Regulus...
"What would you give to hear my voice one last time?"
I remember this night with Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Mary and you, of course. I remember stupid details, like your weight on my lap in this wide red velvet armchair, Remus' smile when Sirius took his hand, Dorcas and Marlene's laughter ringing out in unison in my living room, or Peter and Mary's desesperate look as they seemed sharing a thelepatic conversation that us, romantically receptive mortals, couldn't perceive. I still feel in my hand your cold fingers begging for a bit of warmth between my burning phalanges. I can hear the others giggling again, writing questions they seemed find amusing on pieces of parchment. I see you again, so concentrated, the tongue pointing on the corner of your lips, writing your own on the piece of paper you had wedged on your gnarled knee. I remember my hesitation, my indesicion about what to write on mine. When Marlene passed by with the bowl, you smiled at her while you slipped your meticulously folded parchment inside. She smiled you back. No one has ever understood how, and yet you adorded Marlene. No doubt she reminded you of your brother, but more outwardly, less attached to you, and you clung to her. Surprinsingly, she retourned the favor and you were the only person privileged to escape her incessant sacarsm. Anyway, the bowl had filled up with parchments.
Each of us had picked one, receiving a question signed or not from one of our friend.
"If the police arrested me without any explanation, what would you tink I did?"
"What is the most embarrassing thing you said on a date?"
"Why is it called lipstick if it doesn't really stick your lips together?"
When it was my turn... I remember the slight nervousness my smile was masking, as I took my pick. The parchment was folded in four, it took me several seconds to open it. When I saw your tight, careful handwriting on the paper, I couldn't help but smile. Everyone understood the question was from you, nothing else could have made me smile like this. They tanned me to read, and I discovered with them your question.
"What would you give to hear my voice one last time?"
At the time, I didn't know what to answer. I looked at you, your face with pale, thin features was anxious, but you smiled at me. I stammered something without much meaning, a banal, generic answer, but one that I nevertheless thought was true.
"Anything", I said. "If it means I can hear you again, anything's fair game."
You smiled again, and the others whistled. Your cheeks turned ruddy, and you hid in my neck. I strocked your black curls as I passed the bowl to Dorcas.
Now, I often think of what I would give to hear you again. To still perceive your breathe on my skin as you whisper words of love in my ear. To put my hand on your throat and feel your vocal cords vibrate as you laugh.
I think the answer hasn't changed. "Anything if it means I can hear you again". But now, that anything has become more concrete.
Next to me, Lily's sleeping quietly. Her long, red hair tangled on the pillow, she's beautiful. She's nothing like you, and yet I think I love her, nearly as much as I loved you.
Even so, I would give anything to see you one last time. Anything at all.
And the guilt of what it implies is terrible, but true.