Chapter 1: The Eternal Garden
Chapter Text
There was no more pain - that was the first thing she realized. Not immediately. At first, it was just the absence of everything. As if someone had dimmed the entire universe. No sharp light, no sounds, no breath catching in her lungs. Only a soft, gentle emptiness. One that asked for nothing. Like slipping beneath the surface of water, but the water was warm, carrying her, refusing to let her sink.
Violet opened her eyes. At first, she only squinted, but there was no need. The world around her shone with its own calm. It was a meadow - or perhaps a landscape? It was impossible to tell where it ended and where it began. The ground beneath her feet was soft like moss, yet solid. A fragrance hung in the air, impossible to name - a mixture of spring, childhood, and memories she hadn't known she carried. She wasn't standing. She wasn't floating. She simply was.
When she looked ahead, she saw them. Doors. Standing alone in the middle of nothing, framed only by the shimmer of surrounding light. They looked simple - wood without a handle, without hinges, without a lock. And yet something familiar radiated from them. Not the exact shape - rather the feeling. A chill along her neck, a light stab beneath her ribs when she spotted them. They were... old. Older than she was, older than her memories. And still, somewhere deep within, she knew she had seen them before.
Not consciously. Not in the real world. But in that corner of the mind where dreams bleed into intuition. That was when it struck her. The Divination test. The crystal ball. The doors of fate. The vision she had tried to forget back then, because she hadn't understood it. Doors that led nowhere - and yet had to lead somewhere. Back then, she had told herself it was no true vision. But now she knew it hadn't been chance.
Violet took a step toward them. She felt no pressure, no pull. It was as if the very landscape was giving her space. Not pushing her, only watching. When she drew closer, she noticed the wood was etched with faint carvings. Not runes, not symbols. More like the marks of time. As though millions of souls had passed through and each left a trace. And yet the doors were clean. Untouched.
She reached out her hand, but before she could touch them, they opened by themselves. Without creaking. Without resistance. As if they had been waiting for her presence. Behind them there was nothing. Not at first. Just more of that gentle light. But as soon as she stepped through, the light shifted into an image. She held her breath - or rather, felt as though she did, though she hadn't been breathing for a long time.
Before her stretched a garden. Not just any garden. It was... exactly the one she had once seen. That day of her birthday at Hogwarts. The day she thought the Mirror of Erised had shown her nothing more than a reflection of her fantasy - a longing for peace, for love, for something that might never be hers. But now it was here. A pebble path leading to a pond rimmed with white blossoms. Trees bending gently in the wind without a sound. And the sky... endless, azure blue, unmoving yet alive.
She shivered. Not from cold. Not from fear. From understanding. She knew there would be no pain here. Not because someone had stolen her memories or dulled her emotions. But because there was no reason for suffering here. All that was dark had stayed far behind those doors.
Violet walked a few steps along the path. Each step felt light, as though the ground itself was holding her up. She didn't know how much time had passed, or whether time even existed here. But suddenly none of that mattered. No questions, no answers. Only the feeling that she had returned. Not from anywhere specific - but to something that had always been.
The garden welcomed her. And Violet welcomed it. She sat on the bank of the pond, its surface calm as a mirror. It didn't reflect the sky - it reflected her. Yet she was not alone. In the reflection, she caught a glimpse of something else - a flicker of light, a shape she had no strength to define. It didn't matter. She closed her eyes. And smiled. Because for the first time in a very long time, she felt no fear, no grief. Silence stroked her skin. And the garden around her began to bloom.
The garden did not speak. And yet it answered her. Violet stayed in its heart, between the pond and the willow. At first, she only sat by the water's edge, her fingers buried in the grass, her gaze fixed on the still surface. She longed for nothing. She needed no explanation. The garden breathed with her.
Soon, though, she noticed something strange. Whenever a smile touched her mind - small, gentle, like a memory of carefree laughter - a whisper of wind stirred in the distance. And with it spread the scent of lilacs. So strong that she could taste the sweetness on her tongue, just like in childhood when she had raced among blooming bushes, laughing for no reason. The branches above her trembled slightly, and the garden shone with a brighter shade of green.
Violet smiled faintly. "Are you thanking me?" she whispered.
The garden stayed silent, but the lilacs bloomed again. The first time she remembered Sirius, it wasn't like a flash of memory. More like a feeling. The sense of his presence - not as something past, but as possibility. And that was when she noticed something in the grass - a crumpled shirt. Black, with the faintest stain of violet. It lay there as if it had always been. When she picked it up, she felt its weight. And something more. Its scent. His scent. So strong it made her close her eyes for a moment. It wasn't a dream. But neither was it reality as she had known it. The garden wasn't a place. It was an emotion.
When calm settled over her, the pond shimmered like a canvas. When a single tear slipped down her cheek - not from sorrow, but from being moved - the water rippled and showed her an image. Not always the same. Sometimes Sirius, lounging on a porch, legs stretched, that cheeky grin on his face. Sometimes her parents, laughing at the living room table. And sometimes just hands - unclear, blurred - holding hers.
One day, while walking the same path she had grown to love, her steps carried her to a great tree. She didn't remember it being there before. Its trunk was cracked, veined with moss and gray lichen. She sat beneath it, leaning her back against the bark. And when her fingers brushed a stone in the grass, she turned it over and found something carved into it.
It was faint. The words looked old, as if etched long before her arrival. "For those who remember - even if they don't know why."
She caught her breath. For a long while she stared at those words. She wasn't sure what they meant exactly. But inside her spread something unusual - a quiet, deep understanding. A sense that she wasn't alone. Not in the way of others being present. But in the way threads connect those who loved, who lost, and who remained loyal without knowing why. She didn't put the stone back. She laid it beside her. And the garden bloomed into white flowers.
She wasn't sure how long she stayed in the garden. There were no clocks. No shadows stretching longer. No sun climbing higher across the sky. Only a stream of light shifting in shade with her moods.
The garden adapted to her, but it never pandered. It knew when to remain still and when to bloom. When to whisper in the branches and when to fall into silence. Some days - if they could be called days - Violet simply walked and gathered flowers. Each had a different fragrance. Some reminded her of the warmth of a childhood blanket. Another of evenings in the common room. And one - only one - smelled like Sirius. That one she kept. She placed it in a crystal bowl that appeared on a stone table. When she returned to it, the flower was still there. It hadn't wilted. It only breathed its scent.
Once, while lying in the grass, watching the sky - ever soft, ever spilled - she felt something change. At first it was just a faint hum. Not a sound, more a breath. Then she realized the air around her had thickened. As though a wind had passed through. And with it came the scent of rain. She closed her eyes. And at that moment, it began to fall. Not harshly. Not coldly.
