voldemort's waxy skin appeared unnatural, but it was his red pupils that induced a shiver of nervousness down her spine, one he took notice of.

Regulus' hand brushed her thigh as he walked away in what seemed like a simple accident.

I am with you.

Voldemort waited until Regulus reached him and the Death Eater fell silent to observe his prisoners. Unease rushed through her veins at his silent examination, and she glanced at her sister. Despite her unflinching glare, Dorcas's heel dragged on the floor in a rare show of anxiety. Even his own men had straightened against the wall, their dominant hand locked by their wand in a fighting stance. She wondered if he revelled in it, the rushing blood to one's heart at his presence.

With a patience Selene could only aspire to, Voldemort opened his mouth when tension reached its paroxysm.

"Two sisters have gracefully ended up in our possession. Arrived on the porch, or so I'm told."

On cue, his army laughed, a trained public. What a showman: craving to draw all attention to him.

Voldemort widened his arms, as if to embrace the room. "What a prize, what a prize, my friends! Running away from the Order of the Phoenix, straight into my arms. Dorcas Meadowes," he whispered her name like a prayer. "Little spy, walking in my shadows for months. Useful skill for a Death Eater, if you ever want to become more than a tool for Dumbledore's ambition. You'd thrive within my ranks, can't you see?"

Dorcas spat on the ground.

Voldemort laughed. "Macnair? Show our invites some manners, will you?"

The small Death Eater who'd bought their food in the morning left his position beside the wall. He punched Dorcas in the stomach. Hard.

Selene couldn't help it. "No!"

Macnair slapped her across the face with the back of his wide hand, the nagging pain reverberating across her skull.

Dorcas' glare turned murderous.

So did Regulus', but the others were too focused on the prisoners to take note of it.

Voldemort shooed Macnair away with a pale hand. "No? Think about the possibilities. Training and showcasing your talent without ever needing to hide your magic. You're craving for action and power, and yet you seem to forget the only one that can give it all is me."

"You're delusional," Dorcas snapped, not even tempted in the slightest. "I don't want power. I just want you dead."

Macnair punched her again, but this time Selene remained silent, mostly dumfounded by the way her sister slammed her head into his mask, nearly knocking him unconscious. He fell at her feet, holding his face, and didn't stand up again.

Voldemort appeared more irritated by her answer than by the violent interruption. "Disappointing. I also heard you're giving a hard time to Bellatrix, who's only trying to help you."

Selene did a poor job in concealing her shocked laugh in a cough. Voldemort's eyes snapped to her, freezing her in place and leaving her to wish Regulus had taught her how to hide emotions. Shame burnt her cheeks when she looked away first. In her peripheral vision, Evan shifted on his feet.

"Let's see if you're more willing to talk than your sister."

The Gryffindor barely had a second to prepare before Voldemort violated her mind without using his wand at all.

For the past two days, Selene had reflected on what information she had to protect. Dorcas had tried to show her the basis of Occlumency—which was as little efficient as she could expect because of their lack of wand and their exhaustion—yet Selene felt slightly more confident in hiding the truth to a Legilimens as proficient as Voldemort. She couldn't protect their friend's identity, since their mere existence intertwined with hers. Such efforts would have been wasted anyway, because Selene understood Voldemort already had most of their names on that damn list. She didn't know where the Order's headquarters was, nor which missions they currently worked on.

The only information that could seriously endanger people's life was Regulus' note. So Selene kept that hidden away so deep inside her, pushing thoughts about her interactions with Moody on top of her mind so he wouldn't look further.

He dug deeper, though, clawing through her memories without restraint. Moments spent with her friends flashed into her mind; quidditch practices with James, pranks with Peter and Sirius, cigarettes at night with Remus, discussion about Death Eaters with Octavia and Aisha, arguments about the war with Dorcas. A headache sprung. Her heart came to her lips, and she almost threw up the meager content of her stomach as colours blurred before her eyes, a sped-up muggle movie of her life.

Regulus' forearm flared before her eyes, her tongue trailing alongside his dark mark.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

That got Voldemort's interest.

More memories of Regulus came to the surface, then, compelled up with no delicacy. Selene focused all her attention on the pining, the lust. The ache when he ended things. His cold indifference when she tried catching his gaze from across the Great Hall. She buried the laughs and the softer moments so deep inside her she feared never accessing the memories again.

Tentatively, she pushed against his intrusion, which did nothing but slow the tempo of his research. But he seemed to think her affair with Regulus got limited to a few intercourses for which he had no interest. Not once did he search for anything related to someone betraying him. Thank Godric fucking Gryffindor.

