45

Chapter 45: Through the Night

Hogsmeade, December 19th 1997

As soon as Hermione and I Apparate into the main street of Hogsmeade, surrounded by the thatched cottages and shops all covered in snow, we know something's wrong.

A loud, screeching noise echoes throughout the village, and then several men – Death Eaters – emerge to the street, stopping in the middle of the street to peer around. "Someone's here! Put it out, Gordon!"

One of the Death Eaters flicks their wand, and the village is quiet once more. And then, a yell that makes both Hermione and me grab the cloak tighter around us.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

But thankfully, the cloak doesn't move an inch.

However, the men start to walk towards us, and Hermione and I silently retreat towards one of the side streets, clumsily, as we try to stay completely under the cloak, and slowly, as we try to clean up our footprints from the snowy ground.

When we think we have managed to get far enough, as the frustrated yells of the Death Eaters become distant, Hermione tries to Disapparate.

"Harry…It's not working," Hermione whispers anxiously. "I can't Disapparate!"

I swallow hard. "Anti-Disapparation wards. They knew we'd come," I say, cursing inwardly. "We need to run, Hermione. We can't stay here," I mutter quickly, but then…then, the air suddenly gets colder…darker.

No…

Hermione squeezes my arm, frozen in place against one of the buildings, giving me a terrified look. "Dementors," She whispers. "What do we do, Harry?"

There's no other way – we need to use a Patronus charm, otherwise they'll get us. And then the Death Eaters will know our location immediately, and know that it's us. Bloody hell.

Soon, a group of Dementors come to our sight, at the end of the narrow street.

"Cast the charm, Hermione. Think of something happy," I whisper to her, lifting my wand, my hand shaking violently.

Instantly, hopelessness fills me, as the creatures glide closer, their rotting hands visible, their breaths rasping in the silence. All I can see, all I can think of, are the images in my mind. The small mound covered in white flowers. The cold hand against mine in the cellar. The frail, lifeless body, innocent and wan. The fall. The blood pooling into the street. The emptiness in his eyes.

Hermione waves her wand next to me, but nothing comes out from it; only wisps of silvery fog. "I c-can't, Harry," Hermione whimpers, "I'm trying, but it's not w-working!"

I manage to force the images away, knowing we have to make it. Knowing that we have to get to the castle. "Expecto Patronum!" I hiss quietly, thinking of Hermione, thinking of Sirius, and Ron, and Regulus. I need to make it, to save them. And I will.

A large, silvery stag erupts from my wand, and I give it a small smile, before it turns and charges towards the group of Dementors, banishing them from sight.

"Potter! It's Potter! I saw it! The stag!" Someone yells seconds later, very close to us.

Fuck.

Just as I'm sure we're getting caught now, as there are at least ten Death Eaters, and only two of us, and thus no use of even dreaming of beating them, suddenly, a door opens from the building behind us.

"Quickly, come inside!" Someone grunts silently.

Hermione and I scramble towards the voice – a tall man, it appears – and slip inside the building.

"Upstairs. Keep the cloak on," The man grunts, and steps outside.

Hermione and I creep silently up the stairs close to the door we came in, and as we walk into what seems to be a sitting room, we take a curious look around us. There's a sofa and an armchair placed in front of a small fireplace, and a large painting of a blonde girl hanging on an otherwise empty wall opposite to the fireplace. Two large sideboards line one wall, with a door on either side of them – one from which we came in just now, and one, which I assume leads to a bedroom, or perhaps a kitchen.

"Where are we?" I whisper, looking at Hermione's deep frown.

Hermione puts a finger against her lips. "Hog's Head. Come on," she whispers silently, nudging her head towards the windows, where sounds of arguing can be heard from the narrow side road.

The Hog's Head's barman yells something to the Death Eaters, conjuring a Patronus – a goat – and then…

"They're leaving," Hermione whispers anxiously, as we watch the group of ten or so men turn away from the pub and its barman with sneering expressions.

"Thank Merlin," I grumble, as relief washes over me.

The barman steps back into the pub, locking the door and setting up some security wards – at least, I feel some charms surrounding us. As our saviour walks slowly up the stairs, Hermione and I step away from the window, and further into the dark room before we pull the cloak away.

The barman enters the room, and like the last time I saw the man, I'm reminded of someone.

"You're Aberforth," I say bluntly, after realising what is now quite obvious. The tall and thin man looks nearly as old as Dumbledore, with long, grey hair and beard, and with exactly the same pair of piercing blue eyes behind spectacles.

