I'm back on my bullshit y'all!

I apologize for the wait, but I had to prioritize some other things and there was no time to devote to this. Be assured, if you're one of the people that wanna see the end of this (for some reason?) it will happen. Most of the chapters are already outlined and the updates will become more frequent again.

Also, just as a reminder, this story is also available on AO3, which is the "definitive" version of this story, because I can do some cool things with the formatting that I think add a little bit of flavor.

Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me!

Chapter 29 - Darling, close your weary eyes, everything will be fine (Let the breeze wipe away your tears, there is no need to cry)

"People die, there's no stopping that," His whisper sounded hollow, his chest felt empty. "So I wanted them to at least have a proper death."

"But…" His voice wavered as the numbness surrounding him vanished, the painful beating of his cursed heart returning. He gripped the metal railing hard enough to bend it.

"What even is a proper death?"

.

…

…..

...

"Nathan…"

"Can you tell me a story?"

It was no violent jolt that awoke him from his slumber, but the tearing pain in his chest that made Nathan sit up. The tears that threatened to drown him didn't stop, no matter how much he rubbed at his eyes as he went to the bathroom.

The water felt different on his face, like it was trying to enter his skin through holes that didn't exist. His reflection showed a row of sharp teeth by his cheek, grinning maliciously at him. His heart seized, like a hand trying to crush it, before he blinked, and the mouth was gone.

The familiar little girl was by his side instead, soft brown hair held back by a familiar strip of cloth. She smiled tiredly at him.

A blink and she was gone too.

Nathan sighed, wiping one last tear away and stepping out of the bathroom.

Nathan walked through the empty halls of the castle, Hermione's scarf around his neck and her hand in his. Even now, as they went to use the floo to reach Grimmauld Place, he could see from the corner of his vision the bags under her eyes. No amount of knitting sessions had been able to distract her, but she had still indulged him.

Her cold fingers caressed his hand softly, freezing for a moment every time she felt one of the scarred bumps that marred his skin. Nathan's stomach tightened the more it happened, a sickening mix of feelings roiling in his gut, promising to eject the food he hadn't consumed that morning.

"How did I miss it all this time?" Hermione whispered to herself, but not softly enough he couldn't hear the tears in her voice.

"Maybe it's because I didn't want you to see it…" Nathan tried to make it sound like a joke, but the grimace he hid by looking away ruined it.

Maybe it's because someThing didn't want you to see it, he thought to himself, shuddering and holding back the urge to scratch his arm.

Someone bumped into Nathan, breaking his train of thought as he flinched away. His bloodshot eyes turned to face—

rrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—

Static flared to life around him as Nathan raised his free arm to hold his head. His vision was blurry, obscured by the noise, but what he could make of the person was only a big shape. Taller and longer than a human had any right to be.

"Professor Firenze, we apologize for bumping into you!" Hermione said from beside Nathan, breaking through the ringing in his ears.

"Do not worry child, continue on with your day." The person spoke with perfect stillness, betraying no emotion.

The noise slowly lessened until he could see a weird mix of a man and horse—Centaur, the voices whispered—Glaring at him with equal amounts of fear and disgust, before he turned and trotted away, taking the ringing with him.

Nathan watched him go with complete bewilderment, lowering his arm as his headache slowly went away.

"What is it? Nathan!?" Hermione took over his sight, her eyes bouncing around his body to find where it was faltering.

"I'm fine," He shook his head, squeezing her hand gently, smiling as convincingly as he could, "I promise." he tugged on her arm gently so they could start walking again. Her eyes burned holes in the side of his head, but he had no energy to address it. Not with the long day he knew he would have ahead of him.

They reached their teacher's office, the woman greeting Hermione with as much warmth as she could allow herself, handing the girl the floo powder.

Her eyes almost flew past Nathan as she nodded at him. Not even a hint of emotion regarding the incident in Dumbledore's office.

With a shaky hand he grabbed a handful of the ashes without looking at the woman, throwing it all into the ground as he spoke the address as fast as he could.

Cold green flames instantly enveloped him, lasting only a moment before they turned blue and inviting. One of his hands went to touch the warmth, only for the fire to part like the curtains of a window; A kaleidoscope of images reflected on the glass that was revealed.