Voldemort got out of her head with a sharp inhale. "Useless girl! She's not even in the Order. Who added her to the list?"

Regulus took a step forward. "I did, my Lord."

"That surprises me, Regulus." Voldemort's tone softened despite the hard gaze he bested Regulus with. "Usually, you're more well-informed."

"Selene Meadowes is close to several people in the Order of the Phoenix. With that sister, I thought it prudent to add her to the list in prevention, to monitor her."

"Yes, I saw you monitored her quite closely."

Regulus smoothed the fabric of his robe, face blank. He must have known Voldemort would access these memories. He'd prepared an answer for this question as soon as he saw her in the room.

"Isn't this why I'm one of your lieutenants? To identify potential enemies and to recruit new followers at Hogwarts? Perhaps we don't need her now, but it was worthwhile to check."

Several Death Eaters looked at each other uncomfortably at Regulus' tone, but to Selene's surprise, Voldemort smiled. A practiced movement, purposeful and strangely charming. Oh, he must have been quite the sweet-talker in his youth.

"And how many times did you check, exactly?"

Selene fought the blush on her skin as Regulus replied with his usual disinterest. "Enough to make sure she had nothing else to offer."

People snickered, finally catching up on their conversation.

"She has no interest in joining the Order," he continued. "I should have removed her from the list when I came by last week, but it must have slipped my mind. I will see that her name is erased immediately."

"Neither shame nor fear whilst admitting a serious mistake, Regulus. Should I understand you give little care to your mission?"

Regulus inclined his head, deferent. "Lest the idea of giving you poor advice just to make myself look good, my lord. I am no one but your humble servant, and I will make up for that mistake."

Voldemort considered him.

"Once again, your devotion surpasses your pride, Regulus. You want to fix that mistake? Make Dorcas Meadowes talk." Voldemort's grin had lost all of its charm. Its cruelness had her blood ran cold. "By any means."

Regulus locked eyes with Selene. By Voldemort's side, he looked nothing like the man she'd grown fond of. His irises were dead voids, turning from the silver she knew well to hard concrete. Unbreaking. Suddenly, Selene wasn't so sure he'd let them go.

Then he pointed his wand straight at her.

Voldemort snickered, pleased, as Selene stopped breathing, frozen by shock. Regulus's gaze didn't falter. She avoided glimpsing at her sister, knowing what she'd find in the depths of her determined look: pity for Selene's fate. But no shame. And no hints of guilt. In no universe would Dorcas reveal the Order's plans or missions. She'd die before breaking and she'd let Selene die, too, all for that greater, immoral good.

"Impero."

Get on your knees, Selene. Down. On your knees. For fuck's sake, don't argue, just do it. Yes, good. Now be afraid. More. Remember what I can do. I've done terrible things to be in this position, and you're at my mercy.

"I'm sure we'll be here a moment," Regulus said to his master, who seemed to have had a similar thought. "Should I come for you as soon as she talks?"

Regulus exchanged a complicit gaze with Voldemort that wounded Selene beyond repair. He'd seen Black work before, enough times to entrust him with two important prisoners without having a single doubt he'd make them talk.

Voldemort disapparated as silently as he had appeared, with a final order to his promising lieutenant. "Don't disappoint me."

With Voldemort gone, the tensions eased a bit, and a collective sigh of relief slipped from the watching Death Eaters. Selene's next inhale was also lighter, yet she wouldn't consider herself relieved just yet. Regulus hadn't abandoned his cruel look, and when he stared down at the two prisoners, even Dorcas flinched.

Regulus reached her sister in a few long strides. "You heard him, Meadowes. Either you give us the information we seek, or I'll let all my friends here hex her with a spell of their choosing. Your choice."

He was playing. It couldn't be real.

The unforgiveable spell had been broken, but she remained on her knees, distrusting her wobbling legs.

"Voldemort will be so disappointed when you fail."

"Haven't you heard what I've just said?" He gestured towards Evan. "I'll let every single one of them hurt her."

Dorcas' eyes were granite. "Waste of your time. I. Won't. Talk."

He couldn't fake his impassivity this time. A few Death Eaters grasped their wand with avidity. Clearly, they lacked entertainment, and Regulus' astonishment just flung the door wide open for their cruelty.

"Now, now, you'll let your sister die for your pride? How Slytherin of you." His smug grin was so fake she feared everyone would see through it.

"I'm not afraid of you, Black. Do whatever you need to do."

