Chapter 9
He apparates to the top of the driveway. It’s still warm and he’s in jean shorts and a t-shirt, perhaps a bit informal for Tea but he didn't feel like wearing robes. He stands there for a moment just watching the world.
It looks beautiful, the manor, still resplendent despite all that was done there. The gardens in full bloom, the wrought iron gates magnificent. Life keeps going, time continues to pass and eventually all that will remain of Voldemort will be stories and graves.
“Mr Potter?” The voice is hesitant and jolts Harry from his musings. He turns to find an Auror walking quickly towards him. Harry doesn't even try to force a smile, he’s having very mixed feelings about this entire thing. “It is you, she said you were coming but I wasn't sure I believed her. They’ll do anything to save their skin” the Auror laughs and Harry feels his heart clench, isn’t that the truth.
At his lack of response the Auror frowns. “If I could take your wand sir. Just to verify I'm sure you understand” Harry allows his wand to be taken without a word and the Auror cautiously examines it, casting a few charms over the wand and, surreptitiously, over Harry too.
“I have been able to throw off the Imperius curse since I was 14” he states flatly and the Auror jumps. “My wand.”
“Of course Sir.” The Auror hands it back and scrambles towards the gates to allow Harry through “Just shout if you need assistance Sir, not that I suspect you'll need it, hey” the Auror winks at him and Harry frowns, passing through the once sentient gates without a word.
In somewhat of a perturbed mood Harry strides the grounds with purpose, bounding up the steps and knocking loudly at the door. Almost instantly it swings inwards and a house elf in a pristine white robe bows deeply to him.
“Master Potter, this way please” Harry looks back over his shoulder as he steps into the house and finds the Auror watching him on the other side of the gate. He frowns again and allows the elf to lead him through the entry hall.
“What’s your name?” Harry asks softly, eyes darting around the cold hall as the elf scurries through the house, not even acknowledging any of the closed doors they pass. Despite outwards appearances the house does feel haunted,
“Gibbly, Sir” the elf replies and it speeds through the house. After a moment they come to a set of ornate glass double doors. The elf’s magic opens them with a flourish and the rush of air is warm compared to the chilly house. Glasshouse she had called it. As Harry sets into the outbuilding the scent of thick air and flowers rushes him in a way he’s never felt before and he almost goes dizzy.
As he steadies himself. Harry takes in the space, less of a glasshouse more of a full fledged solarium; the walls are glass panelled with green iron forming the support work, twisting designs across the glass panels, the roof domed above easily two stories high. Plants of every colour, shape and size covering the space. The sunlights spills into the room through all the glass, refracting light across the space in a breathtaking display of tranquillity. A butterfly flutters past. Vibrant orange and black with white edges, he finds himself reaching out to one which lands momentarily on his finger before taking flight again.
“A Monarch” the voice is soft, almost cautious and Harry jumps, looking to his left and finding Mrs Malfoy standing by a garden table with three seats and a tea set. She’s risen from her chair and her hands are clasped in front of her. She looks worn and tired but still regal. He likes that about her, that she holds her power. In the time since the battle and during his time with the letters it had occurred to him the parallels between his mother and Draco’s. The role Mrs Malfoy has always played and the choices she made to keep her son safe, just as Lily did. She smiles at him slightly, a genuine but strained action; “The butterfly.”
“Oh” Harry nods and takes a deep breath of the thick air, he swallows and gestures behind him vaguely “Your gate is dead” she blinks at him and frowns for a moment before her expression clears.
“Ah, no not dead, the ministry have frozen much of the grounds magic while we await trial” She tells him this as a plain fact but the muscles of her face tighten slightly and he frowns.
“What else is wrong with the grounds?” she sighs and gestures at the chair across from her and Harry rushes to take the seat. He scoots the chair under the table jerkily, the loud squeak of metal on stone filling the once tranquil space. He throws an apologetic look up at Mrs Malfoy who forces a taut smile and lowers gracefully into her own chair.
“Nothing of note, a few lapses in security charms, a rogue ghoul in the basement, nothing we can’t handle.” She picks up the delicate teapot and inclines it slightly towards him “Tea, Mr Potter?” he nods and pushes his sweaty hands between his thighs nervously, leaning forwards in his chair to watch her artfully pour their tea.
