Chapter Text
The rain hadn’t let up in hours.
It beat against the windows of St. Mungo’s like fists demanding entry, matching the grim exhaustion on every face in the hallway. The Order was scattered along the pale green corridor like wreckage—muddy boots tracking the filth of war onto the polished floors, robes singed at the hems, blood-streaked and bandaged, shoulders sagging beneath the weight of another night survived. Another raid completed. Another list of names shortened or crossed out entirely.
James Potter leaned against the wall, wand tucked behind his ear, knuckles bruised and face drawn. He was watching Lily as she argued with a mediwitch over Frank’s chart—Lily always had to see it for herself. Frank sat slouched in a conjured wheelchair nearby, white-knuckling the arms like they might float away without him.
Fabian and Gideon were slumped on the bench across the hall, identical grimaces carved into their mouths, heads lolling back as they listened to Marlene complain about the taste of Blood-Replenishing Potion. Peter paced. Alice fussed over Mary’s sprained wrist. Remus was quiet, sitting with his knees pulled up in the corner, his eyes vacant.
Sirius hadn’t said a word since they got there.
He hadn’t needed to.
They’d made it out. Barely. Just barely.
Then—
Footsteps.
A stagger. A scrape of something rough against linoleum.
They turned at once, instinct thrumming in their bones, hands twitching to wands they hadn’t sheathed.
A young man had emerged from one of the far halls—clearly in shock, grey-eyed and pale as milk, bloodless in the face, trembling. The Order froze. For a second no one breathed. Then James swore under his breath.
“Is that—?”
Sirius straightened slowly, eyes narrowing.
It was him.
Regulus.
Hair darker than ever, longer now, grown out and curling at the nape. Clothes crumpled, hands clenched at his sides. His expression blank, like his soul had been scraped out with a spoon. His knees buckled as a nurse trailed after him, whispering something soft and helpless—but Reg didn’t seem to hear her.
And then, all at once, he shattered.
His knees hit the floor with a crack. His hands flew up to his face, and a sob ripped out of him that didn’t sound human. It was wild. Ugly. Raw grief clawing its way out of his lungs like it needed the air more than he did.
“What the fuck—” Marlene started.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Fabian muttered, already stepping forward.
James reached for his wand. “If he’s here to cause something—”
“He’s crying,” Lily said, quiet. Confused.
“Death Eaters cry too,” Peter hissed.
But Sirius didn’t hear any of them. His eyes were on the boy—no, the man—curled into himself on the polished hospital floor, shaking apart. His baby brother. His baby brother, who he hadn’t seen in nearly ten years. His baby brother who had disappeared, vanished off the map, who he’d spent years hating and loving and missing and pretending not to remember.
Sirius took a step.
“Padfoot,” Remus warned softly, but didn’t stop him.
Sirius kept walking.
One foot after the other. Steady. Cautious. As if approaching a wounded animal. Regulus didn’t look up. He just kept sobbing, body heaving, nails clawing at the tiles as if he could dig himself a hole and disappear.
Sirius crouched beside him, slowly.
“Reg?”
The reaction was instant. Regulus’s whole body jolted. He jerked his head up, bloodshot eyes wide and swimming, tear-streaked face crumpling when he saw who was there.
“Sirius,” he gasped.
His voice was wrecked. Hoarse and cracked and strangled.
Sirius swallowed. “What… what are you doing here?”
Regulus opened his mouth—but nothing came out. He made a sound, a wordless sob, and flung himself forward. Sirius caught him by instinct, arms coming around him like they’d never forgotten how.
“Shhh—hey—hey, it’s okay—Reg, what’s wrong?”
“He’s gone—he’s gone—he’s just—he just—collapsed and I—I couldn’t—Sirius, I couldn’t—” Regulus choked out, voice cracking as his hands clawed at Sirius’s sleeves.
Sirius looked over his shoulder, panicked. “What is he talking about?”
“Who’s gone?” James asked, stepping closer.
Regulus let out a strangled, broken cry, fists pounding once against Sirius’s chest.
“My husband!”
The hallway went silent.
Even the nurse looked startled.
“…Your what?” Mary said, blinking.
“Your what?” Gideon echoed, more shrill.
Regulus didn’t hear them. He was sobbing too hard.
“I woke up this morning and he was fine—we had breakfast, he made tea—he was smiling—he was fine—” Reg wailed. “And then he just—he just collapsed. In the kitchen. I—I tried—I didn’t know what to do—I tried everything—I tried to get help and—and then they—they brought him here and they—”
His breath caught on a sob so sharp it sounded like it split him in half.
