Day Twenty-Six
Another envelope. Again, not his mother’s.
To Padfoot
He had found in his happiest moment that the person he missed the most was his godfather. His parents had always been shrouded with grief, the desire to share with them stemming from the hope of what could have been and not what had been. But he had shared happy moments with Sirius. He had given him advice, celebrated his achievements, and comforted him in his worst moments. So, it felt natural that he would have been the first person he could have told this news to.
He opens the envelope, and again, two letters rest inside, now in familiar handwriting.
Dear Padfoot,
It’s not your fault. I know that whatever happened, you’re blaming yourself, but it’s just not true. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.
You’ve got to keep going, Pads. Take Harry, love him, and raise him with Remus. (I’d say Peter, but we all know he’s too nervous around kids. He can be the fun uncle.) Just maybe don’t take him to Grimmauld, eh? Raise him at Potter Manor. Let him run around the fields and stick his toes in the stream. Teach him how to fly through the trees like we used to.
Semper Ad Meliora my friend. It’s your motto now, just as much as mine. You’re my family. I don’t even have words to express how much you mean to me, to Lily- and to Reg. I know you’ve never believed me, but he was good Pads. And he loved you.
Love
Prongs
He’s surprised at how short the letter is until he sees the way some of the ink is smudged—like water damage. His dad must have been crying.
Dear Sirius
It’s not your fault. I know you, Black, and I know you’re blaming yourself. Don’t.
If you’re reading this, then you know whose fault it is. But don’t focus on him. Focus on Harry. He needs you. You know how I feel about Dumbledore lately. No matter what he says, Harry is safest with you. You are the best person for the job. Sometimes, I think you love that little boy more than I do.
I know you pretend like Reg’s death wasn’t hard on you, but I know you take comfort in knowing he was here, knowing he was with us. Just because we are gone does not mean his traces don’t exist. Watch for him in Harry. I see him in the way Harry has so much compassion for someone so small and in the way he laughs. I hope as he gets older you can find bits of all three of us in him. I hope you can tell him when it happens.
Be happy, Pads. Don’t make your life more complicated. Just take Harry and Remus and be happy together.
Love
Lily
His mother’s words echo what she wrote to Remus. Focus on Harry. Don’t let Dumbledore separate you. James trusts Peter. Lily knows that if the letters are being read, they shouldn’t have. The new addition in both their letters is, of course, the assurance that Regulus loved Sirius. Harry briefly wonders if Regulus ever wrote a letter to Sirius. If somewhere in the vault, there’s a letter from brother to brother, telling him of the sacrifice he was about to make. The one he made for a tiny baby before he had a lightning scar.
Still, Lily’s words to Sirius are exactly what he thought he needed. Be happy. Don’t make life more complicated and be happy together.
I can do that, Mum, he thinks fondly.
“Alright, love?”
Harry looks up to see Ron leaning against the door frame. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just you know,” he holds up the letter like it explains everything.
“I know,” he smiles.
“You’re home early?”
Ron sighs and crosses the room to sit on the bed next to him. He intertwines their hands and rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “They’re raiding Malfoy Manor today. Robards wanted me to go but I- I just couldn’t. I tried not to freak out, but I must not have looked good because he sent me home,”
“Fuck,” he says shakily, unable to stop the echoes of Hermione’s screams from flashing through his mind. “I’m sorry. Is it- I mean, does that look bad on you or-”
“I don’t think so,” he says softly. “I don’t think anyone is going to fire me over it anyways,”
He chuckles. “I don’t think they’re ever going to fire you, but that’s good,”
“Yeah, well… you never know,”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowns.
“Just-” he sighs. “Yesterday made me doubt a little is all. And today. Maybe I’m not ready,”
A pang of guilt courses through him. “Do you really feel like that? Or are you beating yourself up because I went ghost?”
His silence speaks volumes.
“Baby,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around him. “I love you, I do, and you take such good care of me. But it’s not your responsibility to keep me from ghosting. It’s not anyone's responsibility because none of us can control it,”
“You passed out!” he says angrily, jumping to his feet. He scrubs a hand over his face. “And it’s not just you. I can handle it. Hermione can’t. If I was home-”
“If you were home, she still would have seen it happen because nothing would have changed,” he says firmly. “You would have called her for help just like she called you,”
“I haven’t seen her cry like that since-” he cuts himself off. His hands are shaking, and Harry stands to take him in his arms. Ron collapses against him, shoulders racking with sobs.