“I've never had Afternoon Tea before” he tells her, biting his lip. She flashes her gaze up to him for a moment with a question in her eyes as she finishes adding milk to her own cup. When she sits back Harry mirrors her actions, seasoning his cup to taste before he hastily lifts it with the saucer to rest back in his own chair. Watching her surreptitiously through his lashes Harry carefully copies her movements, raising the cup of his lips and taking a drag.
“Fuck me, that’s good” he hisses, lowering the cup to inspect it more carefully. A stifled laugh from across the table makes him blush “Oh god, sorry Mrs Malfoy, that’s just like a perfect brew!” He smiles awkwardly at her as he tries to place his cup back down without breaking anything.
“That’s quite a compliment from an Englishman Mr Potter” she tells him with a smile “I grow my own tea leaves here. And the elves dry them for me”
“Oh, that's pretty cool” He tells her, looking around the room to try and locate the plant before realising he actually doesn't know what a tea plant looks like and spinning back to meet her gaze. He looks away quickly and his eyes land on the empty third chair. “Will um, will Draco be joining us?”
“I did ask him to but he did not confirm with me before your arrival” Her face is tight again. Harry rubs his palms down his shorts again. A light breeze passes through the room and he inhales a faint whispering of green apples, his heart stutters and he clears his throat slightly. “Is that acceptable, Mr Potter?” She asks harshly and he blinks at for, trying to clear his head enough to remember the conversation past thoughts of white blonde hair.
“Oh, yeah of course. Please call me Harry though.”
“Of course, Harry.” There’s a clink of china and he snaps his gaze away from her hastily avoiding eye contact. “I did wonder why you wanted to speak with me.”
Harry twists his hands together for a moment, keeping his gaze darting around the room trying to locate the butterflies as he attempts to put his words together.
“I was wondering if you would speak with me about Regulus,” he hears it, of course he does, the sharp intake of breath, the slight shake of her hand in the way the china rattles against itself in her saucer. “I recently came into possession of some of his letters. Ones he kept and ones he received. My late friend Remus Lupin left me a large collection of letters and asked me to read them to give myself some… perspective I suppose” Harry continues, now picking at a thread on his seam.
“Regulus,” it’s a whisper. Harsh like the word has crawled from the blackest depths of her heart. Forgotten and locked away in grief.
Harry knows grief, better than he knows anyone. Like a friend he walked with his whole life. Side by side. Harry and Death. Forever in tandem. Death stood next to his crib and his mothers body until someone came for him. Death in his cupboard, waiting for the part of him it was owed. Showing him the philosopher's stone. Death pitying him as it claimed yet another family member with a quick tug through the veil, bent low over Fred’s body next to a weeping Molly. Death at his back through the forest supporting him always.
The types of grief Harry has learnt are more than one should ever have to bear. Old grief, new grief. The loss Narssisa Malfoy must have felt for Regulus however, is not one Harry has yet to experience. The soul gutting loss of someone akin to a younger brother, from his understanding of their relationship. Someone she loved in her very bones, someone she wanted to protect and failed. Someone she knew so well and was wrenched from her too soon.
He looks at her and finds a far-off look on her face. He opens his mouth to apologise to her but as he goes to speak the door swings open in a flurry of cool air and apples. He catches sight of Draco’s knees first. An odd thing to catch his attention he supposes but they're just… there. He’s wearing black joggers that cling to his legs, a white henley shirt with the shelves rolled around his arms. His hair is more mussed than Harry has ever seen it and he looks…tired. Resigned even. There’s still a slight haughtiness to his mannerisms but he looks almost soft.
Without even thinking about it, Harry launches to his feet, the chair scraping back as he raises for Draco’s entrance. The other man halts quickly, frowning at him with an air of distaste that makes Harry’s heart drop for a reason he can’t quite place.
“Relax Potter, I don't have a wand remember” Harry frowns, blinks and frowns more.
“What?” Draco scowls at him now and Harry’s heart leaps in his chest so violently that Harry has to swallow it back down.
