Chapter Text
Remus POV.
Summer Seventeen.
June, 2025.
Remus had been through a tough few days—really tough. June was about to end, and he didn’t seem to be making any progress in his task of remembering anything. He looked out of his bedroom window and saw his mother sitting on a chair on the grass, reading a book in the company of Alphard. She seemed more relaxed lately, perhaps because Remus had stopped suffering such constant headaches or because he seemed more resigned. But that didn’t mean he had given up.
He left the house, not really knowing where to go—not after having argued with Sirius, then Regulus, and not to mention James. He felt as if he still hadn’t forgiven James for last summer.
“Hey, I was thinking you should give me all your medicines,” his mother said to Remus as he passed by her side. “So I can keep better control.”
“Did I try to kill myself?” Remus asked as he sat down in front of her. “That night in the water.”
“What?” Hope looked at him, confused.
“Is that why you told everyone not to talk to me?” Remus smoothed down the hair that had been growing for months and tucked the unruly strands behind his ears. “Are you afraid I’ll try again?”
“You didn’t try to hurt yourself,” Hope said, sighing as she put away the book she had been reading.
“So why?” Remus said. “Why?” he repeated. “Why did you forbid everyone from talking to me about my fucking life?”
“Remus. We don’t scream,” Alphard told him, having remained silent until that moment.
Remus gave a wry laugh. “Yeah. Blacks don’t shout, you don’t curse—but I’m not like you. I’m not a Black.” He put his hands to his hair. “I’ve been surrounded by your fucking rules my whole fucking life, and they don’t work.”
“They work if you follow them,” Alphard told him.
“Yes, of course. Because they worked for Sirius or Regulus,” he said sarcastically, and Alphard’s face turned hard as stone. “They don’t work, Mum,” he said this time, addressing Hope.
“Please, Remus,” Hope begged him.
“What?” Remus grimaced in despair as he stood up. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m doing my fucking best!” Hope replied through gritted teeth. “I spent seventeen nights in a hospital chair, took you to every neurologist nearby. You couldn’t go to school, so I studied damn calculus so you wouldn’t be left behind.” Hope looked at him. “I cleaned up your vomit, I can’t sleep at night because you have nightmares, and most of all I brought you back to this damn place.”
Hope sighed, catching her breath. Remus sat back down in front of her, and Alphard ran a hand down her back.
“The doctors said it was best not to overwhelm you. They said it was best if you remembered on your own, that it’s better to attend to the pain,” Hope told him, a little more calmly. “So that’s what I’m doing. My best.”
Remus was silent for a moment. “Post-traumatic amnesia is the product of a brain injury or a disturbing event,” he said slowly. “An attack, an assault. Mum, did someone hurt me?”
Hope lowered her gaze and then raised it directly to her son. But she didn’t answer him.
“Just take a breath and calm down,” Alphard said, and Remus looked at him.
“Right. Shoulders back and chin up, right?” was the last thing Remus said to them before walking away.
At the entrance to the beach, Andy was preparing Dora and Draco to go into the sea to swim. He wasn’t sure, but maybe he heard Dora calling him to join them. However, Remus was focused more on Regulus, James, and Sirius, who were in the sand playing and building a castle.
They looked farther away than he remembered. As if getting close to them at that moment was impossible. Regulus and James were arguing because a tower of their castle had collapsed—too much water or too little sand, it didn’t matter, but they weren’t able to raise it again. Sirius was the first to notice him and looked at him, but knowing that Remus was still angry with him, he didn’t dare follow and just stared.
It was in that moment, when their eyes met, that Remus made a decision.
Remus had imagined countless scenarios, but one where he’d have to resort to Walburga Black? That wasn’t even on his “maybe” or “probably not” list. But then everyone decided to turn their backs on him, and he had no choice but to resort to the most remote option available. Because Walburga wasn’t even able to communicate properly, which left him at a huge disadvantage—and he had no plan to get information from her.
Andy had said that there were good days and bad days when Walburga could speak a little, although not in concrete or meaningful sentences. But Remus wanted to discover whatever was necessary to understand what had happened to him. He turned to Salazar and entered through the kitchen door. Molly had her back to him, her curly red hair tied in a bun.