“She’s okay,” he says softly. “Do you want me to-”
“No,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t want her to get upset,”
“Ron,” he sighs.
“I just need you right now,” he whispers. “I feel so guilty for being upset about it because I only had to hear it, not experience it, but I just- I don’t want her to see me like this,”
Harry sighs at Ron’s pride yet understands completely. He pulls his wand out of his pocket and casts a muffling charm at the door before guiding them back to the bed. He lays down and pulls Ron close, letting him curl up on his chest and cry. It’s only the second time since the battle that he’s broken down like this, and Harry finds that, much like last time, the tide of his own emotion ebbs away so he can support him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry finally asks when the tears slow.
“No, I’d like to do anything but,” he says with a shaky laugh. “I want it to go away,”
“That’s not-”
“Harry, please,” he begs, looking at him with tear-stained cheeks. “I can’t. Please don’t make me,”
“Alright, alright,” he says quickly. “I won’t, but we’re going to have to someday,”
“I know, but just not today. Please?”
“Okay,” he nods. “Not today,”
Then, to his surprise, Ron surges up and kisses him. It takes him a second to get with the program before he can kiss him back gently, but he’s not having it. He pushes forward desperately until Harry meets him with equal fervor.
“Babe, what-” he tries to say between kisses, but he’s not given a chance.
“Make it go away,” he begs. “Please,”
He probably shouldn’t let him bury his emotions with sex. That’s probably the responsible adult thing to do. But Ron asks him for so little, and Harry is sort of sick of being responsible, so he swallows nervously and nods. “Okay,”
Ron presses forward again, rolling over so he’s straddling Harry’s lap as they kiss. It’s wet and clumsy, his lips taste like salt from the tears, and it’s like Ron is trying to climb into his skin with the way he’s tugging at his shoulders. He starts to work open the buttons of his auror uniform, cursing to himself that he can’t do wandless magic and just vanish their clothes. Still, he manages to get them undone, pushing the shirt off of Ron’s shoulders, which gets him to pull away long enough to tug off Harry’s own tee.
“Pants, baby, pants,” Harry says, pushing Ron away before he can dive back in.
He huffs, frustrated, but stays away long enough for them to both shuck off the rest of their clothes. When their naked bodies meet once more, Ron sighs into his mouth and relaxes slightly. Harry places his hands on his hips, being an active participant but not leading the way since he’s not entirely sure what the other boy wants.
“Want you,” Ron finally says, his chest heaving. “Please,”
“You can have me,” he nods, reaching blindly for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and holding it up to him. “Whatever you want,”
“No, no, I-” he hesitates. “I want you to… um,”
Harry’s eyes widen. “Oh. You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods. “Please?”
He leans up and kisses him softly. “Whatever you want,” he repeats sincerely.
Ron sighs in relief and slides off him, switching their positions. He’s sure that he expects him to jump to it, but he starts slow instead, kissing him deeply until the last of his frantic energy dissipates. He then works his way down Ron’s body, kissing and sucking on every inch of skin, learning the spots that make his boyfriend writhe and gasp. When he sucks his nipple into his mouth, he arches into him again, moaning with pleasure.
“You’re going to buck me off if you’re not careful,” he grins before latching onto the other one.
“You’re dragging this out on purpose,” Ron whines.
He chuckles and presses one last kiss to his chest before moving on. When he opens the bottle, Ron jumps at the sound of the cap. “Hey,” he says softly, rubbing soft circles into his thigh. “We can do something else if you-”
“No, I want this,” he insists. “Please,”
“Alright, just making sure,” he says softly. Not wanting the anticipation to build up more than needed, he quickly slicks up his fingers. He takes hold of his dick in the other hand to distract him as he presses the first finger against him. He still tenses up, clearly nervous. “Baby, you gotta relax,”
“I’m trying!”