The man grunts at me, before flicking his wand to the windows, pulling curtains tightly shut. He then proceeds to light up a set of candles on top of the sideboards and on the coffee table.

"T-Thank you, for saving us just now!" I hastily tell him, and, as the man then walks towards one of the doors and slips inside, still ignoring us, I share a small frown of hesitation with Hermione.

What is he doing? What is he thinking? Surely, we can trust him? He's Dumbledore's brother, for Merlin's sake!

But then, Aberforth returns with a plate of sandwiches and two Butterbeers, placing them on the coffee table in front of the sofa, before giving us an assessing look. "You shouldn't have come here," Aberforth says curtly, sitting in the armchair. "You must've known they'd set you a trap, Potter."

"I…"

"Eat," Aberforth grunts, nodding at the sofa and the coffee table.

Both Hermione and I hastily take our seats and thank the man again, before tucking into the meal.

Aberforth clears his throat, watching us with a contemplative look. "You should wait until daybreak to slip away from the village, go north, and then apparate – "

"Hang on," I interrupt him, realising what he's saying. "We need to go to the castle. Dumbledore – I mean, Albus, he gave us a mission. He left us a task that has to be done, in order to –"

Now Aberforth interrupts me, by letting out a dry laugh. "My brother gave you a mission?" He says, narrowing his eyes. "He left you a task to be fulfilled? A nice task, is it?" There's darkness in his voice.

"Mr. Dumbledore, it is quite important," Hermione tries, but Aberforth shakes his head, glancing away for a bit, before focusing back to us.

There's a tense silence.

"My brother was always good luring others into his many quests. It was always important, for the greater good, and usually ended up into someone else's loss," He says, somewhat coldly.

Hermione and I stare at him, stunned by what he's saying. Aberforth's eyes are fixated at the oil painting on the wall.

"Why would you say that?" I ask him slowly, bothered by what he's implying, bothered that Skeeter's article instantly floats into my mind.

Aberforth's eyes narrow a bit, but he's still gazing at the blonde girl, who watches back calmly. "My sister was six years old, when she was attacked by three Muggle boys," Aberforth says.

Hermione's eyes widen. "Mr. Dumbledore…is that, um, is that your sister?" She asks hesitantly.

Aberforth gives a small nod. "Ariana. The boys who attacked her – well, she was never the same after that. It destroyed her, what they did. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn't control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless," He says quietly.

I feel nauseated, and Hermione stifles a gasp, while looking horrified, and we both wait Aberforth to continue.

"My father took revenge on the Muggles, and was thrown into Azkaban. My mother was left with three children to look after. Ariana was to be kept safe and quiet – no one could know about what she had become. And as time went on, my mother couldn't handle Ariana alone," Aberforth says, watching his sister's painting still, anger and regret in his eyes.

"I was the one who took care of her, when my mother couldn't. Not Albus," Aberforth grunts, turning back to us. "No, dear Albus had much more important things to accomplish, than to look after his sickly sister…"

Aberforth takes in a deep breath, staring at the table, certain tightness around his eyes. "Then, came a time, when I wasn't there. My sister, she…her magic burst unexpectedly, and she couldn't control it. My mother was killed by it."

I stare at the man in shock. How horrible…everything that happened to him and Dumbledore in their youth. Their family broken like that. I almost don't want to hear more, but stay silent as Aberforth continues.

"Albus was forced to stay home to take care of us, as he was the head of our house then. He should've gone with that Doge to their planned travels, should've left me with Ariana. Everything would've been better that way. But no!" Aberforth says, anger seeping into his voice. "Albus came home, and then met someone. Grindelwald." Aberforth spits out the name. "And then all he did was plan his new Wizarding order and look for Hallows with his new friend. What was one sickly kid compared to the great plans he was forming for the benefit of the whole Wizarding world?" Aberforth asks bitterly, looking into my eyes, his gaze as sharp as his brother's had been.

"So, naturally, there were arguments between us, as I didn't really see eye to eye with my brother regarding his great plans. And then, one day, one of the arguments…got out of control," Aberforth says coldly. "My brother's best friend put me under the Cruciatus Curse, since he thought that I didn't understand the greater picture, that I was merely a silly boy who needed to be taught his place. My brother tried to stop him, and then we were all duelling," Aberforth continues, a deep frown between his eyes, "Ariana, she…she couldn't stand it, she tried to make us stop – and – and," he stammers, his voice breaking, as he moves his gaze towards the floor.

