SHE'S ALL THAT ➭ SIRIUS BLACK ❨2❩ ✔︎

ACT SIX, SCENE THREE

FONTAINE MANOR

SAGE CELESTE FONTAINE
31 OCTOBER, 1959—18 JUNE, 1996
SISTER, MOTHER, WIFE, FRIEND
❝COWARDS DIE MANY TIMES BEFORE THEIR DEATHS. THE VALIANT NEVER TASTE DEATH BUT ONCE.❞

The group standing in front of the marble headstone was a miserable one: a former Death Eater, two married couples, an alcoholic, a French fortune teller, and two children.

Harry stood between Regulus and Anna-Lee, all of them wearing black as they stared at the grave.

It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. Nothing felt real about this—Sage Fontaine, dead, six feet under. Regulus hadn't let Harry be there when she was buried, but he knew she was under the dirt, in her pristine and perfect casket.

Margot Laisser felt like she didn't belong there.

Rowan Silvers felt alone, her only true companion the flask in her pocket.

Maia felt empty.

Remus felt like he'd lost nearly everyone.

Anna-Lee felt like the only living connection to her best friend was standing right beside her.

Noah felt like his daughter had lost a second mother.

Regulus felt utterly deserted. The Black name would die with him, and his best friend and brother had vanished in one single night.

Madeleine hadn't stopped crying.

And Harry...Harry couldn't look at the grave. He kept his eyes trained on the sky, watching as the rain clouds swept over the estate. Everything felt wrong, and for a few moments, he was certain that he'd vomit.

"Should...should someone say something?" Margot asked hesitantly, her words lilting through her thick French accent. "Is that what you all do at funerals?"

Rowan hiccuped, and it sounded suspiciously like a sob. "You barely knew her. It's not up to you to say anything." She snapped. Her resolve broke, and she dug into her pocket to grab the flask of muggle booze. She took a hearty swig.

Maia wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Ro, stop."

With a sigh, Regulus cleared his throat. "She's right, Rowan. We should say something."

"She didn't want speeches." Harry muttered. "She didn't want a funeral. She'd hate this. Just because she's not here to tell you herself doesn't mean that you get to go against her wishes."

Rowan, drunk and crying angry tears, shoved away from the rest of the group. "I can't do this. I—she was just starting to be happy, for the first time in a long time. I deserve to be able to mourn her."

They all watched her go, watched her storm up to the house and slam the front door behind her.

Madeleine clung to her mother's hand. She was on the verge of turning seventeen, which meant, according to her godmother's will, that she would be inhereting twenty five million galleons in just a few months. She knew why Sage left her the money—Sage had been the only person Madeleine confided in about her dreams of traveling the world, tracking down lost artifacts, civilizations, and creatures, and writing about her experiences. Even her own mother didn't know about her hopes and dreams.

Madeleine had hoped, once all of this was over, that Sage would be accompanying her on these trips. They had planned it all out—once the war was won, they'd travel for at least a few weeks, just to see if Madeleine liked it.

It felt strangely fitting, however, that Sage was there to see Madeleine be born, and Madeleine was there to see Sage die.

Life worked in cruel, mysterious ways, apparently.