“They said it was his heart—an aneurysm—they said it was too late—they couldn’t—he’s gone—he’s just—he’s gone—”
Sirius pulled him closer. “Fuck. Reg. Regulus, breathe—”
“I can’t—I can’t—I don’t know what to do—I don’t know what to do—”
“You’re married?” Lily blurted, eyes wide.
James shoved her gently. “Not the time, Evans.”
“Wait, what the hell—?” Marlene looked back at the rest of the group. “Did any of you know he was married?”
“No!” Peter, Fabian, and Mary all said in chorus.
“I thought he was a Death Eater,” Alice muttered, stunned.
“I never joined,” Regulus croaked, still clinging to Sirius, voice shaking like glass on the edge of a shelf. “They tried to make me—I ran—I left—I left when I was sixteen—he found me—he saved me—he gave me everything—and now I—now I don’t—I don’t even have him—”
Sirius’s heart was punching against his ribs.
“…You ran away?” he said quietly. “When you were sixteen?”
Reg nodded against his shoulder.
“I wasn’t going to be their fucking puppet,” he said, voice like acid. “So I left. I went to the Muggle world. Changed my name. Got into university. I met him there. He was studying linguistics. He was the—he was the first good thing that ever—”
He couldn’t finish. His voice dissolved. He buried his face in Sirius’s coat and howled.
It was awful. It was awful.
No one said a word.
“I didn’t know who else to call—I need to tell his parents—they loved me—I—I can’t even plan the funeral—I don’t—he’s gone—and I don’t even know what to do—he was—he was—”
Sirius shook his head, arms tightening.
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I am alone!” Reg spat, wrenching back and looking at him, soaked in tears, mouth trembling. “I haven’t been a Black since I married him. You all hate me. You thought I was one of them. You were going to hex me just now!”
Sirius’s eyes flickered with guilt.
“We didn’t know,” he said, quiet.
“You never asked.”
“Reg…”
“I tried to write,” Regulus whispered. “But I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. After everything. After I left. After I… after I chose not to be one of you, either.”
“Fuck,” Sirius said, sitting back and dragging his hands over his face. “You idiot. You fucking idiot.”
Reg flinched.
Sirius leaned forward again, gripping his shoulders.
“You could’ve come to me. You could’ve come home.”
“I didn’t have a home.”
Silence.
“…You do now.”
Regulus blinked at him.
Sirius turned to the rest of the group.
“Well?” he snapped. “Are you all just going to stand there?”
Lily stepped forward first. She knelt beside Regulus and gently tucked his hair behind his ear, eyes shining.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Then James.
Then Remus.
Then the others.
One by one, they knelt or crouched or sat in the hallway with him, forming a ring around the youngest Black, their former enemy, their long-lost maybe-something, their maybe-ally-now.
Marlene squeezed his hand.
Peter offered him water.
Alice gave him tissues.
Frank wheeled himself closer and patted his back.
Gideon and Fabian silently flanked him, forming a wall.
Mary asked for his husband’s name.
Regulus looked down at his hands.
“Luca,” he whispered. “His name was Luca. And he loved marmalade and sunflowers and hated socks and always left all the cabinets open. And he was the only reason I—he was the reason I stayed alive.”
No one said anything for a long time.
Finally, Sirius nodded.
“Alright,” he said hoarsely. “Then we’ll help you bury him. And then we’ll bring you home.”
Regulus sobbed again—but this time, it was different. It sounded like breaking and mending all at once.
It sounded like a boy who’d finally stopped running.
The waiting room became a mausoleum of sound.
The walls still hummed faintly with the hospital's sterile buzz—distant spells being cast, faint footsteps down polished corridors, the soft hum of lights above—but within the circle of the Order, the world had gone hushed. Only Regulus made noise.
He was pacing now.
Then crying again.
Then pacing again, sobbing into the same crumpled handkerchief Sirius had magicked up for him nearly an hour ago. It was soaked through. The nurse had left them alone after Sirius barked at her, and no one dared speak beyond a whisper.
Reg was on the floor one minute, curled against the bench like he might sink into it. Then upright the next, pulling his phone—his Muggle phone—out of his pocket with shaking hands to try calling again.
The words kept tumbling out of him, looping and looping like he couldn’t stop repeating them.