“I do not have a wand, there is no requirement to brace yourself. The Malfoys may be in low regard right now but I wouldn't sink to physical violence” Draco’s eyes run quickly down and back up his figure and Harry’s mouth goes dry. He quickly jerks his hand forward and Draco blinks at him for a second before he narrows his eyes and steps closer. He takes Harry’s palm in his own, the touch feels electric and there's a slight flutter to Draco’s eyelashes that makes Harry wonder. Draco is close enough that Harry can smell him, overwhelming Harry’s brain with lemon and apples. Their fingers pressed together intimately, Harry feels his own curl into Draco’s hold and sees the breath catch in Draco’s throat. Too quickly Draco yanks his hand back and takes a deliberate step back towards the door. Involuntarily, Harry follows. Draco looks alarmed and turns to his mother, who Harry had, frankly, completely forgotten about until that moment.
“Right, well I have made my appearance. I hope that satisfies Potter’s desire to ensure the dangerous Malfoys have been contained well.” Draco turns on his bare heel and leaves the room.
“Malfoy, i’m not here to-” but Draco keeps going. Harry sighs, unsure why he's so bothered by this. When he turns he finds Mrs Malfoy watching him closely.
“Perspective?” She asks and then hums to herself “Yes, I imagine the first war would give you some depth into how complicated things can be for those of us with little choice” she lets her gaze drag from Harry to the door Draco has left from and a level of understanding Harry does not possess comes over her and she nods, rising to her feet. “If you would like to follow me i might be able to help you”
She leads Harry back into the manor, through parts he doesn’t recognise, until he hears the voices. Cautious now, Harry follows her into a gallery. The walls are lined with paintings. No one Harry knows but recognisable features in them all. She continues through the room ignoring all the portraits. Harry stops as his eyes fix on a landscape.
It's a forest scene. A small brook trickling a path through the woods. Trees looming up to kiss the sky. The world looks damp, as though a storm has just passed. Small shafts of light fall through the tree’s canopy, bringing radiance to a gloomy view. He can feel the cold of the scene in the way a light fog clings to the water. The trees stained red and brown with autumn's first touches. Harry shivers, something about it touches his heart. A feeling of safety and peace. Quiet and clean air.
Reluctantly Harry pulls his gaze away from the landscape and hurries to catch up with Mrs Malfoy. Harry finds her in an alcove, staring out a window and Harry hesitates.
“You always look so sad when you come to see me Cissy” a voice sighs and Harry realises there's a painting hung on the wall outside his eye line. It must have the same view out the window he has right now. The lush grass vibrant in the summer sun, the blooming flowers, butterflies and bees. Wisteria framing the entire view. It should be a painting itself, Harry thinks. How odd to give a painting such a good view.
“I miss you,” Mrs Malfoy says, still refusing to look at the painting.
“Has not enough time passed for that to alleviate now?” the painting asks on a weary exhale and Mrs Malfoy throws a glare at it, finally tearing her gaze from the window. “There she is.”
“Oh I give up with you,” Mrs Malfoy huffs before she smiles softly, eyes drinking in the person before her. Her hand rises almost involuntarily, reaching, searching for the occupant, before her fingers clasp hopelessly on nothing and her eyes brim with tears.
“Now, Cissy. What would Aunt Drella say if she saw you weep for me” the tone is soft and Mrs Malfoy raises her chin slightly.
“I brought someone to see you…one of Draco’s friends”
“Draco doesn't have any friends” the voice drawls and Mrs Malfoy rolls her eyes.
“The pair of you, how can you possibly be rivals and confidants with your 17 year old nephew I’ll never know” she looks to Harry, gesturing the portrait.”Harry, this is Regulus Black” as she speaks, Harry moves to her side, gaining his first glimpse of the portrait.
It’s funny how much of this man Harry already knows. Funny how he can see Sirius so clearly in those cheekbones, the exact shade of his hair. How he can see Draco in those eyes, the bow of those lips. Funny how Harry possesses a fraction of Regulus’ soul through letters he was never ever meant to read. Funny how Regulus’ actions and choices so deeply mirror his own. Funny how, exactly when he needed him, Regulus Black was there.
“James?” The word feels like the crack of a hand across Harry’s face. It wouldn't be the first time a member of the Black family had mistaken him for his father but…looking at the awestruck face of what can only be a 17 year old Regulus Black, Harry feels the pain he is about to cause inhis very bones,
“No.” A simple word with far too much power, with it Regulus’ hope, his love and joy, drain from his face, replaced with an almost hollow detachment. Harry itches to apologise but from what he’s learned of Regulus, it wouldn't help.
