Gene glanced at her reflection in the pot of water that sat in the middle of the bench, listening to the radio go from static to jumbled voices. Her eyes were sunken in, red and puffy from crying each night, her skin pale and lifeless.
It was the first time in two weeks that she hadn't frightened herself with her reflection. It was normal now.
The radio didn't bother her so much anymore as the weeks passed. It helped to fill the emptiness that was Ron's absence, and even Harry seemed to accept it staying on, perhaps out of pity.
They had noticed how Ron's departure had affected Gene, of course. Gene felt terrible, knowing that she probably kept them up every night, as she cried against one of his jumpers that he had accidentally left behind. Truthfully, it completely broke their hearts as they heard Gene cry herself to sleep each night, for last two weeks.
Each day never seemed to get easier, not for any of them.
Gene would spend her days floating about the tent, silently checking on Harry and Hermione, offering tea or food when she could, before leaving and sitting at one rock in particular. It was flat and smooth, close to the cliffs edge where she could overlook the vast ocean, taking in the smell of the sea. It used to remind her of home, but not anymore. Ron left her, and she forgot what home was.
"Gene." Hermione's voice was soft, carrying across the breeze and she welcomed it as she sat on the stone beside her, their bodies huddled together. "It's getting late. Do you want to think about coming inside?" she offered.
"I won't be a minute." Gene assured her, mustering a smile as she looked over for a moment.
Hermione wasn't surprised to find Gene's eyes reddened from how much she had been crying, her skin tinged pink from the cold, and her hands close to frozen solid as she took them in her own. Gene looked at Hermione for a moment, who had been admiring the view ahead, before resting her head against her shoulder; shifting comfortably so that she was closer.
"It wasn't him saying those things. You know that, don't you?"
Hermione broke the silence, causing Gene to almost flinch. They had specifically made sure not to mention Ron again, despite her thoughts revolving entirely around him as it was. Gene appreciated the gesture anyways.
"He– well... he loves you, Gene."
Her eyes shut for a moment, those four words making her stomach turn, and she wasn't sure if it was in the good way or not. She couldn't feel those butterflies fluttering about anymore, or her heart skipping a beat when she thought of him. She felt empty and hollow, but only because she was without him.
"You think I'm lying." Hermione breathed a short laugh. "If only you knew, Genevieve."
The use of her full name caused Gene to snort a small laugh unwillingly, the first sign of any laughter in weeks, making Hermione pull away to look at Gene properly, hoping to catch sight of her smile.
"You're a ghost without him." she said, sighing softly. "You love him too."
Gene felt her throat close up at this. She couldn't possibly deny it, she knew that much, but she couldn't confirm it either. Because if she had admitted to it, out loud and to Hermione, she would have broken down completely. Her heart truly would have been Ron's to break, and she would have let him, without a moments hesitation, because the only thing worse, was to be without him.
She stood up and offered a hand for Hermione to take, without a further word. Hermione followed suit, allowing herself to be lead back to the tent, hand in hand and they faced Harry, who mustered a small, guilty smile for Gene.
Gene managed to return it, just barely before slumping into her bed, rubbing her hands together to create heat, as she breathed hot air over her skin. She began to kick her shoes off, watching as Harry continued to fiddle with the radio, only to switch the channels.
Moments later, it crackled to life, and a voice came through, only it wasn't a speech. It wasn't a list of names, or news of more murders.
It was a song.
Gene watched the smile pull at Harry and Hermione's lips and she was glad that they finally had reason to smile.
Gene began to shrug her jacket off just as a hand came into view. She gave a weak laugh when she looked up, glancing between Harry's outstretched hand and the small smile tugging at his lips with some uncertainty.
After some debating, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. He stepped closer, gently removing the locket from around her neck and tossed it to the ground, well away from all three of them. Out of sight, out of mind. They deserved that much.
Gene's head tipped to one side, watching him with a close eye as he took her hands in his own, gently swaying from side to side. She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from her chest, leaving her lips as she had no choice but to move along with him. He took her hand in one of his, the other at her waist and they danced in a circle; Gene's forehead resting against his shoulder, with Hermione watching on with a great smile.