He hadn’t seen her since his return, and a wide smile appeared on his face. “Molly,” he called.
Molly slowly turned to him. She was humming a song while cooking, but her voice slowly faded away.
“Oh my God, Remus?” Molly wiped her hands on her apron and ran straight to him to grab his cheeks. “Oh, it’s you. It really is you, honey.”
“Yes, it’s me,” Remus replied.
“Look at you, you’re so thin. Are you hungry? Ah, let me prepare something special for you.” Molly let go of Remus’s face to go to the cabinets and started taking out different spice jars.
“No, wait, Molly. I... I came to see Walburga.” Remus started scratching his arm.
Molly slowly stopped and turned towards him. “Walburga?” she repeated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, honey. She’s not in the right mood for that.”
“What happened to her? Why did she end up like this? I mean, I don’t like her, but... seeing her like this is creepy.”
Molly sighed. “It’s not my place to tell you, but I can tell you that it’s not convenient for you to upset Walburga. Pollux can get angry, and Minerva is the one taking care of her now.”
“I know, it’s just been fucking difficult lately,” Remus said. At the way Molly raised her eyebrow, he had to tap his lips—swearing in front of her wasn’t allowed. “Sorry. What I meant is, it’s very difficult. Nobody talks to me, not even the boys.”
Molly’s face fell for a second, but she quickly recovered.
“You can try, but if Minerva kicks you out, it’s not my responsibility.”
Remus gave her a small smile and ran over to give her a hug. “Thanks, Molly. I missed your jam cookies, by the way.”
She responded with a laugh, patting him affectionately on the arm and telling him to leave.
Apparently, Walburga was in the room at the time, because after the incident that Remus had witnessed the day Orion asked to see him, Narcissa did not want to continue carrying the responsibility of caring for her aunt alone. He still couldn’t get used to the new Salazar—she felt anticlimactic, empty, and out of place, so much so that even Remus, who hated the whole old Black concept, now missed it.
And if there was someone perfect to take care of Walburga, it was undoubtedly Minerva. Minerva was an old woman—Remus remembered her as older—who had been the Black brothers’ nanny when they were little. Later, she became a sort of private teacher for Sirius. After the Black siblings grew up, Minerva became Walburga and Irma’s personal secretary and helped them organise their stupid rich-people events. Remus loved Minerva, especially because she treated him with great affection despite being so strict. She had taught him a lot about literature and books, something Remus had already loved thanks to his father.
Now, she had transformed into Walburga’s nurse and nanny. When he entered the living room, he found Walburga sitting in front of a window, staring into space, a blanket over her legs and her hands in her lap. She looked even more lifeless than last time, and Minerva was sitting next to her, reading a book that Walburga obviously wasn’t listening to. Remus watched from the entrance to the living room and felt genuinely bad for seeing Walburga in such a sad state, which was odd considering he really hated her.
Minerva was especially good at spotting others; it wasn’t for nothing that she had stopped many of their pranks in time. So it wasn’t strange that she quickly noticed someone else in the room. When she realised it was Remus, her eyes widened, and he pushed up his half-moon glasses.
“Remus.” Minerva closed the book she was reading and slowly rose from her seat. Walburga, of course, didn’t even flinch. “I finally see you. How are you?”
“Well, I think it could be better,” Remus approached her.
She gave him a look—not filled with pain, sadness, or pity—but rather, the opposite. And Remus couldn’t be more grateful; at least it felt like someone was finally on his side.
“But I won’t tell you anything, Remus,” she said, sighing. “I promised your mother.”
“Did she even talk to you?” Remus sighed tiredly, rubbing his face with both hands.
“I need you to understand her. She’s just a mother worried about her son.”
“I try, but when she denies me the truth, it’s hard to understand her.”
Minerva’s lips were about to part, surely to reply with some life lesson that only she could give, when Andromeda entered the room looking for her.
“Ah, here you are. Minerva, I need your help with Walburga’s room.” Andy carried a basket of neatly folded clean clothes.
