Sirius stands at the highest point of the castle, up in an open tower that looks over all of the Hallow, a tower that might have been good for star-gazing on clear nights.
All it's good for now is watching the ash rise.
Years later, this is the memory that will always be the most vivid to Sirius. The soot of war's aftermath. Ash stirred in the wind, floating up, up, up—and then away. He thinks of the dream he had where he and Regulus would jump from the roof of their childhood home to fly to their stars, so real to him that it felt more like a memory than a dream at all, but it was never possible for it to be reality. Strange how reality and dreams blend together when life and death do. Some of those ashes on a journey to stars are from buildings that collapsed in the midst of war, and some are from people who did the same.
Some of those ashes could be Marlene.
Sirius exhales shakily and wrings his fingers together, rolling his knuckles against each other, hiding the way his hands still shake. They haven't stopped. He can't make them stop.
Down below, people look like ants in the distance, all rushing around like they've spilled out of a broken open anthill. They crawl about, spreading farther and farther, all those willing to keep going —or just those who can't bear to stop—delegated to post-war efforts. Cleanup crews. Groups who have to collect the dead. Teams sent out to search for those no one can find.
What comes after a war ends is almost as exhausting as the war itself. There are a lot of people who have tapped out, and there are plenty who have been ordered to tap out, after all they gave in the war. Sirius tapped out in the middle of war and didn't find his way back to himself until he was standing across from Dorcas with a ring burning into the skin of his palm, and he has no desire to tap back in, not anymore.
Everyone with minor injuries have been healed up now, with those with more extensive injuries shipped off to a Hallow hospital. Sirius has thankfully been cleared to heal on his own. They checked him over, gave him proper medical treatment, but he got off rather light from the landmine, compared to—
In any case, Sirius will have a new scar, while sitting down and standing up still hurts a bit, and he's a little slow-going at the moment, but he's okay. Physically, he's okay. That's it, though.
No one's okay now, not really.
The sound of the door creaking makes Sirius tense up, his head whipping around as his muscles bunch up under his skin in preparation, and they stay that way as he watches Regulus slip inside.
"How'd you know I'd be here?" Sirius asks, and Regulus jolts, his head snapping up, visibly startled.
Regulus exhales and says, "I didn't."
"Oh," Sirius murmurs, then swivels back around to lean on the rail again, peering out over everything. Regulus comes to join him, moving as silently as he always does, like his feet don't even touch the floor. When he stops next to Sirius, he makes a low noise of distaste as he checks the distance to the ground, frowning down over the rail before shuffling closer to Sirius like it's an instinct. It's sweet. It almost brings Sirius to tears.
"It's, um." Regulus halts, struggling with words as he often does and always has, except when he's being harsh. He sighs and gingerly leans against the rail, possibly just so they can press their arms together. It's a solid weight and warmth that Sirius wants to shy away from. "Just—it's a bit overwhelming. In there. With...everything. So, I—I wanted to—"
"Get away?"
"Yeah, guess so. You?"
Sirius blows out a deep breath, eyes sinking shut as he hangs his head forward. "Something like that."