Their shadows flickered across the canvas of the tent like shadow puppets, moving with abandon. Harry pulled away, taking her hand and twirling her as she clapped a hand over her mouth to quieten her laughter, though she did a terrible job of it.
Eventually, Harry convinced Hermione to join in, and she did so happily, because she hadn't seen Gene smile like this in a long, long time. They continued to dance with one another, twirling and smiling and swaying along to the music that played.
And soon, the song began to come to its end, the voices fading out and the music slowing as reality dawned on Gene once more. Her smile faltered, hesitating as Harry and Hermione went to twirl her a final time, and the weight of the world fell upon her shoulders again.
They hadn't noticed yet, as Hermione brought her closer, her arms wrapping around Hermione's shoulders and they slowed. Only Gene wasn't laughing anymore.
Static filled the air, and the only other sound was Gene sobbing against Hermione's shoulder. Her arms pulled around her tighter once she had realised, with Harry approaching and wrapping his arms around them even closer and they stayed like that for some time, as long as they could.
Gene pulled away, a sob racking her body as she wiped her cheek with her shoulder, feeling the warm seep into the fabric and she attempted to nod to them both. It was an attempt to assure them that she was fine, despite what they were seeing. She nodded again, this time for herself, as she approached the locket that had been discarded, having landed beneath Ron's old bed.
She lifted it over her head, pulling her hair through as it rested upon her chest. It felt like a magnet, drawing all of her fears and hopes and darkest secrets to the surface, itching to break free. Hopelessness and despair quickly began to well up within her, as the Horcruxes misery became her own.
Another morning came and brought a chill with it. The kind of chill that was usually followed by snow. It gave Gene a good feeling, for once.
The Horcrux still rested across her chest, to her discomfort. Sometimes, it felt as though its effects were worsened whenever it touched the locket that belonged to her mother. Good versus evil, or something like that.
But it was better her than Harry or Hermione.
She found them huddled in the corner of the tent, bringing two small cups of tea over as they stared intently at the book in Hermione's hand, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"Look at that symbol." Hermione said, after thanking her for the tea, and they swapped items.
Her finger was pointed to the top of a page, presenting a symbol that Gene had most certainly seen before. The triangle with a small circle inside it and a vertical line crossing through it.
"I've seen it before." Gene nodded, crouching before them both.
"Luna's dad was wearing it round his neck." Harry reminded her and she gasped, nodding again.
"Gene, I was telling Hermione..." Harry began, almost nervously, as though she was his superior, "I've been thinking. We should go to Godric's Hollow."
Gene's eyes remained on the mysterious symbol in the book that she gripped tightly in her hands, and she hummed in response, giving him a small nod of agreement.
"That sounds good." she said quietly, tracing the lines with her index finger, "It makes sense."
"It does?" Harry said with uncertainty. It was as though he didn't want her to say yes.
"The sword." she said, without a shred of doubt, to which Hermione grinned at Harry, who simply rolled his eyes at them both.
They decided that they would leave that evening, packing their things hastily and shoving them into Hermione's beaded bag before Apparating.
Gene landed after a great rush of wind, feet sinking into a thick layer of snow as they were met with golden streetlights, glimmering along a narrow road leading to the centre of town. Godric's Hollow.
She had been before, of course, recently enough. But it was different this time. There was something in the air. Perhaps, just Christmas spirit.
Christmas decorations twinkled amongst trees in the windows of small cottages, rooftops blanketed in snow, and Gene found herself hesitating to let go of Harry and Hermione's hands, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia hitting her.
"I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion." Hermione commented, glancing at a passerby.
Harry shook his head, "No. This is where we were born. I'm not returning as someone else."
He held his arm out for Hermione to take and they moved forward, with Gene trailing a little further behind, entranced by the lights and music and all of the feelings of what could have been. Should have been.
"Listen," Hermione's voice was wistful. They listened, hearing a choir, full and rich, "I think its Christmas Eve."
