Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Original covers by @ancoris_art

LXIX

SPACE INVADERS SCORE

SOB — 195,448

DFL — 153,560

RSB — 130,934

JFP — 127,563

BVC — 120,974

That Saturday in early August 1993 was unusually lively at the arcade in the shopping centre. Not only were parents taking the chance to let their kids run wild on the machines, but there were also rumours swirling that the infamous RSB was about to beat DFL’s record on Space Invaders.

That arcade cabinet was a proper classic—it had been there for over eighteen years and had kept score the entire time. No one had ever managed to beat the name at the very top of the leaderboard, some SOB who’d played religiously between ’79 and ’81 and then vanished without a trace. But everyone knew DFL—Danny, to those in the know—a bloke in his mid-twenties who’d become a bit of a local legend thanks to his band.

Every time the shop’s bell rang, all heads turned towards the entrance, hoping it was RSB. Even Joe, the lad behind the counter selling tokens, was nervous. He couldn’t quite remember who RSB was exactly—loads of people came and went, after all—so he figured he’d just wait for the crowd to make a fuss and help him spot the bloke... or maybe the bird.

Didn’t take long before he showed up. The bell rang for what felt like the thousandth time, and in walked a boy with a skateboard in one hand and a Walkman in the other. Every bit of chatter and laughter in the arcade died instantly, drowned out by the beeping and chimes of the machines. He was accompanied by a girl whose neck was so stacked with silver chains Joe’s eyes started to sting.

RSB slung the skateboard over his shoulder and clipped the Walkman to the waistband of his black jeans as he strolled up to the counter. He had jet-black hair, perfectly messy, with a fringe swept up and shaped by the arch of his headphones. His eyes were a deep grey flecked with blue, his nose lightly dusted with freckles. The faint stubble on his chin betrayed the fact he was still underage.

Even so, he was taller than Joe, and there was something a bit unnerving about being stared down by that lanky lad whose features oozed natural arrogance. He tugged the headphones down around his neck.

"One token for Space Invaders," he muttered, sighing like he was already bored.

"Just one token?" the girl frowned, leaning her elbows on the counter.

"Just one token," he confirmed, the corners of his lips twitching into a smug grin.

"We're selling a minimum of three tokens today..." Joe said, the coins in the till clinking as he opened the drawer.

"Three tokens, then." RSB twisted his mouth in distaste, slipping his hand into his jeans pocket. Joe noticed he was wearing fingerless leather gloves.

"That’ll be sixty pence," Joe said, watching RSB pull out the coins and count them slowly.

"Wouldn’t it be easier to just give him a quid and have him give you forty pence back?" the girl asked, bouncing one leg impatiently. She had a thick accent and was probably foreign.

"What for, if I’ve got exact change?!" He handed the money to Joe. "Want the other two tokens?"

"Get ready to lose at Street Fighter!" the girl snatched up the tokens and shoved them into the pocket of her shorts.

"I'm not planning on playing anything but Space Invaders today, Lua," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

As RSB turned and began his confident stride toward the Space Invaders machine, the sounds of the arcade seemed to dim. All eyes were on him. It was as though he were a bloody celebrity among the crowd of teens, and even a few of the older lads looked on with a hint of respect.

Lua let out a snobbish little laugh, her fingers playing with the chains around her neck as she leaned against the Star Wars pinball machine beside Space Invaders, shooing away the boys who’d been playing there.

RSB stopped in front of the cabinet and tossed a token into the air, catching it with a confident flick. A few girls sighed audibly. He set his skateboard on the floor and ran his index finger along the coin slot before inserting the token. The game fired up, and instantly a crowd began to gather behind him. It was as if nothing else in the arcade mattered—all eyes were locked on the screen in front of him.

As the aliens descended, he manoeuvred with almost instinctive skill. A little tic made him stretch his mouth every time he fired, predicting the invaders’ movements and taking them out column by column with precise, calculated strategy.

The score kept climbing, and the crowd’s excitement grew with every level he cleared. Now and then someone shouted encouragement, and excited whispers rippled through the group each time RSB pulled off a controversial or meticulous technique.

"Want some water?" Lua asked, arms crossed.

RSB, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the screen, simply shook his head in refusal. The white light from the aliens flashed in his grey eyes, turning them to platinum.

The first hour flew by. No one even noticed another person entering the arcade—a young woman with platinum blonde hair and clothes that looked like they belonged to the last century, which made Joe assume she was in costume or something. She wore sunglasses and craned her neck, scanning the crowd for her mates, weaving her way through until she reached RSB and Lua.

"You're late," he muttered sharply, not even glancing her way.

"I know, sorry, my brother took ages and—"

"You owe me for this one, Mims," RSB cut her off, oblivious to the dirty looks a few of the girls nearby shot her way.

"Come over here and stop bothering him, Mimi," Lua said, slinging an arm around Mimi’s neck and pulling her over to the pinball machine, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder.

The contrast between Lua and Mimi was stark. First, the hair—Lua’s was as black as Mimi’s was white. Then their skin—Lua’s was dark as chocolate, Mimi’s pale as porcelain. One thing they did share was their average height and build.

"Is he close to a hundred?!" Mimi asked quietly, eyes fixed on the screen.

Lua gave a proud little smirk.

"A hundred thousand," she corrected, weaving her fingers through the pale strands of her friend’s hair.

Mimi nodded, arms crossed, one leg bouncing incessantly. She wore a white blouse with a frilly collar and puffed sleeves, making her stand out a fair bit in the arcade—though everyone’s attention was firmly fixed on RSB.

"Yeah, I think I’ll get him some water..." Lua murmured, slipping away from Mimi and heading toward the snack bar to grab a bottle.

RSB was working the joystick and fire button feverishly, completely tuned out from the crowd behind him, moving as if by sheer muscle memory. Mimi let out a long sigh, biting the inside of her cheeks, one hand adjusting her glasses, the other resting against the pinball machine.

"What?" RSB pierced the silence, still staring dead ahead at the game.

Mimi opened and closed her mouth a few times before speaking.

"Did you read The Prophet today?" She tried to keep her voice even, but it was enough to make RSB glance away from the screen for a split second before locking his focus back in place.

"Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses in an arcade?" he shot back, his jaw tightening, sharp cheekbones flexing with the motion.

"I’ve got a headache," Mimi whispered, pretending to look over at Lua across the room.

RSB didn’t seem to care much about her excuse. Not until the score ticked over to 155,000 and a cheer rippled through the crowd. Lua hadn’t even made it back with the water yet when he shot his hand out like a viper, snatching Mimi’s sunglasses off in a flash.

She flinched, trying to hide the purple bruise blossoming on her eyelid, her eyes wide as she turned her face away in shame. RSB didn’t get the chance to say a word, though, as the crowd immediately surged around him, congratulating him as his score overtook DFL’s, landing him in second place on the all-time leaderboard. He couldn’t have cared less—clearly irritated by the scraps of parchment with phone numbers the girls handed him and the lads slapping his back.

RSB had to push his way through the crowd to finally reach Mimi. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was tearing up, nor did he need to say anything for her to go on the defensive.

"I fell!" she insisted, trying to snatch the sunglasses back from RSB. He was taller, and simply raised his hand, the grey of his eyes sharpening into twin daggers.

"You really think that lie’s going to work on me, Victoria?!" RSB hissed, his voice laced with hurt. "Which one of those little shits did this to you, huh?" He planted his hands on his hips.

"Seriously? I did everything I could to come see you today, and you—"

"Everything?! You showed up late!" RSB cut her off, voice raised and harsh. Victoria narrowed her eyes and took a step back. "Who did it?"

She let out a short, bitter laugh. There was nothing amused about it. The caramel of her eyes burned with rage.

"I knew I shouldn’t have come here..." Victoria spun on her heel, but couldn’t get far—Lua was standing in her way.

"What is it?" she asked, handing the bottle of water to RSB, eyeing her friend as she crossed her arms. "What happened to your eye?"

RSB drank furiously, the plastic bottle crinkling under his grip until it was fully crushed. He tossed it in the bin with more force than was necessary.

"Go on, tell her, Victoria," RSB said, nodding toward Lua, a bitter smirk pulling at his lips.

Victoria rolled her eyes, her mouth twisting in disdain. She snatched the sunglasses from RSB’s hand with a sharp movement, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Mimi..." he murmured, stepping closer with a sigh.

"You know you can talk to us, Mims," Lua said gently, opening her arms for a hug. But Victoria shrank back, shaking her head. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I just fell!" she insisted again, which made RSB exhale sharply in frustration and Lua give a weary smile.

"Why don’t you trust us? We’re your friends!" he snapped, voice cutting through the arcade’s bleeps and bloops. His heart was pounding hard enough to burst, furious.

Victoria slowly straightened her spine, her expression hardening with every breath. Her eyes, once frightened, now flared with fury.

"I knew I shouldn’t have come!" she spat, casting one last scathing look at the two of them before shoving her sunglasses on and storming toward the exit.

"Victoria!" RSB made a move to go after her, but a group of excitable girls blocked his path. "Mimi!"

Lua shrugged, tying her hair up into a ponytail as she shot a look of disdain at the fangirls crowding around RSB, trying to strike up conversation. She shooed them all off before helping him search for Victoria, scanning the second floor of the shopping centre with sharp eyes—but she was already gone.

"Yeah... congratulations," she said, feigning enthusiasm as she gave RSB a shake by the shoulders. "Now all that’s left is to beat that SOB bloke’s record..."

RSB let out a long sigh, his thin lips pressed into a hard line. He ran a hand through his short, black hair, fixing his fringe before staring at his reflection in a shop window. Despite the victory, he felt like a bloody loser. He dropped the skateboard to the ground with a clatter.

"You were a bit out of line back there," Lua said offhandedly, nudging the nose of the board with her foot as she leaned against the mezzanine railing. "Didn’t have to go that far."

"It’s not the first time, Luana." He used her full name like she wasn’t grasping the seriousness of it.

"It’s just... I don’t think it’s easy for her," the girl retorted with the same sharp edge.

"I never said I thought it was. I just... why does she keep lying? It’s obvious that—"

"If it were you in her shoes, would you tell anyone?" Luana cut him off, wetting her full lips.

RSB shook his head, resting one foot on the skateboard and rocking it back and forth.

"I don’t know. I’ve never been through anything like that," he admitted, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, exactly." Lua gave a knowing smile, which made RSB shrug dismissively. "Why are you so on edge lately? Never seen you like this... is it because of The Prophet today?"

"What?" RSB felt his cheeks flush as he glanced down toward the lower floor. "No, why are you all asking me that? What’s even in The Prophet?"

"If it’s not the paper, then what’s got you acting like this?" Luana ignored his question, drumming her nails against the iron railing.

"Acting like what?!" RSB snapped, his lips pressed tight, clearly thrown.

Luana stared at him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes as though trying to read something buried between the lines. She shrugged, fiddled idly with the charms on her chains, and exhaled slowly as she watched the shoppers below. RSB clicked his tongue.

"Just say it, Lua," he said, nudging her with his elbow.

"You fancy her, don’t you?!" Luana grinned, all mockery.

"What? No!" RSB’s voice came out higher than usual, and his face flushed crimson. "Where the fuck did you get that from?!"

"By Merlin’s balls, you like her!" She slapped a hand to her mouth in mock shock, then grabbed his shoulder with glee. "Since when?"

"I don’t... I don’t... I don’t fancy her!" RSB stammered, scandalised by the absurdity of the accusation, wriggling free of her grip.

"Since when?" Luana pressed, leaning on the railing with her elbows, amusement dancing across her face.

"Oh, piss off..." he muttered, hopping onto his skateboard and pushing off.

"Running away?!" she called after him, hands on her hips.

RSB didn’t even bother to look back, flipping her the middle finger as he weaved through the shoppers. A security guard immediately started after him, shouting that skateboarding was forbidden inside the shopping centre.

He didn’t so much as flinch, slipping on his headphones and pressing play on the Walkman.

[Song: Rainbow — Do You Close Your Eyes]

"Regulus Black is in loooove!" Luana sang out behind him before bursting into loud, unrestrained laughter.

 Mystery to me is something I can't see  

But I see you very well  

You slinky, cool, nobody's fool  

But there's something inside I can tell 

Regulus picked up speed, weaving expertly between people and obstacles. His balance was flawless, and the security guards fell farther and farther behind. Some people chuckled, others tutted in disapproval—but Regulus couldn’t care less. A mischievous grin played on his lips as he neared the exit, just as the automatic doors slid open.

 I know a poor man, a rich man  

I know I can talk to a king  

But nobody here is gonna tell me  

I can't find out one thing 

His eyes locked onto the final obstacle: a long staircase with a perfect rail for a grind. Without slowing, he aligned his board and, with inhuman precision, launched into a smooth grind down the entire length. The manoeuvre was so flawlessly executed it earned a round of applause from onlookers.

As he landed, a wave of muggy heat slapped him across the face. The sun wasn’t just blazing—it seemed hell-bent on scorching everyone alive. He skidded to a halt, adjusted his headphones, and pushed off again.

 I see your glow around you  

Open your arms  

'Cause I'm walking to you, coming straight or through  

Maybe I'm wrong but I know it won't take long to see 

Regulus propelled himself forward, the skateboard glued to his feet, launching off the curb to cross the empty street, then again to hop onto the opposite pavement. Despite his speed, the suffocating heat clung to him—there was barely any breeze, and what little there was felt like a hairdryer to the face.

His mind was racing. What Luana had said made absolutely no sense—he wasn’t in love with Mimi. She was his childhood best mate, his next-door neighbour. He bloody well knew she fancied Cedric Diggory and even Harry Potter—especially those sodding green eyes of his.

Do you close your eyes

Do you close your eyes

Do you close your eyes

When you're making love? Yeah, yeah

Making sweet love to me, yeah

Not that Regulus was jealous, of course. He clearly didn’t feel that burning twist in his chest or that sudden dampness in his palms every time she mentioned the boys she fancied. Nor did he make a habit of booting over the second-years’ gobstones game whenever he left the clock tower courtyard after one of her rambling crush rants.

Mimi was his best friend—just like Luana. It was completely normal for him to like her. But that was it… liking her. As a mate.

Right?

 The logical trend is that I'll know in the end  

The things that make you smile  

To right from the start, I'll take an aim at your heart  

And know that all the while 

He sighed, bending his knees as he approached a park bench, prepping for a flashier trick. With a precise push, he launched himself into a perfect kickflip, the board spinning cleanly beneath him before he landed it smoothly and continued gliding forward without missing a beat.

 I know a rich man, a poor man  

I know I can talk to a king, yeah  

So nobody here is gonna make me believe  

I can't find out one thing 

The music in his ears was pure fuel, and he was especially obsessed with Rainbow. According to his Uncle Remus, he’d been listening to them since he was in nappies and never stopped. He had all their tapes—including a super rare release he’d inherited from his parents.

 I see your glow around you  

Open your arms  

'Cause I'm coming, running, straight or through  

I could be wrong but I know it won't take long to see 

London summers had always been hot, but today was downright hellish. Regulus felt the sweat trickling down behind his ears and along his neck, already regretting the jeans. Should’ve gone out in shorts—but he always chose style over comfort. He cruised around a fountain full of playing children and continued until he reached a crossing, where he picked up his skateboard and waited for the light to change.

His Uncle Remus didn’t live far from the shopping centre. Technically, the house was Regulus’s too, though he still stayed with his aunt and uncle in a place further out from central London. Remus’s home, on the other hand, was much more central—bit of a gem, really.

 Do you close your eyes  

Do you close your eyes  

Do you close your eyes  

When you're making love? 

It didn’t take long for him to reach the place. He came to a stop, grabbing his board as he jogged up the front steps. Panting, the sun roasting the back of his neck, he rang the bell a few times. Then he pulled the headphones down around his neck and paused the tape just before Stargazer could kick in.

"Uncle?!" he called, trying to peer through the glass of the front door—but he couldn’t see a thing.

He looked both ways down the street, crouched down, retrieved the key from beneath the wisteria pot, and let himself in without ceremony. He stomped his trainers on the doormat and crossed the foyer, greeted by the refreshing cool air inside.

Regulus left the skateboard in a corner and craned his neck towards the kitchen, only to find it empty. He downed a good amount of cold water before walking into the living room, letting his sweaty fingers brush across the black cover draped over the grand piano. His eyes scanned the mantelpiece, the trio of sofas arranged around the telly, and the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

"Uncle?!" he called out again.

No response. He was alone.

Regulus trailed his dirty fingers along the bedroom doors, pushing open the last one gingerly: a dusty, long-abandoned studio. Some equipment still remained—the drum toms and a couple of synths set further back. A broken amp sat next to a shattered frame holding the cover of Toto’s first album, and in one corner lay a worn-out, grimy kitten plushie.

He closed the door, checking the clock. Nearly four in the afternoon. Remus should’ve been back by now. Regulus took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Growing impatient, he took a few steps back and opened the door to another room—one with a large double bed strewn with clothes.

It had been left like that for twelve years, and it always struck Regulus how nothing ever changed. The dragon-hide leather jacket still lay gleaming and untouched atop the blanket, the aviator sunglasses beside it. His eyes drifted to the dresser in the corner, where a handful of magical photographs moved in slow, eerie loops.

Regulus sighed, stepped into the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror—at the freckles across his nose, the grey-blue of his eyes, and the mess of sweat-damp hair from skating. His cheeks were flushed, definitely sunburnt from the harsh exposure on the way over.

He dried his face, opened the cabinet drawer, and found a cream that had expired years ago. Cracking it open, a soft vanilla scent hit his nose, making him smile faintly before tucking it back away. He really should’ve just left the room and not touched anything—his uncle had always asked him not to.

But Remus wasn’t home.

Regulus stripped off and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water wash the sweat from his skin. He skimmed through the dozens of magical cosmetics lined up on the shelves, eventually reaching for one that looked bizarre and smelled even worse. He gave up on the lot when he realised most were long past their expiry date—after all, when was the last time anyone had used them?

Twelve years?!

He stepped out of the shower and soaked the entire bathroom while fumbling around for a towel, eventually wrapping himself in one. Opening the drawers, he found a faded David Bowie T-shirt and pulled it on, along with a pair of chain-covered jeans that fit him perfectly—as if they’d been made for him, though they clearly weren’t. He grabbed his watch from the pocket of his old jeans and slipped it into the new pair.

Regulus left his hair wet, brushing the fringe to the side in that way that always made the fourth-year girls sigh. Did Mimi like his hair like this? He rolled his eyes at the thought, scooping up his sweaty clothes and shoving them into a plastic bag before sprawling himself across his uncle’s sofa.

He reached an arm toward the coffee table, trying to grab the telly remote. But a copy of The Daily Prophet lay in the way, and he couldn’t help but freeze as his eyes landed on the enormous photo splashed across the front page: a gaunt-faced man with long, tangled hair blinked slowly at Regulus.

BLACK ESCAPES!

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, has escaped. The information was confirmed today by the Ministry of Magic. “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.” Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

“Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it — who’d believe him if he did?” While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

It became hard to swallow when Sirius's eyes—fierce even in print—seemed to pierce straight through him. Regulus gasped, as if he’d just finished a long run, and turned his face away sharply. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. Soft, distant memories echoed in his mind, sending shivers racing across his skin.

He didn’t realise he was crying. Didn’t notice the breath catching in his throat or how the air seemed to vanish from the room. He stood, his muscles stiff with tension. His gaze immediately shot toward the small cord that dangled from the ceiling—leading to the attic.

His fingers tingled. His pulse faltered. He looked toward the front door, then back to the hallway, the battle inside him raging violently.

Then he gave in to the impulse.

He crossed the hallway and tugged the cord, unfolding the ladder with a dull creak.

The one place he was strictly forbidden to go. The attic.  

Regulus had never been the type to break family rules—though doing it at Hogwarts was bloody brilliant fun. He gripped the ladder with both hands, eyes lingering for a moment on the Signet etched onto his left hand. A hereditary mark, almost like a tattoo: two serpents intertwining into the shape of an infinity symbol, each biting the other’s tail in a circle.

He climbed up and was immediately hit by the sharp scent of dust. Drawing his wand from his pocket, he whispered, "Lumos," and light illuminated the triangular space, full of cobwebs and mystery. Boxes were stacked everywhere—some labelled, others not. Regulus grimaced and crawled over to the nearest one, where Scarlett was scrawled in bold letters on a strip of tape.

He opened the box, sneezing as the pungent stench of mildew wafted up. Hundreds of vinyl records were packed inside, along with all sorts of random trinkets. He thumbed through a stack of what looked like polaroids, flipping the top one over.

It showed a woman with black hair and striking blue eyes, laughing as she hugged an enormous black dog. It was a magical photo, and as the dog licked her face, she pulled away with a comical grimace. Regulus found himself smiling in spite of everything, gently brushing his fingers over her face. His heartbeat slowed, the anger melting into something else—something quieter, older. Nostalgia, though he couldn’t place the memory.

He just knew it felt good.  

Because now he was crying again—but for a completely different reason.

He turned the photo over. A messy scrawl read:  

Scarlett and Padfoot, summer of '78.

Regulus traced a finger over Scarlett’s name and slid the photo into his pocket.

Then he picked up the next one.

Scarlett was being held in the arms of a tall, bearded man with shoulder-length black hair and tattoos covering his arms and chest. The wind blew through his hair, and he wore the very same aviator sunglasses Regulus had seen on the bed earlier. The man leaned down to kiss Scarlett with the kind of passion that made her arms tighten around his neck, her legs stretching with the contact. They were on a beach. They were smiling. The photo repeated the kiss in an endless loop.

Regulus choked on his own spit, as if he'd just taken a punch to the gut. His fingers clenched the edge of the photograph so tightly his knuckles turned white. He flipped it over.  

Scarius, summer of '78, Brighton.

Suddenly, the attic felt too hot, too tight, too full. Regulus shot up, cracking his head against the sloped ceiling with a loud thud. Dust rained into his eyes and he winced, shaking his head as he scrambled backwards, patting the floor blindly until he found the stairs. He clambered down, gasping for breath, brushing the grime off his clothes in jerky, frantic motions.

He needed another shower.

Regulus sneezed, coughed, and darted back to the bathroom, splashing water over his face again. He hadn’t even realised he was still holding the photos. When he looked up, he saw one of them in the mirror, lying on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening made his heart thump louder than it already was, his emotions colliding in a chaotic blur. Regulus grabbed the polaroids and made his way slowly toward the living room, his mind a furnace of wild thoughts.

"Reg? You're home already?!" Remus’s voice carried in from the kitchen as he set down a bunch of shopping bags. He entered the living room with a smile on his face. "How was the arcade?"

Regulus’s reply was to hurl the photograph onto the copy of the Daily Prophet with Sirius Black’s face staring up from the front page.

Remus’s smile vanished instantly. The colour drained from his face, and his dark eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer, gaze flicking between the photo and the paper.

"They loved each other!" Regulus let the fury pour out, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "All these years—you lied to me!"

"You went up into the attic?!" Remus’s tone was accusatory, his eyes darting toward the hallway. His expression faltered when he saw the ladder still extended.

"Don’t you dare try to change the subject!" Regulus roared, rage washing over him in a blinding wave, breaking through the layers of self-control and dragging more tears to the surface. "Why did you lie to me?!"

"I didn’t—" Remus drew in a very deep breath, then another. He pressed his fingers hard against his temples. "Regulus… can we maybe not do this today? The moon—"

"Oh, for Merlin’s sake, you’ve lied to me my whole life and now you want to wait for the bloody lunar phase before you decide to tell me the truth?!" Regulus snapped, his voice ragged as he gestured wildly, barely keeping himself together.

"Reg, please… I…" Remus let out all the air in his lungs, scratching at the grey in his beard. "I was hired. I’m going to be your professor…"

"She died. And still… still you don’t want to talk about her. Uncle Orfy won’t talk about her. Nate won’t talk about her. But I want to—I deserve to!" Regulus rubbed at his eyes, trying to stop the tears from stinging. "Why?!"

"Reg…"

"It can’t be that the only thing she ever was… was a Death Eater!" Regulus pressed on, sniffling. "Why didn’t you tell me the truth? What happened between them?"

"Reg… Scarlett and Sirius, they…" Remus’s bottom lip trembled. He was putting up a herculean effort not to cry himself, running his finger over the scars on his face as he tried to explain something he barely understood himself.

Regulus waited. Remus didn’t continue. He just exhaled shakily and buried his face in his hands.

"You went into his room," Remus murmured at last, after a long silence, not daring to meet his gaze.

Regulus let out a bitter laugh, shoving the photo back into his pocket before jabbing a finger toward his uncle’s face.

"You’re unbelievable, Lupin!" he spat, then stormed over to his skateboard. He snatched it up in anger, grabbed his bag of clothes, and looked at Remus one last time. "I thought…" he gasped for air, feeling like he couldn’t breathe, "I thought you, of all people, would tell me the truth. You were their friend, Uncle. I… I remember him. I was young, but I remember him. He used to sing to me, that’s why I love Rainbow so much, because he…"

"Regulus… he betrayed us. They both did. The McKinnons, the Potters—"

"For Merlin’s sake, can’t you see past that?!" Regulus screamed, the tears scorching hot down his cheeks. "You know what? Go fuck yourself!" he hissed, plunging his hand into the Floo powder on the hearth.

"Regulus!" his uncle cried out—less of a scolding and more of a plea.

But Regulus didn’t stay to hear whatever else Remus had to say. Not like he was going to tell him the truth anyway. He stepped into the fireplace, letting the emerald flames swallow him whole, and emerged in his own house—nearly colliding with his Uncle Orfeu, who was reading the paper in his armchair.

"Reg?" Orfeu folded the paper shut at once, as though terrified his nephew might see the headline. "You’re back already? I thought you were having dinner with Remus—"

"No… I’m not having dinner with him," Regulus muttered bitterly, dropping his skateboard to the floor and kicking off, rolling slowly towards his room.

"Hey, what did we say about skating indoors?!" Orfeu shouted, but was promptly ignored. "Regulus Sirius Black!" he called out, more sharply.

"Leave me alone!" Regulus bellowed, hurling his clothes into the laundry basket with force. He grabbed his gloves and pulled them on, shooting a sideways glance at the door just as his uncle opened it.

"What happened, Reggie?!" Orfeu leaned on the doorframe, his face knotted with worry, dark brown hair tied back in a loose, half-done ponytail. "Is it about the paper? About… Sirius?"

Regulus swiped his arm across his face, wanting nothing more than to dig his nails into his cheeks and tear the flesh away until this burning ache in his chest disappeared. He looked at Orfeu, trying—failing—to hide what he was feeling.

He pulled the photo from his pocket and held it up.

Orfeu went pale. His green eyes darted instantly to the ceiling, and he recoiled.

"That wasn’t her, Reg," he said, barely above a whisper, but the grief in his voice hit Regulus like a punch to the chest.

"They loved each other."

"Scarlett loved Regulus," he corrected quickly, his voice vibrating with dread. "Not Sirius."

"They looked happy in this photo."

"Oh, Reg, she was good at pretending. She could make you believe anything. She was manipulative… she was…" Orfeu’s fingers slid up the sleeve of his long shirt, brushing against the burn scars that laced his arm. "It was her fault. She wasn’t a good person. The only good thing she ever did… was you."

Regulus shook his head slowly.

"I don’t believe you. You lied to me, just like Remus. Who’s to say you’re not lying now too?!" he spat, shoving past his uncle and storming out of the room. "You, Nate, Remus… three bloody liars!"

"Reggie…" Orfeu murmured, eyes squeezing shut as the boy slammed the front door behind him.

Regulus bounded down the steps outside his home, then sank down onto the concrete ledge at the front. He hugged his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, rewinding his Rainbow tape, trying to drown out Orfeu’s words, repeating to himself over and over that it was all lies.

He needed it to be lies. His mother couldn’t be a monster—not when everyone already said she was. Not when the Slytherin bastards congratulated him for being the son of Death Eaters, for the murder of the McKinnons, for the murder of the Potters…

He wiped away the last of his tears as the sun dipped between the rooftops, sinking into the horizon and casting skeletal shadows across the pavement. His head ached, his eyes burned, and his chest smoked like it might burst. He pulled the photo from his pocket again, gently rubbing a thumb over Scarlett’s face.

The urge to cry rose once more.

He swallowed hard as a cluster of white-haired heads came into view, quickly trying to wipe away the evidence of tears before Victoria climbed the steps beside her brothers: Vinny, the eldest; Vin, the middle one; and Victoria’s twin, Victor. All of them were Slytherins, like Regulus. He’d known them his entire life, though he never cared much for the older two.

"Alright, Reg?" Vinny gave a smug little smirk. Regulus eyed his knuckles, searching for something that might incriminate him.

"Hey, Vinny," Regulus replied casually, greeting him with a quick slap of hands. Vin came next—nothing on him either.

Victor gave a small nod, and Victoria lingered, watching the trio head through the door right next to Regulus’s—their houses were semi-detached.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone laced with concern as she touched his shoulder lightly. Regulus stared at her slender fingers and long nails before raising his gaze to her face—the face that made his heart splinter into a thousand tiny pieces. And to the bruise that turned his chest to molten stone.

Victoria had the kind of beauty pure-blood families prized: refined brows, a sharp nose, a delicate chin, lips shaped like a heart—velvety and red, inviting. Regulus swallowed thickly, feeling foolish.

"Nothing," he lied, looking away toward the empty street.

"You read The Prophet," she guessed, leaning on the ledge in front of him. "Look, Reg… if you want—"

"I'm fine," Regulus cut her off, pretending to be far too interested in fiddling with his Walkman to look at her. "Just needed some air."

"I thought you were having dinner with your uncle Lupin," she went on. The streetlamps flickered on, casting long shadows across her face, turning her eyes to deep brown.

"I was." It was all he said.

Victoria’s fingers slipped from his shoulder, trailing down to his knee, gently guiding his face toward hers by the chin.

"Reg…"

"Are you going to tell me the truth?" Regulus didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Victoria sighed, licked her lips, and gave him two soft pats on the shoulder.

"You know I can’t," she murmured, glancing nervously toward the door of her house. "Either way…"

"Just go, Victoria. Leave me alone," Regulus snapped. He regretted it immediately. All he really wanted was for her to stay. But if she wasn’t going to tell him the truth, then he wouldn’t give her his either. Not even she could fill the gaping hole in his chest—a feeling that had haunted him since he was a child. It wouldn’t change now, not just because Sirius was on the run.

She twisted her lips in annoyance and slipped into her house. Regulus gave himself a couple of light slaps to the face, feeling like a complete idiot.  

If it were Harry Potter, she would’ve told him!

A strange chill crept down the back of his neck, giving him the unmistakable feeling of being watched. But when he glanced both ways down the street, there was no one. Somewhere in the distance, a bin clattered to the ground and a few dogs barked, but nothing seemed out of place. He shook off the feeling and returned to his own personal mess, pulling his silver watch from his pocket and clenching it in his palm until it hurt.

It pissed him off how often he was compared to Harry Potter. He’d never even spoken to the bloke, but of course they’d both ended up at the centre of gossip when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened the year before. And again—Harry, the son of celebrated wizards who’d died fighting Voldemort. And Regulus?

He was the son of two Death Eaters.

And yet, he and Harry had more in common than people liked to admit. Regulus had grown up with his uncles too. He’d been the target of cruel whispers, even accused of being the Heir of Slytherin. He hated how quick people were to believe he was dangerous just because of his bloodline.

He pulled the photo from his pocket and opened his watch. Inside was the old family portrait—his mother sitting stiffly in a chair, dressed in Victorian-style robes, her face set in a mournful scowl as if attending a funeral. His father stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, equally stern. Like it was all just a formality.

He turned his eyes to the photo from the attic, where his mother looked so genuinely happy it made his chest twist. He exhaled slowly, fingers brushing across her smiling face, the sorrow hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Regulus and Harry also shared one more thing in common:  A godfather. 

The fugitive, the murderer, the madman Sirius Black.

.

.

.

He was so, so, so tiny. His feet were barely the size of Sirius’s thumb, his little hands clinging desperately to his fingers as though searching for something— someone —to hold onto. Sirius gasped, adjusting the collar of his T-shirt like it was choking him, though it was the vertigo, the overwhelming sensation crashing over him, that made it hard to breathe.

“S-S-Sirius… Regulus…” Scarlett stammered, her bloodied fingertips clinging to his elbow. “Regulus… Sirius…” she repeated, pupils blown wide. “Black.”

Sirius’s stomach churned as he was ushered out of the surgery room by the healers, heart hammering in his chest with something so small and fragile cradled against it. He looked down at the black tuft of hair crowning baby Reggie’s head, at the little mouth that puckered and blew bubbles, then stretched into a wild, messy smile.

He had never wanted anything more in his life than for a child to be his.

Still reeling from what had just happened, his clothes soaked in Scarlett’s blood, his body trembling with the crash of adrenaline, Sirius could hardly process it all.

“Regulus Sirius, huh?” he murmured to the tiny baby, as if he could understand. Reggie reached up with his tiny arms, grabbing a handful of Sirius’s hair and tugging it gently. Just like his mother, Reg had a Signet on his left hand. “You like my hair?”

A single teardrop fell onto Regulus’s cheek, and Sirius quickly wiped it away. He hadn’t even noticed his own eyes brimming—tears washing away the fury, the bitterness, everything he’d felt until now, drowned by something as pure as a newborn’s breath.

“Are you the father?” one of the nurses asked, clipboard in hand, quill poised mid-air as she eyed him.

He had never wanted to say yes to anything more.

His jaw clenched. He licked his lips.

“Uncle,” he corrected her, forcing the word out like it tasted wrong.

“Oh,” she said, raising her brows as she flipped through a few pages on the clipboard. “Sirius Orion Black?”

“That’s right.” He heard a small grunt from baby Reggie and glanced down with concern—but the baby had already fallen asleep in his arms, breathing softly.

“You’re listed as the child’s godfather,” the nurse noted, handing him the quill. “According to your brother’s will.”

“What?” The floor seemed to tilt under him. His knees went weak. “Godfather?”

“That’s correct. Has the mother chosen the name?”

“Regulus Sirius Black,” Sirius answered, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them—too dazed to do anything else but stand there, holding the child like his own world was unraveling.

He looked down at Reggie again, his chest churning with a hundred contradictory emotions. He should hate this child. He should’ve walked away, refused to help Scarlett, run from the war and all of it. Regulus Sirius was the living proof of betrayal—Scarlett’s betrayal, and his brother’s.

Scarlett, ever cruel, had named the boy after him.

So why, then, was every instinct in Sirius screaming to protect this baby? Even from himself?

He was so… delicate. Defenceless. He had Scarlett’s nose.

Something foul and burning twisted in his gut. Bile clawed at his throat.

He had never envied his brother more than he did in that moment.

Sirius had never wished so desperately that the child were his.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXX

[Song: Toto — Make Believe]

The moonlight filtered through the swaying pines. Whiskers bristled her tuxedo fur, peering between the roots, staying downwind so the mouse wouldn’t catch her scent. Tensing her back paws and readying herself in full alert, her pupils widened to see better in the dark.  

Why don't we make believe we're in love again?  

Who said the crimson moon doesn't shine?  

Where do people go when they're lookin' for that  

One of a kind? 

Whiskers gave a little wiggle, raised her tail, and pounced, catching the tiny mouse, her mouth watering as the taste of blood hit her tongue. Proud of herself, she perked her ears, catching the heavy footsteps of Padfoot not far off.  

She wanted to eat the animal on her own, but perhaps Padfoot needed the food more—he was much larger than she was, and they’d been running for days to put distance between them and Azkaban. Whiskers slinked through the tree roots silently; after all, she wasn’t the only predator out that night. The forest was dense and dark, but it didn’t take her long to spot the pale light cast by their ghosts.  

Why don't we make believe that we're sorry?  

Why must we hold it all inside?  

Where do lovers go when they're runnin' and there's no  

Place to hide?  

Prongs was bounding about, keeping pace with Padfoot. Regulus and Lily were a little further off, trying to navigate using the stars. As she neared the group, Whiskers felt a bit self-conscious seeing that Padfoot had hunted down a massive boar. He, too, seemed to expect to share dinner with her, his ears twitching subtly at the sight of the little mouse in the cat’s mouth.  

Impressed—and slightly intimidated—by the size of the prey, Whiskers ate the mouse and joined in on the boar, after a decade and a half of consuming nothing but that vile Azkaban slop. Her mouth watered and, for a moment, she could hardly chew; the hunger still ached even after she was full. To remember the taste of meat was like tasting the nectar of the gods—that meal was the best thing she’d ever eaten in her life.  

At least, as far as she could recall. Which wasn’t much. She remembered foods, what she liked and disliked, but not the taste itself. Once properly fed, Whiskers and Padfoot began looking for a place to rest and digest their meal.

The day we met in the pouring rain

We went our separate ways

No matter which way the wind blows now

Hang on to it anyhow

Don't ever say it could never be the same

Whiskers noticed that Padfoot kept licking his hip obsessively, trying to mask the limp in his gait. Concerned, she attempted to approach for a closer look, but as she did, Padfoot let out a low growl—a clear signal for her to keep her distance.

Whiskers lowered her ears and tail, signalling that she meant no harm. Padfoot sniffed the top of her head, licked her ears, then turned his face sharply toward a suspicious sound. They bolted through the forest, breaking into a vast grassy field.  

Why don't we make believe we're in love again?  

Who said the crimson moon doesn't shine?  

Where do people go when they're lookin' for that  

One of a kind? 

The wind brushed through the grasses, swaying them like waves stirred by the tide. Padfoot wagged his tail and barked at Whiskers before sprinting into the tall grass and crouching down low. Whiskers didn’t immediately understand what he was up to—until she caught him watching her intently, then dashing forward to nudge her head with his snout before darting off again at full speed.

Whiskers huffed, ears perking up as she ducked beneath the undergrowth, hiding herself and tuning in to the sound of Padfoot’s heavy breathing. Once she located him, she quickly nipped at his heel and took off, prompting the dog to give a little leap and chase after her across the clearing.  

Why don't we make believe that we're sorry?  

Why must we hold it all inside?  

Where do lovers go when they're runnin' and there's no  

Place to hide?"

It was strange, simply knowing she could go anywhere she pleased, whenever she wanted. The feeling of freedom was so intense it made Whiskers dizzy. She flopped into the grass, abandoning the game of escape from Padfoot. He, too, lay down beside her, rolling in the plants and panting heavily.  

Holding hands on a summer day  

(No more pretendin')  

You took it all away  

I didn't come here to change your mind  

Lead you on or waste your time  

All alone in the evening? 

The sky above them was a show in itself. The surrounding darkness sharpened the milky dust stretched across the night’s canvas, where the stars sparkled at their brightest. Whiskers narrowed her eyes slightly, the soft breeze brushing her fur, the scents of the night confirming they were alone in the middle of nowhere.  

Why don't we make believe? 

Whiskers tilted her snout slightly to the side, gazing at Padfoot. His grey eyes scanned the sky, and she quickly looked away when their eyes met—only to notice tiny stars flickering between them.  

Stars?  

No… not stars.  

Fireflies.

Scarlett watched, stunned, as the tiny insects fluttered around her face, one landing on her nose. The touch was subtle, strange—their little legs felt rough against her skin. She froze, eyes wide, hands trembling. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She heard a snort and her gaze immediately snapped to the side, locking onto Sirius. The fireflies had settled in his long black hair, and for a moment, it looked as though they were mirroring the starry sky.

His grey irises shimmered as if they were absorbing all the light those tiny creatures emitted, as if they were igniting everything that the time they'd spent apart had failed to extinguish, as if the spark of that thing between them—the thing that clawed at them and caressed them—was still… alive. Latent, dormant, nearly gone.  

Why don't we make believe that we're sorry?  

Why must we hold it all inside?  

Where do lovers go when they're runnin' and there's no  

Place to hide?

But it was still there, as if all those fourteen years apart hadn’t been enough. Nothing was. Nothing could smother the erratic beats of their hearts, the sweat on their fingers, the looks brimming with unspoken hope.

There was so much stuck in their throats, but neither of them wanted to let it out. They were free from Azkaban, yet not free from their demons, their guilt, or their crimes. Not free from the hatred… nor from the love.  

Why don't we make believe?

It was raw. It stung and burned, but it also soothed, uplifted, calmed. Scarlett held her breath when Sirius’s tattooed pinky brushed against hers. It was a gentle touch, nearly nonexistent, yet it awakened a hundred sensations in her body she barely remembered. A warm pulse quivered through her muscles, dilated her pupils, sent a shiver up her neck.

With his other hand, Sirius reached out, extending his index finger to the tip of her nose, gently brushing away the firefly perched there. The creature took flight, and Sirius's eyes followed it until it melted into the stars above.

A shadow of a smile crossed Sirius’s lips. His expression softened slowly, the silver in his gaze rippling with something Scarlett couldn’t quite name. Then he turned serious, the grass dancing between them as the gentle breeze brushed their cheeks. Her stomach flipped.

"I’m not going to hurt you," Sirius murmured, his eyes locked on hers.

Scarlett tensed, her hands turning to stone as Sirius’s pinky looped around hers in a slow, deliberate, measured movement.

"You should," she whispered, so softly that the wind carried her words away with ease.

The silver in his gaze crawled and wavered, swallowed by the shadows cast by Sirius’s long lashes. His lips parted slowly, and he drew in a breath, as if weighing what to say.

“You… did you really want to? Come back?” he asked, brow furrowing, his eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and guilt.

Scarlett nodded softly, Sirius’s handsome face blurring as tears spilled over, forcing her to rub her eyes. He took a deep breath, still not letting go of her pinky, simply gazing at the sky, torn between staying still or reaching out to comfort her.

But Sirius was human, and the pain Scarlett had caused him wasn’t easily healed—let alone forgotten. So, he did nothing. He should’ve been shouting at her, hurting her, just as she’d suggested. Sirius wasn’t cruel, not anymore—he had once been cruel to someone he loved, and the outcome had been catastrophic.

And as much as he hated Scarlett with every fibre of his being, there was still a part of him that loved her. A piece the Dementors hadn’t managed to rip away, a fracture he himself couldn’t mend. It was stronger than him, like it was etched into his soul, woven into his very core, his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Scarlett said again, wiping the tears with the sleeve of her pyjamas.

Sirius pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I know.” He released her hand. Those words had stirred something deep inside him—something he wasn’t ready to face. “Me too.”

Then Sirius shifted back into Padfoot. It was easier to exist with all that had happened in the dog’s skin, where things weren’t so complicated, where his emotions weren’t tangled, where hate wasn’t laced with the thorns of love.

The fireflies vanished, plunging them into a darkness not even the stars could dispel. Scarlett curled into herself and became Whiskers once more.

They slept.

They barely noticed the sun rise, the birdsong, the scent of dew. Whiskers was so cosy in her soft, fluffy bed she could’ve slept for days. But the bed disagreed—it dumped her onto the cold grass, jolting her awake as she tried to make sense of what had happened.

Padfoot gave her head a brief lick, and only then did she realise her bed had been the dog himself. He gave a full-body shake, black fur rippling, and started sniffing the wind in search of breakfast. Whiskers let him hunt alone, still a bit dazed from the blissful night’s rest.

“You’re heading that way,” said Lily, pointing toward a rise in the grassy land, where a mountain stood in the distance. Whiskers yawned, stretching out, her eyes on her friend’s red hair as it danced in the breeze.

She looked around for her other ghosts, but Regulus and James seemed to be scouting the area. Lily sat beside her, hugging her knees, watching her with unease.

“Scarlett… you’re not going to kill him, are you? Peter.” She bit her lower lip. “I know what he did, but… you need him alive to prove Sirius’s innocence.”

Whiskers tilted her head to the side, as if seeing Lily from a different angle might help her better understand what she meant. It wasn’t her revenge, anyway. She’d leave it in Sirius’s hands.

Padfoot soon returned, carrying a massive bird. Whiskers ate, savouring every second of the salty flavour softening her taste buds, the food weighing down her stomach, making her feel alive. It was strange. In Azkaban, it was as if she’d been just a shell of herself. A… ghost.

After finishing the meal, Whiskers set the pace, following Lily’s direction. As they trekked through the forest, a clearing caught their attention with the sharp stench of rot. It wasn’t like the natural smells of the woods—it was… meat. Rotting meat.

They found a camp that looked like it had been attacked by a large creature. There were signs of a struggle and, more disturbingly, a few dead bodies. Whiskers narrowed her eyes, spotting James and Regulus inside one of the tents.

“Scarlett, come here!” James waved her over, and the cat padded through the grisly scene to where they were. “Look!” He pointed to a key, seemingly unbothered by whatever fate had befallen the dead.

Whiskers looked at James, tail swishing side to side.

“It’s a car key, Whiskers,” Regulus explained, pointing to a stuffed backpack. “Supplies. For your trip.”

Scarlett shifted back from her Animagus form and picked up the car key.

“I don’t remember how to drive,” she whispered, hoping Sirius didn’t hear her.

“I’ll help you,” James offered with a reassuring smile. “That way you’ll get there much faster… wherever it is you’re going, anyway?”

Scarlett snorted, shrugging. She hadn’t the faintest idea at the moment—she just wanted to get as far from Azkaban as possible. She opened the backpack and shoved in as many clothes as she could, then downed an entire bottle of water she found inside.

“But where’s the car?” Regulus stroked his chin, poking his head outside the tent. “You can’t see anything from here and I didn’t spot any roads along the way.”

“Just use Accio,” James rolled his eyes, as if the answer were painfully obvious. “It’ll show up in no time…”

James was right. Scarlett pulled her wand from the waistband of her trousers—her wand.

“She’s going to cast Accio on the car and get flattened by it…” Regulus elbowed James. “ …brilliant , Jay.”

“Well… I didn’t think that far ahead,” James laughed, taking off his glasses to rub his face.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Regulus retorted with a condescending tone, only to be shoved by James out of the tent. The two of them burst into laughter, tumbling into a scuffle with their feet tangled in the canvas. Scarlett watched it unfold with a strange detachment, the voices and laughter echoing in the back of her mind—memories tucked away in a dark, hidden box.

Since when had they become such good friends?

The wind rustled the tent and sunlight filtered through, casting a glare that made Scarlett squint. She turned sharply, instinctively on alert… but it was only a mirror. Slowly, she bent down, picked it up—and her eyes widened at the sight of her own reflection.

She looked awful. Sunken eyes, stretched cheeks, bloodless lips. She looked like a corpse. And her hair—more tangled than a bird’s nest. It was the first time she’d felt ashamed of her own appearance. Azkaban hadn’t stolen all her memories, but it had robbed her of a piece of her youth.

She still looked younger than she really was, even like this, but she bore marks that few her age carried. Her hands moved instinctively along her spine, where the scars from Azkaban had etched her suffering into flesh.

She shook her head to chase the thoughts away. Grabbing a hunting knife from the backpack, she pulled her hair forward and cut it just below her shoulders. Then she changed clothes—slipping into army trousers, a pair of boots, and a white tank top. She was so thin that the clothes looked oversized on her, even though they were a normal fit.

When she stepped out of the tent, she found Sirius standing in the middle of the extinguished campfire, staring at the corpses in horror.

“What are you doing?” His eyes scanned her with cold precision.

For a few seconds, Scarlett wondered the same.

“I… I…” she stammered, clearing her throat. It was strange, speaking to Sirius like that. It was strange being outside Azkaban. Everything felt like unfamiliar ground. “Gathering… supplies.”

“These people are dead and you’re robbing them?!” His voice was hoarse. Scarlett understood. It was strange for her too, speaking so much after years of barely speaking at all—to anyone but her ghosts.

“It’s not like they’ll need it,” Scarlett shrugged, slinging the backpack over her shoulder. “Do you want to catch Wormtail or not?!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, as if her response had caught him off guard. Then he just breathed in deeply and nodded. He didn’t really know what he was doing either. The very idea of freedom was so distant, it had never even occurred to him to reach for it.

It didn’t take him long to return, now dressed in a pair of light-washed jeans and a colourful T-shirt that made James stifle a laugh.

“I don’t see… how changing clothes and grabbing all this stuff is going to help us. It’s much easier to move in Animagus form… especially with Dementors possibly on our tail,” Sirius panted, out of breath after speaking so much.

Scarlett raised the car key and gave it a shake, making him frown.

“You remember how to drive?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“No, Sirius, but just leave it to Daddy here—he’s got it covered,” James said, pointing to himself with a cheeky grin.

“I think I’ve got it,” Scarlett ignored him, glancing around. “Now we just need to find where it is…”

“Here!” Lily called from somewhere between the trees. “It’s over here!”

“Can you Apparate?” Sirius remained detached from all the commotion caused by the ghosts.

Scarlett shook her head, licking her lips.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding slightly.

“I cast Evanesco on your things in the tent… it’s best if we erase all traces of ourselves here.” Sirius stretched his arms out, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Scarlett watched, hypnotised, as his tattoos came into view along with the burn scar.

She didn’t recognise most of the designs. There were moon phases, musical notes, dates...

Dates.  

21.10.1978 

31.07.1980

“Scar?” It wasn’t Sirius who pulled her from her daze. It was Regulus, appearing beside his brother. His ghostly glow was nearly drowned out by the sunlight streaming through the trees. “You alright?”

But Scarlett’s gaze remained fixed on Sirius. He’d finished rolling up the second sleeve and now stared back at her. He was so pale he looked like a vampire. His eyes had gone indifferent, his face wearing an impassive mask.

“I think the car’s over there,” Scarlett whispered, pointing in Lily’s direction. She climbed the incline and they walked through the trees until they found the vehicle parked in a patch of dirt, near a road.

The smell of damp earth made her feel a bit dizzy. The morning sounds filled the air so intensely it overwhelmed her—she wasn’t used to so much noise, not any that wasn’t the waves crashing against Azkaban’s stone walls. It was disorienting to realise the world was so much more than that dark, hellish hole.

“Slot the key in the door,” James instructed, and Scarlett did as told. She unlocked the doors while Sirius scanned the surroundings and the sky, as if expecting the weather to suddenly darken and the Dementors to descend upon them.

The sky, however, was blue and clear, the sun shining in all its brilliance. Scarlett sat in the driver’s seat, running her hand across the cold dashboard. It felt strange to settle into something as comfortable as that leather seat.

Outside, Sirius leaned against the car, watching Scarlett move as if guided by some strange instinct. He placed his hand on the car’s handle and opened the door, lowering himself into the back seat. He ran his fingers along the leather, picking up a crumpled piece of paper that had been tucked there.

A map.

Sirius stepped out of the car again, eyes locking onto a nearby sign showing mileage. He searched for it on the tiny lines of the map, finally finding it in the far north. Pressing a dirty finger to the spot, he traced the route endlessly southward to England. They were far from London—it would take at least a full day of non-stop travel.

The car engine’s rumble grated in his ears, making him clutch the map tighter in his hands. Sirius still felt too dazed from the escape to act with any real clarity, and he was quietly thankful that Scarlett had taken the lead.

He got back in, set the map on the passenger seat, and lay down across the back, folding his long legs and staring up at the mildewed ceiling. Scarlett avoided looking at him, shifting gears just as James had instructed. But the car stalled.

“You’ve got to push the clutch harder…” James leaned over the dashboard, watching how Scarlett was using the pedals. “Now press the gearstick… put it in reverse…”

Scarlett sighed, knowing she couldn’t say anything back to her friend. She didn’t want Sirius thinking she was mad—more than he already did. She simply shook her head, to James’s clear annoyance.

“Like this, see…” He hesitated for a second as his eyes fell on Scarlett’s Signet, uncovered now that her left hand was on the gearstick. Then, brushing it off, he pressed his palm down onto hers.

Something very strange happened.

James felt the gearstick between his fingers—and he didn’t phase through it. Quite the opposite. He could feel the leather surface pressed to his palm, cold and lifeless. Scarlett glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, her expression alarmed.

James moved his hand, shifting the gear. Except it wasn’t his hand doing it—it was Scarlett’s. The Signet turned, slowly, and he felt a tug in his chest.

“What the fuck?!” James stared at her, face coloured with shock. “I’m controlling your hand?”

Scarlett looked deeply displeased but nodded, trying to pull James’s hand away from hers, only to find she had no control over her own limb.

“You’re leaving without us?!” Lily climbed into the car through the boot, peering at them via the mirror. Regulus followed suit.

“I’m stuck to Scarlett!” James announced, his initial shock giving way to an expression of pure amazement. “I can control her hand!” He raised his own left hand, causing Scar’s to lift with it.

Lily and Regulus exchanged a look.

“Are you alright?” Sirius peered between the seats at her. Scarlett, pale and hyperventilating, simply nodded.

She couldn’t control her left arm. It felt numb, useless—though the idiot James took full advantage, brushing the steering wheel as if it were some grand joke.

“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered, trying to glance at the ghost, but he was hidden behind the seat.

“We could still go in Animagus form…” Sirius shrugged, frowning slightly at the subtle rocking of the car. “The engine noise is bloody annoying.”

“Maybe… that’s for the best…” Scarlett began, but then slapped herself across the face. She jumped at the sting, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Just sleepy,” she muttered, clearing her throat and shooting a glare at James through the mirror.

“C’mon, I’ve got it in reverse—hit the gas so we can get moving…” James continued, clearly enjoying the bizarre connection.

With no other option, Scarlett obeyed, steering with her right hand.

“Clutch…” he prompted, so she could shift into first. He beamed proudly as they finally rolled onto the road. “Scarmes at its finest!” he sang.

“Scarmes?!” Regulus grimaced.

“Jamelett is tacky!” he defended.

“They’re both awful,” Lily said, lying back in the boot with her face resting against Sirius’s seat. “I never thought I’d see you and Sirius like this again…” She met Scarlett’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Together.”

Scarlett chose to ignore the comment, keeping her attention fixed on the road ahead.

“Are we going the right way?” she asked, mustering a surprising amount of courage to get the words out.

Sirius turned in his seat, lying on his side.

“We are,” was all he said.

“Where are we going?” she pressed the clutch again, pretending not to hear James’s smug little laugh as he guided the gear shift.

“London.” Sirius began detangling one of the many knots in his elbow-length hair. “I need to see my godsons before we go after Wormtail.”

The mere mention of his godsons made Scarlett hold her breath, shoving down the overwhelming urge to cry. When she glanced at the rear-view mirror again, she noticed Sirius had turned into Padfoot, the dog’s grey eyes avoiding hers at all costs.

Sirius’s words hadn’t only struck Scarlett. The previous cheer drained from the car. Regulus stared off into nothing. Lily absentmindedly stroked Padfoot’s fur, and James’s grin vanished.

Rain began to drum against the car’s windows, and James flicked on the windscreen wipers. Scarlett couldn’t relax, knowing full well that by now they were likely being hunted by an army of Dementors—especially with the weather turning stormy. The sound of water pelting the car’s metal shell and the occasional rumble of the engine kept startling her.

After the first hour of driving, her legs began to ache. It was nothing compared to the pain she’d endured before, so she kept going. The rain grew heavier, forcing Scarlett to turn on the headlights even though it was still daylight.

“What do you think about stopping?” James broke the silence as they passed a hotel sign. They had to be close to England by now. “This rain’s only going to get worse, and you don’t look so great…”

Scarlett exhaled sharply. James switched on the indicator, and she turned the wheel, pulling up in front of a modest roadside hotel. Her palms started to sweat in the cold draft that seeped through the car, her heart thudding in time with the thunder that split the sky in flashes of light.

She stared at the hotel’s neon sign, catching Padfoot lifting his head at the sudden halt.

“Let’s give the rain a chance to pass,” Scarlett murmured, rummaging through her backpack for the food bars she’d packed. She took a bite and grimaced, offering it to Padfoot. He only sniffed it before laying his head back down on the seat, uninterested.

“Why don’t you get some rest? On a real bed?” Lily glanced at her, still trying to stroke Padfoot.

Scarlett abruptly opened the car door and stepped out, letting the rain drench her. James remained inside, the strange connection between them fading. The icy drops stripped away all the safety the car’s warmth had given her. Her dirty hair stuck to her face, her clothes instantly soaked through.

“I thought you wanted to see your son… as soon as possible,” Scarlett said when Lily followed her out.

There was a covered area nearby, but what was rain to someone who had endured so much? Scarlett didn’t care.

“I do. But it won’t mean anything if you crash this car and kill both of you! You’d be better off Apparating or using the Floo—”

“The fireplaces are definitely being watched,” Regulus cut in, stepping into the conversation, shielding his face from the ghostly rain. “And you can’t Apparate. I highly doubt Sirius can either.”

Lily pursed her lips at Regulus’s words, because she knew he was right.

“Just go get a room, Scarlett. There’s no way this hotel in the middle of nowhere doesn’t have one!” she snapped, hands planted on her hips in a distinctly maternal stance.

Scarlett opened her mouth to snap back, but a woman with an umbrella approached so quickly she barely had time to retreat to the car.

“Good evening, do you need any help?!” the woman asked, bending slightly and squinting through the downpour to see properly.

Scarlett’s blood froze. Her eyes widened, lips pressed tight, and she took a step back.

“Ma’am… Miss?!” the woman corrected herself, now holding the umbrella with just one hand. She began making odd gestures with the other.

Scarlett moved to grab her wand and hit the nosy stranger with a *Confundus*, but Lily was quicker—taking control of her left hand the same way James had done before. Scarlett gasped as her fingers began forming strange symbols, mirroring the woman’s.

What the fuck was happening?

“Grab the money from your wallet,” Lily commanded, her voice so close to Scarlett’s ear it felt like she was speaking from inside her skull.

With her free hand, Scarlett fumbled through her trouser pocket, pulling out her wallet and handing the woman a £100 note. The woman accepted the money, gestured a few more times, and then placed a key in Scarlett’s palm before walking away.

Scarlett and Regulus exchanged a look before turning to Lily.

“I told her you were deaf, that you needed a room for the night, and that you’d show your ID in the morning. She said there’s a vending machine in the lobby and that you could stay in one of the outer rooms since you prefer… privacy.” Lily pointed toward the more secluded units.

“Deaf, huh?” Scarlett still hadn’t entirely processed what just happened, staring at the raindrops bouncing off the key in her hand.

“Yeah, British Sign Language,” Lily shrugged. “I had a great-aunt who was deaf…”

“She should get out of this rain,” Regulus cut in, trying to place a hand on Scarlett’s shoulder, only for it to pass right through her. “Before she gets sick.”

Scarlett wiped her face, pushing away the excess water as she walked toward the room.

Inside the car, Padfoot watched her through the window, fogging up the glass with his warm breath. He didn’t quite understand what she was doing, but his tail thumped instinctively on the seat when he saw her moving away. His heart gave a hopeful flutter—maybe she’d found some tasty food.

He licked the cold glass to get a better view. Scarlett stopped in front of a door and began waving her arms.

“No, just because they’ve used my hand already doesn’t mean * you * get to as well!” Scar shouted, her muffled voice cutting through the rain and slamming into Padfoot’s ears with force. “I don’t care—you three are staying out here. Got it?!” She straightened her spine, glaring at nothing.

Padfoot flattened his ears and let out a soft whimper. Then she walked back to the car, soaking wet. She opened the door for him and motioned for him to come out. Padfoot bolted, taking shelter in the spot where she’d just been shouting moments ago. He looked around, checking to make sure she * had * been talking to herself.

Scarlett unlocked the room door and let him in before stepping inside and closing it. Though her face was drenched from the rain, Padfoot was certain she’d been crying. The scent of salt didn’t lie, nor did the faint sniff she gave as she walked into the small hotel room.

Her gaze swept over the double bed, the side table, the television, and the mini-fridge—the latter humming with a low, irritating sound. Padfoot padded after her, claws clicking softly against the wooden floor. When she vanished from view, his heartbeat quickened, and he followed her scent until he reached the bathroom door.

Padfoot’s ears perked at the sound of the shower turning on. He peeked through the slight gap in the door and watched Scarlett undress and step beneath the hot stream of water. He extended his snout, canine eyes tracing every inch of her.

Sirius leaned lightly on the doorframe, the bathroom light setting his silver irises ablaze with gold. There she was—the woman he had both loved and hated so fiercely. Beneath the cascade of scalding water, pale as the ghosts of their past, as colourless as all his fears. Her reddish-brown hair exactly as it had been the day he met her. The burn mark on her right arm. The Signet on her left hand. The tattoo of the star with glasses and the constellation of Canis Major on her back. The scars etched into her skin by the torture she endured.

It terrified him how easily she could awaken both the best and the worst in him. Sirius wanted to grab her by the hair and scream at her. He wanted to hold her and erase every single memory they shared. He wanted to rip that twisting, spiralling thing from his chest. He wanted to erase the fucking day they met.

If only they were strangers…

Scarlett bowed her head, pressed one hand to the tiled wall, and let her shoulders shake in silent sobs. Sirius dug his nails into the wooden frame, heart tearing open in his chest. The air grew thin. It was hard to stop looking at her—she was a magnetic force pulling his gaze. But it was even harder not to cry too.

He turned his body and leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the floor. Covered his face with both hands. It felt strange not to be alone anymore after so many years. More than that—it was tormenting to be in Scarlett’s presence. She was the symbol of his failure, the embodiment of all his demons, the other half of his mosaic. So many pieces of him were in her—and of her, in him.

The similarity between them was glaring—and so was the difference. Sirius was innocent. Even if he blamed himself for his friends’ deaths—he wouldn’t be a hypocrite and deny his share—Scarlett had killed the McKinnons with the Killing Curse. She had * wanted * to kill them. And Sirius… all Sirius had ever wanted… was to protect.

Protect the ones he loved.

He’d tried to protect Regulus. Scarlett. Lily and James.

In the end, it was all his fault. If he’d gone to meet Regulus… if he hadn’t let Scarlett walk away… if he hadn’t suggested Peter…

Sirius swallowed his sobs as he heard the shower shut off, quickly transforming back into Padfoot and sitting beside the door like a silent guard. Scarlett didn’t take long to come out, wearing a loose dress and tossing her backpack onto the bed.

“If you want to shower—”

Padfoot didn’t let her finish. He pushed past her straight into the bathroom. Sirius turned the water on and stepped under it without a second thought, the hot stream lashing against his shoulders and finally relaxing his aching muscles. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt something like that. Closing his eyes, he let the negative sensations and painful memories be washed away by the sound of running water. He barely remembered the injury in his hip anymore.