Regulus shut his eyes for a long second, seeking the patience Dorcas was draining out. Then he started barking orders at the eager witnesses. "Out! All of you, back to your posts. Except you two." He gestured at Evan and Crouch. "I'll deal with our prisoners myself."

Not a single one argued, even those who seemed decades older—their grey hair betraying their age. They left the room in an orderly single line, but the last one lingered on the threshold.

"What about us taking turns on the pretty one?"

Selene recoiled; even through the mask, the man's eyes glimmered with hunger. Macnair. She hadn't even noticed he had risen from the ground.

So quick she almost missed it, Regulus' wand sliced across thin air and Macnair fell to the floor again. He gurgled something, clutching his chest. Blood pooled on his robe as if a sword had failed to cut his torso in half.

Regulus glared down at the man, unmoved by his suffering. "Do not question me."

Someone sighed beside her. Crouch. He called out to another, who caught the fallen Death Eater under his arms and drew him away from the room. Regulus slammed the door shut with a wave of his hand.

Once they were finally alone, Evan sat down on the windowsill, hitting his head back against the window. Crouch soundproofed the room and Selene got back up.

"Now, everyone's gone." Black pocketed his wand. "It's just us. Whatever you say will stay inside this room. Only the Dark Lord will know. It's the best deal I can give you."

"In your dreams, Black."

He threw both arms wide open, palms up. "You have to give me something."

"I don't!"

"For fuck's sake, Dorcas, he's trying to keep us both alive," Selene said, keeping her voice low despite Crouch's soundproofing charm.

Her sister nudged her chin at Regulus. "If he's so concerned about our well-being, he'll simply let us go."

"It's not that simple," Regulus snapped. "If I let you run away, he'll have my head."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"Dorcas, just give him something," Selene insisted. "The location of Order's Headquarters. Then we'll advise them once we're out, so they'll move it. No big deal."

"Black will have to pry the truth from my cold, dead body."

Selene grunted in exasperation, locking eyes with Regulus. They were stuck. Every single other person she loved would have given Regulus something, understanding it was their only way out. Even James. Time was running out. At some point, Bellatrix would return to check on her cousin's progress. Dorcas' bloody pride subsisted as their doom.

A red lightning flashed outside the main windows.

Curious.

Then another. Purple this time.

Selene rushed to the window to witness shadowed figures running across the grounds, throwing jinks and hexes to the patrolling Death Eaters. She spotted hair of flaming red. Lily.

Without hesitation, Evan cut the ties holding her hands behind her back, jumping back on his feet. "Go," he whispered. "We'll take care of the rest, okay?"

"Evan," Regulus intervened. "We need something before letting them go."

"We don't have time!" He clutched to his arm, to his dark mark. "They called for back-up. Your cousin is probably on her way."

"Reg," Crouch's voice was prudent, less agitated. "Orders are to kill prisoners if our location is jeopardized."

Rosier pointed at the door and said, "They should leave now! If Bellatrix arrives while they're still here, she'll kill them both."

Crouch gave both his friends a lengthy look. "If you let them go without getting what we need, we're all doomed, man."

Regulus paced around the room. "Fuck!"

An explosion flashed outside the window, sending bits of earth and grass in the air.

"Dorcas," Regulus stopped in front of her. "Please." The word costed him. "Just one small thing, then I'll let you go."

"Fuck you, Black."

Selene was moments away from slapping her in the face. Adrenaline ran through her veins. She felt like running, like fighting, like screaming at her sister for being so damn short-sighed. Evan peeled off his mask, peeking outside again. "Your brother's here. Don't let him see you."

"He can't leave," Crouch argued again, his face still hidden. With the father he had, Crouch couldn't reveal his identity under any pretenses. He shoved Regulus' shoulder. "The Dark Lord just entrusted you with this place. Reg, you have to fight them off."

"I will." Regulus took the mask from Evan as the building shook under another Confringo.

"We'll have to make it like we were completely outnumbered. Otherwise, he'll…" Crouch left the rest of his sentence pending.

"Leave that to me," Evan said, dragging an index down the collar of Barty's robe, before disappearing into thin air. Crouch shuddered and sighed, took out his wand, and followed him, wherever Evan had gone.

Ice had settled in the depth of Regulus' grey irises, and she caught his wrist to bring his attention back to her.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Dorcas pulled on her sleeve. "We have to go."

Selene ignored her sister and tightened her grip. "Regulus, what's going to happen to you if we escape?"

"Selene, LET'S GO."