“Shh, hey,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to his knee. “Just take a deep breath. I got you,”
Ron takes a shaky breath, and his body gives way to Harry’s insistent pressing. He moans softly as the finger slips in, and he starts to work him open, timing each movement with a stroke. When he feels confident, he starts pistoning a little faster, making Ron moan even more. He grabs some more lube and inserts a second finger, now with the intent of stretching him out.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” Harry says. “Just focus on me,”
He makes a needy whine in the back of the throat that does all sorts of things for Harry. “Please,” he says breathily. “I’m good, I’m- just- please,”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” he nods. “Need you,”
“Alright,” he says shakily, starting to feel a little nervous. He pulls out his fingers and lubes up his dick, pumping himself a few times to make sure he’s hard. He settles himself between his thighs before pushing in gently, watching Ron’s face for any sign of pain.
“Oh shit,” Ron breathes out. “Fuck,”
“Feel good?” Harry asks warily.
“So good, babe, fuck,” he pants.
When he finally feels comfortable with how far he’s in, he leans over, making Ron groan at the change of angle. “Gonna move now, baby,”
“Please,” he begs, sounding almost on the edge of tears. He draws out and pushes back in slowly, letting himself enjoy the sensations now that he’s not so worried about hurting him.
“Wow,” he pants, leaning down a little further so they can kiss. “You feel- so good,”
Ron’s arms snake around his waist, fingers digging into flesh like a lifeline. Harry tries to make each movement meaningful, desperate to make good on his promise to make it all go away, to make it impossible for his boyfriend to feel anything but their bodies and how much he loves him. On one particular thrust, Ron’s eyes go wide. “Oh, do that again,”
It takes him a couple of tries to find the angle again, but when he does, Ron arches beneath him, crying out in pleasure. Harry can’t help but feel a little smug as he does it again and again, loving the way he falls apart beneath him. He doesn’t rush, enjoying the closeness between them, but eventually, his own body starts to tire.
“You close?” he asks, sliding a hand between their bodies to help him along.
“Yeah,” he nods, head tipping back in ecstasy. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna-”
“You can cum, baby,” Harry says, smothering Ron’s cries with a kiss. “Cum for me,”
“I want you to- to-”
“I’m right there with you,” he promises. “Let go for me, come on,”
They finish in near-perfect harmony, hips stuttering to a stop as Harry collapses against him. There’s a moment of silence before they both laugh shakily, panting from the exertion and high on the pleasure rush. Ron brings his hands up to rub Harry’s back as they come back down together.
“So that was nice,” he chuckles.
Ron snorts. “That’s one word for it. Merlin, I love you,”
“I love you too,” he hums, giving him one last kiss before rolling off of him and flopping onto his back on the sheets.
“Thank you,” he says softly, words barely audible.
He tangles their hands together and brings his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “You’re welcome. I’m here for you, no matter what,”
He hums and takes their combined hands, kissing the back of Harry’s hand. “Do you want to shower with me?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Shower is good,”
The shower is nothing special but hot water and gentle touches seem to dissipate the last of Ron’s anxiety, leaving him relaxed and happy. They talk about nonsensical things as they help each other dress again, sharing happy kisses and soft smiles. It’s a complete flip from before, and Harry is looking forward to a cozy night with his partners.
So, of course, the doorbell chimes.
“Are we expecting someone?” Harry frowns.
“Not that I know of,” Ron says worriedly.
They open the bedroom door and walk out to the landing, just in time to see Hermione opening the front door. He can’t see who’s on the other side, but he can see the way her shoulders tighten. She takes a few steps back to open the door further, looking up at them with concern.
“Robards?” Ron asks, confused as the man steps over the threshold.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you all,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But well- there’s been a development,”
“What happened?” Harry frowns.
“Did something go wrong with the raid?” Ron asks anxiously.
“Not… wrong,” Robards replies hesitantly. “We found a secret room with someone inside,”
Hermione gasps in horror. “It’s been weeks! Are they okay?”
“They are, but-” he coughs uncomfortably, looking straight at Harry. “He’s asking for you,”
A sense of dread overcomes him, and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. He waits for his scar to hurt, expecting the searing pain that usually accompanies moments like these. But it’s mercifully quiet.
“Who?” he asks, hardly daring to.
“Regulus Black,”
✦✦✦✦✦
Harry feels like he might vomit. This can’t be real. This is not happening.
“Just breathe, Harry,” Hermione whispers, walking alongside him. The shiny black floor of the ministry reflects his own pained expression back at him.
