Lavinia fell apart that night for the first time since everything had gone wrong. She curled up in her bed and let it all out, muffling her sobs in her pillow because she didn't want Remus to have to deal with her grief on top of his. She didn't want him to see her cry. But cry she did. For hours, until her face was splotchy and red and her head hurt like hell and she quite simply had no more tears left.
It wasn't enough.
The hole in her chest was far from gone. The iron grip on her throat hadn't released. And the shattered feeling in her heart remained. She wondered if these things would ever go away. If it would ever be enough. If anything could ever be enough. Because... because he was gone. For good. She would never again see those grey eyes. Never again feel the soft touch of his hands or his lips. Never again hear him whisper I love you in her ear. Never never never. So many things she would never again see or do. So many things she would miss.
All the tears in the world would not have been enough.
So after that one night, she decided she wouldn't bother shedding any more. Because it would make no difference. And there was no point in crying her eyes out if in the end, she had the same aching hole in her chest, plus a headache for good measure. Instead, she made her grief become a quiet thing, tucked down by the remains of her heart in that pit in her chest. And she didn't waste time thinking about any of it.
Instead, she simply went about her days. She went to work and did her job, tuning out the words of the hit wizards comparing notes on their latest captures or chases, tuning out people's worry for her, tuning out the endless guilt and shame that pooled in her. Tuning out the world because she simply couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear any of it.
But mostly... mostly she couldn't bear herself. Those words she had spoken kept haunting her, adding the guilt that was already more than she knew how to take.
I don't want him.
So final. So... wrong. And though she knew it had been the right thing to do, though she knew any child would suffer at the very least from neglect with her as its mother right now... the words were wrong.
I don't want him.
It was the only promise Lily had ever asked for. And Lavinia... Lavinia had failed her friend. Those green eyes stalked her nightmares, staring daggers at her, condemning her with nothing more than a gaze that screamed of disappointment because Lavinia had failed. And even if the blood magic was the best protection anyone could offer...
I don't want him.
She hated herself for saying it. She hated that it was true. The last thing she wanted or needed right now was a child for whom she would be responsible, a life she would have to care for when her own hung so close to the edge these days. But true or not, she shouldn't have said it. Not like that. Not like... not like she hated the child. Even if the thought of those eyes in her everyday life made her want to scream, want to run and jump from the highest places she could find. Because the reminder of what she had lost... it might well have been the last straw.
But she still shouldn't have said it.
She kept wondering if she should apologize to Remus, or else explain herself. But, of course, she knew it wasn't Remus she wanted or needed to apologize to. It was Lily. And James. And that infant boy she had just... given away. But the child wouldn't understand any of her apologies and Lily and James... well. She didn't think apologizing to the dead would do much of anything anyway.
So she did what she had done with every other pain, and she drowned it. She shoved it down down down until it bled and blurred into the void and was just another guilt, another pain. Until she could sometimes even forget that it existed.
So so just... moved on. Or pretended to anyway. Her dreams spoke truths of how little she'd actually managed that, but during the day, things were almost normal. Life was almost normal. She went to work and she cooked and ate and slept and lived in fear of the silence that left her to think. Lived in fear of the nightmares that kept her awake no matter how exhausted she was. Which, of course, was hardly living at all, but she wasn't sure she cared.
It was hard to care, really, hard to hold on to any semblance of caring. Hard to pretend she was invested in her life. And it wasn't like the world was doing anything to help her on that front.
Every day, she scanned the papers for any sign of names she knew. Not for any sign of hope really, but just to remind herself that things were still happening. That the world still existed and there were things in it that meant something. For better or worse.
On the one hand, Death Eaters were being arrested left and right, or else fighting to the death with Aurors who came into the Mungo Bonham ward with injuries that might have made her stomach clench if she'd had the heart for it. Mulciber, Travers and Rowle were all imprisoned and Lavinia felt something almost like satisfaction at the news. It was a short, small feeling that didn't last, but it was something, she supposed. And something was all she had.