He swore he’d stay in there a decade, using up every last bit of the hotel soap. The water ran brown off his feet. He was filthy—especially his hair. He tried to shampoo it, but it was so tangled it hardly mattered. Letting the water cascade over him, he closed the drain and turned on the tap for the bathtub. The scalding water swallowed his feet, then his shins, until he sat down and hugged his knees, resting his chin on them.

He stared at his dancing reflection on the water’s surface. His thick eyebrows, corpse-like eyes, the heavy beard.

A quiet throat-clear came from the door, and he glanced sideways.

“I’m going to look for something to eat… do you… need anything?” As soon as their eyes met, colour rose to Scarlett’s pale face—realising he was fully submerged in the bath.

Sirius shook his head, instantly regretting it. She just stepped back and disappeared from the doorway. He inhaled.

“Scar!” he called, his voice echoing against the bathroom tiles.

Scar. Scar. Scar.

Why had he called her that? His heart skipped a few beats. Her face reappeared, delicate brows gently raised.

“Y-you…” he faltered, turning his face forward, digging through his chest for the courage that had once come so easily to him—and now was so painfully scarce. “Could you help me with my hair?”

She stood frozen in the doorway for a few seconds, as if she didn’t know what to do. Then she nodded, dropped her backpack to the floor and grabbed a chair from the room, setting it beside the porcelain tub. She pulled a brush from her bag and tilted her head slightly, as if hearing something only she could hear.

Scarlett lifted his hair from the water, casting a spell to keep it from soaking the entire bathroom. Then she used another charm to soften the strands as she began brushing the ends gently, working her way up little by little.

Sirius exhaled through his mouth. The only sounds were the dripping from his hair and beard, his reflection rippling on the water’s surface, and his eyes—watching Scarlett intently; analysing her, dissecting her.

“Thank you… for saving me in Azkaban. He was going to kill me.” It was she who finally broke the tension building in the silence between them. “You didn’t have a choice… either way. It was him or you.”

What was she doing—trying to comfort him? Sirius turned his face, but not toward her. He didn’t want to look. He’d rather she stay quiet, because her words stirred something rancid in his chest. Something he’d chewed on for years—sharp, bitter, and unforgiving.

“No choice? Is that what you told yourself after you killed the McKinnons?”

Scarlett’s breath trembled against his shoulder, warm and laced with hesitation.

“I had to prove my loyalty,” she said softly, her words brushing against Sirius’s neck. She shifted on the chair, her hands twitching. Her mouth opened more than once, as if she were trying to shape something coherent to say—but nothing came. Then she pressed her lips together in a thin line, cold tears sliding down her cheeks.

“For Reggie?” Sirius pressed.

He knew Scarlett. Knew her more than he wished he did—more than he * should * have. He knew full well she wouldn’t hand him answers easily. Like him, she was a hoarder. She loved tucking things away into the darkest corners of her heart until they festered into violent, irreversible wounds—until they began to kill her from the inside out.

And she wouldn’t fight it. It was far easier to let it eat her alive than face it. They nurtured their poisons with the same intensity they nurtured their love. Maybe that was why they were here now—wounding and sheltering each other like waves erasing drawings in the sand, only for new ones to emerge.

“I couldn’t risk his life… or let him become a test subject like Orfy,” she confessed, after a long, silent pause.

Sirius’s gaze drifted over the surface of the bathwater, trying to picture what she had gone through. But any empathy he tried to summon was tangled in everything she’d done to him—her betrayal. And that made it impossible to see things clearly, impossible to understand her.

Sirius would never understand her—let alone forgive her.

“You never liked Marlene,” he shot back, bitterness thick in his voice.

Scarlett sobbed.

“She was my friend too,” she whispered painfully, her voice barely audible.

“And you killed her with a Killing Curse,” Sirius went on, not giving her a second to breathe. Scarlett froze mid-motion, blinking rapidly, her breath caught in her chest. “I thought you hated her. Because we… were something.”

Scarlett stared at her rippling reflection in the water, her blue eyes hardening into icy spikes. But the tears softened that frost, loosening the tension and flooding her gaze with a thousand memories.

“At first, I did. But later… don’t you remember, Sirius?” Scarlett held his agonised gaze, the light flickering in her blazing irises.

Sirius let out a shaky breath, curling inward, hiding half his face in his knees and leaving only his eyes visible.

“They took so much from me,” he admitted, his voice as stormy as the rain still hammering outside. “Good memories. Anything that could’ve made me smile…” He hissed out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to cry.

“It’s not all bad,” she tried to console him, in the worst possible way. “The good memories… those are the ones that hurt the most.” Her voice fractured into a hundred broken tones, her eyes locked on his back.

In a barely perceptible movement, Sirius turned his head, meeting her eyes. His heart clenched violently, gushing pain through every nerve ending in his body. Her eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them. Scarlett touched his back and a jolt ripped through his core, shattering every doubt and igniting a dozen warm sensations behind his ears—ones he hadn’t felt in years.

“We did this one just after my parents died,” she said, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, never breaking eye contact. Sirius realised she was talking about the tattoo on her back. “I got Canis Major, and you… you got Sagittarius. My star sign.”

Sirius fumbled over the spot she indicated, searching for the shape with his fingertips. Scarlett took his hand, guiding it to the faint ridge in her skin. Her hand was soft and cold. Welcoming, and edged like glass. It was impossible not to drown in the blue of her irises, pulled under by her trapped sorrow, her ambiguous actions, her suffocating melancholy.

The air between them shimmered, sparked, crackled—as if unsure whether to push them apart or pull them closer. What hurt Sirius, too, was the fact that Scarlett had never met her son, not even after everything she'd done. Yet he didn’t look away, didn’t pull back from her touch.

“He was so, so small…” he whispered, helplessly dragged under the tide of those ocean eyes. “Reggie never cried much. Not even when his colic was awful or when his teeth were coming in…” A sad smile curved his lips. Scarlett’s features began to harden with tension. “He’s got greyish-blue eyes. Freckles all over his face—just like you.” 

Sirius’s gaze traced the markings on her skin, then returned to those dangerously deep irises. The ocean became rough, violent, waves crashing against him, slamming him into the cliff walls of her pupils, forcing him to resurface just to breathe. 

“His hair… like mine. Like… like * his*,” he corrected, stumbling.

Scarlett bowed her head, her hair dripping forward as she resumed brushing another section, fighting the sobs building in her throat. It was a losing battle—they both knew it—yet she clung to it, unwilling to expose any more vulnerability than she already had. Her face fractured in another wave of tears.

Sirius didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. Shouldn’t he be happy? That’s what he’d always wanted to throw in her face during those three years he’d raised Reggie, when he’d been the boy’s father. That she hadn’t been there. So why did saying it hurt so fucking much?

Seeing her like that had the same effect as tugging the strings of his heart until they snapped.

“I’m sorry.” His mouth betrayed him—but there was honesty behind the words.

Scarlett shook her head, trembling hands dipping his newly brushed, clean hair into the bath, clouding the water with grime once more.

“It’s fine,” she lied, rising to her feet. “I… I’ll go… find us something to eat.”

Like the coward she was, Scarlett ran.

Sirius felt like an idiot. She always had the power to make him feel that way—like a fool, even after doing the right thing. That was why he cried the moment she left the room, until the bathwater turned unbearably cold and reminded him of the presence of the Dementors.

.

.

.

Scarlett leaned against the wall outside, drawing in as much air as she could, the damp wind brushing against the raw skin of her cheeks. She stared at the curtain of water pouring from the roof ahead, spraying droplets across her face.

"Alright?" Regulus stepped through the rain, hands buried in his dark green cloak, his eyes shadowed.

Scarlett gasped, hugging herself.

"This is your fault." She hissed, rubbing the Signet furiously. "All of this is your fucking fault."

He licked his lips and gave that guilt-ridden smile, closing his eyes as if her words might physically wound him.

"I was just trying to protect you." Regulus kept his head bowed, unable to look at her.

"Protect me? You could’ve freed me long before this, Regulus!" she growled, the sob caught in her throat.

"And risk Orfy’s life?!" He lifted his gaze to hers, his irises gleaming with fury. "Risk Reggie?!"

"He was already at risk!" Scarlett jabbed a finger in his face. Regulus swatted at her hand in vain. "I was at risk!"

"I know, but… what did you expect me to do?! I… I was only seventeen, for fuck’s sake! I was trying to save you!"

"Oh yeah? And look where I am now!" Scarlett flung her arms open, her breath hitching. "I can’t even tell him the truth! You didn’t even let me leave..."

"Because you were all I had, Scarlett!" Regulus cut her off, tears making his eyes shine like stars. "You and Reg… you were all I fucking had."

Scarlett’s features twisted, a wave of disgust rolling through her. Regulus’s thin lips trembled, as though he were searching for a magic word that could undo every mistake he’d made, all the harm he’d caused, all the pain he’d inflicted.

But there was nothing he could do. Magic had its limits—especially for someone like him, just a damned and tormented soul. No god, angel, or demon could undo what he’d done to the two people he’d loved most.

And hated most, too.

"You’ve always had to take what belongs to your brother, haven’t you, Regulus?!" Scarlett spat, jaw clenched.

That was the nail in his coffin. Regulus only lowered his head, black hair falling over his face, hiding his expression. Scarlett didn’t need to see to know exactly how his lips were pressed into a tight line, eyes half-lidded, nose twisted. She knew him better than she wanted to, and hurting him was one of the few things that brought her some measure of comfort on that stormy summer night.

Scarlett genuinely couldn’t remember how she’d ended up at the small diner next to the hotel, where a telly mounted above the counter cast a harsh glow across the dimly lit room. She squinted to see the image, the presenter’s voice cutting through the low hum just as a massive photo of Sirius appeared on the screen.

“… the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”

Scarlett’s gaze shot to the clock. Only a few days since their escape, and it was already on Muggle telly?! Why had they only shown Sirius? Her questions were swept away by the sudden, gnawing hunger that hit her as the scent of frying oil wafted through the air. She glanced at the menu and decided to order the daily special.

The waitress gave her a funny look, but quickly plastered on a polite smile when Scarlett left a generous tip. She leaned her elbows on the counter, grabbed the takeaway, and tried to ignore how much her mouth was watering until she could finally eat.

When she got back to the room, none of her ghosts were waiting at the door. She stepped in and didn’t see Sirius. She left the food on the table and peeked toward the bathroom door, noticing he was inside, murmuring a few spells at his hair.

She didn’t need to call him—he came out the instant the scent of food hit his nose.

"Fish and chips?" He tore the bag open with more force than necessary, closing his eyes and groaning in pure delight as he bit into the first piece of battered fish. "This is the best thing I’ve eaten in my entire life..."

Scarlett gave in to a chip, feeling the crunch dissolve any lingering tension in her chest. It wasn’t long before her fingers were greasy, her eyes shut, savouring every salty bite of her meal. She even risked a small chuckle at the sight of Sirius looking just as entranced.

He cracked open his Coke and took a swig straight from the bottle, only to spit it out immediately.

"Didn’t remember it being that sweet..." Sirius grimaced, setting it aside. "And the fizz..."

"I’ve never liked fizzy drinks." Scarlett offered him her lemonade.

"You can have it." He pushed the bottle back to her.

"I’ll drink the minibar water." Scarlett handed the lemonade over again.

Sirius sighed, shrugged, and enjoyed the tangy sweetness of the green drink. Scarlett unwrapped the desserts, prompting Sirius to raise an eyebrow.

"By the way..." Scarlett didn’t leave him the chance to talk. "You were on the telly."

Sirius gave her a curious look before sniffing his dessert.

"I was? What d’you mean?" He picked up a plastic fork and held it politely, trying to figure out what it was.

"Strawberry cake." Scarlett tapped her fingers on the table. "Your favourite." She stared at the dessert. "According to the news, you’re armed and extremely dangerous." There was the faintest trace of irony in her voice, just enough for Sirius to furrow his brow, too engrossed in his cake to comment. "No mention of me."

Sirius chewed in silence, wiping the icing from his beard with his little finger before licking it. Scarlett gathered up the wrappers and dropped them into the bin without leaving her seat.

"Doesn’t make sense." He wiped his lips with a napkin, and Scarlett nearly laughed at how meticulously he folded it. "Unless… they just didn’t tell the Muggles you escaped too."

"Probably," Scarlett agreed.

The silence that settled between them felt odd. The lamp flickered, rain hammered the windows, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Sirius was now wearing a green T-shirt and a pair of white trousers that looked nothing like his style. He stood up and threw himself onto the bed, letting out a long groan as he rolled around in the sheets like he still had Padfoot’s instincts.

Scarlett gave a faint smile, folding her arms and pushing the chair back to prop her feet up on the table.

"Take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair." She let her head hang over the backrest.

"What?!" Sirius didn’t bother to hide the outrage in his voice. "It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before." He argued, a hint of cockiness colouring his tone.

Or maybe she was just imagining it.

Scarlett exhaled sharply, standing up in one go.

"Don’t complain later if I won’t get up..." She almost smiled as she flopped onto the bed, sinking into the plush mattress, clean sheets, and fluffy pillows. It felt like a dream.

"I won’t complain," Sirius replied, voice muffled against the pillow. "Just be careful… I’m armed and extremely dangerous."

Scarlett froze for a moment, turning to look at him to make sure it was a joke. Sirius, however, seemed to just shut down, falling asleep the second he closed his eyes. Scarlett couldn’t help but watch him—the calm expression he wore, the way his brow smoothed out, the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxing.

She didn’t allow herself to smile. Sirius never slept in Azkaban, and seeing him able to rest now sent a chill down her spine. 

Did Sirius feel safe with her?  

He shouldn’t.

Should he?

Scarlett brushed aside a strand of his hair that had fallen onto her side of the bed. The brittle, dried-out strands still carried a trace of softness—one Scarlett remembered well. She turned off the room’s light and stared at the ceiling, the lightning outside casting flashes across the curtains and projecting shadows onto her face.

Her gaze landed on the odd-looking remote on the bedside table. Scarlett picked it up and pressed a button that gave a soft beep and… nothing. She looked at the telly, then at Sirius. Nothing. Until a low hum began to fill the room, and she lifted her head, trying to locate the source of the noise.

Sirius, still in the exact position he’d fallen asleep in, suddenly woke. He gasped, looking around, his face pale in the dark.

"Dementor, dementor, dementor..." he repeated, searching for his wand, voice trembling.

"No, no, no..." Scarlett pressed the button on the remote again and grabbed his hands before he did something stupid. "It’s alright. It’s just the air con. There are no dementors here." She tried to soothe him, even as her heart hammered in her throat from the fright he gave her. "I’m here. I’m right here!" Scarlett clasped Sirius’s hands in hers, blowing warm air onto his trembling fingers.

He looked at her, his eyes adjusting to the dark. The silver in his irises shimmered—unsteady, volatile, shifting.

"We’re safe now." Scarlett said it with such certainty that Sirius simply accepted it.

Still breathing hard, he lay back down, sliding across the mattress to wrap an arm around her waist and press his face into her belly. She went still, feeling him stroke her left hand, tracing the Ouroboros with his thumb.

Scarlett’s whole body shivered, her breath quickened, muscles tensing. Sirius didn’t seem to care. If he did, he didn’t show it. His touch was warm—unbearably warm—and cunning. It set her soul alight. He could hear her heartbeat, her hesitation, her stiffness. She knew he could.

Sirius was cruel—so cruel that he never stayed away from her, even when he should have. No, he had to hold her like that, hide his face in her stomach, capture her dominant hand. If a dementor walked in, they’d be utterly defenceless.

"Do you want me to move?" he asked softly.

Scarlett didn’t understand. She knew he hated her—he’d made that perfectly clear. So why was he curled up on her like a boy seeking the safety of his mum? Maybe that was all it was. Maybe he just needed to feel safe, no matter who it was with.

"No," she whispered back, resting her head on the pillow, trying not to move, focusing on the rough pad of Sirius’s thumb brushing over her Signet.

It was just a touch, just a tender gesture, but it sent Scarlett’s mind spiralling into a whirlwind of jumbled, paralysing memories and impressions, devouring her sanity and her fears with a ravenous hunger. Scarlett wanted to dive into that feeling and drown in it, leaving everything behind; in a place lush and green where it was just her, Sirius, and no one else.

It was incredibly difficult to resist that dark hair. She managed during the first hour, while Sirius snored softly against her skin, radiating an unbearable heat. She was already sweating, and yet she couldn’t summon the courage to push him away.

He used to hold her like that when he was upset—fifteen years ago.

Before what happened.

Before… before everything.

Scarlett fell asleep running her fingers through Sirius’s hair, even knowing she didn’t deserve any of it.

She didn’t deserve love—least of all the love of Sirius Black.

.

.

.

It was easier for both of them to pretend that night had never happened, and that’s exactly how it went all the way to London. Padfoot behaved himself the entire trip, though he did try to nick Scarlett’s chocolate ice cream and pissed on the tyre of a motorbike he found appealing—to mark his territory, of course.

They ditched the car near the city. Scarlett used *Evanesco* on the vehicle, and it was bizarre to watch it vanish into thin air. Padfoot and Whiskers quickly took off through the packed summer streets—young people heading to clubs, families coming out of the cinema, adults off to the pubs. Padfoot couldn’t help but wonder what things might’ve been like if...

If...

No.

He shoved the thought aside as he read the nearby street signs, stopping only when he found the one pointing to Privet Drive. Whiskers followed close behind, walking quickly over the hot tarmac. Night had just fallen, the streetlamps flickering on automatically.

Padfoot halted as a scent hit him—broomstick and hair; sweet and floral, sparking something deep in the dog’s mind. A burst of laughter, bright and contagious. Padfoot wagged his tail, turning sharply to follow that scent, so familiar and yet so conflicting. He picked up his pace to a trot, sticking to the neighbours' lawns to spare his paws from the hot pavement.

He barked for Whiskers to keep up, turning onto Magnolia Crescent and darting down an alley beside a tall, barred wall. He ran and ran, then stopped dead at the sight of messy black hair, as wild as a bird’s nest.

Something twisted in his chest. Whiskers skidded to a stop beside him, ears perked. Padfoot stood frozen with excitement, his whole body flushed with heat, as if he’d just laid eyes on someone he loved deeply.

James.

The boy was hauling a heavy trunk, wand in hand. Padfoot wanted to approach, but Whiskers blocked his path with her body. He hesitated—long enough for the boy to narrow his eyes behind round glasses, peering into the dark alley.

He’d forgotten so many things. But not James. The memory of his friend lying lifeless at the foot of the stairs on Halloween threatened to rip his heart open, but Lily’s green, gentle eyes swept the thought away, making him step back. That wasn’t James.

It was Harry—his godson, James and Lily’s son.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, and his wand lit up. Whiskers shoved against Padfoot’s chest, but the dog was too big for her to move him even an inch.

Harry took a step back, tripping over his trunk and nearly falling. Padfoot startled, Whiskers hissed, and the two of them bolted down the narrow alley to the other side, panting hard just as the loud screech of the Knight Bus echoed from the next street over.

Padfoot and Whiskers exchanged a glance.  

Then they took off running again.

.

.

.

Scarlett rested her face against the cold walls of the corner house. She felt cold, despite the stifling heat of that London summer. A boy stepped out of the nearest house, headphones on, skateboard in hand. He glanced around before sitting on the stairwell’s ledge, gazing upward as if he might glimpse the stars from there—but the city lights drowned them out far too easily.

She didn’t realise she was rubbing her Signet over and over, nor how her heart was being crushed with every beat. As if the more she saw, the more that painful, infectious poison spread through her body, frying her tendons, burning her to the core. It was the longing for something she’d never lived, the ache for something she’d never held, the nostalgia for a head of hair she’d never kissed.

Regulus swung his legs in time with the music in his ears, until two girls appeared on the pavement. He waved to them, hopped off the ledge and skated towards them, drifting slowly away from Scarlett, turning into an indistinct blur.

Sirius caught her hand, stopping her from harming the Signet more than she already had. She didn’t cry anymore. All her tears were gone, leaving behind only the bitter taste of time she couldn’t reclaim, of sand slipping far too easily through her fingers, of years that would never return. Scarlett had never truly known Regulus. The wind whipped through her hair, across her cheeks, and through the narrow space between her and Sirius.

She lifted her gaze to him, feeling a tremor, a stirring inside her; like there was a hook caught in her chest, pulling her toward him. Blue met grey. There was no explaining how those silver eyes managed to pierce her soul, turn her secrets inside out, sink themselves into her sorrow.

"He looks so much like his father..." Scarlett breathed, her gaze drifting to Red, a little behind his brother. He didn’t even glance her way, lost in his own torment.

.

.

.

"You didn’t notice the fire until that moment, sir?"

James blinked, his peripheral vision catching the ashes gathered on the window frame beside him. His eyes darted to Sirius, being examined not far off, then to the Auror.

"No, it was... it was like... there wasn’t a fire at all," he said, throat dry. His stomach heavy, heart thudding in his chest.

His gaze landed on the tall, blond man who stepped into the house: Thanatos Gaunt. His shoulders were dusted with soot, his face a stone mask. Those caramel-coloured eyes locked onto James’s, shadowed with sorrow. A chill ran down James’s spine.

Nate gave the slightest shake of his head before closing his eyes.

James’s knees buckled, forcing him to lean against the window. Bile scorched his throat and he exhaled, covering his mouth with one hand.

James cried—softly—doing his best to keep Sirius from hearing.  

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXI

“… everything was calm. We didn’t hear a thing until… there was an explosion and the fire sprang up all at once. I woke and bolted the moment I saw the flames; they were already raging, and Sirius emerged from the smoke with Scarlett. I called to him—the heat was overwhelming, and so was the smoke…

"You didn’t notice the fire until that moment, sir?"

"No, it was... it was like... there wasn’t a fire at all,"

Silence. Sirius recognised that voice, but it seemed too distant to reach. When he opened his eyes, a yellow, diffused light dazzled his vision. He tried to shield himself from it, but a hand gripped his face and fingers forced his eyelids open.

He tried to move his right arm to break free, but he couldn’t lift it.

It wasn’t long before the light snapped out, and some voices whispered softly things he couldn’t comprehend.

His eyes burned, as did his throat and his entire respiratory system. He drank something that eased the pain but also made him choke. He hurled his torso forward, gasping heavily, as if he couldn’t breathe properly. His hair was plastered to his cheeks and someone called his name, though he could barely make out the words.

“Mr Black?!“ The baritone, precise voice made him look to one side, his vision gradually focusing on the tall, well‑tailored figure of a man in his forties. A notebook and quill hovered before him. “Is he all right?”

Sirius had no time to answer. A woman grasped his chin once more, and he shook his head, snarling to break free.

“He seems fine, but his lungs have been affected. I’ve managed to heal the first‑ and second‑degree burns. There’s still a third‑degree burn on his right arm.”

“I imagine injuries from cursed fire are difficult to treat.” The man turned his gaze to Sirius, whose consciousness flickered. “Mr Black, may I take your statement?”

Something sparked within Sirius’s mind and he made a movement as if to stand up, but a hand on his shoulder forced him to remain seated.

“James.” Sirius rasped hoarsely and searched for his friend with his gaze, noting they were in the Potters’ sitting room. James, a short distance away, hurried over, removing his glasses from his damp face and crouching before him.

“Hey, Sirius…” He forced a smile, though the deep shadows under his eyes stained his face and betrayed his tears. “How are you feeling?”

Sirius flared his nostrils, the smell of smoke clinging to them. He felt nauseous. He remembered the heat, waking in terror, carrying Scarlett with him.

Scarlett.

“Where…?”

“She’s fine.” James gripped his left hand firmly. “You needn’t worry, she’s safe.”

“James…” Sirius repeated his friend’s name with more gravity. “The Gaunts…”

He swallowed hard, his dark eyes never leaving James’s for an instant. James brushed a strand of hair behind Sirius’s ear before shaking his head, the smile fading in a trace of sorrow.

Sirius brought his hand to his mouth and James swiftly produced a bucket. He vomited, feeling his friend rub his bare, sweaty back — only then realising how filthy he was.

“It’s all right… it’s normal…” James repeated so gently that Sirius couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Tears streamed down unbidden. Sirius touched his right arm, bandaged with something cold and numbing. He looked at his own trembling hand, the fingers blackened with ash.

“James… I need to see her.” Sirius said, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Where… James, where…”

Sirius couldn’t finish the sentence. His mind drifted to a remote place where echoes threw off his balance and icy breaths sent shivers down his spine. He tried to move away, tried to run, tried to leave, but all his body could do was remain inert, allowing only his eyes to survey the surroundings.

The Potters’ sitting room. The wall clock swung its pendulum from side to side, people bustled to and fro, James rose and Euphemia brought him a glass of water. Sirius watched the clear liquid ripple, raising his gaze to the man seated diagonally across — Fleamont, running a hand through his dark hair as he stared out of the window.

Sirius sipped the water, pressing his lips together as the nausea returned. He bowed his head, resting it between his knees, gulping for air. It felt as though his throat were inflamed, constricting the oxygen and making it scarce.

“Mr Black?” the man called. Sirius summoned a tremendous effort to meet his gaze, the glass chilling his palms.

“What?” Sirius heard himself say, blinking incessantly as though it would clear his vision.

“Your statement.”

Statement? Sirius rubbed his eyes slowly, an infernal throbbing in his skull. Ah, yes — he should speak of what happened. What happened?

The smoke gave way to the fire, the fire gave way to screams, the screams gave way to Scarlett. Sirius’s sweaty fingers tugging at the window latch, trying to open it in vain.

“I couldn’t… get out.” He drank another glass of water, the coolness scraping his throat. He coughed.

“How so?” The man put his hand on his chin, the quill moving up and down.

“The window wouldn’t open.” Sirius replied, as if it were obvious. “I couldn’t Disapparate. And… Scarlett… Scarlett… where is she?!” He lurched forward, feeling a sharp pain in his ankle as he rose.

“Hey, hey, hey… steady on…” James wrapped an arm around his waist and the room spun faster; Sirius staggered and knocked the glass to the floor.

“It’s all right, dear…” Euphemia’s voice tried to soothe the adrenaline pounding in his chest.

“What do you mean…the window wouldn’t open?!” the man pressed, to Sirius’s dismay. “How did you all get out?”

“I… I…” Sirius gasped for air as if choking, casting a terrified glance at James. “I didn’t… I used… I blasted the wall…”

“Let him go upstairs; I’ll take his statement later.” Another voice cut in, one he recognised. Sirius looked over his shoulder, and it took him a few seconds to place the serious blond man behind him.

“Nate…” Sirius felt his body shiver. It was Scarlett’s uncle. “Nate…”

“I know.” He cut him off, placing a hand on his shoulder in a paternal gesture. “She’s upstairs.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say or think. James carried him up the stairs, and it was agony to use his good leg, for even it was sore. He braced himself with his other hand on the banister and stopped outside a room where several Healers bustled in and out, until they were alone.

“They had to put her to sleep.” James murmured, his voice strained as though on the verge of tears. “She wouldn’t stop screaming…”

Sirius hesitated before looking at Scarlett lying in bed. She still wore the same pyjamas from that night, though stained with soot and ash. Her right arm was also bandaged, her hair tangled and her face…

It felt as though the world had not ended. Scarlett slept with such placidity that Sirius wished to keep her like that forever, untouched by loss, distant from pain. James dug his fingernails into his waist without noticing. It hurt him too. Sirius wanted so desperately to protect Scarlett that seeing her safe was a relief, yet also a torment.

“What… what should I say?!” he asked, voice trembling.

James regarded him, frowning slowly.

“What do you mean?” he whispered, nostrils flaring.

“To her… what should I say to her?” Sirius panted, hand clenched on the doorframe.

James studied him for a long moment, his expression cracking with unshed tears. Sirius turned back to Scarlett, fighting to remain calm, to appear in control. None of his own wounds hurt as much as the thought of Scarlett’s agony when she woke.

“It was cursed fire…” James sighed deeply. “They stood no chance.”

Sirius’s ears rang. Cursed fire.

“What? It was… an attack?” Sirius squinted, consciousness wavering.

“It’s still… not confirmed yet,” James sniffed. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Put me on the bed,” Sirius requested.

The sheets clung to his clammy skin. He moved carefully, lying down beside Scarlett, his arm tucked beneath her cheek. James brought over a chair and sat, drawing his knees to his chest.

“Get some rest, Padfoot,” James brushed Sirius’s dark hair from his face. “You need to recuperate.”

“I can’t.” Sirius wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. “I can’t.”

“I’ll be here when you or Scar wake up,” James tried to reassure him.

Sirius shook his head. “I have to be here when she wakes… I have to…”

“She won’t wake just yet,” James said, wiping tears from his face. “Fancy a sleeping draught?”

“No.” Sirius let his gaze roam over Scarlett—her pale, ash‑smudged face, freckles barely peeking through, thick lashes. A sudden twitch of her cheek. The flutter of her closed eyes.

He didn’t want to sleep. He was good at keeping vigil—had done it countless times at Grimmauld Place when Bellatrix abused Regulus—hovering at the edge of slumber without crossing it. He could hear footsteps on the landing, voices downstairs, James’s ragged sobs.

He stayed like that for the first three hours, but by the fourth his exhaustion began to demand its due, and on the fifth he slipped over the border of sleep and blacked out.

.

.

.

The spiral of smoke stung Scarlett’s eyes. She reached towards the blaze, where a figure rustled amid the crackling flames. She could neither breathe properly nor see clearly through the tears and the falling debris. Yet she was certain it was Orfy.

“Orfy...” she whispered, using the last of her breath, her trembling fingers reaching, in vain, to touch him.

But the more she stretched out her fingers, the farther he seemed. Her vision began to fleck with tiny black dots, and she summoned all her strength to clench her hands around her wand, to try to disapparate, but her mind was shrouded by something colourless and formless; something that tasted of embers and metal.

Magic.

Scarlett tried to summon her ancestral magic, but Sirius was quicker and everything went dark.

She awoke with a shiver. The blinds barred most of the light, but pinpricks of brightness still forced their way into the room: glinting on the bedside table, on the varnished wooden headboard, on Sirius’s dark hair smudged with soot beside her.

He was asleep, his heavy breathing forming a soft snore. One arm tucked beneath his head, the other—bandaged—resting just above his chest. Scarlett blinked several times, her throat dry. She let her eyes adjust to the half-light and shifted carefully in the bed so as not to wake Sirius. Of course, it was in vain, for his eyes opened the moment the mattress dipped.

She hadn’t noticed the grime caked on Sirius’s face, nor how parched his lips had grown. He cleared his throat, and the hint of his voice echoed a hundred things through her mind: memories of fire and death, of screams and agony. Scarlett’s eyes flew open, her sockets brimming with tears.

Her lips trembled and she steadied her racing heart, feeling Sirius’s fingers entwine with hers.

“I... I had... a strange nightmare,” she admitted, though she knew it was but an illusion. She remembered the flaming lash on her arm because it was throbbing.

Sirius let go of her hand hesitantly, as if locked in an internal, chaotic battle. He moistened his lips, guilt shining in those starry eyes tinged with morbidity.

“Sirius...” she murmured, her voice cracked. “Orfy... my... my...”

Scarlett could not finish her words. The pain scorched her core as if a piece of her soul had been violently torn away; dulling her senses and making gravity feel heavier, so that breathing was laboured, thinking was arduous, and merely existing was exhausting. A knot closed in her throat.

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius murmured, placing his palm against her cheek.

A searing pressure lodged in her heart. Scarlett pressed her hand against it as if she could ease it, as if she could tear away the burning realisation that her parents and Orfy… that they…  

They…  

Scarlett gasped, recoiling from Sirius like a hiss.  

“That can’t be true… no… it just can’t be true, can it…”  

“Scar…” Sirius murmured softly.  

But she didn’t hear him, springing to her feet. She barely noticed the slight aches in her muscles, the fatigue in her body, the weight on her lungs. Sirius called to her again, but she ignored him as she left the room, her gaze wandering around the landing where she could see the ground floor of the house packed with people.  

Conversations fell silent the moment she came into view. Scarlett swallowed hard. She had always loathed being the centre of attention, but in that moment she scarcely cared, only now realising that she was in the Potters’ home. Her gaze inevitably settled on Thanatos, whose hands had slipped into his pockets and whose sorrow graced his handsome features.  

“Where are they?” her voice barely emerged. “Where are they, Uncle?”  

Thanatos remained motionless, averting her gaze as he shook his head.  

“They’re gone, Scar,” he replied, his tone gentle. “I’m so sorry.”  

Scarlett swallowed again, her chest hit by another searing, smouldering stab. She barely noticed herself hastening down the stairs in a frenzy, dodging the arms that tried to hold her back, her lungs protesting the sudden exertion.  

“Let her be,” Thanatos commanded.  

A blinding shaft of light streamed through the window by the Potters’ door. Scarlett flung it open, greeted by a gust speckled with ash and the acrid smell of smoke. She raised her hand to shield her face from the glare, her heart hammering in her chest, the sensation of fire licking her skin triggering her fight‑or‑flight instincts.  

Scarlett lifted her eyes beyond the shafts of light; the orange glow of the sun was fading, casting a stark shadow over her home. Over what remained of her home. The second floor was gone, and the wooden frame was blackened by the flames, soot swirling into the sky in a vortex.  

Her house had become ruins. The poppy‑filled garden no longer existed, the fountain melted by the heat of the blaze, and the garage seemed to be the only thing left relatively intact, perhaps because it was separate from the main structure.  

A desperate sob rose in Scarlett’s throat, escaping uncontrollably. She fell to her knees on the hot tarmac beneath the ash fall, her hands sinking into the filth her home had spat out. The ashes that had once been her bed, her room, her piano. She barely registered the members of the Ministry’s Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at work, nor the people standing behind her.

No word or pain could describe what Scarlett felt in that moment as she watched what had once been her home become the symbol of her family’s loss. It was as if every laugh, every happy memory, had been ground to dust and poured into an ashtray.

Scarlett screamed until her throat bled, until her vocal cords gave out, until her head throbbed and her vision became a hazy blur. Sirius knelt beside her, stroking her back, trying to soften the cruelty of reality.

“You… you should have let me go… run into the fire…” she sobbed through her tears. “You…”

“No.” Sirius cut in without a moment’s hesitation. “I would never… never let you.”

Scarlett reached up to Sirius, digging her fingers into his hair. He offered no resistance, allowing her to pull him until their faces were inches apart, her hot breath mingling with his, her furious eyes burning into him.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME DIE!” she screamed, her voice raw and strangled. “WHY DIDN’T YOU LET ME GO? I TOLD YOU TO LET ME GO!!!”

Scarlett delivered a fierce slap to Sirius’s cheek, yet he barely flinched, merely holding her gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, wiping away the last of her tears, those blue eyes looking exhausted and haunted, her lips trembling.

Gently, Sirius pressed his forehead against hers. Scarlett squeezed her eyes tighter, her shoulders shaking, though no more tears came. He slid one hand into her hair and the other around her waist, pulling her firmly against him.

She allowed herself to be held, her heart pounding so fiercely that he could feel every beat. Sirius tightened his embrace, letting Scarlett rest her forehead on his shoulder.

Without a word, he kissed the top of her head with tenderness. As the first stars appeared in the sky, he decided to carry her back inside, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankle, ignoring the stab of agony with each step, focused solely on quieting Scarlett’s relentless sobs.

James helped him ascend the stairs, and Sirius returned to the bathroom, seating Scarlett on the edge of the bath, her face swollen, her expression utterly desolate. He swallowed the urge to weep and drew a deep breath, turning to his friend.

“Could you fetch a couple of towels?” he said, regaining his composure. James nodded and slipped away, leaving them alone.

Scarlett didn’t have the courage to look at him, keeping her head bowed, arms wrapped around herself and trembling violently as though she were freezing. Sirius began to unwrap his arm, Scarlett could see the white bandage falling onto the light‑coloured floor mottled with soot. Then he removed his clothes.

“Lift your arms,” Sirius instructed, and Scarlett did so without so much as moving her eyes. He pulled off her pyjama top, then her bottoms, and unwound the bandage from her forearm.

She heard the shower start and felt the steam caress her skin. Sirius set her upright as though she were a doll, and hot water cascaded over her head, creating strange echoes, running into her ears and dripping from the tip of her nose. Her cheeks stung from crying and she pressed her swollen lips together.

“Close your eyes.”  

Scarlett obeyed, sensing Sirius’s warm fingertips gently rubbing the grime from her face. Then he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose and on her lips. She shrank, lowering her head to stare at her right forearm. The burn had turned into a raised, reddened scar crossing her skin and continuing onto Sirius’s arm.

“I’m going to wash your hair now, all right?”  

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as Sirius’s fingers carefully massaged her scalp. Scarlett’s whole body tingled, as if in that moment everything were right. Suds bubbled through her locks and Sirius allowed himself a small smile as he piled her hair on top of her head in a loose bun.

Scarlett half‑closed her eyes, startled by the laugh that reverberated around the bathroom walls. No sooner had Sirius’s smile appeared than it faded; water ran down his cheeks, plastering his dark hair to his shoulders and dripping from his long lashes.

Sirius touched the curve of her neck with the tip of his finger, then slowly trailed it down her breast and over her abdomen, until he slid his hand to her waist and drew her into another embrace. There was no malice, nor desire—this was a side of Sirius Scarlett wasn’t yet acquainted with; each touch was a gesture of care steeped in comfort.

Scarlett felt her hair loosen and tumble down her back as he rinsed it, the water sweeping the suds from her locks and washing over her skin. Sirius ran his fingers through the strands slowly, his nose resting against her forehead as he traced a gentle caress down her spine.

And she hugged him back, listening to Sirius’s heart beating in time with her own, breaking the silence of the bathroom and holding all her pieces together. Scarlett’s heart pounded so fiercely she felt numb, detached, in shock. She drew a deep breath, her chest contracting painfully as she exhaled.

Sirius turned off the shower and carefully wrapped Scarlett in a towel, pulling her into another tight, comforting embrace. Scarlett didn’t even reciprocate. He was soaking the entire bathroom, but he didn’t seem to mind, trying to offer her any sort of consolation in the warmth of that closeness.

He kissed her forehead and stepped into the shower himself. Scarlett remained standing, staring at her wet toes, her hair dripping onto the pale tiles, clutching the towel as if it were something very precious. Sirius emerged from the cubicle, a cloud of steam trailing him. He dried himself off and led Scarlett back to the bedroom, where she noticed something was different.

The bed had been made and clean clothes lay on top of it. Scarlett thought she was in her own room and believed everything was all right. But the ashes clinging to the window shattered her illusion, shaking her chest and tearing at the chords of her heart. The pain was so sharp and intense that she felt dizzy, dislocated, her mind striving to push those thoughts away as she tried to process what had happened.

“Raise your arms,” Sirius murmured. Scarlett didn’t hear him, too lost in her grief. In her melancholy. “Love…” He placed his warm hand on her shoulder. Scarlett stared at his reddened fingers, the dirty nails, the fine hairs on the back of his hand, the greenish trace of his veins winding along his wrist, forearm and biceps, the tips of his damp hair, his perfect lips, his sculpted nose… his starry eyes.

“What?” Scarlett whispered so softly that Sirius didn’t catch it.

“Raise your arms,” he repeated calmly.

Scarlett let the towel drop as she lifted her arms, feeling the nightshirt slide down her body, clinging to the dampness of her hair. She gasped, recoiling, as though with every beat of her heart the loss was being infused into her blood, coursing through her veins, muscles, tendons and organs.

It was as if reality wore a matte veil she could not penetrate—too distant to touch, yet close enough to graze its coarse surface across her skin, branding her forever with what had occurred. She looked once more at the scar on her forearm, unmoved when Sirius combed through her hair, murmuring apologies whenever a tangle tugged.

Scarlett didn’t open her mouth. It was as though she weren’t really there, as if the true Scarlett had plunged into the flames and this was merely her shell—hollow inside and motionless on the outside. She sat on the edge of the bed, her limbs tingling and her head buzzing. She punched her chest, sobbing, trying to quell the frantic burn piercing her.

Two light taps sounded at the door. Scarlett saw Sirius’s feet shifting in a calculated dance.

He placed a plate of pancakes, smothered in maple syrup, on her lap. Scarlett dropped her gaze slowly, lethargic, staring at her reflection in the amber pool. It looked like someone else looking back, a fissure of herself, a twisted, exfoliated fragment.

“You need to eat,” Sirius murmured, his bright silver-grey eyes narrowing, one hand resting on her knee, the other supporting the plate.

“I’m not… I’m not hungry,” Scarlett heard herself say, turning her head.

“You need to eat,” he insisted, glancing towards someone in the doorway.

“I’m not hungry,” Scarlett repeated like a scratched record.

Sirius sighed, brushing his thumb across her cheek. It was subtle, yet so attentive that Scarlett felt alive for a moment. But then grief swallowed every colour and meaning.

She lay back on the bed, moving as though each twitch required a monumental effort. It was as if the very air stung her with tiny needles at every shift—and none of those pricks was as intense as the one that stole her heartbeat and turned the air in her lungs into molten lava.

Sirius lay down behind her, his warm breath ruffling her hair at the nape of her neck, ghosting across her cheeks, drying her eyes.

“I’m here, all right?” Sirius murmured, holding her as if he could steal away her burden, as if he could fill the void left by her loss or, at least, pretend that everything was all right. Scarlett gave a slight nod, sobbing copiously as her tears returned.

Sirius threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing her brow and dabbing at her tears. But even that bright, glowing warmth embracing them was not enough to soften her pain.

Nothing would be.

.

.

.

As soon as the sun shone in the dawn’s iridescent sky, Sirius gently disentangled himself from Scarlett. He didn’t want to wake her—and, truth be told, given how soundly she slept, he probably wouldn’t. He eased out of bed and changed quickly, taking care not to make a sound. Slinging an empty suitcase over his shoulder, he slipped from the room.

Sirius made his way to James’s chamber. James was already awake… or perhaps hadn’t slept at all. He stared at the Gaunts’ house through the dusty window until he became aware of a figure reflected in the glass, watching him over his own shoulder.

“Hey,” James murmured flatly.

Sirius forced a smile but couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “You could…” he began, words catching as a sob threatened to break free. He cleared his throat. “…stay with her? I… need to go to the bank. It’ll only be quick—I might even be back before she wakes.”

“Of course I can,” James replied, licking his lips and turning fully to him. “Are you all right?!”

There was genuine concern in his voice—one that made Sirius’s heart clench. He loved James dearly, but he despised his timing.

“I am,” Sirius lied swiftly. “Thanks… for looking after her.”

James saw straight through him but offered only a rueful smile. “Anytime you need, Padfoot.” He returned his gaze to the window.

Sirius hurried downstairs and found Thanatos seated at the table, filling out an enormous parchment while puffing on a cigar. Remus sat beside him with a cup of tea but rose when he saw Sirius enter.

“Ah, you’ve arrived,” Nate said, nodding at Remus to follow him.

“Have you spoken to her yet, Sirius?” Nate asked, lifting his gaze through the curling smoke.

“She… isn’t ready to make any decisions,” Sirius replied, swallowing hard to steady his voice.

Nate merely exhaled, returning to his report. Sirius and Remus then moved over to the fireplace, scooping a handful of Floo powder.

They emerged in Diagon Alley, where the sun had not yet pierced the shop roofs nor touched the cobbled streets. They climbed the white marble steps of Gringotts, crossed the vast foyer, and halted before a goblin whose expression was as unfriendly as ever. Sirius sympathised—he, too, detested early mornings. He produced the key to the vault from his pocket; the goblin clerk beckoned him onwards to the subterranean corridors.

The journey in the cart was silent. Sirius was usually captivated by how deftly goblins manoeuvred the narrow-gauge tracks through the tunnels, but not today. Instead, he sensed Remus’s gaze burning into the back of his neck and deliberately kept his eyes fixed on the dimly lit passage ahead.

Arriving at his vault and opening it, he was met with countless piles of gold. His uncle had amassed a considerable fortune before his death. Sirius stared at the coins for a long while, unsure of what to do. Remus took the suitcase from his shoulder and opened it.

“How much do you need?” he asked, turning to his friend, the coins casting golden reflections on his face.

“A lot. It’s for a house in London, and that must cost a small fortune,” Sirius ran a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t look at the price?” Remus raised an eyebrow, resting his hand on his knee. “You haven’t even seen the house?!”

“I didn’t have time!” Sirius snapped, defensive. He crouched beside Remus and began sweeping Galleons into the suitcase.

“I know, it’s just…” Remus helped him, hauling the case free with great effort. “You’ve not said a word until now.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Sirius gestured to the goblin, who charmed the case and loaded it onto the cart.

“Mate, it was in the paper,” Remus dropped his voice. “They’re saying it might have been the Death Eaters.”

Sirius put his hands on his hips, exhaling sharply as he looked at Remus.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.” They resumed their seats in the cart.  

“When will you want to talk, then?!” Remus sounded irritated, his face shadowed with concern. The full moon was nearing.

Sirius’s response was silence for the entire return journey. He changed all that gold into Muggle money and descended the marble steps; the sun now slanted across the floor, and a few shops were beginning to open.

“Sirius…” Remus’s hand clenched on his shoulder, forcing him to halt midway down the Floo landing. “Stop suffering in silence!”

Sirius gripped the strap of the suitcase between his fingers, grinding his teeth to suppress everything he’d been through. He shot a sharp glance at Remus, flaring his nostrils.

“I’m not suffering in silence,” Sirius hissed, shoving Remus with his free hand. “I’m holding the reins of the situation and… being the strong link.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Pads!” Remus grabbed the collar of his T‑shirt. “I’m here, I’m your friend, for fuck’s sake!”

Sirius exhaled slowly in a weak, bitter laugh.  

“I need to be strong for her,” he said, rubbing his face, fighting back the urge to cry. “I can’t fall apart—not now, not when she needs me. Because I’m all she has left and only I can gather her pieces. Maybe I won’t succeed, maybe everything I’m doing is in vain and she’ll keep hating and blaming me, but I have to try.” Sirius thrust a hand into his hair, scratching fiercely. “Scarlett… she showed me the best side of love and never gave up on me… not even when I was a right arse and…I…I…I need to be strong, Remus, so I’m going to pack everything I feel into a coffin and bury it in my chest, and maybe one day—someday—I’ll allow myself to feel what I ought to feel. But not now. She needs me.” He spoke without pause, gasping for breath.

“Sirius… that isn’t healthy,” Remus whispered, still holding him.

Sirius spread his hand out and took a heavy step back.  

“Healthy…” he muttered mockingly. “Do you know what would be healthy, Remus? Not losing your bloody family to arson!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, the words echoing off the still-closed shopfronts of Diagon Alley.

“I’m not talking about her—I’m talking about you! You can’t take on the whole world and pretend everything’s fine, you can’t shoulder all that weight by yourself! It won’t do you any good!” Remus raised his voice in turn, standing tall. He was taller than Sirius, yet it still wasn’t enough to intimidate his friend.

“I’m not a selfish bastard like you!” Sirius accused, pointing his finger at Remus. “And I’m no coward who thinks the answer to everything is pushing away my friends!”

Remus let out a strangled laugh—not one of joy.  

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms. “Pushing away everyone who’s trying to help you!”

“You want to help me, Remus?!” Sirius forced his expression and voice into control to keep from breaking down. “I need a house with five bedrooms, a garage, a garden… the living room has to be big enough for a grand piano and…,” he panted, his body stiffening as he expelled the urge to weep, “a music shop nearby. And it has to be in London.”

Remus furrowed his brow, utterly taken aback.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll go and look at that?” Remus approached him, gripping his shoulders.

Sirius nodded.  

“Tomorrow, we’ll go and look.” Sirius repeated, as Remus embraced him. He pressed his lips together and wrinkled his nose, battling against the tears that threatened to prick his eyes.

He pulled himself together swiftly, forcing a smile as he turned back towards the Floo grate.

.

.

.

Thanatos Gaunt settled into his armchair, watching the colourful sprites dance across the television screen.

Regulus, perched on the sofa, had his eyes glued to the newly purchased Mega Man 6, lips parted and barely blinking.

“Be careful… the floor’s going to catch fire…” Nate warned, sipping his blackcurrant rum.

Regulus maintained his dazed expression, all his concentration focused on manoeuvring his fingers over the Super Nintendo controller’s buttons. Nate took the opportunity to sift through the pile of mail, skimming the letters with disinterest as he scratched at his greying goatee.

“This boss is a nightmare…” Regulus muttered during the battle with Flame Man.

Thanatos raised his eyebrows when he saw that the Hogwarts letter contained more than he’d anticipated.

“Reg…” he called to his nephew. Regulus paused the game and turned to face his uncle. “You’ve been appointed a prefect this year… congratulations.” Nate offered a proud smile and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Top of the class, eh?”

Regulus beamed from ear to ear as he took the letter from his uncle, slightly incredulous, especially after all the pranks he’d pulled alongside Luana. But he was easily one of Slytherin’s best students in his year, despite the Potions Master’s disdain and his slip‑ups in Divination classes (which he particularly loathed and had no intention of attending in his fifth year).

“Your father was a prefect too.” Thanatos resumed sipping his whisky, crossing his legs.

“Yeah, I know.” Regulus’s smile vanished, the telly casting vivid colours across the freckles on his cheeks.

“Your uncle told me what you did,” Nate said, growing serious as he swirled his glass. “He wants to have a word with you…”

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Regulus huffed, unpausing the game and pretending to be too busy defeating Flame Man to continue the discussion.

“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter, young man.” Thanatos replied condescendingly, which only made Regulus glare back at him and see Mega Man immolated by the boss.

“You’ve lied to me all these years!” he retorted, his voice rising. He threw the controller onto the table as he stood.

“It wasn’t that important…”

“It wasn’t that important to tell me that my mother loved my uncle and not my father?!” His voice drowned out his great‑uncle’s.

“Reg…” came the warning. “She’s dead.”

“I know she’s dead! I’m reminded of it every bloody day!” he panted, tossing his hair back and striding to the fireplace.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m going to see my uncle. I don’t want to be caught between… the two of you.” Regulus spoke the last words with remorse. “I don’t know what happened between you, but… it’s pathetic watching you both pretend everything’s fine.”

Thanatos squeezed the glass, his knuckles whitening. Regulus knew he’d struck a sore spot for his great‑uncle, the failed relationship with Remus. Nate exhaled, closing his eyes.

“Sometimes… no matter how much you love someone, no matter how hard you try to make it work… it’s just not enough.” He moistened his lips, downing the contents of the glass in one. He cleared his throat. “I think that’s what happened with your mother and Uncle Sirius.”

Regulus clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He grabbed the Floo Powder and left his great‑uncle without a reply, appearing at Remus’s house.

No. At the house that was his too, because originally that home belonged to Sirius…

And he was Sirius’s heir, therefore the house was his.

The kitchen light was on, as was Remus’s bedroom. Regulus walked down the dark corridor, the yellow glow bathing him as he knocked softly on his uncle’s door. His gaze invariably halted at the entrance to the next room… Sirius’s room.

Regulus pressed his lips together.

“Come in, Reg.” Remus’s voice drove him from those thoughts. Regulus pushed the door open with a creak and saw his uncle seated on the bed with a book in his lap. “How are you?”

“I’m struggling to get past Flame Man…” he murmured, a hint of irony in his tone.

Remus smiled, closing his book gently, and motioned for him to sit in the desk chair. Regulus obeyed, but the light atmosphere between them quickly grew tense.

“I received my Hogwarts letter today… I’ve been appointed a Slytherin prefect.” He offered a shy smile.

“Congratulations, Reggie. You deserve it, and… on that note…” Remus leaned back against the headboard. “I’ve been appointed Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.”

“What?!” Reg couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Seriously?!”

“Yes, really. That’s what I wanted to tell you at dinner…” Remus’s smile vanished, weariness etching his features. “Listen, Reg, I never meant… to lie to you.”

Regulus hugged the back of the chair, resting his chin on it.

“Then why lie? Why always avoid the subject of my parents? I know about the war… I know what she did… it’s just that…”

Remus’s gaze was fixed on his nephew, but then it drifted far away, to a time when he’d been frightened and alone, when everyone he loved was imprisoned or dead. He shuddered; his mouth went dry, and it was hard to swallow.

“We were friends, you know that… all of us. Me, your mother… Sirius… Peter, James and Lily…”

“Potter’s parents…” Reg muttered acidly.

“Yes, Harry’s parents,” Remus scratched at the scar on his chin. “Scarlett… loved playing the piano. She could sit on the stool for hours, playing one melody after another… she was brilliant at Queen, Pink Floyd… but what she truly loved was playing Toto.”

“I know, I have all her Toto tapes…” Regulus said with an uneasy smile, not taking his eyes off his uncle.

“There was something I dare say she loved more than playing the piano…” Remus blinked several times, as if trying to recall something just out of reach. “It was Sirius. They loved each other dearly, Reg. It was an intense love, a burning… overwhelming love. We couldn’t see it at first because we were young and naive, but… oh, they were in love, they loved each other so much that they destroyed themselves.”

Regulus raked his fingers over the wood of the chair, listening eagerly, remembering the photograph of Sirius and his mother kissing passionately. But then… why wasn’t Sirius his father?!

“They fought because of your father.” Remus continued, as if reading his thoughts. “Scarlett… thought she could save him. From the Death Eaters. She left and never came back and, a few weeks later, married your father… some said they’d been together the whole time. It affected your Uncle Sirius deeply, not just psychologically but during the war… he nearly died searching for her.”

Regulus looked away. He’d heard a great deal about his mother from his uncle Orfeu and, even knowing most of it was lies planted by the Death Eaters, Orfeu always insisted how treacherous and vile she was. His heart tightened at the thought that maybe he was right. Why would she do that to Sirius?! Especially if they loved each other so much…

“Shortly afterwards, you were born. You were premature, so you needed special care. Peter, Lily, James and I took turns helping Sirius with you. It was a difficult time because… he already had issues with drinking and after Scarlett left, it got much worse and then you arrived and… Sirius was broken. Desolate. And then came his betrayal and…” Remus’s eyes filled with tears. “It made no sense, because Sirius and James were inseparable, they could speak with a look. But you were his priority, Reg and… I don’t know, I… I think… that he did it because if Voldemort won, Scarlett would be set free and then… and then you might have a family…” He buried his face in his hands again, sobbing quietly.

“So… it was for my sake?!” Regulus asked, his mouth twisting in disgust.

“No! That’s not what I meant…” Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Sirius was so impulsive and… maybe… maybe he… I… I don’t know, Reg,” he confessed, fixing those brown eyes on Regulus. “The war changed everyone. We were forced to grow up overnight.”

Regulus tapped his heel against the floor, anxiously. “Did it change my mother too? What was she like before the war?”

Remus stared into the past, his pupils reflecting a hundred bittersweet memories.

“She changed after her parents died and Orfy was caught… in the fire.” He shifted on the bed. “She and Sirius moved in together not long after… Reg, your mother was… besotted with Sirius. Back at school, he outshone everyone. He always loved the limelight, the centre of attention, and he was… suffocating. And Scarlett was utterly blind for him. She would have done anything for him… even if it meant getting herself expelled. It’s not as if she cared much back then… after losing her parents, she became very withdrawn. She suffered a great deal. And Sirius was equally mesmerised by her… he was the one who convinced us to take Scarlett to the McKinnons’ before… before it all, before Marlene’s uncle was murdered and before everyone became Secret Keepers. I didn’t suspect anything at the time because Sirius was so affected by Marl’s death, but… I suppose… I suppose he was a very good actor, because…”

Silence. Remus stifled a sob, pushing it away, running a hand through his brown hair shot with white. He was eighteen years younger than Thanatos, yet he looked every bit his age.

“What do you think he’s after? Sirius? My mother’s dead, so…” Regulus struggled to voice those harsh words. He was still reeling from so much information. He knew of his parents’ friendship, but had no idea of the details, let alone his mother’s love for his uncle.

It was unfair to have remained in the dark for so long, and Regulus couldn’t hide the hurt from Remus.

“I don’t know, Reg… honestly… I don’t know. I fear he might come after you… or Harry…”

“Why would he go after Potter?” Reg snapped.

“I don’t know… maybe… because he’s the Boy Who Lived…”

Regulus felt his chest swell with jealousy.

“What do you think of that? His escape…”

Remus shrugged, licking his lips. “Part of me wants him caught… to make him pay… another part still can’t believe what he’s done.” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at nothing for a few seconds before climbing down from the bed. “Come here, I want to show you something…”

Regulus followed Remus out of the room, stopping beside him in the corridor.

“Your uncle was a brilliant wizard. He set up an entire security scheme in this house because of you… not everyone who entered here had access to your room, only a select few. He devised an enchantment that conceals certain rooms from outsiders. Almost a Fidelius within a Fidelius…” Remus flourished his wand. “Totus Occulta.”

A door appeared between the studio and Sirius’s room. Regulus ran his fingers along the doorknob, glancing at Remus as if to ask permission. Remus nodded.

“When your mother married your father, your uncle placed her belongings in this room before it became yours, and he kept it like that even when you came to live with him.” Remus crossed his arms as Regulus opened the door, revealing a room much like Sirius’s, albeit with boxes piled in one corner and a few childish items in another.

He walked to the small table where several photographs of Scarlett and Sirius stood. There was one in particular of him kneeling, opening a small box, asking her to marry him. Regulus picked up the picture, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took in his mother’s joyful expression.

“When she was imprisoned… the Ministry left this box of her things with your uncle.” Remus tapped the box on the bed. Regulus looked at him. “That’s why you saw nothing of theirs before… before you rummaged through the attic. Sirius left everything… everything that reminded him of her here. Except the drawing‑room piano.”

Regulus returned the photograph and stepped forward to the box at the edge of the bed, lifting the lid slowly. Inside was a miscellany of items. He pulled out a golden pocket watch and, upon opening it, found a photograph of a child sticking out their tongue. He sifted through some clothes, nudged an iron orb aside and noticed two glints at the bottom, picking them up.

Two engagement rings. One set with a black diamond and small brilliant‑cut diamonds. The other with a ruby and tiny diamonds along the band. He glanced back at the engagement photo and saw which ring came from the box: the one with the black stone. His gaze lingered on the ruby ring; he slipped it onto his little finger, where it fitted perfectly.

“Did she love him?” Regulus looked up at Remus, who watched him silently from the doorway. “My father… did she love him?”

Remus sighed. “I… I don’t know, Reg. They were very close friends… she called him Red, that was the… special nickname she gave him. But…” He drew in a steadying breath. “I think only she could have told you that.”

Regulus clenched the black‑stone ring in his palm until it hurt. He would never know. Scarlett was dead. He made a frustrated sound as he nodded.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXII

The idea of leaving Scotland, going to London only to head straight back to Scotland was bloody stupid, but it was hard to think straight after more than ten years in Azkaban. Whiskers was already tired of racing across the open fields and through the forest, especially since Padfoot was slowing down by the minute and looked utterly exhausted.

They kept pressing north until Padfoot stopped, panting and wobbly. He settled himself among a tangle of thick roots, which made a perfect bed.

Whiskers let him rest and set off to hunt, followed by a spectral Prongs. At one point, James appeared, peering around with curiosity.

“I reckon I’ve been here before…” he muttered to himself, casting light into the gloom so that the cat could see a large rabbit hiding beneath the undergrowth.

She managed to catch the creature with relative ease thanks to James’s help, returning to Padfoot and dropping the prey before him. She nudged it with her paw as she backed away.

Padfoot turned his snout aside, ignoring her with a low whine.

Whiskers’ shadow stretched until it became a woman. Scarlett sighed, gripping the straps of her rucksack with both hands and gazing up at the leaves, lightly tinged yellow, above them.

“What’s up? You haven’t eaten all day…” Scarlett crouched, resting her arms on her knees as she stared at him. The dog avoided her gaze. “Hey…” She reached out her hand, stroking his matted fur. Padfoot cowered, licking his flank. “Go on, you can eat it; there’s a spare bar left…”

Padfoot sneezed and barked, reluctantly sinking his teeth into the rabbit.

“Don’t bark at me!” Scarlett pressed on. “I know you’re injured. And in pain. Do you want me to take a look or…”

He snarled as he ate, intimidating her with his pale eyes.

“You’re feeling rough, aren’t you? It’s not rotten food—it’s the fourth day, and you just seem to be getting worse.” She straightened as she stood.

Padfoot paid her no mind, too occupied with his dinner. Scarlett huffed and opened her rucksack, munching on one of the bars—foul-tasting—as she sat on a root, her eyes never leaving the dog.

Sirius was a prat, and that stubborn streak was far worse in his canine form… or perhaps he was just as bloody stubborn as a dog.

“Sirius…” she called. Padfoot wagged his tail but didn’t even turn to look at her. “Sirius, this is serious.”

Scarlett drew her wand from her pocket, and Padfoot truly trusted her—he barely moved. She waited until he’d finished eating and immediately forced him to shift back, the dog’s body stretching until the man appeared, unsteady and bewildered.

“What the fuck, Scarlett?!” he ground out.

“What the fuck do you mean, I should ask you!” she shot back, pointing her wand at him, impatient. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

Azkaban hadn’t been kind to Sirius; yet he looked worse than he had there. Deep shadows ringed his eyes, and an intense pallor had washed over his drawn face, stealing whatever colour remained from his lips and leaving them trembling.

“I’m fine!” Sirius rolled his eyes, waving his hand as though begging her to drop it.

“You look bloody awful!” Scarlett shot back.

“I spent twelve years in Azkaban; awful is still bloody brilliant!” he retorted, running a hand through his hair impatiently.

Scarlett lunged at Sirius with astonishing speed, gripping his pale throat so swiftly he didn’t have time to react, lungs gulping air, eyes wide as though she were about to attack him.

“You’re burning up with fever!” Scarlett snapped, prompting him to jerk away roughly.

“Don’t… touch me!” Sirius growled, pressing a hand where Scarlett had touched him, as though wounded. He blinked, lethargic, breathing irregularly. “Leave me alone.”

“Sirius… let me see!” Scarlett lowered her voice, as though tending to an injured pup.

He shook his head, twisting his features, unable to meet her gaze.

“It’s nothing, for fuck’s sake…” he muttered, pulling away.