Gene was dumbfounded. Had it really been that long? She hadn't been keeping count, figuring that numbering the days would have only made things more daunting, as though their lives had a deadline, except hers truly did.
They stopped outside the church, stained glass glittering over them as they took their time to listen for a moment.
"Do you think they'd be in there?" Harry said, causing Gene to look at him in surprise.
She pictured Ophelia in the pews with Sirius at her side, holding a small bundle of ivory blankets, bobbing her to sleep as a children's choir sung carols. Beside them, stood Lily and James Potter, another baby swaddled in blankets in his arms.
Gene smiled.
"Yeah. I think they would." she nodded, squeezing his arm affectionately and they continued into the church grounds, toward the graveyard.
Harry pushed through a gate, letting go of Hermione's hand, to find row upon row of snowy tombstones stretched before them. He headed off in one direction while Gene studied him, glancing at Hermione before going to follow. They paused by a large tombstone freckled with lichen, eyes narrowing at the quote as Gene brushed away a layer of snow.
"Kendra Dumbledore and her daughter, Ariana." Gene crouched at the head of the grave where words had been inscribed:
Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
"Did you know he had a sister?" Hermione asked, Gene's eyes fixed on the names as she shook her head.
Gene felt Hermione brush her shoulder with a gentle hand before continuing to walk amid the stones, studying the names, before stopping by an extremely old grave. She crouched, running her hands over the snow as she peered closely. Gene walked over, seeing the symbol etched into the surface of the stone, unmistakable. The triangular eye.
"Ignotus Peverell." Hermione muttered, repeating the name as if taking inventory.
Gene's head lifted, hoping to find Harry, but instead caught a glimpse of one name in particular, a lone headstone. It was beside the one Harry stood in front of, utterly still in his place and her stomach turned.
She rounded the headstone in a daze, blinking back tears as she approached, her hand pressed to her stomach as though she was about to be sick.
Ophelia Salena Black
born 11 November 1960, died 31 October 1981
Tis in my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Gene wasn't sure if she was allowed to smile as she crouched at her mothers grave, standing above her very remains, her fingers brushing away the snow that capped the inscription.
It was a quote from Hamlet, one of Ophelia's own, and insignificant to anyone other than Gene, it felt like. Their own, little inside joke. It left a warmth in her chest, spreading throughout her entire body as though she had been engulfed in flames.
She couldn't miss the fact that her surname had been left as Black. Not Fiordalis, as proud as Gene was to hold it. But Black. Just Ophelia Black.
The tears began to fall rapidly now, leaving their indentation in the snow as Gene traced her mothers full name; unable to ignore the guilt that overtook all feelings of joy and happiness she had felt moments before, as the space beside Ophelia's grave was empty.
It had been saved, for her husband, for whenever the day was meant to have come much later on. It was meant to be years from now, for both of her parents. Long after they had Gene, perhaps even given her siblings of her own. Long after they were given grandchildren, maybe even great-grandchildren.
But Sirius was gone too. He was taken long before he could watch Gene grow up. Before he could walk her down the aisle, or hold her first child or buy them their first toy. Before Gene could even really cherish him. He was gone, and she couldn't even bury him next to his wife.
She stood to her feet now. The happiness had ebbed away and left shards of her heart in its wake, taking her place at Harry's side silently. His hand brushed against hers unconsciously, but he took it anyways, their fingers interlocking.
The soft crunch of the fresh snow beneath Hermione's shoes neared and she lowered herself to the ground, between both headstones. She drew her wand, tracing a circle in the air once over Ophelia's grave and the second over Lily and James' grave. A wreath of white roses blossomed where she had circled her wand, now decorating the headstones after having been left untouched for years.
"Happy Christmas." Harry said. He sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe at his face and only then, had Gene realised he had been crying.
Gene bit down on her bottom lip, to stop herself from crying further as her hand squeezed his, leaning her head against his shoulder and his head rested against her own.
"Happy Christmas, Harry." Hermione whispered, lacing her arm around his waist, reaching across to Gene.
They stood silently, taking a few moments to themselves for a change and Gene let her tears fall freely.