“Right now?” Minerva began to stand, adjusting her glasses on top of her hair. “I can’t leave Walburga alone.”
“I can keep her.” Both women looked at Remus after he dropped that bombshell. “Or you can ask the boys to take care of her.”
“They’re not going to want to do it,” Andy shook his head.
“Why—” Remus wanted to ask, but Andromeda interrupted him.
“You know what? Okay, keep her, Remus. We won’t last more than ten minutes,” Andromeda said.
“Is Andromeda safe? I wouldn’t want to get into trouble with Orion. His instructions were clear,” Minerva said, a little distressed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take responsibility. Come with me. Remus, stay with Walburga; don’t leave her alone until we’re back.” Andy nodded towards the chair where Minerva had been sitting. At her insistence, Minerva had no choice but to leave, but not before giving Remus’s shoulder a loving squeeze.
After the two of them left him alone with Walburga, Remus stood staring at her. Now he could observe her better than before and admire the way she looked so deteriorated. Although he hated her with all his being, he couldn’t understand why her children didn’t want to see her. He knew that Regulus and Sirius also felt some resentment, but still, Remus thought that, given the circumstances, at least they would be there for her and she would see them and stop asking about them.
After all, it had been his idea to offer to stay with her because he at least wanted to try to get some information out of her, even though he knew it could be a total failure. He sat down where Minerva had been and adjusted his sweatshirt. Walburga breathed slowly, keeping her gaze fixed on the garden, as if she were waiting for something—or rather, someone. Perhaps her children.
“Walburga.” He called her, but she remained unmoved. She blinked slowly and didn’t seem present. “If I brought Regulus and Sirius, would you talk to me?” Remus leaned forward a little, but the mention of the Black brothers’ names was enough to make Walburga turn to look at him. It was chilling, but Remus swallowed the saliva that had stuck in his throat.
She didn’t say anything—but the fact that she responded to her children’s names was more than enough for Remus.
“What happened on the day of Irma’s funeral?” Remus asked slowly, under Walburga’s watchful gaze.
She didn’t know which word had triggered it, but Walburga’s eyes became crystal clear, and tears began to flow. For the first time in his life, Remus watched the stone woman cry.
There was one thing Remus had inherited from his father: the ability to write stories. When he was a child, Lyall spent entire nights telling him fables he had created, small imaginary worlds he built to make his son laugh before sleep. At some point while Remus was growing up, Lyall started including him in the storytelling, and they quickly began creating stories together that made his mother laugh. Although there were times when Lyall was so tired, he still had the luxury of telling his son a story.
Remus would have gone to his father when situations were difficult because he always seemed to have the answer to everything. He could still remember his father sitting on the edge of his bed as he told him the story of a little wolf and his father. He would have loved to go to him to ask for a solution to his friends’ silence; perhaps he would not have hidden the truth from him as Hope did.
But that would never happen.
So, the story of this island goes like this:
Once upon a time, there was an island where it was always summer. Their kings were loved, their princesses adored by their subjects. They were the perfect royal family, immortal and beautiful, until one day, Queen Irma—so loved by her family and her people—died. She had lied to everyone. She was not a mystical being; she was a simple mortal. The family had created a perfect facade that would be tarnished by such a revelation: they were not immortal; they were like the rest of the people.
So they had no choice but to lie to their kingdom, to hide the truth about the dead queen. Because if the queen was mortal, then everyone else was too.
And mortals die.
★★★
Sirius POV.
Summer Sixteen.
June, 2024.
Sirius didn’t want to be there. But Bellatrix had been so insistent, and he had no choice but to give in. He stood on the sidelines, staring at some flowers a few metres away from his grandmother’s corpse, pretending she wasn’t there and that he was back in Remus’s arms.
“God, this isn’t right. I was clear—the nails should have been black, completely black, dark as night.” He heard Bellatrix ranting at the poor undertaker. “Sirius, come here.” She snapped her fingers, and Sirius rolled his eyes as he approached her.