He moved so slowly that Scarlett easily caught up with him, cornering him against a massive tree trunk. She clenched her fists, a strange worry lodging itself in her chest.

In truth, that worry had always been there—especially when she was certain they’d force her to kill him. Since they’d fled Azkaban, however, the feeling had lain dormant only to wake sharp and poignant.

Why were her heartbeats racing and her pupils dilating? Her mouth had gone dry.

“Come one, Sirius! It’s your waist, isn’t it?!” Scarlett insisted, unembarrassed as Sirius’s shadow enveloped her silhouette, tall and indistinct.

“I’m fine!” Sirius wrapped his arms around himself, closing his features as he looked up at the wind whispering through the trees. “It was… stupid. I’d kept a vial of poison, and when you used that spell on the veil, it shattered… but… it was just glass.”

The shadows of the leaves danced across his face, the muscles of his jaw standing out as he clenched his teeth. A bead of sweat glistened as it ran from his sideburns to his beard.

“Pull your trousers down.” Scarlett ordered, still holding her wand. It didn’t take long for him to register her words, and a wicked little grin tugged at his lips.

Her cheeks burned. It was as if, for a second, they were teenagers.

“Are you sure?” Sirius asked, though he didn’t show it openly—Scarlett knew he was enjoying this.

“Oh, Sirius, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before!” She slipped her wand into her pocket, crossing her arms and rolling her lips in contempt.

“You spent fifteen years without seeing…” Even weakened, he continued the teasing, swollen with pride.

“Sirius!” Scarlett scolded him.

“Okay… okay!” Sirius grabbed the waistband of his trousers and lowered them just enough for Scarlett to see dark veins snaking across his iliac bone, which jutted out sharply from his thinness. Her gaze slid aside against her will to where his dark hair trailed from his navel down to…

“That looks like tentacle venom…” Lily, a little behind her, remarked.

Scarlett jolted, her hand flying to her chest.

“Got you frightened? I thought you’d seen it before…” Sirius taunted in his lazy drawl, earning Scarlett’s withering glare.

Why was he acting like that?

“Shut up,” Scarlett muttered, hauling his trousers back up with more force than necessary.

Sirius didn’t take his eyes off her for a moment, sending her heart racing.

“Sirius’s luck is that the venom isn’t very concentrated; the bad news is that if it isn’t treated… he’ll die,” Lily said so calmly that Scarlett blinked, stunned. She rubbed her eyes. “You’re going to need to brew an antidote.”

“It’s tentacle venom, Sirius,” Scarlett murmured. “You need an antidote.”

“What?!” He almost shouted. “That’s not fucking funny, Scarlett”

“I’m not joking.” She tried to sound serious, but her cheeks were burning and she could barely meet his gaze.

Sirius grew sombre, narrowing his eyes at her as the wind tossed his dark locks over his pallid face.

“I’m not going to die because of some bloody stupid venom after surviving twelve bloody years in prison!” Sirius sniffed, wiping sweat from his brow with the collar of his shirt. “How exactly are we meant to make the antidote?”

Scarlett looked to Lily, who was stroking her chin in thought.

“Assuming you can’t get a mandrake any time soon… dittany, lavender essence, blind-worm mucus and pink-pod spores. We’ll need a cauldron. The good part is most ingredients can be foraged… ” Lily flicked her red hair over her shoulder. “The bad part is getting hold of a cauldron.”

“I need a cauldron,” Scarlett said to Sirius, exhaling. “Where are we?”

He lifted his gaze to the clear sky, orienting himself by the stars. Strands of moonlight filtered through the leaves, caressing his ashen cheeks, thick beard and long hair, turning his silver eyes to platinum. Scarlett would never grow used to his beauty, even in his cadaverous thinness and ghostly pallor.

“We’re coming up on the Scottish border now.” Sirius lowered his eyes to her, swallowing hard.

“Coming up on the border?” James, standing a little way off, cast his light between Sirius and Scarlett as he stepped between them. “Hold on… ask him where exactly…”

Scarlett crouched and pulled the map from her rucksack, unfolding it and using Lumos to illuminate their route.

“Show me on the map.” Scarlett turned the paper towards him and Sirius thrust his trembling finger where it read: Kielder Forest.

“There’s an Order hideout here!” James peered at the map beside his friend as though he could actually see it. “Padfoot and I were there on one of our missions—he’ll remember it!”

Scarlett moistened her lips, thinking what to say.

“You’ve never been here before, have you? On your… missions… or something?” she raised an eyebrow nonchalantly.

Sirius stared at her doubtfully, his sunken eyes probing the recesses of his mind. Then he pressed his lips into a thin line and slowly shook his head. “I… I don’t… I can’t remember.”

Scarlett looked at James, then back at him. “It’s all right. We’ll manage…” She tried to infuse confidence into her words, but there was a pang of desperation too.

“Bloody hell, I escape that Azkaban hellhole only to…” Sirius ran a hand across his face in frustration. “Why can’t things go right for… two fucking minutes?!” He leaned back against a tree trunk with a sigh, staring up at the canopy.

“I think I know where the hideout is.” James removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Scar, it’s this way…”

“I’m just off for a piss; be right back…” Scarlett announced, hesitating before she shifted. “You’d better stay in Padfoot’s form for now.”

“If you need anything, shout.” Sirius barely registered what she said.

Scarlett transformed into Whiskers and darted after James, who was now in Prongs form. The stag moved gracefully through the forest, and Scarlett followed its ethereal glow. The warm night breeze ruffled her whiskers and soon they halted in a small clearing, where the moonlight flooded in, brushing the grass with silver.

“Use Revelio…” James instructed, scanning for the hideout.

Scarlett drew her wand and cast the spell; the magic swirled around them in a blue-tinted shield, radiating out until it struck something nearby and revealed it with a subtle flash. They exchanged glances and Scarlett reached out to touch the glow, but James halted her with a gesture. “It’s protected. You won’t get in.” He slid his glasses up his nose, hands on his hips.

“Then why the hell did you bring me here?!” Scarlett exhaled, uneasy.

“Sirius was in the Order, he’ll probably manage…” James shook his head, as if it were obvious. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think?!” Scarlett didn’t spare the irony in her tone, but she had to swallow the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, regarding her with such pity that Scarlett felt sick. She loved James—she always had, even after she walked away—but damn, she hated that look of his. And he’d given it so many times that she simply stopped telling him things. She hated feeling like a poor little thing.

“There must be… cauldrons in there. Or something similar… can’t you conjure one?” he asked softly.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen a cauldron that I’m not even sure what one looks like… I don’t want to risk being attacked by some unknown object if the conjuration goes wrong.” Scarlett gave an awkward smile, rubbing her hands together. “I’ll call Padfoot…”

James only nodded, remaining where he was. Lily soon emerged from the trees and he embraced her tightly. Despite trying not to show it, he was holding back tears. Seeing his son for just a moment was enough to freeze his legs and open a wound in his heart that would never heal.

Lily stroked his tousled hair, choked with nostalgia at having Harry in her arms, singing to him, putting him to bed. Why was he out there in the street like that? Just thinking about it…

She’d truly hoped Petunia would be good to her son. She’d never met her nephew Dudley—the war had prevented it and, even before she died, she knew her son might fall into his aunt and uncle’s hands. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so tragically… because, whoever Sirius was, he’d loved Harry with all his heart and been a faultless godfather.

It hurt so much to see him and not even be able to touch him or tell him how much she loved him…

James wiped the tears from Lily’s cheeks, kissing her gently. “He needs to be cleared…” she murmured. “Harry… and Reg…”

“I know.” James held her close. “And he will… but… what about Scar?”

Lily sniffed, seeking the gaze of the man she loved so much, those hazel eyes that left her enraptured.

“We’ll hound her until she comes round… and at least tells Harry how much we love him.”

“I think he already knows that.” James smiled, tucking a red lock behind her ear.

“It’s never too much to say you love someone.” She smiled too, pressing their noses together. “I love you.”

James closed his eyes. The moonlight washed over them, pale and dancing, giving the impression they were one.

“I love you too.”

They parted when Scarlett appeared with Padfoot, who promptly turned back into Sirius. He looked very weak, though he hated to show it. Colour drained from his face and his eyes seemed heavy; sweat dotted his forehead.

“How did you find this place?” Sirius opened the door and for a moment Scarlett saw nothing. Gradually, however, the cottage revealed itself: the moss‑covered stone walls, the simple wooden door, the tall chimney.

Sirius plunged into the darkness of the house and Scarlett hesitated.

“I… sniffed it out.” She bit her lower lip as she stepped in, spotting Sirius’s silhouette holding his wand with Lumos alight at the end. “I think there’s a bit of, er, ancient magic in here…”

Sirius didn’t seem to doubt her—if he did, he showed no sign of it. The cottage comprised only one room besides the bathroom. It was devoid of furniture, and the fireplace bore a huge scorch mark climbing up to the roof. In the corners, rubbish was scattered, and Sirius hissed at the sight of the filthy floor.

“It’s less unhealthy to sleep out in the woods than in here.” He grumbled quietly, the Lumos glow rendering him as white as a ghost.

“I’ll sort everything…” Scarlett opened a window to let in some air. “Accio cauldron!”

A small cauldron flew towards her, spinning relentlessly. Scarlett was struck square in the chest, her back slamming against the wall as all the air whooshed from her lungs. She coughed several times, hearing Sirius’s footsteps moving towards her.

“You alright?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“I’m fine…” Scarlett murmured, a whip of pain lancing through her ribs. She forced a smile through the grimace. “Really… I’m fine.”

“It’s small but it’ll do…” Lily said, her head poking in through the window into the room.

Scarlett gave a startled jolt, dropping the cauldron then snatching it before it could fall again with uncanny dexterity. Sirius frowned, raising a hand before his face as though the Lumos light was beginning to irritate him.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Sirius’s mouth tightened into a crease. “That’s the second time you’ve been startled like that…”

“Nothing.” Scarlett replied so softly he only understood because he read her lips. She began to wave her wand, using Evanesco on the rubbish and enchanting the remains of a broom so it swept the excess dirt outside.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Scar.” Sirius’s voice was thick with hurt, but also regret. “No one will ever hurt you like that again.”

Scarlett fixed him with a stern look, her eyes wary. A doubtful crease formed slowly on her brow.

“I thought we’d moved past that.” She gathered her hair in her hands and tied it back. “Making broken promises.” She looked at him again, now with coldness.

Before Azkaban, Sirius had a ready answer for everything. That Sirius was gone, as light as dust in the wind; the stupid, frivolous, arrogant youth had been ripped from his core, leaving behind a man haunted by too many ghosts and too little courage.

Scarlett lit a few candles and conjured a bed, gesturing for him to lie down. Sirius felt profoundly uneasy about the situation; he hated being the weak link, especially with Scarlett making him feel like a helpless child. With a weary sigh, he lay down without hesitation.

The mattress wasn’t as good as the one at the hotel, but it was a damn sight better than a heap of roots and leaves. Scarlett spread a blanket over it and slid her rucksack under his head to serve as a pillow.

Scarlett’s auburn-tinted strands fell loose, brushing his shoulders and lightly grazing his face. Sirius caught a lock of hair between his forefinger and thumb, the flame from the candles glowing on the strands until they gleamed copper.

“You cut your hair,” Sirius murmured, trailing his fingertips across the dark strands. He’d expected Scarlett to drop her gaze and blush, but instead she fixed him with an impetuous look, her eyes piercing his like silver forging into gold.

Sirius’s heart hammered in his chest. Scarlett took his hand and, for a moment, he was certain she was going to force him to let his hair fall. Yet all she did was drink him in with her gaze, her cool fingertips stuck to his sweaty palm. He felt a figure bend over him and press a kiss to his lips—a reflection of a long-ago day when she’d tended to him just the same.

Scarlett’s gaze roamed over his face, lingering on his mouth. She let out a weak, sour laugh before abruptly stepping back. Sirius remained lying there, staring up at the wailing shadows on the ceiling, his heart pounding in his ears.

He ran a hand over his sweaty face; his head was heavy and his body limp. Lost in thought, he wondered if this was the fevered dream of a dying man in Azkaban. It made sense, in a perverse way—perhaps it was all the invention of his delirious mind and he was still trapped and hallucinating.

It was almost ironic, a touch perverse, that he’d broken out with the only person in the world who made his blood fizz with hate and hallucinate with desire. He gasped, clutching the blanket between his fingers; a whirlwind of emotions caressed his cheeks, clawed at his chest, whispered indecencies in his ear and slapped insults at his very core.

No matter how much he denied it, Scarlett still held immense power over him. He was just a mortal man who’d suffered for love, who’d never stopped thinking of the woman disguised as a succubus who’d abandoned him with the same fervour that had tamed him. The woman who had forced him to care for her son, that mixture of hate and love, the boy he’d so desperately wished was his own.

He was so dazed that he barely noticed the air wheezing in and out of his chest, nor the sweat that plastered his hair to the nape of his neck; or the gentle night breeze drifting in through the half‑open window. He felt horribly ill and exhausted, but he wouldn’t succumb to sleep—not until Scarlett returned.

If only there were a charm to make him forget her just as the Dementors had dissolved his memories…

Sirius jolted as he heard the door open, only now registering the sound of drizzle outside. The ajar window spattered icy droplets against his arm and he rubbed his eyes, sighing. Scarlett raised her wand and ignited the space beneath the cauldron, seating herself with her legs crossed sideways towards him.

Scarlett shot him a worried look and he nodded, as if to say he was all right. She worked the cauldron with adept hands, as though she hadn’t spent fifteen years without touching one, murmuring incantations he couldn’t quite catch.

She was talking to herself. That much was certain. A fact Sirius deliberately chose to ignore. Scar may not have lost as many memories as he had, but just imagining what she must have endured all those years in Azkaban…

Sent chills ran down his spine. His eyes kept drifting to Scarlett, against his will; she drew his gaze so effortlessly that resisting felt futile. The dance of candlelight on her skin was hypnotic, her blue eyes shifting to a purple hue. It was slightly unnerving how she’d scarcely aged—there wasn’t a single wrinkle at the corners of her eyes, on her cheeks, or on her eyelids.

She was the same Scarlett he’d loved and cared for, whom he’d hurt and lost. As if they were still seventeen with a whole life ahead of them. Yet her eyes betrayed her age; there was suffering in them. Always had been, to tell the truth… but never so intense, nor so deep. It was rooted in her, just like her melancholy and introversion.

Scarlett ladled the potion into a vial and filled a bottle with water using Aguamenti. She extinguished the cauldron, allowing thick smoke to slither across the floor as she crossed to Sirius.

“Can you sit up?” she asked, placing the water and potion in a corner of the bed, her expression solemn.

Sirius wet his lips, the salty tang of sweat coating his palate. He pulled a face. He could sit up, but he didn’t want to, so he simply shook his head.

Scarlett exhaled and crawled onto the mattress, rolling Sirius onto his side. He let himself go slack, making her task far more difficult when she slid her arms beneath his chest and hauled him upright, his back resting against her torso.

With a weary sigh, Sirius allowed himself to rest his head on her chest, drinking in her hair as the sharp scent of belonging stunned him. Scarlett’s breath brushed against his forehead and he hesitated before opening his eyes, staring at her in the suffocating silence.

“You’re freezing,” Sirius murmured, shadows dancing across Scarlett’s face as the candles flickered.

“You’re the one who’s burning up, Sirius,” she replied, holding the vial of potion in one hand while her other arm wrapped from his shoulder to his waist. “Drink.”

He grimaced as the foul potion rasped down his throat, making him want to be sick. Then he gulped down plenty of water, letting the antidote settle in his stomach. It felt… strange to be in her arms like that. He sensed something that even her presence in Azkaban hadn’t conveyed…

Safety. So sublime and sure that Sirius gasped when Scarlett laid him back down on the bed, the same sensation that had hit him when he’d embraced her at the hotel. He hated it, hated Scarlett for making him feel that way, and hated himself even more for allowing it—and for liking it.

Scarlett had been a Death Eater, had murdered the McKinnons… why… why couldn’t he stop loving her? The hate was there, stabbing at his heart, but so was the love. He never knew he could feel both so intensely, assumed they would cancel each other out. In that moment, they were simply two sides of the same coin.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, pulling him from that spiral of conflicting thoughts. “There’s still a bar left…”

Sirius’s mouth watered. It was true he’d eaten a rabbit in Padfoot’s form, but it hadn’t nearly been enough—for a dog, let alone a man.

“I’m not eating those revolting bars,” Sirius grumbled, curling up under the blanket.

Scarlett allowed a small smile to escape, pulling one out of her rucksack and chucked it onto the bed.

“Eat,” she commanded in that authoritative tone. Sirius flicked the bar off the bed with his fingertip, listening to it clatter on the floor. Scarlett drew in a steadying breath. “Sirius…”

“Scarlett,” he shot back, never taking his eyes off her, enjoying a rather privileged view as she bent to retrieve the bar.

“I’m not going out to hunt in this bloody rain…” she said, putting the packet back on the bed and thumping the mattress. “Come on, eat up.”

Sirius clenched his jaw, twisting his lips as he peeled back the metallic wrapper. He sniffed it and then licked the bar, making a face.

“What is that black stuff?” he bit carefully, waiting for an answer before he chewed.

Scarlett hugged herself and Sirius noticed that she was soaking wet from the rain.

“Something you hate a lot,” Scarlett said as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Eat up.”

Sirius regretted taking the bite, but forced himself to chew, ignoring the bittersweet taste. He pushed himself to eat the lot, drinking more water once he’d finished.

“Raisins and prunes are still abominable even after Azkaban,” Sirius remarked with a smile. Then he grew serious, his eyes widening little by little.

“You can smile, Sirius. There’s no Dementor about.” Scarlett kicked off her shoes and lay down, far enough away not to touch Sirius, and simply stared at the ceiling.

Sirius stayed motionless, his face turned towards her, Scarlett’s withdrawn figure and bare form taking on his shadows.

“I know,” Sirius murmured. Scarlett rolled her eyes at him without moving her head. “It’s just… hard…”

Sirius still felt disoriented, struggling to believe they’d escaped. He knew there were no Dementors here, that he wasn’t in Azkaban, yet something lodged deep in his soul still made him believe he was trapped. A fleeting stain that had burrowed so deep into the fissure of his mind after all that time incarcerated that… it seemed impossible to shake.

The candle flames crackled softly in resonance with the gentle rain outside. Scarlett’s eyes absorbed the trembling, yellowish light, her blue becoming tinged with orange.

She exhaled fully through her mouth.

“I was still bleeding,” she murmured softly, her voice wavering.

Sirius watched, rapt, as her neck muscles tensed and her jaw jutted out when she pressed her lips together.

“I… when I was arrested… the anaesthetic hadn’t even worn off properly yet,” Scarlett closed her eyes as if trying to contain something stronger than herself. “The trial… I replayed it in my head so many times… I forgot what your eyes looked like. I wanted so much… so much to tell you about Reg, I… I couldn’t, Sirius. I was too weak. They… they wouldn’t even let me see him… I didn’t… even hold him…” A tremor cut off her breath.

She placed her hand against her chest, clenching it there as if she could excise the pain tearing at her heart. Sirius didn’t want to cry, but Scarlett’s words seemed to dampen his eyes with ease.

“I wanted you to die.” He drew in a breath, massaging his throat, trying to ease the pressure there. “But when I saw you on that stretcher… drenched in blood… holding my hand… begging me to save your son… I…” He swallowed hard, fighting back a sob. “I regretted it.”

“I wanted to die.” She admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Scarlett covered her face with her hands, her chest convulsing in unwanted sobs. Sirius didn’t dare look away—there was a grim satisfaction in seeing her cry like that, feeling how deeply it pained her, just as it had pained him. It was as though the scar she’d left on his soul was being cleansed by her tears.

It was a relief, in a way, to realise Scarlett wasn’t the psychopath he’d so feared, but simply a frightened girl swollen with grief. She remained his mirror image, his other half—the piece of himself he was at once ashamed of and fiercely proud to love.

“In Azkaban, I found out… it was Selwyn who tortured Orfy. And I made her pay…” She sniffed, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand, her gaze fixed on him.

Sirius didn’t know whom she meant, so he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue, but she only averted her eyes; the firelight flickering orange across her youthful features.

“He looks like you.” She pressed the Signet into the mattress with force. “Regulus.”

That was a low blow. So low that Sirius felt a lone tear slip from his eye like a falling star, tracing a line across his face, over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek until it vanished into the blankets.

“He used to call me Daddy.” Sirius licked his lips, meeting her gaze, allowing himself to be exposed. Scarlett had a knack for that—stripping him bare, leaving him raw and vulnerable. “I didn’t want to, but… James insisted, saying I was his father all the same… and I…” He rubbed his eyes. “I wanted to take Regulus’s place just as he had taken mine.”

Scarlett’s brow furrowed, her lips trembling as though on the verge of speech. She hesitated, curling in on herself, her eyes drifting into memories.

“Peter… what do you intend to do with him… when we catch him?” Scarlett’s blue eyes locked onto his, ominous and unyielding.

Sirius twisted his lips as a bitter tang stained his palate. Peter Pettigrew. He clenched his fists and ground his jaw as hard as a vice, half his face shrouded in gloomy shadow, the other half bathed in the warm glow of the candles.

The grey of his eyes deepened until it was leaden.  

“I’m going to do what I should’ve done when I first found that bastard,” Sirius let his anger speak for him, his voice darkening with each word. “I’ll avenge James and Lily’s deaths. I’m going to kill him.”

Scarlett raised her eyebrows, as if doubting his words. Sirius watched her throat move as she swallowed, blinking and gathering her thoughts.

“Don’t do it, Sirius,” she pleaded.

“What?” Sirius huffed, frowning.

“James… he wouldn’t want you to.” Scarlett’s lower lip trembled, fear flickering in her eyes.

Sirius flared his nostrils and his eyes grew wide with exasperation.  

“Yes, but James isn’t here, is he? And do you know why?” He raised his voice with every phrase. “I’ve killed once before—I can do it again.”

“Killing a stranger is… different from killing a friend,” Scarlett said so honestly that Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Marlene was innocent. Peter is guilty!” Sirius snapped, his gaze razor‑sharp. “He… he…”

“Do you think you can live with the weight of his death, Sirius?” Scarlett cut in, her voice barely a whisper.

The candles crackled softly. Sirius exhaled noisily through his nose.  

“More than I already live with the weight of James and Lily’s deaths?!” he panted, each word cracking, each tear threatening to fall.

Scarlett shook her head.  

“It wasn’t your fault, Sirius.”

“It bloody well was.” Sirius answered swiftly, feeling a sudden heat. “I was the one who suggested Peter—me…”

“And James agreed!” she replied, sorrow tinging her words, undeterred by his anger. “He agreed.”

“Yes, but if I… if I…” Sirius stammered, the air growing thin. “If I hadn’t…”

“Sirius…” Scarlett spoke his name so gently that he clenched his teeth.

“It was all my fault. You left, Reg died… I pushed Remus away, I… I killed James and Lily and…”

“No, Sirius…”

“I remember…” Sirius pressed on, ignoring her protest. “The arguments. I was drunk all the time. I hurt you, Scarlett… so many times… I knew I was hurting you and I kept going—I deserved to be alone. And yet, despite everything, you loved me. And I…” Sirius laughed, not in joy, tears spilling as he covered his face with one hand. "I would’ve left too, if I were you."

Scarlett was crying too.

Sirius and Scarlett had so much in common.

Pain was one of them.

Sirius let the emotions pour from his chest—coloured sparks and morbid shadows; a latent, fervent whirlwind brimming with regret and passion, everything he’d buried in his heart over twelve years of imprisonment: the deaths of his friends, the suffering inflicted by Dementors, the slender thread of hope that had kept him sane, the agonising choice between killing or rescuing Scarlett from that inferno.

They were all his facets, his reflections in a shattered mirror, his dark and cursed mosaic. The Sirius who gained and lost, the Sirius who loved and hurt, the Sirius who ended up alone when all he’d ever wanted was to protect those he loved.

Fault. That was what he’d always been—from the moment he was born, from the moment he’d grown up. His father had always told him he was a defective piece, something that not even the purest blood could redeem: a stain on the sacred Black lineage, so ancient and hallowed that it was already rotten.

Sirius Black clung to Scarlett as if he were falling and only she could save him from the inevitable plunge. He knew, however, that she was the anchor around his ankle and would make that fall all the more painful. Yet he didn’t let her go—he dragged her with him over the dark, vertiginous cliff, drowning her alongside him in his secrets and fears.

Scarlett stroked his hair slowly, numbing Sirius with the subtle gesture, sending shivers through his entire body. He was sweaty and still feverish; she was cold and trembling. Sirius inhaled the soft notes of Scarlett’s vanilla perfume. He knew it was all in his head—it was impossible for a scent to cling so strongly after fifteen years.

Yet, just as the perfume seemed present, so did the Scarlett he’d loved. And that only made him cry harder, soaking the dark blouse she wore, trying to speak when he could not, trying to squeeze her neck with the same violence he longed to kiss her. Scarlett had always been like this—she’d always awakened his demons with ease, made him feel so at home that he couldn’t be anyone but himself.

Sirius’s sobs took a long time to subside. Years and years of pent‑up feeling had been eating him from the inside. His chest was so battered now that it throbbed painfully from so much crying. Sirius’s fingers tangled in the fabric of Scarlett’s blouse, pulling her close, forcing her to hold him.

Sirius’s gaze travelled along Scarlett’s arm, watching the candlelight dance across her pale skin, her dark hair flowing like water, her clear eyes deep and enigmatic. He blinked several times, allowing his vision to focus on her heart‑shaped face, the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, and her lips pressed into a sad smile.

“‘You’re freezing,’” Sirius murmured hoarsely. He tugged the blanket over her, burying his face in her chest until he could hear the rapid beating of her heart, that organ which had once slipped so easily through his fingers.

Was Scarlett’s heart still his?

“I got a bit wet in the rain searching for the potion ingredients,” she said, her voice resonating against his ear in her ribcage. Sirius didn’t dare look at her—not when he felt so comfortable there. He could kill her as easily as possess her.

He ran his hand down her back, feeling the protruding bones of her spine beneath his fingertips. Azkaban had been unkind to both of them. Scarlett’s pulse gradually slowed, growing accustomed to Sirius’s presence, though it still beat with the same exhilaration he shared.

He drew in a deep breath, summoning every scrap of courage he had, and slowly lifted his gaze, plunging into the two clear blue pools of her eyes.

“It was Halloween,” Sirius began, pressing his face against her before pulling back slightly to look at her. “I… went to check on Wormtail, to make sure he was all right. But he wasn’t at the hideout. I panicked… there were no signs of a struggle. I grabbed Nancy and…” He gasped, feeling Scarlett press him tighter, her warmth scrambling his senses. “When I reached Godric’s Hollow, the Potters’ house… it was… in pieces.” He sobbed, though no tears fell. “Hagrid… was standing outside with Harry. I ran in… desperate… and…” Sirius began to hyperventilate, trying to banish the memories, the shock. “I chased after them… found James on the stairs… and Lily…”

Sirius felt Scarlett’s cold palm against his cheek and closed his eyes, intoxicated that he had shared this with someone—and that someone was her. He had dwelt on it far too long in Azkaban.

“I went after him. It was… it was easy. Wormtail… he couldn’t shake the tracking charm I’d placed on him. He was hiding in Muggle London… I didn’t even think to draw my wand when we started arguing… he blew up the street and vanished, fleeing into the sewers with the other rats… a dozen Muggles killed… their remains scattered everywhere…”

Scarlett brushed his tears away and Sirius felt overwhelmed by everything surging in his chest. He was spent not only from the poison but also from finally letting it all out, from sharing that pain with someone. No… it wasn’t just anyone. It was Scarlett. One of the reasons for his misery, his unhappiness, his misfortune. The girl with flowers in her hair who had carried him to heaven and abandoned him in hell. The woman who left him astonished and enraged.

The personification of his ruin, in body and soul.

“I need to kill him. For them… for all the time I spent locked up…” he looked at her again, sniffling. Even in the low light, he saw the blue of her irises darken, harden and draw away.

Sirius felt fear bubble in his body, sending shivers down his spine. He didn’t recognise this Scarlett, and seeing her sharp reflection was a little frightening. She’d let him see her murderous side—cold, bloodthirsty. The Scarlett who’d killed Marl.

“So you’ll have your revenge,” she said, her words slipping coldly from her pale lips and sliding into Sirius’s hair like serpents.

Sirius had never been afraid of Scarlett. Not like this. His whole body stiffened, every spark of warmth drained away. His touch grew tense. Fearful.

Scarlett shattered his rigidity by pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. It was quick enough that he had no time to react, yet slow enough for a hundred sensations to flood him anew: laughter echoing in his core, sweet words whispered at his nape, warm caresses on his shoulders, along his collarbone, behind his ear.

“Sorry…” she murmured, as if she’d just done something wrong. “Old habit.”

The warmth returned as though the sun itself were gilding his skin, not the flicker of candlelight. Sirius was so intoxicated by the edges of those memories curling at his fingertips that he could do nothing. He clenched his fist, trying to grasp them, trying to reclaim them: three, two, or perhaps just one. His fingertips pressed into the fine mesh of memory and it exploded; vivid, bright, impetuous.

Sirius entered the room only to find it empty. The bed lay under a tangle of blankets, the table untouched and the wardrobe closed. He went to the bathroom, his heart stuttering when he saw she wasn’t there. He took a step forward, then froze as he noticed a slight movement under the covers.

He closed his eyes and exhaled before walking to the bed, lifting the layers of fabric slowly. Whiskers lay curled in that blanket cave, her blue eyes opening gradually as light seeped into her hiding place.

“Hey… kitten…” Sirius murmured, scratching at her neck. She purred in response.

The cat stretched lazily, yawning as she lengthened. Bit by bit she shifted back into her human form, her face red and swollen from crying. Scarlett looked visibly shaken; the pain etched in every line of her expression. She barely had the strength to stand and instead settled to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry…” she whispered, voice trembling, unable to meet his gaze. “I just can’t… I can’t deal with it… when I’m in Whiskers’ form it’s… it’s easier…” She hesitated, hugging herself. “The pain… isn’t so intense.”

Sirius curved the corner of his mouth, soothing all those frightening feelings away before they could surface.

“I’m… I’m being a burden. To you,” Scar continued, her long, wet lashes fluttering. “I… I’d understand if… if you…” She seemed to summon every ounce of strength to say the words. “If you wanted to end it. You… you should live your life… be happy… with someone else…” She mouthed the last word silently.

It was as if every one of Scar’s words drove a nail into his heart. He clenched his fists, his shoulders quivering with tension and fear. It was terrifying to see the woman he loved in such pain, as though nothing in the world could make her feel happy again, no matter how hard he tried. There was no glue or fitting that could mend all her shattered pieces scattered across the room…

But Sirius would not give up. He was stubborn, masochistic and hard‑headed; not the sort to turn his back on love, however bitter it might be. And he loved Scarlett… loved her fiercely… she was the very air in his lungs, the pulse that drove his heart; she was his waking thought and his last before sleep, his other half, his girl, his rock.

Sirius forced Scar to meet his gaze by cradling her damp cheeks in his hands, refusing to accept those words. His eyes met hers, trying to pull her from that erratic stupor, from the destructive spiral she was trapped in, dragging her from the stormy sea of her own sorrow.

“Scar… listen to me,” he murmured, steady and certain. “Love doesn’t evaporate when things get tough. And my love for you… it only grows stronger. I’m here with you, Scar, every step, every moment, no matter how fucking rough it gets. You will never, ever be a burden to me.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers like he was sealing every word with a promise. He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, so close that their breaths mingled. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not. We’ll get through this, through the pain, no matter how long it takes. You are more important to me than anything. Do you understand?”

Scarlett only nodded, tears still streaming down her face, her eyes heavy with guilt and remorse. Sirius kissed her forehead, pressing her to his chest, holding her so tightly he could almost suffocate her. Scarlett didn’t mind; she buried herself in him as though trying to steal a little of his composure for her own, seeking relief from the pain. Sirius’s love was intoxicating, almost the only thing keeping her anchored amid her overwhelmed thoughts.

How could she not love that dimpled grin, the ebullient laughter, the starry eyes, the insufferable cheek? Sirius Black was everything Scarlett had longed for. And life, while taking with one hand, gifted with the other.

“I love you.” She declared against his T‑shirt.

Sirius smiled, lost in the scent of her hair.

“I love you too, kitten.”

Sirius awoke as dawn brightened the sky, flooding through the window crack with blinding light. He looked around, momentarily believing himself still in the Potters’ bedroom, searching the bed for Scarlett. She was no longer there, though the memory remained fresh in his mind, in the kisses they had shared, in the words he had spoken with such fervour.

His lips tingled. He touched them slowly, intoxicated by the sweet sensation swelling in his chest. Something was blooming in his heart; delicate and intense. Sublime. Skittish. Breathless.

“Sirius…” Scarlett stood against the light, her face merely a silhouette surrounded by the blaze invading the small Order of the Phoenix hideout. “We need to go.”

The antidote had worked; at least she was much better.

Still drowsy, Sirius caught her wrist in reflex. Scarlett’s pupils widened in surprise, her pulse racing. A pinpoint throb struck his own heart and the silence echoing between them sent an inexplicable tug through their gazes.

He knew she felt it too; it was imprinted in the flecks of green in her irises, concealed with such effort beneath her eyelids, veiled by a layer of dissembling.

“Please…” she pleaded, closing her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Sirius released her, struck by those two blue eyes turned into stakes. Cold and sharp. Scarlett touched the place where Sirius had held her as though wounded, retreating back into that dark, stinging, silent place within herself.

The song of birds filled the chasm between them. Sirius looked to the ceiling beams, doubt gnawing at him from within.

Certainty as well.

Fifteen years apart hadn’t been enough to kill what they had.  

Nothing ever would.

.

.

.

It was easy to find an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express when Regulus stepped aboard with Remus and Victoria. They’d arrived early, mainly because his uncle was feeling rather worn out. They wasted no time settling into one of the carriages, but just after Regulus had stowed the trunks on the luggage rack, Gemma Farley appeared in the doorway, eyeing Remus as though he were a mangy cur.

“Black, Rookwood… fetch your prefect badges, get changed into your robes and meet me in the first carriage. We’re holding the prefects’ meeting there.” Despite the smile on her face, her tone had a decidedly condescending edge. The Slytherin girl brushed her Head Prefect badge against her chest, spun on her heel and left them.

Regulus glanced at Victoria, who merely shrugged, then looked to his uncle. Remus gave a wan smile, his scar‑marked face drawn with exhaustion.

“Off you go; it’s not as though I’m exactly the best company right now…” he smiled, giving Regulus a parting tap on the shoulder. “Alright, Reg?”

Regulus didn’t reply at once, but he soon forced a smile and nodded, hands buried in his jeans pockets. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Uncle.” He bade Remus farewell before awkwardly stepping out of the compartment. He felt Victoria’s gaze on him, and he looked away as a gaggle of Hufflepuff first‑years began dashing about and the train’s whistle blew.

The first carriage was crammed with people; it was the busiest of them all and, as always, reserved only for the prefects. They received a wary look from Percy Weasley as they passed the Gryffindor compartment and entered Slytherin’s, where Head Prefects Gemma Farley and Achilles Selwyn stood by the sliding door.

Regulus and Victoria settled into the only spare seat, eyeing Luke Avery and Aphelandra Pyke, who were a year above them. He’d never spoken much to Luke, but Aphelandra, leader of Slytherin’s Gobstones Club, despite her pale and slightly unkempt appearance, had a rather pleasant presence.

He couldn’t say the same of Achilles Selwyn. That boy was insufferable, forever trying to terrify the younger students because his uncle had been a Death Eater, as if that were something to boast about rather than be ashamed of. Beside him, Victoria pulled a notebook from her pocket and sharpened a charcoal pencil.

“So, as you know, prefects are responsible for maintaining the House’s decorum and patrolling the Hogwarts Express and the school. We can no longer deduct points from other Houses, only from our own, so please be extremely cautious about taking points off, as that penalises the entire House. Only dock points for very serious offences. We can also ask our Head of House to issue detentions, so it’s far better for the student to serve a detention than for us to lose points…”

Regulus honestly only heard the first minute; after that, his mind wandered far away. His fingers twisted the earphones of his Walkman incessantly as he wondered how much longer Gemma would go on without even pausing for breath.

Next to her, Achilles wore that detestable little smirk, leaning against the closed door without so much as taking a seat. Regulus felt the Hogwarts Express begin to move, the station falling away to reveal rolling countryside.

When she finally finished, Gemma settled beside Victoria, forcing Regulus to shift over and sit by the window.

“Right then… Black…” Achilles began, running a hand through his vivid red hair. “Is it true your uncle’s going to kill Harry Potter?”

Regulus frowned and let out a long sigh. Every eye in the carriage turned to him.

“What do you think?” He pulled the Walkman from his pocket, and everyone recoiled as if he’d brandished something lethal. Victoria alone paid them no heed, sketching quietly in her notebook.

“Well… he’s not going to finish the job, is he? You know, after handing the Potters… over to the Dark Lord.” Achilles shrugged, his grin mocking.

If Selwyn thought that line would rattle Regulus, he was sorely mistaken. Regulus’s face hardened into an iron mask; he shrugged off the remark and popped the earphones into his ears.

“According to the letters we exchanged… yes. He’s keen to kill Potter.” Regulus spoke low, as though sharing a dangerous secret.

Achilles’s brow furrowed.  

“You actually exchanged letters?!” He folded his arms and glanced at the door, ensuring no one was eavesdropping.

“Of course we did, every Thursday. He looked after me when I was a child, you know? He’s my godfather.” Regulus continued, utterly unfazed. Victoria’s lips curved into the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. “He even made friends with a Dementor. His name’s Georgino.”

Aphelandra let out a laugh; Luke scratched his chin; Gemma stared as though he were some kind of alien. Achilles’s smirk vanished.

“Oh, fuck off, Black! You’d never have exchanged letters!” He relaxed his stance, waving his hands as if swatting away a fly.

Regulus gave a malicious grin and rewound his tape.

“The letters part was a lie, but… with my father dead and my mother in Azkaban, he looked after me until I was three because he’s my godfather, so…” Regulus stood and clipped the Walkman to his waistband. “Can I get on with patrol now?”

The carriage grew so silent that the only sound was the train ploughing through the wind. Victoria snapped her notebook shut and rose in one graceful movement.

“Y-you may…” Achilles stammered, utterly taken aback.

The others merely lowered their gazes, keeping silent. Among certain circles of Slytherin, being the son of a Death Eater lent him a measure of prestige, not to mention that he belonged to one of the most distinguished pure‑blood families—even though his mother was deemed half‑blood, he was still regarded as pure. Besides, she was a Gaunt, albeit disowned, and her name carried weight among the supremacists.

Regulus glanced at the back of his left hand, where a charm concealed his Signet. Only a handful of students knew of its existence—among them Luana, Victoria and her brothers.

He wondered if Remus was still asleep. The full moon had been the day before, so most likely he was. He smiled to himself, proud that his uncle had secured a post at Hogwarts and a little fearful that he might deliver more pointed lectures now that they were physically closer.

He looked at Victoria beside him, clutching her notebook under her arm and twisting her hair into a bun with her charcoal pencil. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and offered a gentle smile.

Regulus felt as if his heart had been struck by an arrow, caught in a whirlwind, an earthquake. He leaned against the window to let a group of Ravenclaws pass by without tearing his eyes away from Victoria.

Then they resumed walking, Regulus too dazed by Victoria to utter a single comment on their patrol, which amounted to nothing more than a stroll back to their compartment.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXIII

Regulus and Victoria stopped in front of the carriage where a sleeping Remus and his luggage were, only to find Harry Potter, his gormless-looking mate, and the know-it-all with him. The three of them stared back, puzzled.

They’d never exchanged more than three or four words before. Victoria, however, gave them a small wave and slowly slid open the door to the compartment. Regulus noticed just how green the boy’s eyes were—so intense and bright they reminded him of one of his grandmother Walburga’s more garish necklaces. They also reminded him of the eyes of a red-haired girl with easy smiles and gentle words…

"Do you think we could…" she began, but Regulus placed a hand on her shoulder, cutting her off. Victoria shot him a confused glance.

"Oi, aren’t you that Black bloke’s nephew?!" the ginger lad asked, gripping a lump beneath his robes, hiding it from the squashed-faced cat in the know-it-all’s lap.

Regulus tilted his chin at the most arrogant angle he could manage, the blue of his eyes freezing the boy’s grey ones.

"Come on, Victoria," he muttered, curtly.

"But there’s space…"

Regulus sighed, pulled his friend along and slammed the compartment door shut. She quickly wriggled free, her breathing quickening, eyes wide. As if he was about to hurt her. Reg slowly opened his hand, showing her he wasn’t a threat, then gently rested his palm on her shoulder.

"Sorry. Sorry…" Regulus murmured, all the pride draining from him in a wave of embarrassment. "I didn’t… didn’t mean…"

"It’s all right." Victoria hid behind a smile. "What’s the problem with sitting in the same compartment as him? I mean, it’s not like…"

"No." Regulus cut her off, casting a quick glance at the three who were still watching them warily.

He motioned for Victoria to follow him, and they made their way through the carriages searching for Luana until they found her in a compartment beside Victor (Victoria’s twin brother), with Cedric Diggory and Gabriel Truman from Hufflepuff playing Exploding Snap near the window.

"There you are!" Lua sang out, her hands resting behind her head as she stretched her legs across the front seat. "Thought you weren’t coming back!"

Regulus offered a charming smile as he slid in beside Diggory, with Victoria across from him.

"Farley wouldn’t shut up…" he grumbled, unwinding the wire of his headphones. "Thought the speech was never going to end."

"Every time she starts one of those patrol talks with the other prefects, I just grab my stuff and leave… she goes on till the bloody next day," Gabriel muttered, smoke rising from the card he’d just discarded.

"Dead!" Cedric declared, slapping his hand on the deck.

"Better luck next time, Truman!" Lua teased, folding her arms and throwing Diggory a very suggestive look. He seemed to be doing everything possible to avoid her gaze. Across the way, Victor huffed, annoyed with the whole situation, and turned to stare out the window.

Regulus wasn’t particularly close to the Hufflepuffs, but Diggory and Truman were also prefects and in the same year as him. Besides, Cedric was Hufflepuff’s Seeker despite having the build of a Beater, while Regulus was Slytherin’s Beater.

The same position his mother had held.

The game of Exploding Snap continued and Victoria leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she gestured for Regulus to come closer.

"What’s the deal with Potter?" she asked in a hushed tone, her platinum hair brushing Regulus’s shoulder.

The closeness made him blush.

"Seriously? After all that mess with the Chamber of Secrets last year?!" he complained, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would we sit with them?! Our mates are here." He nodded towards the game.

"Our mates? You can’t stand Truman and you barely speak to Diggory." She hugged her notebook, licking her lips. Regulus’s gaze lingered on the soft, inviting skin of her peach-coloured mouth before slowly drifting up her delicate nose and landing on her caramel eyes.

Victoria looked at Cedric, giving him the chance to get a clearer look at her long white lashes, as fine and subtle as snowflakes. She covered her face with her hand and gave a little giggle when Diggory looked her way. It was only a second, but enough for Regulus to notice the exchange. He recoiled suddenly, leaning back against the seat as something hot and unpleasant thudded in his chest, his heart feeling like it was being crushed.

Regulus shoved his headphones on and hit play, giving Victoria no chance to resume the conversation. She stared at him, slightly thrown, raising an eyebrow at Lua. Luana just shrugged, eyes still fixed on Cedric as though he were something bordering on divine.

Cedric Diggory was handsome—or at least that’s what all the girls said about him. Like Regulus, he had dark hair and grey eyes, though Cedric’s grey was bright, while Reggie’s was like starlight soaked in blue.

He exhaled through his nose and settled back, arms crossed, letting the rocking of the train lull him into a light sleep. He woke up when a thick layer of rain began to blur the windows and the plump witch stood at the compartment door with the trolley.

"What do you want?" Victoria asked, fishing a few Sickles and Galleons from her pocket.

"Nothing," Regulus muttered moodily. "What time is it?" He stared into the darkness slowly swallowing the last of the light outside, yawning.

Lua pulled a watch from her pocket and rubbed her eyes.

"Nearly there," she said, turning towards the window, as did everyone else.

"Why’s the weather so grim?" Truman asked, touching the damp glass and drawing a pumpkin on it.

"Odd," Cedric said as well, looking rather concerned as he munched on a Chocolate Frog.

Regulus didn’t even notice the witch handing out sweets to the others, too busy swapping the cassette in his Walkman, digging around in his enchanted pockets for the Led Zeppelin tape. He stopped when a Pepper Imp appeared in front of his face, his eyes focusing on the slender fingers and the perfectly painted dark green nails.

"Cheers, Mimi," Regulus murmured, taking the sweet and feeling his annoyance slowly begin to fade.

Victoria smiled—a genuine smile that sent something fluttering in his stomach. Regulus swallowed hard, watching as she offered a sweet to everyone in the compartment, stopping at Cedric last. Cedric raised an eyebrow at her, but quickly accepted it with a polite smile.

Regulus couldn’t help but notice the faint blush tinting his friend’s cheeks. His heart dropped like a stone, the warmth inside him turning to ash in an instant. He stood up abruptly, drawing everyone's attention.

"I'm getting changed," was all he said as he left them.

He felt stifled, and more than a little panicked. What was Victoria’s deal? Fancying Diggory? What was so bloody special about him anyway, other than that chisel-jawed face that made every girl in Hogwarts swoon? He sighed, rolling his eyes as he made his way back to the compartment where his things were, brushing past Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in the corridor. Draco shot him a smug little smirk, like they were mates. Regulus returned it with a scowl.

They were second cousins, and for some reason the boy seemed to think that meant they should talk or be friends. Which was ridiculous—Regulus was also distantly related to Victoria and half the bloody pure-bloods in the school, including that oaf Crabbe. Didn’t mean anything.

Regulus took a deep breath before opening the door to the compartment and stepping in, not bothering to ask permission or excuse himself.

"Need to grab my clothes… they’re in my trunk," was all he said, ignoring the stares from the three inside as he reached for the overhead rack.

The ginger shrugged, the girl ran a hand through her hair, and Harry shut the door to keep the cat from slipping out. Regulus shoved his hand into the trunk just as the lanterns lining the corridor and luggage rack flickered on. The trunk crunched his fingers as the train gave a sudden jolt.

"We must be nearly there…" the redhead murmured, leaning forward to peer past Lupin and out the window, which was now completely dark.

He’d barely spoken when the train began to slow down. Regulus pulled out a change of clothes and ran a hand through his fringe, ignoring them just as thoroughly as they were ignoring him.

"Brilliant," the boy went on, standing up to try and get a better look outside as Regulus left the compartment. "I’m starving. Can’t wait to get to the feast…"

"We’re not there yet," the girl said, checking her watch. "So why are we stopping?"

Regulus slid the door shut, feeling the train slow even further. When the pistons’ rumbling finally ceased, the wind and rain howled as they pelted the windows. He was the only one in the corridor, but soon enough, curious faces began popping up at the doors of the compartments. He quickened his pace back toward where his friends were, stumbling slightly as the Hogwarts Express gave a sudden jolt and came to a complete stop.

He clutched the clothes to his chest as a frigid draught swept down the corridor, slipping into the compartment just as the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.

"What’s going on?" Lua asked quietly. "Are we there?!"

"No," Regulus answered calmly, feeling along the walls until he found the seat.

The sound of Regulus sitting back down was drowned by the tense, heavy breathing around him. He tried to appear composed, though his fingers were digging into the fabric of his uniform, and the compartment window was fogging up even faster.

"I’m going to see what’s happening." Diggory made to stand, but the sound of someone shoving him back cut through the dark.

"No, stay there!" Victor snapped. "You’re right by the window—try and see what’s going on!"

Cedric let out a loud sigh, pulled his wand from his pocket and cast Lumos, as did Regulus and Luana. The six of them exchanged glances. Gabriel wiped the window with the sleeve of his cloak and squinted to try and make something out.

"Can’t see a thing…"

Restless, Regulus stood again, leaving the clothes on the bench, his hand closing around the door latch. But before he could pull it, the door was yanked open violently. He flinched—a tall, cloaked figure loomed in front of him. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, his fingers tightening around his wand, trying to look brave even as fear surged cold and sharp through his chest.

The hood turned—towards Victoria. An icy chill froze the air in Regulus’s lungs, and without thinking, he stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. She gasped, her warm breath brushing the back of his neck just as she stood, pressing herself against the wall as if she could somehow melt into it.

"Sirius Black." 

He heard a voice so sharp it sounded like metal scraping porcelain, and his whole body shuddered with agony.

"He's not here!" Regulus shouted, fear lacing every word. Victoria gripped his shirt, pulling him towards her as if she could somehow shield him from the creature. "Go away, he’s not here!"

The hooded figure turned its focus to him again, and Regulus felt his legs go weak, his body pressing Victoria’s against the wall, his hands slick with cold sweat as they clung to the back of the bench.

"He… is… not… here!" Regulus repeated, voice thread-thin, the breath caught in his throat.

The creature began to drift away, slowly, floating. Victoria sobbed quietly against the back of his neck, her fingers buried in his T-shirt. Regulus hoped the Dementor would leave, move on to the next compartment, but it lingered—just hovered there—as if waiting for something, as if…

The cold dried out Regulus’s eyes, but he was too terrified to lift his hands and rub them. His body was trembling now and he didn’t know whether it was from fear or the temperature. Then, gradually, the chill crept from his lungs to his ears, bringing a splitting headache with it, forcing him to shut his eyes.

"No!" He heard himself scream, though the voice was a child’s. "I want my daddy! Where’s my daddy?" His eyes filled with tears, blurring the sight of the house-elf who was caring for him. "Where’s my daddy?"

"Penny is so sorry, my little master…" the elf murmured, stroking his dark hair, kissing his forehead.

"Thanatos Gaunt," a man’s voice echoed in his mind. "Black asked me to hand the boy over to him."

"B-b-but sir… the grandmother of my little master… his grandmother is still… still alive…" Penny pleaded, holding Regulus tightly, as though she could protect him from the world.

"His grandmother was an accomplice to the Death Eaters," the man replied, stepping closer. "With his legal guardian imprisoned, Gaunt is his closest relative and an old friend. He’ll take good care of young Black. Besides… this is what his master asked me to do before being sent to Azkaban."

"I WANT MY DADDY!" Regulus screamed, thrashing about. "DADDY, DADDY, DADDY!"

There was a bang. Someone rushed in, breathing hard.

"Reggie!" It was his Uncle Lupin.

Regulus reached for him, face streaked with tears and spit.

"Uncle, my daddy!" he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I want my daddy…"

Remus looked terrible, his face just as red as Regulus’s—if not more. Still, he smiled so tenderly as he scooped the boy into his arms that, for a second, it felt like everything might be all right.

"I’ve got him, Alastor. I’ll take him to Nate." Remus rubbed his back gently, soothing his sobs, letting Regulus rest his head on his shoulder. "It’s going to be all right, Reggie. It’s going to be all right…"

.

.

.

"It's normal to feel nauseous and unwell while taking the potion. That’s why it’s recommended you only use it once a week. It also has side effects, such as cancelling out some contraceptives..."

Though Scarlett stared fixedly at the healer, it was as if she weren’t really there. The instructions quickly dissolved into meaningless noise, and the light streaming through the windows behind that witch stung her eyes, forcing her to rub them. She couldn’t remember how many days had passed. In truth, she didn’t know much of anything anymore.

She was still numb, forcing herself not to fall apart in front of those strangers, pushing away any feeling that threatened to take hold of her chest. Her gaze slowly slipped down to the burn scar on her right forearm, her fingers tracing over it gently.

Her appearance was much improved, but no matter how hard the healers tried, that scar would never fade. The blast-ended skrewt had scorched her skin so deeply it had left a permanent mark.

"Miss Gaunt…" the woman’s sharp voice snapped her back into focus. "Did you understand?!"

"Yes," Scarlett lied. She just wanted it to be over.

But no sooner had the woman left than another man sat at the desk across from her, trapping her in her catatonic state once more. He opened a leather briefcase and began pulling out a thick stack of papers, placing them in front of Scarlett as though she could make sense of any of it.

"Miss Gaunt, this was your parents’ will. As the sole heir, you’ve been left everything… the house in Switzerland… the vaults in Switzerland and Britain… the land and any possessions that survived the fire…"

Scarlett’s gaze shifted to the window. More precisely, to the two shirtless lads under the scorching sun. Sirius and Remus were pulling something bright and shiny out of the garage. She squinted to see: it was Nancy—Sirius’s motorbike. The Christmas present she’d given him.

Sirius was holding the handlebars on one side, guiding the bike, while Remus pushed it from behind. Then James reversed the car carefully out of the garage. The tarmac shimmered under the intense rays of sunlight, the ash no longer floating in the air. For a moment, it didn’t even look like her house had burned down. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had done an excellent job cleaning up the scene of destruction, even though the house itself remained in ruins.

Scarlett’s eyes settled on the man’s hands as he pushed two keys towards her, along with countless documents. Then he stood, and in his place sat her uncle Nate. He laced his fingers together, blinking repeatedly, as though it took great effort to figure out what to say.

"Scar…" her uncle murmured, his face carved into a mask of stone. He was never one to hide his feelings, which only led Scarlett to believe there was far more to the story than she’d been told.

But honestly, Scarlett didn’t want to know.

She stared at him, raising her brows, prompting him to go on.

"We need to talk about… the funeral." He wetted his lips, the shadows under his caramel eyes deepening. "I think… they’d have wanted to… rest beside your sister."

Scarlett took a deep breath, lifting her eyes to meet his.

"Funeral?" She didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in her tone. "Why the fuck would we have a funeral? There’s not even a body." Her chest tightened, fists clenching at her sides.

Thanatos seemed to study her reaction carefully.

"Because… your family—our family—wants to gather, to… honour… your parents… and Orfy." He cleared his throat, as if it was hard for him too.

Scarlett sniffed derisively.

"My family burned to death," she muttered, her voice sharp as acid.

"Your great-grandparents are arranging a Portkey to take us to Italy… to place the headstones." Thanatos continued, undeterred. "They asked if you had any preference… colour, or…"

"I couldn’t care less," Scarlett snapped, cutting him off. Thanatos swallowed hard. "I don’t want to. And I’m not going."

She turned her head toward the door as Sirius and Remus’s voices drifted up the stairs.

"What do you want, then?!" he asked, licking his lips, elbows on the desk, chin resting on his hands.

Scarlett clenched her jaw, brows drawing together as her shoulders tensed.

"What I want, you can’t give me." The pain was raw in her voice, tears stinging her already-blurred eyes. "Can you bring the dead back to life?"

Thanatos Gaunt had always been the kind of man who knew what to do in every situation. Not only a famous Auror, but a natural-born leader. Yet even he had his flaws, and one of them was his utter lack of tact in dealing with this. Not only was he investigating the death of his own brother, but he was trying to look after a niece who scared him with just how much she reminded him of himself at her age.

"No," he answered bitterly.

"That’s what I thought." Scarlett stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she pushed it back. She grabbed the keys and documents and left the study, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand—only to come face to face with Sirius and Remus.

They froze for a moment in silence, until Scarlett slipped past them into the bedroom where she’d been sleeping. She threw everything onto the bed and crouched down, covering her face with her hands, sucking in a breath through her nose and letting it out through her mouth, the pulsing grief threatening to sink its claws deep into her chest.

Scarlett reached out and picked up the potion the mediwitch had given her earlier. Potion for Melancholy , she read on the label, opened it, and swallowed the whole thing in one go, pulling a face. She lay back on the bed, put on her headphones, hit play on the Walkman, rested her hands on her stomach and stared at the spinning ceiling fan.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sirius sitting on the bed, his worried face filling her field of vision, blocking the blades of the fan, his dark hair closing off the world around her like a curtain.

Scarlett got lost in his gaze, in Robert Plant’s voice echoing through her ears, until Sirius pulled her headphones off and kissed her lips. She blinked, distracted, curling her fingertips into his hair.

"Love…" he murmured, in that insufferable tone of his. "…I want to claim my Valentine’s Day present."

She closed her eyes as Sirius brushed his nose against hers, his warm breath caressing her cheeks. She tried to remember what his bloody present had been, trying to break through the shock, forcing her mind to dig past the traumatic events that had defined the start of her summer all the way back to that fateful Valentine’s Day in winter.

"The tattoo?!" Scarlett asked, her voice hoarse. "You don’t need me to do that." She put her headphones back on—only for Sirius to take them off again.

"I know." He propped his elbow up on the bed, gently running his fingers through her hair. "It’s just that…" His eyes darted around the room before returning to hers. "I’m scared of needles…"

Scarlett raised an eyebrow, her fingers tracing through the beard Sirius had been growing, tugging lightly at the corner of his moustache.

"You want a tattoo and you’re scared of needles?" she asked, sceptically.

"Yeah, I… I come from a pure-blood family, I didn’t even know how tattoos were made before all this…"

Scarlett wanted to laugh at her boyfriend’s absurdity. But she’d lost so much, the weight of everything had stripped meaning from most things. So, she stared at Sirius for a long while before managing to find a reply.

"Er, then… then d-don’t do it," she stammered, clearing her throat.

The grey in Sirius’s eyes shimmered with confusion.

"I’m scared and I want you to come with me!" he confessed, pouting.

A chill ran through Scarlett’s stomach. She cupped his face, feeling the softness of his skin against her palm, the dimples forming as his pout turned into a smile.

"I… I don’t know…" she hesitated, swallowing hard.

"Please, kitten. I need you," Sirius murmured seriously, his thick brow knitting over his forehead.

Scarlett pressed her lips together. She was the worst girlfriend in the world. She knew exactly what Sirius had been doing while she spent her days crying in corners—trying to salvage whatever he could from the garage, making sure she was eating properly (and no, she wasn’t, and she didn’t care), having hushed arguments with Nate about who she’d be living with, and a hundred other things that Scarlett simply let slip by because she was still in a daze.

Her entire family was dead. What was she supposed to do? It all felt like one horrific nightmare on loop. She kept expecting to wake up—but that moment never came.

It was a constant pain, one that stole her breath and punched her in the stomach every time something reminded her of her parents or of Orfy. Before she knew it, she’d be drowning in tears, curled up and numb. She still couldn’t process what had happened.

Scarlett let out all the air in her lungs, nodding at last. Sirius’s smile lingered, though it turned slightly melancholic. He kissed her lips once more and stood from the bed, running a hand through his beard as he looked over his trunk for something to wear.

"You need to buy clothes…" Sirius went on, tossing her a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "You haven’t had any since…"

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The sharp pang hit Scarlett’s chest all the same, and she dug her nails into the blanket, trying to dull the sting.

"Could you… could you lend me… a jumper?" she asked, avoiding his gaze, though she discreetly hid the scar on her forearm.

Sirius understood at once, nodding as he grabbed his Rainbow jumper and handed it to her. Scarlett got changed, lethargic, dizzy. It felt like every time she left the bedroom, her senses went on high alert. As though something was about to go terribly wrong. As though…

As though…

As though she were about to lose her family all over again.

It manifested in all sorts of ways. She couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. She and Sirius both took dreamless sleep potion to keep the nightmares at bay. She still woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, struggling to breathe.

And that was with only a week passed since the incident. Scarlett hadn’t even realised—she only found out by overhearing a conversation between Euphemia and Fleamont after she’d pulled on the jumper and stepped out of the room. To her, the days were like a light switch: flicking on and off. Too far away to reach out and make time pass faster, too helpless to bring it closer and slow it down.

Scarlett was like a statue. Watching everything through the eyes of her stone skin—helpless and rigid, untouchable and cold. No matter how scorching that bloody summer was, she always felt frozen, as if she were on the verge of hypothermia.

Perhaps it was because of the constant chills rippling over her skin every time her gaze fell on the Atari Orfy had left in James’s living room, or when Fleamont crossed his legs to read the paper just like Morfeu used to, or the fleeting moments when Euphemia bent down to pick something up and, just for a second, Scarlett mistook her for her mum.

They were there, everywhere. And it was nearly impossible to detach herself from the longing. It was mad to think they would never be there again—that Scarlett would never again endure a ridiculous game of UNO beside her brother, or be on the receiving end of her father’s disapproving look if she drank all the milk straight from the bottle. Or… that she’d never again feel that tight, fluttery nervousness she always got around her mum.

No. They weren’t there anymore. And Scarlett found herself crying again, clutching the Rainbow jumper between her fingers, her eyes fixed on the parquet floor of the Potters’ house. Funny how she’d never noticed the imperfections in their flooring before—like the yellowish stain near the fridge in the kitchen, or that one loose wooden tile on the upstairs landing.

Scarlett looked at the narrow beam of light coming through one of the kitchen windows, reaching for her fingers. She tucked her hand beneath the thick fabric of the jumper, the conversations spinning around her never quite making sense. She lifted her gaze to Sirius beside her. He’d always been incredibly tactile, and this moment was no exception—one hand held a slice of toast covered in jam, the other rested on her shoulder.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes slightly, studying Sirius’s calloused fingers, and the rings he wore. The one on his thumb was made of coconut shell, the one on his index finger a smooth silver band, almost like a wedding ring. On his middle finger was a ring with a raven emblem. And on his ring finger, their commitment ring. Black. Black like his hair. Like the T-shirt he wore. Like the long lashes that framed his starry eyes. Her gaze drifted, finally landing on James.

He was just as quiet as she was. Lost. She’d heard him crying in Euphemia’s lap more than once. James’s mother was so delicate and kind that Scarlett always felt guilty saying no to her—like refusing the endless plates of pancakes she made. Scar knew Mrs Potter only wanted to help, but pancakes reminded her of her mum and…

It was just so, so, so hard to exist among the everyday things. Scarlett was constantly trying to remember something while simultaneously fighting to forget. It was an exhausting duality that always ended the same way: with Scarlett crouched on the floor, sobbing, biting her own thigh as hard as she could just to see if the pain of the bite could be stronger than the one tearing through her chest.

It wasn’t.

Nothing was.

Nothing ever would be.