Until, on one awful day in late November when William Selwyn was sentenced to life in Azkaban. On that day, whatever small hope Lavinia had still had in the world died. Not that she thought he was innocent. No, she knew he was guilty. But he had been the last real family she had held onto, the last vestige of a life that was so far gone now it seemed laughable. He was nineteen when they carted him off to the wizard prison. Nineteen and condemned for the rest of his days. Nineteen. Just a child, really. But the world had not cared. And Lavinia... Lavinia decided that day they had the right of it. It was easier not to care. So she stopped bothering to try.
On the Order's side, things also weren't going well for all that the war was supposedly over. Benjy Fenwick was killed, brutally as well, and in early December, Lavinia came in to work to what was quite possibly the worst shift of her life. Alice and her husband, Frank, were brought in only a few hours into her shift. They had been found, apparently, by Frank's mother, on the floor of their home, tortured within an inch of their lives. This last bit became all too clear as Lavinia and Bertie hurriedly settled them and gave them restorative draughts before figuring out what to do.
Alice's lovely, round face, which graced Lavinia's mantle with endless smiles from the Potters' wedding photos, was hollow, her skin pale and clammy, like the life had been sucked out of her. Her eyes were dull beyond belief, staring at the ceiling without taking in any of it. Her husband was no batter. And Lavinia remembered with a jolt that they had a son. A son who was Harry's age. A son who was orphaned.
Something stilled in Lavinia's chest at that thought. The cost of war, she reminded herself. A cost they were not yet done paying. Might never be done paying. Because the world demanded payment for the conflict they had all brought. And that payment... it was more than they could give.
Lavinia's eyes had fallen back to Alice, then glanced at her husband, forcing herself back into the cool, unfeeling calm she so carefully maintained at work. A calm that was almost too easy to find these days. And once she was back in it, she made herself asses the situation clinically, with eyes that did not know this woman. That did not know her smile or her laugh or that she hated strapless dresses. That did not know she had a son and a life that she might never get to enjoy again.
So Lavinia studied them. Their faces were blank, their entire bodies shaking and only when the potions began to take effect did they fall unconscious. The Cruciatus Curse, almost undoubtedly. Used repeatedly and cruelly. Both Lavinia and Bertie knew without either of them saying it that there would be no coming back from this. That even if Frank and Alice survived, there would be so little left that calling it recovery would be a mockery. And indeed, within the week, they were transferred to the long term ward and Miriam informed Lavinia that they were lucky to be alive, but that was where the luck ended. It would be a miracle, she said, if either of them ever remembered their own names. If they ever remembered their son.
Lavinia hadn't replied. She knew she and Bertie had saved their lives with the potions and spells they had offered in those key early hours and she couldn't help but wonder now, if it might have been kinder to let them die. If saving them had been a cruelty, not a kindness. Because the life they'd been left with... it was hardly a life at all.
When she dared mention this to Bertie, perhaps the first time she'd spoken to him outside of work in several months, he had given her a long look, like he could see through her soul. His eyes were soft and sad and old as he said, "Plenty of people come back from living no life at all. They can too."
Lavinia had merely looked at her friend, wondering why it felt more like he had said you instead of they. And, she supposed, he was right either way. After all, the life she was living wasn't much of a life at all. And she had not cared until that moment. Actually, she still wasn't sure if she cared even in that moment because what did it matter if her life was worth anything? What did it matter if all she did was survive? She had nothing at all to live for except Remus's wellbeing. Which, she realized, she was doing a pretty bad job of ensuring. His physical wellbeing was easy. But mentally... Mentally she was doing a piss poor job. She didn't even remember when she'd last asked how he was.
When she came home, Lavinia looked Remus in the eyes for the first time in nearly a month. The gaze looking back at her was full of grief and pain and worry and she cursed herself for being so blind, cursed herself for being so selfish.
So that night, she made dinner. The motions were robotic and done more by rote than anything else, but when she set down two plates of food, one for herself and one for Remus, and met his eyes once more, something of the worry had ebbed in them, like some small weight had lifted.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, wishing she could explain that it wasn't just for these past months, that it wasn't just for being distant and cold, but also for the two mistakes she couldn't even begin to atone for.
