You Only Live Once

CHAPTER 42

The air on the roof of Potter Manor was biting, a sharp contrast to the suffocating stillness inside the house. For a week, the silence had been their only companion. It wasn't a peaceful silence; it was heavy and jagged, like broken glass.

"You haven't eaten" Sirius said, his voice raspy from disuse.

"Neither have you" Mira replied.

She didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, waiting for the first pinprick of light to puncture the dark. It had been seven days since the news of Evan and Regulus broke. Seven days since the world lost its color. The funerals had come and gone, events they were barred from attending. The injustice of it burned in Mira's throat. She wanted to be there. She wanted to scream at the mahogany caskets, to demand answers from the cold earth. She needed to see them lowered into the ground to believe they were truly gone.

Sirius felt the opposite. To him, an unseen death was a reversible one. If he didn't see the body, if he didn't hear the dirt hit the wood, then Regulus was just away. He was at school, or at Grimmauld Place, or hiding. As long as the funeral remained a rumor, his little brother stayed alive in the quiet corners of his mind.

They spent their nights on the shingles of the roof. It was the only place where the walls didn't feel like they were closing in.

"You came up here earlier than usual today" Sirius noted. He was leaning against the chimney, looking frayed at the edges.

"I needed some air" Mira said.

"Ro..." Sirius sighed. He knew her better than that. When Mira needed air, she went to the garden. She went to the old wooden swing and kicked her legs until the wind stung her eyes. The roof was reserved for the heavy lifting—the thoughts she couldn't carry while standing on solid ground.

"I found a note Reg left me" she admitted, her voice trembling just enough for him to catch it. "It was tucked into one of my books. The one about star charts he always used to borrow."

Sirius went still. The mention of his brother's name usually acted like a physical blow, but this was different. This was a voice from the grave. He hesitated, his fingers twitching toward his pockets. They had both been so volatile lately. Just the day before, Sirius had nearly hexed James into next week just because James had used his favorite silver spoon at breakfast. Every small thing felt like a personal attack.

"What did it say?" he asked quietly.

Mira cleared her throat, the sound loud in the night air. She pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her back pocket. The edges were soft from her thumbing over them. She began to read, her voice gaining strength as the words flowed.

"Dear Mira. I'll keep this short. Right now you're sitting on the couch in our common room with Evan and you're laughing about Merlin knows what. You're so beautiful when you laugh. Have I ever told you that? How beautiful you are? I realized that with the war going on I might never be able to tell you some things in person or ever for the matter. You're really special and I'm sorry I never made you feel this way. Truth is, most of the time I battled with my own feelings for you, denying every last bit of emotion. I don't know if I'm alive by the time you read this, Mira. I might be right next to you and we're laughing together. One thing I now know is that I love you. Very much so. And you want to know how I'm sure? Somehow you made fighting and staying alive important. So I can see you again. I know what you'd say. 'Come and say it in my face you coward' and I wish that one day I will. I love you, I miss you. I'm sorry. RAB"

When she finished, the only sound was the wind whistling through the eaves. Sirius was staring at her, his jaw literally hanging open. He remembered them at school—the constant bickering, the way Regulus would roll his eyes at Mira's jokes, the sharp disagreements over house points. He had seen them as friends who barely tolerated each other on a good day.