Sirius didn’t have a chance to stop her. Before he knew it, Bellatrix had grabbed his hand tightly and showed her black-painted nails to the clerk. “This is totally dark black; hers looks like dirty grey.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll try to find a solution,” said the poor employee, lowering his head and leaving to go back to painting the nails of a corpse. “In the meantime, you can take your grandmother’s belongings.” The man pointed to a small table where there was a transparent bag with Irma’s name on it, containing the things she had been wearing when they brought her there.
Sirius grimaced in disgust and pulled away from Bellatrix’s grasp. Bellatrix approached the table where Irma’s things were, while the employee left to clean up the mess he had made with the nail polish. Sirius looked uncomfortably at his now-dead grandmother. He had never felt close to her—or to any of his grandparents, really—but it was different from thinking that at some point he would see them pass away. It felt strange. When his gaze returned to Bellatrix, he saw her taking Irma’s enigmatic black pearl necklace out of the bag.
That damn necklace.
It was an heirloom of Irma’s family, apparently older than any member of her own family. For years, Sirius had watched as his cousins and even his own mother fought over wearing that necklace, because wearing it meant a kind of strange triumph, crushing other women of the family.
“What will happen to Grandma’s pearl necklace?” Sirius asked as Bellatrix ran her fingers over the cold pearls. “Are you going to share them?”
Bellatrix looked at him. “Your grandfather wants them buried with her.” She approached the coffin and placed the black pearls around Irma’s neck. “She would have worn a choker with this dress, don’t you think?”
Sirius had moved away from the coffin to approach Irma’s bag. “She doesn’t really look like herself.”
“I honestly thought she would look worse,” said Bellatrix. “I don’t see the autopsy incision.”
And look, Sirius was a complete idiot who made stupid comments all the time, but even that tasteless joke was too much for him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“She was healthy. We needed to rule out staff poisoning her,” Bellatrix commented, as if commenting on the weather.
Sirius just sighed, exasperated. At the lack of support for his joke, Bellatrix rolled her eyes.
“I’m joking.” She turned her gaze to Irma. “Her time has just come.” There was a long space of awkward silence. “Go on, wait in the car.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice, because without thinking, Sirius simply left. The air was suffocating, and he didn’t want to continue sharing space with a corpse, especially one who had seen him born and grow up and was now leaving this world.
He stood at the entrance of the funeral home, sitting on the steps with his chin in his hands. Sirius would never have imagined that his vacation would take such a deplorable path. It was even worse considering that a normal family would have cancelled the vacation after the family’s grandmother died suddenly, apparently from natural causes. However, he had an unusual family who arranged for Irma’s entire funeral to take place in the town near the island.
And like the Blacks, they couldn’t just let someone’s death bring them down. The Blacks don’t break down—they keep going with their heads held high. Considering he hadn’t even seen his own mother cry over Irma’s death, it was overwhelming. Still, too much had been happening lately, and her grandmother’s death was the last thing she needed to ruin her messed-up summer. Bellatrix didn’t spend more than a few minutes inside before coming out carrying her grandmother’s things.
“I realised this is the first corpse you’ve seen,” she said, arranging her long, curly hair.
Sirius stood up while playing with one of the rings on his fingers. “Yeah. I hope it’s the last.”
“It won’t be. But at least you’ll be better prepared for next time. That’s why I brought you,” Bellatrix continued, speaking as if this situation were not important, as if it were nothing really sad—something Sirius would never fully understand about his family.
“I don’t know how you and my mum manage to be so… strong,” Sirius said with obvious sarcasm. “I wish I could be like you.” The way he said it was condescending because he would have rather ripped off an arm than be like either of them. “You never fall apart.”
Both cousins approached Bellatrix’s green convertible. “Other people may fall apart, but we are Blacks, and we bear it with our chins high and our backs straight. As Grandma always said.” Bella opened the car door and got in; Sirius imitated her by sitting in the passenger seat.
“So, I just correct my posture?” he asked as he put on his seatbelt.