Her fault.
I don't want him.
She pushed the thoughts away, shoved them down into the void and tucked into her food. And when the meal was over, Remus placed a hand on top of hers and she looked at him as he scanned her face.
"Thank you," he murmured. And that was real gratitude there, deep and unwavering. Like he knew that this alone was... hard. Like he knew that this had been a challenge, a feat. And appreciated every bit of work, both physical and emotional, that had gone into the simple act of making dinner. The simple act of apologizing.
Lavinia just blinked, then nodded, unable to summon words as she silently stood and took his plate and went to do the dishes. Something in the hole in her chest had flickered at his words, flickered for just a moment. Like she might actually still have a heart beating down there. Like maybe, if she felt like trying, she could still salvage something from the wreckage of her soul. Maybe.
But trying... trying hurt. Trying meant stepping into the hells she had so effectively locked away. It meant walking across the no man's land left inside of her, all for a flicker of hope that there might be something on the other side. Trying meant risking failure. And it was easier, so much easier to just leave everything where it was. To risk nothing. Feel nothing.
Sighing, Lavinia shoved those considerations away for later. Much later. For now, she set her ring to the side and turned on the tap, feeling the water burn on her hands as she washed the dishes the muggle way, keeping her hands busy, her head busy. When she was done, she picked the small band back up and looked down at it.
She shouldn't still be wearing it. Not after so many weeks. Not when looking at it made her think of his name and those words.
Remember I love you.
She did not want to remember.
But even so, she couldn't bring herself to stop wearing it, couldn't bring herself to leave it sitting in its case when she got up in the morning. And that, she realized, more than anything else, proved that somewhere in the wreckage, she still did have a heart. Because that heart... despite everything, despite the lies and the crimes and the leaving... that heart still loved him. Might well keep loving him for a long time yet. No matter how much she wished it would stop.
Lavinia slid the ring back on her finger.
Maybe one day, she would be ready to move on. Maybe one day, she would have the strength to let go. But today was not that day. So she kept the ring on and put her strength to a different task.
Late that night, well after Remus was asleep, Lavinia sat at her desk, and stared at the papers she had not been able to bring herself to move or dispose of in the month that had passed since... since he had left. She looked through them one more time, brushed a finger over his signature. Sirius Black. Messy and nearly illegible as his name, but it was there. That little scrawl of ink that had been a promise. A promise of forever.
Remember I love you.
And she would. Eventually. Even if sometimes, she wondered if his leaving meant he hadn't. Even if it was easier, right now, to forget. She would remember one day, would remember what that felt like. And maybe when that day came, she would cherish it. Or maybe that would be the day she was ready to move one. Because even if she remembered he loved her... he had left. And she needed to accept that, needed to stop pretending he might reappear at her door one day like nothing had ever changed.
So Lavinia picked up her wand and set those papers on fire.
Sirius Black was sick of the chains. He was sick of the stupid uniform too, made from its itchy cotton. Another small misery that the dementors no doubt delighted in. He had discovered this trick barely a week after he had been thrown in this cell to let darkness and despair consume him. If he focussed on the little pains, if he fed the dementors his small miseries, they usually left the larger ones alone. Like a shield of pain, to keep them from the hells he knew they would glut themselves on if they got a whiff of them.
And sometimes, he slipped. Sometimes they smelled her name in his thoughts and her face would be the only thing he saw for hours and hours as those creatures, those monsters, drank deep on the guilt and the grief and the awful awful pain her name always brought about.
Lavinia.
He had never thought he would miss something as simple as saying her name. But he did. He missed that and a million other things he had taken for granted and shouldn't have. Her smile. Her laugh. That teasing smirk that made his heart go a million miles an hour. He missed it all. He missed her little snort, when she was almost to laughter but not quite. He missed the way she rolled her eyes and shook her head. He missed the cleverness of her mind, the quickness of her wit, the kindness of her soul. He missed all of her. Because he loved all of her.
