The Contract

Chapter 139

The Contract

Chapter 139

Corvus felt completely overwhelmed, tears he could not hold back rolling down his cheeks. Oh, she was so beautiful, and her voiceoh, it was so lovely to hear something different than the usual memories he had re-watched over and over again. Memorised that he could recite them – and actually did – as he watched the pensive memory.

Corvus' right hand rose up again, hovering over the painting as if desiring nothing more than to touch her. Yet refraining from doing so, because he didn't wish to touch paint, instead of his actual wife. "I am so sorry," Corvus murmured, "I failed in keeping my promise to you." He sought out his handkerchief in his pocket, and wiped away the tears, which were promptly just replaced.

He thought his sons being released from Azkaban would be the greatest of feelings he'd experience. For he had been sure nothing could possibly replace it. Perhaps the birth of his first grandchild, but, oh, what a fool he'd been. For nothing could surpass this. His beautiful treasure returned to him. How often had he wished for this moment? How often had he despaired over the fact they'd waited to create portraits? So, so foolish, and his sons had been deprived of knowing their mother as a result.

He'd never be able to repay Harry for this. For it was priceless. All his fortune, his estate paled in comparison.

"What on Circe's green earth are you apologising for?" Rosamund asked, yes, she'd watched over her family, but that did not make her privy to their every thought. Yes, her husband spoke often in front of her still portrait – which would likely be making a swift exit – but she wasn't always there for it and it didn't happen every day.

"I swore to protect our sons," Corvus trembled in front of her, the shock of being able to talk to her almost too much for his body to bear. He touched the portrait, the pads of his fingers brushing reverentially over her features. She was perfect, even the small mole at the side of her nose was remembered. "I failed most abhorrently." The confession lay thick on his tongue, making him feel sick.

"Oh, Corvus, still taking on the burdens of the world onto your own shoulders," Rosamund sighed, shaking her head, "Desist with the dramatics! Our sons were adults and they acted impulsively." Giving them a look watching them blanch at her.

"Mother is right, we're responsible for our own actions," Rodolphus replied, he knew nothing would stop his father feeling guilty for what happened to them. You could see it in his eyes, and it made him wish they hadn't done it, well, gotten caught really, but same difference.

"It's time to move on, let the past be the past, if Harry can forgive and forget, you can too." Rabastan pointed out, "We've lost out on too much of our lives to become overwrought." Maybe their father should have joined then in getting help from a mind healer. Not that he didn't sometimes dwell, it's impossible not to, they just didn't want it to keep overwhelming him.

"Oh, Corvus, my love, there's nothing to forgive, you raised them so well, if anything I should be apologising, I'm so sorry I left you to do it alone." She herself had watched over them feeling wretched at her inability to help. Her inability to help her husband, help her sons. It had not been easy watching them wither away in Azkaban prison.

"I have missed you most ardently," Corvus told her, his face soft in a way that even his own sons had never seen. A look that only his treasure ever got to cross his features. "There is so much I want to say, I scarcely know where to begin." They had over two decades of catching up to do.

Rabastan and Rodolphus shared a wide-eyed look. They'd never seen their father look at anyone like that before. It made them want to 'Ew' and rush out of the room. Fortunately, they knew it was only a portrait – and their mother to boot – so merely watched, and became a little mesmerised as they did so.