"JUST WAIT A DAMN SECOND!"

Regulus let the Death Eater mask fall to the floor, twisting his now empty hand to free his wrist from her grip. His name almost left her lips, but the drift of his fingers up her arm to the back of her neck silenced her. Familiar eyes locked onto hers. Back to molten silver.

She let him kiss her. Perhaps she kissed him. It didn't matter. The moment their mouths met, it felt all wrong. A world away from the shattering storms they used to be. Kisses were supposed to feel heartwarming, honest in their intentions, or, at a minimum, fun.

Theirs was none of it. Full of sorrow and bitterness. She chased him when he pulled away, seeking a little more of that warmth despite his stinginess in giving some away. He obliged, pushing a little harder against her lips without parting them. When he pulled back again, she merely watched him. Regulus' smile was a little crooked.

No doubt he had tasted the farewell on her mouth, too.

"Obliviate," he whispered against her skin, though his wand hadn't been pointed at her. Dorcas stopped swearing under her breath. Selene waited for the following spell to sink its claw into her mind, but seconds ticked by and save for Regulus' fingers running down her spine, no shivers premeditated the forgiving spell. He exhaled, forehead on hers.

"I should obliviate you too."

"I'm not in the Order, Black."

"Good. I'll remove your name from the list, then." A sad smile twisted his mouth when he stepped back. "Fight if you want to, but don't put that target on your back. He won't stop until everyone in the Order is dead. And now that he knows you're no threat to him, he won't look for you."

Everything calculated, every single sentence to fit into his grand schemes. Octavia was right: Regulus had an agenda, something other than Voldemort or the Order of the Phoenix. Something bigger than war.

He waved at the furthest door, which unlocked, and Dorcas blinked out her dizziness as he said, "Run for the forest. You'll be able to apparate from there. Don't go fighting at the front."

That's where he would be, no doubts.

Deeper inside the house—although a lot closer than earlier—the walls rattled again. Someone screamed in pain.

"Come with us." A final useless plead, one he didn't heed. "Bring Evan with you. The Order will protect you."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

Despite expecting the answer, the words stung. Even if Selene danced on the line, a tightrope walker without a safety net, Regulus' position had been clear from the start. He'd been right; bloody Gryffindors with their saviour's complex. It wasn't enough to make him fall for her. She needed his full, unshaking commitment, which he could never give her by being Voldemort's lieutenant.

She hoped he wasn't lying. Leaving him behind just to learn this was all a masquerade would be much, much worse. It'd crush her; the idea of not being enough to sway him when he needed her most.

Selene took a step back, and Dorcas grasped the opportunity to grip her by the arm. Her sister pulled her toward the exit, forcing Selene to glimpse over her shoulder at him.

Regulus put the mask on his face, his lips muttering a silent apology.

I'm sorry.

She never got the chance to forgive him.

Because Selene never saw Regulus Black again.

A bright white light harassed her the moment she woke up. But the blinding neon lights were nothing compared to the throbbing headache that slammed into her as soon as her eyes opened and she noted the hospital room she laid in. Instruments beeped, chariots rolling in the hallway as Selene grabbed her bed, wishing for the thin pillow under her head to swallow her and muffle all sounds and lights from existence.

"Jesus," she whined.

Loud conversations in the crowded four-people room faded. Three people let themselves fall on her bed, Remus and Lily on one side, Sirius longing on her left like this entire bed belonged to him.

"Little Meadowes! You're awake!"

A nurse rushed to her, palpating her head. She gave her a dose of a thick purple potion that eased the migraine a bit. Thanks Merlin.

"Ugh, stop screaming, Sirius. What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Remus asked. "Dorcas can't remember anything."

On the bed beside hers, her sister listened to the conversation in silence. A bag of saline connected to her veins, but other than the circles under her eyes and the additional weight she'd lost, she seemed alright.

If not a little lost.

Around her, however, her friends adorned various states of injuries. Lily's hands were wrapped in thick white strips of fabric, and Remus' lip still bled. Sirius adorned a severe gash across his eyebrow, but other than that, he seemed perfectly fine. On another bed, Moody was being examined by another nurse.

They all came for them. Despite what they had said, they all did. But not as an Order detachment, Selene realized. By themselves.

"Nothing at all," Selene lied.

"We found you escaping from the back door." Lily explained. "You were almost outside when the explosion happened."

Her last memory was Regulus putting on his mask, preparing for the fight. Her chest constricted with fear, with loss. Had he obliviated her too when her back was turned? But she remembered her conversation with Voldemort, the tingling in her fingers under the Imperius curse, the bitterness of their kiss.