The drops fell slowly, heavily, quiet as whispers. They landed on her face, her hair, her arms. She wasn't wet. Only connected. Water that washed away nothing, yet everything. The drops slid across her forehead, and with each one she felt something she couldn't name. Not melancholy. Not longing. But closeness. As if the rain were telling her: "Your soul is not abandoned."
The garden began to answer her differently than before. Not only with color and silence. But with details. With changes that weren't hers. On a clearing appeared a wooden bench, slightly crooked, with the words "It's ours" carved clumsily into its back. In the corner between two trees, a swing appeared - one of those old ones, with thick rope and a wooden plank swaying gently though no wind blew.
Sometimes she felt she wasn't alone - even though she never saw anyone. When she sat by the pond, it seemed as though someone stood on the opposite shore. When she lay in the grass, she sometimes heard a muffled giggle.
At first, she thought her mind was making it all up. Then she caught herself smiling, though she didn't know why. And one day, when she sat on the bench, she found a scrap of parchment lying there. On it was written: "Hide and seek tomorrow. The two of us and you. G+F."
Violet narrowed her eyes, then burst into laughter. Out loud. For the first time. And the whole garden laughed with her.
Chapter 2: The Pillow Fight
Chapter Text
There was no wind, yet the leaves rustled. There was no sun, yet it was warm. Time didn’t exist here, yet the flowers opened and closed as if they had their own rhythm. It was strange, but at the same time natural. Violet woke up in a garden where the grass smelled of mint and yellow dandelions covered the landscape. As if it had been created just for her. And perhaps it had. Eternal spring, eternal peace. She sat in the grass, playing with a petal between her fingers and listening to the strange, gentle silence. Not emptiness, but an embrace. And then it was broken by a voice. Two voices.
"This is your fault!" the first one shouted.
"Mine?" the second replied indignantly. "You’re the one who started claiming you can polish a pebble so much that you can see the future in it!"
"That was a poetic metaphor, you blockhead!"
"Yeah? Then why did you stick it in your pocket and start predicting that you’d be visited by the ghost of forgotten socks?"
Violet laughed. Out loud. Honestly. She instinctively covered her mouth with her hand as if to hide, but it was too late. Silence.
"Hey... was that laughter?"
"Either a siren, or someone we know. And in both cases, it calls for action. I’m counting from ten!"
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" they began to count in unison.
Violet burst out laughing and ran deeper into the garden, toward a willow with branches like curtains. She slipped underneath and crouched down.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
She tried not to breathe too loudly. She knew they would find her. But she also knew it would be worth it. She was already looking forward to it. To the moment they appeared before her. To the laughter. Like before. Or rather... like always. Footsteps followed. Laughter. A sudden rustle as the branches were swept aside.
"Got you!" Gideon shouted triumphantly, only to lose his balance when Fabian shoved him from behind, determined to reach Violet first.
"No, I’ve got her!" Fabian yelled, and the three of them tumbled into the grass together, Violet losing her balance in laughter and falling between them.
Violet laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. Fabian clutched his side and muttered something about twisted rules of the afterlife, while Gideon searched for something to crown her with as queen of the garden - eventually placing a pinecone on her head, declaring it a symbol of eternal victory.
When they finally calmed down, Violet sat between them. For a while, they were silent. Just sitting and gazing into the distance. Clouds shaped like cotton candy drifted lazily across the sky. Time truly had no meaning here.
"Did you know I’d be here?" she asked softly.
Gideon nodded. "Maybe."
"But we definitely didn’t imagine seeing you in a pinecone crown," Fabian added.
Violet smiled and shook her head. "I missed you."
Gideon lay back with his hands behind his head. "And we missed you. But here... here, you don’t miss anyone. Here, you remember."
"And dream," said Fabian. "And play hide-and-seek as if we were ten."
"Yeah," Gideon agreed. "And guess how long you’ll endure our company before you try to turn us into elephants."
Violet laughed again. Not through tears. Not in pain. But with the joy she thought she would never feel again. The three of them lay in the grass, while in the treetops sang birds that didn’t belong there, yet somehow felt at home.
Then, out of nowhere, Fabian leapt to his feet and spread his arms in a dramatic gesture. "I must warn you, my powers outshine both of yours. In this world I’ve achieved absolute control over my physical molecules," he declared grandly - and in an instant, his body dissolved into a fine cloud of shimmering dust.
Violet and Gideon stared at the swirling mist hovering in the air.
"No! Not again!" Gideon groaned.
He grabbed the nearest leaf, scooped some of Fabian into a pile, and threatened: "If you do this one more time, I swear I’ll dump you into that pond by the bench!"
From the heap of dust came a chuckle. "Careful you don’t trip over your own dignity," came Fabian’s dusty voice.
"How are you supposed to threaten anyone when you’re slipping through their fingers?" Gideon grumbled, huffing as he shoveled Fabian from leaf to leaf.
Violet laughed so hard she had to brace herself on her knees. "Please, turn back before you try to reincarnate as a flowerpot."
Fabian reassembled himself in human form - this time with a twig in his mouth like a cigar. "Stylish comeback, wouldn’t you say?"
"Stylishly insane," Violet replied, tossing a pinecone that knocked the twig from his mouth.
"That twig was my charisma!" he whined dramatically.
"You’ve got charisma without a twig," Gideon muttered. "But that’s more of a curse than a gift."
Fabian reached for another twig, but Gideon suddenly stood up, climbing onto a raised stone like a speaker at a war rally. His eyes sparkled.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he proclaimed to the other two. "The time has come to open a new portal! A gateway into the unknown, a dimension where no human foot has ever set - because it was too sensible to try."
"Sounds like your candy-trap idea, the one you got stuck in yourself," Fabian sighed.
"That was performance art!" Gideon protested. "And now, watch. A spell completely safe - verified by my own logic." He raised his wand, traced a few circles in the air, and intoned: "Portula variabilis!"
An oval portal opened in the air, rimmed with glowing rings that looked like a blend of cotton candy and cobwebs. At its center swirled violet-blue mist.
"That... doesn’t look like a garden," Violet said cautiously as she stepped closer. From within came faint noises - murmuring voices and the rustle of fabric?
Gideon straightened proudly and, before anyone could stop him, leapt in with a dramatic: "For exploration!"
Fabian and Violet exchanged a glance. Then looked at the portal. Then back at each other - and both jumped in.
On the other side, they landed in an utterly bizarre dimension that looked like a cross between the clearance section of a wizarding textile shop and an oversized cozy living room. Colorful scarves flew through the air, wrapping themselves around anything that moved. Cushions of every shape tumbled from shelves, and one landed squarely on Violet’s head.