"I don't even know who of us did it. She died."

Hermione gasps loudly, tears in her eyes. Aberforth looks pale, looks pained, looks hopeless.

"It's horrible, Mr. Dumbledore. I'm so, so sorry for your loss…" Hermione whispers.

I wish I had not heard Aberforth's story. Any of it. I feel sick. I watch the painting of her, of Ariana. Then, a memory flickers into my mind.

"He regretted it, your brother," I tell Aberforth quietly, remembering the woods, and the locket. Remembering what Dumbledore had seen before Regulus had destroyed the Horcrux. "He wished it had been him instead."

Both Hermione and Aberforth give me stunned looks. Then Aberforth levels me with an unimpressed stare. "No offence, boy, but that doesn't sound like my brother," he says distantly, looking at me, but his mind somewhere else.

I shake my head at him. "It's true. The night he died, he – he saw you. There was a curse, that took over his mind, played with it, and Dumbledore – he saw you and Ariana," I tell him, leaving Grindelwald unmentioned. "He was anguished. He hoped it had been him instead," I continue, giving Aberforth a long look. "And now I understand why."

There's a short silence. Aberforth lets out a long sigh before he speaks. "It doesn't matter anymore. He's gone. They're both gone," he says tiredly. "And Albus is not here – so you don't owe him anything."

I suppress an incredulous look and clear my throat. "Nevertheless, he gave me a job, and I intend to do it. It's crucial for our success. If I don't do it, if we don't get into the castle, there might not come another chance to defeat him," I say pointedly, my voice and expression sharp.

Aberforth watches me studiously. "Oh? And my brother thought that a barely-of-age-kid can do that? Defeat him, even when my brother himself couldn't?" He asks, wariness in his eyes. "The Order's finished, boy. He's already won," He adds, looking away with a deep frown between his bushy brows. "You should run. You should both run, and never come back."

I shake my head at him, unable to believe what I'm hearing. "The Order's not finished! Not until the last member has died fighting him!" I say forcefully, my voice rising slightly. Aberforth looks at me with an unreadable expression.

"I know how to destroy him, and I'll keep fighting him, even if it means that I'll die trying," I say intently, and take a breath before adding with a calmer voice, "I will not run from him anymore."

Aberforth watches me with a contemplative look for a long moment, before he stands up and walks to the painting of his sister, his back on us, silent, thinking.

"Will you help us? Will you help us get into the castle?" I ask after a short silence, my voice tentative.

Aberforth clears his throat, and speaks with a soft voice, his words aimed at the painting, "You know what to do."

Hermione and I share a dubious glance, not really understanding what he'd meant, and then, we watch with a small surprise as the girl in the painting gives Aberforth a wide smile, before turning around and walking away.

Aberforth turns back to us. "There's only one way into the castle. There are Dementors keeping watch around the school boundaries, Death Eaters patrolling the village and school corridors. I might be able to get you in unseen, but once you're there…" Ab says, giving us a dark look, that says everything necessary. We are likely to get caught by the patrolling Death Eaters.

"What is that…?" Hermione suddenly says, watching the painting, her eyes squinting at it.

I turn to look at it too, and there's movement in it, looking like Ariana's returning back along a long tunnel.

And she's not alone.

I stare at the pair walking towards us in amazement, as Neville, of all people, limps closer, and closer, until…until the painting opens like a door, revealing an actual tunnel behind him, and my friend standing there alone, looking worse for wear, looking utterly exhausted, but grinning brightly all the same.

"Harry!" Neville says merrily, shaking his head in disbelief. "I knew you'd come!"

Neville jumps down, and throws his arms around me, laughing.

I laugh with him, relieved that he's alive, but somehow unable to completely believe that he's here, at the pub with us. "Neville, how did you get here?" I ask as I pull back, but Neville waves his hand and steps towards Hermione, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, Neville, it's so good to see you!" Hermione says, delighted.

Her brows furrow with a deep frown as she leans away from him, concern taking over the happiness in her eyes. "Neville…what happened to you?" She asks, her eyes moving over his frame.

I give her an agreeing nod, taking a look at my friend's battered exterior, the weariness in his eyes, and the deep, but mostly healed gashes on his visible skin.

Neville shakes his head a bit. "Nah, I'm fine. This was the Carrows on a good day. Seamus's worse, believe me," He says with a small wink.

Somehow, it doesn't help the uneasiness I feel.