“He was fine—he smiled at me—he kissed me on the cheek before he left the room—I should’ve known something was wrong—I didn’t notice—I didn’t notice—”
“Reg,” Sirius tried softly, kneeling beside him again.
“I didn’t notice!”
His voice cracked. His whole body shook. He was holding his phone like it was the last solid thing in the world. His eyes were red raw. His shirt was half-untucked and wrinkled and the wedding ring—simple, silver, scuffed—glinted on his finger as he clutched the phone like a lifeline.
James had Lily pulled close, his arms around her waist, her chin on his shoulder, eyes shining with tears she hadn’t yet shed. Frank sat stiff beside Alice, his hands gripping hers tightly like he was afraid to let go. Fabian and Gideon stood like twin statues flanking the door, and Remus… Remus was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed, his arms crossed, lips pressed so tight together they’d gone white.
“I loved him,” Regulus sobbed again, voice small now. “I loved him and now he’s gone and I can’t even—I can’t even make him tea or fold the laundry or fight with him over the stupid recycling and—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Mary said gently.
“I do!” Reg screamed, suddenly turning to them. “You all hate me—you all left me—you didn’t even know—!”
“We didn’t know,” Lily whispered, stepping forward. “But we don’t hate you.”
“You should.”
Sirius sat beside him, gently tugging him back down into a seated position. Reg didn’t resist. He just folded into himself, knees to chest, the phone still in one hand, the other clutching Sirius’s arm like a drowning man.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered, tears slicking his voice. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”
And then the doors opened.
Two people stumbled in. A man and a woman, both mid-forties, dressed in normal Muggle clothes—clothes that didn’t belong in the chaos of war. The woman had Luca’s soft mouth and the same dark curls, but they were greying now, pulled into a low ponytail. The man had a tweed coat and eyes like steel wrenched into softness by grief.
“Regulus,” the woman gasped.
Reg looked up.
And the scream that came out of him was so broken it didn’t sound like a scream at all. He dropped the phone. Launched himself to his feet.
“Ma—”
The rest was lost in the way she caught him. Her arms wrapped around him, the man following close, burying his face into Regulus’s shoulder. The three of them folded into each other like a tent collapsing in a storm—no shape, no space, just sobbing and clinging and petting and rocking and grief.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I tried—I tried everything—” Reg sobbed.
“We know, baby,” the woman choked out, kissing the top of his head. “We know you did.”
“You were everything to him,” Luca’s father said, voice shaking. “You are our son.”
The three of them sank to the floor together.
Regulus curled between them, tiny and trembling and inconsolable, his arms around both their necks, sobbing and shaking and murmuring apologies over and over again.
And the Order just… watched.
They were frozen, caught between the sacred and the unspeakable. Caught in the brutal intimacy of someone else’s grief. Witnesses to something raw, real, and much too human.
James felt Lily shift in his arms and he turned just in time to catch the tears sliding down her cheeks. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. She gripped the fabric of his robes like she’d never let go.
“I couldn’t,” she whispered. “I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t.”
“I know,” James said, voice cracking. “I know. Me either.”
Frank reached over and took Alice’s hand. She’d already been crying in silence, staring down at her lap, mouth trembling.
Fabian’s eyes were wide, his knuckles white around the wand he’d forgotten he was holding.
Gideon didn’t blink for a full minute.
Marlene sat back against the wall, staring at the scene in front of her, then let out a quiet, “Holy fucking hell.”
No one answered her.
Because what was there to say?
The war had taken lives, taken families, taken blood and time and memories—but this was different.
This wasn’t a battlefield or a casualty or a body found in a ditch.
This was a kitchen. A good morning. A cup of tea. A smile. And then nothing.
This was a future burned away in a second.
This was Regulus Black—no, Regulus Marriner—in love. Married. Torn apart. And utterly broken.
And none of them had known.
Until now.
Until they saw him on the floor, sobbing into his mother-in-law’s lap, apologizing to a man already gone.
Until they heard him whisper:
“I don’t want to sleep without him. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow.”
And they knew.
They knew there were worse things than war.
There was love lost without warning. There was waking up without the person you lived for.
There was the sound of a heart breaking that magic could never fix.
-
They stayed.
No one suggested leaving. No one even shifted like they were thinking about it.
There were forms to sign.
So many forms.
Regulus sat at a small desk in a quiet administrative office, hunched over parchment and Muggle documents alike, hands trembling as he wrote a name that felt like it belonged to someone else now.
Regulus Marriner.
He had to write it again.
And again.