"This is your brilliant plan?" Fabian growled, a scarf with dancing potatoes dangling from his leg.
"The décor may have gone a bit overboard," Gideon admitted weakly.
Violet instinctively grabbed a pillow and hurled it straight at Gideon’s face. He yelped: "Treachery!" and launched himself into retaliation.
And so began the most bizarre pillow fight ever. Fabian fashioned a makeshift shield out of a striped throw and hid behind a massive armchair. Gideon tried to leap onto a sofa, but it vanished beneath him, dropping him straight into a pile of feathers. Violet crawled behind a canopy screen, but her laughter gave her away instantly.
Chapter 3: Chapter Three: On the Surface of the Pond
Chapter Text
Violet lay curled in the grass, her head buried in the crook of her arm. Dandelion and daisy blossoms clung to her skin, and the scent of greenery and flowers filled her nose and her mind. A gentle breeze brushed her cheek. It wasn’t cold. It felt more like the breath of someone familiar, someone who had just lain down beside her. She felt the blades of grass crushed beneath her fingers. As if someone had been sitting next to her, or... asleep.
She raised her head and squinted into the soft light. The grass was pressed into the shape of a human body, like the imprint left behind when someone rises but their presence lingers for a moment. Violet pushed herself up to sit, her fingers still trailing across the grass, as though trying to connect with that invisible trace.
"Who are you?" she whispered softly.
But the only answer was... laughter. She blinked. Looked around. Nothing. And then again. Louder this time. A girl’s laughter, half-muffled, half-playful. Then the sound of water splashing. The air suddenly thickened with vapor and something achingly familiar. Like the scent of summer holidays. Violet spun around sharply, her gaze falling on the pond. And there she saw them.
On the silver surface rocked a small wooden boat. Lily sat upright at its prow, bare feet dangling just above the water, her russet hair drifting around her face like a veil. She looked almost exactly as Violet remembered her. In her hand she held a water lily, laughing. Opposite her sat James, bracing himself on the boat as he tried to rock it from side to side.
"James!" Lily laughed. "You’ll drown us both!"
"But you said you weren’t afraid of water," James grinned, shaking the boat until a bit of water spilled over the edge.
Violet held her breath. For a moment she couldn’t even move. She just stood and stared, as if her mind needed more time to understand. But her body betrayed her first. She leapt to her feet and ran. To the water. Barefoot, fast, with branches and dandelions chasing after her, her hair streaming behind her like a banner.
She didn’t stop. She dove into the pond. The water was pleasant. Not cold, not warm - just exactly as she expected. She swam effortlessly, her heart racing not with exhaustion but with something deeper. That feeling of seeing, after endless time, someone who had once been a piece of home.
"Lily! James!" she cried. Her voice shattered across the surface.
James turned his head first. And when Lily looked too and saw Violet, her face lit up. "I knew you’d come," she smiled.
When Violet reached the boat, James stretched out his hand without hesitation and pulled her up. She sat between them, droplets running down her arms and face, but no one paid them any mind. For a moment, all three simply looked at one another. Wordless. Staring like people who knew each other far too well to need anything said.
"I didn’t expect to find you here," Violet whispered at last, her voice faint, almost disbelieving.
"No one expected it," James replied with a smile. "Death is a rather... unannounced visitor."
"James," Lily scolded gently, "for once, could you not make a sarcastic remark when people reunite?"
"That wouldn’t be me," he shrugged, shaking his head. "Besides, if you’d seen how it all went down… well, it was a decent plan until that snake-faced superman showed up."
"You call that a ‘decent plan’?" Lily muttered, resting her chin in her hand. "It ended worse than your attempt at pumpkin punch."
"Pumpkin punch was culinary bravery," James defended himself.
Violet chuckled quietly, feeling her chest loosen. It was all so familiar. Just like then - once. Only now it wasn’t "then." Now it was... forever.
"Harry," Violet whispered, turning to Lily. "How is he..."
Lily smiled. Not broadly, but with that deep, inward smile. A smile full of peace. And pride. And something indescribable.
"He’s strong," she said calmly. "And kind. James insists he has his hair, but I still say it’s only a little more unruly."
"Only a little?" James raised his brows. "That boy’s got a tornado on his head."
Violet watched them. They were exactly as she remembered - yet somehow more. All that remained were the two of them. True. Free.
"Sometimes we watch him," Lily continued. "But not always. It’s not like a window into another world. More like... a feeling. Like when you miss someone, but still carry them inside you."
"And when he’s really close to something important, sometimes you feel it," James added. "Like pressure in your chest, or tingling in your fingertips. It sounds strange, but... everything here feels like a dream you finally remember."
"Sometimes I think he hears me," Lily said softly.
"And what do you tell him?" Violet asked with a smile.
Lily gazed at the water’s surface. "That he is loved. And that he’s not alone."
Drops from Violet’s hair still fell onto the pond, spreading into rings as if each carried a memory of its own.
"I knew it," Lily breathed after a while. "I could tell you were expecting, too. Not because you ever said anything. But... from the way he looked at you. That look just before you both disappeared..." She paused, smiling faintly. "...That isn’t how someone looks only when they love you. That’s how someone looks when they see their whole world in you."
Violet didn’t answer right away. She stared ahead, as though her eyes caught something invisible. The boat rocked gently, calm and quiet. And then she whispered: "And Sirius?"
Lily turned and softly stroked her hand. Her touch was warm and gentle, like a comforting blanket. "You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?" she asked tenderly, yet with certainty. Her voice carried understanding. Human, warm, patient.
Violet lowered her head and nodded. Gently. Almost imperceptibly. "I don’t know if it makes sense," she said. "I don’t know how things work here. But I feel him. Sometimes. As if he’s just a step away, only... in another world. As if some veil divides us."
Lily squeezed her hand tighter. "What you feel here... it isn’t illusion. Nor hope. It’s connection. And it doesn’t fade. It only waits, until it’s time."
James, who had been watching them quietly, leaned closer. His face was calm, but his eyes gleamed with lightness. "We’ve all waited for someone here," he said. "Some come sooner, some later. But they come. And when they do... everything that felt lost is found again. Just a little differently. Maybe more peacefully. Maybe more quietly. But all the stronger for it."
And Violet... for the first time since arriving here, truly drew a breath. Not because she had to. But because she wanted to. Because she knew waiting wasn’t empty. That in this world, there was no such thing as loss. Only temporary distance. The boat rocked gently on the water, as if to cradle all three of them in safety where time had no hurry.