And every time the dementors caught thoughts of her, caught the misery of remembering her and knowing he would never see her again, they feasted. It might have been a mercy or a cruel twist of fate that they couldn't take her away. Because she wasn't a happy thought. For all that memories of her smile were bright things he would have held dear, things the dementors would have stolen and drowned in his own pain, the thought that he would never see her again was a wicked, cruel thing. And those wicked cruel things were what they always left him with until his guilt and grief were all that kept him company through day and night.
But still he held onto her, held onto the desperate need to explain to her, to beg her to forgive him. To tell her he was innocent.
Innocent.
Another thought they couldn't take away because it wasn't happy. He was innocent and yet, his innocence damned him. He should have been the secret-keeper, should have been the only one who could have ever been guilty of betraying James and Lily.
James and Lily.
Their faces were fading for him. Most days, his grief was all that was left of those memories. Because he had not been the secret-keeper. He had convinced them to use Peter. Had convinced them to turn their trust to someone else. And he had unknowingly handed them to Lord Voldemort. But he had not known. And in that alley when he had found Peter... the little rat had staged it all. Had blown out a street and Sirius had been surprised enough that all he could do was laugh. That there were no thoughts in his head but blank shock. And by the time he had realized that he needed to fight, needed to prove his innocence and run home to Lavinia... it had been too late.
Innocent.
And yet not. Guilty in so many ways, but not responsible for those lives lost. Not the one who had given up the secret.
Innocent.
And even the Dementors could not take that away from him. Just as they couldn't take away her face.
So he thought of them, obsessed over them until in the midst of every hell they made him relive, in the midst of memories of his mother's beatings, of that night on the Astronomy Tower, of the battlefields at the front lines of the war... they were all that was left. The knowledge of his innocence and Lavinia's lovely face, her earnest eyes. Until, as the days stretched into weeks and months and eventually years, those two things, not happy, but not awful either, were his lifelines, until they braided and became one. A rope that might lead him out of the darkness if he held on long enough, if he survived long enough, if he waited for the right moment.
He was innocent.
And he could still see her smile. Would see it again in person one day.
Because he would get out. He would not die here, without explaining to her that he had not betrayed them, that his mistakes had been just that - mistakes. So he would get out. He would get out and explain to her and maybe while he was at it, he would hunt Pettigrew down and make him pay. For James. For Lily. For Harry, left orphaned. And for Remus and Lavinia, left all alone in the world, believing he had betrayed them. Believing he had lied.
So Sirius Black waited and waited and waited for the right day to come. So he could finally escape. So he could finally finally go home. So his lovely Lavinia would only have to remember for a little while. Until he could say it again in person. Until he could remind her, face to face, that he still loved her. Would always love her.
So Sirius Black waited. And he bided his time in the darkness of Azkaban, holding tight to his innocence and tight to Lavinia Selwyn's smile.
A/N: Okay, so this one wasn't happy either but I promise the next one is better. And I'm not just saying that, it's actually true.
Also, school starts for me tomorrow (booo...) and I honestly don't know how much time I'll have for anything at all really because as we've covered, I'm doing way too much. And also sleep is a thing I will need. I should really already be in bed, but I went to my brother's apartment and we ate donuts outside while standing six feet apart, as you do, and then it was late and I hadn't edited yet and it kinda spiraled. But I have to be up at 8:30 tomorrow. So that's bad. My current plan is this: I will update tomorrow for sure. If I manage to write a chapter tomorrow, then I'll update the next day as well and we'll basically play this week by ear. If I write a chapter, then I'll update the next day. If I don't... well. I won't update the next day. I'm guessing I won't be able to keep up an every day update thing along with school work, bc that's a pretty big ask, but I'm hoping to be able to make an actual sort of update schedule? Like, my Tuesdays and Thursdays are stupidly long (like 9-5 basically), so maybe a Monday, Wednesday, Friday thing? Basically I don't know what I'll be doing and I won't know until the end of the week, but I'll keep y'all in the loop and we'll figure this out by next weekend, hopefully.
Anyway, as usual, I hope y'all enjoyed and I'll be back again tomorrow!