Constellations of Black

Chapter 71

Regulus sat on his knees, the cold seeping through his trousers as the snow melted beneath him. The feeling went to the back of his mind, the cold seeping further into his heart. He gently wiped at Anna's gravestone, staring longingly at her name. Snow clung to her engravings, a stark contrast to the weathering her gravestone had endured since his last visit. Every breath was crisp, leaving him in a small cloud, only to disappear into nothingness—nothing like their dream of raising the twins together.

"Merry Christmas, my love," Reg mumbled, his words floating away with his cloudy breaths into the December air.

He traced the letters of her name with his gloved fingers, his touch light as if afraid that pressing too hard would erase what little he had left of her. The memories flooded back—her laugh, her smile, the warmth and happiness that once radiated off her like ocean waves. He had learned too late that even the purest intentions couldn't shield those he loved from the darkness that consumed them.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice breaking on the words, "The children miss you as well."

Regulus hung his head, staring at the soft grey sky. Unshed tears stung his eyes as he tried to keep his composure.

"I feel horrible but I left the twins in the dark. There was an attack on a Ministry official a few nights ago. Severus and McGonagall wrote to me- the twins are worried sick but they're with Sirius and the Weasleys... The bloody Weasleys," A bitter laugh escaped his lips, "Watch over them when I can't, will you love? Severus has enough to deal with."

Regulus frowned, leaning his head against the stone. The cold comforted him, having grown up in a cold house. He sighed deeply, basking in the silence of the graveyard. No one else was there- muggles and wixen alike all too busy celebrating Christmas with their living relatives.

Celeste and Romulus landed on the balcony railing, hooting and shaking the snow off their wings. Lyra stood, smiling at the familiar birds.

"Hello loves, I know it's snowy," Lyra held out her free hand of breadcrumbs as an offering. The owls began to gently peck at her palm, accepting what the witch had.

"Romulus, I need you to take this to Augusta Longbottom, please. And Celeste, this to Narcissa Malfoy," Lyra watched as both owls accepted their letters, turning around to take off.

"Good luck," She murmured as the owls gracefully took off.

Lyra stood in the drawing room, staring at the tapestry. Sirius hadn't concealed Lyra, Cetus, or their mother's part of the tree beside Regulus. Kreacher carefully tidied the room, trying not to disturb his young Mistress.

She bit her lip; who would she run to if they both allowed her in their home? Her grandmother whom she knew far too little about? Or her father's cousin and a known Death Eater?

"I can't understand why you don't want to wear it, Ronald," Hermione's voice rang out from the staircase. Lyra looked over to see Harry and Cetus following behind Ron and Hermione.

"I look like a bloody idiot, that's why," Ron responded.

"No more than usual, Ron."

Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, focusing on her mother's name on the wall. 1961-1981. Harry and Cetus peeked into the room; Harry had never seen it before, not like the twins had.

"Nasty brat, standing there as bold as brass," Kreacher mumbled at Harry, "Harry Potter, the boy who stopped the Dark Lord. Friend of Mudbloods and blood-traitors alike."

"Kreacher," Cetus tried to warn, not liking how his house elf treated his friend.

Lyra kept her back to the situation, frowning. Kreacher was correct, Harry was a friend to mudbloods and blood traitors, but he was also not a pureblood anyway.