He saw a Kid and a Key. A Teen and a Fire. A Man and a Crystal.

He saw War. He saw Legacies. He saw Flowers.

He saw lost souls wandering through ash. He saw the aegean sky crack and shatter like a mirror. He saw a little girl, lost and alone, clinging to him with all she had left.

It all vanished in an instant, turning all back to green and then to the reality of Nathan sprawled out on the floor. Hermione and Sirius were there in an instant to haul his aching body back to its feet.

The owner of the house patted away the soot from Nathan's shoulders playfully. "I thought only Harry was this bad with the floo!" He joked, a small amused smile on his face.

In spite of himself, Nathan snorted, his eyes narrowing to glare at the man. "This wouldn't be a pro—Oof!"

He was interrupted by an abrupt hug from Sirius. "It's good to see you again kid!" He exclaimed, patting Nathan on the back.

"Uh, yeah," Nathan stuttered as Sirius let him go, the convict looking at him with genuine happiness despite the situation. Happiness and recognition. Nathan used all his strength to hold back the tears that suddenly blurred his vision. "Good to be back."

Another professor, Remus if he remembered correctly, was there to also greet him. The lack of remembrance in his eyes dampened his smile, but did nothing to smother hopeful sparks that burned in Nathan's chest.

"Where's Harry?"

"Upstairs," Sirius said morosely, hard eyes now looking differently and Nathan, seeming to notice something amiss. "Haven't had much success in getting him out of his funk."

"Don't worry about it." Nathan muttered with a frown, looking at Hermione. I'll handle it, he tried to tell her through his eyes. She stared back, with the same look that was appearing on Sirius' face.

Nathan abruptly turned away from them, rushing to the stairs. Distantly, as if in another room, he heard the sound of glass breaking, just like he had heard a few days past. He forced himself to go two steps at a time, in spite of his protesting legs.

He reached the last floor and went straight to the door the stood farther from the others. Harry was sat on the dirty ground, ruffling Buckbeak's feather's. Neither the animal nor the boy stirred as Nathan approached, petting the creature. The hippogriff acted just as strangely as every other time, not caring that Nathan hadn't bowed, allowing him to continue his ministrations as the animal relaxed even more.

"How you holdin' up?" Nathan asked quietly, even if he already knew the answer.

"Fine." Harry answered morosely, eyes far away as his hands scratched Buckbeak's feathers.

"Sure." Nathan huffed, but said nothing else, finding himself entirely too hesitant at the moment.

The parallels between them both became clearer and clearer, and the more he saw the more he anguished over it. Acknowledging the terrors that afflicted one of them would be acknowledging it for both. Harry wasn't aware of the reflections they were becoming, and Nathan was unsure if being blind to it would stop them from feeling the cracks in the mirror cut their skin.

"Any more nightmares?" The words escaped from Nathan, voice trembling with anxiety.

"No." A lie.

Nathan said nothing else.

What could he say, when he found no reprieve from his own nightly terrors? When the nightmares felt real enough—they're real—to invade his moments of wakefulness, leaving him doubting the ashes of his sanity that he couldn't stop from escaping through his fingers?

There was nothing to say.

So Nathan sat in silence, one hand trembling as it carded through soft feathers, the other itching and burning, eyes getting blurrier and blurrier.

Weight on his arm startled him, his head turning to a sagging Harry that had fallen sideways, putting all of his weight on Nathan. From this position the bags under his eyes were impossible to miss on his pale face.

He felt his heart break.

"Thank you…"

"Thank you…"

Nathan turned his head away, from Harry and away from the ghost. A single tear fell from his eye as he hugged Harry with one arm. "Don't mention it."

He hated the hospital.

Hated how it reminded him of Pomphrey. Hated how it smelled familiar even though he couldn't remember if had ever been to one before.

Hated the flashes of images flickered through the static.

Nathan forced himself to focus on the group he was accompanying; A family he was in no way close to, visiting a man he knew nothing about. It all made him feel worse. He barely paid attention to the noise buzzing around him.