“Do you know something? I was about your age the first time we lost someone and I saw my first dead body. At that moment, Irma gave me excellent advice. She said: ‘Get back to your routine and look to the future.’” Bellatrix looked at herself in the rearview mirror and touched up the nude lipstick she was wearing. “You don’t talk about the person you lost, and if you have to, you don’t show that you feel the loss.” She looked at herself one last time in the mirror before turning to Sirius, who was watching her with a strange grimace on his face. “If you follow the rules, nothing can hurt you over time. Just turn your heart into a small target.”
Sirius was definitely never going to fully understand his family.
“After all, a big heart was Grandma’s downfall.”
★★★
Regulus POV.
Summer Sixteen.
June, 2024.
The last few days for Regulus had felt worse than a fucking nightmare. He felt distant from everything happening around him; he hadn't had the opportunity to clear his mind to process anything in the past few weeks. James's girlfriend, Lydia, and the death of his grandmother had all happened on the same day. So no, Regulus definitely wasn't processing anything.
Unfortunately for him, he hadn't had the chance to talk to Sirius, and Remus was equally busy helping Alphard and James... James was a different story. He hadn't spoken to James again because Regulus didn't feel ready to confront him. Especially because, even though it hurt his ego, that bastard had been right about some things—like the fact that Regulus wasn't really aware of his stupid privilege.
But it wasn’t his fault, right? After all, he hadn’t been the one who asked to be born into a family like the Blacks. Still, it felt like there was something stuck in his throat. But for a Black—especially for Regulus—there was no time to feel bad, much less when his mother was using him as a secretary to organize Irma’s funeral. That morning Walburga had gotten him up practically in the middle of the night because they had to receive the flowers at the dock, and he was there from four until six in the morning, writing down the flowers as they arrived.
There were fucking huge dark circles under his eyes, and he felt horribly ill. Especially since, in those two hours at dawn, he had to share the most uncomfortable space with his mother and her lover. They were acting pretty well, Regulus had to admit it. At that moment, they didn’t look like the same two people he had once caught having sex in a cellar—and the memory alone made him shudder. Then he had to go straight to town with his mother to make sure the church was exactly as she wanted it.
He spent the entire day running around, trying to ensure the funeral was perfect. Later, he spent two hours in the shower, letting the hot water fall on his back, then went on autopilot as he got dressed in the clothes his mother had chosen for him—because, of course, she had very specific taste.
As he straightened his black tie, Sirius walked through the door without knocking.
“Damn it, Sirius. What if I was naked? Knock on the fucking door,” Regulus complained as Sirius flopped down on the bed next to Helga and Godric. “You look ugly.”
“I know, this stupid shirt makes me itch,” Sirius complained. “Today I was near Irma’s body.”
Regulus grimaced. “A lovely experience, I guess.”
“Of course not. Bellatrix used my nails to tell the poor employee that he had put the wrong polish on the dead woman’s hands.”
“She didn’t do that,” Regulus said in surprise, looking at his brother through the mirror. Though Sirius’s silence was the answer. “She’s crazy.”
“She has shit for brains. And look, I’m a scoundrel, but even for me that was very low,” Sirius explained, making exaggerated gestures with his hands.
After that, there was a long silence, accompanied only by the sound of yawns and the breathing of the two dogs sleeping in Regulus’s bed. Neither of them wanted to talk about the elephant in the room.
“Come on, ask me,” Regulus said finally, after a long pause.
“About what?”
“Don’t play dumb. Obviously, about my thing with James.” Regulus rolled his eyes.
Sirius shrugged. “I’m not asking you because I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“What if I want to?”
“Then talk to me, Reggie. I’m your older brother—my duty is to protect you.”
“Even from your best friend? The one you consider your soulmate? Your brother from another mother?” Regulus questioned, sitting on the bed next to him.
“Even above James.”
Again, there was silence, because it was strangely uncomfortable to hear Sirius worrying about him like that. He had grown up watching his brother prefer someone else as a brother, and that had been annoying—but over time he had gotten used to it. And now, there he was: the boy Regulus remembered. The one who used to tell him he was a pain, the one who preferred to play with James because he was more fun—now saying he preferred him.
“How awful. Are you on drugs or something?” Regulus asked, and Sirius made an offended noise, giving his brother a push.
