𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐃𝐇 𝟐𝟐

It was like sinking into an old nightmare.

For a moment, Emily wasn't on the beach anymore. She was back at Hogwarts, kneeling in the rubble, clutching Eric's cold hand as the sounds of battle raged around her. Her lungs filled with smoke, her voice broke on his name. And then—

The memory shattered.

She was here.

Now.

Kneeling beside Ethan's body, crumpled and broken on the bloodstained beach. His wounds from Bellatrix's curse still fresh, his chest still, his eyes forever closed.

"Ethan..." she murmured. "Ethan..."

His name slipped past her lips again and again, even though she knew—knew he was gone, somewhere beyond reach, where no spell or scream could pull him back.

The world was moving around her, voices blurred into background noise. She barely registered Bill's voice, Fleur's footsteps, Luna's soft gasps, Dean crouching near Griphook.

Then—"Hermione?" she asked suddenly, her voice cracking as if forced through a wall of static.

"Ron's taken her inside," said Bill gently. "She'll be all right."

"Harry..." she whispered, not even sure she had the strength to ask the question.

"I'm right here," came his voice.

He knelt beside her and took her hand, grounding her, holding her.

Emily blinked down at Ethan's face. He looked peaceful, but it felt wrong. Too quiet. Too final.

The sea crashed against the rocks beyond them. She heard it like a lullaby laced with mourning, a sound she'd never forget. Around her, people talked. Plans were being made. Decisions. Actions. But Emily... she was trapped in the moment Ethan died.

"...burying Ethan," she heard Bill say faintly.

"No," she said sharply, turning her head. "My father needs to be here. He has to be here. Get him here!"

Her voice cracked like glass, and she collapsed into Harry's arms.

"It's okay," he whispered, holding her tighter than ever. "We'll get Remus. We will."

The grief was still there—endless and consuming—but it no longer burned. It was cold now. Distant. Like a storm on the horizon, echoing across a vast, empty ocean.

"I want to do it properly," she whispered, the first thing she truly meant since Ethan's heart stopped. "Not by magic. Buried properly. Peacefully."

"Emily..." Harry said gently. "We need to take you inside. You're still bleeding."

"I'm not moving," she said through gritted teeth, "until my Pops gets here!"

"He'll be here soon," Harry promised. "But Ethan would want you safe. Let me help you. Please."

Eventually, she let him.

She let them patch her wounds. She let them speak, move, decide.

But the moment she could walk again, she returned to the beach.

The place where she had lost her brother.

She sat in the same spot, staring down at the sand that was still stained dark red. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. She kept replaying their final words like a song she didn't want to forget.

"You were too good for this world, Emily."

She didn't hear Hermione approach.

Wrapped in a borrowed robe, pale as moonlight, Hermione knelt quietly beside her. She was shaky, hurt, but her voice was soft and full of care.