He didn't remember how long they had been in air.

The wind was constantly whipping Harry's face and that was what kept him constantly awake and ready to not let go of his godfather. Clinging behind him with even more force was his dear friend Hermione.

Despite the wind, the incessant crashing of the waves and the terror of falling into those freezing waters at any moment, Harry was happy.

Not only because he loved flying, soaring free among the clouds but above all thanks to the awareness that he would never have to go back there again .

He was with someone he could finally consider his true family. It was a happiness, that he swore to himself, he would never let anyone take it away from him.

"Thoughtful, huh?" His godfather commented, looking even more elated than him.

"A little..." Harry admitted awkwardly.

"And you, young lady? How are you doing?"

Harry bit his tongue, holding back a groan of pain as Hermione's nails dug into his ribs at the question.

"N-not so good..." she admitted, closing her eyes and burying her head in Harry's back.

"Don't worry, we're almost there...There it is, over there!"

It was early in the morning, the sun was caressing the crystalline water with its rays, making it brighter than ever. Alone in the middle of the ocean, there was a small and tiny island surrounded by rocks, reefs and white sand. What struck was the sight of the only building present.

An abandoned mansion loomed against the horizon, an imposing stone silhouette.

Built against a majestic rock face, its white stone and seaweed structure blended harmoniously with its surroundings, creating an atmosphere of decadent beauty.

The facade of the mansion was embellished with sculptures of hideous and menacing Gargoyles and heads of human skeletons adorned the doors and windows, now worn away by time and humidity.

The once-gleaming arched windows were now dulled by the wear of the years and a thick blanket of dust. The wooden shutters, partly broken, hung, creaking ominously at the touch of the wind. It seemed like a relic from a lost age, wrapped in its own aura of mystery, a place where beauty and melancholy had merged.

It was a breathtaking sight.

"The Black family's summer residence, Marea Mansion!" Sirius commented, his warm, enveloping voice breaking the silence of the flight.

Buckbeak landed softly on the fine sand, gasping, and Hermione could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"THANK GOD, IT'S OVER!"

She screamed, collapsing exhausted on the beach, getting sand all over her.

Buckbeak imitated the girl's theatrical gesture, earning some extra cuddles from the ex-convict.

"I think you really like flying, do you?" Harry teased playfully.

Hermione gave him a glare that was worth a thousand arguments, as was the slight smile she gave him afterwards.

He offered her a hand to stand up and she accepted without hesitation. It was a strange sensation, taking it he had never realized that her hand had always been so small and warm.

That thought lasted a moment, before the girl shook the sand off her clothes and hair, casually throwing a good bit of it at him.

Sirius approached the two of them, hopping like a cricket, a wide-eyed grin plastered on his face.

"Welcome to the Caribbean!" he announced, raising his arms to the sky.

"AWAY FROM THAT SHITTY COUNTRY!" He added shouting, making the delicate and refined gesture of the middle finger.

"Have we travelled that far?!" Hermione asked, slightly shocked.

"Hippogriffs are very fast flying creatures! The only creatures that could keep up with them are Santa's reindeer!" Sirius explained good-naturedly, confusing both of them even more.

"Quick, follow me!"


Sirius Black triumphantly threw open the door, which creaked in a way that sounded like a wail.

The man gestured with his hand, inviting them to venture inside.

The walls were adorned with faded portraits of stern ancestors, who followed and sternly judged the trio as they entered.

"Home sweet home!" said Sirius wistfully. "Or what's left of it."

Harry looked carefully at the rooms. Every sinister object, every dusty piece of sumptuous furniture seemed to tell of a tumultuous past of the Black family. He thought a little bitterly that this was how he imagined the house where Draco Malfoy and his father Lucius lived.

He studied a tribally decorated skeletal head reminiscent of voodoo rituals sitting on a black bedside table and Hermione could swear that thing had just winked at her.

"Your family was..."

Sirius snorted.

"My family was the exact opposite of what I am. They were obsessed with their supposed pure-blood superiority, with old, antiquated wizarding traditions, with black magic..." he smirked at the pun.

"That's what led to them being like this mansion..." He slapped the skeletal head with barely disguised nonchalance, sending it rolling to the floor. "Decayed." As sad as he was, Harry was slightly heartened to find that he wasn't the only one with a problematic relationship with his 'relatives'...

While the boy was lost in thought, Hermione slowly approached an oversized bookcase, overflowing with dusty volumes. "Sirius, there are so many books in here!" she said, her curiosity piquing.

"Oh well, you haven't seen the ones upstairs in Bella's collection yet." Sirius laughed, this time sounding even colder and darker. "Though I'm afraid some of these books aren't very…'appropriate'." Sirius added, raising an eyebrow, noticing the book Hermione had pulled out with some apprehension.

He snatched it from her hand and put it back in its place.

"No reading today, you need rest...and so do I, damn it!"

His face broke into a mischievous smile. "But first, there's something I need to do..." Rubbing his hands together excitedly, with a sudden energy and determination he strode off toward what the two would later discover was the kitchen.

"Where did that old walrus hide it?!" They heard their godfather cursing someone as pots and pans clanked together in the background. "AH-HA!"

They heard a rustling sound and shortly after, the man returned with a knowing smile on his face and a dusty bottle of firewhisky in his hands.

"I thought it was time to heat things up a bit!" he said elatedly, popping the cork with his sharp teeth. He spat it onto the floor where it landed next to the voodoo head and began gulping down the bottle voraciously.

"Would you like to join me?" he asked the two, a trickle of the dark liquor running down his dry lips, staining his dark, unkempt beard.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an uncertain look.

"Um...I think we're going to rest."

The man nodded, taking another sip.

"You need a good wash and above all some sleep, then we'll think about the rest . Go up the stairs, on the second floor there are the bathrooms and the bedrooms. I..." he stared with burning passion at the bottle he had in his hands.