Relationship to deceased?
He swallowed.
“Husband.”
The quill blotched the ink where his hand jerked.
Sirius stood behind him the entire time. Not touching—just there. A presence at his back. Solid. Silent.
Every time Reg’s breath hitched too hard, Sirius’s hand hovered like he didn’t know whether to reach out or not.
Luca’s parents stayed close. His mother kept stroking Regulus’s hair between signatures, whispering soft reassurances that didn’t sound like reassurances at all. They sounded like survival.
Finally, a mediwitch returned with a small velvet pouch and a folded envelope.
“These were on him,” she said gently.
Regulus stared at the pouch like it might bite him.
Sirius reached for it first, opening it slowly before handing it to Reg.
Inside was a simple gold ring.
Not Reg’s. Luca’s.
Warm still. Or maybe that was imagined.
Regulus let out a noise that didn’t belong in a human throat. He pressed the ring to his lips, his forehead, then clutched it to his chest.
“He never took it off,” he whispered. “Not once. Even when we fought. Even when we were stupid. He never took it off.”
No one answered.
They didn’t know how.
The house was small.
Quaint. Red-bricked. Ivy climbing one side like it had grown there intentionally, as if it loved the place too.
A little blue door.
A brass knocker shaped like a sun.
Regulus stopped at the gate.
His hand hovered over the latch.
He looked terrified.
Sirius stepped beside him.
“Do you want me to—?”
Reg shook his head sharply.
“No. I—I have to.”
He opened the gate.
The garden was tidy. Not pristine—lived in. A pair of gardening gloves left on the stone ledge. A chipped ceramic pot filled with herbs. A little crooked birdhouse nailed to the fence.
James exhaled slowly.
This wasn’t some secret hideout.
This wasn’t a Death Eater’s den.
This was a home.
Regulus unlocked the door.
The smell hit immediately—lavender detergent, old books, something faintly citrus. Familiar. Warm.
And utterly unchanged.
Like the morning hadn’t happened.
Reg stepped inside.
And broke.
He staggered two steps in before collapsing onto the sofa, curling in on himself, Luca’s ring still clutched in his fist.
“It’s not fair,” he choked. “It’s not fucking fair. He was here this morning. He was here. He kissed me goodbye in this doorway. He said he’d pick up milk on his way back from the shop. He said he’d—”
His voice dissolved into sobbing.
Luca’s mother sat beside him instantly, pulling him into her chest. Luca’s father lowered himself onto the other side, hand firm on Reg’s shoulder.
“We’re here,” his mother whispered. “We’re here, love.”
The Order lingered awkwardly near the entryway at first, unsure.
Then they began to look.
The walls were covered in photographs.
Remus was the first to step closer.
There was Regulus at eighteen—hair longer, smile shy, wearing a university hoodie and standing beside a tall, dark-haired man with warm brown eyes and an arm wrapped possessively around his waist.
Another photo: graduation caps in the air, Regulus laughing openly—head thrown back, eyes bright. Not the sharp, closed-off boy they’d known.
Wedding photos framed in soft gold.
Regulus in a tailored suit, hands shaking slightly as he slipped a ring onto Luca’s finger. Luca grinning at him like he’d won something priceless.
Honeymoon pictures—sun-drenched beaches, wind-swept cliffs, city streets with neon lights.
Christmas mornings in pyjamas. Halloween costumes—Luca dressed as a vampire, Reg as something dramatic and overdone, both of them laughing.
Lily pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Mary found little yellow notes stuck to the fridge.
Don’t forget you’re brilliant.
Tea’s in the cupboard, love you.
You left your ring by the sink again, disaster husband.
If you’re reading this, I beat you home. I win.
Gideon stood in front of one photo for a long time. It was small. Tucked near the stairs. Regulus asleep on the sofa, Luca draped over him, both of them tangled in a blanket.
“They look…” Gideon trailed off.
“Happy,” Fabian finished quietly.
James found a bookshelf filled with linguistics texts and old novels. One shelf held a framed program from a university theatre production. Regulus’s name listed under set design.
“He went to uni,” James muttered. “He actually did it.”
Alice moved slowly through the kitchen.
Two mugs still sat on the table.
One half-full.
Frank closed his eyes.
Behind them, Regulus’s sobbing grew louder.
“I keep expecting him to come in,” he gasped, voice cracking between breaths. “I keep thinking I’ll hear the door and he’ll just—he’ll just walk back in and tell me it was a mistake, that they got it wrong, that he’s fine—”
He looked toward the hallway.