James stretched back, hands behind his head, gazing up at a sky with no sun yet full of light. "Strange, how everything makes sense here, even when it shouldn’t. Here you don’t need answers. Just the feeling that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be."
Violet sat between them, legs dangling over the boat’s edge, her fingertips playing with the surface. The water wasn’t cold. It only touched her softly, as though welcoming her.
"I thought meeting you would be hard. That it would break me. But instead, it feels like something’s been mended," she whispered.
Lily reached out and brushed her hair. "You’re whole again. Just differently."
"By the way, Violet," James spoke up. She looked up, eyes bright and curious. "When Sirius gets here... brace yourself, he’ll be confused. And he’ll have that exact face he wore whenever he forgot his homework and tried to claim the cat ate it. Even though he never had a cat."
"And then he’ll probably kiss you before he says anything," Lily added.
Violet smiled, though her eyes gleamed at the mention of his name. "Maybe I’ll know him before he even appears," she whispered.
"You will," Lily said with certainty. "Because here... nothing can stop love anymore."
For a moment silence returned. But it was warm silence, like a blanket, like a touch. All three gazed at the pond, rippling softly around the boat.
And then Lily added gently: "When he comes, you’ll know it because you’ll forget you were ever alone."
Violet said nothing. She only smiled. And that was enough.
"So..." James spoke up, sitting upright, "since you’re here, our group’s almost complete. Fabian, Gideon, you, Lily, Savage... And me, chief coordinator of fun, of course."
"Chief coordinator?" Violet laughed.
"He’s absolutely unbearable here," Lily sighed with a smile.
James grinned at her. "Better unbearable than forgettable. And you know what? This place has one rule - it doesn’t matter how we got here. Only what we do with it."
Violet nodded, realizing only now that no one cried here. Not because there was nothing to mourn - but because nothing hurt anymore. Only joy. Gratitude. And peace.
"I’m glad I’m here with you," she said.
"And we’re glad you are," Lily answered.
James pointed at Violet’s damp hair. "Once you dry off, we’ll have a meeting. I’ve got a plan. Gideon might try opening that portal to the pillow dimension again. Or we could finally test Fabian’s flying flowerpots."
"Please, no!" Lily squeaked, laughing.
Violet just tilted her head back and laughed with them. Not like someone remembering. But like someone finally home again.
"All right, then how about a portal to a world where tea never gets cold?" James suggested, then added thoughtfully: "And where cookies bake themselves right when you’re craving them."
"That’s paradise," Violet laughed. "But only if the cookies don’t run off into hiding places. That would be a nightmare chase."
"That’s an idea for later," James nodded, raising a finger as if jotting it down in an invisible diary.
"Maybe we should do something calmer," Lily said.
"That sounds suspiciously like an adult suggestion," James smirked. "But fine. What do you ladies propose?"
"A picnic," Violet answered before she could even think. And in that moment it felt like the most natural thing in the world. "At that spot under the willow where it smells of mint."
"And where Fabian swore a butterfly bit him," James added.
"That was Gideon!" Lily laughed.
"All right then," James raised his hands in mock surrender. "A picnic it is. But I warn you - if there aren’t any running cookies, I’ll be disappointed!"
The boat drifted slowly to shore. All three rose, their bare feet sinking into soft grass, stepping into another day that had no end. And yet, it had a beginning. A beginning not written in words - but in laughter. In friendship. And in presence.
Chapter 4: The Jelly Frog Orchestra
Chapter Text
The garden whispered in shades of green, and the willow branches bent over the clearing where something was taking shape that could loosely be called a picnic... if you were willing to accept that even a picnic basket might have opinions of its own. It stood in the middle of the spread blanket, wicker with the label Property of the Universe - Do Not Turn Inside Out and three tiny clasps that clicked open and shut according to mood. When James first set it on the ground, it purred.
"I think it just thanked us," James declared with mock modesty as he sat down beside Lily. "It's grateful someone finally pulled it out of that interdimensional chamber where Gideon and Fabian keep their socks."
"They got there on their own," Fabian said, staring meaningfully at the basket. "Far too much on their own."
"Those socks fought back," Gideon added. "One tried to strangle me when I folded it. I swear it even had teeth."
"That was a moth, Gidi," Marlene remarked dryly, smoothing the hem of her dress as she sat next to Edgar.
"Moths don't have teeth, Marli," Gideon muttered, pointing at his neck. "This was a bite. Thirty-five teeth, asymmetrical pattern. Completely typical of sock predators."
"I have a feeling this picnic will be very educational," Edgar announced, uncorking a bottle of butterbeer.
"Everything's educational if you make it up convincingly enough," James smirked. "Fabian, show us what the basket can do."
Fabian rolled up his sleeves with theatrical flair, spread his arms as if unveiling the world's greatest secret, and grasped the lid. At once the basket vibrated.
"I think it's telling you: Hands off unless invited," Savage noted, arms crossed against a tree with the kind of smile that meant I like you all, but I won't say it aloud.
"I did ask in my head," Fabian protested, trying again. The lid clicked open.
Steam rose immediately, but not ordinary steam - it smelled of strawberries, raspberries, and something Lily later called childhood on a Sunday morning. From the basket floated a tray of cookies, jars of sparkling lemonade, a plate of sandwiches that rearranged themselves according to each person's preference, and - most astonishing of all - a tiny kitten, which curled up at the edge of the blanket and fell asleep at once.
"Is this... standard issue?" Violet asked, reaching for a cookie.
"Depends what standard you mean," mumbled Gideon with his mouth full of something that looked like pie and tasted like cherry bubblegum.
"James conjured this," Lily explained. "So prepare yourself for lots of things that make no sense and may possibly sting."
"It was just one sauce!" James protested. "And fine, it did dissolve porcelain. But at least it had bold flavor."
"It tasted like vengeance," Edgar muttered.
Violet laughed. She sat among friends, a soft breeze tangling her hair. Meanwhile, the basket continued producing delicacies - some outright absurd: jelly molded into the shape of a frog orchestra, glowing croissants, sandwiches that sang in third harmonies if squeezed rhythmically enough.
"This cookie tried to run away," Fabian reported. "It had legs."
"That was a brownie, you dolt," Marlene said. "It was trying to dance, not escape."
"I was in danger!" Fabian spluttered.
"Danger of embarrassment, sure," Gideon snorted.
Violet watched with a mix of amusement and overwhelming gratitude. She was here. Really here. And so were they. Not as shadows of the past, but as the present - now, in this garden where anything was possible. Even a sandwich duetting with a cherry pie. It felt like stepping into Wonderland.