They entered a small private room, the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione immediately going to the banged up, but awake, occupant of the bed. Nathan stayed by the door.

He watched the man merrily talk to the people around him, clearly trying to show his family how well he was, and in spite of his appearance, Nathan doubted he'd ever looked that alive. He slipped out of the suddenly stifling room after just a few minutes inside.

No one stopped him from wandering the halls of the building, peering into open rooms with disinterest, sharply looking away when they were occupied by suffering men and women. The static around him kept building.

A young man suddenly appeared, throwing a door open. Nathan jumped away from him, ears ringing and heart beating erratically from the fright. The man kept talking about autographs and something else, but Nathan's focus was hijacked by the rest of the room.

Dozens of ghosts lingered inside, all looking at him. All smiling at him. His eyes were dragged to a boy sitting by a bed in the corner. Nathan started moving before he could process it, crossing the threshold of the door, his feet feeling the shifting sand beneath—

rrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG—

"Thank you, mum." Neville whispered as he accepted the offered candy wrap, eyes burning as the woman smiled crookedly at a point beyond his shoulder.

He watched her slowly fall asleep, becoming as still as the comatose patients in the graveyard for the living that was the 'spell damage' ward.

Not for the first time Neville wondered if he should take them out of their misery, grant them the mercy that was denied to them. He could never consider it for more than a second, too terrified of giving up hope, too ashamed of feeling tired of watching them suffer.

The stillness of a lack of choice comforted him like his parents never would.

Neville tensed as a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He forced himself to relax before turning to the nurse that came to tell him visiting hours were over.

Nate was standing there, face transformed into something almost unrecognizable. Neville felt dread and anger and misery fill his being, his body tensing even more as he lowered his face.

A squeeze to his shoulder brought his gaze reluctantly back to his friend, and Neville felt all the air leave his lungs at once.

His eyes glowed green and blue with an intensity that couldn't be mistaken by a trick of the light. His smile was soft and his whole being suddenly exuded comfort. Sorrow, the thought flitted through Neville's mind, it's sorrow.

The man's eyes turned to the still body of his parents, tears in his eyes reflecting the glow like a stormy ocean, smile turning brittle.

Neville was utterly confused, as he had never seen Nate come even close to being in such a state. Why would he be so emotional? Why would he be so moved?

Nate turned back to Neville, ethereal eyes open and unguarded in a way the boy had never seen. Not even when he had spilled his guts about his nightmares and seeing ghosts—

.

…

…..

Oh, Neville thought, feeling his mind going numb.

The exhaustion. The fear. The regret.

Just like he could see in his own face, reflected in the man's gaze.

Neville's body froze in shock as Nathan brought his hand from his shoulder to his head, gently, so gently, caressing his hair. The action so familial it instantly made his eyes swim with tears.

He couldn't breathe, not even blink, as the air over his friend's shoulders shimmered and shifted, slowly morphing into something human. Small motes of sand flew inside their forms until they finally solidified.

And Neville finally understood what Nathan had meant with 'seeing visions'.

It was his parents. His mom and dad. Whole and unbroken.

And smiling at him with lucidity.

….

Neville broke.

Heavy cries ripped through his chest as he hunched over. For the first time in a long while he allowed himself to cry over what was stolen from him. All the while his Nathan held him in his arms.

As his sobs wracked through his whole body, Neville had an epiphany.

No matter how much time passed or how he forced himself to move on, a part of him would always anguish over the hole created by the absence of his parents.

But maybe he would be okay with people like Nathan by his side.

I wonder if this is how it would feel to be held by them. Neville wondered as he burrowed deeper into his friend's steady embrace.

Cold and warm hands from the ghosts of his loved ones joined the hug, and Neville cried even harder.

Nathan sat together with Neville in the silence surrounding them, one recovering from the sadness with quiet sniffles, the other still in a catatonic state from having his soul open up into a chasm where pieces of glass coalesced to become something else, but still undeniably Him.

Having to look at the two husks of human beings occupying the beds wasn't helping in any regard. It was like seeing the finish line to a journey was the cemetery with the hole in the ground already waiting for your arrival, and all you could do was wonder how much longer it would take to reach it.