So she forced herself to give her best smile that morning when Remus brought her a tub of chocolate-hazelnut ice cream. The smile was no more than a slight curve of her lips, but it was enough for her to hear Sirius exhale, relieved, and for James to finally force himself to eat something.

In the first two days, Scarlett hadn’t eaten a thing. On the third, Sirius had watched over her until she’d managed to get down a large apple. On the fourth, she’d even enjoyed the apple and drank a bit of milk. On the fifth, she pretended to feel ill so she wouldn’t be forced to eat the damn pancakes. On the sixth… she shoved the food in her mouth and spat it all into the toilet.

And on the seventh…

Well, this was the seventh day, and it was a bit harder to pretend she was eating when everyone at the table was watching her. Not directly, but sideways glances, subtle ones, as though they were just making sure she was okay. And if “okay” meant barely talking to anyone, not wanting to leave the room, and spending most of her time in Animagus form to keep from crying until her eyes burned—then Scarlett had never been better.

She didn’t want to leave. She knew Sirius wasn’t scared of needles—her boyfriend feared very few things, and none of them were stupid needles. But she also knew that sooner or later, she’d have to leave the house. And, truth be told, the idea of being somewhere other than the Potters’ did bring a tiny sense of relief.

It was torture being in the house directly across from hers… or rather, what was left of it.

"…it’s in Muggle London," Sirius explained, sipping from a cup of coffee. "It’s not dangerous."

"Even so, I’ll have to go with you," Nate said, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Can’t just assume it’s safe… especially with…" He cast a subtle glance in Scarlett’s direction, which made Sirius sigh.

"Fine," he agreed, reluctantly. "Everyone ready? We’ll take the Floo to Diagon Alley and then from there—"

Scarlett really liked Sirius’s voice. It reminded her of Jim Morrison’s—drawled, deep, and lazy when he wanted it to be. Then it would turn wild and rasped when he was angry. Velvet-soft and low when aroused. He’d throw it into his nose just before saying something outrageous or cracking a joke.

Sirius’s hand shifted on her shoulder as Scarlett finished her massive 200ml glass of milk. It was enough to sustain her for the morning.

She stared at the green sand in her palm before throwing it into the fireplace. The flames consumed her, and the Potters’ living room was replaced by the fireplaces of Diagon Alley. It was bustling with activity—children running about with ice cream-smeared faces and parents scrambling behind them. Aurors stood watch at every corner and dark alley, like silent shadows keeping guard.

Sirius wrapped his arm around her shoulder possessively. Not just that—he kept looking around, eyes darting warily. Not that it was necessary; Nate and two other Aurors were escorting them. Remus and James lagged behind, and oddly, the only ones speaking were Sirius and Remus.

James—the most talkative of them all—hadn’t said a single word.

Scarlett squinted against the bright sunlight, and Sirius smiled, taking the aviator sunglasses from the collar of his white T-shirt and sliding them onto her face. Scarlett wasn’t sure if she’d smiled back, but she was certain she’d made some sort of ridiculous expression because Sirius’s laughter deepened.

Scarlett watched the shopfronts pass by one by one, until the magical ones gave way to Muggle ones. She glanced at the clothing displays with little interest. She knew she’d have to buy an entirely new wardrobe—after all, she’d lost everything in the…

In the…

In the fire.

Scarlett swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in her throat. She lowered her head, crossing her arms tightly as if to hide her face. It wasn’t enough. Back in Diagon Alley, she’d already noticed a few people pointing at her. Scarlett tried her best to ignore the newspaper shop. Her uncle had already had more than enough fights with The Prophet ’s editors over their vile, twisted articles on the investigation.

It wasn’t as if Scarlett cared. Newspapers reminded her of her father, so they were one of the hundreds of things she avoided with religious fervour.

They entered a shopping centre. Scarlett stepped onto the escalator. She didn’t really register where they were until a bright, colourful shop emerged at the top—the arcade. Her chest tightened at the sight, making her stumble as the steps levelled out. If it hadn’t been for Sirius, she would’ve taken a nasty fall.

"You all right?" Sirius arched his brows slightly, the arcade neons casting purple and turquoise across his silver-grey irises, making it look like stars had burst into supernovae.

Sirius Black was beautiful even with dark circles under his eyes and a furrow of worry carved between his brows.

"Just… tripped," Scarlett heard herself say, her cheeks flushing as she looked away.

It was still amazing how one look from him could make her feel like a girl again.

They carried on. Scarlett folded her arms, resting her head against Sirius’s chest, letting him lead her. Even though the heat inside the shopping centre was stifling, she felt cold.

She felt as dead as her family. Maybe her body was just reflecting that.

Scarlett froze as she caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking head of brown hair in a shop window’s reflection. A tall man, full beard, aquiline nose. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest, as though it knew this person, as though it had known him forever. She turned sharply, eyes focusing in seconds, expectation fraying the edges of reality.

She exhaled when she saw it wasn’t her father. Just a man who looked a lot like him. Scarlett blinked, dazed, unsure if she was walking forward or backward. Sirius followed her gaze, stopping on the stranger now handing ice creams to his two daughters.

Scarlett dug her nails into her Ouroboros, retreating deep into a comforting corner of her mind as the urge to cry became unbearable. She didn’t scream or wail, didn’t even make a sound. Just soft little drops slipping silently down her face while Sirius wrapped his arms around her, pressing gentle kisses to her cheek in comfort.

Scarlett focused on Sirius’s heartbeat. It was fast, as though in a rush—strong, like it was afraid. She understood. This hurt him too. And if their roles were reversed, it would tear her apart the same way.

She sniffled and murmured that she was fine before they carried on, stopping in front of the tattoo studio. Scarlett’s vision was too blurry to make sense of any of the designs in the portfolio Sirius was flipping through from his seat. She settled into the chair directly in front of him.

"What's your star sign?" Sirius turned his head toward her.

It took Scarlett a moment to realise he was speaking to her.

"What?" she whispered, rubbing her eyes to see him more clearly.

"Your sign, love." He said it with such tenderness that Scarlett felt herself melt.

"Uh, ah… I think… um… Sagittarius." Scarlett scratched her head, suddenly self-conscious.

Sirius pulled off his T-shirt, and Scarlett’s gaze got lost in the sight of his torso. His chiselled abs, the defined arms, the chest she loved resting against. He wasn’t overly muscular, nor was he skinny. Lean—just the right amount of sharp and soft.

"I want the Sagittarius constellation… right here." He pointed to the middle of his back, just below the nape.

The tattoo artist began asking him questions Scarlett didn’t hear. She was too spellbound by how the white light in the studio reflected off Sirius’s skin, highlighting the tiny freckles scattered across his back—like dark stars in a pale universe. His complexion was so soft, it looked like marble.

White. White like a ghost, a sculpture, like the clouds streaking across the sky. There was something slightly haunting about the paleness of his skin. Pure-blood genes, she supposed.

He lay on his stomach. Scarlett dragged the chair closer, sat in it backwards and rested her chin on the backrest. She brushed Sirius’s hair aside from where the artist had begun sketching the constellation with a blue pen. He looked at her, reaching one hand out, and she laced her fingers through his without hesitation.

Scarlett could feel the sweat on Sirius’s palm seeping into the glove on her left hand. In return, she ran her thumb slowly across the back of his hand, tracing the bulging veins that mapped their way down to his forearm.

"Hey… lie here…" he motioned to the space beside his face. Scarlett folded her arms on the chair and rested her head there, turning her cheek toward him, meeting his eyes upside down.

"Nervous?" Scarlett asked quietly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Sirius’s lips stretched into a smile that woke butterflies in her stomach. His grey eyes sparkled with excitement and just a touch of nervous energy.

"Just a bit," he said, voice suddenly serious.

Scarlett held still, stoic, as if she’d just gazed into the eyes of Medusa. Letting herself be pulled into the molten silver of Sirius’s gaze, into his unspoken promises, into the flicker of his yearning. His otherwise symmetrical face began to shift—his nose twitched, lips pressed tight, eyes squinted. The buzz of the tattoo machine was soft, ironically the only sound Scarlett’s ears could register.

"Does it hurt?" Scarlett asked softly. Sirius forced a calm expression, but she could see the tight clench of his jaw.

"Not… not too much," he wavered, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. "It’s like… like he’s dragging the tip of a quill across your skin… but hard…"

Scarlett craned her neck to see the tattooist at work, but Sirius gripped her hand tighter. She lay back down, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Don’t leave me," he whispered, his eyes shining until the light turned to tears. "Please."

Scarlett shook her head, catching the stray tears with her thumb and brushing them away. His skin was soft beneath her touch despite the stubble. Sirius closed his eyes slowly, lashes glistening with moisture, nostrils flaring gently.

"Never," she whispered, stroking his cheeks with a tenderness that made the moment feel weightless.

Sirius smiled, but the mask cracked a second later into a choked sob. He let out a low grunt, trying to push it down, to focus on the needles relentlessly piercing his skin. But it was hard—especially when Scarlett’s eyes held him so easily, dragging up all the memories from that cursed day, sending shivers down his spine.

It was enough for guilt to curl like smoke in Scarlett’s already battered heart. She squeezed her burning eyes shut, unable to cry with him, though every part of her ached to do so.

"I’m sorry… for saying those things to you…" Scarlett murmured, feeling the uneven rhythm of Sirius’s breath against her forehead. "I didn’t mean to… to blame you. I know that doesn’t make it right, but—"

Sirius nodded faintly, his lips pressed into a tight line as he sniffled.

"It’s all right. I’m not… I’m not crying because of that. It’s just… I didn’t think it would hurt this much." He ducked behind the half-truth. Scarlett knew it was a lie. And he knew that she knew. It was written all over his tear-stained face, gleamed in the red-rimmed eyes… etched into the furrows that weighed down his brow.

"I’m here," Scarlett whispered, her voice cracking. She ran her thumb across his thick brows, and Sirius let out a faint laugh from his chest. She knew how uncomfortable he was showing his vulnerabilities.

"I know," he murmured, closing his eyes again, sinking into the gentleness of her touch.

"It’s all right to cry," she added.

And that was all it took to disarm Sirius—his defences, his barriers, the tension wound into every muscle. He pressed his nose to hers and wept again, trying not to move too much and ruin the tattoo. Letting Scarlett’s tenderness soothe the burning ember of everything he’d buried in his chest, the torn fissure in his soul, the pieces he’d left behind. The memories he’d shattered just to keep moving forward.

Their eyes met again, and Sirius took a deep breath.

"I just… I hate seeing you suffer like this," he confessed, voice thick with emotion. "I feel so fucking helpless. I want to make you happy… I want to… I… I just…"

He tried to smile, to slip back into the mask of cheerfulness, but it crumbled almost instantly, replaced by an expression of raw sadness. The gleam in his eyes dimmed into grief, the kind that crashes in like a wave and leaves nothing standing.

"I’m sorry… I should’ve… I should’ve listened to you… should’ve gone back… into the fire and—"

"No." Scarlett cut him off, even though part of her wanted to hear him say it. She knew it was an illusion. A sweet, warm, comforting illusion to think about what they could have done. But that wouldn’t get them anywhere. "You did… you did what you could, my love. You… saved me."

In that moment, Scarlett said those last words with gratitude. She’d regret saying them, sometimes. But she couldn’t have known that then. Scarlett loved that man, and that feeling wouldn’t change with the passing years. It might stretch or shrink, burn brightly or fade to a flicker… but it would never disappear. It was as natural as the air in her lungs, the chill brushing her cheeks, the sunlight warming her skin.

Sirius took in her words in silence, and the buzz of the tattoo machine filled the space between them. There was nothing else to say. The emotion surrounding them, formless and yet so exact, was enough. He squeezed her hand tighter, and for a few seconds, Scarlett didn’t feel like the most miserable woman in the world—she felt like the most loved.

The feeling didn’t last long, but it was enough to let her feel something beyond pain for once. A small flicker of warmth in her chest, a breath of wind at her neck, a shiver down the base of her spine. She hadn’t thought she’d be capable of feeling that again—not after everything.

It was as if happiness had been amputated from her, and even the mere shadow of it sent her spiralling into panic. Sirius, however, had a way of pulling her out of that spiral—his eyes anchoring her to the earth, holding her steady in the storm, shielding her from the hurricane.

Sirius Black.  

Her rainbow at the end of the storm.

The tattooist finished the design, wiping away the excess ink with a cloth. Sirius sat up, inspecting his back in the mirror. On his right shoulder blade was the dancing strawberry they’d drawn together on Halloween night.

Scarlett sighed. That day felt like it had been a lifetime ago…

Sirius liked the result so much he decided to get his hands tattooed too. Remus looked impressed, clearly itching to get a tattoo of his own. James, leaning in the corner of the room, barely glanced at the constellation on his friend’s back.

Scarlett forced a smile when Remus said something to her while sketching the runes Sirius had asked for. Her mind drifted again, watching the grimace Sirius made as the artist moved across his knuckles, then the back of his hand.

"It hurts way more on the hand…" he grumbled, biting his lower lip before casting a revitalised glance at Scarlett. "Can you tie my hair back?"

It took her a few seconds to realise he was speaking to her. She was still distant. Nodding, she circled the chair and stood behind him. It didn’t feel warm in the studio—not to Scarlett, at least. But Sirius clearly disagreed, judging by the sweat trailing down his neck, his shoulder muscles glistening with it.

Scarlett got a better look at the constellation on his back. The skin was red, irritated, and slightly swollen, but the contrast of the black ink on his pale complexion only accentuated his natural allure. She gathered his hair and began to braid it, her mind awash with a hundred thoughts.

"You're letting someone touch your hair like that, Pads?!" James’s voice came from behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. "You must really love her."

There was something uneasy in James’s voice. A touch of forced irony, too. He took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, shrouded in that prickly silence he carried lately. Scarlett rested her chin on Sirius’s forehead, arms draped over his shoulders, watching the artist ink the Toto sword onto his hand.

"Can I get a tattoo too, today?" Scarlett asked Sirius.

He looked at her in surprise.

"Of course you can."

Once the artist finished Sirius’s hands, Scarlett lay on the chair, face down, and lifted her jumper. His eyes widened, startled, as if he thought she was about to take her top off completely. She lay back on the chair, and Sirius gathered her hair.

"I want the Canis Major constellation. Same one you had done on your hand…" Scarlett said, pointing to the stars inked across the back of Sirius’s hand.

The sensation really was like a quill tip being dragged across her skin. But the pain was barely more than a faint sting, a trivial irritation. Like the bites she gave her own thigh—it didn’t come anywhere close to the colossus that crushed her heart. So insignificant, it almost tickled.

Sirius kept running his fingers through her hair like he was deeply unsettled by the thought of Scarlett feeling the sting of the needle. Scarlett didn’t mind—in fact, she liked the way his fingers moved across her scalp, how he could be so gentle, so careful, as if trying to stitch the wounds in her heart shut with a single act of love.

It was futile… but Sirius had always been the kind to punch stone, to insist on the impossible, to bash his head against walls. He always tried to keep his promises, no matter how bitter, no matter how out of reach. Sirius Black was a bloody masochist.

Scarlett hissed softly as she got up from the chair, turning to view the artwork on her back in the mirror.

"It’s beautiful," Sirius murmured beside her, leaning in close. "You know the best part? I’m gonna see it every time you’re on all fours for me…"

She smacked his arm, face turning crimson. No one else had heard it, but a shy smile curled her lips. It wasn’t happiness, not really, but it came so naturally that Scarlett was left surprised with herself.

Sirius paid, and they left the studio. She had to avoid holding his hand for the next few days, but that didn’t stop him from keeping his arm around her shoulders—careful not to touch the fresh tattoo across her back.

"What are we eating?" he asked, dragging them all toward the food court.

The smell of fried food made Scarlett’s stomach growl loudly. James, Remus, and Sirius turned to stare at her.

"That was you?!" Remus raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"It was Sirius," Scarlett said, tossing her boyfriend a conspiratorial look.

"I’m starving," he shrugged, then winked at her. "Fish and chips?"

.

.

.

Scarlett stared down at her tray of fish and chips, not touching it. Remus and Sirius were eating like trolls, and even James ended up snatching a chip before giving in to the meal. Scarlett poked one piece of battered fish with her index finger, the heat pulsing into her fingertip, turning it pink.

"Not eating?" Sirius looked at her, wiping his mouth with a napkin and folding it with that annoyingly precise elegance of his.

"Not hungry," Scarlett whispered, scratching her nose to chase away the scent tormenting her.

"But it’s so good…" he said, biting into a chunk of fish and closing his eyes like it was the most divine thing he’d ever tasted.

Scarlett blinked a few times, then finally dared to pick up a piece. She bit into it slowly, carefully, her mouth watering as the crunch echoed in her ears and the delicious flavour of fried fish coated her tongue. Sirius was right. Or maybe she really was starving. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt hunger.

She ate everything faster than she should have, licking her fingers at the end, already considering grabbing another portion. She couldn’t ignore the breath Sirius released as he watched her eat like that, nor the gentle smile he gave her when they stood up from the table.

"Want more?" he asked, offering his hand.

"No," Scarlett lied, staring at the floor.

It was hard to swallow her pride and walk away from the food court when Sirius simply accepted her answer. Scarlett didn’t want to go back to the Potters’ house—though being out on the street wasn’t exactly comforting either, staying in Godric’s Hollow was unbearable.

She barely realised she’d stopped in front of a clothing shop.

"You want to go in?" Sirius asked, stretching his neck to peek at the racks inside.

"No…" Scarlett shook her head. But Sirius took her hand and gently pulled her along as he pushed open the shop door.

"It’s all right, we can have a look…" he encouraged her.

Scarlett hesitated. She didn’t want to overstep her own limits, but in the end, she nodded, and they stepped into the shop together. Inside, the place was full of clothes in every colour and style. She ran her hand along the garments on the hangers, trying to keep her composure as she picked one up. It was hard—especially with her chest starting to boil over.

The last time she’d been in a shop like this was with her mum, helping her pick out a dress alongside Lily and Pandora. Scarlett gasped and let the shirt fall to the floor like it had caught fire. Her body began to tremble from the sheer effort of holding in the tears—not in front of strangers, not in a bloody clothing shop!

Luckily, her reaction caught Sirius’s attention. He quickly dropped the clothes he’d been holding and rushed to her.

"Hey, hey, hey…" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "It’s okay…"

"Can we… can we go back? P-please…" she stammered, coughing as she struggled to make sense.

"Back? You mean home?" he asked gently, trying to comfort her. "Scar… you… you need to get some clothes, love. At least something for the funeral…"

Scarlett began to hyperventilate, clutching Sirius’s T-shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Just the mention of the funeral made her legs give way beneath her.

"No, please… please… I just want to go home…" she sobbed, breathing hard. "Please, Sirius…"

"It’s okay, love." He kissed her forehead, trying to soothe her as he led her out of the shop. "It’s all right, I’m here…" Sirius whispered in her ear.

Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut, wishing with everything in her that someone would finally shake her awake from this nightmare.

.

.

.

It was easy to sleep… but waking up was the hard part. Scarlett opened her eyes in the middle of the night, disoriented. Even though she’d spent the entire week in a lethargic haze, she felt utterly drained. Her emotions were in ruins. Beside her, Sirius slept deeply, his breathing steady, expression peaceful.

She moved carefully to avoid waking him, slipping out of bed slowly, every muscle in her body protesting under the weight of accumulated stress. Her only comfort was the sight of Sirius so calm, his jaw twitching slightly before he let out a soft snore.

Scarlett crossed the bedroom feeling heavy and unsteady, rubbing her eyes as the unprocessed grief settled on her shoulders like lead. She forced herself to leave so as not to disturb him, tiptoeing across the Potters' landing.

From the bannister, she could see a light dancing in the darkness downstairs. Scarlett descended the steps, drawn to the soft glow like a moth to a flame. When she entered the sitting room, she saw James’s slender silhouette, messy-haired, hunched in front of the telly.

He was playing Adventure on the Atari—Orfy’s favourite game. James had promised to beat the level for him… before everything happened.

A violent wave of nostalgia stole the breath from Scarlett’s lungs, screaming for her to run back to the safety of the bedroom, of Sirius’s arms. But she didn’t move. She narrowed her eyes against the flicker of the screen.

Silently, she approached James. He sat on the carpet, and when his hazel eyes—now tinged purple in the glow—landed on her, his brows lifted slowly. Scarlett settled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. In return, he placed his chin on her forehead, one arm still working the joystick, his glasses crooked on his face.

The only sound between them was the music and beeps of the game.

Scarlett felt James’s tears as they dampened her skin, heard him sniff quietly, wipe his face, and carry on with the game. He didn’t speak. There was nothing to be said, nothing to mend. All that remained were memories and promises—and James seemed determined to keep every single one.

They stayed like that, just existing together, bathed in the basic colours of the game screen until morning came and Sirius found them in the same position, the end screen blinking endlessly.

Sirius crouched behind them and wrapped them both in his arms, planting a kiss on the top of each of their heads, holding them tight, saying nothing.

Some things no words could heal.  

Loss was one of them.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXIV

"She said she doesn’t want to go," Sirius repeated for the thousandth time, massaging his temples.

Thanatos sighed and knocked back his glass of firewhisky.

"She needs to… be there, Sirius." Nate fixed those caramel eyes on him, bloodshot and swollen from the drink and grief. "Doesn’t she have any other friends? Besides you three?"

Sirius watched the amber liquid swirl inside the glass bottle before pouring himself another drink. He couldn’t smoke anymore after what happened, so he had to settle for alcohol. The drink burned its way down, and Sirius grunted, swirling the glass before finishing it off.

"Of course she does." He met Nate’s gaze again. "Do you want me to summon them all?"

"She needs support… Merlin knows how shit I am at that." Scarlett’s uncle gave a strained smile. "Morfeu always knew how to…," he licked his lips, searching for the right words, "make death feel like a see-you-later, not a goodbye. When Bonnie died, he carried the weight like it was nothing. Like he was made for it." He shrugged, pulling a cigarette from his metal case. "He was my older brother… and good at everything. And me…," Nate smiled again as he lit the cigarette, "I’m just a fucked-up Auror. I don’t know if I can help her, Sirius."

Sirius waved the smoke away from his face before it could overwhelm his nostrils. He exhaled through his mouth and leaned his head back against the chair, staring at the upper level.

"Can you get me some addresses? I was going to send them with Scar’s owl, but…," Sirius lowered his gaze to Nate.

"Yeah, I can. Write down the names and I’ll head to the Ministry in a bit… see if there’s any update on the case and—"

"It was them, wasn’t it?" Sirius cut in. "The Death Eaters."

Thanatos tapped the cigarette against the ashtray, his pupils narrowing as his eyes widened.

"Everything pointed that way, but the lack of the Dark Mark in the sky is a strong sign it wasn’t…" He took a deep drag. "The Death Eaters take pride in their kills."

Sirius frowned at the ache in his chest. He stayed silent for quite a while.

"How?!" he whispered, drawing Nate’s eyes back to him.

The Auror shook his head slowly, blowing the smoke upward.

"Someone who had access to the house… but… after Christmas… impossible. No one from outside could get in. And it’s hard to be sure because Scarlett… won’t talk to me."

"She needs time." Sirius drummed his fingers on the firewhisky bottle.

A sorrowful smile crept onto Thanatos’s face.

"Time never heals, Sirius." He held the glowing cigarette between his lips. "It just distances… but it never heals."

.

.

.

Sirius sat on his motorbike for quite a while, roasting under the blazing sun, sweat gluing the leather jacket to his arms as he tried to figure out what to say. He stared at the flower garden of the house next door, thumbs drumming relentlessly on the handlebars. Then he exhaled sharply and pulled into the small space in front of the garage, dismounting in one fluid motion as he kicked down the side stand.

He checked the address scrawled on the scrap of paper and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, adjusting the aviator sunglasses that kept slipping down the bridge of his nose. He climbed the steps and licked his lips, his hand hovering near the doorbell.

He pressed it carefully, the soft chime audible from inside the house. Stepping back, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before stuffing it into his pocket. It wasn’t long before a pale blonde girl opened the door, casting him a bored glance before straightening up as if she’d just been electrocuted.

Under normal circumstances, Sirius would’ve laughed. His lips barely moved.

"Good afternoon. Is Lily in? I need to speak with her," was all he said.

The girl opened and closed her mouth a few times, then raised her eyebrows and gave a small nod.

"Who is it, darling?" A red-haired woman appeared behind her in the doorway, breaking into a wide smile when she saw Sirius.

"He wants to speak with Lily." The girl’s face shut down the second she turned back to her mother.

"Would you like to come in...?" Mrs Evans gestured, her smile so warm that it took Sirius a second to catch the hint in her tone.

"Sirius." He gave a sheepish smile, noticing both Mrs Evans and Lily’s sister craning their necks to look at the motorbike parked outside.

"Yes, Sirius, won’t you come in? I’ll fetch Lily… it’s murderously hot out there…"

"You must be dying in that jacket." There was a certain bite to Lily’s sister’s tone that made Sirius click his fingers in irritation.

"Petunia, go and fetch your sister!" Mrs Evans said — kindly, though it was clearly an order. She reminded him a bit of Euphemia. "So then…" She opened the door wider and motioned for Sirius to come in.

"Thank you, Mrs Evans." Sirius gave a little bow as he removed his sunglasses and stepped inside.

The Evans’ home was a classic English suburban house — red-bricked, with a spacious living room and a stairwell wall filled with photographs.

"Lily! You’ve got company!" Petunia shouted up the stairs, then turned back to Sirius with a grin stretched ear to ear.

"You must be parched… I’ve just made some lemonade, would you like some? Petunia, fetch the lemonade, darling, would you?!" She didn’t even wait for Sirius to respond, motioning for him to sit on the enormous guava-coloured sofa as she settled into the armchair beside it. "Where did you meet Lily? Are you also…" She glanced around, then leaned in towards Sirius. "A wizard?"

Sirius masked his discomfort with a smug smile. He was good at that — had been trained his whole life to conceal what he didn’t feel, as naturally as the blood running through his veins.

"Yes. We studied together." Sirius let his gaze roam over the house’s décor — overly colourful and crammed with floral motifs. There were dogwoods woven into the rug, primroses on the wallpaper, magnolias painted onto the china on display.

"Do you know Mary as well? She pops round here from time to time." Mrs Evans glanced toward the kitchen, scratching her neck before looking back at him. "Such a lovely girl! Very talented."

"I do." Sirius forced a crooked smile. "But Evans… Lily…" he corrected himself with a small cough, "she’s one of the top in our year at Potions. The professor practically worships her…"

He trailed off as he caught Petunia returning from the kitchen in his peripheral vision.

"So, you’re a wizard too?!" she huffed, handing him the tray with a glass of lemonade. "Of course you are — why else would you be friends with Lily…"

"Petunia," her mother snapped, shooting her a look before turning back to Sirius with a pleasant smile. "It’s nice and cool, I’ve just made it…" She took the lemonade from the tray and placed it in his hand, watching him with eager eyes. "You’re such a handsome young man!"

No etiquette lesson drilled into him by his family had prepared him to respond appropriately to the awkwardness of that Muggle woman. He simply nodded and smiled, sheepish.

"Thank you." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to play off the compliment. He usually liked being complimented — thrived on having his ego stroked. But the usual pleasure wasn’t there.

"What are you doing here?!" Lily had just finished coming down the stairs, walking over to him with loudly flapping slippers.

"Lily! What sort of manners are those?!" her mother stood up, hands on her hips.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and there was nothing gentle about her eyes in that moment.

"Can we talk?" Sirius was grateful the embarrassing moment had ended with her arrival. "Alone." He glanced at her mother for only a second before returning his gaze to Lily.

All the tension and suspicion in Lily’s expression began to melt under the weight of urgency in Sirius’s voice. She blinked, nodded, and gave her mum a soft smile.

"Yes, darling, I’m going… it was a pleasure, Sirius." Mrs Evans pinched Sirius’s nose affectionately before rising from the armchair and shooing Petunia off to the kitchen with her.

"The pleasure was mine, Mrs Evans…" he murmured, staring at his reflection in the lemonade.

"Did something happen?" Lily asked, sitting where her mother had been moments before.

"It did." Sirius wet his lips. He’d rehearsed saying this a hundred times, and now that he was here, the words scattered like ash. "Didn’t you read the paper?"

"The paper? The Prophet?" She raised an eyebrow. "No… because of my parents… they get worried about the war."

Sirius nodded, taking a sip of the lemonade and letting the tartness twist through his taste buds.

"Scar’s parents… and her brother… died in a fire." He fought hard to keep his voice from cracking mid-sentence. He drew in a breath, fixing Lily with a hardened stare. "The funeral’s the day after tomorrow and… she’s lost everything… hasn’t even got clothes to wear… if you could lend her something… and if… you could come…" He spoke so quickly it took Lily a moment to register.

"What?" she whispered, stunned.

Lily covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes welling up with tears. Sirius rubbed his fingers along the chilled glass, fighting not to cry too. He couldn’t. Not while he still had things to do — things Nate had asked of him.

"How?! Is she… is she alright?" she gasped, wiping away the tears, her face painted with sorrow.

Sirius wanted to say yes. He didn’t. He shook his head reluctantly.

"I don’t know what else to do." It slipped out, and he wasn’t sure why he’d said it to Lily Evans. "If you want to—"

"Of course I want to go!" she cut him off, sniffling, her face flushing red. "I’ll be there."

Sirius merely nodded, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. He waved it and held it out to her.

"It’s the address for the Potters’ Floo," he explained before standing. "It’ll be after lunch."

"Sirius…"

"I’ve got to go, still have more places to be." He cut her off again, heading towards the door.

Lily stood quickly and followed him, her face caught between surprise and sorrow. She opened the door before he could reach the handle. Sirius avoided her gaze, slipped on his sunglasses, and gave a small wave.

"Sirius…" Lily called after him again. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a second before glancing at her sideways. "Are you alright?"

He froze like a statue for a moment.

"I will be," he lied, scratching his nose before heading back to his motorbike. "Oh… Evans… you should put a protective charm around your house. It’s… dangerous. Especially for you…"

"I will." Lily watched him kick-start the bike and roar off, blending into the stream of traffic down the road.

.

.

.

Before the fire, Sirius, James, and Remus had worked on Nancy to make her stable enough for solo flights, and they’d refined an invisibility charm, linking it to a button. It was the first time Sirius had flown alone, without James riding his broom alongside him.

It felt… odd. On the way to Lily’s house, he’d been so troubled he hardly noticed the wind whipping at his cheeks, buzzing in his ears, tossing his hair. Nor had he paid much attention to getting used to the balance of the motorbike or the view far below. The sun was beginning to set behind him, streaking the sky above with orange, pink, and lilac.

Sirius nosed Nancy downward, preparing to land, and touched down in a deserted alley. He turned off the invisibility charm and flicked on the headlights, cruising between terraced houses that reminded him a great deal of Grimmauld Place, slowing as he reached what should have been the Malfoy residence. Unlike the Evans home, the magic thick in the air here didn’t even allow him to see the house. Definitely a Fidelius.

He parked and dismounted, kicking down the stand, and stared at the gap where number 44 should have stood. He patted his pocket, retrieving the letter Pandora had sent him and read the address. The parchment burned away as the Malfoy home revealed itself: white walls draped in ivy, rooftops bursting with flowers, decorated with spinning pinwheels. A perfectly symmetrical garden at the front reminded him of the sprawling estates he’d visited as a child.

Disowned or not, they were still Malfoys.

Sirius grabbed the serpent-shaped knocker and struck the door three times. He’d barely stepped back and removed his sunglasses when the door opened to reveal a house-elf who looked him over top to bottom before offering a gentle smile.

"Yes, sir?" She raised an eyebrow at Sirius’s clothes, her long ears twitching as a sound from inside caught her attention.

"Black. Sirius Black. I’ve come to speak with Miss Malfoy."

"Ah, yes, of course, do come in…" She stepped aside, giving a slight bow.

If the Evans house was a textbook Muggle residence, the Malfoy home was a pure-blood manor, though there were Muggle artefacts dotted here and there. Unlike Grimmauld Place, they used electricity, and not all the portraits moved.

He was led into a large, elegant parlour with red curtains and armchairs, a Persian rug, wood-panelled walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows.

A soft throat-clearing drew his attention, his gaze landing on Pandora Malfoy, standing beside the grand piano. She always carried an air of serenity in her expression, and the way she held herself unsettled him, especially her stare. It was as if she could see all his faults with the mere flick of her pale irises.

"Hello, Sirius. How was the trip?" She clasped her hands in front of her body, and only then did he notice the gaudy dress she was wearing, covered in flamboyant sunflowers.

He shifted his eyes back to her delicate face.

"It was quick. Evans doesn’t live far from you." He tried to force a smile, but this girl made him deeply uncomfortable.

Pandora gestured for him to sit. As soon as Sirius relaxed his legs and leaned back into the upholstery, she turned her head.

"Mindy, would you bring us a refreshment?" she asked the house-elf.

"Of course, little Pan!" the elf’s voice practically bubbled with joy.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen anyone speak to a house-elf like that, but he made no comment.

"How is she?" Pandora sat on the piano bench, adjusting the hem of her dress over her knees.

Sirius cracked his knuckles one by one, eyes still fixed on her. Trying to find a word that could answer the question without making him break.

"Devastated." He clasped his hands, resting his chin on his fingers. "She can barely get out of bed."

Pandora nodded, her gaze drifting to the arabesque-covered rug, her pink lips twitching. She looked like one of the porcelain dolls his cousins used to play with, her skin just as delicate, her eyebrows pale.

"And you?" she asked, moving closer, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulders like strands of moonlight.

"I thought you’d be in Ireland with Lovegood." Sirius dodged the question, not breaking eye contact.

"I was going to, until I read the paper last week…" Pan tossed her curls over her shoulder.

"The funeral’s the day after tomorrow. Here’s the address for the Potters’ Floo… we’re getting to the place via a Portkey…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note, handing it to Pandora. "If your parents want to come too…"

"Yes, of course, I think they’d like to." She didn’t even glance at the address, her eyes fixed on him as though trying to draw all his emotions to the surface.

Sirius clenched his fists, suppressing those emotions, snuffing them out like a hundred birthday candles all at once, forcing the breath from his lungs.

"I need to go." He stood, forcing a half-smile. "Oh, if you could bring a few black dresses… so she can try some on and… she didn’t want to buy any and I… I didn’t have time, either." He swallowed hard, once again caught in the snare of those clear, knowing eyes.

Pandora offered a sombre smile, the kind that made it seem she knew exactly what he was thinking, like she could see right into his soul. Sirius took a step back, suddenly feeling exposed and intruded upon, his gaze darting to the piano.

"I… I probably have a few she could try. Although Scarlett does have a taste for some pretty tacky stuff sometimes…" she teased, making Sirius frown. Their fashion opinions had always clashed. "You look like a lost little puppy."

Sirius glared at her, his expression slowly darkening. He looked not just insulted, but also unsure. Afraid. Pandora Malfoy had always been odd to him — now that oddness felt almost repulsive.

"Shoving everything down like that is going to kill you someday," she went on, undisturbed by his reaction.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Sirius hissed, jaw tightening. "You don’t know—"

"No, I don’t," she cut in, glancing at the house-elf who had just returned with a tray carrying a jug and two crystal glasses. "Sit."

"I need to go," he repeated, neck muscles taut. "I know where the exit is."

"Mindy just made this for you!" Pandora insisted, pouring out two glasses. "Come on, Black, I don’t bite."

"I’m not scared, Malfoy." Sirius rolled his eyes, exhaling a dry scoff.

"No? Then why are you running?" She picked up the glasses and held one out, tilting her head with an incisive smile.

"I’m not… running." Sirius snorted derisively. "I just…"

His mouth froze, and he licked his lower lip several times, trying to summon arguments, words that made sense — anything to end the unbearable moment. But nothing came, because if it did, he’d break. And if he broke, he’d cry. And crying in front of Pandora Malfoy was absolutely not part of the plan.

"You know, when I saw you and Scar for the first time in the carriage on the way to Hogwarts… I felt a bit sorry for her, I’ll admit. I thought… that Black boy’s going to shatter her heart into so many pieces she might never put them back together. And I knew it would happen, because I knew you. At least, I thought I did." She sipped her drink, placing his on the table. "You were always cruel to anyone from Slytherin. You and your mates… always pulling pranks on us, even the ones who’d never done anything to you."

Sirius blinked, not expecting those words to hit him so hard.

"I… I didn’t… I didn’t know…"

"But—" Pandora cut him off once again, turning the glass slowly in her hands. "…you made her so happy that I couldn’t understand it. How could Scarlett fall for a boy so reckless, childish, and shallow? You hurt her… more than once. You were a tosser, and I thought— I truly believed you were everything Regulus said you were. But then I saw the way you looked at her while you danced at the Winter Ball… it’s the same way you’re looking at me now. That lost, slightly arrogant look, trying to mask your longing with smugness, acting like a prat just to avoid admitting how you actually feel. I realised then that you loved her… and that you weren’t as cowardly as Regulus, too afraid to step forward— but you also weren’t brave enough to say it out loud.

"And then you two started dating, and I had to put up with you, and it turned out… you’re not that bad. I mean, I still think you’re a tosser… but you saved her life. And now you’re shouldering all the weight she’d be carrying if she were alone. But… you’re not Atlas, Sirius. You can’t carry the whole bloody world on your shoulders."

Pandora’s face blurred suddenly. Sirius blinked hard, forcing back the tears that surged uncontrollably in a wave, choking him, making him gasp as he tried to suppress them. But they were too many, as if Pandora’s words had unwrapped everything he’d been holding in for days—tearing open the wound in his chest, making it bleed again. The feeling of waking in a panic, the agony of hearing Scarlett cry out for Orfeu, the desperation of holding her back, of stopping her from walking into the fire.

The scream Scarlett gave when she realised they were the only ones who made it out alive.

Sirius shuddered all over, a wave of nausea rising through his body, bile burning his throat. He wasn’t just crying—he was sobbing and coughing like he couldn’t breathe, like his lungs were still full of smoke and Scarlett’s screams were tangled with the crackling of flames.

Pandora pulled him into a hug, though he didn’t return it. His hands stayed over his face, his body curled in on itself, feeling the soft pats she gave his back, her ridiculous dress brushing against his leather jacket.

"That’s what friends are for, you know?" she murmured. "To help you carry the weight of the world."

Sirius only grunted, his mechanical breathing swallowing his words and stealing his breath. Not that he needed to say anything—Pandora had dissected him with such ease that he felt utterly foolish now, crying in the arms of his girlfriend’s best friend after refusing to do the same with Remus. A flush of shame surged at his core, and he made a half-hearted attempt to push her away, but Pandora didn’t let him.

"I…" was all that left his lips, the sound trembling and vague.

"I know, Sirius." Pandora said it with such gentleness that he wanted to scream at her. "I know."

Despite everything, Sirius Black was still just a seventeen-year-old boy with too much trauma and too little emotional intelligence. So all that followed were muddled words, soaked in suffering. He was terrible at this—admitting weakness, asking for help. Pandora knew that. Regulus and Sirius weren’t all that different—they’d come from the same home, were raised the same twisted way, the warped touch of their parents still etched deep into them.

Usually, it was Scarlett who comforted Sirius. And when the roles reversed, he felt that absence keenly. He missed having someone hold him without judgement or bitterness—just… understanding. He couldn’t do that with Remus; their bond hadn’t been the same since what he did with Snape. He still felt inhibited, hesitant.

And Pandora… she was doing a bloody good job of piecing him back together. One hand rubbing his back, the other stroking his hair. Sirius didn’t let just anyone touch his hair—that alone was a strong vote of trust, not to shove her away the moment those pale, thin fingers brushed through his dark locks.

Before he even realised, he was back on the sofa, sipping that damned refreshment. His chest was riddled with involuntary spasms, making it hard to drink without choking. Even so, he forced himself to do it, calming slowly, wiping his wet, red face with one hand.

"What do you need?" Pandora asked, crossing her legs. As if he hadn’t just been sobbing like a child moments earlier.

Sirius shrugged, pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Apart from the clothes? If… if you could get there early and…" He faltered, clearing his throat. "Talk to her a bit. I don’t know. I’ve never planned a funeral before, but it’s mostly up to Scar’s family… it’ll be in Italy, or something…"

"And after that? Are you two moving in together?" The question was so direct it left Sirius reeling.

"I don’t know… she… she didn’t want to live with me before everything happened… I think she’s going to stay with her uncle…" Sirius pressed his lips together, trying to hide the hurt that crept in with the words. "But I bought a house. And I want to… I’ve been looking for a piano… for her. She had a Steinway & Sons, and I checked the prices of a few… but I’ve got no bloody clue which one to get."

Pandora smiled, clearly pleased.

"My uncle owns a piano shop. He can help us out. If you want, of course." She tapped her fingers along the arm of the sofa. "What else?"

"I think… I think that’s it." Sirius faltered, still a bit stunned by how she’d taken the reins of the situation.

"Very well. I’ll speak to him and send you an answer. I’ll get to the Potters’ place early too. And… thank you for proving I was partially wrong about you." She grinned, lightening the mood.

Sirius allowed himself a scoffing chuckle as he stood.

"Partially?" He placed a hand over his chest in mock offence. "I’m the nicest bloke in that school!"

"Oh, not even close!" Pandora elbowed him as she passed.

"You’re a Slytherin, your opinion doesn’t count!" He followed her to the hallway.

"I was going to say you have the best hair in Hogwarts, but since my opinion’s irrelevant…" She waved her hand as though brushing the subject away.

"It counts… partially ," Sirius said with casual ease as he stepped out of the Malfoy house when Pandora opened the door for him.

She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. That discomfort he’d always felt in her presence was gone now. He bid her farewell with a small smile, slipping on his sunglasses.

"Sirius…" Pandora called after him as he was halfway across the symmetrical garden. "Take care of her."

"I will," he replied, raising a hand in a wave as he pulled the motorbike keys from his pocket.

"And stop riding that bloody motorbike drunk… I could smell the whisky from here." Pandora scrunched her nose, like he reeked. Then her voice turned serious. "Scarlett won’t survive losing you too."

Sirius couldn’t stop the stab of guilt that lodged itself in his chest at the rebuke. He wasn’t drunk — or at least he didn’t think he was — but Pandora was right.

"Yes, ma’am." He nodded as he mounted Nancy. "Thanks, Pandora." He finally managed to say, his voice soft, with a shy smile.

"You can call me Pan."

"If I call you Pan, Regulus’ll kill me." He kicked the starter pedal of the bike. "See you the day after tomorrow… Pan."

Sirius revved the engine before she could respond.

.

.

.

Scarlett ran her fingers over the dozens of black dresses laid out on her bed, unable to choose one. They all looked the same, meaningless… dead.

"I don’t want to go, Pan," Scarlett murmured, lifting her gaze to her friend. "I don’t want to go."

It was the first time she’d ever seen Pandora in somber clothing. Her curls were pinned up in a bun and she wore no makeup, yet her cheeks were perfectly rosy, like a doll’s.

"Scar…" She touched her shoulder firmly. "Your parents deserve a farewell, and you deserve the chance to say goodbye."

Scarlett gave a melancholy smile, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold in all the emotions threatening to burst from her chest. She blinked, shaking her head as if to push everything away, her face contorting in a grimace of sorrow, though not a single tear fell.

"I don’t know if I’m ready, Pan." Her voice cracked several times, as if speaking were too much to bear. "I don’t think I ever will be." She stared at the dresses, though she wasn’t really seeing them. She was far too busy trying to bury the pain in her chest, desperate to be rid of it. "I just… I want it all to disappear and…"

What was the point in saying anything? As fleeting as the wind leaving her lungs, her family’s life had been snatched away. Nothing she said could change that, no matter how much she wished it, how hard she begged — what was done was done, and all that was left was acceptance. Pandora pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek in a way that reminded her painfully of her mother.

Scarlett remained frozen, as if staying perfectly still might make time pause and rewind, undoing life’s cruelties and bringing back those who never should’ve gone. It was asking too much — she knew that. She asked anyway, rubbing her Ouroboros.

Sirius appeared at the door, dressed in black from head to toe. That was his colour — it always had been. Black suited him, gave him an air of nobility and grace. He looked at her with that ever-present worry, smiling in that way that always made her heart skip a beat, even if he wasn’t truly happy. Sirius was good at pretending he didn’t feel anything. Scarlett was shit at it, because all she could offer back was a grimace to dam the pain spilling out of her chest.

"Dull," Scarlett muttered at the dress she was holding, tossing it to the floor. She knew Lily had brought it, but she couldn’t help herself.

"Why don’t you try this one?" Lily suggested as she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed so elegantly that Scarlett wrinkled her nose.

"Why are you even here? We’re not friends..."

"Scarlett," Sirius scolded, like she was a little girl. She shot him a sharp look before exhaling and nodding.

"Sorry," she mumbled, facing the redhead, who replied with a kind smile. "Ugly, too long, I hate strapless, too hot for this time of year..." She discarded four more, leaving five.

"My favourite is this one," Pandora pointed to a sleeveless dress that fell just to the knees, made of a matte fabric.

"Mine too," Lily agreed, lifting it and holding it up in front of Scarlett’s body as if trying to measure whether it would fit.

And that was a mistake, because Scarlett got lost in those brilliant green eyes that seemed to transport her to another reality — a place where all that existed was the whisper of the wind, the green of the grass, and the warmth of the sun. She nodded silently, after staring at Lily for what felt like an eternity.

Scarlett took a step back and pulled off Sirius’s David Bowie T-shirt without a shred of shame, making her boyfriend’s eyes go wide, Lily cover her face in embarrassment, and Pandora raise an eyebrow at the sight of her breasts.

Then she slipped off her shorts and put on the dress in one smooth motion, with Pandora helping to adjust the shoulders and Lily tugging it down over her legs, until it fit just right. She heard Sirius sigh, still leaning against the doorframe, staring at her like she was the only thing that existed in the world.

"Let’s just get this over with," Scarlett grumbled, taking the fascinator Lily handed her.

Sirius remained in the doorway, blocking the path, forcing her to meet those two glittering stars. He tossed his hair back with a flick of his head and leaned in, cupping her face in both hands.

"Where’s my kiss?" He furrowed his brow, and Scarlett’s heart thundered in her chest.

Their lips touched so softly it could barely be called a kiss — more like a caress that echoed across her skin and reverberated through her soul, soothing the gaping vortex spinning in her chest.

"I’ll be with you the whole time, alright?" Sirius’s voice passed over her lips, their noses brushing together.

"I know." Scarlett allowed herself to smile, wrapped in the sweet mist that was Sirius. "I love you."

"I know." He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead. "I love you."

Their hands intertwined before they descended the staircase of the Potters’ house. Scarlett’s gaze drifted over everyone present. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, James, Remus, Fleamont, Ignatius Prewett, Dominic Malfoy, Frank Longbottom, and the Aurors accompanying them — all of them removed their hats. Euphemia, Lucretia Black, Alice Longbottom, and Iris Malfoy offered kind smiles and words of comfort.

"Ready?" Her uncle Nate emerged from the Floo fireplace, carrying a plant jar.

Sirius looked at Scarlett, giving her hand a gentle squeeze to snap her out of the catatonic daze.

"Ready," Scar murmured, and she was the first to touch the jar when Thanatos set it on a table and whispered the spell to activate it.

Everything spun. The floral scent of the Potters’ house was replaced by the salt air, the warm, humid breeze, the blazing sun, the island stretching over the tranquil waters of the Adriatic Sea. The sea was such a brilliant, crystalline blue that it looked like the sky had been dyed aquamarine.

It felt strange to be there after two years. It was as if she’d lived an entire lifetime away. So picturesque, so bucolic, it felt like another reality — as though the events of the outside world weren’t significant enough to reach this sanctuary her great-great-grandparents had built with such care.

On one side stretched a vast lavender field, a family estate. The rows were in full bloom, tinting the landscape in purples and blues, filling the air with a soothing fragrance.

On the other side lay the cemetery, embraced by weeping willows. She had never understood why her great-great-grandmother loved them so much, but now, in the sacred silence that danced between their branches, Scarlett understood. The soft music the summer breeze played through the leaves was somewhat mournful, nostalgic, introspective.

She watched the dance of the light green leaves, her gaze drifting to the stocks, pansies, and red roses blooming between the gravestones, bringing colour to the pale stones, decorating death with life.

"Scar!" A voice she knew well called out. A little distance away, part of her family awaited them. Her cousin Aether ran up to her, his bowler hat flying off his dark hair as he pulled her into a tight hug.

She stiffened completely, feeling Sirius let go of her hand as Aether squeezed her in a way only longing could.

"I’m so, so, so sorry..." he whispered into her ear, full of sorrow.

Aether Sallow was shorter than Sirius but taller than Scarlett. He had dark brown hair and light brown eyes. There was an undeniable resemblance between them, especially because of the freckles across his face.

"That’s enough, Terry," Scarlett muttered, pushing him away. "You’ve hugged me enough for the whole bloody year..." she grumbled, pulling a thoroughly unimpressed face.

"Stop being a cow," he shot back, only to receive a sharp smack to the back of the head from Scarlett. "Ow, alright, alright, I was joking…"

"Yeah, that’s enough, Terry, she doesn’t even like you," Moros shoved Aether roughly, making Sirius sidestep the stumbling boy.

Scarlett took a deep breath before accepting a hug from Moros. Unlike his brother, he was tall and blond, with sun-kissed skin and no freckles. They had different mothers.

"I wish I were seeing you under different circumstances, Scarly, but... I’m here now," he said, kissing her forehead a dozen times before finally letting go.

Scar hated how clingy her family was.

Then it was time to greet her uncles. Erebus was Nyx’s older brother, so alike her that Scarlett’s chest tightened as he pulled her into his arms. Then came her grandfather Leto, before the Gaunt side of the family overwhelmed her with hugs, kisses, and tender gestures that made her cry instinctively.

"You’re her boyfriend?!" Aether greeted Sirius with a handshake.

"Sirius Black," he introduced himself, feeling the boy deliberately apply pressure to his palm. He squeezed back, raising an eyebrow.

"When the old man sees you, he’ll want to die…" Moros remarked, stepping beside his brother and giving Sirius an amused look. "Moros Sallow, pleasure to meet you."

"He’s going to launch into that speech of his about how he spat into the wind…" Aether gave a mischievous grin. "You can call me Terry, Sirius."

Sirius returned a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head.

"You’re as handsome as my granddaughter said…" Scarlett’s grandfather, Leto, commented as he held onto his hat against the wind. "Welcome to Sallow Island, Sirius."

Leto didn’t look a day over thirty, which threw Sirius completely. Then a man of his same height, with plenty of freckles across his face, stepped forward and offered his hand. His brown hair was streaked with white, and his eyes burned amber in the sunlight.

"You must be Sirius Black," he said, raising his chin and offering a courteous smile. Sirius simply nodded. "You saved her, Black… and for that, we will be forever grateful."

"Did you know he’s a descendant of Phineas, grandad?" Moros said with a sly grin.

"I know, Rossy. And if you don’t stop pestering him about it, I’ll tell your gran and she’ll hex you for the rest of the summer…"

That must’ve been serious, because Moros’s brow creased and his grin turned into a startled expression.

"He was only joking, grandad…" Aether stepped in to defend his brother, but fell silent at a single gesture from the man.

"This isn’t the time or place for that, Terry. Show some respect for your uncles — we’re here to honour their memory, not to be cruel to our guests." He shot Aether a scathing look. "I’m Sebastian Sallow, Scarly’s great-great-grandfather."

Sirius blinked a few times, trying to do the maths on the age of a man who didn’t look a day over fifty. He failed, distracted by the sheer number of people he had to greet. He shook so many hands, received so many thank-yous, it all became a blur — as if he were some kind of hero.

He might have been, but Sirius couldn’t feel anything beyond failure.

Scarlett remained in the arms of her great-great-grandmother until everyone had exchanged pleasantries and stood waiting for her to move. She had never quite got used to her great-grandmother’s two-coloured eyes — one red, the other grey. Every time that crimson iris scrutinised her, a chill ran up her spine. Still, she smiled and accepted the kiss to her forehead with gratitude.

Melanie Sallow never seemed to change. Scar always remembered her the same way — easy smiles, golden hair, and enigmatic eyes. The statue in the Forbidden Forest didn’t do her beauty justice, nor her grace.

"You’ll go first, my dear," she murmured into Scarlett’s hair.

Scarlett straightened up, nodding, searching the crowd for Sirius. He moved through her cousins like a fish swimming against the current, drawn towards her as though guided by starlight.

Sirius took her hand and she gasped, biting her lower lip hard, forcing her legs to move through the wind-swept grass. She passed the graves of her family — Ominis and Anne Gaunt, Melly and Vince Rookwood, Adam and Fanny Gaunt… and her great-grandmother who had gifted her the piano, Gwendolyn Sallow, née Weasley.

Her chest tightened painfully and she buried her face in Sirius’s black tailcoat, letting the fine fabric absorb her tears. She barely registered the movement near her parents’ and Orfy’s headstones. She was far too immersed in the soothing strokes Sirius drew down her spine, the way his arm curled securely around her waist. Scarlett took a deep breath, turning gently at the sound of a guitar being strummed.

Moros was playing the opening chords of a song. Scarlett stood in silence as Aether began to sing — and that was the final straw. Rage overwhelmed grief, so blinding that Scarlett spun on her heel, eyes bulging as she glared at her cousins.

[Song: Led Zeppelin — The Rain Song]  

"Is this the bloody Beatles?!" she snapped, making several of her relatives flinch in surprise.  

"Um, yeah…" Terry confirmed, his voice faltering. "Orfy… liked the Beatles… didn’t he?" He shrugged, bewildered by the sudden outburst.  

Moros, however, didn’t stop playing the melody — which only seemed to enrage Scarlett further. Unable to restrain herself, she tore away from Sirius and stormed towards her cousins. She marched up to Moros, who was holding the guitar, and tried to wrench it from his hands.  

"Stop playing this shit!" she hissed, her voice trembling.  

He resisted at first, shocked and confused by Scarlett’s sudden aggression, engaged in a tug of war with her over the guitar. That was when Sirius stepped in, placing himself beside Scarlett, just as stunned as the others.  

It is the springtime of my loving  

The second season I am to know  

"Let go of the guitar, Sallow," he said, tone laced with threat.  

Moros obeyed, lifting his hands as though surrendering. With the instrument in her grasp, Scarlett let the whirlwind of emotions burst from her chest. She dragged the guitar towards her parents’ gravestone, raising it as high as she could.  

You are the sunlight in my growing  

So little warmth I've felt before  

It isn't hard to feel me glowing  

I watched the fire that grew so low, oh  

"ORFY NEVER LIKED THE BLOODY BEATLES!" Scarlett screamed, slamming the guitar against the stone. "He liked…" The vibration of the strings on impact echoed through her words. "… the Jackson Five! You’re a bloody moron, Aether — no one likes this crap except you and James!"   

"I’m sorry, Scarly, I—" Aether stepped forward, but Sirius blocked him with an outstretched arm.  

"I hate you! You cut my hair when I was seven and laughed at me with Missy… and you, Moros — you act like a little angel, but I know it was you who set my doll on fire that summer in ’70!" She jabbed her finger at both of them.  

Sirius didn’t know whether he should move closer or wait for the rage to pass. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure it was safe to touch her just yet, so he stayed put.  

"James Potter…" Scarlett’s voice was thick with fury and regret, making James straighten up in shock. "No one likes the Beatles, people only listen to that rubbish because they don’t know any better! Grow up and get some actual taste in music — the Beatles are for little kids!"

James looked around at everyone, his face flushed and lips parted in astonishment.

"Remus, it’s bloody impossible to guess what’s wrong with you if you stay silent all bloody day! Say something — none of us have a crystal ball to figure it out! Lily, you act all innocent in front of everyone, but I know you read erotic novels! And Pandora… I hate how much you look like a bloody doll! Why is your skin so smooth and so… bloody perfect?! Fuck off!" She took a sharp breath, her blue eyes piercing through everyone in her path. "You’re a coward!" she shouted, pointing at her great-great-grandmother. "You built this perfect little world, isolated from everything, instead of using your power to end the war! With you, it wouldn’t have lasted a bloody year! My parents wouldn’t have died! Orfy would still be here and—" Scarlett scrubbed the tears from her face angrily.

"My dear…" Melanie tried to speak.

"No!" Scarlett slammed the guitar’s arm against the gravestone. "And you!" Her finger shot toward Sirius. "I hate you. I hate your stupid, rebellious, perfect hair, how your eyes look like fucking stars, how bloody beautiful you are. I hate how you make me feel like the most incredible girl in the universe. I hate the way you hide your emotions, how hard you try to make us work. How you make me feel loved. I hate how, when I scream at you and curse you out, you kiss me in return. I hate the way you hold me when I fall apart. For Merlin’s sake, I hate how hard you’re trying to make me happy after everything that happened… even when you know I feel like shit… you’re still there, holding my hand and telling me it’s going to be okay… I hate that I can’t do anything but cry and curl up in that fucking bed and… you were supposed to break my heart, Sirius, not give yours to me in return ! "

Scarlett stepped back, breathless and tear-streaked, kicking the broken bits of the guitar as sobs spilled down her flushed cheeks. Then she flipped off the entire crowd and ran.

.

.

.

Scarlett lay back in the grass, staring at the enormous cloud overhead shaped like a girl with flowers in her hair. It swallowed all the light and warmth the sun offered, as if mirroring her state of mind.

"I ruined everything, didn’t I, grandad?" Scar asked softly, not even moving her eyes.

Lightning flashed in the sky, casting flickers of light across her face.

"Everyone deals with grief in their own way," Sebastian said, blowing out cigar smoke, holding it delicately in one hand. "But you did leave Rossy and Terry properly gobsmacked..."

"I’ll apologise later..." Scarlett sighed.

Sebastian sat beside her, resting his elbow on his knee, his brown eyes lifting to stare at the same point in the sky as hers. The wind stirred his hair, rustled the collar of his shirt, and carried away the cigar smoke.

It is the summer of my smiles  

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom  

"Will it go away? This pain. Will it go away someday?" Scarlett placed both hands on her chest, pressing her lips together as she awaited an answer.

Sebastian let out a low, nostalgic laugh — not one of joy, but of something older, heavier.

Speak to me only with your eyes  

It is to you, I give this tune  

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh  

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh  

"No, my dear," he replied, lowering his gaze to her. Sebastian Sallow was a handsome man; like Scarlett, his face was dusted with freckles. A symmetrical nose and chocolate-brown eyes. "One day, you’ll think you’ve moved on... until something reminds you of them, and it all comes back — like a punch to the gut. We only ever learn to live with their absence, Scar… but learning to live without them? Impossible." He reached out and stroked her hair gently.

"There has to be something… anything… that can be done… that—" she stammered, wiping away her tears with frustration. "It’s not fair…"

"Life is fleeting, Scarly. We still have the privilege of time being less cruel to us because of the ancient magic, but that doesn’t apply to those we love. I lost my sister, my best mates, my nephews… Death, she’s always there. Lurking, waiting to wrap you up, kiss you, and take you away… and all we’re left with are the moments we had, the memories we nurtured, the loves we allowed to bloom. And one day, even that fades away."

The wind picked up, bringing with it a delicious summer rain. Miasmas fizzed above them, though thunder rolled without lightning. Scarlett watched the birds that had taken shelter in the trees burst into flight, vanishing into the grey expanse.

"Had to be a Black, huh?" Sebastian teased, shielding his face from the drops with his hand. "You’ve got more than fifty cousins and you had to go and choose him?!"

Scarlett let out a laugh from deep within, a sound that shattered all the rigidity, slicing through the pain that had been tearing her apart.

Talk, talk, talk, talk  

Hey, I felt the coldness of my winter  

"Don’t stay out in the rain too long, Scarly, or you’ll catch a chill," Sebastian said as he stood, glancing down at her one last time before walking away.

Scarlett nearly scoffed at that. She wasn’t worried about colds, or the chill now creeping through her shivering limbs, or the sound of waves crashing against the nearby cliffs. So many things had stopped making sense. Tears mixed with the rain, but she wasn’t exactly crying or curling up in grief. She simply accepted what life had given — and what it had taken.

I never thought it would ever go  

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, 'pon us, 'pon us  

But I know that I love you so  

It was almost cathartic, the realisation that half the things she'd once thought important now didn’t matter at all. All the petty arguments, the hidden grudges, the trivial irritations. All the guilt she carried about her mother, the anxiety over her father, the frustration with Orfy. It had all turned to ash with the fire — carried away by the breeze of death.

Oh, but I know  

That I love you so  

The rain stopped falling on her face, and she opened her eyes. It was Sirius, holding an umbrella, his face painted with worry and tenderness. He leaned down toward her, black hair falling forward, his eyes reflecting the flashes in the sky.

"You’ll catch a cold if you stay out in the rain," he murmured gently, meeting her gaze.

These are the seasons of emotion  

And like the wind, they rise and fall  

This is the wonder of devotion  

"If I get sick, you’ll take care of me," she replied, a melancholic smile playing on her lips, her voice carrying a certainty that made it sound like fact.

Sirius returned the smile, quietly resigned. Scarlett felt butterflies stir in her stomach.

I see the torch  

We all must hold  

"What choice do I have?" he teased, sitting down beside her. The wind whipped the rain sideways, dampening their shoulders.

Scarlett rose slowly, bracing herself with both hands on the wet grass, seeking his gaze in the light of a passing lightning bolt. Sirius was still holding the umbrella, shielding them partially from the downpour.

"Is there anything else you hate that I should know about?" he asked, brushing the wet hair from his face.

"This stupid hat." Scarlett tugged at the fascinator and yanked it from her hair with force, flinging it away like a discus.

This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient  

Upon us all, upon us all, a little rain must fall  

Just a little rain, oh, yeah  

She wrapped her arms around Sirius, resting her face on his shoulder as she settled onto his lap. He held her close, letting the umbrella be carried off by the wind, the rain quickly soaking through their clothes, speckling his short beard.

"You're freezing," Sirius said, his warm palm cupping Scarlett’s cheek. She looked up at him without moving, her eyes locked on those two stars woven into his dark hair.

"You're warm," she whispered, finding comfort in his heat.