Savage, quiet and calm, sat beside her and, with his trademark air of being present yet unobtrusive, handed her a teacup. "It has no color. But it tastes like summer," he remarked.
Violet took a sip. He was right. It was a flavor beyond words, only a feeling. "Today everything is right... except it isn't at all," she laughed.
At that moment James raised a cookie and shouted: "Friends! I hereby declare the official opening ceremony of the picnic! This basket may feed us, but we give it meaning!"
The basket gave a little hiccup and spat out a head of lettuce.
"I think it agrees," Lily said.
Meanwhile Fabian had started conducting the jelly orchestra, while the frogs attempted to follow, and Gideon donned the blanket as a cloak, declaring himself Minister of Absurd Affairs. A sun that had never existed shone brighter across the clearing. And amidst the laughter, the cookies, and the smear of jam on her nose, Violet felt that time truly was just an illusion. Only the moment existed. And it was perfect in all its absurdity.
"You're all eating nonstop," Marlene observed, dabbing a cookie crumb from her sleeve with elegance. "But no one here appreciates art."
"I'd appreciate a sandwich without an existential crisis," Edgar grumbled, as his snack asked: "What does it mean to be cheese?"
"Wait," Marlene said. "Let me show you something."
She grabbed a blueberry, a petal from a peculiar violet flower that smelled of baked apple, and a few blades of grass. Everyone assumed she was just being whimsical. And then, in her hands, a fairy came alive. Barely taller than a thumb, she wore a dress of petals, wings glittering like morning dew, and eyes suspiciously similar to Marlene's when she critiqued someone's hairstyle. The fairy bounced lightly, then perched - right on the rim of Violet's juice glass.
"Oh, well," Violet whispered.
The fairy crossed her legs gracefully and spoke in a piercing voice that rang like a singing pin. "Greetings, terrestrial unprepared ones. My name is Floribella Stalked-the-Third, and I have just been created out of fruit energy, unused creativity, and a sprinkle of good mood."
"Right. And I was made out of chocolate, sarcasm, and three failed expulso attempts," Fabian muttered.
Floribella Stalked-the-Third ignored him. "I am here to offer you life wisdom you did not ask for, and advice you never requested."
James leaned back on the blanket, grabbed a cookie, and mumbled with his mouth full: "Sounds like my Aunt Muriel."
The fairy spun around and frowned. "Your aura is cloudy. I sense... plum energy within you. Have you been at odds with yourself ever since you ate a triple-layer jam toast without sufficient emotional preparation?"
James snorted, and Lily choked on her laughter.
"This is... insane," Violet whispered, staring at the fairy on her glass.
Floribella sighed. "Yes, even your citrus drink deceives you. It was meant to be orange, but karma intervened. Now it is grapefruit juice disguised as optimism."
"I knew it!" Marlene exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew she would have a personality!"
"Perhaps too much of one," Edgar remarked, shifting his butterbeer bottle farther away. "My drink doesn't need a diagnosis."
Just then the basket on the blanket stirred again and produced another batch of cookies - this time with faces. One even sported raisin beards.
"This is too much, even for me," Lily said, hiding behind James's shoulder.
Meanwhile, the fairy went on: "Marlene, your creativity has now disrupted the balance of the garden. Could you please stop creating living things from flowers and fruit?" With that, Floribella spread her wings and took off. "And now I'm off to give advice to a cactus," she declared, heading straight toward Gideon.
"This is so absurd," James exhaled.
Meanwhile, the fairy perched on Gideon's shoulder, delivering solemnly: "Don't eat blackberries. Especially if they seem suspiciously affectionate."
"Noted," he mumbled.
And once again, the garden burst into laughter. After all the food, laughter, and fairy sermons, a natural silence settled over the clearing. The basket closed itself gently, as if taking a nap. Glasses stood half-empty, plates littered with crumbs, and someone (most likely Fabian) had begun constructing a castle out of leftover croissants - a castle that bore an uncanny resemblance to Hogwarts.
Lily stretched out on the grass, where dandelions swayed lightly in the breeze. Soon the others followed, one by one. Violet lay beside Marlene, her head resting on a folded cloak, Savage claimed his customary silent place near the tree, and the Prewett brothers, of course, were competing over who could make the better grass angel.
"This is nice," Violet said quietly. "Better than any memory."
"And yet you still think about them, don't you?" Edgar asked, rolling onto his side so he could see her.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Gideon spoke: "Do you remember when I accidentally turned the nightstand into a screaming postal owl?"
Several bursts of laughter erupted.
"READ YOUR MAIL! READ YOUR MAIL!" Fabian imitated the perfect shrill pitch. "That creature screeched even in the bathroom."
"Yes! In the bathroom!" Gideon confirmed eagerly. "Before I even sat down, it already had five delivery slips and a request for confirmation of receipt!"
"And when we tried to silence it with a charm, it learned to whisper: 'Read your mail... or I'll fly after you into bed...'" Marlene gasped, crimson from laughter.
"It actually pecked me once when I ignored it," Edgar admitted, pointing to his earlobe. "To this day, I still flinch when I hear parchment rustle."
The noise subsided, but the laughter still resonated in their bodies like a warm vibration.
"Do you remember," Marlene began, "that mission in Bristol where we were supposed to sneak into the suspected Death Eater's house... and Gideon, you pretended to be a health inspector?"
"Not pretended by accident," Gideon objected with dignity. "I meant to distract him. And no one questions the authority of a man holding a clipboard of forms."
"That clipboard was a trash can lid," Savage noted.
"And it worked!" Gideon defended himself. "The bloke showed me the whole kitchen and even apologized for rancid butter. I think I even made him scrub dried soup out of a pot."
"That soup was part of the evidence!" Edgar cried.
"Case closed, pot washed," Gideon proclaimed theatrically, and everyone burst out laughing.
Fabian sighed. "But I still want to know who in the Order once messed up the patrol schedule in Manchester and sent us a crate of inflatable swans instead of a coded signal."
Everyone turned to James.
"That was... strategic disinformation," James announced with the confidence of a general. "The Death Eaters never figured out what those swans meant. And that was the whole magic of it."
"And you also spent three days swimming with them in the pond," Lily added, nudging him with her elbow.
"That was... personal therapy," James muttered.
Their laughter still lingered in the treetops. The croissant castle slowly crumbled, Fairy Floribella slept in an empty teacup, and the singing pastries quietly slipped back into the basket, which now purred contentedly like a kitten beside it. They lay in the grass, half-asleep, each lost in thought. Above them, the sky-blue heavens pulsed in rhythm with their breath.
And then Lily, softly, almost as if she feared her own question, whispered: "Do you think... do you think someone else will join us?"