“No.” His voice breaks on the word and Harry looks down “No, of course, I know what befell your parents Mr…Mr Potter” the hesitation makes Harry look back at Regulus. Who else held the moniker of Mr Potter before him. He nods once, not a conversation he thinks either of them want to have. He looks at Mrs Malfoy and she bows her head, stepping back,
“When you’re finished Harry, call for Gibbly and they will lead you out or back to me if you have any additional questions.” He smiles at her and she leaves the room.
“My, what power you must have Mr Potter, to command the Lady of the manor from her own home with just a look” Regulus is watching him with narrowed eyes and Harry realises Regulus probably knows of Harry from Draco’s stories. Not especially flattering.
“I wanted to tell you, I destroyed the locket” He watches Regulus’ face for a sign of understanding. “I don’t know how your memories work, if you… if you know what im talking about.”
“I am aware.” Harry nods and looks away. From here he can see the forest landscape.
“Right. Well we found all seven of them, But Kreacher really helped.” at this Regulus softens slightly. “He’s very proud of you” Regulus huffs a laugh
“Devoted old fool” Harry grins and leans back against the wall, watching Regulus.
“You don’t like me?”
“You are not Draco’s friend,” Regulus tells him and Harry nods. Staring into that mystical scene again as the magic in the painting makes dustmotes fall through sunlight and the river continues to run it’s never ending flow.
“You’re not wrong.” He can hear the regret in his own tone and swallows. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a letter. It’s the one Regulus sent to Barty. He was hesitant to bring any of the letters with him but he needed Regulus to understand. Harry unfolds it carefully and begins to read; “With reference to the side we will choose in this war, I fear it will not be a choice at all. “
He flicks his gaze up again and finds Regulus’ face has tightened. Harry flicks his gaze to the latter part of the letter “I will request this of you only once. I won’t disrespect you and keep on nor myself and beg. There are rocks tying us down, familial obligations and no escape routes. Not all of us have somewhere safe to run. You, however, are not tied down like we are. You can stay clean of this all. Be neutral in the war. Be Pandora’s chaperone and leave with her. I know you will want to dismiss me immediately but knowing you are safe would be an immense comfort to us. Yours until hell,” Here Harry pauses, the sign off burned into his brain more clearly than he would like “R A B”
“Where did you get that Mr Potter?” Harry watches for a moment and then tilts his head, acquiescing the point.
“Remus left them to me. A lot of them. From all of you” they hold each others gaze for a long moment before Regulus sighs and slumps back in his chair.
“Oh fine! Who am I to say no to you, with your mothers attitude and your fathers pout. Insatiable wretch. Let the record show I tried to stand with my nephew” Regulus rolls his eyes and arches a brow at Harry. “What is it that you want from me Mr Potter?”
Isn’t that the question? Harry rubs his thumb over Regulus’ signature for a long moment thinking over his words, possibly for the first time in his life,
“Do you know Luna?” He asks and Regulus blinks, clearly taken aback. He hesitates a moment and then nods sharply.
“Yes, Draco… told me of her during her time here.” The words are cautious and edged with obvious distaste. “Pandora’s child,” it’s not quite a question and Harry can see the hesitancy in Regulus’ face.
“You don’t know?” Regulus shakes his head. “Yes. But Pandora… I don't know the specifics. Luna told me it was a backfired experiment when Luna was 9,” Harry feels his heart twist as he speaks and Regulus nods, shifting his gaze from Harry to the window again.
“I sit here, I have for a long time… I was just… existing, Time is funny and Cissy can’t bear me for long. Then Draco found me. He must have been 5. He began to bring his school work here. Ask for help. Suddenly, I had something to track time with. Watching him grow. He is older now than I ever was and yet… I still feel the weight of these years. I can be so easily cloistered here with my pretty view… it’s easy to forget….” Regulus looks back to Harry sharply. “But you know, I assume, what happened to them” Harry nods slowly. “And you want things from me?”
“I do. Luna… she told me that you and I are two sides of the same coin, She knows you well. I don't know how I would assume Pandora but… She’s one of my closest friends and… well. I have some questions I guess” he shrugs. “A lot but… I know I won't get all of my answers.” Regulus narrows his eyes and sucks his teeth.
“Very well. I will answer your questions and you will tell me the fate of my loved ones” Deal struck, Harry watches Regulus watch him for a long time before he speaks.