“He’s in here,” Robards says, finally stopping in front of a door. “I’ll be honest. We’re not sure what to do with him, but he was clearly a prisoner, so we didn’t want to put him in a cell. So we charmed an empty office instead. He refused to talk unless he could see you,”
“I- Okay,” Harry gulps.
“Do you know why that might be?”
“Yes,”
Robards says nothing, waiting for an elaboration, but Harry keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to say anything until he knows for sure it’s Regulus.
“Alright,” the auror sighs. “He’s pretty weak, so you should be safe. We can see in the room from the office next door, but not hear. I’m assuming you don’t want an auror in there with you?”
“No,” Harry croaks out. “No, if it’s really him… I don’t,”
“Alright then, whenever you’re ready,”
“Do you want us to come?” Hermione asks gently.
“No,” he murmurs. “But be ready in case I ghost or something,”
“Make sure to ask him something only he would know,” Ron advises.
“I got it,”
“Good luck,”
Harry nods and takes a steadying breath. He grasps the handle of the office door and pushes it open, stepping into the room. He’s met with a man who looks like a stranger yet familiar at the same time. His hair is dark, and his frame is thin. He’s leaning forward on his knees, head bowed and hands clasped.
“I already told you I’m not-”
“It’s me,”
He raises his head in shock, and Harry is met with gray eyes that remind him far too much of another man. His face is both new and shockingly familiar. Not because he’s the spitting image of his brother but because he’s seen a picture… a picture of three happy teenagers hopelessly in love with each other.
“Harry?” he breathes out. For a moment, it looks like he’ll stand and rush him, but he stays firmly in his chair.
“Regulus Black left me a box and a letter to be given when I was of age. What was in the box?”
The man’s eyes widen at the question. “A gold ring on a chain, a journal, a stack of letters, and a photo,”
“At the end of the letter, he compared three people to three things. What were they?”
“The forest, the sea, and the stars,”
Harry sucks in a deep breath. Just maybe… “Regulus Black told Kreacher, the house elf, to destroy what object?”
“A locket,”
Harry softens, tears pooling in his eyes. He takes a step forward, still hesitant. “How? How are you alive?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I remember falling in the water, shouting at Kreacher to go, and then it was dark. Next thing I know, I’m being pulled from the water again, and it was…. It was him, but he was different, and he was angry,”
“And he what? Just stuck you in a room?”
“He wanted to know where the locket went,”
Harry takes another step forward, close enough now to touch him. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me, Harry. Oh, look at you, my sweet boy,”
It’s those words that convince him. No one could speak with that much love. Not if Dizzy was to be believed. He throws himself forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus’s- no- his dad’s neck. He’s sure it’s causing a commotion in the other room, but he doesn’t care. After all, he’s been through. He gets a miracle. He gets something back. He gets something better.
Regulus pulls away to look at him better, seemingly studying every inch of his face. “I’m so sorry, Harry,”
“Don’t be,” he whispers hoarsely. “You're the reason we figured it out, the reason I won. I’ll tell you everything, I promise,”
There’s a knock on the door. “Er, could I speak to you, Harry?”
He rolls his eyes. “Be right back,”
He forces himself to pull away and cross the room, stepping back out into the hall and facing a very confused Robards. “Care to explain what just happened? You were hugging a death eater!”
“He’s my dad,” Harry shrugs.
“I’m sorry… what? I thought that…”
“James Potter and Lily Evans were my parents. Regulus Black was their partner. He’s my dad,”
“There’s no record of that anywhere!”
“They hid it. I’m sure you can understand why. Dumbledore asked Regulus to become a spy in his seventh year,”
Ron and Hermione appear, both grinning ear to ear. “Is it really him, Harry?” Ron asks.
“It’s him,” he laughs.
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione says gleefully, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, I’m so happy for you,”
“I’m sorry, there is still a death eater in that room!” Robards shouts.
“The world isn’t split into good people and death eaters,” Harry says coolly. “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Give him veritaserum or ask for memories. You’ll find he’s always been on our side. Hell, go to Hogwarts and ask Dumbledore’s portrait,”
“And then what?”
“I’m taking him home,”
✦✦✦✦✦
It takes several hours, a lecture from Hermione, and Harry’s pretty sure he owes Robards a life debt now, but eventually, they trudge through the front door of Potter Manor, Regulus in tow.
“Dizzy!” Harry calls as the door clicks closed. “We’re home!”