Scarlett lifted her head and kissed Sirius. The world around them seemed to slow down. The sounds of the island — the murmur of the sea, the whisper of the wind, the song of the storm — all became part of that thing that surged in Scarlett’s blood and settled in Sirius’s veins. It was cold and warm, pain and peace, rain and sunlight.

It was imprinted in the scent of lavender, the smell of wet earth, the salt of the sea breeze. In the soft touch of their tongues, the promise etched deep in their chests, the warmth of their mouths, the mischief in their hands, the roaring of their hearts.

Simple and complicated, it was anguish and longing, attraction and obsession, solid and fluid. The thread that had so fiercely ensnared them, wrapped and bound in an irrevocable, coarse, sharp knot — impossible to undo.

It was love. A young love, naïve and whimsical. Illusory and hopeful.

Sweet.  

Sweet as a summer rain.  

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXV

Scarlett nestled against Sirius’s chest, hypnotised by the way the firelight played across his pale face. They were wrapped in a blanket, and he held a mug of hot chocolate, despite it being summer. Beside them, on the same sofa, Remus was engaged in a light conversation with Pandora, Lily and Moros, who were seated on the diagonal couch. Aether was sprawled out in an armchair, sipping on some pumpkin juice.

“So… you met at Hogwarts?” Aether asked, eyeing them.

“Us two?” Sirius pointed between himself and Scarlett. Aether nodded. “Nah, Scar, she… she… was… James’s neighbour,” he explained, toying with a strand of his girlfriend’s hair.

“I already knew them,” Fleamont chimed in. “I met Leto when I was doing business in Italy.”

“And Sirius practically lived at my house, so…” James shrugged.

A few of Scarlett’s relatives gathered around the fireplace, watching the conversation unfold.

“Are they all Slytherins?” Sebastian asked, gesturing toward them.

Scarlett gave an awkward smile as she shook her head.

“Sirius is a Gryffindor, grandad,” she said, resting her forehead against her boyfriend’s chin.

“A Black? In Gryffindor?” The patriarch raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“In my defence… I’m the only Black in history to end up in Gryffindor,” Sirius said, sipping from his hot chocolate.

“We’re all Gryffindors. Only Malfoy’s a Slytherin—her and Scar,” James added.

“Not sure if I should be happy or gutted…” Sebastian frowned.

“Speaking of which… do you have a relative called Phineas Nigellus?” Moros asked, and all eyes turned to Sirius.

He gave a sheepish smile.

“Funny, the first conversation I had with Orfy was exactly about that…” His lips curled into a nostalgic grin. “Whether I knew he had boils.”

The comment drew a burst of laughter from the gathered family members, and Scarlett took a deep breath, savouring the sweetness the memory left on her tongue.

“Orfy was a little demon,” Moros said, putting his sandwich aside. “Once I tied him upside down on grandma’s tree for a laugh, and when he managed to get free, the little fucker sicced a snake on me! Don’t think I’ve ever legged it that fast in my life—he was pissing himself laughing!”

“True, you came home bawling like Scarly did when I cut her hair,” Aether said, wiping his face as if drying fake tears.

“Fuck off, Terry!” Moros flipped his brother the finger.

“He caught me and Sirius snogging in the kitchen,” Scarlett added, her eyes on the steam curling up from the hot chocolate in front of her face.

Sirius scratched his eye, lips stretching into a genuine smile.

“Bloody hell, that’s right… on top of interrupting our kiss, he blackmailed us,” he added, savouring the memory.

“Classic Orfy…” Aether was smiling. And crying.

“He made Sirius beat up some lads who were picking on him at the arcade… or he’d tell Mum and Dad,” Scar went on, shrinking further under the blanket as Sirius’s hand found hers, gripping it before the wave of emotion could sweep her away.

“And did you beat them up?” Moros stared at Sirius.

“Knocked all three of them down, but ended up with a shiner…”

“All that just so your parents wouldn’t find out about you two? You wanted to keep it that quiet?” Sebastian prodded, clearly amused by the flush rising in Scarlett’s cheeks.

“It was Sirius’s idea!” Scarlett protested.

“You… you asked me if I had a problem with it and why I kissed you!” Sirius looked at her, jaw dropped, like she’d just betrayed him.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss me!” Scarlett covered her cheeks with her hands to hide the shame.

“No, no… Scarlett… you kissed me back!” Sirius shot back, flustered. “More than once!”

“Sirius… you really wanna have this conversation in front of my entire family?!” Scarlett laughed, wanting to bury herself in the blanket.

“Oh, don’t mind us, carry on… we don’t care…” Her great-great-grandmother, Melanie, said, waving a hand in their direction. “You two are just adorable.”

“You two are just adorable…” Moros mimicked Melanie in a high-pitched voice, earning a smack on the head from Sebastian. “Oi!”

“Show some respect to your great-great-grandmother, you little git!” he scolded, though all authority faded the moment his wife hugged him.

“Now we know where she gets her grace from…” James teased, patting Scar on the head.

“Shut it, Jamie!” Scarlett rolled her eyes as she finished her hot chocolate.

The conversation carried on through the afternoon, and by nightfall, most of her family had already left, leaving only Scarlett’s guests and the hosts of the house, Sebastian and Melanie.

“Scarly, darling, may I have a word?” her great-great-grandmother called gently, motioning for her to follow.

Scarlett nodded, unwrapping herself from the blanket and feeling Sirius’s hand tighten around hers.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously before softening with a smile. “Alright. If anything happens… scream.”

Scarlett let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she stepped out of the cosy sitting room. She walked down a hallway lined with family photographs and entered her great-great-grandfather’s study. Sebastian Sallow was already there with his grandson Leto, as well as Thanatos Gaunt, who was the great-great-grandson of her twin sister.

“I don’t think it’s safe, Nate,” Leto said, leaning against the desk, while Thanatos sat on one side and Sebastian on the other.

“Ah, Scarly.” Sebastian gave her a worried smile, motioning for her to come closer.

Scarlett’s eyes swept across her great-great-grandfather’s study. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d snuck in there without permission, playing with Bonnie and later with Orfy, always getting caught by the portrait of Miriam, who had just arrived now, a book in her arms and spectacles dangling from a chain on her nose.

“Oh, if it isn’t a face I haven’t seen in a while…” Miriam smiled, and Scarlett gave her a shy wave. “I’m sorry for what happened, dear.”

Scarlett had been feeling much lighter throughout the day, but Miriam’s words pressed a sudden weight onto her chest, dragging her back to the reason she was there. Her fingers instinctively traced the scar on her forearm, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Thank you, Miriam.”

Melanie entered and shut the study door, sitting beside Sebastian, her grey and red eyes locking onto Scarlett with unnerving intensity.

“Scarlett, we need to decide who you’re going to stay with,” she said, folding her arms. Her expression was stern. The red eye gave Scarlett a shiver.

“What do you mean, who I’m going to stay with?” Scar looked from Nate to Leto. “I’m of age—I don’t need a bloody babysitter…”

“That’s not the problem, my dear,” her grandfather Leto said, taking her hand and pulling back the glove until the Ouroboros was revealed. He bore a Signet on his left hand as well—a snake curled around itself. “You-Know-Who is after the Signets and… there’s no safer place in the world than our island.”

Scarlett’s breath caught, and she gripped her grandfather’s chair, eyes brimming.

“You want me to stay here?” she asked, staring at Sebastian. He nodded. “I’m not running away!”

“No one’s talking about running, Scarlett,” Melanie said sharply. “It’s dangerous out there. The death of your parents, and of Orfy…”

Scarlett’s brows knitted together, her nostrils flaring.

“I’m not a coward! I’m not… I’m not going to run just because—” she began to snap, only to be cut off by Sebastian.

“This isn’t about bravery or cowardice, Scarly,” he said, wetting his lips. “They tried to kidnap Missy on the same day as the attack on your house. And we’ve decided to close the island again. No one in, no one out.”

Scarlett blinked, stunned, unable to believe what she’d just heard.

“What?”

“We did the same during the Great War,” Melanie said, running a hand through her golden hair streaked with white. “At least until this war is over…”

“No!” Scarlett gasped. “I’m not going to hide like you lot do!”

“You can live with me, Scar,” Nate suggested, a cigar clamped between his lips. “My place is safe and—”

“I’m not living with you, Uncle!” Scarlett screwed up her face as if it were the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard. “I can bloody well live on my own!”

“You can’t live alone. It’s far too dangerous, my angel,” Leto tried to soothe her, which only made Scarlett more exasperated.

“Oh, so I’ve got to do whatever you lot say? What I want doesn’t matter?”

“No, Scarlett, but we can’t allow your Signet—”

“So it’s the Ouroboros you’re worried about, not me?!” Scarlett’s voice rose. “Believe me, if I’d had a choice not to be born with this fucking thing, I’d have taken it!”

Melanie fell silent with a hiss of breath, massaging her temples. She too bore a Signet—a serpent that coiled from her upper arm all the way down to the back of her hand. She had passed that mark to all her direct descendants.

“I’ll look after her,” Thanatos said, tapping his cigar on the ashtray. “I’m not staying on the island anyway…”

“I’m not living with you, Uncle!” Scarlett growled, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Dumbledore offered me the post for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I think I’ll take it. That way, I’ll be nearby…” he added, sounding bored.

“Scarly… we just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy. To prevent what happened to your family…” Sebastian looked at her with unease.

“For fuck’s sake, grandad, that’s low—even for you!” Scar snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk. “My family would still be here if you lot had left this godforsaken hole and actually done something about Voldemort!”

The mention of the name unravelled the tension in the room. Melanie exhaled as if trying to hold something back, her heterochromatic eyes fixed on Scarlett—one grey, flashing like a storm, the other crimson, gleaming like fresh blood.

“I defeated Ranrok… Victor Rookwood… Victoire Rookwood… Ruth Singer…” Melanie spun her wedding ring furiously around her finger. “I lost too many along the way. And the moment I struck one down, another rose in their place… Grindelwald… and now, Voldemort. It’s a never-ending fight, Scarlett, and I… I’m tired. I’ve lived a hundred years and with each passing one, I’m more certain—I’m no heroine, and I don’t want to be. That path only brings sorrow and death. And I… I just want you to be happy.”

Scarlett let out a laugh laced with bitter scorn.

“I won’t be happy here, gran. Away from everything… away from my friends…”

“You’ll be with your family,” Leto said gently, offering a sad smile.

“They’re my family too, Grandpa,” Scarlett replied, brushing a hand through his blond hair.

“Can’t believe we’re being traded for a Gryffindor Black,” Sebastian said with a smirk, finally breaking the tension in the room.

Scarlett gave a small, bashful shake of her head.

“I really like him,” she admitted at last.

“I hope he makes you happy,” Melanie said softly, looking at her with warmth. “The moment you leave the island…”

“I won’t come back,” Scar finished for her, the smile dissolving into sadness. “So this is goodbye, then?”

“Yes… until the war ends,” Sebastian said quietly, as if waiting for her to change her mind.

Scarlett didn’t.

Saying goodbye to them wasn’t easy. It felt like losing what was left of her family all over again. She cried quietly in her great-great-grandparents’ arms, gave her grandfather a tight hug, received kisses on the forehead from her cousins, and waved to Miriam’s portrait, which watched her with such gentleness that Scarlett felt a pang of guilt.

She walked alone among the gravestones, laying flowers at her parents’ grave and then at Bonnie’s. Staying on the island, with that concrete reminder that they were gone, would’ve been unbearable. As much as they’d helped her pull herself together, being there without her parents and Orfy just felt… wrong. Like something was missing.

Scarlett joined the group gathered near the lavender fields, where the Portkey that would take them back to the Potters’ house awaited. She scanned the crowd for Sirius and spotted him walking among the lavender beside her great-great-grandfather.

“It was very brave of you to save her from the fire, Black,” Sebastian said, gazing at the stars before looking at him. The night made his eyes so dark it was hard to tell the iris from the pupil. “I know I already thanked you once, but I wanted to thank you again.”

Sirius shoved his hands into the pockets of his frock coat and came to a halt, feeling the lilac blooms brush against his trousers. He looked up at Sebastian, wanting to feel glad to hear those words, but all he felt was disappointment. His mouth tasted like ash.

“I should’ve… I should’ve gone back into the fire and… looked for Orfy… Scar saw him… he was still alive and… she tried… b-but I didn’t let her…” Sirius stammered, clearing his throat, trying to sound more composed. “I should’ve…”

“You did what you could, Black,” Sebastian said, placing a hand on his shoulder, the wind ruffling his brown hair, his dark tie, his black coat. “Not everyone can be saved.”

“I wish they could,” Sirius murmured, his voice barely audible. He was still a bit stunned by how welcoming Scarlett’s family had been, by the fact this man was a hundred years old, and by the gnawing anxiety of what lay ahead.

“You’re not a hero, Black. Their deaths aren’t your fault.”

Sirius clenched his fists. Wasn’t it? How had someone broken into the Gaunt house like that? He was one of the few who had unrestricted access—aside from James, Remus, and Peter. It didn’t make any sense…

“It’s time,” Sebastian announced.

Sirius weaved through the crowd, searching for Scarlett, and found her chatting cheerfully with Pandora and Lily. The two of them looked quite amazed by her family’s island. Sirius wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as his thoughts drifted.

Then came the farewells, and once again, they were separated.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Scarlett’s grandfather warned him, a little smirk full of menace playing on his lips.

Sirius simply accepted the threat.

“We’ll all kill you, Black,” her great-great-grandmother added, hugging Leto as she joined the send-off.

“I won’t hurt her,” Sirius replied, playing along, lifting his hands in surrender. “Promise!”

“Good.” Sebastian gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Look after her, yeah?”

“I will,” Sirius nodded, receiving a flurry of handshakes before rejoining James and Remus, who both pulled him into a hug.

“How you holding up?” James asked, adjusting his glasses.

Sirius shrugged, scanning the silvery and red heads for Scarlett.

“I’ve been better.”

Scarlett, Lily and Pandora soon joined them. Scarlett wrapped Sirius in a tight hug, pulling him aside from the others, taking advantage of the queue forming to use the Portkey.

“So… your offer… about us living together…” Scarlett pressed her lips together, tilting her head up to look at him. “Does it still stand?”

Sirius plunged into those ocean eyes, into their warm, inviting depths where a hundred stars shimmered. He wanted to live inside those irises forever.

“Of course it does,” Sirius answered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Scarlett’s ear. The wind stirred, lifting her hair as their gazes held through the hush of night.

“Then I accept.” Scarlett’s voice trembled, not from hesitation, but from a blend of sorrow and guilt.

Sirius swallowed hard, the raw and awkward pain he was trying to keep sealed in his chest threatening to break through the cracks she so easily opened.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but…” His words came low… burning. “As long as we’re together, it’ll be alright. Yeah?” He wasn’t just saying it to her—he needed to hear it too. “I love you, Scarlett. I’ll always love you.”

Scarlett nodded, and Sirius stroked the freckles on her cheek with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I love you too, Sirius. Today and always.”

Under the silent witness of the stars drifting above the Adriatic Sea, Sirius and Scarlett sealed their words with a kiss.

There had been many lies in their twisted relationship.  

Love wasn’t one of them.

And the moment they parted… everything went wrong.

.

.

.

Regulus huffed as he lowered his headphones. The carriage rattled with a creak, and the rain outside blurred the otherwise beautiful view of Hogwarts Castle across the Black Lake.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Reg?” Remus ran a hand over his tired face, then slipped it into the pocket of his blazer. “Fancy a bit of chocolate?”

“I told you I’m fine, Uncle!” he snapped, folding his arms and ignoring Lua’s watchful gaze beside the professor. “I didn’t even faint! It was just… just a vision.”

Remus didn’t seem convinced, because he gently touched Regulus’s cheek to check his temperature.

“What did you see?” he asked, running his hand through the boy’s black hair, a small smile tugging at his lips when he saw he was okay.

Regulus clenched his fists, his eyes drifting to the rain-spattered window for a few seconds. The breath caught in his lungs before he forced it out in one hard exhale.

“The day he… didn’t come back.” He shrugged, faking a smile that only made his discomfort more obvious. “But then the dementor drifted away and… everything went back to normal,” he added when he noticed Remus staying silent.

“Has your uncle Nate talked to you about it?” Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “About Sirius?”

“That I shouldn’t go looking for him, and if I see him, I’m to tell the Headmaster straight away?!” He let out an irritated sigh. “Yeah, he told me.”

Remus simply nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“You can always come to me too, if you see anything strange. Any of you, actually…” He glanced over at Luana and Victoria. “Anything at all… come to me. You know where my office is.”

“Yes, Professor Lupin,” Lua was the only one who responded. Victoria gave a sly smile and turned back to the window.

Regulus put his headphones back on and pulled out his pocket watch, staring at the photo of his parents looking back at him as though it were the saddest day of their lives. He brushed his thumb across Scar’s face, then Red’s, and closed the lid, feeling the tick of the second hand in the palm of his hand.

The carriage came to a swaying stop, and Remus was the first to step out, followed by Regulus. He helped Victoria and Lua disembark.

“…did the creepy old dementor scare you too, Weasley?” Draco Malfoy, a few steps up, was pestering Harry’s friend.

“Is there a problem?” Remus asked calmly.

Malfoy shot the professor a defiant look.

“Oh, no… uh… Professor,” he replied sarcastically, letting out a snicker before heading up the steps with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

Remus inhaled deeply, watching them go. Regulus didn’t linger long, giving his uncle a quick wave before following the stream of students. He, Victoria, and Luana sat down across from Victor, Vin, and Aphelandra Pyke at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

“Is it true your psycho uncle’s coming to Hogwarts?” Vin asked just as the Sorting Hat finished its song.

Regulus flashed a smug smile, tapping his fingers against an empty silver goblet.

“Maybe,” he replied, clapping as a girl was sorted into Slytherin.

“Wouldn’t it be brilliant if he finished what he started?” Vin went on, grooming his eyebrows with his little finger. “The Boy Who Lived would become The Boy Who Died.”

Lua, Victor, and Aphelandra burst out laughing, while Victoria’s face soured. She shot her brother a withering glare.

“Shut up, Vin,” she muttered, resting her elbows on the table. “He’s just a kid…”

“He’s not just a kid, he’s a freak!” Victor scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What sort of person doesn’t die from a Killing Curse?!”

“Why are you defending him?” Regulus asked Victoria, the smile still stretched across his face.

“I’m not.” She rolled her eyes and pulled a small notebook from her skirt pocket, curling inwards into her own introspective world as she began to draw.

“Alright, lads, sweepstakes time. When’s Black gonna get Potter? Autumn, winter or spring?” Luna pulled a magical box from her bag, which had drawings marking each season. “Minimum bet’s ten knuts.”

Vin was the first, throwing in a Galleon on winter. Aphelandra and Victor both placed their bets on spring—so did Regulus.

“If Reg’s going for spring, then I trust him,” Aphelandra said with a wink, flashing a wide grin. Her slightly gapped front teeth gave her a quirky kind of charm.

Victor and Vin exchanged glances before smirking nastily at Regulus.

“Yeah, he’s dead good with bets… did I tell you he guessed who’d get petrified last year?” Victor nudged the others into the conversation, but Regulus didn’t respond.

His thoughts had drifted far away—to a day when he’d been too young to understand right from wrong, but old enough to remember.  

Sirius had been murmuring a tune softly to himself while focusing on the stove: his hair tied at the nape of his neck, his beard dusted with flour, and his apron clumsily knotted around his waist.

Regulus tugged at his trousers, and Sirius glanced down at him over his shoulder.

“Daddy, what’re you doin’?”

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Sirius crouched, scooping him up in one sweeping motion. “Pancakes, of course.”

The world grew bigger as Reg wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck, seeing everything from his height—where he could spot all the utensils across the counter, including the pale batter Sirius had just poured into the frying pan.

“Pankicks…” Regulus echoed, one hand stroking Sirius’s beard, the other clinging to the collar of his T-shirt. “With… um… stwawbewwy?”

“With strawberry…” Sirius confirmed, giving the frying pan a shake to loosen the batter. “Wanna see a bit of magic?”

Reggie nodded enthusiastically, one finger buried in his nose.

“Yesh.”

“Repeat after me: Flipendo.”

“Flip… endo? Flipendo.” Reggie munched on a booger, trying to grasp what the word meant.

“Say it again.” Sirius looked at him, grinning.

“Flipendo!”

Sirius flicked the pan up in one smooth motion, sending the pancake flipping through the air and landing raw-side-down on the griddle. His mouth dropped open in mock surprise before he broke into a smile.

“Sweet Merlin, Reggie, you’re a wizard! You just cast your first spell!” he teased, grabbing Regulus with both arms and stepping away from the stove, lifting him as high as he could. “You’re brilliant, son!”

Regulus burst into giggles as Sirius buried his face in his belly, tickling him mercilessly. And he caught himself laughing like an idiot—just as Dumbledore’s voice began echoing louder and louder, pulling him out of the daydream.

“…and while you are with us, it must be made absolutely clear that no one is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not fooled by tricks or disguises, not even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in their nature to comprehend pleas or excuses. Therefore, I warn each and every one of you not to give these guards any reason to harm you. I appeal to our prefects and our Head Boy and Head Girl to ensure that no student comes into conflict with the dementors.”

Taking advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention was fixed on Dumbledore, Reg fumbled in his cloak pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d found in the attic of Lupin’s house: Sirius holding Scarlett in his arms, kissing her with an expression so solemn it made Regulus smile too—before quickly tucking the photo away again when movement caught the edge of his vision.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about seeking out his uncle—he had no clue what state of mind Sirius might be in after twelve years in Azkaban—but at the same time, there were questions only he could answer. Regulus was tapping his foot incessantly against the floor until Victoria gently touched his thigh, giving him a faint smile as a quiet request to stop.

Regulus muttered an apology, his mind racing at the thought that his godfather might actually be coming to Hogwarts. And if he really was—what harm could there be in speaking to him? Sirius had cared for him with so much love and affection, that much he remembered, even Remus had admitted it. Was he still that same person… or was it all just an act? A mask?

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. Sirius was a murderer. He’d killed over a dozen Muggles. He shouldn’t even be considering looking for him. It was far too dangerous. Remus was right.

He clapped politely when his uncle was introduced by Dumbledore, shaking his head in an effort to rid himself of the thoughts. It wasn’t long before the platters and goblets filled themselves with food and drink—Regulus showed less enthusiasm than his stomach, though he did help himself to a large portion of chicken pie and roast lamb.

When Dumbledore announced it was time to return to their dormitories, Regulus sprang to his feet the moment Gemma signalled for him and Victoria to come over. Reluctantly, he wove through the students and stopped in front of the Head Girl.

“I need you two to stay in the hall and keep an eye out for any stragglers… absolutely no one gets left behind!” she instructed sharply before turning away and beckoning the first-years to follow her.

“Sure,” Regulus muttered without an ounce of enthusiasm.

He gazed up at the ceiling, where heavy grey clouds spit lightning now and again, mimicking the storm that raged outside. The wind stirred the hem of his cloak and pushed Victoria’s white hair onto his shoulder. He hesitated, then caught a few strands between his fingers, drawing Mimi’s gaze.

The hundreds of floating candles above cast an amber glow over the caramel in her eyes. Her long white lashes were barely visible, and her eyebrows hardly contrasted against her pale skin, making her expressions seem far softer than they truly were. Her lips, however—rosy and full, shaped like a heart—were brushed with a soft cherry gloss.

“Reg?” Victoria called gently, drawing his eyes up from the slope of her nose until he met her gaze. The Great Hall had never felt so quiet.

“Mimi?” he answered, feeling his face warm.

“I think… I think everyone’s gone now,” she said, swallowing hard and pressing those perfectly shaped lips into a shy smile.

Regulus's heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest.

“Um, yeah, best we go look for anyone who got lost, then…” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he started walking toward the exit with Victoria beside him.

They’d known each other since before Hogwarts, and yet Regulus had never grown used to the dangerous proximity she led him into. It didn’t just make his neck stiffen—there were the brushes of hands, the knocks of elbows, the shoulders bumping together. Subtle. Instinctive. Normal for two friends who’d known each other for so long.

Still, Regulus could never ignore the shiver that raced through him whenever Victoria’s fingers touched his. And he always glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she felt that same flutter in her stomach every time it happened.

Victoria, however, never let anything slip on her face—though the hand not brushing his was clutching her notebook tight.

There weren’t any stragglers in the corridors. At least, none near the Grand Staircase. Most students seemed to have taken the warning about the dementors seriously. Regulus stayed silent the whole way, watching the last few students enter the Slytherin common room.

“I think that’s everyone,” Gemma assessed, with Achilles standing guard on the opposite side of the entrance. “Tomorrow night we’re meeting to plan patrols, after dinner, in the Astronomy Tower. Be there!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Regulus gave an awkward little salute before heading into the common room and descending the stairs past the mermaid fountain, Victoria’s familiar presence at his side. “Goodnight, Mimi,” he murmured, just before turning off toward the boys’ dorms.

“Reg…” Her voice was no more than a breath, but it was enough to make him turn around at once.

Merlin help him—sometimes he hated himself for how quick he always was to respond to her.

“What?” he asked, one brow arched. Victoria stepped closer, lips forming a soft smile.

“Thank you… for earlier. For… for protecting me. I mean, it was… it was stupid of you to do that, but… really brave too.” She stammered, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, come on, Mimi.” Regulus tousled her hair with a wide grin, his heart skipping a few beats. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?”

She simply rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove, a shy expression on her face.

“Goodnight, Reggie.” She looked back at him one last time, the flames of the green candelabras turning the caramel of her eyes to jade.

Regulus watched her climb the stairs and disappear into the corridor of the girls’ dormitories. He shook his head, trying to wipe the foolish smile off his face as he made his way to his room. He shared it with Victoria’s twin, Victor, along with Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, and Terence Higgs.

“Flint talk to you?” Miles asked, flopping onto his bed. He was as blond as Terence, though his eyes were dark, while Higgs’s were light.

“No,” Regulus replied, unfastening his cloak, his gaze drifting over Terence and Adrian before returning to Miles. “Why?”

“I reckon you’ll need to speak with Snape…” Pucey chimed in, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He was one of Slytherin’s Chasers.

Regulus gave a puzzled smile as he loosened his tie.

“With all the drama surrounding your uncle and… well, I think Flint’s planning to bench you. At least until Black gets caught,” Miles said, pulling a face like he was trying to be sympathetic. He was the team’s Keeper.

“What?” Regulus flared his nostrils, gripping the tie in his fist. “What’s my uncle got to do with me?”

“Er… security reasons… something like that…” Pucey gave him a pat on the shoulder before locking himself in the bathroom.

“It’s not like I’m helping him sneak into Hogwarts!” Regulus growled, yanking open his shirt with more force than necessary.

Victor, Miles, and Terence exchanged glances before looking at him.

“So… it’s not true? You’re not helping Black?” Terence asked, crossing his legs and balancing a packet of Every Flavour Beans between his knees.

“Of course not! Who told you that?” Regulus put his hands on his hips, a deep frown creasing his brow. The blue in his eyes iced over.

“Er… Selwyn…” Terence gave an awkward grin, tossing a bean into the air and catching it in his mouth.

“For Merlin’s balls, I was joking!” Regulus let out a nervous laugh as he grabbed a clean change of clothes. “Selwyn’s a tosser. And besides, Black’s not even here—how the hell could I be helping him?!”

Victor rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hands.

“How do you know he’s not here?” he asked, his white brows tensing and furrowing his forehead.

“Because I read the Prophet! If he were here… we’d know,” Regulus snapped, glancing toward the bathroom door. Why was Pucey taking so long?

“Leave him alone, Terry,” Miles said, chucking a pillow at his friend.

“Alright, alright, I was just… curious,” Terence said, raising his hands in surrender. “But hey… Reggie, at least they’re benching you because your nutter uncle’s on the loose and not because some rich bastard’s daddy bought everyone a Nimbus and stole your spot…”

He didn’t bother hiding the bitterness in his voice. Terence had been Slytherin’s Seeker before Lucius Malfoy bought his son onto the team the year before.

“Malfoy’s a right bloody arse, but those Nimbuses are something else…” Miles said in mock-seriousness, raising his index finger as if delivering a sermon. Terence retaliated by lobbing the pillow back at him.

“Oh, shut up, Miles—Malfoy’s awful. I hope you lot lose every match!” Terence shot back, flipping him the finger.

“I’m talking to Snape tomorrow,” Regulus said finally, before banging on the bathroom door. “Hurry the hell up, Pucey!”

“Oh, you know what that means, Reg… probably having a nice little wank,” Victor said with a wicked grin, prompting exaggerated groans of disgust from the other three.

No response came from the bathroom.

“Speaking of wanks, Aphelandra Pyke was practically drooling over Reg today,” Victor added, his tone thick with implication, which didn’t sit well with Regulus.

“She’s weird, mate,” Miles said, shaking his head. “And if you’re gonna go for someone a year up, you’ve got a whole buffet of options… right, Reg?”

“Yeah,” Regulus replied simply, leaning against the doorframe with his clean clothes hugged to his chest.

“And you’re always hanging around with Rookwood and Teixeira…” Terence said, right before gagging on a vomit-flavoured bean. He clutched his mouth dramatically.

“Ugh, not my sister, mate!” Victor grimaced. “And Luana’s completely off her rocker—no sane bloke would date her…”

“I’ve known Victoria my whole life, it’d be… weird…” Regulus let out a tight breath and shrugged. “And Luana’s… just a friend. They’re all just friends.”

“Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Rookwood to Hogsmeade?” Terence asked, seeming entirely genuine.

Regulus’s heart skipped a few beats, and he dug his nails into the fabric of his clothes. He fought to keep his expression smooth, his emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

Yes, Terry, I’d mind. I’ve liked Victoria since I was eight, so get your beady eyes off her or I’ll claw them out myself…

Regulus took a deep breath, loosened his grip, and shook his head with feigned ease.

“What? No! ’Course not…” he said with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s like… a sister to me.”

“Told you,” Miles said, reclining with his hands behind his head. “If he fancied her, he’d have done something by now.”

“I dunno, they’re always together,” Terence defended himself, tipping the box of sweets into his mouth. “You mind talking to her about me?”

“You can bugger right off with that idea, Higgs—no one here’s getting with my sister!” Victor snapped, shooting him a deadly glare. “Besides, Dad got a proposal from the Averys—Luke wants her hand in marriage.”

Victor’s revelation hit Regulus like a punch to the gut. He didn’t even try to hide the shock from his face—and neither did the other boys. His saliva thickened, forcing a cough as the words lodged in his throat.

“Wait, what?” Terence asked, mouth still half-full.

“Yeah… they’re meant to marry next year, when she comes of age…” Victor said offhandedly. “She wasn’t too keen on the idea, but it’s not like she’s got much of a choice…” He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

The silence that followed was louder than a shout. Regulus could hear his own heartbeat, the crackling of the heater, and the quiet clack when Terence tossed the box of beans into the bin.

“I thought… I thought that kind of thing was over. I mean… you lot aren’t even part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight…” Miles attempted a laugh, awkward and dry.

“Oh, but the Rookwoods are an ancient family,” Victor said, twisting his mouth into a proud smirk. “And we’ve been pure for four generations.”

“But why just your sister… I mean… you and your brothers… none of you were promised off, were you?” Miles asked, now sitting upright on his bed, clearly intrigued.

“Not yet. This was just… an opportunity that came up. It’s pretty common in pure-blood families. Tell them, Reg.” Victor gestured toward him.

Regulus swallowed hard.

“Well, yeah, I mean… since the fall of… er, the Dark Lord… that sort of thing’s mostly been left behind,” he mumbled.

“Didn’t your uncle get locked up too?” Terence asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah… Augustus Rookwood… a Death Eater… like Reg’s uncle,” Victor said with a wicked glint in his eye. “But Father sees it as a political alliance—especially with the dark times creeping back in.”

Miles scoffed like it was the most absurd thing he’d heard.

“Dark times? You-Know-Who’s already been defeated.” He didn’t bother to mask the disdain in his voice.

“Has he?” Victor’s eyes darkened, shadowed with something grim.

The bathroom door flung open with a suddenness that made Regulus jump. Pucey stepped out, shirt slung over one shoulder and a towel over the other, trailing steam behind him.

“All yours, Reggie. Try not to cry in there, yeah?” he joked, ruffling Regulus’s hair.

Regulus shot him a glare, shoving past with a scowl before closing the door with a sharp snap behind him.

He stared at his fogged reflection in the mirror. Victoria’s getting married? To Luke Avery? Just the thought of the two of them together made his palms sweat, a shiver crawling up the back of his neck. He let out a shaky breath and stepped under the shower, his mind racing.

What exactly had Victor meant by all that?

Was Sirius really coming to Hogwarts?

After leaving the bathroom and bidding goodnight to his roommates, Regulus closed the dark green canopy of his bed and pulled out the photo of his mum cuddling the dog, studying it under the soft glow of his Lumos. The white beams danced across her cheeks every time she shut her eyes and the dog licked her face.

He flipped the photo over, his fingers tracing the inscription.

Scarlett and Padfoot, summer of ’78.

He smiled to himself, trying to smother the nervous flutter that always came creeping back whenever his thoughts drifted—almost involuntarily—to Victoria.

He extinguished his wand and forced himself to sleep.

.

.

.

The next morning, the first thing Regulus did after breakfast was make his way to the staff table to speak with Snape, who was glaring at Lupin with an expression even more disgusted than usual.

“Professor, I—”

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Black?” Snape cut him off, his eyes flashing with disdain.

Regulus straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Yes, but—”

“If this is about your position on the Slytherin team, it’s already been given to Lucian Bole, a year above you,” Snape said, reclining in his high-backed chair and sipping his tea with a sniff of contempt.

“But, Professor, I—”

“It’s not up for discussion, Black. It was a decision made in agreement with the Headmaster.” Snape’s voice rose just enough to hint at his morbid enjoyment of the boy’s frustration. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Regulus merely nodded, his face burning with anger. He ignored his uncle’s attempt to call him back, weaving through the students now leaving their tables, still dizzy from what had just happened. Murmurs and whispers followed him as he passed a group of Gryffindor girls mid-conversation, leaving him even more on edge.

“So? What did he say?” Terence swung his bag over his shoulder and jogged to catch up with Regulus, raking a hand through his blond hair.

“Yeah, I’m out.” Regulus didn’t bother hiding the bitterness in his voice. “Said it was a decision made with the Headmaster…”

“Dumbledore?” Terence asked, frowning as they stopped in the antechamber outside the Great Hall. “Why?”

“It’s pretty obvious, Terry.” Regulus gave a smile, but it wasn’t one of joy. “I just don’t get it. Why should I have to pay for something that’s not even my fault?!”

“What’s going on?” Luana slipped into the conversation, tucking her silver chains beneath her cloak as McGonagall swept past them, her gaze sharp and suspicious.

“Snape booted Reggie off the Quidditch team,” Terence explained, clapping a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “Because of his uncle.”

“Oh, of course,” Luana sneered, hugging her books to her chest. “Because obviously, you'd fly up there on your broom and carry him into Hogwarts like a passenger, yeah?” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m not surprised. Snape’s never really liked Reg.”

“Snape’s never really liked anyone,” Terence added, craning his neck to make sure the Potions Master wasn’t lurking nearby—he had a knack for showing up whenever his name was mentioned. “The only one he seems to like is Malfoy… and even that’s a stretch.”

“Well, he is the son of a Death Eater,” Luana said, as if Terence were a halfwit.

“Reg’s the son of two Death Eaters… and the nephew of another,” Terence raised his brows. “Your math’s a bit off, Teixeira.”

Lua sighed and opened her mouth to argue, but deflated almost immediately, letting the air out of her lungs as she tied her wavy black hair into a ponytail.

“I’ve run out of arguments,” she said with a sympathetic smile, pulling Regulus into a hug. “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

“It’s fine,” he replied in a tone that made it clear nothing was fine at all. “Have you seen Mimi?”

“She went out to the gardens with Diggory…” Lua glanced at her nails nonchalantly. “Why don’t you go after her?”

“Why would he go after her?” Terence pulled a face. “She’s probably got her tongue halfway down Diggory’s throat by now.”

Regulus shot Terence a death glare before turning back to Lua.

“Why would I go after her?” he repeated, exhaling sharply through his nose in disdain.

“Pfft! You’re such a loser, Reg,” Luana said, elbowing him lightly.

“Why is he a loser?” Terence looked between them, then his face lit up with a mischievous grin as he grabbed Regulus by both shoulders. “Oh no…”

“What?” Regulus shrugged him off more forcefully than necessary.

“You fancy her!” Terence exclaimed, practically bouncing.

“No!” Regulus snapped, his expression closing off as he stepped away from them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“It’s so obvious—how did I never notice before?!” Terence hurried after him, gleeful. “I won’t tell anyone, mate, but seriously… why haven’t you ever asked her out?”

Regulus had started the school year on the worst possible note. Not only had he been kicked off the Quidditch team, but now Lua and Terry knew his secret, and all he wanted was to crawl into a hole and disappear. His cheeks burned red, with both anger and embarrassment.

“It’s not that simple, Terry!” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

“I was gonna say it isn’t, but now that she’s promised to someone… good luck, Reg.”

“Promised?” Lua wedged herself between the two of them, her elbows resting on their shoulders. “What do you mean, promised?”

He didn’t get the chance to explain—because just then, the bell rang, and they rushed off to the greenhouses.

Later that same day, Regulus was struggling not to fall asleep in Professor Binns’s class. Half the room was already deep into their tenth dream. Victoria, seated beside him, was diligently taking notes with her usual infuriating calm, while Luana was far more focused on crafting paper airplanes in increasingly complex shapes to attack Fred Weasley on the other side of the room.

Regulus tracked the path of one particular plane, which soared across the classroom and nearly took out the Gryffindor’s eye, prompting a stifled giggle from Luana.

“The next one’s gonna blind you!” she threatened with mock menace.

Fred was the textbook Weasley—flaming red hair, a spray of freckles, and a bit shorter than Regulus, with a rather prominent nose.

“You want war, Teixeira? Then you’ll have it!” he hissed, so forcefully he accidentally spat on his twin brother, who was dozing beside him.

With a precise flick of his wand, Fred turned his parchment into a swarm of tiny, lightning-fast paper planes that shot toward Luana with impressive speed. She, in turn, performed a graceful wand flourish, sending her own larger, more destructive planes to intercept his in a silent, spectacular mid-air battle.

Meanwhile, a small, distinctly different plane glided toward Regulus’s desk, landing gently atop his notes. He unfolded it to find handwriting so perfect it might have been etched.

Meet me in the DADA tower after class.  

— R. J. L.

Regulus folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, only to be assaulted moments later by a sudden swarm of planes. He sprang from his seat with a jolt, swatting at the stinging paper bites that hit his neck and hands.

“Argh, Weasley!” he barked, drawing his wand and setting the offending papers alight in one fluid motion.

“What’s the matter? Gonna cry, Black?!” Fred mocked, lips puckered in a taunting pout.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?!” the ghostly professor lifted his eyes from his book, scratching at his long white sideburns.

“She started it!” Fred pointed at Luana, who was now doubled over laughing.

“Me? Why would I ever attack my best friend?!” she feigned offence. “It was Weasley who attacked Black… look, Professor, he’s bleeding!” Luana took Regulus’s hand and held up the palm, where thin, red cuts shimmered against his skin.

“Oh, Mister Weasley… Mister Black… this sort of behaviour will get you nowhere! You know, as my father always used to say…” He trailed off, mouth agape, eyes closing as he promptly fell asleep mid-sentence.

Fred gave Regulus a smug, viperish grin, clearly pleased with himself. Reg hadn’t even noticed the stinging cuts until Lua pointed them out, the burn flaring up as he muttered healing spells and sealed them with a wave of his wand. Then he fixed Fred with a look of pure loathing.

“Blimey, you really do look like your uncle…” Fred whispered, eyes wide in mock fear. “Go on then, raise your wand—I know you want to. Must be just as barmy as he is…”

“Shut your mouth,” Regulus growled.

“Then again… not much to brag about with your family tree, is there?” Fred added, twirling his quill lazily. “Son and nephew of murderers…”

The bell rang, snapping the class awake in a jolt. But the smirk never left Fred’s face, and that—more than anything—made Regulus want to hex him through the floor.

Regulus, however, prided himself on his self-control. So he merely clicked his tongue and adopted a nonchalant expression as he shoved his things into his bag and strode out of the classroom. He had more important things to deal with.

“Don’t mind him, Reggie—he’s just jealous ’cause he’s a broke little tosser!” Victoria raised her voice, shooting Fred a glare so sharp it could cut.

“Yeah, look at his patched-up robes…” Luana added, flicking her ponytail as she passed by the twins.

“Piss off!” the twins replied in perfect unison, clearly uninterested in starting an argument.

“Where are you going?” Victoria asked as she noticed Regulus veering off from the path to the Great Hall.

“I… I’m going to speak with my uncle.” He pressed his lips together, palms sweating when he saw the faint flicker of disappointment on her face. “So… I’ll see you in the common room?”

“Alright.” Regulus just nodded and walked away as fast as he could, trying to keep his breathing steady. Victoria had always been his best friend—they told each other everything. So why had she hidden the engagement from him?

What’s wrong with that girl?

His questions dissolved as soon as he spotted Remus standing by the staircase leading to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. There was a faint smile on his face, and his hair was swept back. The flickering candlelight painted his grey blazer in shades of orange.

“How was your first day, Reggie?” Remus asked, leaning his elbows on the banister, his brown eyes catching sparks of gold.

Regulus swallowed all the disappointment that weighed down the day before forcing a smile and pretending excitement about the topic.

“It was… great. I… studied… a lot,” he said, flatly.

Concern crept into Remus’s features.

“I heard… er, your talk with Severus… Listen, I tried speaking with Dumbledore—tried to convince him to let you play—but… he thought it was too risky having you out of the castle and…”

“You’re afraid I’ll help my uncle?!” Regulus snapped, unable to hide the sharp edge in his voice.

“No! Of course not…” Remus looked genuinely caught off guard. “We just don’t know what he wants, and we thought it’d be safer if…”

“We? Was that decision yours too?!”

“Well, I… I just want to protect you, Reggie.” Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, as though willing the words to stick. “Sirius loved you like mad and… I don’t know, what if he tries to kidnap you and—”

“Why would he do that?!”

“Because he loved you. So much.”

Regulus let out a bitter laugh that rattled his chest. His grey eyes hardened like iron.

“Not like that matters…” he muttered, gaze dropping to his shoes.

Remus took a deep breath, keeping his hand on Regulus’s shoulder. He pulled him gently into the shadowed corner of the stairwell, beside a clock that had never once told the right time.

“That look you just made… it was the same one your mum used to make when she was really upset but didn’t want anyone to notice,” Remus said with a soft smile, wrapping his arms around Regulus and planting a kiss on his hair. “I promise—it’ll only be until he’s caught, alright?”

Regulus nodded. What choice did he have?

“Now… I’m going to show you a place your mum once showed us…” Remus glanced both ways and pulled his wand from his coat, giving it a smooth twist.

The old clock gave a loud click, and the hidden door groaned open. Regulus frowned, looking up at his uncle, who gave him a mischievous smile and beckoned him inside. With a quiet Lumos, they descended the damp, musty stairs, eventually reaching a gate at the bottom.

Remus heaved it open with a resounding clang, and the room beyond flickered to life—dozens of almost burnt-out candles ignited, casting a warm glow over a space filled with odd instruments and wooden partitions dividing the room into sections. He walked slowly, running his fingers along the edge of a switched-off keyboard, following its cable until it vanished into a far shadowed corner.

“This was… her room, sort of,” Remus said as he walked to a strange little switch tucked into the corner of the hall and flicked it up.

A grid of incandescent lights buzzed to life overhead. Some flickered or didn’t turn on at all, but it was enough to make Regulus blink several times as his eyes adjusted. He took in the battered drum kit, the guitar and pedal board, a bass propped up on a bench. There was even an old sofa with a half-played wizard chess board on the cushion, missing a few pieces.

“What do you mean her room? And how is there even power down here?” Regulus asked, stopping next to the drum kit, spotting a polaroid faced-down.

“It was a surprise we made for her… when… when she lost her family,” Remus said, clearing his throat. The yellowish lights deepened the lines of weariness in his face. “We all took music lessons together, and this became our little retreat. I was on bass, James played guitar, Sirius was on drums… and Scar played the keys.” He chuckled, but it was a sad, distant sound. “I used to sing, though we all took turns… James was dreadful, Sirius could hold his own as backing vocals, but your mum—she could really sing.”

He stopped beside the mic stand, looking at it sideways, as if remembering something only he could see.

Regulus was too stunned to respond. He picked up the polaroid and turned it over.

James was sticking out his tongue with his arm around Remus. On the other side, Sirius was fast asleep on Scarlett’s shoulder, while she, slightly apart from the rest, was dozing against the window of the car.

Without meaning to, Regulus found himself smiling. Just a little.

And then he turned the photo around to show his uncle.

“I remember that day,” Remus said, his voice low. His jaw tensed as he looked up at the lights on the ceiling, as though trying to contain the roiling storm inside. “We’d gone to the water park.”

“I can’t believe this place was here the whole time and you never told me!” Regulus said, half-complaining, though the smile lingered on his face. He handed the photo back and ran his finger over the dusty cymbal before moving deeper into the space, pushing open a half-ajar door.

“That was their room,” Remus said from behind, his voice softer now—like the words themselves might collapse if spoken too loudly. He didn’t follow.

“Can I…?” Regulus glanced at him out the corner of his eye, curiosity fizzing at his fingertips.

“Of course you can…” Remus leaned on the arm of the sofa, staying back.

The room was enormous. A massive bed with faded, mould-speckled green velvet sheets sat at the centre, a sofa placed at its foot, a wooden wardrobe in the corner, an old heater against the far wall, and a dozen books scattered near a sideboard. The stone wall behind it was plastered with photos and posters.

Regulus reached out, touching a The Doors poster where the four members were split across separate frames, then moved to one of Pink Floyd, before stopping at an open tape player. His fingers brushed across the cracked, dusty wood as his eyes wandered to the polaroids stuck all across the wall.

Most were of Scarlett and Sirius together, though some included the whole group: dressed as Star Wars characters for Halloween; what looked like someone’s birthday; a Christmas photo; Sirius laughing with James on his shoulders; Remus and Lily sharing a joint; Peter and Scarlett in sunglasses, holding drinks in some dark, unknown bar.

One photo stood out—Sirius proposing to Scarlett again. But this one didn’t move. Regulus brushed the dust from it with his knuckles, and it peeled away, pulling several others with it, revealing the stone wall beneath.

There was something etched into the rock, rough and primitive, carved around a crooked heart. Regulus could make it out:

SCARIUS  

I’M THE STAR, YOU’RE THE COLOUR  

STAY WITH ME FOREVER?

Beneath that, written in a neater, unmistakably different script—his mother’s:

I WILL.  

TODAY & ALWAYS.

His fingers trembled as he traced her words in the stone. He closed his eyes, blinking away the sting as the weight of the room—of everything it held—pressed into his chest. He tried to picture her there, laughing, playing, singing. Living.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out Scarlett’s watch. Opening it, he stared at the tiny photo inside—Sirius pulling a face and sticking his tongue out.

Regulus looked up at the ceiling and didn’t fight the tears that stung his eyes. He placed the watch gently on the sideboard, left open, and stepped backward out of the room—out of that little sliver of infinity that had once belonged to his mother. The memories wrapped around him like mist, heavy and inescapable.

Today and always.  

Some things, perhaps, could be eternal.  

Regulus wished Scarlett was one of them.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXVI

"Scarlett..." The voice, distorted by the fire and muffled by the smoke, called out to her.

She turned her face towards the sound, rising amidst the flames, running and running but never reaching it, the silhouette before the embers stretching a hand towards her.

"Orfy..." Scarlett whispered, a trace of breath escaping her lips. "Orfy... Orfy... ORFY!"

Her vision gradually blurred and the sound of the flames vanished all of a sudden. As her retinas struggled to adjust to the darkness of the room, all she could see were the starry eyes. Dilated, terrified pupils, dishevelled black hair, and a pair of dark circles sinking into pale skin.

"Hey..." Sirius’s expression wavered between shock and concern, his warm hands cradling Scarlett’s cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"I... I forgot..." she murmured, still half-asleep. "The potion."

Sirius nodded slowly, pulling her against his chest, intoxicating her with his sweet scent, letting the bitter feeling that crawled through her body from the nightmare be driven away by his presence. Her breathing was still uneven and fast, triggering a crying fit.

"It’s alright, you’re safe," he said, his voice rough. "I’m here."

"I know," Scarlett gasped, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I know."

Her blurred gaze inevitably wandered to the window. Even covered by the blinds, Scarlett knew exactly what lay on the other side. She shuddered, despite the sweat clinging to her from the nightmare. Sirius gently untangled her hair from the nape of her neck, blowing softly as he stroked her scalp.

Scarlett let her tears soak into Sirius’s T-shirt as she closed her eyes, focusing on the strong beat of his heart, losing herself in the man who was all she had left.

Sirius held her the way he always did, with a tenderness she had never imagined he could possess. After a while, once her breathing began to steady and her sobs subsided, Scarlett gazed at him through the darkness of the room, feeling the gentle caress of his foot brushing against hers, the soothing stroke of his fingers through her hair.

"Can we get out of here for a bit?" she asked, her voice cracking. "I can’t... it’s hard staying here knowing that... my house is just there and..."

The words died in her throat. Scarlett swallowed hard, sniffling as Sirius pressed a tender kiss to the tip of her nose before slipping out of bed, rummaging through his trunk for some clothes.

"Let’s get out of here, then," he said, flashing the dimpled smile that always stirred the butterflies in her stomach. "I’ve got a surprise for you."

"Surprise?" Scarlett hugged her knees, eyeing the T-shirt and shorts he’d tossed onto the bed.

"Uh-huh," Sirius grunted. There was a glint in his eyes, a mixture of mischief and excitement that Scarlett couldn’t quite decipher, narrowing her eyes slightly as her boyfriend switched on the bedside lamp and started getting undressed.

She had to admit, Sirius’s tattoos only made his innate charm even harder to resist, drawing her gaze with ease. She was far too mesmerised by the way his muscles flexed when he pulled on his T-shirt, catching her watching with a lopsided grin.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he asked, a mischievous look on his face as he threw on his leather jacket.

"You’re gorgeous," Scarlett murmured, resting her chin on her knees.

Sirius’s grin deepened and he shook his head, looking away, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Even all scruffy and knackered-looking?" he teased, biting his bottom lip, clearly relishing her reaction.

"Sirius... you’re fit even starkers," Scarlett shot back, making him clutch his chest and gasp dramatically in mock offence.

" Especially starkers, you mean..." he corrected, snatching the motorbike keys off the table. "Come on then, crybaby, get dressed..."

"I’m not a crybaby!" Scarlett grumbled, rubbing her nose as she got up with a long yawn. "Are you just going to stand there gawping?!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow before letting out a soft laugh.

"’Course not, wouldn’t dream of watching you change, I’m a proper gentleman!" he said in an exaggerated tone, turning his back to her — though not without sneaking a glance over his shoulder.

"I know you’re peeking..." Scar said as she pulled off her clothes, making Sirius quickly turn his face back around.

"Nothing I haven’t seen before..." he said, still grinning like an idiot.

"You haven’t... not this past week," Scarlett added, wrapping her arms around herself. "You can look now."

"That’s true. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the tattoo yet," Sirius said, sliding his arms round her waist and kissing her forehead. "Maybe tonight..."

Scarlett gave him a shy little smile at the suggestion, glancing down at the shoes Euphemia had lent her. She still hadn’t been out to buy new clothes.

They crept downstairs, careful not to wake anyone. Sirius grabbed a few buns and a bottle of milk from the fridge, handing it to Scarlett.

"Feeling peckish?" he asked, taking a big bite out of a blueberry muffin, getting jam smeared all over his face.

Scarlett nodded, wiping Sirius’s face with her thumb before licking it clean. She pulled a face at the bittersweet taste of the jam, downing the rest of the milk in greedy gulps. Sirius stayed leaning against the counter, watching her with that daft smile that refused to leave his face.

"What?" Scarlett asked, setting the bottle down on the sink.

"I remember the first time you did that... I was... bloody terrified. And turned on," he said, brushing the muffin crumbs off his jacket.

"Oh, Sirius..." Scarlett groaned, running a hand over her face in embarrassment.

"It’s not every day a girl knocks back a bottle of milk like that in front of me... especially when that girl’s you," he said, pushing off the counter.

"So, what’s the surprise?" Scar asked, feeling herself smiling back at him, infected by his silly grin.

"I can’t tell you. That’s not how surprises work, is it?" He frowned, taking her hand and pulling her towards the door.

Scarlett hesitated as Sirius turned the handle, her heart still heavy, her gaze dropping straight to the floor. Things were a bit less tense, but the melancholy still clung to her. The urge to cry rose again, and she had to summon every ounce of strength she had to hold it back as Sirius led her through the Potters’ garden to where Nancy was parked.

She clutched her T-shirt tightly, as if that could somehow lend her some sort of courage, the wisterias dancing with the song of the wind at her feet. The main street of Godric’s Hollow was deserted, the silence of the early hours wrapping around them. The night was bright, even with the waxing moon.

Sirius unzipped his leather jacket and helped her into it.

"You’ll freeze," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck before climbing onto the motorbike and folding up the kickstand.

"A ride?" Scarlett rubbed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that stubbornly kept slipping out. "That’s the surprise?"

He gave her a mysterious smile, tapping the pillion seat twice. Scarlett zipped up the jacket and climbed onto the bike, flinching slightly as the cold wind cut through the night.

"You’ll see," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Hold on to me."

Scarlett wrapped her arms around him from behind, looking for a place to rest her feet.

"Watch the exhaust..." he warned, nudging her ankle onto the footpeg with his heel. "Ready?"

Scarlett took a deep breath, grabbing a fistful of Sirius’s shirt.

"Ready," she whispered, barely audible.

Sirius smiled, tied back his hair, and started the engine, the roar swallowing the hush of the night. He backed them up with his feet before easing onto the road. Scarlett caught, out of the corner of her eye, the dark blur of her house flashing past as Sirius picked up speed, the streetlights turning into streaks of yellow against the night.

Scarlett felt her stomach flip when Sirius pulled a lever and lifted the front of the motorbike, gasping in shock as they began to climb rapidly, the lights around them falling away beneath their feet. Her heart raced, the wind howling in her ears, whipping her hair back.

Godric’s Hollow became a scattering of tiny lights, shrinking into the distance until it disappeared entirely into the vastness of the night, giving way to enormous green fields washed silver by the moon. Scarlett’s gaze lifted, the stars inching closer.

The night was almost cloudless, so Sirius kept climbing until they reached the level of the wisps above, pulling the lever again to steady the bike, slowing down until they were simply floating.

"Scar... come to the front," Sirius said, his voice firm against the rush of the wind.

Scarlett frowned, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Climb over me and sit in front. I’ll hold you."

Scarlett let out an incredulous laugh.

"What? Are you mental?" she spluttered, feeling a shiver run through her just at the thought.

"I’m not going to let you fall," Sirius said, lifting his hands, waiting for her to take them. "Trust me," he added, with a small, steady smile.

The idea of shifting seats this high up was bloody terrifying, even with the rock-solid trust Sirius inspired. Her hands were slick with sweat, her body prickled all over, and the wind felt as though it might tear her away. Scarlett drew a deep breath for courage, lacing her fingers through his and bracing her other hand on his shoulder.

She rose carefully, stepping onto the leather seat and trembling as the night breeze kissed her cheeks. Sirius held her tight, filling her with a strange, solid sense of safety. With slow, careful movements, Scarlett swung one leg over his shoulder, then the other, ignoring every primal warning screaming at her.

[Music: Rainbow — Rainbow Eyes]

Her eyes met the falling stars reflected in his as she lowered herself slowly, clutching his muscular shoulders, the air growing thinner around her.

The moment she sat, facing him, Scarlett wrapped her arms tightly around him, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Sirius smiled, running a hand through her hair.

She's been gone since yesterday

Oh I didn't care

Never cared for yesterdays

Fancies in the air

"See? Told you I wouldn’t let you fall," he said, tucking a rebellious lock behind her ear and gently lifting her chin with his finger, making her look at him. "Look there..." he said, pointing at the sky while keeping a firm hold on her waist. "That’s the Ursae Majoris."

Scarlett watched Sirius’s fingers trace the outline of the constellation, the dimples in his cheeks deepening with his perfect, toothy smile. The moonlight, as always, was generous to him, highlighting his striking aristocratic features, turning the silver of his eyes into platinum, and brushing his hair with white.

"And that one..." he pointed behind Scarlett, his smile fading, though there was pride in his voice. "That’s the Canis Major. Can you see it?"

"It’s behind me," Scarlett said, lifting her head and arching her back as much as she could.

"Lie back," Sirius suggested, squeezing her hips gently. Scarlett looked at him in astonishment, her knees touching his.

"Sirius... I’m not sure that’s wise..."

"It’s alright to be scared," he said, stroking her cheek lightly. "Close your eyes."

No sighs or mysteries

She lay golden in the sun

No broken harmonies

But I've lost my way

She had rainbow eyes

Scarlett wanted to protest, her lower lip trembling, fear spreading through her body like frantic tentacles. She took a deep breath, slowly closing her eyes, surrendering entirely to Sirius’s idea. He placed one hand at her waist and the other between her shoulder blades. Despite the uncertainty, there was a steadiness about him that made all Scarlett’s doubts evaporate.

"Let your body go," he instructed.

Rainbow eyes

Rainbow eyes

It took everything she had to obey, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as possible, her stomach lurching with vertigo. Why was she so afraid of dying? Wasn’t it exactly what she had longed for after her family was gone?

Just as Sirius had carried her from the fire, he held her now as she leaned slowly backwards, almost touching the motorbike’s panel, her head dropping back, arms dangling loose, her fingertips slicing through the rushing wind. Her hair billowed over her shoulders and back, lifting as though it were being pulled upwards by the moonlight.

"Open your eyes," Sirius whispered, so softly that his words were almost snatched away by the breeze.

Love should be a simple blend

A whispering on the shore

No clever words you can't defend

They lead to never more

Scarlett opened them, finding the constellation of the Canis Major floating above them, the star Sirius burning bright, outshining all the others around it.

Sirius was watching too, his irises shadowed with a melancholy so deep it made tears shimmer in them, falling as though they were forged from the same fire as the stars.

It was beautiful — and a little frightening — to gaze at the tiny burning points so closely, as if nothing happening down below could touch them. They were simply helpless witnesses to the storms of life, to the relentlessness of death, as ancient as time itself.

Scarlett’s dry eyes filled with tears, carried away by the wind. She had never been superstitious, never believed in gods or prophecies, but in that moment, under the watchful gaze of the brightest star in the night sky, she felt closer to her family than she had in a long time. As if they weren’t truly gone.

No sighs or mysteries

She lay golden in the sun

No broken harmonies

But I've lost my way

She had rainbow eyes

"Have you ever thought that... they were here before us and they'll stay here long after everything's turned to ashes?" Scarlett murmured.

"Even stars die, Scar," Sirius said, looking at her with those eyes forged from stardust.

Rainbow eyes

Rainbow eyes

Scarlett gave a sad smile. Not even the stars were immune to death. And yet, she felt lucky. Among supernovas, fusions, and galaxies, the brightest star in the sky had found her and given her its heart so freely. Of course, she had been burned many times — after all, no matter how beautiful they are, stars are essentially blazing balls of fire. It’s hard not to orbit them, because the same heat that scorches, also warms; it boils and it blazes.

And once caught in the orbit, it’s almost impossible to break free. Gravity had bound them, forcing them to move around one another until they stabilised. By then, it was too late. Scarlett knew, with absolute certainty, that she would love Sirius until all that was left of them were ashes and memories, until the stars themselves burned out and only the cold void remained. And if there was a life after this one, she would love him there too.

Sirius looked at Scarlett, at the hundreds of constellations reflected in her ocean-blue eyes.

"I know that... nothing I do... will ever take away the pain you feel... but I..." He opened and closed his mouth, tracing Scarlett’s jaw with his thumb. "...I’ll always hold you, no matter what..."

Scarlett gasped, closing her eyes, letting the sense of freedom stirred by the cold wind and the security sparked by Sirius’s hands give her enough courage to try climbing out of the dark, jagged cliff she had been stranded on for so long — the brutal rollercoaster of grief, the longing anchored deep in her chest.

Sirius wasn’t lying. Even when Scarlett had gone, he had held on to her. And he would again, time after time...

Scarlett and Sirius had been doomed to each other for a very long time.

Summer nights are colder now

They've taken down the fair

And all the lights have died somehow

Or were they ever there

"Hold on to me — your surprise is coming now," Sirius said, pulling her against his chest, and Scarlett clung to him. She didn’t have time to react, because he moved the bike’s lever and they began to descend at high speed.

All Scarlett could see, wrapped around her boyfriend facing him, was the moon surrounded by stars, until the buildings rose up in front of them, the city lights reflected in the dark windows.

The buildings gave way to houses, most of them built to the same pattern — single-storey, with sprawling gardens.

Sirius pulled over and helped her down. Scarlett wasn’t quite sure what was happening, her gaze sweeping over the symmetrical hedges of the house in front of them and the steps leading up to the door. Sirius squeezed her hand and, still in a daze, she let him guide her towards a neatly kept garden full of red poppies.

The same flowers from the garden of her house in Godric’s Hollow.

No sighs or mysteries

She lay golden in the sun

No broken harmonies

But I've lost my way

When Sirius unlocked the door with the key attached to the motorbike keyring, Scarlett grew even more confused. She stepped inside, stunned, finding herself in an empty hallway.

"I wanted to bring you here once it was fully furnished, but..." Sirius began, shrugging casually, though the gleam of excitement in his eyes was impossible to miss. "It’s our house."

She had rainbow eyes

Scarlett let out an incredulous laugh as she walked further in, her eyes falling on the hallway that led straight to the kitchen.

"Our house?" she asked, her voice breaking, on the verge of tears again.

Sirius nodded, closing the door behind her.

"Yeah. After everything that happened... we needed a fresh start. Somewhere just for us." He pulled her along with him.