“I keep waiting.”
His chest hitched violently.
Sirius stepped forward at last and knelt in front of him.
“You won’t stop waiting tonight,” Sirius said quietly. “Or tomorrow. Or next week. That doesn’t mean you’re mad.”
Regulus looked up at him, eyes wild.
“I don’t know how to be in this house without him,” he whispered. “Everything is him. The stupid curtains. The rug he insisted on buying. The dent in the wall where he tripped carrying boxes. I don’t know how to sit here and not have him beside me.”
Luca’s father swallowed hard and turned away, jaw trembling.
James tightened his hold around Lily as she leaned fully into him now. He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing her in like she might disappear if he didn’t.
Frank pulled Alice into his chest.
Peter stood stiffly by the doorway, face pale.
Marlene wiped at her eyes angrily, like she resented the tears.
Remus crouched by the coffee table and picked up a small framed photo—Regulus and Luca in winter coats, snow in their hair, noses pink from the cold.
“You built a life,” Remus said softly.
Regulus laughed through tears.
“I built it with him. He was the brave one. I was just the one who ran.”
“You survived,” Sirius said firmly.
“I survived because he loved me,” Regulus snapped, then immediately dissolved again. “He made everything quiet. He made me… safe.”
Sirius’s throat closed.
The house felt too full and too empty at the same time.
Regulus began to ramble again, voice spiralling.
“I didn’t even tell him goodbye properly. I was annoyed because he forgot to replace the toilet paper roll. I was being petty and I—he laughed at me and I rolled my eyes and that’s the last thing I said—”
Luca’s mother gripped his face gently.
“He knew you loved him,” she said, voice firm through tears. “He knew.”
Reg shook his head violently.
“It’s not enough.”
Nothing was enough.
The sun began to dip outside, casting long shadows across the living room walls. The photographs caught the light, faces glowing softly as if the moments were still alive inside the frames.
Regulus curled deeper into the sofa, Luca’s ring pressed into his palm so tightly it left a mark.
“I don’t want tomorrow,” he whispered.
No one had an answer for that.
So they stayed.
They moved quietly around the house. Lily made tea. James found blankets. Mary collected the notes from the fridge and placed them carefully in a neat stack so they wouldn’t fall.
Frank and Alice sat on the floor near the sofa, silent witnesses.
Fabian and Gideon stood guard by the window without even meaning to.
Remus remained near the photographs.
And Sirius stayed kneeling in front of his brother.
For the first time in nearly a decade, Regulus wasn’t alone.
But the empty space beside him on the sofa still felt impossibly vast.
-
The morning of the funeral arrived pale and windless.
No rain. No thunder. No dramatic sky to match the wreckage in Regulus Marriner’s chest.
Just a thin grey light stretching across the quiet street as the cars lined up one by one.
The procession moved slowly. Silently.
Regulus sat in the backseat of the first car between Luca’s parents, hands folded tight in his lap, knuckles bone-white. He wore black—perfectly tailored, perfectly pressed, because Luca had always insisted on proper collars and straight cuffs for important days. His hair was brushed back. His face was hollow.
He hadn’t slept.
The Order followed behind in two cars. No one spoke. James drove one with Lily in the passenger seat, their hands linked over the gear stick. Sirius drove the other. Remus stared out the window. Fabian and Gideon sat shoulder to shoulder like twin sentries. Mary pressed her forehead to the glass. Frank’s hand never left Alice’s knee. Marlene kept blinking hard like she was trying to dry up something that refused to go away.
The church stood at the edge of the village—stone walls softened by age, ivy trailing like quiet devotion.
They met Regulus at the steps.
He looked smaller somehow. Like grief had reduced him to something fragile and breakable.
Sirius stepped forward first. For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Then Sirius adjusted Regulus’s collar without saying a word.
Inside, the organ music had already begun.
And beneath it—soft, almost barely audible at first—Luca’s chosen song played through the speakers. He had once said it reminded him of promises made in kitchens and quiet rooms.
We said we'd walk together baby come what may
That come the twilight should we lose our way
The congregation filled the pews in muted black. University friends. Neighbours. Colleagues. People Regulus didn’t recognise but who clearly recognised him.
He walked down the aisle beside Luca’s parents.
The open coffin waited at the front.
Regulus didn’t look at it yet.
If as we're walking a hand should slip free
I'll wait for you
He sat in the front pew between them. The Order filled the pew behind.
