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Josephine blinks awake, greeted by the gentle embrace of sunlight filtering through her curtains. A soft yawn escapes her lips as she slowly rises from her slumber.
Her gaze instinctively seeks out Regulus, only to find his side of the bed vacant, the sheets cold. A furrow forms between her brows. Perhaps he has already ventured downstairs? The absence feels peculiar, as if he has been gone for longer than just a moment.
Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, Josie's attention is drawn to a neatly folded letter resting on the bedside table. The sight of Regulus's familiar handwriting causes her heart to quicken its pace.
With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, she reaches for the letter, fingers trembling slightly as she unfolds it to reveal its contents.
My love,
I am sorry. I am sorry for causing you pain once again. The dark lord, Voldemort, has created a horcrux, a dark object that must be destroyed.
And I intend to do just that.
I do not think I will survive this, Josephine. And so, I write to you now, to spare you the burden of unanswered questions.
Know that I love you deeply. You have been my beacon of light, guiding me through the darkest of times. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you in our first year, your beauty leaving me breathless. And in our fifth year, your smile had the power to make my heart skip a beat.
You have changed me in ways I never thought possible, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
As I embark on this perilous journey, I pray for your happiness. For when the horcrux is destroyed, Voldemort's grip on the world will loosen, and true peace may be within reach.
I never wished to bring you into this turmoil. You deserved far better than what I could offer. May you find the love and happiness you so rightfully deserve.
Yours always,
R. A. B.
No.
No.
No.
The word echoes in her mind, a desperate plea to halt the inevitable. Her heartbeat thunders in her chest, each thud a painful reminder of the reality she now faces.
Earlier that year, she glimpsed him with that cursed book. The regret gnaws at her—she should intervened, should have prevented him from delving into its dark contents.
Fuck.
Regulus is only aware of one horcrux.
Fuck.
This can't be happening. Josephine leaps out of bed, her movements hurried and clumsy as she nearly stumbles over the carpet.
"Regulus!" she cries out, her voice tinged with desperation, clinging to a desperate hope that this is all some sick joke, a twisted fabrication. Maybe he's just wandering the house, she prays.