"Does it ever get better?" A multitude spoke suddenly, breaking through the daze holding him. It was Neville asking, but also his own voice coming through the ghosts. The static in the room shifted as the specters gained more tangibility. Nathan averted his eyes, right hand scratching his burning skin.

"I don't know…" His tremulous voice echoed softly in the still air, aimless as to whom he had answered.

"Does it get easier?" They asked once more, less Neville and more Himself.

"I don't know…"

The static in the room shifted as the specters gained more tangibility. Nathan averted his eyes to the ground, right hand scratching his burning skin. He could see the feet of the spirits, all distinct from one another and looking as real as they had ever been. He forced his eyes shut, but not before his mind instantly recognized each and everyone.

The dirty boots of the woman that forced him to pick flowers and told him to not fall in love with her.

The sneakers the best friend that never gave up on him as he slowly lost himself to the monster he was becoming

The armored feet of the brother he had almost traded away for the return of their mother.

"I just want it to stop…" They begged softly, no Neville and no ghosts. Just his own voice echoing back at him.

Nathan froze with his nails dug into his skin, blood falling in rivulets to the ground along with his tears. "I can't—" He choked out miserably as he bent over, eyes forced open wide by the memories blurring through his closed eyelids. "I can't—".

Then Neville was there, face twisted with worry as he tried to pick up the pieces of his broken friend with a hug, just like Nathan had done for him earlier.

Nathan babbled incessantly instead of crying harder, choking pleas of I'm sorry! I'm sorry! and Please, forgive me! Please, please, please, please… escaping in incoherent strings that only served to make Neville more worried. The boy had no idea the situation was this bad.

A long moment passed before Nathan had the courage to open his eyes again, facing the ghosts for the first time in the evening. Part of him expected pity, maybe even disdain from some of them.

But all the ghosts gazed softly upon him, some with smiles and others wearing grins like they always had when they were together—

Something lurched within Nathan, fragments of his soul that had joined and then separated earlier doing so once more, but fewer this time, and staying together.

The world shifted. A weight lightened.

It 's okay.

One by one the spirits vanished, taking the static with them. They left behind a tormented Nathan, mumbling their words with religious fervor into Neville's shoulder, trying to force himself to believe them.

Nathan stepped out of the room with Neville, both thoroughly drained of all energy and fresh out of tears. Nathan didn't even want to think about the questioning of his whereabouts that would surely happen. His puffy and red eyes would only make matters worse.

Luckily, there would be no time to think about it, as Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Ron appeared from a corner at that moment, their gazes instantly flying to him.

"Nate!" Harry exclaimed, louder than he probably should have in a hospital. "Where've you been? We looked everywhere for you!"

"Sorry," Nathan lied, eyes to the ground. "Slipped out to go to the bathroom, and started exploring the place. Found Neville and stayed with him."

Hermione opened her mouth, clearly finding fault with his explanation. She seemed to think better of it as she closed her lips. "Hello, Neville." Her gaze kept jumping from Neville to Nathan. "Is everything… Alright?"

"Yes, don't worry." Neville stood tall and relaxed by his side as he turned to the Weasley's present. Like the weight that made him constantly slouch was gone. "I hope your father has a speedy recovery."

"Thank you…" Ginny said in a subdued manner. Ron nodded his gratitude from beside her.

"It's time to go." Harry interjected after silently scrutinizing Nathan for the past minute. The man in question still had his gaze averted.

"Right." Nathan turned to Neville, patting the taller boy on the back. "Merry Christmas, Neville."

"Merry Christmas, Nate." Neville's smile was brittle and his eyes were full of gratitude, and god dammit, if there weren't a few tears left to burn Nathan's eyes.

The group separated after their goodbyes, Nathan following the teenagers back to the floo, the halls entirely absent of spirits and floating ashes. He almost didn't notice when Hermione grabbed the hand that had been scratching at his marred skin on its own.

Nathan hardly remembered the green—blue—flames of the journey back to the house, and he certainly didn't remember going up to his room.

All he remembered were the ghosts reappearing with smiles on their faces moments before he passed out on his bed.