"Let's go then, shall we? Everyone's been hoping for you to come! They'll be gobsmacked, though, that's certain!" Neville says excitedly, and then turns to Aberforth, "Oh, Ab, there might be a couple of more people coming through, now that Harry's back…"

Aberforth lets out a faintly amused grunt. "Hope they have more sense to Apparate into my pub to avoid the Caterwauling Charms than these two did!" He says, nodding at Hermione and me.

"I suppose I've no hope of taking a kip tonight…" He mutters, flicking his wand to clear the table, and then again to summon a large basket.

He hands it to Neville, "Have at it, Longbottom."

Neville gives him a grin. "Always a pleasure, Ab. Just send the people to the passage, will you?"

Aberforth waves his hand in a dismissal, "Yeah, yeah. Now get going," he grunts, opening the painting for us.

Neville walks in first, and Hermione follows him. I turn towards Aberforth. "Thank you. You saved us," I tell the man, and watch as a small frown creases his brow.

Aberforth takes in a deep breath, and gives me a nod. "Don't get caught."

Moments later, we're walking along the dark passage, only our wands bringing light and guiding our step.

"Is it awful in there, Neville?" Hermione asks, worry flickering in her expression as she studies Neville's features.

I too see now a handful of new gashes and bruises I hadn't detected at Aberforth's.

Neville sighs, glancing at us. "No worse than you have, I suppose?" He says, and then continues, "The Carrows – do you know them?"

I give him a grim nod, remembering the two of them from the Astronomy tower, remembering what Regulus had said about them.

Hermione eyes Neville with a worried look. "Are they as bad as Umbridge?"

Neville lets out a mirthless laugh. "Umbridge was merely a warm up compared to those two. The woman – Alecto – teaches Muggle Studies, which is mandatory now. You can guess what the lessons are like," He says, giving us a blank look.

Hermione's brows are pulled into a deep, bothered frown, and I swallow uncomfortably, having a good idea what they are being taught in their Muggle Studies course.

"They also love a good torture," Neville continues darkly. "Amycus, the bloke, teaches us the Dark Arts, expecting us to use Cruciatus Curse on people who have earned detentions –"

"How horrible!" Hermione gasps, and I too stare at my friend in shock.

"Yeah." Neville says heavily, shaking his head slightly as he walks ahead. "But it's clear they don't want to spill too much of pureblood. I suppose they just want everyone to know who has the power."

There's a long silence.

Then I remember it is Christmas holidays, and that we saw both Nott and Malfoy outside of school today. "How come you're here?" I ask, giving Neville a small frown. "Didn't the holidays start already?"

Hermione whirls her head towards us, "Yes – we saw Nott and Malfoy –"

Neville laughs dryly. "Perks of being a Death Eater's son, I reckon."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks with a puzzled voice.

Neville shakes his head, but not with amusement. "The holidays are cancelled. It's mandatory to stay in Hogwarts during Christmas now," He says with a deadpanned look.

"WHAT?" Hermione and I both yell at the same time, staring at our friend in utter bewilderment.

"But – but – they can't!" Hermione says incredulously.

Neville gives her a wry look. "Yes. They can. And they have," He says wearily. "A little reminder to the families who is in power, and that they ought to behave – something I reckon didn't apply to at least half of the Slytherin house."

Hermione and I both let out outraged scoffs. There's a hint of a smile on Neville's lips. "So, what about you guys?" He asks, eyeing each of us in turn carefully. "Where's Ron?" He asks, and his expression quickly turns into a terrified one. "He's not – he can't be…?"

When Hermione merely bites her lip, I quickly reply. "We believe he's all right," I tell Neville, but it manages to soothe the terror his expression only slightly.

"We got separated," I mutter, "At Diagon Alley. Ron managed to Disapparate, while Hermione and I were captured by the Death Eaters." I decide to leave Regulus out, as Neville doesn't even know about him.

Neville stops in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise and triumph as he looks at us. "You went into Gringotts?" He asks eagerly.

I nod slowly, wondering what he's thinking.

Neville suddenly whoops. "I knew it!" He yells, punching the air. "I knew it was true! You'll just wait when you see Seamus's face when he hears – he reckoned it was a rumour!"

"…Blimey," Neville mutters in amazement as we continue our walk towards the school. "Robbing a bank…ha!"

Hermione and I exchange a small grin and follow him, our shadows moving alongside on the walls.

"Have you guys heard from Luna? Or Dean?"