"I... I thought... you were buying a house for yourself and not... I mean, I didn’t... didn’t imagine..." Scarlett stammered, completely overwhelmed and lost for words. The walls were white, unadorned; the floor bare; the fireplace cold and dark.

Sirius smiled, spinning her in his arms until they stepped into the living room, where a huge grand piano gleamed under the lights he switched on. Scarlett’s eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs.

It was a Steinway & Sons, black with a glossy wood finish, and luxurious touches of red and gold.

She lifted the keyboard lid, her gaze lingering over the ivory keys.

"You... you... did all this for us?!" she said, lifting her eyes to Sirius, not daring to press the keys. Her voice trembled.

"Yeah," Sirius replied, coming closer and resting his hand on the piano lid. "For us. For a future together... and everything we’ve still got ahead of us."

Sirius wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her black hair. Scarlett stayed rigid at the contact, her hands refusing to touch the keys, her breathing ragged.

"Do you still remember how to play?" Sirius teased gently, though Scarlett didn’t even attempt a smile. It was as if the piano was an echo of her past — part of the ashes she was desperately trying to dissolve. For a moment, Sirius regretted buying it. "Why don’t you play a little?"

"I don’t... I... I’m not sure if..."

"We can try," Sirius said, dropping a soft kiss into her hair before settling himself on the bench and motioning for her to sit beside him.

Scarlett nodded and positioned herself at his side, her hands trembling above the keys.

She inhaled through her mouth, exhaling sharply, forcing her tendons to press the ivory hard enough for the hammers to strike the strings.

But the familiar feeling of lightness, the lift she used to feel every time she sat at the instrument, wasn’t there. Nor was the urge to transform her pain into music.

She felt heavy, weighed down as if made of lead, even as she tried to will herself into the right state of mind... it was too difficult, too far away.

"I can’t, I can’t, I can’t..." she whispered to herself, hyperventilating. "I can’t..."

"It’s alright," Sirius said, pulling her into a sudden, fierce hug that made her forget how to breathe for a second. "It’s alright, I’m here. You’ll manage."

"I don’t know if..."

Sirius sniffed, bringing Scarlett’s hands back to the keys with him, his own resting atop hers as he started to play the introduction of a tune she recognised but didn’t care enough to name.

She tried to follow him, but her fingers felt like they’d turned to stone.

She turned her face towards Sirius.

In profile, he looked like one of those gods the Muggles used to carve into statues — the epitome of a pure-blood wizard’s beauty, noble and symmetrical features, lips perfectly shaped, and those eyes...

Scarlett lost herself for a few seconds in that sea of silver.

"Come on, love, you used to play this with your eyes closed," he said, smiling — and the whole world around her seemed to tremble, the edges of his face blurring.

Scarlett looked down at Sirius’s long fingers, pressing the keys with hesitation, as though he wasn’t quite sure of the notes either. She wasn’t sure anymore, either.

The scar on his right forearm caught the light from the chandelier, standing out starkly.

Scarlett instinctively pulled down the sleeve of her leather jacket, staring at the continuation of the burn on her own arm.

"I can’t, Sirius..." she whimpered, dragging her trembling fingers across her face. "I’m sorry..."

"No, hey... it’s alright," Sirius said, making her look at him by holding her cheeks. "Why don’t I show you the rest of our house?"

Our house.

Scarlett blinked a few times, stunned. Sirius tugged her along through the living room — large enough to fit the grand piano and still leave plenty of space — and led her into the hallway where the bedrooms were.

"There are four bedrooms, but we can always use a spell to expand the space if we need more rooms... I mean, what if besides Sirius Junior and Ronnie James Dio, there’s a mini-Scarlett on the way?!" He burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he’d just said, but it was enough to make Scarlett smile too, even through her tears.

"But... there are four bedrooms," Scar said, running her hand over the white door of one, opening it and watching the corridor light slice into the dark, empty room.

"I know... it’s just that..." Sirius took a deep breath, leaning against the wall beside her, looking at her with uncertainty. "I... I was thinking about... asking Regulus to live with us. If... if that’s not a problem for you, of course."

Scarlett absorbed those words in silence.

The hurt from what Red had done to her hadn’t faded after everything that had happened; it had only become another thorn twisting itself around her heart.

For a few seconds, it felt like she was suffocating, her hand tightening around the doorknob.

"It’s fine..." Scarlett lied, the relief she had been feeling peeling away under the memory of the argument with Regulus... when he had attacked her and wiped her memory.

"This will probably be our bedroom..." Sirius said, switching on the light and beckoning her to follow.

Scarlett stepped cautiously into the room, crossing her arms as she trailed behind him into the bathroom, where an enormous bathtub sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the grounds.

"Tada!" he said, pointing at the tub as if unveiling some grand discovery.

"Was this your surprise?" Scar asked, her lips curving into a small smile at the enthusiastic way Sirius nodded.

"Exactly! The surprise was the bathtub all along... maybe now you’ll actually have a bath every day..."

"But I do have a bath every day!" she protested, pretending to be offended.

"Not after we shag!" Sirius said, narrowing his eyes playfully as he brushed past her back into the bedroom.

"That’s because sometimes we shag after I’ve already had a bath!" she retorted, chasing after him down the corridor towards the kitchen. "You wear me out!"

Sirius flashed a wicked grin, grabbing her by the waist.

"Can’t blame you... who could resist this?" he said, gesturing at himself before spinning Scarlett round in his arms.

Scarlett loved Sirius — especially when he was full of himself. It was like one of the fuels that kept him shining, even if it was sometimes utterly infuriating.

There was no denying it: Sirius was the sun, and Scarlett only had eyes for him.

"Fully fitted kitchen, with an oven for you to make your cakes and all your little Muggle things..." Sirius said, propping his elbows on the counter. "And an island in the middle for when we get tired of shagging in bed," he added, drumming his fingers against the pale marble.

"Sirius!" Scarlett scolded him, her voice a few tones higher than usual, her face burning red.

"What would you rather I say? Carnal acts? Lovemaking?" He scratched at his now rather impressive beard. "Sex?"

"Shut up," Scar said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand as if trying to physically bat the subject away.

"Fellatio?" he continued, circling the island towards her.

"Fellatio doesn’t cover everything, you idiot," Scarlett huffed, dodging Sirius as he tried to grab her.

"No? Then what exactly is fellatio?" The mischief wasn’t just dancing on his lips — it flooded his eyes and deepened the dimples in his cheeks.

"No! Don't even start!" Scarlett pointed a stern finger at him. "I’m serious!"

Sirius straightened up, raising his hands in mock innocence, though the wickedness only grew in his expression.

"What? I didn’t do anything!" he said, as if the very idea was outrageous.

Scarlett let a playful grin light up her face as she backed out into the living room.

"You’ll never catch me!" she challenged, laughing as she darted down the hallway, hearing Sirius’s heavy, fast footsteps thudding behind her.

Scarlett glanced both ways at the end of the corridor before diving into the last room.

It was as spacious as the master bedroom, and the windows gave a view of something very dark in their garden. She didn’t have the chance to find out what it was, though, because Sirius came into the room, placing his hands on his hips and advancing towards her, his breathing heavy.

"Seriously? Is that all you've got?" he teased, letting his hair loose only to tie it back up again.

Scar flexed her knees slightly, giving him a look of pure condescension. Then, before he could react, she bolted again, ducking as Sirius lunged for her, slipping past him and racing back down the corridor towards the kitchen, a little out of breath.

"Never underestimate a Slytherin, Mister Black!" she sang, striding around the kitchen island as she stripped off her leather jacket, waiting for Sirius.

But he didn’t appear.

Carefully, she stretched her head out of the kitchen, her gaze sweeping the living room.

No sign of Sirius.

She stepped back — and bumped straight into something, letting out a startled squeak that turned into a laugh.

Sirius caught her by the waist, lifting her clean off the floor. Scarlett let out a nervous laugh as he hoisted her over his shoulder. She kicked her legs on purpose, trying to make him put her down, but Sirius clearly had other plans — he held her easily with one arm as he carried her to the piano, where he gently laid her down on the lid.

Scarlett’s laughter began to fade, though her eyes remained fixed on him, her chest aching, her lungs burning. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy in days — it was as if the sun had finally risen, blessing her with its warmth.

Something bright and overwhelming unfurled inside her, wrapping itself around the pain, quickening her heartbeat, leaving her utterly stunned.

She had felt so suffocated for so long that it was like remembering how to breathe again, how to see the world without everything being painted in grey, realising that there was still beauty left — even if her family were no longer there.

Sirius leaned over her, his face mere inches from hers, his eyes molten with amusement and desire, the stray locks of his hair brushing against her cheeks.

"Got you," he murmured into the tiny space between them, before dissolving it completely with a kiss.

Scarlett closed her eyes, sinking into his lips like someone falling into the fleeting happiness of a perfect moment, praying it would never end, that the warmth would never fade, that the stars would never go out.

She had missed this.

The thirst that made her tangle her tongue with his, the dazed, intoxicated state he provoked where nothing in the world mattered except for them, the fire that burned in her chest and grew into an inferno at his touch.

And Scarlett let herself burn, biting his lower lip in the way she knew drove him mad, tugging hard at his black hair and breaking the kiss, hearing the tortured gasps that only heightened her own desire.

His tattooed hands slid down her torso, tugging her T-shirt upwards. Scarlett closed her eyes and lifted her arms, feeling the fabric vanish and leaving nothing but Sirius’s ragged breathing at her collarbone, where he began to mark her skin with a trail of bruising kisses of varying intensity, his hands busy kneading and pinching her breasts.

Scarlett rolled her eyes back, clutching at his hair as if afraid his wicked mouth might abandon her skin.

But Sirius would never tire of Scarlett — so his fingers gave her hardened nipples one last sharp twist before he tried to push her breasts together, nipping at them both at once.

It was enough to make Scar shudder, her lips almost begging him to hurry.

But she needed to be patient, so she bit down a desperate moan as the fire in her veins prickled across her skin the instant one of Sirius’s hands slipped inside the shorts she was wearing, rubbing her over her knickers.

Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the wicked fingers tracing random patterns over the fabric, her legs automatically relaxing and falling open as far as they could, giving him room to settle his hips between them.

Sirius soon trailed his kisses back up, his beard rasping deliciously against her neck until he recaptured her lips in a wet, urgent kiss.

Scarlett sat up and reached for his belt with clumsy urgency, her fingers fumbling at the buckle. His trousers fell to the floor with a thud, and he wasted no time tugging Scarlett’s shorts away, leaving her completely naked.

She pulled at Sirius’s T-shirt and he simply lifted his arms for her to peel it off.

He climbed onto the piano lid, his shadow swallowing her up the moment their mouths found each other again, kissing her like it was as essential as the air filling his lungs.

Scarlett was burning, so hot that Sirius pinned her back against the lid as he positioned himself between her legs.

His cock, already hard, throbbed as the familiar heat of her brushed against the head.

Scarlett took a deep breath into the kiss and Sirius pulled her legs up, resting her ankles over his shoulders in a rather unconventional position.

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly, her hips lifting as Sirius pushed inside her slowly, making her thighs tremble with the sweet burn his thick length brought, stretching and filling her as if it were the very first time, the snug grip of her wet walls clutching at him.

Sirius locked eyes with her as he sank all the way in.

The position let him reach so deep that Scarlett felt the tip of him brushing against her cervix in a slight, aching pressure.

He didn’t move — he was too overwhelmed by the feeling of being utterly one with her.

Sirius twisted a lock of Scarlett’s hair around his finger, their noses brushing, their mouths barely apart as their breath mingled, languid and shaky.

Scarlett licked at his lips, trying to coax him to move, but Sirius was so lost in her he barely reacted, his thumb gently stroking her ankle, his nose nuzzling along her cheeks.

"I love you," he murmured against her mouth, his voice a raw scrape of feeling. "I love you so much."

Sirius blinked hard, as if trying to focus better on Scarlett’s face, on the stunned lines softening her expression.

"I love you too," she whispered, tightening her arms around him. "So much."

Sirius moved with long, deliberate thrusts, pulling out and pushing back in so slowly that Scarlett tried to lower her legs, desperate to force him to speed up.

But she only realised it wasn’t just about sex when Sirius drove into her a few more times without breaking eye contact, drawing her into those twin pools of bright silver, into the blown pupils, into the reflection of her own soul.

Scarlett was a lost soul.

As lost as Sirius.

There was no place in the world they could truly call their own, so they would have to carve it out, earn it, or claim it.

And what better place to belong than with each other?

It was all they had.

Sirius found himself in Scarlett.

Scarlett plunged into Sirius, claiming his heart as if it had never belonged to anyone else.

In return, Sirius stitched his soul to hers, using the thread that bound their tragic fates together.

Scarlett dug her nails into his muscular arms, the slow, dragging rhythm enough to make the tension starting to boil low in her belly build steadily, fed by the rough, cadenced moans spilling from Sirius’s lips, his deep voice vibrating against her mouth, his body trembling above hers.

The lust that tightened her muscles at the sight of him — so undone, so helpless in her grasp — awakened a fierce sense of possession. Sirius was as much hers as she was his, and her vision blurred at the sight of those eyes, the ones that could tear her apart or make her whole with terrifying ease.

Scarlett curled her toes and let a broken moan rasp from the back of her throat, the steady thrusts beginning to hurt with the overwhelming intensity.

She parted her lips to warn him she was close, but Sirius seized her mouth in a demanding, suffocating kiss, sealing a pact between them that would make them just as miserable as it would make them happy.

He thrust harder, rough grunts vibrating against Scarlett’s tongue as he felt the flood of pleasure breaking through him, sucking at her lower lip as he came.

The way Sirius twisted deep inside her pulled Scarlett into release effortlessly, her walls clamping tight around him, letting all the rigid tension built within her unravel in wave after wave of spasms, ragged moans and trembling limbs.

He stayed buried inside her, the kiss ending with a wet, shameless sound.

Sirius rested his head against Scarlett’s chest, lowering her legs, listening to the frantic drum of her heart, her breath whipping across his neck.

She hugged him close, the wild pulse melting every thought from her mind, their mingled sweat and the heat of their bodies binding them in a connection that felt stronger than the veil between life and death.

Scarlett traced the line of Sirius’s spine slowly with her fingertips, feeling his soft skin shiver under her touch. He gave a subtle smile, lifting his face to press a kiss to the corner of her lips before pulling out of her, pushing his trembling fingers back inside to keep his seed from spilling out.

The wicked side of Sirius loved seeing her filled with his cum.

"I’m amazed the lid of this piano’s holding us..." Scarlett murmured as Sirius lay back down over her.

"For the price I paid for it, it’d bloody well better last through eight generations before even thinking about cracking..." he snorted a laugh, closing his eyes as Scarlett raked her fingers gently through his hair.

She shielded her eyes with a hand against the bright chandelier above them, still wrapped in the intoxicating haze that came from shagging Sirius Black.

He soon reached for his wand and doused the lights, so the only glow came from the large windows around the piano, lit faintly by the streetlamps outside.

"Was it very expensive?" Scar asked, lowering her gaze to him.

"Uh-huh," he grunted, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Nearly cost as much as this house..."

"What?" Scarlett frowned, her fingers weaving through the strands of his black hair. "I knew it was expensive... but not that expensive..."

"I wanted to buy one just like — or close to — the one you had. And this is the top brand... It’s alright. My uncle left me enough," he added lazily.

"Sirius..." Scarlett called softly.

He rested his hand between her breasts, propping his chin on the back of it, peering up at her curiously, a few locks of hair falling into his face.

"I’m... I’m sorry for..." she faltered, chasing after the words scrambling to escape her mind. "...for being so absent these past weeks."

She ran her fingers along the tattooed bones of his hand, stopping at his rings, feeling the coolness of the metal against her skin.

"I didn’t even... notice... or realise what you were doing and—"

"Scar..."

"Let me finish," she whispered, wetting her lips, her face burning with the fresh tears gathering in her eyes. "I can’t even tell you how grateful I am... for everything you’ve done and are still doing and... I’m sorry if—"

"You don’t need to apologise to me, Scarlett," Sirius said, wiping her tears gently, a soft smile touching his lips. "We’re in this together. You’re not getting rid of me that easily," he added proudly, giving her a kiss before standing up, stretching as he let out a long, lazy yawn.

"Getting rid of you? Abandoning a dog on the street’s a crime," Scarlett teased, pushing up on her elbows to watch him.

Sirius snorted a laugh, flipping her off.

"Shut it," he said, digging around in his backpack, shoving his whole arm inside. "Do you want to go back, or...?"

Scarlett drummed her fingers on the wood, flicking her wand to light up the room.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes with a groan.

"Could we... could we sleep here?!" she asked, lowering her gaze to between her legs where the thick liquid was trickling down. She cleaned herself with a non-verbal spell and slid off the piano, using her T-shirt to wipe the sweat marks from the wood.

"We could... what are you doing?" Sirius raised an eyebrow as he pulled a large box from the backpack — a massive sleeping bag package.

"Cleaning my piano?!" she retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. The sight of Scarlett, naked, scrubbing the piano lid with her T-shirt was... not exactly what he’d expected.

"Alright then..." he shrugged, pulling the sleeping bag out of the box. "You want to sleep here in the living room or... in the bedroom?"

"Either’s fine..." Scarlett watched as Sirius turned the sleeping bag around in every possible angle.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to figure out how the hell this thing opens," he grumbled, tossing it onto the floor and blowing out a loud breath in frustration.

"Have you read the instructions?"

Sirius stared at her like she’d just suggested something utterly insane.

"Instructions? No one reads that rubbish!" he said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his hair loose from its tie.

Scarlett sighed, quietly fascinated by how the light washed out Sirius’s skin even further, her gaze roaming over every inch of his naked body, even the scars on his leg, and she smiled genuinely at the thought that this man was hers.

"There must be a zip... or something to open it..." she suggested, pulling on her clothes under the heavy stare of her boyfriend. "You’ve never used the sleeping bag before?"

"No, it’s not even mine..." Sirius stood there, completely unbothered.

"No? Whose is it, then?"

"I think it’s Wormtail’s."

"Are you not going to get dressed?!" Scarlett asked with a half-embarrassed laugh.

"Why would I? I’m in my own house," he huffed arrogantly.

"The neighbours might see you starkers through the windows..." she said, sitting on the floor and running her hands along the sleeping bag, finally finding the very well-hidden zip.

"Their lucky day," Sirius grinned smugly, making Scarlett let out a disgusted noise. "What?"

"I wish I had your self-esteem, Sirius..." Scar said as she unzipped the bag and glanced up at him.

"You should. Half of Hogwarts fancied you," he said, gathering up his clothes and tugging on just his underwear.

"They didn’t fancy me, they fancied my Signet..."

Sirius grabbed the sleeping bag and took her hand, leading her into their bedroom.

"Of course not, the Signet’s just a bonus," he said, rolling his eyes. "But... Scar... if we ever had kids... um..." Sirius spread the sleeping bag out on the floor, trying — and failing — to hide the nerves flickering across his face. "They’d have one too, wouldn’t they?"

"They would," Scarlett said, crawling into the sleeping bag with a yawn. "That’s why... I don’t know, it’s a bit complicated, really..."

Sirius slipped in beside her, resting his cheek on his hand as he gazed at her, switching off the lights so the only glow came from the windows, flooding the room with moonlight.

"I know, I’m not even thinking about it properly now, it’s just that..." He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close against his chest, his heart hammering beneath her ear. "...I'm just excited about our life together. Far away... away from everything."

Scarlett’s eyes gleamed with sadness.

She could almost touch the aching loneliness inside her as she breathed in deeply.

She’d felt so hollow for so long that even a fleeting glimpse of happiness was enough to make her cling to it desperately, hoping it might ease the crushing weight of grief on her chest.

Unfortunately, her great-great-grandfather Sebastian had been right.

"So am I," Scarlett murmured against his chest, feeling it rise and fall slowly beneath her. "Goodnight, Sirius."

"Goodnight, kitten."

.

.

.

Sirius buried his face into the sleeping bag when the sun rose, one arm flopping out lazily.

The summer heat was unbearable, and he woke up drenched in sweat, squirming and kicking until he realised Scarlett was no longer lying beside him.

"Scar?" he called out, his voice echoing drowsily around the empty room, hoarse and thick with sleep. The sunlight stabbed at his still-sleepy eyes.

He cleared his throat and scrambled up, his heart beating faster with rising worry.

Shielding his eyes with one hand, he stumbled down the corridor towards the other rooms, his vision still blurred with exhaustion.

"Scarlett?" he called again, a little louder this time.

Blinking furiously, he rubbed at his eyes with both palms, stopping only when he heard a soft splash from outside.

He followed the sound to the back door beside the laundry room, accessible through the living room. The fresh morning air hit his face as he opened it.

Bathed in the golden light of the sun, Scarlett was swimming in the pool, the water around her shimmering like liquid gold.

As she surfaced, Scarlett looked over at Sirius with a playful smile — completely naked.

Sirius let out a breathless laugh of sheer relief, his heart slowing as he drank in the sight of her so carefree and uninhibited.

Still chuckling to himself for having worried so much, he wandered over to the nearest lounger and collapsed onto it, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

"You never said there was a pool..." Scarlett said as she swam lazily, a smile playing on her lips.

"Ah, I was a bit busy... chasing my girlfriend..." Sirius rolled his eyes. "...and shagging her on top of the piano."

"On top of the piano? How shameless!" Scarlett gasped, pretending to be scandalised. "It was boiling and I didn’t want to wake you..."

"The house has air conditioning, you know?!" Sirius crossed his arms, his eyes roaming over her body with open lust.

"No!" Scarlett splashed water at him before diving under again.

"Now you know," Sirius teased as she resurfaced. "But the pool was on purpose. Didn’t you use to swim in the river every morning at Durmstrang?"

Scarlett nodded, squinting against the brightness.

"How do you know that? I never told you," she said, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned against the pool edge.

Sirius’s smile faltered, though he tried to keep it in place.

"Your dad told me... when he taught me how to ride the bike."

"I did swim, but only for the first two years... after that, it got too dangerous," Scarlett said, forcing her face to stay serene before she turned and began swimming again.

The sound of water lapping against the pool was the only thing between them.

Sirius let himself relax a little, setting aside all the stress he’d been carrying just to watch Scarlett spinning in the water with such grace and ease.

"Don’t you want to come in?" she asked after a long stretch of silence.

"No," Sirius said, standing up as his stomach gave a loud growl. "Can I invite Prongs over? He had no idea about the surprise either... it was Moony who helped me find the house, actually."

"Of course you can... and I do need to buy some clothes... bikinis..." Scarlett cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Want to go to the shopping centre today?"

"Yeah..." she said, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic. "Could you ask Lily and Pandora too? And Remus?"

"I can," Sirius nodded. "Want to take the chance to buy the furniture as well?"

Scarlett tapped her finger thoughtfully against her lower lip.

"I think so. Might as well take advantage of having James and Remus to help carry everything, right?"

"Who do you think helped haul the piano into the living room?" Sirius scratched the back of his neck. "Me, Remus, and Pandora."

"Pandora? How come?"

"Bought it from her uncle," he shrugged. "I’m heading inside — you shouldn’t stay out here too long, you know the neighbours can see you starkers from here." He added casually.

"What?" Scarlett spun around, alarmed, but all she could see beyond the ivy-covered wall were a few apple trees.

Sirius burst out laughing at her reaction.

"Oh, piss off, Sirius!" she shouted, splashing water at him, forcing him to dart back inside.

"Only joking!" Sirius sang as he headed for the living room, pulling the Two-Way Mirror from the pocket of his jeans.

"James," he said, and the pale face of his best mate rippled into view, James rubbing one eye and sighing heavily.

"Padfoot, where the fuck have you been?!" James muttered, looking absolutely pissed off.

"I need you to get Pandora, Evans, and Remus. Get everyone over to your house and use the Scarius Floo address. Can you do that?"

James just blinked lazily.

"What?" He wrinkled his nose and glanced to the side. "You get that, Wormtail?"

"I got it. You didn’t?"

"Wormtail’s back from France?" Sirius frowned.

"Got back as soon as I could!" Peter shoved his face into the mirror’s reflection, throwing an arm around James’s shoulders. "What’s with the address?"

"You’ll see!" Sirius grinned mischievously. "And bring food! I’m starving."

"Capisce," Peter said, disappearing from view, while James remained completely deadpan.

"What’s the matter?" Sirius didn’t bother hiding the irritation on his face. "Did I do something?"

"It’s not what you did — it’s that you didn’t tell me you were just going to disappear with Scarlett in the middle of the night!" James said, wearing a sour smile.

Sirius licked his lips, raising his brows, the silver of his eyes flickering between stiffness and an attempt at patience.

"I’m sorry, alright? She had a nightmare, asked me to take her out and—"

"That’s not the bloody point, Sirius!" James cut him off. "I was scared out of my mind, wondering what the hell could’ve happened!"

"We’re fine!" Sirius tried to justify, tension stiffening his shoulders. "I don’t get it, James—"

"You’re not fine. And you barely even talk to me!" James snapped, clearing his throat roughly. "And now you’re just... what, moving somewhere else without saying a word?!"

Sirius opened his mouth, scrambling for something to say — but the truth was, he had no bloody clue what to say.

As much as he hated to admit it, James was right. There was too much weighing on him right now, and he hadn’t wanted to add his best mate onto that list.

"I wanted... I wanted it to be a surprise," Sirius mumbled, his face burning with shame. "I’m... I’m sorry, James, I thought..."

"Wow. Congratulations, Sirius." James clapped his hands sarcastically. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I’m still here too, Sirius! For both of you! But all you’ve done these past days is push me away. For fuck’s sake, I lost them too!" James’s voice cracked halfway through, and he clenched his jaw, breathing deeper to steady himself. "And all my best mate’s done these past days is piss off out of the house doing Merlin knows what, and when he bothered to come back, he just hid away in bed with his girlfriend. You went, like, three bloody days without even looking me in the face!"

Sirius ground his teeth, forcing down the wave of desperation threatening to crash into his chest, a vein bulging at his neck from the tension in his jaw.

"I don’t have the time or the fucking headspace for your tantrum right now, James," Sirius hissed, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "I love you, you’re my best mate, but..." The hand holding the mirror trembled slightly, and he took a deep breath. "I’m dealing with too much right now."

"Why... why did I even think you’d care?!" James whispered, wiping away a rogue tear that slipped from behind his glasses.

"Because I do care!" Sirius gasped, blinking rapidly, trying to keep himself from crying too. "Just get over here, please..."

James pulled off his glasses and scrubbed at his face roughly, exhaling long and hard as though trying to wrestle his emotions back under control.

"Fine," he muttered reluctantly. "Whatever..."

Sirius watched, hurt and stunned, as the image of his friend blurred and vanished.

He took a very deep breath, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of his own house, his mind a roaring storm of everything weighing him down, the air slicing painfully at his lungs.

He forced himself to smile when Scarlett came back inside, wearing his T-shirt and dripping water all over the wooden floor.

"I spoke to James, they’re on their way..." Sirius said, pretending to be busy stuffing the mirror shard back into his jeans pocket. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Scarlett smiled, drying herself with a flick of her wand. "Are you alright?"

Sirius had never once felt grateful to his parents for anything. In that moment, though, he silently thanked them for the years spent learning to control his face — because when he pulled on his smiling mask and nodded, the silver in his eyes was already darkened by all the worries gnawing at him.

"Everything’s great," he said smoothly, his voice light and easy.

Maybe that was why Scarlett simply made a sound of agreement and kissed him on the cheek before spinning on her heel.

"I’m going to have a shower."

"Alright," Sirius said, leaning heavily against the piano, his hands gripping the lid tight.

As soon as Scarlett disappeared into the bedroom, the air rushed from his lungs all at once and he covered his face with both hands, wrestling to steady his breathing, fighting the crushing pressure trying to choke him.

"Everything’s great," he repeated to himself, cracking his neck before starting to get dressed.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXVII

The shopping centre was just a few minutes’ walk from the new house Sirius had bought. The sun, however, showed them no mercy. As soon as they reached the shaded, air-conditioned space, he leaned against a pillar and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, listening to James and Peter grumble while Remus, Scarlett, Pandora, and Lily claimed the bench nearby.

"We could take the car next time..." Sirius sighed, resting his head against the cold marble of the column. "I think I’ve scorched my bloody face..."

"You said the shopping centre was five bloody minutes away!" James complained, wiping his glasses on the hem of his T-shirt. "But I counted ten."

"Oh, Prongs... for Merlin’s sake..." Remus sighed, all awkward on the wooden bench. "Five or ten, what difference does it make?"

"The difference is my bloody bollocks are sweating, Moony." James pointed out, running a hand through his damp hair, so irate he barely filtered his words.

"James, no one wants to hear about your bollocks!" Scarlett took a deep breath and crossed her arms, feeling a bit self-conscious about the clothes she was wearing.

It was one of Sirius’s T-shirts with a motorbike printed on it—long enough to pass for a dress. And that earned her puzzled glances from passers-by, as if she were some sort of pauper.

"Never thought I’d go to a shopping centre and hear Potter go on about his bollocks..." Pandora remarked casually. "So, while the boys go look at furniture, why don’t we pop into the clothes shops?" She looked over at Scarlett and Lily.

"Brilliant idea!" Lily stood up with a faint smile. "Shall we?"

Sirius turned his face towards Scarlett, as if he knew she was staring at him, silently asking for permission. There was hesitation in the blue of her eyes, and a hint of nerves too.

"You gonna be alright?" he asked, walking up to her and holding out her hand.

Sirius pulled her up and immediately wrapped her in a hug, ignoring the sweat that clung to their skin.

"I think so," Scar murmured against his T-shirt. "What are you lot going to do?"

They parted, and Sirius shoved his hands into the pockets of his chain-hung jeans, his gaze sweeping across the shops before returning to her.

"We can start looking at furniture..." he suggested with a shrug.

"Any idea about colours?" Remus stood too, tracing the scars on his face with his forefinger.

"I want a black sofa," Scarlett requested, taking a few steps back. "Leather."

"Yes, ma’am." Sirius gave her a soft smile. "Anything else?"

Scarlett shrugged and followed Pandora and Lily past the shop windows, disappearing into the crowd. Peter slung an arm around Sirius and James with a pleased grin.

"So... Marauders on a shopping spree?" he tried to lift the mood.

Only Remus seemed to share the sentiment, as James turned his face away and Sirius merely nodded in agreement.

"Do you lot think I should buy a telly?" Sirius asked after a long stretch of silence.

"Why wouldn’t you?" Peter seemed to be trying to lighten the mood with his usual grins... to no avail.

"Dunno... if Scar’s even going to want one, after what happened," Sirius explained, pausing in front of a shop window.

"Should’ve asked her that before she left," James muttered, clicking his tongue. "Too late now."

Sirius pressed his lips into a thin, rigid line as the silver in his eyes turned into twin sharp blades.

"Whatever..." he murmured, walking on.

It was a bit difficult to keep his composure with James acting like that. And it was impossible not to feel unsettled by the fact that his best mate refused to even look at him, let alone react to his sarcastic remarks as they wandered through the shops, checking prices. Remus and Peter had picked up on the weird tension since the moment James refused to greet him when they arrived at the new house.

They had never had a proper row in all their years of friendship—sure, Sirius could be explosive at times (well, many times), but James always made an effort to understand him, especially since they could usually communicate with a single glance. But how was that supposed to work if James was deliberately ignoring him?

Of course Sirius understood his mate’s pain. James was right, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to open up just then—because if he did, he’d fall apart, and what happened in front of Malfoy had already been humiliating enough. He didn’t want to be the weak link again, not when things were finally going well. It was the first day Scarlett hadn’t cried—not in front of him, at least. And that alone was enough for Sirius to bury it all back inside and fake a smile as they stepped into the furniture shop.

He didn’t really have a clue what he was looking for, to be honest. Thank Merlin Wormtail took the reins, starting with the bedroom furniture and moving on to the kitchen. Remus had the best sense of what matched with what, so he was put in charge of choosing the furniture style.

James didn’t drop the scowl from his face once—not even when Remus told Sirius to stand at the end of the bed to check if it came up to his waist, just to make sure it would allow for… ease of movement during any hip action with Scarlett.

"The bed’s got to be special..." Remus carried on, leaning his elbows on the wooden frame. "... it’s where you two are going to make little Sirius Junior!"

"For Merlin’s sake, Moony..." Peter pulled a disgusted face. "We get the idea."

"Why don’t you just conjure the bloody furniture? Do you really need to waste the money your uncle left you on all this crap?!" James let out a noise of disgust. "You’re clearly only buying all this shit to give us something to do!"

"I’m not forcing anyone to stay. If you want to leave, then piss off." Sirius snapped like a whip, killing the smiles on Remus and Peter’s faces.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?!" Remus lowered his voice, as if worried someone might overhear their argument.

"I don’t know. What’s wrong, Sirius?!" James elbowed him. Sirius flinched and took a step back.

"Don’t touch me, James!" Sirius warned, his jaw tight. "There’s nothing going on between us—he just wants attention..."

"I just want attention?!" James laughed, full of scorn. "Have you looked in the fucking mirror lately, Sirius?!"

"I don’t have time for that..." Sirius muttered, weaving between Peter and Remus to get away.

"Yeah, go on, do what you’ve always done best!" James snapped, not even moving.

Sirius stopped as if someone had electrocuted him. He glanced sideways at James, his face stone-cold, nostrils flared, brows knitted. His emotions boiled in his chest, searing. He clenched his fists as hard as he could, the knuckles going white.

"Fuck you, Potter!" His voice rang out, distorted, like it wasn’t even his—just pure rage. "Get out!"

His mask probably cracked at that moment, because James’s reaction was to widen his eyes and let his mouth fall slightly open, his smugness melting into shame. But he said nothing, so Sirius stormed off, breathing hard and uneven.

Sirius straightened up and expertly regained control over his expression, distancing himself once more from the emotions that haunted him. He faked a charming smile for the shop assistant as he picked out furniture here and there according to Peter and Remus’s suggestions, while James wandered among the home décor, looking a bit lost.

"If you take all the furniture together, I can offer you a brilliant discount..." the woman said, a bit too forward for Sirius’s taste, but he merely raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to go on. "But we don’t have a black leather sofa in stock. We’ve got other dark colours... brown and grey..."

"No black?" Sirius didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice. "I... need the sofa to be black."

"I’m sorry, Mr Black, but..." the woman looked flustered, "...they’re all sold out and we won’t have more until next month..."

"Is there another shop in here that sells a black leather sofa?!" Sirius barked.

"Yes, Mr Black, but if you take all the furniture from here I can offer you a fantastic price..."

"I don’t want a fantastic price, I want a fucking black sofa!" Sirius shouted, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Oi!" James interrupted the argument. "Stop yelling at the woman, Sirius. You’re going to get yourself chucked out of the shopping centre."

"Excuse me a moment..." Sirius growled through gritted teeth, turning to James with a pointed finger. "I just need a black sofa, James. If you can’t help, then stop bloody getting in the way!"

The indignation in his best mate seemed to have cooled, because James simply deflated, frowning and folding his arms.

"Why does it have to be black? You’re going to pay way more for such a stupid detail. You can change the colour later..."

"It has to be black," Sirius cut in firmly. "You don’t get it, James..."

"Why?" James clearly didn’t care much about the subject, which only wound Sirius up further.

He hissed, running a hand through his black hair in hesitation.

"Because... it’s what Scarlett wants," he replied, as if it were obvious.

But James had known him far too long not to see what was buried behind that unusual stubbornness.

"Seriously, what’s going on? Why does the décor need to be perfect?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, rubbing them harder than necessary as he tried to organise his thoughts.

"Because... Scarlett..." he drew in a deep breath, trying to buy time to figure out what to say. "She... she wants this sofa and... it has to be perfect, alright? It has to... has to be... enough." He stumbled over the words, all the confidence he'd been faking cracking under his friend’s persistence.

"Enough?" James stepped closer, giving him that look Sirius fucking hated.

A lump formed in his throat.

"Yes!" he looked away for just a second. "I need... I need to be enough for her!" His eyes widened, his voice soaked in frustration. It didn’t take much more for his pieces to begin falling, one by one, like James had dissolved whatever was holding them together. "You’re right, James. You always were. I’m a piece of shit, a selfish bastard... I stopped her from running into the fire, from joining her family. And... and... and I... I..." He gasped, placing both hands on his head with a pained smile. "I’ve hurt her so much, James, and I... I don’t want to... I need to deserve her after everything I’ve done... it’s like... like someone carved a hole in her heart and... and nothing I do..." 

The words tumbled out, one after the other, soaked in anguish and guilt.

His shoulders shook as he brought his hands to his face, trying to stop the tears from falling. But it was too much—everything was too much—it was eating him alive, and before he realised, he was choking, his mouth dry, oxygen refusing to reach his brain.

His vision blurred, his chest tightened; Sirius placed a hand to his throat, as if that might somehow force it to open wider, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He didn’t fully understand what was happening—just that he felt like he was crumbling, like a statue of sand being struck by a violent wave.

Sirius filled his lungs with as much air as he could.

"How... how... can I... make her happy?" he sobbed, against the collar of James’s T-shirt. "She’s lost everything and... and I... I’ve hurt her so many times... I don’t want to hurt her again, I don’t want her to regret... being saved. I... I’m scared, James, so fucking scared..."

The words spilled out against his will. His blood pounded in his ears—chaotic, muddled—as he struggled to breathe, to pull himself back together from the sharp shards that remained. James was speaking to him, but Sirius didn’t even hear—too focused on silencing the panic hammering in his chest and smoothing over the rough edge that twisted inside his heart.

"I’m scared," Sirius whispered, sniffling, once he managed to wrestle the chaos under control. James pulled him tighter against his chest, as if to affirm he was there without needing to say a word.

Sirius drew in a breath, letting it settle slowly into his lungs, accidentally catching the hazel eyes of his friend. It was hard not to punch him in the face with all the pity lines softening his pupils, but then James softened—as he always did—and hugged Sirius even harder, lifting him slightly in the furniture shop as he let out a long, exaggerated groan.

"Can’t believe you’re crying over a girl, Padfoot," James chuckled into his ear, and all the tension Sirius had built inside shattered into a fit of uncontrolled laughter, echoing with everything he’d buried deep in his heart.

"She’s not just any girl, Prongs. She’s the girl," he confided to his friend, voice thick.

"You don’t have to be afraid. You’re not alone in this, Pads." James ran a hand over his face, wiping away the moisture from his tears. Sirius closed his eyes, letting his friend do all the work.

"I know," he admitted softly, almost to himself.

"Then stop pushing us away! Stop pushing me away!" James gripped his jaw, and Sirius slowly opened his eyes, blinking until the blurred vision sharpened on the face of his best mate, letting himself be held in those determined eyes.

"Can you forgive me, Prongs?" Sirius swallowed hard, his lower lip trembling.

"’Course I can. I’ll always forgive you, Padfoot." He pressed a kiss to Sirius’s forehead before hugging him again. "You bloody idiot."

"Sorry... I promise I’ll buy you a massive slice of cherry pie," Sirius said, unable to stop the faint smile that crossed his lips.

"A slice?" James gave him two firm pats on the shoulder—harder than necessary. "I deserve the whole bloody pie, Sirius Black," he declared, half-threatening.

"The whole pie it is, Mr Prongs," Sirius nodded, ruffling James’s hair even more.

.

.

.

Scarlett let out all the air in her lungs as she stared at the massive pile of clothes Lily and Pandora had set aside for her to try on. She closed her eyes and picked up a set, facing her reflection in the fitting room mirror.

Her appearance was far better than it had been on the previous days, and yet, there was still a trace of ruin on her face. She pressed her index fingers to the corners of her lips and curled them upwards, trying to hold the smile after letting go.

"Ready, Scar?" Pandora’s voice from the other side snapped her out of her trance.

"Almost..." Scarlett quickly changed into a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder top. Despite the heat outside, the shop’s air conditioning was strong enough to keep her from sweating to death.

She pulled the curtain aside, instantly scrutinised by Lily and Pandora.

"You look like Janis Joplin," Lily remarked, a few hangers in hand.

"Right?! Doesn’t she?" Pandora beamed. "You and Sirius walk around like you’re a pair of rock stars!"

Scarlett shook her head and laughed at the comparisons, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But suddenly, the smile vanished, giving way to a serious, introspective expression.

"What is it, Scar?" Pandora immediately caught the shift.

"Nothing, it’s stupid..."

"Spit it out!" Pandora pressed, adding more clothes to the ever-growing pile Scarlett still had to try on.

"It’s just..." Scarlett took a deep breath, glancing around before meeting their eyes. "This... guilt... for feeling happy..." she confessed. "My parents and my brother are dead and here I am, picking out clothes and... laughing."

Her gaze slipped to the floor, though all she could really focus on were the words she’d just spoken. Her parents and Orfy were dead. No tears came, even if her heart bled at the thought.

"Scar..." Lily’s hand landed on her shoulder, and Scarlett found herself staring at her perfectly painted red and gold nails. "You don’t need to feel guilty. They’d want you to be happy. Your life goes on and... the people we love never really leave us. They stay right here." She touched her chest. Scarlett might’ve found that a bit odd in other circumstances, but all she could do was fall into the trap of those pale green eyes, untouched by even a trace of brown.

She nodded with a nostalgic smile.

"I suppose so..." she whispered, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

Pandora pretended to pick out a few more clothes, and Lily busied herself organising the discarded pieces.

"Can’t believe you’re dating and about to move in with Sirius! Who would’ve thought, eh?" Pan tried to lighten the mood, running a hand through her platinum hair.

"I never imagined the ever-so-womaniser Sirius Black would fall that hard for someone. It’s shocking," Lily added. "He’s a heartbreaker, you know?!"

Scarlett allowed herself to drift into the conversation, grabbing more clothes before shutting herself back into the fitting room.

"I know—I thought he’d break mine too..." she admitted as she undressed. "But it turns out... I don’t know... we’re really similar."

"It’s bloody delicious watching Sirius Black worship the ground you walk on..." Lily turned to look at her just as she pulled the curtain open.

"After being a complete arsehole, it’s the least he could do." Pan gave an approving smile at the outfit.

"What do you mean?"

"What, you didn’t hear about it?"

"Oh, Malfoy, I skip most Hogwarts gossip..." Lily shrugged.

"Sirius has issues with jealousy. And with his brother," Scarlett explained as she grabbed more pieces. "But that’s been sorted. And Regulus and I aren’t friends anymore."

Pandora scoffed, sitting on the armchair and crossing her legs.

"Still haven’t sorted things out?!"

"There’s nothing to sort out!" Scarlett called from the fitting room.

"What did he do?" Lily sounded intrigued.

Scarlett fell silent for a while.

"He hit me by accident with a non-verbal spell... but that’s not all... he, uh, tried to stir shit between me and Sirius after Slytherin won the Quidditch final..." She pulled the curtain open again, now wearing a fitted The Runaways T-shirt and a pair of frayed denim shorts. "And to top it all off, Sirius wants to invite him to live with us!"

Pandora grimaced.

"And what did you say?" Lily’s lips twisted at the revelation.

"That it was fine... what was I supposed to say?!" Scarlett replied sharply.

"The truth, Scarlett. You should’ve told him the truth," Pandora said with a chastising tone.

"I think Sirius will only invite him once he comes of age... and Regulus turned sixteen this year, so not until next year..."

They sorted the clothes into three piles and carried them over to the till. The shop assistant looked genuinely surprised by the amount of outfits, but Scarlett was too busy having a pleasant chat about Edgar Bones with Lily to care.

Sirius, James, Remus and Peter arrived just in time to see them paying, all four of them staring at the mountain of bags.

"Bloody hell, did you buy the whole shop?!" James joked, stunned.

"Less talking, more carrying, Potter." Lily gestured for him to start picking up bags, and he obeyed without hesitation, wearing a daft expression on his face.

Meanwhile, Sirius pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and paid for everything without batting an eye at the cost. Remus and Peter also helped carry the lot, leaving the last few bags for Sirius.

"I lost my entire bloody wardrobe, James!" Scarlett huffed, crossing her arms in frustration.

"You’re not even going to wear half of this stuff..." he pushed his glasses up with his wrist. "You don’t even have a wardrobe yet!"

Scarlett flipped him off as they made their way to the next stop. To the surprise of the boys, it was a lingerie shop—with some rather suggestive pieces on display.

"You’re going in there?" Sirius looked at her, half in disbelief.

She only flashed a mischievous grin as she disappeared inside with Pandora and Lily. Sirius gave an awkward smile, exchanging glances with the others, who simply dropped the bags on the floor and leaned against the window display.

"That girl’s going to be the death of me," he muttered, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Is Pads blushing?" Remus grabbed his chin. "Think they’ve got a cute little pink collar in there for you?"

"And puppy ears?" Peter chimed in.

"And plushy paws?!" James waved his hands like they were dog paws.

"There’s nothing like that in there!" Sirius snorted, laughing.

"Think she’ll buy one of those?" Peter pointed to a lacy red bodysuit with cut-outs over the nipples and crotch.

"If I die lying down... you’ll know the reason why." Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, playing dead.

"Bloody hell, dying mid-shag..." James grumbled, nudging Sirius.

"Why not? It’s a happy way to go..." Remus reasoned.

"Happy? Without finishing? And stark naked?!"

"Oh, come on, Prongs, no one’s going to care about that tiny little todger..." Sirius feigned winding up a slap to his mate’s bollocks, making James flinch.

"Not tiny, ‘cause it’ll be hard!" James stuck out his tongue.

"If someone dies with a stiffy... how long does it stay stiff?" Peter tapped his chin, thinking.

"Well, considering an erection’s just blood in your glorious bit... it should last a decent while," Remus brushed his fringe from his face.

"How long, Moony? I want exact numbers!" James gestured dramatically.

"I dunno, I’m not a Healer," Remus shrugged.

After a while, Scarlett waved at Sirius from inside the shop, signalling that it was time to pay. He looked at his mates, then took a deep breath and walked over to his girlfriend, clearly uncomfortable. His embarrassment only grew as he took in the lingerie on display. Sirius Black had shagged his fair share of girls in his life, but none of them had worn anything half as daring as what he was seeing in that place—and the thought of Scarlett in any of it made him instantly hard.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his trousers to hide his erection.

"What’s the matter?" Scarlett noticed his awkwardness, eyeing him from head to toe.

"None," Sirius replied, trying to keep his composure, though a nervous laugh slipped out as he became the centre of attention—not just from his girlfriend but from her friends as well.

After paying for the purchases, Sirius found himself carrying oddly fragrant pink bags. The moment he stepped out of the shop, a blinding flash hit him.

"Capturing the moment Padfoot bought lacy knickers for himself..." Peter teased, shaking the Polaroid as the image developed.

The whole group burst into laughter, particularly at Sirius’s very obvious discomfort.

"You lot are the worst friends in the world!" he declared, snatching the bags off the floor. "Any other shop, love?" he asked Scarlett, still looking mortified.

She let out a cheeky giggle that made his skin tingle.

"Shoes... makeup... and I think that’s it."

Sirius made no effort to hide how completely fed up he was with the whole ordeal. By the end of the day, the group finally left the shopping centre, the boys with arms overloaded with bags while the girls walked ahead eating ice cream.

"I’ll never forget the look on dear Padfoot’s face in the lingerie shop. Priceless. Thank Merlin Wormtail took a photo!" James said, laughing.

"I was merely admiring the art on the mannequins, Mr Prongs!" Sirius pretended to be offended, furrowing his brow.

"Art on the mannequins..." Peter echoed like a catchphrase.

"Relax, Sirius, you’ll get used to it. Maybe you’ll even prefer the art on a person rather than a mannequin," Scar said it with such filthy teasing that Sirius had to take a deep breath not to wipe that smug little smirk off her face by yanking her hair.

"Speaking of which, Scar, are you giving Sirius a private art lesson later?" Pandora asked with such casual innocence that Remus let out a barking laugh, James’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, Peter arched a brow, and Lily slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Pandora!" Scarlett scolded, blushing furiously.

Sirius grinned at the outrageous comment—and at his girlfriend’s adorable reaction.

"I’m always open to learning," he said with a wink, biting his lower lip.

"Spare us the details, you two!" James groaned with exaggerated disgust.

"In my defence... it was Pan who started it!" Sirius shrugged off the accusation as they reached a crossing.

"Changing the subject—I'm genuinely impressed by how many bags we’ve managed to accumulate," Remus said, rolling his shoulders and stretching. "Feels like we’re opening a shop, not moving into a house."

"Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you lot. Thanks, really," Scarlett said, glancing sideways at them as she licked her ice cream in a way that made Sirius tap his foot impatiently.

"Padfoot would’ve carried all three hundred bags on his own..." James nudged his glasses up with his shoulder.

"Then we shouldn’t have come... I’d have loved to see Sirius hauling all this with those incredibly muscular Beater arms of his..." Peter smirked teasingly.

"It’s sweet, seeing you two building something together." Lily was the first to cross the street when the pedestrian light turned green. "Almost a bit inspiring..."

"Ugh." Sirius pulled a face, as did Pandora and Peter. "Who even invited Evans to this outing?"

"You did!" James pointed a finger at him.

"Was it Sirius? I thought it was you, Potter." Lily pouted. "If I’d known it was Sirius, I wouldn’t have come..."

"So you only said yes because it was me asking?" There was irony in James’s voice. A bit of hope too.

"Maybe." Lily shot him a teasing smile before continuing on, and James looked like he’d been hit by a Stunning Spell, frozen on the pavement until Sirius smacked him round the head.

"Close your mouth, mate, or you’ll swallow a mosquito..." he mocked.

"Suck my bollocks, Padfoot!" James feigned laughter at the jab.

"Your sweaty bollocks? Nah, I’m good."

When they got back to the house, Sirius dropped the bags to the floor and unlocked the door. The vibe between them was so light and easy that he barely noticed the presence in the sitting room at first. For a moment, Sirius straightened and reached for his wand—but relaxed as soon as he saw it was Thanatos.

"I need to speak to you two," he said, eyes on Scarlett and Sirius. "Now."

All the laughter snapped tight, then shattered under the weight of Scarlett’s uncle’s words. The boys exchanged glances and set the bags aside. Scarlett took Sirius’s hand and gestured for Thanatos to follow them to the bedroom.

Sirius raised a brow, uncertain, as he shut the door behind them. Thanatos paced through the room, glancing out at the pool through the window before turning to them with a stern expression.

"Have you both lost your minds? Going out like that, without telling anyone, not saying where you were going?!" His voice, though laced with concern, was clearly tinged with anger.

Scarlett clenched her fists, not hiding how annoyed she was at his unexpected approach.

"I don’t live with you, Uncle. I don’t owe you any explanations!" she snapped, firm and unwavering, feeling Sirius’s hands rest gently on her shoulders—his silent support warm and grounding behind her.

"Scarlett... after your parents died, you became a potential target!" he raised his voice. "It’s dangerous to go out without protection."

"I don’t need a bloody babysitter!" she shouted back, her voice breaking into tears. Sirius immediately wrapped his arms around her from behind, as though trying to hold her together.

"Scarlett... a preliminary report from the investigation has come out," Thanatos continued, unaffected by her reaction. "It seems the fire was caused by Orfy’s accidental magic."

Scarlett gasped like she’d just been slapped across the face.

"What?" she trembled, narrowing her eyes at her uncle. "No! That doesn’t make sense! I saw him, Uncle—he was alive, and… it was fiendfyre… and he is... was just a kid, he didn’t know any curses, he couldn’t..." She spoke so fast the words tangled, her sobs disrupting the flow. "It can’t be true..."

"It’s not definitive yet, Scar..." he said gently, stepping closer. "But it’s the direction the investigation is leaning and—"

"NO!" Scarlett screamed, silencing him. "It wasn’t him! It can’t have been him, it doesn’t make sense!"

"Based on your statement and Sirius’s, there were no signs of anyone else entering your home..."

"How not?!" Sirius cut in, his self-control slipping with frightening ease. "There was clearly a spell cast to make us sleep so deeply—I felt it, it was in my report!"

"It’s something very intangible—"

"They did a magical exam on me and confirmed it!" Sirius interrupted again, gripping Scarlett tighter in anger without realising it. "You were there!"

"I can’t interfere with the investigation..." Thanatos lowered his voice, running his hands over his face.

Scarlett tore herself away from Sirius violently, bolting from the room and slamming the door with a deafening bang. Thanatos stared at the spot where she’d vanished for a long moment, lost in thought.

"You had to ruin this day, didn’t you?!" Sirius growled, leaning back against the wall. "Bloody hell, Nate."

"Ruin it? I was worried about you! She can’t go out like that. And you haven’t even put protection spells on this house yet!"

"I haven’t had time, Gaunt!" Sirius shot back, his glare blistering.

"Then make time, because my brother, his wife, and their son died for far less!" Thanatos snapped, nostrils flaring, his voice cutting and merciless.

Sirius let out a dismissive laugh, drumming his fingers against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling light.

"When you said you were shit at this, I didn’t think you meant this shit. You’re not just fucked in the head, Nate. You’re a proper tosser." His gaze bore straight through him.

"Scarlett losing her parents doesn’t exempt her from being told off, Sirius—especially when she’s being so bloody irresponsible, acting like we’re not in the middle of a fucking war!" Thanatos cracked his neck, breath sharp and fast.

"For Merlin’s sake, Thanatos, can’t you see past your own bloody nose?!" Sirius shot back, holding himself back from decking that smug face. "Do you think she should just stay locked in her room all day crying over her family?!"

"I want her safe!" Thanatos ran a hand through his blond hair, utterly exasperated. "You promised to keep her safe, but all you’ve done so far is put her in danger!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, Thanatos!" Sirius spat, raising both middle fingers at him. "Do you have any idea how long it took her to smile the way she smiled today? No, because you’re a bloody failure who’s done nothing but drown yourself in fags and booze while I— I —was there for her, doing everything I could to help her feel better!" He pounded his own chest with a fist, barely holding back the urge to swing.

"You’re her boyfriend—that’s the bare minimum you should be doing!" Thanatos remained still, chin raised. "Unless this is a complaint. Unless she’s too much for you. If that’s the case, she can live with me, no problem. It’d be safer anyway..."

That was the final straw.

Sirius lunged, just as Thanatos whipped out his wand from its holster and pressed it to Sirius’s throat. In a flash, Sirius froze—his fists clenched, neck muscles taut, veins bulging at his temple.

"Scarlett will never be a burden to me," Sirius growled. "Never."

Thanatos turned his head to the side. The arrogance melted away as he gave a bitter, twisted smile, his wand trembling loosely between his fingers. He stepped back with a slow, deliberate grace, tucking it away as his gaze drifted into the void.

"Her mother’s family... the Sallows... they’re cursed, Sirius," Thanatos murmured, lifting his eyes slowly to meet his. "You’ll never live in peace because of the Signet. And if you have children..."

"Get out of my house." Sirius pointed to the door, squaring his shoulders and dragging in as much air as his lungs could hold. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he roared, his throat burning, not giving a damn if the others heard the shouting. His eyes bulged, wild and furious, his face flushed, lips curled with rage. "NOW, GAUNT!"

He stepped forward as if to lunge again, but Thanatos Disapparated before he could be touched.

Hyperventilating, Sirius stared at the pale glimmer of the waning day reflected in the pool’s surface. Then, slowly, he turned and walked to the bedroom door, opening it.

He stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, watching the sunlight spill across the wooden floorboards in slanted golden lines. He took a deep breath, inhaling the faint, unfamiliar scent of the new house, exhaling as if to blow the chaos out of his mind.

He made his way to the sitting room, where Peter, Lily, Pandora, and Remus had been chatting about lighter things. The conversation dissolved the instant they saw him.

Sirius cleared his throat.

"Where is she?"

"Out back with Prongs..." Peter answered, gesturing toward the poolside.

"Right... can you lot help me with the protection spells around the house?" Sirius asked, holding himself together behind a mask of calm.

"Of course we can," Lily said at once, pulling out her wand.

"I can’t, I’m still underage..." Pandora said quietly, pressing her lips together.

"You know that rucksack James brought?" Sirius looked at her. "It’s bottomless and still has food in it—can you take it out to the pool area?"

"Alright." She headed to the kitchen as the others followed Sirius.

.

.

.

Scarlett sat on the edge of the pool, dipping her feet into the cool water. Under other circumstances, she might have relished the contrast between the warm summer air and the refreshing pool. But no smile softened her features. There was a bitter taste lingering in her mouth.

She heard heavy footsteps behind her. James sat beside her without a word, lowering his legs into the water and nudging her foot with his. Then, he took her hand. Scarlett wiped her tears away with the back of the other. They stayed like that, silent, the muffled echoes of the argument between Sirius and Thanatos lingering in the background.

"I’m sorry, Scar," James murmured after a while, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her knuckles.

Scarlett turned slightly to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. The setting sun cast gold across his cheeks, his nose, and the rims of his glasses, reflecting off the clear lenses. She lifted her gaze to the sky, where a corridor of grey-tinged clouds was brushed by dusk, framing the moon already glowing against the violet canvas of night.

"You heard the argument?" she asked, still looking up.

"Er, kind of impossible not to… with all the yelling," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "But you do know we’re here for you, right? For both of you. No matter what happens."

In response, Scarlett squeezed his hand.

"It’s just… so… hard," she confessed, sniffling. "When we’re having fun, smiling... it feels so good, because I haven’t felt that since it all happened… but then… suddenly, I feel alone. Like… like there’s a wall between us. Like I’m cut off from the world, from all of you, like happiness is being ripped from my chest… close enough to see it, but... just far enough that I can’t reach it... does that make any sense?"

"Of course it does. I don’t even know... how I’d handle it if I were in your place..." James let go of her hand just to wrap his arm around her. Scarlett rested her head on his shoulder. "I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone." He buried his face gently in her hair.

Pandora soon appeared, carrying James’s rucksack, slowly pulling food out from inside. Ham and cheese sandwiches cut into triangles; leafy green salads with cherry tomatoes and croutons; breaded fish bites with lemon sauce.

Scarlett couldn’t help the small smile that escaped her when she realised it had all been prepared by Euphemia. She gently pulled away from James and stood, spotting Sirius and Peter approaching from one side of the fence, Lily and Remus from the other. They were chanting protective and concealment spells to make the house unplottable.

Once they finished, everyone sat down to eat. Pandora also pulled a few bottles of alcohol from the bag, and Scarlett let the argument drift away as the sting of blackcurrant rum burned down her throat.

"I think we all need to talk," Remus said, stepping in front of Scarlett and Sirius, hands on his hips.

"I don’t want to talk about what happened..." Sirius muttered, wiping sauce from his beard with his thumb.

"No! You two are going to listen to what I have to say." He snapped back with authority, pushing Sirius back into his chair when he made to get up. "It’s obvious… to everyone here…" His eyes swept over each of their friends. "…how much you’re both suffering. And how much you’ve shut down because of it. But… when we’re suffering, it means we’re carrying more than we can bear."

"Ironic, coming from you," Sirius muttered bitterly.

"Shut up, Padfoot!" Remus scolded. "You don’t have to handle everything on your own! That’s why we’re here—to share the burden, so you don’t have to suffer alone! Seeing you both like this hurts… because you wrap yourselves in this impenetrable shell and it’s impossible to help you like that!"

"You’re such a hypocrite!" Sirius jabbed a finger at him.

"I might be, Sirius, but I still care about you." Remus pinched his friend’s nose, and Sirius pulled a face in response. "So when you feel like you’re suffering, promise me you’ll tell us, yeah?"

Sirius and Scarlett couldn’t hide how uncomfortable they looked, so completely exposed. Remus stood his ground, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah," they both agreed at the same time.

"Not just a ‘yeah’! I want a ‘yes, Remus’!" he corrected, like they were schoolchildren.

"Yes, Remus," they repeated, much less enthusiastically.

"Alright, now you can play," he said, gesturing for them to get up.

Taking advantage of the moment, James pulled his cassette player from the rucksack, set it on one of the loungers, and pressed play.

[Music: The Jackson 5 — ABC]

A sudden gust of nostalgia hit Scarlett like a slap. Her eyes widened, her lips pressed together, and the alcohol in her system made everything feel off-kilter. It was Orfy’s favourite song. Her grip tightened around the bottle of rum, and it took her a while to notice James’s hand extended towards her.

You went to school to learn, girl  

Things you never knew before  

Like “I” before “E” except after “C”  

And why 2 plus 2 makes 4  

Now, now, now…

"Come on, let’s dance." It wasn’t a request, though his thin-lipped smile was gently encouraging.

Scarlett wanted to say no, but James grabbed her wrist and pulled her up from the chair.

"This tape’s from Orfy… he lent it to me…" he said, placing his other hand gently on her shoulder.

I'm gonna teach you, teach you, teach you  

All about love, girl, all about love  

Sit yourself down, take a seat  

All you gotta do is repeat after me…

"You… you know how to dance the boogie woogie?" Scarlett stammered, trying to soothe the tide threatening to drag her back into tears.

"Of course I do!" James flashed a confident grin, spinning her in his arms just like he did during their dance classes at the Undercroft.

The two began to move together, with James leading skilfully and Scarlett following along, her laughter bubbling out freely. She used to dance the boogie with Orfeu when they were younger. It was an exaggerated, slightly ridiculous dance—and she was genuinely surprised at how decent James was, matching her loose, carefree moves with ease.

A B C, it's easy as  

1 2 3, as simple as  

Do re mi, A B C, 1 2 3  

Baby, you and me, girl…

"What a weird dance…" Sirius muttered to Lily before sipping his whisky.

"It’s a musical style and an American dance," she replied, mid-bite of her sandwich. "Bit bluesy, y’know?"

"Looks difficult."

"That’s because it is."

Come on and love me just a little bit  

I'm gonna teach you how to sing it out  

Come on, come on, come on  

Let me tell you what it's all about…

Scarlett kept missing steps. She couldn’t have cared less—she was far too drunk for that. James then caught her by the waist and they spun again, morphing into a clumsy, unbalanced waltz until Scarlett broke away and danced on her own, flailing her arms like waves while bending at the waist.

James tried to pull her back upright, but slipped, and the two of them collapsed onto the ground. Sirius shot up in alarm, but they were already laughing uproariously, Scarlett clamping her hand over her mouth as she looked at James beside her, his arm scraped from the fall.