A hush fell. Not the warm kind. But the kind that comes when someone speaks a thought everyone has been holding inside.
"You mean... as in someone else has fallen?" Marlene asked cautiously.
Lily nodded. Slowly. "Yes. Or if it's already over. If it's finally the end."
No one answered right away. In the distance, a bird sang - a bird no one had ever seen. The flowers closed ever so slightly, as though listening.
"I don't know," Violet said. "Sometimes I feel like we've been here forever. And other times, like I've only just arrived. Time here... doesn't work. Maybe it's running fast. Maybe slow. Maybe right now... something is being decided."
"Maybe Harry is deciding," Lily whispered. "Whether to keep fighting. Or to leave."
"If he's like you," Violet said gently, "then he fights."
Savage slowly sat up. Not restlessly, but firmly. As if he wanted his words to carry their full weight. He gazed ahead with eyes that seemed to look through the garden and the sky alike.
"Sometimes I wonder what I'd do if everyone came here," he began. "Mundungus. Hestia. Moody. Alice and Frank..." He paused. "And then I realize, as much as I'd love to see them... I hope I won't. Not for a while. I hope they last a bit longer out there. Because if we're here so the world is just a little lighter there, then that's all right."
They all looked at him. Silent. With an understanding deeper than words.
"You're right," Marlene agreed softly. "It's beautiful here. But only because the hard part stays there."
"The silence here is like a reward," Edgar added. "But that doesn't mean I want it for everyone."
James reached out and took Lily's hand. "If anyone ever does show up... we'll be here. But if not - we'll be glad."
Fairy Floribella didn't stir. The basket didn't move. Only droplets of dew sparkled in the grass. The air smelled of quiet assent. For a while they all sat in silence. Not sad. Not tense. But the kind of silence that carries meaning.
And then Fabian yawned theatrically. "So... before another fallen hero rushes in, what do you say we have a tart filled with curdled enlightenment?"
"If it's like the last one that made me reflect on my own shadow, then no, thank you," Gideon muttered.
"Or we could open a new portal," James suggested. "To a dimension where trees wear hats and the weather's tuned on the radio."
"Only if there aren't any swans," Fabian chuckled.
Once again they laughed. Gently. Lightly. And the sky above them glowed a little brighter. The wind played with falling blossoms, and the world around them stayed balanced - between what had been, and what might yet come. No one was in a hurry. No one expected anything. And yet they all knew that when the time came, they would be ready.
But not today. Today, they remained together. In a world where pain does not walk, and laughter carries the tone of eternity.
Chapter 5: The Path Among the Lilacs
Chapter Text
There were times when the garden smelled of laughter. But today it carried a different tone - quiet, introspective, tinged with memories that would not return, yet lingered all the same. It was a moment when the light filtered through the leaves more gently than usual. Violet sat silently by the pond, her feet dipped into the cool water, when Lily joined her. Quietly, wordlessly. The way only she could - being present without disturbing the fragile stillness of the moment.
"Today the garden feels different," Violet whispered. "I can sense it."
Lily smiled, let her fingers brush the surface of the water, then lifted her gaze to the sky. "Some places here hold more than colors. They hold silence."
Violet looked at her. "Silence?"
Lily nodded. "The kind that doesn’t hurt, but speaks."
She stood and offered her hand, which Violet took without hesitation. Lily led her down a path she had never chosen before. The garden seemed to yield to them, as though it knew where they were headed. When they reached a cluster of twisted willows, Lily stopped. She pointed between two trunks. There was an entrance. A wooden arch, overgrown with moss and adorned with feathers that quivered in an invisible breeze.
"This chamber doesn’t always exist," the redhead explained softly. "It only appears when you’re ready to listen to what was left unsaid."
Violet gave a slight nod and stepped inside. The chamber was silent. But the silence was not empty. It was like a deep well into which whispers fell - words the world had never spoken aloud. The walls were woven from shadows and memories. Veils of mist drifted through the air, changing color with each step according to her mood. There was no furniture. Only a blanket of soft light. Violet sat down and closed her eyes. At first, she heard nothing but her own breath. Then came the first voice.
"You were right about me. More than I was about myself." It was her father. Quiet, weary, exactly as she remembered him last. Autumn in his eyes and a regret in his heart he had never spoken aloud. "I wanted to be better. I just didn’t know how. Forgive me for never telling you that."
Violet trembled. But not from pain. From tenderness. Then another whisper rose. Her mother’s voice. Gentle, high, like a veil of silk. "You were brave even as a child. I just never knew how to say out loud how much I admired you." The sound of quiet weeping. And yet a sense of calm. In this space, even tears were part of healing.
And then came another voice - unexpected. "If I had another life, I’d enter it with the same certainty that I’d meet you." Savage.
Violet felt her throat tighten. The chamber was not showing her pain. Only truth. Truth that had come too late, yet somehow still found its way to her.
And then... Sirius. At first only his laughter. That earthy, reckless laugh that always broke just before it burst out fully. Then words, whispered as if the voice didn’t know where to begin. "I regretted every day I didn’t tell you what I felt. I thought we had more time. That I still had a chance to be the man you deserved."
The air in the chamber grew dense. Not suffocating. Just full. Saturated with everything that had never been spoken - but should have been. Violet kept her eyes closed. And yet she felt it - like someone’s hand brushing against her own. Like a finger tracing her cheek.
She opened her eyes again. She was still there. In the chamber where unspoken words found their voice. And yet she had heard them. She rose, and at the chamber’s exit found Lily waiting, leaning against a trunk.
"Did you hear what you needed to?" she asked, and Violet only nodded. "And was it enough?"
"It was everything," Violet answered softly.
Lily embraced her. And as they walked back into the garden, Violet felt lighter with every step. She carried with her all those unspoken words. But they no longer bound her. They were like letters that had arrived late - yet still precisely on time. The world suddenly seemed different. Like when colors brighten after rain, even if the sky remains overcast. The garden felt softer, its fragrance deeper, and every step echoed—not in her ears, but in her heart.
They returned to the pond, where a familiar bench awaited them. And on it, as usual, sat James - legs sprawled, hands gesturing with dramatic flair. Beside him were the Prewett brothers - Gideon frowning in thought, Fabian with arms folded like a practiced debater.
"...which is why I say, if there were a dimension where everything was made of cheese, we shouldn’t visit it without protective gloves and a proper fermentation plan," James concluded with absolute seriousness.
"Or at least a cooling charm," Fabian added.
"Or no sense of smell," Gideon finished.
