Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XXXV

What makes a parent? Is it biology, genetics, blood? Is it love, kindness, support? There is no concrete definition of what a parent is, and its an individual experience. Those legally or biologically determined to be parents may be the farthest thing from it. People with absolutely zero obligation to act as a parental figure or even care for someone may be the thing closest to a parent for people.

You can have a wonderful home life with incredible parents and still see another person as a fellow parental figure. No matter what the situation is within someone's life, everyone deserves a person they can rely on and go to for the advice a parent can give. It can be in any shape or form; a friend or teacher, it doesn't matter.

No matter its form, losing this person in your life is the most heart-wrenching and painful process. You lose that sense of orientation and understanding of your surroundings. Something becomes missing, something you held so precious and held so tightly to your chest. The loss of someone to death is a pain that cannot be described through words, cannot be put into sentences and is not grammatically coherent.

It's a mix of words and feelings in a soup that is inedible. Nothing in the world can describe what that feeling does to a person. You can paint it, write it, or scream it–but none of these genuinely capture that anguish, pain, and guilt. The feeling that it should have been you should have been anyone else but them. They didn't deserve it; they weren't ready. You would switch places with them instantly; you would bring them back to life with the wails of a million souls.

But they can't come back. They can't return to you. They never left, though; they're always there. They are always watching just a few steps in front of you. Those people wait for you to take those final steps and wrap you up in their embrace when your time has come, and it's okay for you to depart from the world you once knew.

It's okay if they don't come back because you'll find them again. But that doesn't stop the hurt from spreading like a disease.

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Regulus left the morning after, wanting to make sure Lyra made it through the night after they tested the theory about her secrets. He had stayed on her floor while she and Sirius lay in bed, wrapped tightly in their arms as a new sense of understanding encompassed them. When he left in the morning, Lyra knew things were okay. There was no tension while they ate breakfast, no weird feelings surrounding them. The only awkwardness came from the Black brothers themselves, who hadn't spoken alone about what was shown.

Lyra didn't want to be a divide in their relationship, but she also knew it was far from fair for her to force them into talking about it. It was no doubt painful for Sirius to see the girl he loved wrapped in the sheets with his younger brother, whispering the exact words she said to him. Lyra wondered if Regulus felt similar, watching from afar as his brother found the true love he deserved and longed for.

But the past was unchanging, and Lyra could not take back the things she said or did. Sirius knew that better than anyone, and every few hours when they lay awake that night, he whispered an apology. She didn't need him to apologize anymore; he had done it more than enough times over the few months together. But she knew it was also his way of trying to forgive himself and work through the pain he had caused.

But Sirius's guilt was the least of Lyra's upcoming worries. Even the Dark Lord retracting his talons nearly went unnoticed as the door opened and her parents returned. Or perhaps, the shell that was her parents.

"Mum?" James whispered as the four that stayed in the manor wandered to the front door to greet the Potters, "You okay?"

Lyra felt her entire stomach knot into something impossible. Euphemia Potter had a green tinge to her skin that resembled a plant, mirroring onto Fleamont less aggressively. Red dots appeared along both of their arms, but Euphemia may have been turned red along with green at the state she stood in. It was something Lyra could only imagine in her nightmares, watching her two previously healthy parents wander in nothing more than husks. No one seemed to breathe as the realization dawned on them, not wanting to accept the reality before them. Lyra felt her stomach curl once more, and she turned as green as her mother, the threat of vomiting became apparent as reality set in quickly.