A B C, it's easy as  

1 2 3, as simple as  

Do re mi, A B C, 1 2 3  

Baby, you and me, girl…

"You can’t dance for shit!" she smacked him playfully, and James curled up in defence.

"How can you be good at boogie woogie and completely rubbish at waltzing?!"

"Oh, shut up, James!" Scarlett rolled her eyes, staring up at the starry sky above them.

"You two alright?" Sirius walked over, concern etched on his face.

"We’re fine," Scarlett waved him off like she was swatting away a fly. "It’s James who can’t bloody dance..."

A B C, it's easy, it's like counting up to 3  

Singing simple melodies  

That's how easy love can be  

Singing simple melodies  

1 2 3, baby, you and me…

"Alright then." Sirius didn’t sound entirely convinced, but stayed nearby, chatting with Pandora and Lily.

"Want to see something funny?" Scarlett looked at James with a mischievous smile.

"What?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

With a swift flick of her wand, Scarlett conjured a sphere of water from the pool, levitating it into the air. She stood slowly, guiding the floating orb with her until—dramatically—she hurled it at Sirius.

It hit him square on the top of the head, splashing water over everyone nearby. He blinked a few times, stunned, then licked his lower lip as he turned to face Scarlett, mischief shimmering in the grey of his eyes.

"Oh, you did not just do that..." he murmured as she burst into laughter. Without missing a beat, Sirius took one step towards her, his smile turning wicked. Before Scarlett could react, he gave her a solid shove straight into the pool. "Oops," he said, placing a hand over his mouth like he’d done something terribly wrong.

Scarlett let out a squeal as she hit the water, vanishing for a moment that felt far longer than it should’ve. When she didn’t immediately surface, Sirius’s grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of concern.

"Scarlett?!" he called, crouching at the edge of the pool. "Scar?"

Without a second thought, he jumped in after her, heart pounding. Sirius grabbed hold of her and pulled her up in one swift, panicked motion. The moment Scarlett emerged, she burst out laughing. Sirius wanted to scold her, but her bright, unrestrained laughter made him exhale in pure relief—and then laugh right along with her.

"You two deserve each other," James said disapprovingly as he stood up—though the grin on his face betrayed him.

Scarlett threw her arms around Sirius, pushing her wet hair out of her face. He looked at her, trying his best to stay annoyed, but it was hopeless.

"My hero," she sang, before kissing him, his scratchy stubble brushing against her lips.

That's how easy love can be...

Sirius smiled into the kiss, holding her close while the others groaned in exaggerated disgust. Then he broke the kiss, drew his wand, and pointed it slyly at James’s back.

"Accio!"

Suddenly, James’s shirt yanked him backwards, throwing him off balance and straight into the pool, sending up a wave that drenched everyone nearby. Laughter erupted as James surfaced, stunned and dripping.

"Bloody hell, Padfoot, my glasses!" he shouted, flailing about, seeing nothing but blurred smudges.

"Calm down, I’ll get them!" Sirius dove under.

Meanwhile, Peter bolted and cannonballed into the pool, splashing the girls. Remus hesitated, then rolled into a somersault and followed suit.

Scarlett couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool, but Sirius and the others could, so she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend from behind. The dimples in his ever-present smile made her heart race. He kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Why haven’t you two got in yet? The water’s perfect!" Scarlett called, splashing water at them.

"I didn’t even bring a bikini!" Lily shook her head firmly.

"And I’m always freezing," Pandora replied, sounding utterly unimpressed.

"Keep them distracted..." James murmured to Sirius and Scarlett before swimming quietly to the opposite edge of the pool.

"After the inferno we walked through today, you deserve this!" Scarlett continued, splashing more water their way. Both girls stood up, stepping back to move the chairs away from the pool’s edge.

That was all the opening James needed. With a swift movement, he shoved Pandora in—her shriek piercing the air as she hit the water.

"Don’t even think about it, Potter..." Lily lifted her hands in surrender—then bolted treacherously toward the far side of the pool.

"Oh no you don’t, Lily!" James chased after her.

They ran back and forth until she nearly tripped dodging his arms, but James caught her in a firm embrace. Lily shrieked and wriggled to get free, but James was far stronger. With a gleam of triumph, he jumped into the pool with her, both vanishing beneath the surface for a few moments.

When they finally came up, they were still holding onto each other. A moment of silence fell across the group as they exchanged a glance—then abruptly let go, clearly flustered.

Scarlett and Sirius exchanged a glance of shared mischief and knowing. The way the pool lights rippled across Sirius’s pale skin made him look like one of Hogwarts’ ghosts. He brushed a lock of hair behind Scarlett’s ear as he wrapped his arms around her, their faces so close their breaths intertwined.

"Operation Jily this summer?" he asked softly, his voice muffled by the water.

"Yes, sir." Scarlett smiled, sinking into the silver of his eyes like someone falling into the warmth of requited love. "Thank you for… for talking to my uncle."

Sirius nodded, caressing her cheek with quiet tenderness.

"No problem. I’ll handle him." He kissed the tip of her wet nose.

"Are you hurting?" Scarlett didn’t look away, trying to unearth all the things Sirius had buried over the past days. He blinked, attempting to keep the tears at bay—but they quickly mixed with the water.

Sirius rested his head on her shoulder, letting Scarlett drown him in the soft tracing of her fingers along his nape, in the calm lapping of the water around them, in the laughter of their friends. In the sweetness that wrapped around them, in that cruel, magnetic love that pulled them helplessly into each other.

"You don’t have to carry all of it alone," Scarlett whispered, even knowing full well how alike they were—natural hoarders of pain. It was hard not to box it all up and bury it in the heart, but… Remus had been right.

They weren’t alone.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXVIII

"Oi, Reg, did you hear?!" Terence called from the other side of the Slytherin table, but Regulus paid him no mind. He was far too immersed in his Rainbow tape, ears blocked with headphones, hand scribbling out the essay Remus had asked for on counter-curses.  "Regulus?"

With an irked sigh, Terence chucked a cinnamon bun at him. Regulus jolted and looked up, brushing the sugar off his parchment with his pinkie. He shrugged his shoulder to nudge the headphones aside and raised his eyebrows.

"What?" He didn’t bother hiding the irritation in his voice.

Terence leaned forward over the table like he was about to share a secret.

"Did you read the Prophet today? Apparently, some Muggle spotted your uncle not far from here." He cupped a hand to the corner of his mouth.

Regulus snapped his quill by accident, swearing under his breath as the tip pricked his finger. He closed his hand quickly to stop the blood from dripping onto the parchment.

"No, I didn’t." He admitted, pressing his lips together.

"Why’s he coming here? Is it true that... he wants to finish the job? Kill Potter? I mean... I know he’s your uncle and all, but if I were Potter, I reckon I’d have finished him off after what he did..."

Terence’s voice drifted away as memories floated to the surface of Regulus’ mind like soap bubbles. Sirius had sat him on his lap, tattooed hands stretched out over the grand piano in the parlour. He was playing the notes clumsily, like he was still trying to find the right key, checking against the sheet music.

"Doh, Re, Mi…" He repositioned his fingers over the keys, playing them with more confidence. "Your mum... loved this one..."

Despite the smile on his face, his voice was heavy with sorrow.

"Bloody difficult song..." He pulled a face, as if he'd just done something wrong.

"Daddy, wha’s bloodee?" Regulus stuck his pinkie in his mouth.

"It’s a very bad word you’re not allowed to say. It’s... naughty grown-up stuff." Sirius pressed the keys again, and Regulus felt the muscle in his thigh tense as he pushed the piano pedal.

"Hmm… wha’ moosic is that?"

"It’s a song called Georgy Porgy." Sirius tossed his hair to the side and rested his cheek on the crown of Regulus’ head, the scratch of his stubble making the boy groan dramatically.

"Wha’s a Zhorzy Porzy?" Regulus tried to think what that could mean, but nothing came to mind.

"It’s a bloke who’s... hmm... a tosser." Sirius went back to playing the intro.

"Wha’s a tossah?"

Sirius gave a confused smile.

"It’s a... a silly man." He kept murmuring the tune.

"A silly man? Like dat guy who fighted wiv you and Unkie Jamie ‘cause... ‘cause you wasn’ wearin’ your... um, your hedmet when you was goin’ vroom vroom..."

Sirius stifled a laugh at the comment, still pressing the keys but keeping his hands still.

"It’s helmet, love," he corrected, trying to sound firm.

"Hedmet," Reggie repeated, not catching the difference.

That was all it took for Sirius to shut his eyes and burst into a full laugh, squeezing Regulus’ cheeks and planting a kiss on his hair.

"Why you laughin’?" Regulus frowned, rubbing his messy black hair with his little hands.

"Because I’m happy... because you’re perfect..." Sirius pulled him close in a tight hug, and Regulus snuggled into his dad’s tattooed arms.

"Reg?"

The memory shattered into a million pieces the moment a hand with green-painted nails grabbed his bloodied finger.

Regulus jerked his knees into the table in shock, knocking over a goblet of pumpkin juice right onto his parchment, the sweet haze of the memory clouding his senses.

Victoria, now seated beside him, was watching him with concern.

"Did you hurt yourself?" She made him open his hand, gently wiping the blood with a cloth napkin.

He couldn’t answer. Not while Victoria was touching him with such care, her slender fingers leaving a fizzy trail across his skin.

"He snapped his quill by accident..." Terence explained, shoving a hunk of lamb into his mouth.

"Oh, shit, your essay!" Victoria whipped out her wand with practised ease, drying the juice with a flick, though the parchment was already soaked and stained. But her attention returned to his finger, healing it with a quick charm. "All better."

Regulus had no bloody idea what kind of expression he was wearing just then. Probably something between a dazed prat and a lovesick fool, because she gave him that smile—the one that made her already-adorable rosy cheeks look even sweeter. He chuckled too, still reeling from the echo of Sirius’ piano notes ringing in his memory.

So fast it came—and went. The moment vanished, and nostalgia twisted deep in his chest as the reality returned: Sirius was now a fugitive, and Victoria was getting married—barely had the decency to tell him.

"What’s got you off with the fairies?" she asked, still holding his hand, as if she hadn’t a clue how much her touch tortured him.

He yanked his wrist away suddenly, and her eyes widened a little—those caramel irises no longer soft and sugary, the bitterness rising to the surface as she locked herself behind her usual walls. Victoria’s eyes darkened until they were nearly black.

Words hovered in the space between them, but neither dared to speak them aloud.

Regulus simply turned his face away, hurriedly gathering his roll of parchment as the bell rang. Laughter and shitty comments followed him like a curse as he headed off to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He barely noticed Lua and Victor joining the group, nor Victoria’s forced laugh at one of her brother’s jokes, or Lua’s nasty remarks about his uncle being spotted nearby.

He gripped the strap of his bag tightly as they passed a large group of Gryffindors, his gaze falling on a shorter boy with a distinctive lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Regulus was caught by those green eyes—so bloody intense that even Potter’s round specs couldn’t dull the pull.

"'Ello, Hawwy," Regulus waved at the little boy sleeping in his Uncle James’ arms. "He’s sweeping?"

"Babies sleep a lot, Reggie," James said, adjusting his glasses while rocking his son. "You were the same at that age—always nodding off."

"Um..." Regulus mumbled, sucking on his finger. "He’s so widdle-widdle."

"You were even smaller than him when you were born..."

"Ummm..." Reggie grunted, pouting with a squishy little face.

"Sirius, Reg—" James started to shout, then immediately winced as Harry stirred in his arms. He bit his lower lip, realising he'd cocked up. He cupped his hand over the baby’s ear. "Come change your kid’s bloody nappy!"

No sooner had James finished speaking than Harry let out a shrill, ear-splitting wail. Sirius came running in from the kitchen with Lily beside him, scooping Regulus up in both arms with a look of absolute disgust on his face.

"Sweet Merlin, how many bloody kilos did you shit?!" he laughed, recoiling from the shrieking Harry.

"Dunno…" Reg shrugged.

"Lils, do you mind giving me a hand with the charm? Left my wand in the kitchen," Sirius glanced sideways at her, letting Regulus snuggle into his chest.

"This is gonna cost you a night off, Black!" she rolled her eyes, whipping out her wand and vanishing the mess with a murmured spell—though the rotten stench still lingered. "Just because I’m a mum now doesn’t mean I’ll be doin’ your dirty work for you!"

"Oh, please, when have I ever refused to clean this little bugger’s shits?!" Sirius rolled his eyes right back, carrying Reggie to a bedroom where a changing table had been set up.

"Daddy… I’m not a shittah!" Regulus grumbled as Sirius pulled down his shorts and started opening the nappy.

"No? Then explain this to me, Mister Regulus Sirius Black!" Sirius fanned his nose dramatically, chucking the dirty nappy into the bin and finishing the job with a cleansing wipe.

"Daddy… when’s Mummy comin’ back?" he asked, kicking his feet impatiently against the edge of the table.

Sirius froze mid-motion, like his brain had suddenly been unplugged—as if he were a robot whose systems had just been rebooted. There was something in his expression, something Regulus didn’t yet understand, but it made his dad’s brows knit together, his jaw clench, and those storm-grey eyes cloud over with something sharp and aching.

"I don’t know, Reg." The reply was barely a breath, and something inside Regulus twisted. A yearning, a longing, a nostalgia for something he’d never had and couldn’t even name.

Regulus stopped dead in his tracks, causing Luana to crash straight into his back. She stumbled, grabbing hold of one of the Weasley twins across the corridor to steady herself, nearly knocking him over in the process. Reg’s eyes followed Harry, watching him over his shoulder as the Gryffindor crowd continued down the hallway to their next lesson.

"What the bloody hell, Teixeira?!" one of the twins snapped.

"Don’t touch me, you filthy pauper!" Luana barked back, dusting off her clothes as though Fred Weasley’s family’s finances might somehow be contagious.

"Go back to the bananaland!" George sneered.

"Shut your gob, you right-leaning wonky bastard!" Luana folded her arms and flipped both middle fingers as she stepped back, gripping Regulus' shoulder straight after. "Oi, what the fuck was that, Reg? You zoning out or something?!"

"Get off my back, Luana," Regulus hissed, shrugging his shoulder hard to shake her off.

"Bloody hell, someone’s on the rag today!" she muttered, glancing over at Victoria. "What’s crawled up his arse, Mimi?!"

"No idea," Victoria sighed in a tone of bored disinterest, avoiding Regulus' eyes entirely.

Not that he gave a toss. Beneath that placid shell, Regulus was putting every ounce of effort into not losing it completely. And he was close— too close. His sanity felt like it could vanish with a snap of someone’s fingers. He could feel that ancient magic slithering through his chest, curling around his fingers, whispering in his ears.

It was easier to push it all down by diving into warm, familiar memories now that he couldn’t take it out on the bloody Bludger. He barely registered Remus’ explanation about the Patronus, too tangled in the chaos of his own mind.

"The memory has to be powerful, a moment when you were truly happy... but that alone won’t do it. Hold onto the feeling and recite the incantation... Expecto Patronum." Remus spoke with calm clarity, hands in his trouser pockets. "A Patronus is a difficult charm, and it will be on your OWLs. If you lot want into the advanced class next year, I suggest you practise."

Regulus drew his wand from his pocket, staring at the yellow candlelight glinting off the dark mahogany handle, inlaid with deep green. He watched Lua and Victoria beside him copying Lupin’s wand motion, repeating the incantation—but absolutely nothing happened.

"Uncle Lup—er—I mean..." Luana cleared her throat when a few Gryffindors threw her strange looks. "Professor Lupin... could I get a bit of help?"

"Uncle Lupin..." Fred and George mimicked in high-pitched baby voices—though their grins vanished when the professor walked past with a serious expression.

"How can I help, Lua?" he asked gently, clasping his hands behind his back, though his gaze lingered briefly on Regulus.

"The spell’s not working. Nothing comes out of my wand!" she complained, nodding towards Adrian Pucey’s wand, where the faintest wisp of silver gas was curling out.

"What are you thinking of?" Remus asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"The first time I smacked my neighbour with my skateboard." Luana crossed her arms, her silver necklaces clinking loudly against her collarbones. "And it is a good memory because I remember feeling really bloody happy!"

Remus raised an eyebrow, letting out a nasal chuckle as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"That’s not quite enough, Lua. You need a memory that... makes your heart race just by thinking of it. And you don’t have to be laughing, exactly… just… happy."

"But I… dunno if I’ve got one like that!" she muttered, lips drawing into a pout.

"Of course you’ve got a memory like that," Remus reassured her gently. "You just need to dig a little deeper. Alright?"

"Yeah... I guess so," Luana grumbled, going back to practising.

"Anyone else need help?" Remus turned to Regulus and Victoria, forcing the same tone he used with the other students.

"No, we’re alright..." Mimi said, gripping her wand with both hands, eyes fixed on Reg. "Aren’t we?"

Regulus took a moment before replying.

"Yeah," he said simply, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Could you come by my office after dinner, Reg?" Remus asked quietly, almost in a whisper, as if he were afraid the Gryffindors might overhear.

Reggie only nodded, shooting his uncle a look of discomfort before Remus moved away.

"So… what memory are you thinking of?" Victoria asked, eyes on him. On any other day, Regulus would’ve met her gaze with the same intensity—but today, the frustration weighed too heavy on him.

"Do you remember when we snuck off to the playground near home with your Invisibility Cloak?"

Regulus hadn’t wanted to remember—but he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You scraped yourself up all over that seesaw..." He let himself fall into the warmth of those caramel eyes, sweet as honey.

"Because you made me fall off!" Victoria placed her hands on her hips, mouth agape as if properly offended.

"Only ‘cause you told me to jump on my side!" Regulus’ smile grew wider, the earlier tension easing with the sound of their laughter.

"But I was smaller than you—obviously that was going to happen!" she argued, her snow-pale brows drawing together.

"You’re older than me, Victoria. I was your responsibility." On instinct, Regulus slipped his arm over her shoulder, unaware of just how dangerously close they’d become.

"Yeah… you were," she replied softly, the smile now fading into a trail of something far more uncertain.

Regulus didn’t pull away.

He was too lost in the way her pale lashes framed her eyes; the tiny freckle beside her left one; the platinum strands of hair cascading over her shoulders like threads of moonlight. The way her makeup-flushed cheeks turned an even deeper pink; the sharp bob of her throat as she swallowed; the gleam of cherry gloss on her parted lips.

Beautiful… so beautiful it hurt. It scrambled his heartbeat, dissolved the entire world around him, made his blood rush like wildfire.

"Think of that... when you... when you try the spell," Mimi whispered, her voice oddly shaky and affected before she stepped away, cracking the little dome Regulus had built around the two of them.

Many things had a vice grip on his heart that school year. Victoria was one of them. He remembered that day perfectly—their breathless, belly-deep laughter echoing in his chest, Victoria’s flushed cheeks, the butterflies in his stomach as they flew up and down on the seesaw.

"Expecto Patronum!" Regulus recited, and his wand spat out a few silvery sparks, though nothing truly formed. He took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and tried to shut out the whole class chanting the same words over and over.

He let the memories simmer through his mind, grasping at a very specific one, letting it flood his vision, warming his body, bringing colour and life to the Potters' home in Godric’s Hollow.

He didn’t remember much of the inside of the house—but there was a sofa, because that’s where Sirius and James used to sit while they talked. He couldn’t recall the colour or the texture of the fabric—he was always in someone’s lap. And when he felt the rough, scarred hands wrapped around his little fingers, he realised he’d been curled up with Remus, watching the glass of juice he was sipping from.

"Reg, when you go off to Hogwarts, what’re you gonna say to the Sorting Hat?" Sirius had come closer, those bright eyes fixed on his son.

"GWYFFINDO’!" Regulus shouted, throwing his little arms in the air, practically vibrating with excitement.

Remus choked on his juice and James burst into a laughing fit. But all Reggie cared about was the proud expression on Sirius’ face.

"Expecto Patronum!" Regulus flicked his wand sharply—and a silver blur erupted from the tip, only to dissolve like mist in the wind.

"Bloody hell, you almost had it!" Luana clapped a hand over her mouth in surprise. Luckily, her reaction didn’t draw attention from the others. "Were you thinking about your mad uncle?!"

"Stop calling him mad, Luana!" Victoria snapped, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Sorry…" she gave a sheepish smile. "You know I’m only messing about, right, Reg?"

"I know," Regulus replied curtly. "Just... think of something that really made you happy, Lua."

"Ugh, I’ve accepted I’m gonna fail the DADA OWL..." she sighed, going back to her practice.

"You won’t, we’ll help you—same way you help us in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures..." Victoria gave her friend a few encouraging pats on the shoulder.

"Yeah... alright then." Lua shrugged with a small, bashful smile.

Regulus smiled too, though he pretended to be too busy practising. He let the feeling wash over him again, flicking his wrist as he spoke the incantation—another silver blur, which vanished just as quickly as it came. He took a deep breath, biting his lower lip as he sank, once more, into that memory.

Into James’ loud, unhinged laughter, the restrained way Remus chuckled, and the way Sirius looked at him. Those irises brimming with pride, shaded with brooding silence, tinged with longing. His face lit up in the purest smile, but his eyes looked like they were moments away from crying with the deepest, sharpest pain.

It was that same look Sirius had given him when he played Georgy Porgy, his fingers now more confident on the keys, the melody echoing through Regulus as if it could reach a time before he was born—as if it could touch a feeling so strong it almost became real, so toxic it could choke him, and so volatile it was impossible to hold on to.

With his chin resting on Regulus’ head, Sirius began to cry in silence. The tears fell through his beard, dampening Reggie’s forehead. He kept smiling, unaware of the torment his father carried, too busy hugging him tightly.

" It’s not your situation… I just need contemplation over you.. ." Sirius sang in a hoarse voice. " I’m not so systematic, it’s just that I’m an addict for your love… "

Regulus closed his eyes, feeling his father’s heartbeat matching the rhythm of the song, like it was trying to say he was there—still there. He stroked his dad’s beard with tiny fingers. Sirius smiled and kissed his hand without missing a note, as if the music was stronger than him. Like an instinct, a roar from deep within his chest, a reflection of days long gone, stolen away by the wind.

"I’m not the only one that holds you… I never ever should’ve told you, you’re my only girl… you’re my… my…"

He faltered, exhaling, chest tightening.

"Only world."

Sirius sniffed, pulling his fingers back from the piano like the keys had caught fire. He wiped his face with the collar of his shirt and wrapped his arms around Regulus, breathing in his baby scent as he shut his eyes tightly.

"Your mum loves this song," he confessed, threading his fingers through his son’s silky hair.

"And I love yooou, Daddy!" Regulus mumbled with sleepy affection into his father’s dark locks.

Sirius smiled, tickling him. Reg squirmed in his arms, laughing so hard a bit of snot came out, then hugged Sirius tightly straight after. If there was one thing his father had never denied him, it was his arms.

"I love you too, son."

Scarlett turned her face away from the dog’s slobbery tongue, her expression lit with purest happiness.

"Expecto Patronum!" Regulus repeated the incantation.

"What the bloody hell, Reg?!" Lua said, hands on her hips, stunned.

A massive feline had leapt from his wand, scattering silvery light across the entire DADA classroom and drawing the attention of everyone present. The lion stood proudly atop the professor’s desk, raised its head, and let out a deep, echoing roar before vanishing into mist. Regulus stood frozen, just as shocked as the rest.

"A lion?!" Victoria stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Very well done, Reg—Mr Black," Remus corrected himself with a small cough. "Twenty points to Slytherin."

"I can’t believe that Slytherin’s Patronus is a lion!" one of the Gryffindors burst out, clearly disgruntled.

Regulus gave his uncle a confident smile, who returned it with unmistakable pride. The bell rang soon after, but it wasn’t enough to break the moment. After so many grey days, something light and gentle settled over Reg—a warmth, soft and full of kindness. For a few seconds, the weight of Sirius being on the run, and the aching absence of his mother, simply vanished. It was fleeting, but it was real. He hugged Remus tightly once all the other students had left and only he, Lua, and Mimi remained in the room.

"I’m so proud of you!" Remus kissed the top of his head, just like Sirius used to. "And by the way… happy birthday."

Reggie buried his face in his uncle’s patched-up robes, not saying a word, wishing he could stay in his arms the entire day. He wasn’t used to celebrating his birthday—his father and grandfather had both died on the very day he was born. Although, before Sirius was sent to Azkaban... they had celebrated his first three birthdays.

The weight returned quickly, wrapping around him again as soon as Remus let go. Regulus stepped back, pressing his lips together. Victoria’s hand touched the back of his neck as she whispered her congratulations. But the joy of conjuring his Patronus dissolved like frost in sunlight the moment they stepped out of the classroom and Reg found himself under the suspicious glares of the other students.

"How did Dumbledore even allow you in this school?!" Angelina Johnson, Chaser for the Gryffindor team, looked him up and down with disgust. "You’re clearly helping your murderer uncle."

"Shut your mouth, Johnson!" Victoria hissed, her white hair flickering as though threatening to change colour.

Regulus pretended not to notice, but the tension between Slytherin and the other houses had only grown worse with the rumours that he was aiding Sirius Black. Obviously, it had just been a joke on the Hogwarts Express, but it was enough to set the entire school ablaze with gossip, spreading like wildfire along a lit fuse.

He forced a smile as he accepted congratulations from Miles, Terence, and Adrian at dinner—though a number of the Slytherins looked none too pleased that his Patronus had taken the form of a lion. And that only made him retreat deeper into his own thoughts.

.

.

.

"We’ll wait out here..." Victoria gave him a faint smile, leaning back against the wood-panelled corridor wall.

"Yeah... just don’t take forever… I’ve got to go shake down Weasley for that money I lent him..." Luana muttered as she plonked herself on the floor.

“You? Lending money to the twins?!”

"It was just one of them, and I’ll be paid back—with interest and a late fee." Luana rolled her eyes, resting her head against the wooden panelling.

"How can you be so sure? They can barely afford their school supplies…"

Regulus gave the door two light taps, and it swung open with a gentle creak. He gave a small wave to the girls before stepping into the lamplit room. He’d never been inside a professor’s quarters before and was surprised by how spacious Remus’ was: a large sofa against the left-hand wall, two more around the fireplace, Persian rugs covering the floor, a drinks cabinet, trunks, a magical mirror, and a grandfather clock ticking softly with its pendulum swinging.

Remus sat in front of the fire, a modest tea set laid out and already steeping.

"Come in, Reg," he said, gesturing to the sofa beside him, the firelight casting shadows across his tired face.

Regulus walked over and sat down, arms crossed over his chest. The open space made the room feel chillier, even with the fire burning.

"What were you thinking about when you cast your Patronus?" Remus handed him a teacup, his gentle smile steady.

The porcelain was warm against his fingers, taking the bite out of the October air. Regulus regretted leaving his scarf in the common room. He looked at Remus with hesitation, like he was afraid of how his uncle might respond.

"Sirius..." The name of his godfather made Remus’ eyes widen slightly. "Before he... before he was arrested... he used to sing to me. On the piano. And I remembered... once, when he played and sang Georgy Porgy, and... after that, he told me he loved me."

He shouldn’t have felt bad saying it aloud. But the way Remus’ brown eyes suddenly went stiff—just slightly—made the regret seep into every pore of his skin. Thank Merlin he hadn’t mentioned the photo of his mum.

"You didn’t..." Remus paused, as if weighing his words. "You didn’t think of any of your other uncles?"

Regulus took a sip of tea, the hot liquid burning slightly down his throat. He shook his head, eyes fixed on his wavering reflection in the dark drink.

"Reg, why this... obsession with Sirius?"

There was no anger in Remus’ question. But no softness, either.

"What?!" He let out a baffled laugh. "I… what do you mean, obsession?"

"You clearly had happier moments in your life… I know that because I was there. From the beginning. I was part of your upbringing."

Regulus wet his lips, holding his gaze steady.

"Because… I was never an obligation to him. Not like I was to the rest of you. He loved me. Properly. And I don’t even know how… seeing as I’m the son of the woman he loved and his own brother."

Remus’ expression shifted from wary to deeply sorrowful.

"You were never… never an obligation to me, Reg. And I… I love you."

He placed one hand over his heart, the other closing gently around his nephew’s fingers.

"It’s different, Uncle." Reg murmured, eyes drifting to the photographs on the marble mantelpiece above the fire. "You were always with Nate. You never told him off when he hinted I was just like my mum. You lied to me for years—even when I begged to know about her. Sirius never lied to me."

"He did lie. You just don’t remember," Remus replied sharply. "You were too young."

"He loved me!" Regulus’ voice shook as it rose, cutting through the air. "More than any of you ever did!"

"Don’t talk about what you don’t understand, Reg!" Remus didn’t bother hiding the pain in his voice. "I was trying to protect you—"

"Protect me from the truth?!"

"You want the truth, Reg?" Shadows from the fire danced across Remus’ face, deepening the lines and scars like ink on old parchment. "Scarlett left. Sirius became an alcoholic. Then she married your father, came crawling back to your uncle with her tail between her legs—pregnant with you. He still held out for her. But there was one very important detail no one knew... Scarlett killed the McKinnons." Regulus went pale. Remus didn’t stop. "The trial was short. She didn’t deny a thing. Meanwhile, your uncle—he had to raise you, alone. Because your father died before you were even born..."

"I know that part!" Regulus cut him off, grinding his teeth. "I want to know what it was like... before that. What she was like before everything fell apart. Nate never talks about it, and Orfy... I don’t know what’s true and what’s the aftermath of torture. You’re all I’ve got. So please... just tell me something about her. Anything. I know what she did, I just... I just wanted to know her. Like I knew my uncle. Even if it was only for three years... two... even one. I—"

"Reg..." Remus let out a long breath.

"I’m not in the right headspace to talk about that. Not now."

"You never are, Uncle." Regulus slammed the teacup onto the table so hard it sloshed over the rim. "Sirius would’ve told me. Even if it hurt. He would’ve told me."

"Because Sirius was mad about her... so mad he was willing to betray James and Lily..." Remus’ expression darkened with remorse, his lips pressing together as if to stop the words from going any further.

Regulus wilted, swallowing down the urge to cry.

"Would you have told me the truth if I hadn’t found out?" he finally asked, after a long stretch of silence.

Remus tilted his head slightly in his direction before closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I know you—and I know you’ll try to go after Sirius. So let me be clear—you won’t succeed. I’ve revoked your permission to go to Hogsmeade, and I want your Invisibility Cloak handed in tomorrow without fail."

Regulus stiffened, clenching his fists.

"What?!" He scowled, stunned.

"You’ll stay in the castle, and Professor Snape will ensure you remain here during the full moon week."

"But... we’re all going to Hogsmeade for Halloween and—"

"Reggie..." Remus used that patronising tone he hated. "Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is."

Regulus stared at him for a long time. The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire, casting orange light across his face, brushing over his freckles and kindling the steel in his eyes. His whole body was tense—flared nostrils, tight jaw, lips twisted in defiance.

It was hard to hold back everything crawling under his skin, but Regulus gathered up each feeling threatening to sabotage his control—and hurled them away as he shut his eyes. Then, suddenly, he exhaled... and smiled.

His lips curved into a hollow smile. Cold.

The kind of expression he knew unsettled his uncle deeply—because Remus blinked, visibly thrown by his reaction. It was a defence mechanism Reg had honed in response to Nate’s constant impatience with his temper: suppressing everything like wind sweeping through fog.

"Alright." His voice was calm. "I’ll drop off the cloak here after lunch tomorrow."

Remus nodded slowly, shoulders sagging, clearly relieved by the apparent surrender. But he knew—it was only a mask Regulus forced himself to wear.

"Anything else, Uncle?"

Reggie’s eyes never left his. Not even the firelight burning in his gaze could melt the sharp ice-blue streaks that danced through the grey.

"I think... I think that’s it, Reg," Remus stammered, still thrown by his nephew’s composure.

"I’ll head back to my common room, then." He stood in one smooth, deliberate movement, brushing past Remus without so much as a glance. "Good night, Uncle."

Remus looked so stunned he barely reacted as Regulus made for the door.

"Reg…" he called out. Regulus glanced over his shoulder as he opened it. "It’s going to be alright, yeah? I love you."

Regulus didn’t reply. His emotions were caged in that moment, but if he answered, he might unleash them all at once. He only managed a forced smile before stepping out of the room—right into Luana stacking a dozen Galleons and Victoria sketching the sleeping figure in the portrait before her.

"All done?!" Luana ran a hand through her wavy hair, glancing at him sideways.

He barely acknowledged her, walking faster and faster through the narrow halls of Hogwarts as if searching for the safety of a mother’s lap or a father’s arms. But Regulus knew he’d never have that. His best chance had been with Remus—and his uncle had shattered it without a moment’s hesitation.

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Chapter Text

LXXIX

The cold October wind tousled Regulus’s hair the moment he stepped through the main gates, crossed the courtyard, and pushed open the iron gate. He began descending the countless stone steps in one go, skipping some in his frantic reflexes, the magical torches lighting the path towards the Boathouse.

Panting and sweating, Regulus passed right by the building and sat at the edge of the Black Lake, his feet swinging in sync with the storm coiling in his chest. He didn’t want to cry. Regulus Black wasn’t the kind of boy who found comfort in tears, so he filled his lungs with air and twisted his vocal cords into a guttural scream that tightened every muscle in his body and tore through the calm of the star-dappled surface of the lake; birds shot up from the nearby trees, and the ancient magic resonated inside him with the same fury as his voice.

Everything pointed to Sirius heading to Hogwarts.

Scarlett was dead.

His biological father was dead, too.

He couldn’t go after Sirius.

He wanted to go after Sirius.

Should he go after Sirius?

Why not? Sirius would never hurt him.

Would he?

Regulus sighed, staring at his blurred reflection in the water. Doubt thrashed at his core, ripping through his chest violently, his hands gripping the stone ground as he shook his head in confusion. Why was Sirius heading to Hogwarts? Was he coming after him? Or after Potter?

What the fuck was Remus’s problem?

Regulus felt himself swallowed by a whirlpool of doubt, of certainty, of fear, of longing. Sirius was a murderer. He’d killed thirteen people. He’d betrayed the Potters. Why the hell did he still think his godfather was a good person? Why did he cling to that?!

As much as he despised him, Harry Potter was an orphan because of Sirius Black. Regulus’s breath caught. It couldn’t be that Sirius— his Sirius—would be cruel enough for that! That the man who’d taught him so much about love was nothing more than a flowered shard of a killer.

He pulled the photo of Sirius and Scarlett from the pocket of his trousers. They looked so happy it hurt. Why did love have to fucking hurt so much? Regulus ran a hand through his sleek black hair, the kiss looping over and over, the sun shining behind them, the waves crashing in the background with a yellow ball being pushed by the tide. His fingers brushed over Sirius’s face, then Scarlett’s, his gaze lingering on the bikini she wore.

He pulled out another photo from his pocket. It had been taken the same day—Scarlett hadn’t changed, and the yellow ball still floated atop the crest of the waves, just behind Padfoot. Regulus smiled—a genuine smile as he drank in Scarlett’s euphoric expression, the happiness she’d felt on a day when she was still alive.

A delicate hand touched Regulus’s shoulder. Victoria sat down beside him, though she didn’t dare let her feet dangle over the edge of the platform. Regulus knew she had never been taught how to swim. He also knew Victoria hated insects. And Mondays. And loud, attention-seeking girls. She hated it when Luana borrowed her clothes and never gave them back, when people chewed with their mouths open, or when she left a drawing unfinished. And above all, Victoria Rookwood hated summer.

Reggie was fully aware that this girl—the one he so desperately wanted to call his—would never truly belong to him.

She was a broken piece of an otherwise beautiful ornament, but there would always be something missing. Something ugly, or maybe something beautiful—who cared? She was a little porcelain doll doomed to live under the rule of her family, the fearsome Rookwoods. Victoria would make a respectable match with Luke Avery, and Regulus would witness it all from his place of helpless silence and bitter regret.

Victoria looked at him, and it was hard not to be swept away by those honey-coloured eyes, though in the dusk of night they turned to brown, nearly onyx. Her hair was as white as the moon drifting above the Black Lake. Her lips—his downfall. She embraced him, as if she wanted Regulus to share the weight pressing down on her chest.

Regulus didn’t. With him, it was always all or nothing; if he couldn’t have Victoria entirely, then he’d rather not give himself at all. Although... he, too, was just a boy tossed into a sea of uncertainty, born of misfortune, the result of all his mother’s reckless choices, the cause of his father’s death. The salvation of his godfather. Not that he knew that at the time, of course, no matter how much he longed to. Regulus knew more about his friends than he did about himself.

"Are you cold?" Victoria asked, but all he could focus on was the warmth of her, seeping into his body in that one-sided embrace. Regulus remained still, as if her cherry perfume were toxic.

One of Victoria’s hands gently stroked the nape of his neck, the other clutched the back of his cloak. Regulus buried his face in her moonlit hair, resting his forehead on Mimi’s shoulder. He focused on the paralysing sensation she caused in him, awakening his instincts as if she were poisonous.

Regulus had never wanted so badly to be poisoned.

"No," he whispered, voice muffled against her cloak. It was a lie. It was fucking freezing, but Regulus wasn’t about to admit it. Not when he slowly turned his face towards her, his aristocratic nose brushing along Victoria’s jawline.

His gaze slipped from her prominent cheekbone to her thick lashes, landing on those caramel irises. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, stars speckling her gaze as if they were trying to build an impossible bridge between them. Victoria swallowed hard, as if unaware of how close he was. Or, perhaps, because she knew exactly how close he was—and didn’t want him to pull away.

Regulus’s eyes lingered on her mouth, glistening softly with cherry lip balm. He raised a hand, his thumb fitting perfectly into the delicate dip of her chin, as though it had been made for his finger. Victoria’s skin was soft, warm, forbidden. He grew bolder, lifting her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, feeling the sticky cherry gloss under his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” Regulus whispered, the words carried away by the strong wind that tossed his hair and Victoria’s alike.

He wasn’t lying. Bathed in the light of the moon and stars, Victoria Rookwood looked like Aphrodite herself, with flushed lips and tear-laced eyes. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, as if she didn’t know just how stunning she was. She did, of course—but her grace wasn’t enough to balance how rotten she felt on the inside. That’s why every one of her instincts screamed at her to run.

But the truth was, Victoria Rookwood was just as chained to Regulus as he was to her. They just didn’t know it yet.

Regulus traced his nose along her flushed cheek, brushing it against hers until it met the tip of her nose, their warm breaths mingling, chasing the cold away. He inched closer, drawn to that cherry scent like a sailor to a siren’s call.

Their lips met in a fleeting touch. It was ephemeral, as soft as a butterfly landing on a flower. Victoria’s hand slid up into his hair, fingers tangling and tugging hard enough to make his scalp burn, forcing him to lift his face. This time, she was the one who kissed him, her other hand gripping the back of his neck like she meant to hold him there forever.

Victoria’s storm met Regulus’s storm. And that gentle kiss was swept up in the tempest. She sucked on his lower lip, and Reggie gasped in surprise. Taking advantage, Victoria’s tongue slipped into his mouth, spreading that sweet cherry taste, her arms winding round his neck while he gripped her waist and pulled her closer—like she might be able to melt the frost that was crawling up his body and setting itself deep in his bones.

Their tongues brushed in a clumsy, curious dance—exploratory. Regulus had had his fair share of kisses before—a Ravenclaw girl in his third year, a Hufflepuff, and four Slytherins in his fourth—but none of them had ever made his body resonate like Victoria Rookwood did.

He never thought it was possible to feel so much heat. She was a bloody matchstick, igniting every part of him in ways he hadn’t thought imaginable, her impetuous touch in his hair knocking him completely off balance.

Regulus wanted Victoria—he always had—but she was the apple perched too high on the branch, always just out of reach, as if trying to protect him from temptation. But Reg wanted her, even without fully understanding what he felt, even with all the mess clawing at his chest. And frankly, he was tired of bottling it all up.

Victoria shoved him away abruptly. Regulus caught himself on both hands against the cold stone ground, too dazed to notice the approaching footsteps. His entire focus was on a flushed and flustered Mimi, her lips swollen, her cloak creased.

Then he followed her gaze—only to see Luana accompanied by Luke Avery, Aphelandra Pyke, and Achilles Selwyn. It was dark there, though the torches by the Boathouse threw a flickering glow over the group.

Regulus’s breath caught when he spotted them. With a twisted expression, Avery whipped out his wand, and a yellow flash slammed into Victoria, sending her flying backwards into the lake. She barely had time to look at him, terror in her eyes, before she was swallowed by the star-speckled black waters.

“What the fuck, Avery?!” Luana shouted, snapping Reggie out of his daze.

“I can’t believe you snogged my fiancée!” Luke roared, lunging at Regulus.

The shouting above was a blur of garbled noise beneath the surface. Victoria was engulfed by the Black Lake, dragged under as though an anchor had been chained to her ankle. She should have fought—thrashed her arms in a desperate attempt to swim despite not knowing how. Doing what she’d always done best: thrashing in her golden cage, like a bird that longed for freedom more than anything, but when faced with an open door, froze in fear.

Should she fly free into the sky, singing unbound into the vastness of the world—or settle for her song reaching only the ears of her captors, in the small, safe space they gave her?

Victoria Rookwood was exactly what her parents expected: an obedient girl, resigned to her fate, raised to be the perfect match for a pure-blood family.

Which was rather tragic for someone so young. Victoria wanted to be so much more. Every time she tried, her parents clipped her wings, her brothers plucked her feathers, and she was drowned over and over again in a bathtub full of ice—as if the cold might bring back her sense of reason, as if losing consciousness and nearly dying with water in her lungs might somehow tame her.

And it worked… for a while. Until something cracked inside her—snapped so deeply that it was as though she no longer cared about anything. It was the first time Vin hit her, because she’d laughed when he’d tried to cast the Blasting Curse and ended up singeing off his own eyebrows.

Victoria had never been punched in the ribs before. The blow knocked all the air from her lungs, and she doubled over, hands clutching the aching spot. Despite the pain, a strange laugh clawed its way up her throat, slid over her vocal cords, and burst out uncontrollably, breathless and wild.

Vin had grabbed her by the hair, yanking her like a rag doll. Victoria might have been afraid—if she could. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, as if her brother’s failure were the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

He drowned her that day.

Vinny often did that when he got frustrated. Victor was the only one who never hurt her, though he always stood there watching in silence from some corner, his gaze distant. As if afraid he might be next.

That was the problem with pure-blood families: either you were like them, or you were broken by them.

The start of the school year at Hogwarts was always the hardest. Hiding the bruises? Done. Walking as though her ankle hadn’t been twisted the day before because her brother had been frustrated? Done. Wrapping her torso because a couple of ribs might be cracked? Done.

Regulus was a fleeting moment of happiness in her summer, though he, too, was rather withdrawn. They both were, in the end. Maybe that was why they were so close. They didn’t need to chatter endlessly like Luana, but they weren’t frozen in silence like Victor, either.

She and Reggie had a dialogue in their eyes—one that said, “ I’m hurting but I don’t want to talk about it. Will you stay with me?” or “ I really need you here but I don’t know how to ask.” Or, better still: “I like you, but I’ve got too many issues to hold down a relationship and I don’t want to hurt you. Will you stay anyway?”

Simple—and, at the same time, unbearably complex. Victoria was a mess, and so was Regulus. Frightened, cowardly, both of them loved stacking up all the terrible things that had ever happened to them just to compare and see, yes—they’d won the misfortune contest! They were teenagers. And like all good teenagers, they resented imperfection.

Her fingertips were already numb with cold when something pulled her to the surface. Something with silver eyes flecked with blue. The kind of blue only visible at midday, when the sun blazed at its highest and the sky was so intense, so deep, that Victoria felt herself swallowed whole—only to be hurled back by quicksilver and consumed by dark pupils.

As though shocked by sudden electricity, she began to thrash. It was irrational, something rooted so deep in her core she couldn’t control it.

“It’s me…” Reggie whispered, lips trembling and wet. “It’s me, Mimi, it’s me…” he repeated, his voice gentle, soothing that defensive mechanism back into slumber.

Regulus held her with one arm, droplets dripping from his long black lashes as he brushed the freckles on her cheeks. Victoria gasped in the night air, drawing it into her lungs in a choked spasm. Reg pulled her close, her back against his chest, while he swam with the other arm.

And she couldn’t help but look up at the starry sky, her breath forming a fine mist as it left her lips. Her hand clutched Regulus’s triceps, eyes drifting toward Hogwarts. At that hour, the castle blazed with the glow of hundreds of candles, their light shimmering through the windows, towering above the Black Lake like something sacred and unreachable.

Luana reached out a hand from the shore. Victoria grabbed it and was hauled from the water. She was shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold. There was something else writhing in her chest—the sight of the cage door flung open, the bittersweet taste of freedom, the ache to take a step forward even if it meant stumbling two steps back.

Victoria lifted her eyes to Luke Avery. He wasn’t an ugly boy, but he wasn’t handsome like Cedric, nor aristocratic like Regulus. He was just some kid who thought blood meant more than anything else.

“What the fuck, Victoria?!” Luke shouted at her, as though she owed him any kind of explanation.

Her caramel eyes turned to quicksand, ready to pull him under and drown him in the dark whirl of her irises.

She’d been raised to be an obedient girl—but being the youngest of three boys, Victoria also knew how to be feral when she needed to be. She clenched her fists tightly as she stood. The icy wind wrapped around her and tore away what little self-restraint she had left. She took a step out of her gilded cage as she approached Avery. Rage spiralled behind her, tugging the strings in her head as though she were nothing but a puppet. She forced it back, like blowing smoke from her face.

“I knew there was something going on between you and Black, but to shag him when our parents have already signed—”

Luke Avery’s voice grated on her nerves, especially those bland lips, the dull eyes, the blond hair, the red patches on his cheeks… the way he treated her like property, just as her entire family did. The fury returned, brushing the nape of her neck, whispering temptations from the edge of her mind.

“—I’ll demand the contract be annulled. I won’t marry some slag like you—”

She took a deep breath, the way she always did when being submerged in a tub full of ice, letting the water flood her lungs until they burned so badly she blacked out. And that thing curled in her chest just as fast as the air filled it. Her hair flared a fiery red, and she moved—swift as a striking serpent.

Victoria punched Luke square in the mouth. He stumbled back, Luana gasped, Achilles barely reacted, and Aphelandra burst into laughter. Pain shot through her wrist, sharp and blinding, as if she’d broken something. At the same time, hot blood stamped itself across the pale skin of her hand. She’d endured far worse.

She hit him again—mimicking the rib punch Vin had once given her. Luke doubled over, and Victoria understood instantly why her brothers did this: it was delicious to overpower someone with brute force. Her mouth watered, heart hammering, and she tasted Avery’s blood on her knuckles, the metallic bitterness lighting up her tongue.

Finally, she struck him right on the nose. She felt the cartilage crack beneath her bones. She wasn’t the strongest of fighters, didn’t have much muscle, but the sheer surprise was enough—Avery couldn’t even reach for his wand.

And she laughed. Laughed like she’d just been hit herself, her voice echoing across the Black Lake and the Boathouse, rattling the other prefects like she was mad.

“What the fuck are you doing, Rookwood?!” Achilles asked, too stunned to step in.

He was ignored.

"You're so fucking pathetic!" she hissed between fits of laughter. "I’d never marry a piece of shit like you, Avery!" She spat on the ground, covering her lips with her bruised palm, the blood and welts darkening her pale skin. "And you will annul this contract, Luke—but not because you want to."

Victoria loomed over him, her face twisted with fury, her body trembling, seething, hatred pulsing hot through her veins.

"You’re going to call off this engagement or I’ll kill you," she threatened, her face so close to Luke’s that she could feel his panicked breaths against her nose. He looked even more repulsive from that angle.

"Y-you’re insane…" Luke stammered, his nose still bleeding.

"Am I?" She flashed a vicious smile, licking her lips, savouring every second she saw fear refracted in Luke’s dark eyes. "You haven’t seen anything yet, Avery..."

The moment, however, was broken when someone grabbed her. She didn’t need to look. She knew exactly whose hands they were—the weight of Regulus’s grip on her wrists, the feel of his breath against her neck, the thrum of his heart pounding into her spine, the heavy steps, the water dripping from his hair onto her shoulders. She’d known him her whole life, and that hold made her lash out violently.

"That’s enough, Victoria!" Regulus growled, trying to stop her.

Panic thumped through her chest like alarm bells. She fought against it, kicking, twisting, and Regulus let go in shock, as if afraid he’d hurt her. It was the perfect opening—and she slapped him. Hard. Her hand cracked across his face, his lips parting slightly, the pale skin blooming with the shape of her fingers.

Victoria stared at him, stunned. Reggie was paler than usual, his lips trembling, drained of colour from the cold—and from the sting of her hand. She didn’t want the fun to end—not when she was enjoying it so much. But she knew she’d crossed a line, even if part of her still relished what she’d done to Avery. Her fist ached. The guilt began to rise.

"Fuck off!" she snarled, backing away from Regulus in one harsh movement. Her hair shifted from red to deep indigo as she stormed toward the stairs, leaving a trail of water in her wake.

Regulus didn’t move. The cold seemed to seep into his bones, freezing his muscles, congealing the blood in his head. His icy fingers reached for the bruise now forming on his cheek.

"Fucking hell, Black…" Luke panted, lifting his dark eyes to Reggie. "You bastard… sneaky little prick…"

"You heard her, Avery," Luana said, staring him down with a smirk. "She’s gonna kill you—and I’ll bury the body."

Regulus blinked, pulling himself together as he took in the state Avery was in.

"Wait till everyone hears how you cried… like a little girl… after getting your arse handed to you by Victoria," he sneered, earning a laugh from Aphelandra.

"You lot… are going to… regret this," Luke warned through clenched teeth. "You’d… better watch yourselves."

"Watch ourselves? Look who’s flat on the floor. If I were you, I’d keep my distance. She follows through on her promises," Regulus said coolly, stepping past Avery and heading up the stairs, trembling from the cold.

.

.

.

It was hard pretending nothing had happened for the rest of the week, avoiding Victoria between classes and enduring Luana’s puzzled stares. He barely slept in the days that followed, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest at any moment. Pucey and Miles's relentless attempts to find out what had happened annoyed him so much that he was forced to make up a lie about having accidentally fallen into the Black Lake and hitting his cheek on something that just happened to be shaped exactly like a hand.

Halloween morning arrived, and he hadn’t shut his eyes all night. He heard Miles getting up, full of excitement about buying new Quidditch gloves, while Pucey grumbled in yet another episode of sleepwalking. Taking advantage of the light-hearted mood, Regulus masked the light bruise on his face with a charm and got dressed, an odd rush of anticipation stirring in his veins as he scanned the common room for Victoria. He’d decided—he was going to talk to her. About the slap, about the kiss. As soon as they were alone in the Slytherin common room.

She was sitting with Luana and Victor on one of the sofas, sipping tea with her usual composed expression. But the moment she saw Regulus, her face clouded, her eyes widened, and her lips tensed. The happiness that had been building in Regulus’s chest solidified into a block of ice.

"Reggie!" Luana sang, twisted awkwardly across the sofa. "We going to Hogsmeade?"

Regulus swallowed hard, still shaken by Mimi’s reaction. He touched his bruised cheek as if trying to confirm the events of that night had really happened.

"No… can’t," he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging. "My uncle forbade me."

"What?" Victor leaned back, propping a hand behind his head to look at him. "Why?"

"Because of Sirius," he replied, barely more than a whisper.

The group exchanged a tense, loaded silence.

"It’s alright, I’ll stay here. You lot go ahead…" He tried his best to sound indifferent. "Wasn’t planning on buying anything anyway…"

"Reg…" Victoria licked her lips, visibly awkward. "I could stay with you…"

"No, go," he cut in sharply. "It’s fine. I’ve got Transfiguration homework to do anyway…"

All Regulus wanted—more than anything—was for Mimi to insist, to fight for him. But she didn’t. She simply nodded and gestured for her twin brother and Luana to get up.

“See you at the party later?” she asked before leaving.

Regulus forced himself not to fall into the trap of looking at her. He merely nodded, his expression unreadable.

He returned to the dormitory feeling like a complete failure. Every ounce of happiness he’d carefully cultivated in secret now felt thorny, raw, abrasive. He threw himself onto the bed without even bothering to pull the covers over himself, trying—and failing—to block out Victoria as she forced her way back into his thoughts.

Being alone was his fate.

He woke a little before lunch and stared up at the canopy of his bed for longer than he’d care to admit. He felt the blanket. He didn’t remember covering himself. With a sigh of irritation, he sat up, opened his trunk, and rummaged for his invisibility cloak.

His mother’s inheritance.

He didn’t find it.

His heart kicked into a rapid, panicked rhythm the moment his fingers searched through his clothes, scattering them in growing desperation. He always kept it tucked safely beside his socks.

Breathing heavily, Regulus stood, raking a hand through his hair and glancing around as if the cloak might just appear. He cursed under his breath and stormed out of the common room, unconsciously rubbing his bruised cheek with his knuckles. The Great Hall was packed with first- and second-years having lunch, all of them turning their curious little heads as he passed.

He forced himself to eat something before hurrying toward Remus’s office. He knew the full moon was near, just not the exact day. The door was slightly ajar, and as he got close, he heard his uncle’s voice.

“Is that so?” Lupin asked.

Regulus turned his face toward the gap, catching sight of a very messy head of hair belonging to a boy seated with his back to the door.

“Some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts post,” the boy said.

Regulus would have eavesdropped longer if he could, but the urgency of his missing cloak made him even more frantic than before. He knocked twice and entered without ceremony.

“Horrible…” Lupin muttered, sipping from his goblet. “Ah, Reggie, there you are!” he beamed.

Regulus wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes landing on Harry Potter sitting across from Remus.

“I believe you already know Harry…” Remus gestured to the boy, and the two of them exchanged a quick glance.

“Hi, Potter,” Regulus murmured awkwardly. “Uncle, I need to—”

“Uncle?” Harry shot Regulus a suspicious look. He’d never heard anyone refer to a professor like that before.

“Can it wait, Reg? I really need to get back to work,” Remus gave him a tired smile, though his tone was layered with much more. “I’ll see you both at the party later.”

The full moon, of course.

“Alright…” Regulus exhaled, deciding not to bring up the cloak—he didn’t want to get more wound up than he already was. “Looks like I’m not the only one banned from going to Hogsmeade…” he muttered as he left his uncle’s office, Harry trailing behind.

“You were banned from going to Hogsmeade too? Why?” the boy asked.

Regulus glanced sideways at him, eyes landing on the lightning-bolt scar that cut through the pale skin of the Boy Who Lived.

“Ask my uncle— I mean… Professor Lupin,” he corrected himself with a slight cough and kept walking.

“He’s related to you?” Harry matched Regulus’s pace without hesitation.

Regulus licked his lips, unsure whether to admit Remus had been married to his great-uncle Thanatos. Then the thought flickered—why should he explain anything to Potter?

“Sort of… I grew up with him,” Regulus shrugged, not taking his eyes off the Gryffindor. There was a strange warmth buried deep in his chest for Harry, something desperate to rise to the surface.

He didn’t say anything else—just kept walking, though his stride naturally matched Harry’s.

“So why didn’t you go to Hogsmeade?” Regulus asked after a long stretch of silence.

“My aunt and uncle didn’t sign the permission slip… they’re Muggles. Didn’t understand what the… uh, form was for.” He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“That’s shit…” Regulus muttered. “Your mum’s side?”

Harry nodded, his expression dull. A strange surge of empathy rose in Regulus when the boy seemed to wilt.

“You grew up with Professor Lupin, then? He’s the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had…”

Regulus shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure what or how to respond to Harry. Best say nothing; after all, his parents had been Death Eaters, and his godfather was literally the reason Harry’s parents were dead.

“The best, yeah?” Reg didn’t hide the proud smile that crept onto his lips. “Hope he lasts longer than a year… but you know what they say—curse on the job…”

"Yeah… me too," Harry admitted, and they both came to a halt as they encountered a rather familiar figure in the corridor.

Snape narrowed his black eyes at the sight of Harry, then raised a single brow at Regulus. Regulus straightened at once, the sinister gleam in the professor’s watchful gaze making him feel, quite suddenly, like he was about to be caught misbehaving.

"What are the two of you doing?!" Snape sneered, lips curling with undisguised contempt.

"Walking," Harry shot back immediately, staring at him with a boldness that left Regulus speechless.

Snape clicked his tongue in derision, scrutinising Regulus closely. He leaned in towards him.

"I know what you and Lupin are planning, Black. I suggest you stay away from Potter," he said in a nasal, low voice—just quiet enough that Harry wouldn’t catch it.

"What?" Regulus frowned. "What are you talking about, Professor?"

"Don’t associate with his kind, Black," Snape said sharply, his eyes flicking to Harry with clear disgust. "Get back to your common room."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Snape snapped, eyes narrowing on Regulus. "Now, Black."

Regulus huffed but obeyed in silence. He glanced at Harry with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, feigning a turn toward the Slytherin common room—but instead veered off, heading back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower. He slipped into the old clock and descended the hidden staircase into the Undercroft.

He didn’t know exactly what he was doing there—his head was too tangled, too noisy. Victoria’s kiss and slap, the missing cloak, the strange tension of his conversation with Harry… it all sat on top of everything else he was already dealing with. He lit the sconces, his eyes passing over the abandoned instruments as he walked among them, heading for the room that had once belonged to his mother.

He reached the sideboard, where some of the photos had fallen over, just below the engraved inscription on the wall. Regulus picked them up one by one, searching for one that included James and Scarlett. Most of them featured at least her, Sirius, and himself.

Then he found one—different from the rest. James was dipping Scarlett in an awkward dance move, both laughing mid-motion. Regulus wiped the photo clean with the sleeve of his cloak and tucked it into his pocket, the chill of the gallery curling around his legs. His eyes wandered across the dusty furniture—until they caught on a patch cleaner than the rest.

He arched a brow and turned his head, narrowing his eyes.

That was exactly where he’d left his mother’s watch.

The watch that was no longer there.

Regulus opened drawers, searched cupboards, rummaged around the books, cast Accio, even overturned the bed… nothing.

His heart skipped several beats, saliva thick in his mouth. First the invisibility cloak. Now the watch… Sirius knew about the Undercroft—he knew .

His knees went weak, his breath caught and staggered in his throat.

Sirius was at Hogwarts.

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Chapter Text

LXXX

Hogsmeade was ready for Halloween. Pumpkins decorated the streets and shopfronts, pulling grimacing faces and startling a few witches and wizards who came too close. Swarms of bats flitted around the signposts in the middle of the village, and scarecrows wearing wizard hats waved cheerfully at passersby. On the noticeboard in the village’s Central Square, three posters in a row displayed the face of a hollow-cheeked man with tangled long hair.

Regulus crossed his arms, staring at the agitated portrait of his brother, the guilt settling heavy in his chest. He still couldn’t believe Sirius had been locked up for twelve years, completely innocent. Worse still, he had escaped and dragged Scarlett into his suicidal mission to hunt down Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius and Scarlett had always been reckless—and this time, it was going to get them killed.

“Curious…” Lily’s voice echoed slightly, a little behind him. “They’re only looking for Sirius.”

“Do you think they know?” Regulus turned slightly to the side, avoiding her gaze. “That she’s alive?”

“They who?” Lily looked towards a scarecrow that waved at a pedestrian.

“The Ministry.” He glanced sideways at her.

“No idea,” Lily replied, and Regulus turned his face back to the posters of his brother. “I mean… the experiments…” She went on, stepping up beside him. “Who even knew about them? Because if Scarlett killed everyone involved, then… she’s dead.”

Regulus caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. Whiskers, Padfoot and Prongs were sniffing around one of the empty alleyways in search of food.

“The prisoners thought she was dead… which makes sense, after vanishing for that long. But… the Ministry’s higher-ups… there’s no way to know for sure.”

Lily turned her face towards Hogwarts. The tops of the castle towers were visible from where they stood, the pale moonlight sliding over the dark rooftops.

“Do you think they’re friends?” she asked softly. “Harry and Reg?”

Regulus shrugged.

“I suppose… you’d have to be there to find out.”

Lily tapped her foot against the ground, impatient.

“Do you think they’re happy?”

“I hope so,” Regulus admitted quietly. “There’s been enough misery with the rest of us…”

Lily sniffed, gently, her piercing green eyes locked on Regulus.

“You love her,” she stated, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“Of course I love her. She’s my best friend,” Regulus replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean… you look at her like she’s some unreachable star,” Lily murmured, glancing over at Padfoot and Whiskers, who were playing innocently on the grass behind the shop.

Regulus allowed a flicker of vanity to pass across his face as he lifted his gaze to the sky. A sad smile tugged at his lips when an odd urge to cry welled up inside him. But a bitter coldness bubbled in the iron of his eyes, and he drew back into himself, wiping all trace of emotion from his expression.

“There was a time… when I thought she might fancy me,” Regulus murmured, his voice flat. “But Sirius was always the sun. And when the sun rises… the stars and the moon vanish.”

There was a fair bit of hurt in Regulus’s voice, and he made no effort to hide it. He simply stepped back, following Prongs, Padfoot and Whiskers down the cobbled path. The darkness of night was pushed back by the ghostly glow they emitted, their gazes lifting gradually towards the shining castle atop the hill: yellow, orange and red twinkled in the hundreds of windows, swallowing up the silvery moonlight.

“Never thought I’d see Hogwarts after I died,” Lily whispered, staring at the school with a nostalgic air.

Her gaze, however, didn’t stop on the stone structure. There was something more there, too.

Floating black dots. Whiskers, Padfoot and the ghosts raised their heads, staring at the black cloaks billowing in the icy October wind. They made their way towards the Forbidden Forest, the ominous presence of the Dementors making everything colder, more sorrowful. Whiskers advanced onto the grass under the meagre moonlight, pressing the knot of the Whomping Willow.

Padfoot and Prongs went in, followed by Regulus and Lily. The tunnel of dark stone reflected the lights of the ghosts, who crowded close as Padfoot and Whiskers stopped in front of a door. Scarlett grew larger, drawing her wand from her overcoat.