My step falters, the anxiousness and hopelessness flooding me once more. I'm afraid to look up at Neville's innocent eyes, and tell him the horrible news. That two of his friends are dead – killed by Voldemort's followers.

"Harry…?" Neville asks, his voice now hesitant, his steps slowing down into a stop.

I swallow hard, and glance at Hermione. She looks pained, nauseated. I clear away the sudden tightness in my throat before I look up at Neville. It's not even a bit easier than it was before. It still hurts to form the words, it still pains me to tell the news, and I'm still anguished by the thought of losing them.

Neville watches me for a silent moment, and then, "…No…" he breathes, his shoulders sagging. Tears flood his eyes, and he stands there, bruised, roughened up, but still with a hint of the familiar innocence of the Neville Longbottom I remember.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Hermione sniffs and walks up to our friend to pull him into a warm embrace, her voice wavering.

They stay like that, silent, but mourning, standing in the middle of a dark passage, and I look away. I look away, and force myself to not break down. I need to keep my head; I need to focus. That's the only way of doing this – defeating him.

After a moment, I clear my throat, reluctantly. "We should go," I say to my friends quietly, feeling somewhat anxious as my scar prickles sharply.

I know I can't let myself to drift into his thoughts, but I can't help but think what is happening. Has he found out that the shack and the cave are empty?

Neville wipes his eyes discreetly and gives us a nod. "Yeah," he says gruffly. "Let's go. We're almost there."

We walk silently in the dark tunnel, our wands throwing flickers of lights to the walls and the tunnel ahead, which starts to slope upwards, and then, as we turn a corner, the end of the passage comes to our view.

At the end of the passage, there's a door, like the one on the other end in the Hog's Head. Neville glances at us, his expression mixed with excitement and sorrow, and then, he opens the door and walks through it.

Hermione and I follow Neville out of the passage, and into a large room. There're many people, divided into smaller groups, chatting with each other, and then, one by one, they seem to notice us.

"Look who I found!" Neville yells to the room, a hint of laughter in his voice.

There are gasps, cheers, and many of them yell and whoop.

"It's Potter!"

"Harry! – "

"Harry's here! And Hermione! – "

The people gather around us, and then I realise, most of them are from the DA; Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Seamus, Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and many more.

Then, both Hermione and I are hugged by many of the room's occupants, as well as shook hands with, and pounded in the back, as if we've won a Quidditch final.

Neville urges the others to pull back slightly, and I finally manage to look around the room more carefully. "Where are we?" I ask from Neville, my eyes gliding over the several hammocks hanging from the ceiling, all in different colours, as well as the large tapestry hangings bordering the windows; embellished with Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw crests.

"The Room of Requirement, of course!" Neville says with a grin.

Seamus chuckles, stepping closer to pat Neville on the back. "Neville's really got a hang of this room. Figuring out how to keep all Carrow-supporters out, and then requested a way to get us food. Ab's been helping us out ever since," He says, beaming, nodding at the door behind us. "We were all hopin' you'd come, mate," Seamus continues, looking at me, and then around me. "Where's Ron?"

"We got separated," Hermione says quickly, stepping closer. "At Diagon Alley."

Everyone around us falls silent as they listen attentively.

"They went and robbed Gringotts, mate," Neville says, voice filled with knowing excitement as he nudges Seamus.

"You – What?!" Seamus roars, and bursts up in laughter, as do many others around us. "I mean, we thought it was only a rumour, something they put up in the Prophet and spread around to make you seem, you know – "

"Criminal?" I ask, dully.

Seamus shrugs. "It's brilliant! What were you after?" he says with a wide smile. "What do you reckon happened to Ron? Have you heard of anyone else?" He asks, his expression becoming serious, his brows pulled into a small frown.

"We think he's okay – that he got away," Hermione says, seeming somewhat anxious, and skipping Seamus's question about Gringotts. "Harry and I were caught by the Death Eaters and they didn't seem to have caught Ron and, um – "

"What?" Seamus asks quickly, his eyes widening surprise. There are many others gasping in shock. "You were caught?"

I give him a grim nod, glancing at Hermione, taking note how her lip is quivering. "Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and I – " I say, my voice dying in my throat, unwilling to say the words.

I frown hard at the floor, clearing my throat, forcing myself to continue. " – I saw…"

"Dean?" Seamus asks silently, so quiet I almost miss it.

I whirl my head back to him, watching him in mild surprise. Seamus looks anguished and weary. He knew…somehow, he knew already. With heaviness in my heart, I give him a small nod, confirming it. "I found them – Dean and Luna in the cellar I was thrown in. They were – they were…" I croak, unable to finish.