“Damn bastard. I’m being nice to you for the first time in your life.” Sirius wrapped an arm around Regulus’s neck, and they started to fight. Sirius ruffled his hair while Regulus tried to shove him off.
“Here you are.” They were so caught up in their fight that they hadn’t even heard Remus open the door.
“What the hell is your problem with not knocking before entering?” Regulus snapped, still struggling to get Sirius off him.
“Hello, handsome,” Sirius greeted Remus with a blown kiss, and Remus responded with laughter.
“You’re ridiculous.” Remus lay down on the bed with them. Now three people and two dogs were crammed together.
“But I’m a ridiculous person you fuck—” The sentence was cut off as Remus reached out to cover Sirius’s mouth.
“How disgusting, Sirius.” Regulus gave him one last shove and managed to wriggle free, ducking under his arm.
He stood and walked to the mirror to comb his curls again, watching in the reflection as Sirius snuggled into Remus’s arms. Regulus turned around, leaning against his vanity table.
“I’m sorry to ruin your moment of love and affection, but I have to talk to you,” he said, managing to capture both their attention.
“We already know the flower and the bee conversation, Reggie,” Sirius said, holding back a laugh.
“You’re ridiculous. Do you really not have better standards?” Regulus looked at Remus as he said this, and in response, Remus just shrugged. “God give me patience.”
“What’s going on?” Remus asked, trying to divert the conversation.
Regulus didn’t reply at first. Instead, he walked over to his closet. When he stayed silent, the other two eventually got up and followed. Regulus crouched on the floor, running his fingers across the wooden planks until he found the one he had pulled loose before. It was a false floor he used as a safe, hiding things he didn’t want his parents or the staff to see.
Inside was a cardboard box containing cigarettes, vapes, and the tape he had stolen.
“What? You vape? You brat.” Sirius peered over Regulus’s shoulder, earning himself a shove, as Regulus stood with the tape in hand.
“Sirius, have you ever heard of Lydia Black?” Regulus asked, and Sirius’s face twisted in confusion.
“No, not at all. That name doesn’t ring a bell.” Sirius shook his head.
Regulus tossed the tape onto the bed, startling Helga and Godric, who leapt to the floor. Remus and Sirius approached, frowning at the tape.
“What’s this supposed to be?” Remus asked.
“I found it in Orion’s office the night Irma died.”
“Wait—you went into Orion’s office?” Sirius asked, open-mouthed.
“Yeah. Let’s just say I was crying for a while after you left, and when I came out of my room, I ran into him. He said things I hated, and I just… wanted to get revenge or something. I suddenly stopped feeling bad because Mum is cheating on him.” Regulus explained calmly, meeting Sirius’s surprised look. “The strange thing is, this tape was inside the gift box Narcissa gave him earlier at the ceremony. She said it contained videos she’d managed to recover from Orion’s children’s childhood. And yes, there were tapes of us—but at the bottom of the box, I found this.”
Regulus held up the tape. “As far as I know, Orion only has two children. You and me.” He pointed at himself, then at Sirius. “And this girl—Lydia, or whoever she is. She looks too much like Mum. For a moment I thought it was her, but it isn’t.”
He handed the tape to Sirius, who studied the girl’s face.
“Damn. She looks like Walburga,” he muttered, grimacing. “So you’re telling me we’ve got a long-lost sister or something?”
“I don’t know. If anyone knows anything, it’s Narcissa—but she won’t say, because she’s covering for Mum and her infidelity. Asking Orion or Walburga isn’t an option either.” Regulus shrugged.
The three fell silent until Remus spoke. “Don’t you have any family photos? I mean, every year you take those ridiculous themed pictures to kick off summer—there’s bound to be one where this little girl shows up.”
Regulus and Sirius exchanged a knowing look, and Sirius snapped his fingers. “The attic of Salazar. God, Remus, I want to kiss you right now.”
Regulus stepped between them, stretching out his arms. “But we can’t do it now. Irma’s funeral is coming up soon, and we can’t just run off to dig up photos.”
Sirius let out a groan and ran his hands through his hair, tugging slightly.
“So what?” he asked.
“We wait for the right moment to act,” Regulus said.