"What explosion?"

Sirius scoffed. "An idiot Death Eater knew he couldn't duel Moody by himself, so he made the living room explode instead."

Something in her chest started racing.

At least her heart was still there; she thought she'd left it in the manor.

"Anyone else got hurt?"

"Nothing Lils or Pete couldn't heal. We're all fine, really. You hit your head quite hard, but the nurse says after a night or two you'll be able to go home."

"What about them?" She hoped no one heard the dread in her voice. Remus certainly did, because he squeezed her hand in reassurance. Lily narrowed her eyes, but remained silent. If she knew about Regulus and her, she kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, we won," Sirius confirmed with a charming grin. "Got them all scurrying away to their master in Wiltshire. Prongs and Wormy are over there now, checking their numbers."

"BLACK!" Moody barked from his bed, now that the nurse had left him be. "No wonder everyone knows about the Order if you keep shouting about it on the rooftops."

He winced. "Sorry. I figured that after that rescue mission, she'd want to join. How's that nose looking, by the way?"

Moody's face was covered by a thick bandage that barely left room for his eyes and mouth. He grunted a self-explanatory sound. Selene had never seen someone so unbothered by the thought of being permanently disfigured.

"Bloody idiot, that Rosier boy. Made himself explode with his own spell. Almost got me, though."

The constant buzzing sound of the neon lights above them flickered.

Selene stared at the ceiling. She found herself in every single one of these brittle neon lights. Shutting down. Down. Down. The room plunged into darkness. The corridor. The entire floor.

A cloud formed into the air as she exhaled and Remus let go of her icy hand. Not dark enough. Not cold enough. She'd freeze this entire bloody town—even stop time from running its course—if it meant she could live another minute in a world with Evan still in it.

Evan, with his wide, contagious grin and witty humour that transcended Hogwarts' houses.

Evan, and the selfless help he never hesitated to offer to his friends, especially when they didn't feel like they deserved it.

Evan, who felt like sacrificing his life at 18 years old, was the only solution to prevent other people from getting hunted, tortured, and killed.

It wasn't fucking fair.

And Evan was fucking dead.

A hand waved in front of her face. "Little Meadowes?"

She blinked, looking away from Sirius.

"I'm tired."

Of the war. Of the greed and the false hope and the betrayals. Of the means that always justified the ends, no matter how heartless. Of the way the decent folks always disappeared first, their family name a legacy traced in ashes and blood.

Of Voldemort. Of Dumbledore.

Of this damn, long, bloody day.

"We'll let you sleep. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

Selene didn't reply; she was weeping before Remus finished drawing the curtain around her bed.

Stop trying to keep us alive
You can't force the stars to align when they've already died

Five days later, Selene sent a bouquet of white roses to the West Northwood Cemetery in London. Dorcas had to tie her up to her bedframe to prevent her from going to the funeral. Remus was called-in as backup. He explained people would be looking for her there, that she'd be in danger of being recognized by Death Eaters. Aisha attended the funeral in her stead. Remus stayed until nightfall to mourn Evan with her.

Two months later, Crouch tried to kill her. He found her alone in the Astronomy tower, longing at Leo's constellation, Regulus' namesake a world away from hers. He cried as she wept, her back to the railing, a bright green light at the tip of his wand. Evan was dead because of her. She didn't need Crouch's reminder and the threat of murder to realize it. She'd never forgive herself for it. In the end, he lowered his wand, but the hate irradiating from him remained the most visceral reaction she had ever instigated in someone. She wished him well. He told her to jump.

She thought about it.

For years after that, Selene remained the only person outside of Voldemort's army who knew Barty Crouch Jr., a prominent figure at the Ministry just like his father, was actually a Death Eater. She never betrayed Crouch, for it felt like betraying him.

Him, whom never returned at Hogwarts. Who climbed and climbed and climbed the ladder of Voldemort's ambition, only to lose his footing near the very top.

Regulus was declared dead on a regular Wednesday morning. The kind of morning one may forget, foggy and humid and perfectly unremarkable, save for the owls bearing letters flying to her apartment windows. But Selene had known. She'd known weeks before seeing it in the paper. Because one night she had awoken gasping, and she hadn't been able to breathe properly ever since. Air was never enough, suffocating more than replenishing. And every night, she drowned and drowned again until her survival instincts kicked in to bring oxygen to her lungs right before passing out. Remus didn't bother chaining her to her bed for the funeral this time; he had his own Black to take care of.