“Did you love my father?” There are more relevant questions, more topical. Juicier ones too but… He can already feel the answer in the way Regulus is watching him. Like he’s trying so very hard to keep himself at a distance from a man who looks so much like James did. Harry just needs to understand.
“Yes.” Its curt, like expanding, would hurt too much to bother. “I.. I imagine that my actions don’t show that to you but…I did.”
“I know,” Harry breathes. “You loved him enough to sacrifice your life and happiness for his. Not just…how you died but your life. You knew what your path held and you cut him out of it to save him from…from you” Regulus takes a moment to respond and Harry can see the tears in his eyes. When he speaks his words are so laced with regret that Harry had to clench his jaw.
“James would be devastated to know you were never taught how to love” he doesn't have a response to that. It’s true enough, the parallels between himself and Regulus run deep.
“Did you love Sirius?” Regulus narrows his eyes at this
“You don’t have a sibling so I can't begin to explain this to you. I love Sirius more than…” Regulus breaks off and swallows “I loved Sirius more than anything, I hate him and raged against him and envied him with every breath. But as my lungs flooded with water and the inferi dragged me down I wished upon his star, not my own. I prayed for him, not me.”
“Did Draco come to you for advice when he took the mark?” This clearly throws Regulus who frowns at him but Harry keeps his face still.
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?” Harry holds his breath, he still doesn't fully understand how things happened. The path to the choices Draco and Regulus before him made…but he wants to. Regulus inhales.
“Cissy came first. Straight from the meeting I imagine, bruised and bleeding herself.” This makes Harry blanch and Regulus chuckles darkly “It wasn't a polite request from Tom. She lay here before me sobbing for an hour before she pulled herself together. Draco came hours later. In the dead of night. He never asked, never told me. Just stood there and watched me for a long while. Then he sat down below me and asked me to point out Sirius to him again.” Regulus’ gaze drifts out the window again and Harry wonders how many times Regulus has wished upon his brother star in the past 19 years. “He asked me why I joined the Death Eaters. So I told him the whole unfettered truth of why, I told of Evan and Barty. I told him of the weight Sirius left behind and the stark reality of what my mother was.” Harry can imagine it. Draco curled against the wall, refusing eye contact with Regulus as they both watch the Sirius shine brightly in the darkness and Regulus indirectly cautions Draco with his own fable. “And then he asked me why I betrayed Voldemort.”
“What did you tell him?” Harry asks. Watching Regulus’ face and a bittersweet mixture of pain and love wars across his face.
“I told him of Lily,” Harry looks away, tears burning his eyes now. “I told him of my muggleborn friend. Of how her laugh felt like safety. Of her intellect and compassion. I told him how radiant she was and all the things she should have become” Harry blinks and a tear falls. He can feel Regulus watching him but he fixes his eyes on the wisteria. “I told him of James. Who feels like the sun. James who can make you smile at your worst. James who tells you that your worst doesn't scare him, and means it. James who feels like love.”
The sun is beginning to set on the garden and the sky is staining pink, the moon visible on the pastel backdrop. “I told him of Remus, my werewolf friend who had been taught he was worthless for his very nature but loved chocolate and collected records. How he would do prefect rounds with me and debate classic literature and had the capacity to be a great influence on people if the world would let him. Then I told him of Sirius, my brother, born with the strength to break free of this way, the capacity to fuck them all and run free. I told him how they all deserved the time and the opportunity to be more, do more, live more. I told him that I would do it all over again too, I would take it all, every iota of pain and sacrifice to have known them and for the chance to do what little I could to keep them safe.”
Harry scrubs at his face to remove the tears and nods, still watching a bee dig into the wisteria flowers through the windowpane.
“He joined anyway.” Harry states hoarsely.
“He, like me, had nowhere else to go. No one would help him now.” Harry turns back to Regulus and watches him again.
“Did you help him plot to kill Dumbledore?” Regulus smirks now.
“Who do you think suggested the poison?” Harry scowls at the reminder and pushes off the wall, moving closer to Regulus.
“I can tell you what happened to your friends, but you wont like it.” Regulus levels a flat look at him.
“I’m shocked.” Harry rolls his eyes and nods.