Sirius watched the back of his brother’s head and remembered a small boy with scraped knees and stubborn eyes.
And should I fall behind
Wait for me
The priest began.
Measured voice. Carefully chosen words about kindness, generosity, brilliance. About a life too short but deeply lived.
Regulus kept his eyes fixed on the polished wood of the coffin.
We swore we'd travel darlin' side by side
We'd help each other stay in stride
Luca’s friends spoke first.
A woman with trembling hands talked about late-night study sessions and Luca insisting on feeding everyone pasta at three in the morning. A man with a cracked voice spoke about Luca’s stubborn loyalty, about how fiercely he loved.
Regulus’s breath hitched when they laughed softly at a memory.
But each lover's steps fall so differently
But I'll wait for you
Luca’s father stood next.
He unfolded a piece of paper but didn’t look at it.
“My son,” he said, voice steady in a way that hurt, “was never afraid to love loudly. And the day he met Regulus, he told us he had found his person. He said, ‘I’ve found the one I’m going to grow old with.’”
Regulus bent forward, hands clasped tight between his knees.
And if I should fall behind
Wait for me
When the priest said Regulus’s name, there was a pause.
A long one.
He stood slowly.
Sirius half-rose behind him, as if prepared to catch him if he fell.
Now everyone dreams of a love lasting and true
But you and I know what this world can do
Regulus stepped to the front.
His hands shook so badly he had to grip the edge of the lectern.
“I—” His voice broke immediately.
He swallowed. Tried again.
“I don’t really know how to do this.”
A fragile ripple of understanding moved through the room.
So let's make our steps clear that the other may see
And I'll wait for you
“I keep thinking about that morning,” Regulus said, tears already sliding down his face. “He made tea. He complained about the milk being nearly gone. He laughed when I got annoyed about something stupid. I don’t even remember what it was. I just remember rolling my eyes at him.”
He let out a soft, broken laugh.
If I should fall behind
Wait for me
“I didn’t know it would be the last time.”
His hands tightened.
“I keep apologising,” he whispered. “For not noticing. For not doing more. For not being able to fix it.”
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“This was on the fridge. One of his notes.”
His voice trembled as he read.
“‘If there are a thousand lives, I hope I find you in every single one. And if I don’t recognise you, I hope you recognise me.’”
Now there's a beautiful river in the valley ahead
There 'neath the oak's bough soon we will be wed
Regulus let the paper fall slightly.
“He left notes everywhere,” he said, crying openly now. “On the fridge. In books. In coat pockets. I used to pretend they were ridiculous. I used to tease him.”
He wiped his nose on his sleeve without caring.
Should we lose each other in the shadow of the evening trees
I'll wait for you
“I won’t get another one,” he whispered.
His voice fractured completely.
And should I fall behind
Wait for me
He stepped away from the lectern.
He turned.
And finally looked into the coffin.
Darlin' I'll wait for you
Should I fall behind
Luca looked peaceful. Unfairly so.
Regulus reached out with trembling fingers and touched his husband’s hand.
It was cold.
“Wait for me,” Regulus breathed.
Wait for me
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Luca’s.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” he whispered. “But if there’s another life—if there’s any life after this—find me again. Okay? Don’t let me miss you.”
He brushed his thumb across Luca’s cheek one last time.
Then he broke.
Sirius reached him first when his knees buckled. James and Remus followed, steadying him as the priest quietly moved to close the coffin.
The sound of it shutting echoed too loudly.
Outside, the sky remained pale.
The coffin was carried out by Luca’s friends and lowered carefully into the earth.
Regulus stood at the very front.
Hands clasped tight against his mouth. Shoulders shaking. Eyes locked on the descending wood as if staring hard enough might reverse gravity.
The wind picked up slightly, lifting strands of his dark hair.
No one spoke.
James held Lily so tightly she had to squeeze his wrist to remind him to breathe.
Frank’s arm wrapped around Alice’s waist.
Mary leaned into Marlene.
Fabian and Gideon stood flanking Sirius.
Sirius did not move.
Regulus remained still as the coffin disappeared from view.
When the first shovelful of earth struck the lid, he flinched like he’d been hit.
But he did not step back.
He stood there until the grave was filled.
Until the flowers were placed.
Until the priest murmured the final blessing.
Until the world moved on without Luca in it.
And then, only then, did Regulus lower his hands from his mouth and let out a sound so quiet and so broken it barely reached the air—
“I’ll wait for you.”