Seamus blinks away tears, looking down, as many of our classmates and the DA members learn the news and let out horrified gasps and mournful sobs. I notice Lavender and Parvati hug each other, both crying silently, and remember how the two girls often found themselves in Seamus's and Dean's company. There's a group of Ravenclaws, that look like Luna's age, looking shocked, and I wonder if Luna finally had made friends in her house, after being somewhat teased and lonely for her first four years in Hogwarts.

After a moment, Seamus looks up to me, Hermione, and Neville. He digs up a coin from his pockets. "I had my doubts," he says quietly. "We had exchanged messages for some time, throughout the summer and from the start of term. But a month ago – he stopped answering," Seamus says heavily.

Hermione lets out a shuddering breath.

Then, a sudden pain flares my forehead, and the room and its people start to disappear around me. I grit my teeth together, turning away from my friends, forcing myself to stay in present, not giving myself into his mind.

There's no use. However, this time, I'm not him – but I see him, standing in the shack, screaming in rage, destroying the room around him. His anger floods through me, taking control of me, making me gasp in pain.

And then the images of him disappear, leaving me breathless. He knows about the ring.

I turn quickly around, to face Hermione's look of concern, and the bewildered looks of Seamus and Neville.

"You okay, mate?" Seamus asks quietly, worry edged into his voice.

I clench my jaw, nodding at him. "I'm fine." I glance at Hermione, giving her a meaningful look. Trying to tell her that we have to get a move on, that Voldemort is coming.

Hermione's eyes widen a bit, and then she looks at Seamus and Neville. "Harry and I have something we need to do," she explains hastily to our friends.

"What is it?" Neville asks, his brows furrowed. "It has something to do with You-Know-Who, doesn't it? We'll help you, Harry," He says determinedly.

I breathe deeply against the still flaming pain in my scar, shaking my head with a hint of irritation. "No. I mean, we can't tell you. It's – Dumbledore left us a job to do, and he – he…"

"We're all in this together, mate," Seamus says, his eyes shining with that same determination. "We've all been fighting against the Carrows and Snape, against the Death Eaters. We're loyal to Dumbledore, and you, Harry."

There are many agreements voiced throughout the room, as people walk closer to us once more.

I grit my teeth together, and Hermione gives me a contemplative look.

"Let us help, Harry," Neville says intently, and I'm about to reply, to tell him no, but then, the tunnel door opens behind us. Familiar voices reach my ears.

I turn around, but Hermione beats me to it.

"RON!" She screams suddenly, and then, in a flurry, she's sweeps past me, throwing herself on my best friend's neck, sobbing and squeezing him closer.

My mouth falls open as I stare at my best friend, unable to believe he's there. My friend, who's accompanied by Fred, George, and…

"Regulus," I whisper, gaping at the man walking after George, whose grey eyes are fixed upon me and seeing nothing else.

"Potter," He says, a small smile flickering on his lips. "Good to see you."

I let out an unbelieving huff, and take two wide steps towards him, before wrapping him into a tight embrace.

"Ah!" Regulus hisses breathlessly, pulling back slightly, his hands clinging to my waist. "Watch it," He grunts tightly, and I see his expression distorting with pain.

My eyes widen in shock, my eyes dropping to his chest. He must be still healing.

He's healing. He's alive. I can't…I can't understand it. How the hell is he alive?

"You're – I'm sorry, I'm – fuck – " I stammer, still gaping at him. "You're alive," I breathe in amazement, my eyes roaming over his face, unable to distinguish all the feelings flooding me at the same time.

Regulus's lips twitch slightly, and I watch in amazement at the familiar motion, as if I thought I'm never going to see it – and him – again. Which I did. I did think I'm never going to see him again.

As I watch him, the feelings inside me become clearer; there's an enormous relief, taking over the despair like a large stone has been lifted from the top of my chest. I feel light, and alive, like the ache inside me has been healed, and for some reason, all this is making my eyes sting with tears, and my brows pull into a deep frown.

Regulus looks at me silently, his gaze intense and – and he too looks both tormented and relieved.

"I – I'm – " I stammer, unable to form words, unable to tell him how utterly overjoyed I am to see him. To feel him.

"I know," He mutters, his voice thick, and then, gingerly, he pulls me towards him, embracing me, a long, shuddering breath leaving his lungs. "I know, Harry."