“Evan Rosier was killed by Moody during a raid” Regulus closes his eyes for a moment before he looks at Harry again and nods. “Barty Crouch Jr…”
Barty Crouch Jr has bothered Harry for a long time now, the things that happened to him, the choices he made… they don't make sense to Harry, even less so with the added context of who Barty was. “Barty’s father broke him out of Azkaban. Replaced him with his mother who was dying. Everyone thought he was dead but…”
“Spit it out Potter, I don't have all day” it makes something in Harry’s chest hurt to hear.
“His father kept him in his house with an elf, under an invisibility cloak and the imperius curse” Pure rages floods Regulus’ face and Harry inhales deeply before continuing, “Eventually, someone found out and that got back to Voldemort who… broke him out and claimed Barty as his most loyal follower, sent him into Hogwarts under the polyjuice potion as Mad Eye Moody”
“Wait, Barty turned Draco into a ferret?” Regulus asks, baffled and Harry chews his lip.
“I… i don't think he was fully there anymore… I was there when they interrogated him and… he wasn’t exactly sane. The ministry administered the dementors kiss shortly after” Regulus looks like he has been slapped. Leaning back in his chair for a moment before rising to his feet.
“Thank you, Mr Potter. I appreciate your candour.” Without another word Regulus leaves his frame. Harry stands there for a moment before movement catches his eye again and he spies the form of Regulus Black making his way through the trees and along the brook in the landscape across the room.
Harry leaves the gallery deep in thought with Gibbly at his side. He intends to head straight home but as they wind through the manor Harry hears shouting. His step falters and Gibbly begins to pull on their ears next to him. With a sinking feeling Harry moves towards the noise. As he gets closer to it Harry hears the words.
“You’re fucking nothing but scum Malfoy. I can’t wait till you’re behind bars and we can burn this whole fucking legacy down with everything you ever loved inside. Your mother too if we’re lucky.” Any caution he had has left him and he turns down the corridor with his wand out. He clocks the sight just seconds before the cloud of red descends, Draco is pinned to the wall, a vacant expression on his face as the Auror from the gate leans close, spitting words at Draco with a hand around his throat and a wand to his chest. The Auror jumps away from Draco who’s eyes alight on Harry with nothing but fear. Harry throws his wand to Draco and puts his fist into the Auror’s face, his fist coming away wet. The Auror goes down and Harry grabs a fist full of robes, holding his target steady and he swings his first again. And again. And again.
A hand wraps around the bicep of the arm holding the Auror and Harry goes still as lemons and apples surround him again. He takes his gaze off the bloody mess in front of him and looks up to see Draco watching him with wide eyes.
“That’s enough Potter.” It’s a whisper, but it's enough, Harry lets go of the Auror who slumps to the floor unconscious. Draco’s hand remains around Harry’s arm. He tugs lightly and Harry goes, pliant under Draco’s command. Draco is breathing heavily, eyes blow wide and he turns Harry so that Draco can reach the hand Harry used to throw his punches. Draco lets go of Harry's arm and Harry scowls. Draco is watching and and an odd look crosses his face before, with trembling fingers, he reaches out and pulls Harry’s bleeding hand into his own. Using Harry’s own wand, Draco begins to heal his hand. Harry can’t even feel it, he can hardly breathe around the feel of Draco’s silken hand against his calloused one. “You’re going to get in trouble for this, that’s my guard and I’m in enough trouble as it is.” Draco’s voice is timid and it doesn't sit right with Harry. This version of Draco. He shrugs.
“What are they going to do? I’m Harry Potter,” at this a laugh bubbles out of Draco and Harry smiles.
“I never thought that would be something to work in my favour,” Draco mumbles.
That evening, Harry is just trying to enjoy the football match and a cup of tea in the kitchen when George appears in the doorway. Harry glares at him.
“Don’t.”
“I heard,'' George begins heedlessly, “That you showed up in the minister's office with a bloody Auror and a rant about the due process of prisoners,” the other man says cheerily.
“George, I will kick you out.”
“Liar. Now, I thought to myself, George, surely little ol’ Harrykins wouldn't be causing such a fuss for any old baddy! No, this must be someone special. Tell me Harry, how does the manor look in summer?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Draco still hot as fuck then?” Harry chokes on his tea. George leaves the room laughing. It takes Harry a moment to recover his breath and when he does, he realises he hasn't heard George laugh in a very long time.