The casket was empty.

A year later, Dorcas was murdered by Voldemort. By that dreadful day, she had faced the Dark Lord thrice, each time barely escaping his scourge. She grew wilder. Reckless. Moody commanded her to be more careful. She didn't listen, living for the thrill of the chase. When Voldemort came face to face with her a fourth time, he didn't take any chances. The killing curse hit her straight in the chest before she'd done anything more than spat at his feet. Gone in a whisk of wind, smirk on her lips, heels in the dirt.

Selene barely cried. She had been grieving Dorcas for years.

Then James and Lily died. And the little chubby Harry became a cursed celebrity overnight.

When the Order of the Phoenix reconvened fifteen years later, Dumbledore sought her out. Selene wondered where he had gotten the nerves to ask for her support after failing to protect everyone she cared for, but to his credit, he didn't insist when she shut the door in his face. She didn't go to his funeral.

She was done with the war. But it seemed like the war wasn't done with her.

Selene hadn't thought of Regulus in years when the half-bashful, half-mocking smile of his caught her eyes from the Daily Prophet's first page. Her cup of tea shattered on the ceramic flooring of her seaside home. Regulus Black: pardoned posthumously.

Somehow, her letter made it through the swarm of admirers, and Selene was able to have a meeting with Harry Potter. He recounted what he'd learnt from Regulus' house-elf, about how he tried to destroy Voldemort from within his ranks. That he must have been working on destroying horcruxes for months, that perhaps even before being marked he had already planned Voldemort's demise.

Her heart faltered. For a flying moment, she thought it wouldn't start again.

Selene wished she had never learned about the cave. For weeks, she had drowned with him, each night learning how to breathe again while he laid at the bottom of a cold dark lake, dead but not as dead, alive but not alive either. Caught between limbos, an inferius curse, a whirlwind of suffering for someone who never allowed emotions to best him.

Harry told her he went back to the cave months ago to check if he hadn't missed anything. Apparently, he had revisited every single location of Voldemort's horcruxes to ensure they were really gone. At the cave, the inferi had become mere unanimated bodies following Voldemort's death. He had buried them all inland, far away from the sea and the cold.

She held his hand and squeezed. Despite all his demons, the ones coursings through his head, the ones tattooed on his skin, Regulus had finally found peace.

Perhaps she'd find it too, now.

Harry invited her to his house, which conveniently happened to be the Black's family home. Showed her the Slytherin's room. Together, they went through a stack of personal effects and papers, old parchments, class notes. Stuff he hadn't had the heart to throw away, hoping someone might one day claim it. Selene ruffled through pages and pages of his too short life, seeking clues she had missed. In a blink, she found herself back to Hogwarts when these notes were taken during classes they attended together. Sometimes, she'd find an obscene drawing on the corner of a page, an obvious product of Evan's imagination.

She laughed, but it came out closer to a sob.

James and Lily's son clicked the door shut behind him, leaving her with the sole company of her memories. Selene sat on the ground for hours, abusing of Potter's hospitality. He never once asked her to leave.

Her heart stopped again when she found the torn page of her notebook stuck into his potion manual.

All this because I asked you a very legitimate question? SM.

Despite whatever misunderstanding there might be, I'm keeping my distance for my own sanity. Your question had nothing to do with it, other than the fact it was a much-needed reality check.

I apologize on behalf of Evan for not respecting your privacy. I would have told him the truth, but he would never have believed me. RAB.

After all these years, it still felt like yesterday that Evan Rosier had dropped on the chair beside her at the library, hoping to solve his friend's heartache. She could still see Regulus roll his eyes from his seat in the library's mezzanine. Her fingers traced the green ink that formed the elegant letters of his signature.

She wished she hadn't been so stubborn, then. Let him in a little earlier. Left a little later. What's the worse that could have happened if she had dared crush her pride under her feet? If she had jumped?

They would have had more time.

Damn you Regulus Black, she thought, surprised to still have tears in tow for this man after a lifetime spent trying to heal.

I knew I could sway you.

We've travelled the seas, we've ridden the stars

We've seen everything from Saturn to Mars

As much as it seems like you own my heart,

It's astronomy, we're two worlds apart

Hi everyone,

Thank you for accompanying me during this journey. This story turned out darker than expected, but I tried to stay true to how I perceive these characters in my mind. Hopefully, you'll find the ending as healing as I did.

I'm grateful for all your kind words and messages, and I hope to hear from you again very soon.

Cheers,

The Jolly Bard xxx