Violet smiled. A small, delicate smile - but one that filled her whole body. The scene was home: nonsensical, noisy, overflowing with words. She was already moving toward them. She took a few steps across the grass, its blades brushing against her ankles. Her lips parted to greet them - but then she saw it. Behind the bench, between the trees where there had once only been moss and a lilac bush, a path now stretched forward. Narrow, winding, paved with smooth stones. As though it had just been created.
Violet stopped. Held her breath. She felt it. That intangible something that settles in one’s chest just before something great happens. Like hearing your name in a foreign city. Or glimpsing a shape you recognize before you truly see it.
The lilacs around the path trembled lightly, though the air was still. Purple blossoms released their fragrance, familiar somehow - like an unfinished letter, like a breath held too long. Her heart began to race. Not wildly, but with an urgent yet tender rhythm. A tremor spread into her fingertips. Into her palms, her arms, her whole body. A gentle pressure pressed against her chest.
Violet looked at Lily, standing a few steps away. Their eyes met. And Lily - without a word - gave a gentle nod. As if she knew.
Violet took her first step. The path was soft, the stones beneath her feet didn’t slip but yielded. As though they knew where she was going. The trees bent into arches, their branches weaving light with fragrance, the air heavy with expectation. Her breath steadied, but the tension in her chest grew stronger. Not fear. Not pain. Awareness. That something awaited her. That someone awaited her.
Above her, a butterfly circled. It was entirely silver, like spun from moonlight. It landed on a branch and fluttered its wings softly. Violet looked at it - and somehow felt it was smiling at her.
The air now carried a faint spiced scent. No longer as sweet as lilac, but something deeper. Something that carried knowledge. And in that moment she knew she wasn’t far. Just a few more steps. Maybe three. Maybe ten. And then she would see him. The world grew quiet, as though nature itself held its breath, careful not to disturb the moment. Violet walked on. And each step carried her closer.
The path curved into its final bend, and the silence deepened further. Between two ancient trees, their bark draped in silver lichen and their branches bowed low like in reverence, stood a mirror-gate. The mirror looked as though it had been cast from liquid light, yet something deeper flickered within it. Almost like the surface of water, and yet solid, anchored in a frame of branches woven into a circle. Lilac blossoms curled around it, their fragrance heavier now, denser - carrying something ancient.
Violet stopped. Breathless - not from exertion, but from anticipation. Her heart beat to a rhythm that was no longer hers alone. She could feel it, close now. She felt it in every fragment of her being - as if her very skin trembled with memories that had not yet taken shape into words.
She stepped closer to the mirror. The winding path reflected perfectly, save for one detail - in the reflection, it was not her who stood there. It was him.
She froze, as though time had halted, when her heart forgot to beat for a second. He was walking that same path - slowly, cautiously, step by step. His eyes wandered, searching the place as though it felt both familiar and strange at once. There was confusion etched in his expression, the kind of look worn by someone searching for something they could not yet name.
He looked different. Older. Time had left its mark upon him. His features were sharper, his hair longer. His body carried traces of burdens, heavy and relentless. But he was not broken. Only weary. And still - she knew him at once. Not by his face, but by his eyes. Those same eyes as always. Grey, like a sky thick with storm clouds just before the downpour. Wild, unyielding, yet shadowed with quiet pain. As if within them burned a fire that had never gone out completely.
Violet stood in silence. Motionless. Only watching him. And then he stopped too. He stood there, on the other side of the mirror, staring straight at her. It was not recognition. Not certainty. It was something else.
A feeling. The whisper that had followed him all his life. The sense that something was missing, that something was waiting. And now... it was here. Before him. In the mirror. He looked at her. He didn’t know who she was. His features remained steady, but tension sparked in his eyes. Curiosity. And something in his chest - something long silent - suddenly awoke.
Violet lifted her hand. Slowly. Without hesitation. Fingers spread, palm open toward him. She knew it was not yet the time for words. But the gesture... the gesture was enough. Sirius’s hand - hesitant at first - moved in response. As though something guided him. Instinct. A call.
He touched her palm through the mirror. And in that instant... something changed. His eyes - those grey, taut, clouded eyes - widened suddenly. His breath hitched, sharp and desperate. Like someone surfacing from water at last, lungs flooding with air. Like light breaking through darkness in a mind too long forgotten. Memories - shards, fragments, sensations, images, laughter, touches, dreams, scents—everything lost, everything withheld, rushed back to him. The missing piece fell into place. As though his whole life he had been reaching for something nameless and now it was here, resting in his hand.
His breathing steadied. The confusion drained from his gaze. And in its place - understanding. Violet did not move. She only looked at him. And she knew he was back. Whole. Aware. Real.
Their fingers touched across the trembling barrier of the mirror, alive with light and hum. And then, Sirius stepped closer and the mirror dissolved. Gone, like a dream collapsing into waking. Like a veil lifting to reveal what had always been true.
Suddenly, he was there. Before her. Tangible. Flesh and bone. His fingers still wrapped in hers. In his eyes was a flash of recognition, bright enough to light his face but only for a heartbeat. Then came the flood. His knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground, not with violence, but with the weight of a man who no longer wished to hold himself upright. His shoulders rose once. Trembled. A quiet sob escaped - stifled, raw, yet cleansing.
After all of it... After the prison’s darkness, the years of guilt, the hollow dreams and silent nights. He was here. With her.
Violet stood, unmoving, watching him. Her heart thundered in her chest like a bell, yet her body remained calm. Her whole being reached only toward him. And still - she let him breathe. She let him live this moment, knowing that sometimes silence is the greatest gift of all.
Sirius still clung to her hand. He did not release her. He held on like a man who had finally returned home. And then his fingers brushed against metal. He froze. Slowly turned his head, his gaze falling to her hand. On her ring finger gleamed a silver band. Delicate, set with two stones. Worn by time, but whole still. His ring. The one he had given her when neither of them had feared the future. When they had believed it would come.
His eyes rose to hers. Red, glassy. But alive. "You still have it," he whispered, voice trembling with awe and tenderness bound into a single breath.
Violet knelt before him. Her knees sank into the soft grass as her hands enfolded his trembling ones. She looked into his eyes - slowly, deeply - as though reading him anew.
"I never took it off," she said softly. Like a vow that never needed repeating, for it had never been broken.
Sirius closed his eyes. More tears slipped down his cheeks. This time unresisted. Without shame. He was broken and remade, shattered and whole. And all of it happened in her arms.
Violet drew close to him. Slowly. Not as comfort, but as return. As the answer to countless nights when he had been gone. To the silence that had whispered her waiting was never in vain. She embraced him. And he embraced her back. Fierce. Without restraint. Without questions.