“Alohomora,” she whispered, and the lock clicked before she turned the handle and opened the door. Padfoot was the first to enter the Shrieking Shack, the stench of dust and mould flooding their nostrils.

James glanced around, the faint light seeping in through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. He headed straight down the corridor, following Scar and Padfoot up to the first floor, where there was quite a spacious suite. Some remnants of the Marauders still lingered there: claw marks on the walls from Moony and Padfoot, a battered statue Prongs used to sharpen his antlers, and a Persian rug Wormtail used to gnaw on.

Scarlett waved her wand so that the bed, once completely destroyed and thick with dust, gradually rebuilt itself. The filthy mattress and sheets transformed from brown to white, clean as though freshly laundered.

Regulus looked up at the ceiling—remarkably intact. He ran a hand across a dusty grand piano with its lid open, his fingers brushing the keys just as he noticed Scarlett watching him.

“Do you remember when… I asked you to play that song—the one you used to play when you met Sirius?” he asked Scarlett, watching those light blue eyes harden. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

She didn’t reply. Not just because she couldn’t, with Padfoot standing right there, but because Regulus genuinely wanted to know if she remembered. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands felt clammy. Scarlett curled her lip in disgust.

Regulus shook his head, staring at the dusty upholstered bench, trying to push away the memory of Scarlett playing * The Great Gig in the Sky * on the piano at Grimmauld Place, her face streaked with tears, her belly swollen, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

He turned his face away, feeling Lily and James’s eyes on him. There was so much they didn’t know—and if Regulus had his way, they never would. He was a monster—but it was better that his friends never found that out. Just like Scarlett never had, not until it was far too late.

“I’m going to see Harry…” Lily sighed, taking James’s hand and leaving them there.

Scarlett found a few candles and lit them upstairs—in the bedroom, the hallway, and the bathroom. The place was in a dreadful state, but nothing a few spells couldn’t fix. She was surprised the toilet still flushed.

“Stop it, Regulus,” Scarlett whispered, clenching her jaw as she looked up at him.

“Stop what?” He traced Scarlett’s jaw with the knuckles of his fingers, passing straight through her, pretending he could touch her.

Scarlett hissed under her breath, the sound of Padfoot’s footsteps echoing in the room. She swallowed hard, bowing her head as she took a deep breath.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Scarlett pressed her lips together, as though trying to hold something back from deep within her chest.

Regulus smiled—a sly, bitter smile.

“It doesn’t matter… you know that, don’t you? Sirius is never going to forgive you. Reggie is mine.” Regulus placed both hands against the wall, either side of her, as if Scarlett couldn’t simply walk through him. “And to Sirius, you’ll always be the woman he loved—the one who had a child with the brother he’s always hated.”

Scarlett blinked, lifting her gaze to meet his, nostrils flared. She studied him with those sharp, tormented blue eyes. Regulus wet his lips, eyes locked with hers.

“You’re right…” Scarlett leaned her head back against the wall, holding his gaze. The candlelight cast flickering shadows across her pale skin. “But you’re dead, Regulus. And the only person I ever loved was Sirius. It was never you. My heart… was always his. Just like always, you tried to take something that belonged to your brother… and just like always, you failed.” She gave him a cutting smile.

Regulus leaned his face closer to Scarlett’s. She pressed her whole body against the wall, as if he could actually touch her, their noses nearly brushing, Red’s non-existent breath being inhaled by Scar.

“The truth doesn’t matter, Scarlett. To Sirius, you’ll always be the woman who betrayed him with his brother. You’ll always be mine.” He smiled as the ice in Scarlett’s eyes cracked. “He’ll never know the truth.”

“Sirius isn’t stupid. Sooner or later, he’ll figure it out…” Scarlett blinked, glancing towards the corridor, fearing Padfoot might be there, even though he clearly still lingered in the room. “Are you scared, Red?” She turned her gaze back to him, her eyes wild and heavy like a stormy sea.

“Why would I be scared!? I’m already dead.” Regulus let out a bitter laugh.

“Because if everything goes well, you’ll have a front-row seat to watch your brother be happy… and nothing you do will change that… not this time.” Scarlett drummed her fingers against the wood, amused by how Red’s expression shifted from composed to repulsed.

“I always wanted you to be happy.” Regulus swallowed hard, stepping back abruptly. “You came to me!”

“You could’ve let me go.” Scarlett didn’t bother hiding the remorse in her voice.

“Orfy would be dead.”

“But I’d be free. Me and Sirius…” She closed her eyes, as though trying to dream of a future that would never come to be. “We could’ve been happy.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Regulus said, unsmiling. There was regret in his face, as if the fairytale had turned out far more twisted than even he had believed. “You two would’ve destroyed each other.”

“Not with Reg…”

“You think a baby fixes a relationship, Scar?!” Regulus shook his head. “Sirius raising him on his own was the best thing that could’ve happened. It gave him the chance to grow up… and it gave you the same. Something that never would’ve happened if you’d stayed together. You were always dependent on each other, in this… compulsive, obsessive… sick kind of way.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Regulus,” she exhaled sharply.

“Oh, I know. I lived through your bloody drama for three whole years. I’ve known Sirius my entire life. And I know you better than I’d like.” Red tried to cup Scarlett’s face, only for his hand to pass right through her hollow cheek. “Scarius was always doomed to fall apart eventually. You just never saw it.”

“What do you want, Regulus?” Scarlett gasped, the candlelight crackling softly.

His response was a lazy smile as he adjusted the collar of his impeccably green frock coat.

“I’m going to see our son,” was all Regulus said before leaving her alone in that claustrophobic bathroom.

Scarlett dug her nails into her scalp, sliding down the cobweb-covered wall until she sat on the dusty floor. She used her wand to clean everything she could, her eyes lost in her own reflection in the porcelain sink. Regulus’s words hammered through the chambers of her mind. * You’ll always be the woman who betrayed him with his brother. *

She exhaled and pushed herself up, stepping into the bedroom still a little dizzy from the argument. Sirius had taken off his coat, his long-sleeved shirt and undershirt, scratching absently at his tattooed chest. Scarlett couldn’t make out the shapes of the designs clearly because he wouldn’t stay still, but she knew there were many.

“These bloody fleas are going to kill me…” he muttered, casting a protective charm on himself.

Scarlett couldn’t think of a reply. All she could focus on was the way the yellow candlelight danced across Sirius’s bare torso, glinting over his scars and emphasising his sharp bones. He glanced sideways at her, his face bathed in flickering light.

“Got anything for the itching in the bag?”

* My heart was always his* —her own voice echoed in her head. She needed to correct it: * her heart will always be his. * Scarlett gasped at the realisation, her pulse drumming in her ears.

“I think… I think so,” she faltered, opening the bag and pretending to search for what he’d asked, though all she could focus on was the resounding feeling numbing her senses and stirring soft memories deep in her mind. She pulled out a potion with dittany and handed it to him. “I can try to find something in Hogsmeade tomorrow…”

“Did you see how many of them there were?!” Sirius grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the potion, dabbing it across his skin. “Fuck, we need a plan.”

“We just need to get into the Gryffindor common room…” Scarlett shrugged, as though it were obvious.

“We can’t…” Sirius sighed, sitting on the bed. “What if he told the Ministry?”

“He?” Scarlett cleaned off an armchair and sat down, curling into herself.

“Remus. If he told them I’m an Animagus…” He wilted, pulling his clothes back on. “They’ll know.”

“I reckon if they knew… it’d be on the posters, wouldn’t it?” Scarlett crossed her arms, staring at the piano.

“I don’t know…” Sirius lowered his gaze, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. Then he jumped up on the bed, his eyes going wide as he immediately stared at the ceiling, lips trembling. “Dementor, Scarlett, Dementor…” He drew his wand, his hands trembling.

Scarlett looked up and around as well, but there was nothing. Sirius, however, was utterly convinced something was there, trying over and over again to cast his Patronus… all in vain. Scar stood and walked over to him, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Sirius sucked in a deep breath when she grabbed his wrist.

“They’re going to get me… I can’t be caught… I can’t go back to Azkaban…” Sirius stammered, panic darkening the grey of his irises, pumping desperation through his veins, making his pulse flutter.

Scarlett hissed softly, placing a finger to his lips. Sirius fell silent at once.

“Listen.” Scarlett stepped closer, tucking a handful of his black hair behind his ear. “It’s just the wind. That’s not a Dementor’s cold.” She rubbed both of Sirius’s hands with hers, the wind whispering faintly against the cracked glass panes of the house. “It’s just the wind.”

Sirius stared at her, his eyes brimming with tears, his whole body trembling. His breath was ragged, brushing against her chin. It was just the cold wind slipping through the gaps in the boards and the cracks in the walls of the Shrieking Shack.

“You need to sleep,” Scarlett went on, blowing warm air into Sirius’s hands. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch…”

Sirius let go of one hand, scratching at his collarbone, while the other traced her fingertips with his.

“We could sleep… I’ll turn into Padfoot and—”

“No… sleep like this. Padfoot’s crawling with fleas. You already got spotted by that Muggle because of them, and I don’t want it happening again… not now, not when we’re this close.” Scarlett nodded towards the bed.

Sirius accepted the decision silently, though there was a moment when their eyes met, and there was far more in his than he let on. He took off his shoes and sank into the bed with a soft, groaning sigh.

Silence. The candles flickered with the wind, and despite the stillness, Scarlett knew Sirius hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Scar…” he called after a few minutes.

Scarlett went to him, hugging herself against the cold. She raised her eyebrows, trying not to drown in the hypnotic silver of his eyes. Sirius brushed a strand of hair away from her face to get a better look at her.

“Could you…” He tensed his lips and pressed them together before continuing. “Stay here with me? I mean…” He scratched his beard, squinting slightly. “Padfoot and Whiskers have been curled up together these past nights… feels weird… sleeping alone…”

Scarlett might’ve laughed at him if she hadn’t been so shaken.

*The only person I ever loved was Sirius.*

She drew a deep breath, rubbing her cold, clammy fingers together.

“Of course.” She agreed, taking off her shoes and slipping under the blankets, sitting with her back against the headboard. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was so warm there that she silently thanked Sirius for the offer.

She ran her fingers through Sirius’s tangled hair, and he curled up in her lap, one hand resting on her thigh, his head settling on the other. He turned his face towards her abdomen, hiding it there like a child too shy to greet a stranger. They didn’t exchange a glance, not a single word.

Even so, Scarlett could feel the furious thud of Sirius’s heart pounding against her leg, matching the same chaotic rhythm as her own. She tilted her head back, staring at the wooden canopy of the bed. She hated it when hearts beat in resonance, when hers sped up every time he touched her, when skin brushed skin, when fingers clung to one another. She hated how permissive she was with Sirius—always had been. She always gave in to what he wanted.

She could have said no, could have made up an excuse, could have even let him sleep as Padfoot. But Scarlett was a traitor—more than that, she betrayed herself every time Sirius asked her for something. The answer was always yes. She’d said no to him far too many times before. She rubbed her temples in frustration, holding back tears as Sirius’s thumb stroked gently along her thigh.

Scarlett despised her own indulgence toward Sirius because she wanted him. Even knowing there was no future for them. No forgiveness. No spell strong enough to undo what she’d done to him.

She watched Sirius slowly sink into sleep, his warm breath fanning across her stomach, his thumb’s soft caress giving way to a full-hand twitch as his body began to relax.

Padfoot often woke startled, likely from some nightmare. Scarlett knew there was nothing that could truly keep them away. Still, she ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to chase them off, her touch soft and tender across the black locks she loved so deeply.

She closed her eyes slowly, guilt dancing freely in her heart like a thorned rose.

*We could’ve been happy.*

*No, you wouldn’t.*

Sirius tilted his head slightly upward, nestling half his face against her belly, the other half so calm it was hard to believe he was the most wanted man in the wizarding world.

Scarlett allowed herself a faint smile, gently brushing her finger across Sirius’s thick eyebrows. He barely stirred, sunk deep in sleep as though the woman who made him feel so safe wasn’t the same woman who’d also been the source of his unhappiness. The reason behind hundreds of nights he cried himself to sleep, behind the times he drank until he blacked out, behind how much he’d loathed raising a child that wasn’t even his.

It was suffocating to know just how much pain Scarlett had caused Sirius. Impossible not to cry. Impossible not to feel the weight of guilt. Regulus was right. Sirius would always hate her… and Scarlett would always love him. It was the natural order of things, like the sky being blue, the sun scorching, the moon bright.

With a sorrowful smile, Scarlett tried to find comfort in knowing Sirius would never forgive her.

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.

.

Harry Potter was sleeping peacefully in the Gryffindor dormitory. Without his glasses, he looked like any other sleeping boy in that school… if not for the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Or the perpetually messy hair. Or the wide jaw just like his father’s. The nose that resembled his mother’s.

Had he not been deep in sleep, he might have noticed the chill on his scar when the ghost of James Potter leaned over and kissed it. Or Lily’s arm wrapping around his waist as she settled behind him. James placed both hands on the chest of drawers, gazing down at his son and wife with pride, admiration, and a fierce sense of belonging blooming in his chest.

He had always loved seeing Lily sleeping with Harry in her arms, her red hair splayed across the white sheets. He had never imagined he’d witness that again—with a thirteen-year-old Harry.

“You’re perfect,” James whispered, the moonlight streaming through the window washing out his glow.

“Come on, lie down with us,” Lily smiled, patting the empty space on the other side of the bed.

James’s face lit up as he took off his glasses too, setting them next to Harry’s, and nestled into the bed as though his son could feel his presence there. Of course, he couldn’t—it was ridiculous—but James liked to believe he could. After all, dreaming never hurt anyone. He propped his elbow on the pillow and rested his head in his hand, staring at Harry and Lily with that daft grin growing ever wider.

“He looks so much like you…” Lily ran her fingers through Harry’s hair, ghosting over the unruly strands. “Even the hair…”

“But he’s got your eyes,” James winked at Lily, hugging Harry and intertwining his fingers with hers. “And your nose.”

“He’s practically your clone, James,” she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be daft,” James chuckled. “He’s a hundred percent Jily. I bet he’s just like you in class… clever and cheeky.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” She nuzzled her face into the crook of their son’s neck—though no scent reached her, she liked to imagine he smelled floral, just like her. “Tomorrow, we’re following him all day.”

James wetted his lips in agreement, lying down on the bed as well.

“Goodnight, love,” he murmured with a yawn, even though ghosts didn’t sleep.

“Goodnight, love. Goodnight, my son.” She kissed the nape of Harry’s neck.

“Goodnight, son,” James whispered, pretending to pinch his nose.

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.

.

Red never finished his final year at Hogwarts. He tried, of course, but between the missions the Dark Lord assigned him and the responsibility of protecting Scarlett, he simply ran out of time to study. Not that he needed it—he was an exemplary student, brilliant, one of the best in his year. And his role in Voldemort’s army would grant him far more advantages than Outstanding marks on his NEWTs.

And stepping away from Hogwarts meant stepping away from Pandora.

He never forgot the last time he saw her. Autumn had just arrived at Hogwarts, shaking yellowed leaves from the trees and carpeting the stone floor of the Clock Tower courtyard. Pan was seated on one of the stone benches, reading a spellbook, whispering softly the incantation she was practising. Regulus, meanwhile, leaned against the pillar behind her, watching her in profile. As if trying to etch her image into his memory, as if he didn’t want to forget her.

“You two really got married,” Pandora murmured, after a long silence.

Regulus pulled a cigarette from a metal case. After lighting it, he watched the smoke rise in front of his nose. The cold wind blew, lifting Pandora’s fair hair and brushing through Red’s dark strands.

“How is she?” She didn’t seem bothered by Regulus’s silence, though there was curiosity in her words.

“She’s fine.” Regulus took a long drag, resting his head against the cold stone. “She’s pregnant.”

Pandora looked at him at once, her brows rising in shock.

“What?” she whispered, her pale eyes filled with worry.

“Yeah… I’m going to be a father.” Red exhaled the smoke slowly, his voice lacking the enthusiasm one might expect.

“And are you ready to be a father?” Pandora’s voice turned hard, laced with judgement. Regulus gave a snort of contempt.

“I don’t think that’s something anyone’s really ready for.”

“Can I visit her?” Pandora ignored his reply.

Regulus swallowed thickly, staring up at the twilight sky.

“No… it’s not safe.” He spoke so quietly she barely heard him.

“So it’s true, then. You’re one of them.” Pandora snapped her book shut. “Is she with you of her own free will?”

“What kind of question is that, Malfoy?”

“Don’t lie to me, Regulus!” Pandora leaned on the backrest of the bench as she turned to face him. “Are you holding her hostage?”

Regulus blinked, feigning distraction as he released a puff of smoke.

“Of course not.”

“Why did you two get married… right after she left?! Very… convenient… I mean, now she’s pregnant…”

He didn’t like the implication in Pandora’s tone—not one bit.

“I did it to protect her—something Sirius never could,” he hissed, smacking the cigarette hard against the stone pillar until it went out. The thread of smoke curled between him and Pandora. “Pregnancies with women who bear the Signet are different. They progress faster than normal.”

Pandora remained still, those pale eyes of hers digging for the truth in him. But Regulus gave her nothing—not even a flicker of hesitation.

“Do you love her?” she asked at last, cutting through the silence after a long pause.

Regulus closed his eyes and nodded slowly, allowing himself a moment of honesty.

“She’s all I have,” he admitted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his Slytherin cloak. “All I’ve got left.”

Pandora furrowed her brow, lips parting as she drew breath. She looked genuinely surprised by his sincerity.

“You do realise it’s never going to be mutual, don’t you? She loves your brother. A marriage and a child won’t change that.”

Regulus barely noticed the way his jaw tightened, his fists clenching, trying to mask the fear beneath his expressionless exterior.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s my wife. The mother of my child.” He looked her dead in the eye, his tone dark. “What she feels, what Sirius feels… doesn’t matter.”

“Even after all these years, you still think the people you ‘love’ are yours to own, don’t you?” Pandora drew sarcastic air-quotes as she stood. “Why do you do this?”

Regulus felt his mouth go dry at the question. His gaze hardened.

“I’m just trying to protect her,” he said again, this time quieter. “I just…”

“No.” She twisted her lips in disgust. “You’re doing it for yourself, Regulus. Just like you always have.”

“That’s not true!” His control slipped for only a moment. Regulus cleared his throat, sighing through his nose. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I really hope she’s not suffering. That she’s not being held against her will…” Pandora stood and stepped calmly towards him, wand in hand. “Because… if I find out that Scarlett’s being kept by you and your rotten family… I’ll kill you.” She pressed the tip of her wand to Regulus’s throat, her bottom lip trembling. “I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

Regulus lifted his chin. He knew Pandora wouldn’t hurt him—not really—but the threat still stung. Because deep down, she might be right. He wrinkled his nose and exhaled with a scoff full of contempt. Tears streamed down Pandora’s delicate cheeks, and Regulus took a step back.

It was the last time they ever saw each other.

Now, he looked at the stone bench as if she were still there. Seeking comfort in the silence of the courtyard, in the heaps of yellowing leaves drifting with the wind, pinned to the ground by the cold. As if he could still finish that conversation with Pandora.

A shadow passed him, and Regulus glanced sideways over his shoulder. His heart leapt in his chest as a head of platinum-blonde hair flicked across his peripheral vision and disappeared into the castle. His shoulders stiffened. He blinked several times, as if trying to ensure it wasn’t some sort of mirage.

He barely realised he was following the girl’s path, quickening his pace as he passed through the door and saw her—bathed in the glow of the tall candelabras lighting the entrance of Hogwarts: wavy, platinum-blonde hair cascaded down her back in thick waves. An aquiline nose, different from the upturned one he remembered. The eyes, however, were nearly identical.

Regulus gasped, freezing as though struck by a *Petrificus Totalus*.

“Pandora…” he whispered, even though the girl in front of him wore a Ravenclaw uniform. She was shorter, with an adorable fringe, but her pale skin was just like Pan’s—porcelain-like, her features so delicate she looked like a doll.

“Miss Lovegood, may I ask what you’re doing here at this hour?!” Professor Sprout tapped her on the shoulder, sounding concerned.

“I’m looking for my shoes!” she pointed at her bare feet, following the professor up the stairs.

“Oh, dear, these children…” Sprout shook her head, the conversation trailing off into distant murmurs.

Regulus didn’t take his eyes off her, too stunned to move. He barely noticed another figure approaching—a knight with an arrow lodged in his forehead.

“Good evening, sir…” The knight lifted his visor, squinting slightly at Regulus.

Red took a moment to realise the ghost was addressing him, still staring, dazed.

“What?” he whispered, eyes wide as he looked at the figure before him.

“Have you, by chance, seen Duncan Ashe around?” The knight rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. “A lad about this tall, Slytherin student…” He held his hand beside his body for scale.

Regulus simply shook his head, prompting a bored huff from the ghost.

“Right, thank you…” The knight floated off down the corridor leading to the Grand Staircase.

It took several seconds for Red to process everything that had just happened. Xenophilius and Pandora had had a daughter and…

The ghosts of Hogwarts could see and hear him.

.

.

.

“Scarlett, please…”

The dagger had grown slick in her fingers. Scarlett staggered backwards, landing flat on her arse. She dropped the weapon. Jim Avery had become a corpse drenched in blood—and so had she. The crimson filth clung to her robes, arms and legs. It was as though he’d given her a lovely, warm hug. She let herself fall flat on the floor, staring up at the black, dismal ceiling as every limb trembled.

Scarlett jolted awake, heart in her throat. Still groggy, her legs gave out beneath her, stumbling through the room as her hands groped for the nearest wall, her head spinning, her senses scrambled. She made it to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet, her entire body shaking. She stared down at her hands—white as death. No blood. Just a nightmare. Just sweat.

She wiped the tears from her face, rubbing her eyes, her breathing ragged, cold air rushing into her lungs and snapping her senses back into place. Scarlett placed a hand on the porcelain sink and wept quietly, no sound leaving her mouth as she held her breath.

She turned on the tap and waited for the muddy water to run clear before plunging her face into the basin, washing the sweat from her skin with both hands. There was no mirror, but if there had been, she was certain she’d look a fucking mess.

She took several deep breaths before returning to the corridor, eyeing the stub of the extinguished candle, daylight now piercing through the slats in the boarded-up windows. She went back to the bedroom, finding Sirius hugging his knees, staring into nothing.

They might be free. They might be in Hogwarts. But they'd never be free of what Azkaban had done to them. Scarlett rubbed her arms, pulling on her overcoat and fastening it slowly. Sirius remained in that catatonic state for a good while.

“It’s Halloween today,” he whispered, licking his chapped lips. “The day they…”

His voice faded.

Sirius curled inwards, digging his nails into his trousers as old and new, forgotten and remembered, seething and scalding emotions fought for dominance. So chaotic he forgot how to breathe, coughing violently when his lungs could no longer bear the lack of oxygen, his mind scrambling to drive away the image of James collapsed in the rubble, that lifeless gaze, the glimpse of Lily’s feet in Harry’s nursery.

He swallowed it all down in one painful gulp, finally drawing breath. Then he lowered his legs from the bed and leaned his face into Scarlett’s neck as she approached and pulled him into a hug. Sirius didn’t want hugs. Didn’t want comfort or sweet words.

Sirius wanted revenge—and he would have it, one way or another.

“Sirius… is my Invisibility Cloak with Regulus?” Scarlett’s voice murmured against his ear. He didn’t even move, as something bitter scorched the back of his throat, making him clear it.

“Probably,” he grunted, gently pushing her away. “I’m going hunting.”

There weren’t many creatures left in the Forbidden Forest due to the presence of the Dementors, but it was daytime, and Sirius needed some air. He transformed into Padfoot and tore through the corridor of the Shrieking Shack, slipping through the hole beneath the Whomping Willow in a mad dash before the tree could land a hit.

Padfoot bounded between the roots, sunlight refracting off his dark fur, the wind tugging at it as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, the breath from his mouth turning into a fine mist. He circled the lake, trying to imagine Prongs running beside him, the sound of the stag’s hooves at his heels like old times, when they played tag in the forest. Little by little, the longing began to melt away in the sweet illusion that James was still there.

He spotted a massive stag on the other side of the clearing. The dog’s eyes widened, fur bristling as hundreds of memories surged through his mind. Padfoot barked, scaring the creature away, but the glimpse was enough. Enough to intoxicate him with the feeling that Prongs was there with him, even if it was a lie—he let himself be poisoned by the warm sensation of the world he used to know.

Panting and hungry, Padfoot began sniffing the ground for food, still pretending he wasn’t alone. Searching, in particular, for the scent of a rat.

A rat with a missing toe.

But all he found was a strange, squashed-faced cat with yellow eyes.

.

.

.

Whiskers slipped into Hogwarts Castle with great care. At that hour, the first students were beginning to wake, buzzing with excitement for Halloween. She skirted along the corridors beside groups of students heading for the Grand Staircase, ignoring the wave of nostalgia threatening to consume her. She sidestepped a few other cats along the way and waited for the stairs to align in front of her before climbing up alongside a group of Hufflepuff girls.

The conversations were always shallow—boys, how boring the teachers were, the never-ending homework. Whiskers leapt from one staircase to another, making her way down to the dungeons, where green-trimmed uniforms marked out the Slytherins. She wandered casually among the students, slipping through the common room entrance behind a large group as they exited, not needing to say the password.

Her heart pounding in her throat, Whiskers descended the stairs behind the mermaid statue, her gaze scanning the Slytherin common room hungrily. She didn’t have to look hard to find him: Regulus had just left the dormitories, his hair still tousled as if he’d only just woken up.

“Reggie!” a dark-skinned girl with black hair called, stretched out across the sofa. “We going to Hogsmeade?”

Whiskers didn’t take her eyes off him, as though the black-haired, grey-blue-eyed boy was the only thing in the world she could see. He was so grown. Regulus was taller than her now, slender, with the aristocratic Black nose—though it was freckled over.

“No… can’t. My uncle forbade me.” He didn’t look the least bit pleased.

She needed to focus on stealing the Invisibility Cloak, but… how was she supposed to do that with her son standing right there in front of her? It was the second time Scarlett had laid eyes on him, though it felt like the first. They were so much closer now—close enough for her to notice the light-grey flecks in his eyes, the way he flexed his jaw, that smile full of dimples.

Just like his father.

Her heart was beating so loudly she feared someone might hear it.

“He’s so big…” The voice made Whiskers bristle all over, catching sight of Red a little way behind, watching Reggie with a soft smile. “He’s the same age you were when I met you…”

“What? Why?” asked another girl, this one with white hair.

“Because of Sirius,” he said quietly.

Whiskers felt a sting of jealousy at the way he said Sirius’s name—with a kind of tenderness and affection she hadn’t expected him to have… but it made sense. It had been Sirius who raised him, after all. Scarlett had been imprisoned. The cat lowered her gaze to the polished shoes walking past her.

“It’s fine, I’ll stay here. You lot go ahead…”

The cat darted toward the boys’ dormitory, following the pleasant scent of Regulus to his room. Her son wore a cologne very similar to Sirius’s—sweet and fresh. She couldn’t quite name it, and the familiarity was another knife to the heart. Red watched her silently from the doorway, the iron in his eyes rusted.

Once certain they were alone, Scarlett carefully opened the trunk bearing her son’s initials: R.S.B. Her fingers brushed over the letters as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of her lids pull and sharpen a memory.

She remembered the pain, the sweat that plastered her hair to her face, the metallic scent. Blood. She was covered in blood from the waist down, and Sirius’s hand had been the only solid thing she could cling to. Her vision was too blurred to focus on anything, the diffused lights blinding her completely.

Scarlett had been in pain for so long it had become familiar—so familiar that when it stopped, it felt wrong. And then came the cry, slicing through the muffled voices that rippled around her.

“He’s coming,” Red pulled her out of her trance. Instinctively, she stepped back and hid behind the canopy of the neighbouring bed, listening to her son’s footsteps on the greenish carpet that covered the floor.

Reggie threw himself onto the bed, exhaling sharply, kicking off his shoes in an irritated motion. He fell asleep just like that, his breathing growing heavier as he sank into Morpheus’s arms.

With a flick of her wand, Scarlett conjured a shimmering dust that glowed gently around her son, wrapping him in a dense sleep. She couldn’t risk him waking up, even if all she wanted in the world was to hold him. She stepped forward on silent feet, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, listening to the soft creak of the mattress.

From the doorway, Red smiled. The kind of smile he always fought against.

She dared to touch her son’s face—his pale, velvet-soft skin. Reggie’s nostrils flared in a brief spasm, and Scarlett quickly lifted her hand, letting it hover in the air, waiting for him to settle before reaching out again. She leaned down, nuzzling into his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with his hair and robes.

Scarlett twirled a finger in a lock of black hair, just as soft as his father’s. She buried her nose in the short strands, pressing a kiss to the crown of Reggie’s head. Then she pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it carefully over him. With a heavy heart and reluctant hands, she stepped back, blinking hard to force away the tears threatening to spill.

She knelt once more at her son’s trunk, opening it delicately, searching through the clutter for the Invisibility Cloak. Naturally, he would’ve hidden it somewhere secure—and given what the cloak was, it had to be in a very specific place, somewhere he’d never lose it.

She found it tucked beside his meticulously folded socks. She smiled, pulling it over her shoulders as she looked at him one last time. Still unable to believe that this boy— this boy —was the child who had driven her to make every mistake that ruined her life. Her chest tightened at the thought of Marl, her forearm burning with the memory of that name.

She paused in the doorway, unable to tear her eyes from Reggie, as if afraid she might never see him again once she stepped outside. Regulus, beside her, was staring too; his smile had turned sorrowful.

He was the first to step away, glancing at Scarlett over his shoulder.

“Scar… let’s go,” Red said softly, nodding for her to follow.

Scarlett left the room—though every part of her ached to stay.

.

.

.

The corridors of Hogwarts were darker than she remembered. A place that had once been her home—where she’d grown close to her friends and deepened her love, where she had lived through some of the lowest points of her life—and the highest, too.

She hardly noticed her feet carrying her towards the Undercroft. She opened it with her wand in a mechanical motion, the ticking of the clock inside quickening the rhythm of her heart. Still dazed from seeing Regulus, Scarlett descended the stairs into the space that had remained unchanged since they left in that ill-fated year: 1978.

The year everything went wrong.

She didn’t recall the events exactly, but even the act of imagining was enough to send shivers down her spine. She ran her fingers along the dusty walls, stopping in front of the door to her and Sirius’s room, now corroded with time.

There was no need to light her wand; the daylight filtering through the ceiling grates, paired with Red’s soft glow, was enough to see by. She spotted the fallen photographs on the sideboard, a wistful smile touching her lips when her eyes landed on the inscription carved into the wall—done by her and Sirius what felt like a lifetime ago.

She could almost hear Lily’s laughter, James’s jokes, Peter’s whining, Remus’s tutting… Sirius’s affectionate words. She looked toward the clock across the room… her old pocket watch glinting in the scattered light. It had been left there long after the others, as it had barely a trace of dust.

She picked it up and stared at the image of Sirius sticking his tongue out at her. Tears, thick with nostalgia, welled in Scarlett’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. She closed the watch, her gaze sweeping across the room, getting lost in a time when that space had been alive—when her friends were still breathing, when the war hadn’t torn everything apart.

The world Scarlett and Sirius had known no longer existed. It had been blown away, scattered like autumn leaves in the wind, melted like winter snow beneath the sun. Buffeted like dandelions in summer, drowned by spring’s rain.

The future Scarlett had once dreamed of had been ripped away and shattered into a hundred fragments. What if she’d never left? Was Regulus right—would she and Sirius have fallen apart anyway? Or might they have made it work? Would Reg and Harry have had their families?

Scarlett wiped the tears from her face, her expression void of emotion. She and Sirius had made their choices, and nothing could change the last fifteen years. No matter how much she longed to…

She clutched the pocket watch tightly in her hand and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over herself once more.

Life was giving her a second chance.

She would not waste it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter Text

LXXXI

It was painful trying to grasp the memories swimming in his mind, like fish of varying shapes and colours. Some were missing fins, others their flippers, phalanges, eyes, gills. Sirius watched them, paralysed and afraid. His fingers didn’t dare touch the sacred water of all that remained: memories of days that would never return, tainted and crumbling from the deaths of James and Lily, the lash marks on Regulus, Scarlett abandoning and betraying him, the fire.

There were one or two untouched by the Dementors. Sirius, however, wasn’t brave enough to reach for them. He knew that if he did, he’d feel hope. And hope was the last thing he could allow himself to feel at that moment. He was certain that sooner or later, it would vanish, and no illusion could dull the harsh truth: Sirius Black was doomed to lose everyone he loved.

So, he preferred to watch the fish swimming in circles from a safe distance, without disturbing them. He curled up at the foot of the bed, his gaze drifting across the room in the Shrieking Shack: the cracked mantlepiece, the worn-down piano, the rug moth-eaten to tatters. He heard Scarlett’s footsteps downstairs, but didn’t so much as flinch.

He knew her well enough to recognise the pressure of her tiny feet against the floor, the rhythm of her steps, the way she would touch down with her heel first before the rest of her foot. The way she came up stairs was a bit chaotic—it always had been, ever since she lived in Godric’s Hollow.

He barely looked at her when she entered the room, her face tight with that expression she always wore when she was anxious. Sirius could feel Scarlett’s restlessness from right where he was.

"I got the cloak." She let the invisibility fabric float in front of Sirius’s face, as if that would get his attention. "And I nicked this..."

Sirius stared at the cinnamon roll she placed on his bent knee, eating another in silence. The icing sugar dusted across his black trousers. He picked it up, feeling the softness of the dough against his fingertips, the smell of cinnamon flooding his nose and echoing in his ears with a voice he knew well, but couldn’t quite place.

He closed his eyes.

James Potter smelled of cinnamon. His heart collapsed at the realisation, his hand crushing the pastry with all the strength he had, ruining it. One of the fish glanced back at him, and Sirius saw James with Harry in his arms, humming a tune. His hair was messy, his glasses nearly slipping off his face. James adjusted them with his pinky, a tic he’d had since he started wearing glasses in third year at Hogwarts.

Now, Sirius remembered that. James turned his face slightly towards him, a tired smile tugging at his thin lips.

"All right, Padfoot?" he asked, until his face wavered several times, dissolving into the sight of the ruined pastry in the palm of his hand. The scent of cinnamon made him dizzy.

"Sirius? Are you all right?" Scarlett was staring at him, worried. Sirius’s gaze was drawn to hers, his whole body shivering at her presence.

He still wasn’t used to Scarlett being there, by his side, after so many years apart. The memories she starred in leapt out of his fish tank, trying to claim space in Sirius’s mind, but he didn’t allow it. He and Scarlett always brought out the worst in each other. They became fire and storm, inferno and hurricane at the snap of a finger. And fear overtook him, bubbling through his veins like the air filling his lungs. James had always been braver than Sirius, the perfect Gryffindor. He was never afraid to love or be loved—things Sirius had always feared.

Perhaps it was his defence mechanism. Sirius couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. He’d lost too much already. Suffered too much. He flung the dough onto the rug, slapping his hand against his trousers, the longing flooding his chest. James and Lily were dead. In Azkaban, it had been easy to cope, because he was far from everything and everyone...

But now, back at Hogwarts, a place teeming with echoes of the past… it was so hard Sirius could barely remember to breathe.

"Let’s just get this over with," Sirius muttered, his gaze catching on a glint in his peripheral vision. A shard of glass. He reached for it, the sharp edges slicing into his skin. He shoved it into his pocket before getting up, healing the cuts with a non-verbal spell.

"We need to wait for the party..." She pulled a watch from her pocket. Golden, with a chain fastened to her trouser waistband. Something chimed in the back of Sirius’s mind, but he didn’t pay it much attention. "It’ll start in an hour."

Sirius simply returned to watching his memories swimming in his imaginary tank.

"I saw him… Reg." Scarlett went on, sitting down in the armchair. The words, however, seemed to slip from her. Her gaze returned to Sirius. "He..."

Her lips trembled. Sirius blinked slowly, Reggie’s joyful laugh echoing at the back of his neck. He still couldn’t believe the child he’d once cared for so dearly was already a fifteen-year-old boy. And Harry...

Sirius clenched his fists, tightening his jaw. Harry was an orphan because of him. He wanted to cry, though not a single tear stung his eyes. The mission was simple, painfully simple: enter Gryffindor’s common room and rip Peter’s life away with the same fury that James and Lily’s had been stolen.

He wouldn’t mind using the Killing Curse for that, though, at first, his deepest desire was to make Peter suffer. He’d used the Unforgivables before, and in the state of mind he was in… it would be far too easy.

"He reminds me of you," Scarlett added, the pain locked inside her threatening to overwhelm her.

Sirius gave a short sniff of a laugh, though his lips didn’t twitch. Of course Reggie looked like him—he was his brother’s son, after all. And he and Regulus had more in common than Sirius cared to admit.

"Sirius..." Scarlett called his name. He looked at her again. "Are you all right?"

It was bloody hard not to yell at her. That was the second time she’d asked him that, and Sirius desperately wanted to ignore her. Physically, he felt fine—aside from the bloody annoying flea bites, his colour was coming back, and he didn’t look half as wrecked anymore. Emotionally, though, he was in pieces.

"If you could go back in time... what would you have done differently?" he asked in return.

Scarlett raised her eyebrows, frowning. She ran her thumb along her sugar-coated lips, licking it as she thought.

"Everything." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Nothing." She seemed just as tortured by remorse as he was. "We... we can’t go back, Sirius. We’ve got to live with the choices we made."

That was what terrified him most: having to live with the mistakes he’d made. Trusting Peter Pettigrew. Being the cause of his best friends’ deaths, of his brother’s death, of Scarlett’s imprisonment, of Remus pulling away. He regretted every second of his past, and if he could, he’d have done everything differently. He’d have stopped Scarlett from leaving, talked to Remus, been the Secret Keeper himself. Bloody hell, he’d have died gladly for Voldemort if it meant James, Lily and Harry would’ve been safe.

If only Sirius had known his life would turn into this bloody tragedy...

It was as if the stars that once mapped his destiny had gone out, one by one, leaving only dense, vast emptiness. The void. The darkness. The ache, the longing, the gnawing sense that something was fundamentally wrong. In the end, his father had been right. He was a mistake, an aberration, unfit to belong among the pure-bloods or among his friends. A little creature who didn’t belong anywhere—except, perhaps, in the heart of a criminal.

When the time came, Sirius transformed into Padfoot. He and Whiskers made their way through the Forbidden Forest, entering a half-collapsed cave. He vaguely remembered the place, from the night he and Prongs stopped Moony from going after Whiskers and Mittens. They didn’t trust the castle’s secret passages—not when they couldn’t risk getting caught.

Scarlett lit the darkness with her wand, and Padfoot followed her through the rocks until they reached a staircase that led upwards. He was quite out of breath by the time they reached the top of the steps.

"The Map Chamber," Scarlett announced.

They were in a rotunda, illuminated by a graceful glow that seemed to emanate from the very air. The floor was covered by a vast, gleaming map of much of Scotland, blue lines weaving together to form the outline of Hogwarts Castle and the lands surrounding it. On the walls, enormous frames held empty portraits.

Sirius knew this place. He’d been there with Regulus, Scarlett, and James... on a day that felt like ages ago. His body shivered sharply with the memory of his injured brother, James looking worried, Scarlett in a panic. The day Dimitri and Sasha were with Remus.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He followed Scarlett up a spiral staircase, bluish lights glowing from the vaulted ceiling. Another flight of stairs made Sirius realise they were in one of Hogwarts’ towers, though he wasn’t sure which.

Scarlett handed him the invisibility cloak.

"I’m going ahead to see if anyone’s there, and I’ll wag my tail if the coast’s clear. We’ll go into Gryffindor’s common room together, but if I need to throw someone off, the password is Fortuna Major," Scarlett whispered to him.

"Fortuna Major," Sirius repeated, trying to burn it into his memory. "Fortuna Major, Fortuna Major, Fortuna Major..." He watched Scar transform into Whiskers and head down the corridor, signalling him to follow.

The route to the Grand Staircase went just like that. Hidden under the invisibility cloak, Sirius watched the staircases shift direction from time to time, waiting for Whiskers to give him the all-clear. She seemed slightly preoccupied with someone approaching from the main corridor, delaying her signal for Sirius to move forward.

It wasn’t strange to see a cat like her around—Hogwarts was full of them. Some belonged to students, others were strays. Except for Mrs Norris. She was a bloody menace, and as if summoned by his very thoughts, Filch’s snitch of a cat seemed to catch a scent in the corridor just behind, prompting Whiskers to dart toward her as if to distract her.

It was the chance Sirius needed to clumsily clamber onto the moving staircase, his body jolting as he mechanically leapt over the trick step. Laughter echoed from one of the floors below, sending a cascade of shivers down Sirius’s spine, as though he were that fifteen-year-old boy again, walking beside his friends on the way to their common room.

His body moved on its own. Sirius jumped from one staircase to another, his hand touching the cold railing like he used to when he was flanked by James, Peter, and Remus. The other clutched the invisibility cloak tightly.

Gryffindor Tower sat high above, so by the time he reached the top floor, his hands were trembling violently, slick with sweat as his body wavered with each step. It was impossible not to think about what he would do to Wormtail in that moment—his fingers brushing the shard of glass in his pocket, his dark gaze sweeping the lonely, silent corridor, the flames of the candelabras howling above him.

He let the invisibility cloak slip from his shoulders and fall away, the hood of the jacket beneath his overcoat enough to shadow his face. The nearby portraits seemed far too absorbed in themselves to notice him.

No one seemed to believe Sirius could breach Hogwarts, not with the Dementors guarding it. He exhaled at the realisation that they were all wrong—and he would, in a rather poetic fashion, kill Peter Pettigrew on the same night James and Lily had been murdered.

The Fat Lady stared at him, just as she had fifteen years ago. Sirius felt his head spin, like something was missing. He looked around, hoping for the ghostly traces of his friends to be there: James’s cheeky quips, Remus’s silent glances, Peter’s ridiculous remarks. Marlene’s harmonious laughter. The way Lily would roll her eyes. Mary offering a shy smile. Scarlett earning glares from her housemates.

A knot formed in his throat, his eyes blurring on the pink, flamboyant dress of the portrait’s figure. His fingers clenched around the shard of glass in his pocket. Ghosts of the past scrambled through his mind, echoing in his memory tank, disturbing his fish. The words slipped from his head before he could even speak them.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, arms crossed and face unimpressed.

Sirius swallowed hard. He looked over his shoulder, searching for Scarlett, but all he saw was the reflection of the orange flames licking the polished stone floor.

"For… For..." he stammered, eyes widening as his whole body tensed. There’d been a day when he and James had forgotten the password to get into the common room, back in their first year at Hogwarts.

The two of them had laughed so hard, racing down to the kitchens to steal food from the house-elves and taking the chance to roam the corridors the prefects didn’t patrol, getting to know even more of the place that would become their home far more than their actual homes ever had.

The happiness of the memory nearly shattered his murderous impulse. Sirius gasped, placing a hand over his chest, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought back tears.

"You're not getting in without the password..." the woman said, inspecting her nails with utter boredom.

Sirius clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ground together. Tension rippled through his shoulders, his heart leaping to his throat. James's laughter tangled with the memory of straddling Nancy, turning the key, the motorbike’s rumble in his legs, soaring through the sky toward Wormtail’s hideout.

The breathless dread he’d felt upon realising Peter wasn’t there—no struggle, no sign of a fight.

"Let me in," Sirius mumbled, locking eyes with her again.

"Only with the password..." She barely acknowledged him.

Sirius growled, like he was still in Padfoot’s skin.

"LET ME IN!" he bellowed, his voice crashing against the stone walls. In, in, in. He was so close he could taste Peter’s fear in the back of his throat.

The Fat Lady arched an eyebrow, leaning in as if trying to get a better look.

"Who are you?" she asked, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder.

"LET ME IN, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Sirius roared, throwing his head back, letting the hood slip from his shoulders as he drew the shard of glass from his pocket. "NOW!"

Her expression changed in an instant—from curious to sheer, unfiltered terror.

"Merlin’s beard... Sirius Black..."

His fish tank cracked. Sirius could no longer feel the air entering his lungs; the only thing flooding and fuelling his body now was pure, volatile rage.

"LET ME IN, YOU FILTHY WHORE, OR I’LL TEAR YOU TO FUCKING SHREDS!" Sirius thrust the shard forward, gripping it so tightly it tore into his hand. "I don’t have time for this..." he muttered, voice breaking.

"You're Sirius Black!" the Fat Lady cried, pressing a hand to her mouth.

"LET ME IN!" Sirius howled with every ounce of breath left in him, slashing at the portrait in wild, uncoordinated swings, his chest burning, his eyes blind with tears. "Let me in... fuck... I need to... I need to..."

A psychotic laugh jolted Sirius out of his trance. Peeves was hovering nearby, thoroughly entertained by the Fat Lady fleeing from portrait to portrait in full-blown panic. It snapped Sirius back to reality—he saw what he’d done. He couldn’t be caught. Not now.

His legs moved of their own accord, and he bolted down the corridor, yanking the hood over his head as the portraits began whispering furiously to one another.

He barely remembered where he’d left the cloak. A hand yanked him into the stairway as it shifted from the Grand Staircase, and he instinctively pressed the glass to Scarlett’s neck, his eyes bulging in alarm. He hadn’t even realised he was still holding it—leaving a trail of blood behind him wherever he went.

"What are you doing?!" Scarlett sounded just as terrified as he was.

"The cloak... the cloak... the cloak..." Sirius stammered. "I... left it... behind..."

Scarlett darted back up the stairs, and Sirius stared at the blood dripping from his hand, the shard embedded in his palm, his pale reflection dancing in the dirty glass. He was so fucking pathetic. He wasn’t even good enough to avenge his friends... but he couldn’t get caught. And yet, he was so bloody close...

He heard Scarlett coming back, clumsily wiping up his blood from the floor, covering him with the cloak. On shaky legs, Sirius let her pull him back along the path they’d used to get in, the lights of the Map Chamber gleaming on his gaunt, ashen face, fading as he surrendered to a suffocating sob.

"Let me see..." She reached for him, but Sirius slapped her hand away.

"Leave me alone!" he snapped, stumbling back. "Just leave me the fuck alone..."

"Sirius..."

He didn’t listen to Scarlett. Not when his memory tank was threatening to drown him, the fish staring back with those grotesque, lifeless, bulging eyes—eyes that knew every wretched thing he’d done. He shifted into Padfoot, limping as he descended the spiral staircase, whimpering softly as he passed through the darkened cave, finally finding the light of the exit after running like a headless rat through the confusing corridors.

Even with his injured paw, Padfoot bolted back to the Shrieking Shack, breath ragged, the violent branches of the Whomping Willow crashing to the ground in thunderous warning. Padfoot was a large dog, an easy target. Still, he kept running like a blind, stupid bull chasing a red rag.

He felt the sting along his back as one of the branches whipped over him in a formless blur, the tree hauling the rest of its limbs up to crush him. That would be the end, then—Sirius Black, escaped from Azkaban, crushed to death by the Whomping Willow.

By sheer luck—or maybe pure misfortune—he wouldn’t die on the same day as James and Lily. The tree stilled, its branches shedding fragile, orange leaves onto Padfoot’s fur. Whiskers, panting, had pressed the knot in the roots.

Padfoot barely seemed to care, continuing down the tunnel. The pain ripping through his heart was far worse than the gashes on his back, which were bleeding freely. In the bedroom on the second floor, the dog turned in circles on the mouldy, tattered rug and collapsed, whimpering quietly.

The disordered sound of Scarlett’s footsteps climbing the stairs made his ears twitch.

"Sirius!" She sounded properly worried. If he were in his right mind, he might’ve laughed. "Why did you do that? Why did you go alone?"

He wanted to stay silent, but it was stronger than him. Sirius growled from the sharp pain searing through his back, lifting a blazing glare toward Scarlett.

"You... you said..."

"Have you gone completely mental?" she cut him off. "If you keep doing shit like this, you're going to get yourself killed!"

Sirius let out a bitter smile.

"It’s not... like anyone would give a fuck, anyway," he muttered through the pain. James and Lily were dead. Sirius was such a useless fuck he couldn’t even catch a rat.

Scarlett slowly sat beside him, as if trying to show she meant no harm. She reached out, gently touching his beard. Sirius gasped, her thumb catching his tears, the rage slowly, gradually dissolving in the presence of the woman who awakened all his demons.

"I’d care," she said.

And it was enough for Sirius’s bloodied hand to release the shard of glass and close around that pale, slender neck. Scarlett’s eyes widened. Sirius used his body weight to overpower her, rolling on top of her, his other hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Liar," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Fucking liar..."

Scarlett was crying too. Sirius wiped her tears with his wounded fingers. In a sudden, raw burst of clarity, he threw himself to the side, hands trembling, eyes losing focus on the cobwebbed ceiling. So many things were crashing around in his chest that he felt completely detached from reality, the little fish he often watched now splashing him, slapping him with their fins, biting at his fingertips.

It was too much. It was Halloween, and it was too much. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to imagine, didn’t even want to remember. The glimpse of James lying on the floor that cursed night was enough to make him shift into Padfoot again, the pressure in his chest muffled slightly by the dog’s ignorance of human complexity. It wasn’t enough to relieve it fully, but at least he could breathe without feeling like his skull might explode…

Scarlett was hyperventilating, watching him with hesitation. She pulled her wand from her pocket, her trembling hand reaching for his injured paw.

"Let me..."

Padfoot growled, snapping at the air. So close to biting her delicate fingers. Reflexively, Scarlett flinched. He whimpered when the cold wind stung the open wounds on his back.

"Padfoot... you’re badly hurt..."

He merely turned his head to the side, frustration flooding every pore of his body. It felt like the moment he’d been thrown into Azkaban all over again—his mind crushed under the unbearable weight of loss. James’s lifeless eyes staring blankly, his glasses askew, his pupils empty. Harry’s wailing outside, the cold breeze of that sinister autumn night cutting through the silence.

Sirius licked his lips, the smell of his own blood thick in his nostrils. His heart was pounding so hard it threatened to crack his ribs, blood thundering in his ears. The cold had seeped into his bones. Tears soaked his cheeks.

If James were here… he’d know what to do. Not always, to be fair. But at least Sirius would have his friend’s lap to rest in, his tight embrace, his wise words.

His entire back was raw and flayed from the Whomping Willow’s branches, and still the deepest pain lay in his chest. The longing. The crushing realisation that the world made no sense without his best mate in it. He covered his eyes with his hands, smearing blood across his face, the metallic scent making him grimace.

Sirius didn’t know how long he cried, curled on that mouldy rug, trying to hide from the memories that swept through him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. The knowledge that there was nothing— nothing —he could do to bring James back. To relive the days when they’d just been carefree boys.

Before the war. Before… the prophecy.

He didn’t move when he heard Scarlett murmuring a healing spell over his back. The burning eased slowly. It wasn’t enough to quiet the pain gnawing at his chest, nor the cruel truth that James and Lily weren’t there because of him.

How cruel it was to live in a world without James! Without his jokes, his knowing glances, his habit of pushing his glasses up his nose with his pinky finger.

He felt his hair being gently brushed away from his face. Scarlett took his wrist with such tenderness he barely noticed she was healing the wound in his palm. Sirius glanced sideways at her—at that thin, Azkaban-twisted face, at those eyes that sent both shivers and butterflies through his gut.

Sirius Black was cursed. So selfish, cruel and broken that he couldn’t carry that curse alone. So he cursed Scarlett with his love, binding her in comfortable chains, in sweet promises, in obscene touches. He became everything she ever wanted… but a shackle is still a shackle. Sirius had chained Scarlett to him forever.

"It’s my fault, Scarlett… they died because of me..."

Scarlett wrapped her arms around him tightly, stealing all his thoughts and words. Sirius simply closed his eyes, sinking into the woman with the name of a colour, as if she might hold the answers to his questions. He knew she didn’t—Scarlett was more like the temptation hanging from the top of the apple tree. Beautiful on the outside, rotten to the core. Just like him.

Even so, Sirius allowed himself to be held by her once more, pressing his face to Scarlett’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, her heavy breathing, her fingers threading through his tangled hair. Letting himself drown in the non-existent scent of vanilla, letting the little golden fish swim around him, intoxicating him with a sensation that had neither form nor sound, but somehow dulled the edges of his suffering, bit by bit.

"It wasn’t your fault..." Scarlett murmured into his hair. "It never was, my love. Never was..."

My love.

Sirius almost laughed at the delusion in his own head. That Scarlett wasn’t real—none of it was. He was certain now that everything was just a trick of the mind, that he was still rotting in Azkaban. Maybe it was the effect of the Dementors’ Kiss.

Yes, exactly that. He was already dead. That’s why he felt so fucking miserable. He was just a ghost drifting through his own illusion. He was just...

He rested his face on Scarlett’s shoulder, burying his nose in the curve of her neck, her brown hair brushing against his cheeks. His other arm came up to wrap around her shoulders, letting the full weight of his body lean into hers. The truth was, Sirius was exhausted, and all he needed—desperately—was a place to rest.

"I didn’t... I couldn’t..." he whispered, eyes closing.

"It’s all right. We’ll have other chances..."

"He looks so much like him..." Sirius’s jaw tightened. "Harry. He looks so bloody much like James."

"He does," Scarlett replied, her voice so soft Sirius barely noticed she was crying too. "Sirius... they need us. Harry... Reg..."

Scarlett's voice grew more distant, dissonant, as Sirius sank deeper into the water with his little fish, letting his limbs relax and the weight of his body be carried by a foamy tide. Feeling, for some unfathomable reason... safe.

Sirius fell asleep.

And for the first time since he’d escaped Azkaban, he didn’t have nightmares.

.

.

.

Sirius was at Hogwarts.

It was all Regulus could think about.

He paced in circles across the common room, trying to imagine how Sirius had got in. Or when. Or where. Or…

Maybe Uncle Lupin had taken his cloak and not told him. No, that didn’t make sense—if he’d entered the Slytherin common room, Regulus would’ve known... or Snape would have... or maybe...

Regulus rubbed his eyes hard, ignoring the odd looks from the first and second years. It wasn’t long before the Hogsmeade trip ended, and more and more Slytherins returned to the common room—only making him more agitated.

He hated crowded spaces.

He didn’t have much of a choice when his friends practically dragged him to the Halloween party in the Great Hall. Regulus was so tormented he barely noticed Victoria’s suggestive smiles, or the stomach-ache potion Luana had bought to slip to the Weasley twins, or the dirty looks Victor was throwing around. No.

All Reg could do was glance around restlessly, like he was searching for someone, his brain burning trying to figure out how Sirius had entered the castle without being seen.

Unless…

He was in disguise. Regulus narrowed his eyes at his Quidditch mates, trying to spot anything off. Pucey spilled a bit of pumpkin juice down his cloak, Terry let out a very suspicious sneeze when the Bloody Baron passed them, and Miles didn’t laugh when Nearly Headless Nick reenacted (for the fiftieth time) his failed beheading.

Regulus bit the inside of his cheek, glancing across the hall, not even realising he was staring directly at Harry. The boy gave him a shy smile and waved. Frowning slightly, Reg waved back, the calm in his chest twisting into a sharp point that pierced straight through his heart.

What if Sirius really was after Harry?

No... he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t...

Sirius was a convicted murderer. Because of him, Harry’s parents were dead. A wave of suffocating guilt rose in his chest, and Regulus coughed, like he could force it out. Harry’s friends were staring too, and Luna gave him a solid thump on the back, thinking he was choking.

"You all right?" Victoria looked at him with a hint of worry.

"Fine..." Regulus avoided her gaze by pretending to sip his juice.

The party ended with a spectacle put on by the Hogwarts ghosts—one Regulus didn’t pay the slightest attention to. His head was pounding by then, and everyone began shuffling back to their common rooms, the anxiety hardening into fear.

Sirius wouldn’t kill Harry.

Would he?

Maybe Remus was right, and he wasn’t the man Reg thought he was.

"Reggie, can we talk?" Victoria gently tugged at the sleeve of his cloak, her cheeks slightly flushed.

Bloody hell, they hadn’t even talked about the kiss at the Boathouse yet. His eyes instinctively scanned the crowd of Slytherins for Luke Avery, but he was nowhere to be seen. Regulus opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Can we... talk later?!" He ran a hand through his hair, flashing a nervous smile.

"What’s going on?" she asked, arms folded in that insistent way Regulus hated.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, trying to edge away from her, but she cornered him near the fireplace.

"What happened? Did Avery say something to you?" She raised an eyebrow, just as Snape’s voice called out from the background, ordering everyone off to bed.

"No." Regulus scoffed, like what she’d said was ridiculous. "It’s nothing..."

"Seriously, you don’t want to talk about what happened?!" she said, hands on her hips, clearly restless. "I know I messed up, and I wanted to say sorry for—"

"Look, Mimi, can we talk about this later?" Regulus glanced towards the entrance to the common room, where Aphelandra Pyke had just walked in. "I’ve... I’ve got too much on my mind right now..."

Victoria’s glare flicked between Regulus and Aphelandra, her lips slowly parting. She blinked several times, stunned.

"You don’t have to say anything, Regulus. I get it," she whispered, shoving him out of her way with a sharp, aggressive push.

"You get it?!" Regulus stared at her, confused. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Victoria didn’t bother answering. She marched off toward the girls’ dormitory.

"Vic..." Regulus started to call after her, but was cut off by Snape.

"All students, back to the Great Hall. Move, now!" he barked, with the help of Gemma and Achilles, who were entering the dormitories to gather the Slytherins. "Rookwood, Avery, Pyke, Black. Make sure everyone heads to the Great Hall."

Regulus didn’t understand at first. But when he saw Gemma waving along a group of first-years still in their pyjamas, ushering them out of the common room, it clicked.

His heart began to hammer wildly. This could only mean one thing: they knew Sirius was in the castle. He fought the impulse to bolt down the corridors looking for him, patting a group of third-years on the shoulder as he ushered them along, weaving through the crowd until he caught up with Snape.

"Professor... what’s going on?!" Regulus didn’t bother hiding the tension in his voice.

Snape narrowed his eyes, pushing his greasy hair behind his ear.

"Just do as you’ve been told, Black," he said, remaining firmly in place. "Or is there something you know that I don’t?"

A small laugh escaped Regulus.

"Excuse me?" His expression hardened instantly.

"You weren’t made a prefect to question me, Black. Do as I said, understood?" Snape raised his eyebrows with a patronising smirk.

Regulus was the top student in his year, but he still didn’t understand why he’d been made a prefect. Snape seemed to like him only because his parents had been Death Eaters, but the favouritism ended there. There was always a guarded wariness in the professor’s posture that unsettled him.

"Yes, sir," Regulus replied as he caught sight of Victoria’s white mane among a group of students.

He quickened his pace to reach her. The girl, however, deliberately ignored him, pretending to comfort a younger student who couldn’t have been older than Harry.

"It’s all right, Sirius Black didn’t get in... it’s impossible, we’re protected by the Dementors..."

The direct mention of his uncle was enough to make the Slytherins turn and stare at Regulus, whispers trailing him with every step. It felt like it took an eternity to return to the Great Hall, the prefects remaining at the entrance while the large crowd of Slytherins joined the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors.

"The professors and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," the Headmaster announced once Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had waved the prefects inside, closing the heavy doors to the entrance hall behind them. "I’m afraid, for your own safety, you’ll all need to spend the night here. I want the prefects stationed at the exits to the entrance hall, and I’ll task the Head Boy and Girl with overseeing it. They are to alert me immediately if there’s any disturbance." Dumbledore turned to Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Head Boy. "Send one of the ghosts to inform me."

Dumbledore paused as he reached the door and added:

"Ah, yes, you’ll be needing..."

With a casual flick of his wand, the long tables slid to the edges of the room, and with another tap, the floor was suddenly covered with hundreds of fluffy, purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," he said, closing the door behind him as he left.

Regulus’s head was spinning. He’d been right. Sirius was in the castle. He had to leave the Great Hall, had to go after him...

"Everyone into a sleeping bag!" Weasley shouted. "Come on, no more chatting! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Sirius was in Hogwarts.

Regulus took a hurried step toward the exit, but stopped dead as he came face to face with Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Black..." she said, peering at him sternly through those square spectacles. "Is there a problem?"

"No... nothing, Professor." Regulus forced his best bored expression, pretending to choose one of the remaining sleeping bags, all the while watching Luana squabble with who was probably Fred Weasley over one of them.

"I saw it first!" he protested, tugging hard.

"I grabbed it first!" Luana retorted, wrapping herself in it on purpose just to make him let go.

"Weasley!" Regulus called out, holding a sleeping bag. Fred glanced at him sideways. "Leave her alone!" He threw the bag at the Gryffindor with more force than intended, making him stumble.

"Your white knight’s here, Teixeira!" Fred sneered, reaching again for her sleeping bag. Luana pulled back, clutching it like it was a priceless relic.

"Go suck a troll dick, Weasley!" she shot him the finger.

A group of Ravenclaws hissed at them to shut up.

"Is it true the Fat Lady’s portrait was all slashed up?!" Victoria asked as she approached, carefully stepping over someone on the floor.

Fred scratched his nose crudely and flicked a booger in the direction of a group of Slytherins.

"Yeah, looks like Black tried to break in there..."

Regulus’s blood turned to ice. Why had Sirius tried to get into the Gryffindor common room? Was he after Harry? Did... did his uncle think he’d been sorted into Gryffindor? Why do it on Halloween, of all days, when the common rooms were likely empty?

"The Gryffindor common room?!" Victoria pressed, her clear interest making Reggie even more exasperated.

"According to Peeves..." Fred shrugged, scanning the crowd for his mates.

"What do you mean, according to Peeves ?" Luana chimed in, clearly intrigued, her silver necklaces catching the flickering light of the floating candles.

"Black, Rookwood, Teixeira, Fred!" Percy barked with authority. "Why aren’t you all in your sleeping bags yet?!"

"Because I’m looking for George..." Fred began to explain.

"The lights are going out now!" Percy cut in.

All the candles extinguished at once, plunging them into darkness. The only illumination came from the silvery ghosts floating overhead, deep in conversation with the other prefects, and from the enchanted ceiling reflecting the star-strewn sky above.