Pop!
“Dizzy was most worried about Master Harry!”
“We’re fine, Dizzy,” he smiles at the little elf. “Look who it is,”
Dizzy looks past Harry to see Regulus, her eyes growing even wider with shock. “Master Regulus?”
“Hello, Dizzy,” Regulus smiles. “It’s good to see you,”
“But how is this happening?” Dizzy gasps.
“We’re not sure,” Harry sighs. “But do you think we could get some dinner? I’d do it myself, but-”
“Not to worry! Dizzy will bring food to the library!”
Pop!
“Uh, it’s this way,” Hermione says, walking towards the library.
“I’m familiar,” Regulus chuckles. “This isn’t my first time here,”
Harry has so many questions but he bites his tongue, holding himself back.
“I’m just glad we’re home,” Ron sighs appreciatively, sinking into the couch. Hermione hums in agreement, flopping herself into her chair. Harry hesitates, but then settles into his usual spot by Ron, deciding he needs the comfort.
Regulus gives a light chuckle.
“What?” Harry asks.
He sits down on the couch across from them. “You just… well, you remind me of us, that’s all,”
“Oh,”
There’s an awkward silence, none of them sure what to say. Finally, Harry settles on the one that’s been nagging him. “You haven’t aged,”
“It’s not something one does when they die,”
“I know, I just- it’s weird. You’re not much older than us. I mean, how old are you?”
“Twenty,” Regulus grimaces. “It is a bit odd,”
“I’m sure you have questions,”
“Many. As do you, I’m sure,”
He glances at Hermione and Ron, who both smile at him supportively. “You first,”
“When did they die?”
“I was one. They made Peter Secret-Keeper, and he betrayed them,”
Regulus’s eyes narrow. “That little rat,”
“Did you know?” Harry asks a hint of rage in his voice. “About Peter?”
“I did. He was lower in the ranks than me, so I wrongly assumed he was another spy,”
“Did you ever tell mum and dad?”
“No,” he whispers, and Harry can see the shame on his face. “We all had secrets. No one could know too much about what the other was doing, and we weren’t allowed to talk about what we did. I thought they knew to be truthful,”
“That was Dumbledore’s downfall,” Hermione frowns. “He kept too many secrets,”
“Was?”
“Dumbledore’s dead,” Harry says grimly. “About two years ago now,”
“I see… I think you better start at the beginning,”
So they tell him. It takes over an hour, and it’s the abridged version, only pausing when Dizzy brings them enough food to feed ten people. They leave out Sirius’s death. Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him yet. To his surprise, Regulus doesn’t react. Just listens and nods as they recount the last seven years of life to him. Even when they explain to him about the locket and how they found out what he had done, he sits there blank faced, ever a Slytherin.
“Then I killed him,” Harry finishes sort of lamely. “And almost a month later, here we are,”
“A month,” Regulus says thoughtfully. “I wondered how long it had been,”
“You were down there for a month?” Hermione asks, her mouth parted in horror.
“A little longer if you add it all up,” he frowns. “I didn’t notice. The food kept coming, as usual, some sort of spell or house elf, I suppose. Speaking of, where is Kreacher? I do hope Sirius isn’t too cruel to him,”
Harry clears his throat, desperate not to cry. “Kreacher is at Hogwarts. I- I sent him there,”
“You sent him there? Not-”
Harry looks at Hermione helplessly. He can’t say it.
It’s Ron who comes to his rescue. “Sirius died in our fifth year. I’m sorry,”
It’s the first flash of emotion that Harry’s seen since he first walked into that office. A flash of grief that Harry knows all too well. It makes him realize how young the man is that sits before him. It must all feel so confusing, marred by the fact that for him, the first war was a few months ago, and the people he loved were alive.
“I see. Well, I’m glad you got time with him,” he smiles softly. “Lily says- used to say, that he loved you-”
“- more than she did,” Harry finishes.
“How did you-”
“There were some letters. They wrote them just in case, to me and the other marauders. None of us ever received them until a few weeks ago when I got access to the Potter accounts. You’re welcome to read them,”
“I- I’d like that, thank you,”
Harry pauses, not sure if he dares to ask what’s on his mind. “How long ago for you? Since you saw them?”