"...I'll catch up with you later. Merlin's beard, you don't know how much I've missed you!" He kissed the glass bottle, before taking another swig...


Marea Mansion exuded a surreal silence, broken only by the whisper of the waves lapping on the beach nearby.

Every room seemed to hold dark and forgotten secrets, and the second floor, with wooden beams that creaked underfoot, had a particular charm that captured Harry and Hermione's attention. It was not the time to stop and explore, after a long day like that, the desire for a hot shower had become urgent. They both soon reached the small bathroom on the second floor, where the white tiles, although yellowed by time, reflected a soft and comforting light.

"Ladies first." Harry said, making an awkward attempt at a polite nod to Hermione, making her giggle.

Hermione was the first to shower. Steam wafted into the room, enveloping her like a warm hug.

Harry meanwhile had entered an old-fashioned room, with two separate beds on either side. What struck him was that the room, unlike others, seemed to have been cleaned recently as it did not live in dust and chaos like the others. Even the sheets on the beds seemed to be clean and neat, as if time had never scratched them.

He opened the closets and nightstands, looking for pajamas to wear that night. He noticed with fortuitous coincidence that they contained both men's and women's clothing. A little dated, sure, some of them looking like they came out of a nineteenth-century book, but he couldn't deny their beauty.

In the middle of one of the drawers, he found a faded photo hidden. It was a magical photo and the subjects depicted moved slightly.

In the center were two boys. One of them was tall, with long, unruly black hair blowing in the wind and a sneering smile that would have won over any witch around.

His eyes were so grey and deep that Harry guessed that the boy was Sirius when he was young. To his left was a smaller boy, with a slim build, his long black hair was combed and cared for with great care. He had a serious look, betrayed by a smile for the antics of the boy next to him. he looked incredibly like Sirius.

"Maybe he's a relative..." Harry mused, continuing to study that photo.

The two boys were surrounded by three wonderful girls, of an ethereal, indescribable beauty.

Behind the two boys, there was a tall girl with beautiful gray eyes and long, straight, platinum blonde hair, almost white. She had a small mole under her right eye, porcelain-white skin, and a serious, elegant bearing.

Another, with short, straight brown hair and almost as tall as Sirius, stood next to the lean boy. She was serious and composed, but unlike the blonde girl, her thin smile radiated a sweetness that warmed the heart.

The last one, hung bouncing near the arm of his young godfather. She had a dazzling smile and her dark eyes sparkled with joy from every pore and were directed only at the young man beside her. She had the smallest and petite physique of all of them and her unruly, puffy and curly black hair like a crow's feather fell behind her back like a majestic mane.

Her beauty was reminiscent of Hermione. There were obvious differences, the girl in the photo had a white, almost cadaverous complexion, while his friend...

He stopped dead in his tracks. How long had he been thinking about these details about Hermione? Well, there was no denying that she had beautiful skin, that wasn't such a bad thought to have... The sound of the door opening made him jump.

Hermione, wrapped in a pink bathrobe, emerged like an apparition. Her unruly hair, still wet, framed her face in a way that made her appear almost as ethereal as the girls in that photo.

For a moment Harry stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a silent fish.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Hermione said, noticing his doting look. They laughed together, the moment broken by a cadence of complicity that struck between them, an understanding that went beyond words.

"Y-yeah...uhm...er...bathroom!" He put the photo in the drawer and, grabbing one of the pajamas he had found, ran away with his eyes down.


After closing the door behind him, he let the water pour over him, a warm, benevolent embrace that melted away the day's fatigue. His mind was flooded with thoughts and a part of him was still restless.

He still couldn't believe what had happened so far...

The revelation of the truth behind his parents' death, the triumphant face of Peter Pettigrew, the transformation of his DADA teacher into a ferocious and uncontrollable Werewolf, the terrifying horde of Dementors, the time-turner, the last-second rescue...

Those memories, still so vivid and intense, flowed like the water that bathed his thin body.

He feared that this moment of escape from the sad reality would be torn away from him at any moment.

He thought of that nostalgic photo and the tiny writing above it...

A particularly strong jet of water brought him back to reality. Was he sleeping while he was taking a shower? He decided to hurry.

When he finally came out, the air in the bathroom was humid and enveloping. He dried himself as quickly as possible and put on those light silk pajamas that were a few sizes too big for him.

...

Back in his room, he found his friend wearing a white strapless top and long white baggy pants. Her curly hair was as wild and messy as ever.

He had closed the shutters so that the morning light would not enter the room.

"Well, goodnight, Harry." said an exhausted Hermione, settling into the right-hand bed, a fond smile on her lips.

"Good night, Hermione." he replied, trying to ignore the strange sensation of feeling her so close yet so distant at the same time.

Harry turned in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling, thoughts continuing to plague his mind.

"...Hermione?" he called to her friend as she was about to fall asleep.

"Mmh?" the other muttered, barely staying awake.

"Thank you...thank you for everything. If it weren't for you, Sirius..."

"Harry." She interrupts him apprehensively. "Sleep..."

Soon they both fell asleep and Harry forgot the feeling of despair he had had thinking about that writing ...

... 'And Nothing is forever' ...

...

..


AN: A more substantial chapter than the previous ones. I didn't want to write about Grimmauld Place but it was impossible not to mention Sirius' troubled relationship with the Black family. So I thought of a summer mansion, Marea Mansion ('Marea' means tide in italian). The Blacks were one of the most powerful and rich families in the wizarding world, it's normal that they have at least one! A little time in the Caribbean is what our heroes deserve before the imminent danger. As Sirius said, "we'll think about the rest later"! That's what I often tell myself before the tide of problems overwhelms me, i hope the same doesn't happen to them!