the haunting | regulus black

0. prologue

September 18, 1983

Llewyn Lionel O'Donoughue laid on his deathbed, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids. On his right side, his daughter held his hand, tears streaming down her face. Her husband was kneeling beside her, grasping his wife's shoulder in support, bowing his head in respect for his father-in-law. He could feel his small grandchildren curl against him, giving him warmth and comfort. Bill on his right, and Lucy's red hair splayed on his sterile, white hospital shift on his left. On the left of his hospital bed, his granddaughter (the one member of his family that resembled his late wife's spirit the most and the one that kept asking for his stories when she was too old for them) knelt at his side grasping his hand for dear life, murmuring prayers into his skin (even if she didn't really believe in any divinity anymore).

He felt loved and safe, cherished.

I wish you could see this Saorise, but I'll be with you soon. He thought.

Still, something was nagging at him, something that wouldn't let him reach his peace.

"W-where's Matthew?" Matthew. His first grandchild. With his messy dark hair and dirt-crusted cheeks, and his countless freckles. He taught him how to fight when the bullies wouldn't let up even when his daughter disapproved. Where is he? "W-where is he?"

He shifts himself slightly to lean towards his granddaughter who is mouthing the Lord's Prayer into his paper-thin hands. Alice and Matthew. So inseparable even when they were eight years apart. After all, Matthew taught her how to fight, an O'Donoghue family tradition. His mouth quirked at the corners when he thought about it.

If he could open his eyes, he would see Alice clasping his hand tightly as tears glazed her large green eyes, giving her mother a panicked look.

Her mother gave her an equally perplexed look, but she quickly looked back to her grandfather, not wasting anytime.

He felt her lips kiss his hand, and he smiled at the gesture, waiting for her to continue her explanation. "Matthew has always been late, but he's coming soon Grandpa! You'll see him again!" Her voice sounded overly cheery and desperate. " I promise! I promise!' It felt like she was searching for absolution that he couldn't give.

He could feel something wet on his left hand. "Oh don't cry my child. It's my time, my sweetheart." He brought her hand to his lips kissing her soft and dainty hand. "I love you my dear, d-don't forget your g-grandmama's spirit, y'hear?"

With the last of his strength he shifted towards the center and brought his daughter's hand to his lips for the last time. "I love you, Rosie. My precious girl." I hope you can forgive me for my sins and my mistakes, like I have forgiven yours. "I love you so very much."

He pulled his hand away in order to ruffle Bill's hair again, and stroked Lucy's wildfire hair.

He closed his eyes, and waited for Matthew to come.

It felt like he was falling asleep.

"Grandpa, rest now. You must be tired."

Llewyn knew that voice. He opened his grey eyes, and there was his grandson smiling down at him. There were the lucky freckles that he knew and that bright, mischievous smile that was much like his own. Alice was right! He came!

"Matthew!" He cried. He could hear a gasp and a faint sob, but it sounded like it was from a faint distance, like it was happening in another room.

"You always were late." A new voice was added, but Llewyn definitely knew that voice anywhere.

He turned his head quickly to see his long departed wife. "Saoirse?" He whispered. This Saorise he knew was not the one that he last saw. This was the Saoirse that he met at nineteen, and she was a mere sixteen year old.