“I saw all of them just a few days before I- before the cave. I managed to get away for a whole weekend. Sirius showed up, and we had a row, of course. He didn’t trust me. I think your mum knew something was up, but I waved her off,”
A flash of anger stabs through Harry’s core. “Why were you so stupid?” he asks before he can realize what he’s saying.
“Harry!” Hermione gasps.
“No, he was an absolute idiot! You should have told someone, told Dumbledore! Not run off like some bloody idiot and leave them! Leave me! Why did you think that was a good idea? You know, everyone always asks why I’m such a bloody martyr, and now I know the answer. I can just tell them I got it from my dad!”
At some point, he rose to his feet, and he stands there panting, fists balled tightly. He can feel Ron’s hand on his back, steadying him. Regulus stares back at him, still with that cool exterior that only heightens his annoyance.
“You knew,” Harry whispers. “About Horcruxes. You could have told Dumbledore, and maybe, maybe they would be alive,”
“Harry,” Regulus whispers softly, his eyes shining with hurt. “Where do you think Dumbledore learned about them?”
“Wh- what?”
“I did tell him. In great detail, actually,”
“And?”
“And nothing. He said, thank you for the information, and that was that,”
“That’s- what?”
“You’re right, Harry, that I was an idiot, but not in the way you think. It wasn’t some heroic martyrdom that sent me to that cave. It was rage. The culmination of a lifetime of being told to sit and wait. Wait for Sirius to come home from Hogwarts, wait for James to notice me, wait for Lily to notice me. Wait at Hogwarts, and hey, could you be a spy since you're going to be a death eater anyway? Be a good little spy, Regulus. Just give me the information and return to your mission. Sit and wait, Reg, we just have to wait it out!”
“Yeah, but-”
“I was so tired, Harry. And you were so small, and we were being told that he had picked you, and they had to hide. You know Dumbledore didn’t even want me to see you? Any of you? So then I brought him the information on a golden platter, and he took it with barely a thanks. And I went a bit mad. I had to do something, and it was the only thing I could think of. My dying thought was of how much I loved you and praying it was enough to keep you safe! I gave myself willingly to death so you wouldn’t have to, and I failed. So you’re right. I am an idiot. But at least I was a good dad!”
“I would have rather had a bad dad that was alive than a dead good one,”
He regrets it. The moment it leaves his mouth, he regrets it. Not only because Regulus looks like he’s been hit with a cruciatus curse but because white starts to stab at the corner of his vision.
“Harry? Harry, come on, stay here, love,” Ron says urgently, bringing him down to sit on the couch. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him against his chest. “Stay with me,”
Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head a little, fighting it off.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He gets these panic attacks,” he can hear Hermione explain. “We think it's a side effect from dying,”
“I’m okay,” he finally mumbles as the white fades. “I’m sorry,”
“You’re okay,” Ron assures him.
He looks up at Regulus, who is watching him with a tense expression. His hands grip the couch cushion as if it's the only thing stopping him from rushing over.
“I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said that,”
“You were right, though,”
“No, I wasn’t. I know better than to go down that line of thinking. A lot of things could have been different if one person did one thing. But they didn’t. And maybe none of them really had a choice in the end anyways, you know, prophecy and all, but you’re here now, and I’m really tired of being angry with people,”
“I'm sorry, you know. In the end, we were all a bunch of teens doing our best,” Regulus says with a dark look in his eye.
Harry smiles weakly. “So were we,”
There’s a long stretch of silence, and he’s not sure what to say. He briefly wonders if this is how people feel when they speak to him, terrified of saying the wrong thing and ripping open the healing scars of grief. It’s odd to finally look in someone else’s eyes and see, person for person, how much each death stings. To finally have someone who understands him so completely without even knowing him at all.
“Well,” Hermione finally sighs. “I think that’s been enough for one night,”
“But-”
“Harry, you’re exhausted,” she frowns. “You’ve already pushed off an episode tonight,”
“She’s right, love,” Ron murmurs.
He glances at Regulus, who smiles at him softly. “It’s alright,”
“Alright,” Harry sighs. “I’m sure Dizzy’s already figured out a room for you,”
“I’m sure she has,” Regulus laughs.
They all stand to part ways, and Harry hesitates for a moment. Then he takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus. He stiffens for a moment and then relaxes, hugging Harry back.
“Goodnight, Harry,”
“Night… dad,”