They needed no words. Words would have been too much. Everything they had ever needed was in that touch, in the rhythm of hearts that had found their lost beat again. They were in a garden where pain did not enter. Where memories no longer cut. Where presence was everything.
And Sirius laid his forehead upon her shoulder and remained there. With her. And that was all they had ever wanted. More than promises. More than the future. The present. Each other. A place where "too late" did not exist.
Chapter 6: The Butterfly of Fate
Chapter Text
The garden fell silent. No more laughter by the pond, no more explosions. No more Fabian’s quips, James’s wand-waving, or Marlene’s ironic remarks. Only the two of them remained. Sirius and Violet lay in the grass, side by side. The sky above pulsed with gentle shades, as if the heavens themselves were tuning to the rhythm of their breath. The flowers in the grass trembled softly, swaying to a rhythm that felt like a whisper - quiet, intimate.
Sirius had his hands folded beneath his head, eyes fixed on the sky. His chest rose steadily, yet carried tension. As if he still expected this moment to crumble into dust. Violet lay on her side beside him, propping her head with one hand, silently watching him. Every so often, her fingers slipped across the grass to brush lightly against his hand, as though she kept needing reassurance that he was real.
And he was. But only now, in this silence, with just the two of them—only now could it be said aloud.
"Do you feel it?" Sirius asked suddenly, without looking away from the sky.
"What?" Violet whispered, soft as moss.
"The peace. As if the world has finally... stopped screaming." They were quiet for a while. Then he added: "I didn’t remember it. That peace. And least of all you. And that... frightens me more than anything else."
Violet drew a quiet breath. "But now you remember."
Sirius turned his head toward her. His gray eyes were deeper than she remembered. "Yes," he rasped. "As if everything suddenly fell into place. The fragments I carried for years... pieces of a picture I didn’t know I knew. A smile. A scent. A feeling of safety. All of it was you."
Violet laid her hand on his chest. She felt his heart beating beneath it. "And you were my entire world," she whispered. "Even when I lost you. Even when I couldn’t bring you back. I carried you inside me... for so long, that even the pain became part of my love."
Sirius trembled with what her words stirred in him. "I don’t deserve you," he breathed.
"You said that back then, too," she smiled sadly.
"And I hope I was wrong then. Just as I’m wrong now." Their eyes met. "Do you know what’s strange?" Sirius asked.
"What?" Violet’s curiosity was quiet, intent.
"That even though I remember everything, it doesn’t feel like memory. It feels like... returning. As if without you I was only half. And now I know again who I am."
"And who are you?" Violet whispered.
"I’m yours," he said firmly.
For a long time they were silent. Just breathing. The garden around them shivered softly, as though the flowers bent closer, as though time itself had decided to stop running away from them.
"I wanted to tell you so much," Violet whispered. "Everything that happened. What you meant to me. How much I missed your laughter. How afraid I was that you’d forget me. That you wouldn’t remember... that you wouldn’t love me anymore."
Sirius propped his head on his hand and leaned closer to her. "But I love you," he said. "And now... now I remember you in every piece of myself. In every touch. In everything that makes sense to me."
His forehead touched hers. Both closed their eyes. They needed nothing more. It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet. It was acceptance. Return. Silence. And the knowledge that no pain, no loss, no years could ever truly separate them. Because love that survives even death can never be lost. And the garden around them quietly bloomed.
Sirius drew a deep breath, as if to take in the whole moment - her presence, the scent of grass, the rustle of leaves, and the unbearable weight suddenly lifting from his shoulders. They lay together, foreheads touching, their hands still entwined. Time retreated. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, what had been left unsaid, what had torn them apart. They were here. Together.
Violet smiled faintly and said: "Do you remember... that class when you read my tea leaves?"
The corners of Sirius’s mouth twitched. He closed his eyes and nodded quietly. "Merlin save me, yes. I had no idea what I was doing. I was making it up as I went along, just to get something out of you."
"I remembered it," Violet continued softly. "All this time. We sat at the back of the classroom, and you said you saw a path in those leaves. And at its end... two figures."
Sirius opened his eyes. His gaze grew deeper, sharper.
"I kept telling myself it was nonsense... two people meant to meet. Or find each other again."
There was silence. Only a gentle breeze rustled through the grass, as if stroking the words between them.
"And then," she added, "when I saw a new path here... I knew. I felt it. That at its end, there would be you."
Sirius’s fingers tightened around hers. "So..." he said slowly, "even though I had no idea what I was doing back then... I was right?"
"You were right," she confirmed with a faint smile. "It was us. In a future we didn’t even know could become real."
"That’s... insane," Sirius whispered. "And beautiful. And a little terrifying."
"All at once," she nodded.
"Do you know what’s strangest?" he asked. "That even when I forgot you... some part of me always knew. All that time. That feeling that someone was missing. That somewhere there was a place I belonged. That somewhere... was home. I just couldn’t name it."
"And now you can?" she asked softly.
Sirius lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. He closed his eyes, as if trying to press into the gesture everything words could not hold.
"Yes," he whispered. "You are my home."
Violet pressed against him, closed her eyes, and let tears - this time quiet, calm - slide down her cheeks. Tears of relief. Of love. Of gratitude.
Above them bloomed a tree that hadn’t been there before. Its blossoms were white, with a scent of jasmine mingled with lilac. Each petal glowed with a soft light, as though the tree itself knew that right here, in this moment, something had begun again. With no more ending.
Sirius watched for a while as a single tear slid down her face - fragile, clear as morning dew on a flower. He brushed it away with his thumb but never looked away from Violet. He wanted to remember her like this: serene, smiling, present. But then something entirely different flickered in his gaze - mischief. A familiar spark that made Violet a little uneasy.
"What is it?" she asked cautiously.
Sirius blinked innocently. "Nothing. Just... checking if the Butterfly of Fate hasn’t landed between your lashes. They say if you find it, your wish comes true."
"The Butterfly of Fate?" she raised an eyebrow.
"A magical entity. Very rare. Looks exactly like an ordinary speck of dust, but holds deep spiritual meaning," he declared gravely, then gently blew on her face. "Ah look - it flew away. You must have wished for a cookie."
Violet chuckled quietly. The sound was soft, still a little cautious, but Sirius had been waiting for it. This was the sound he hadn’t realized he’d missed so desperately until he heard it again.
"That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard," she smiled.
"Please," Sirius said, flopping dramatically onto his back, "even Dumbledore studied this butterfly myth. I only... refined it into a romantic version."
"Romantic?" Violet teased. "You just told me I wished for a cookie."
"Exactly," Sirius agreed. "And you know what’s better than a cookie? A shared cookie."
"Sirius Black, you are utterly incorrigible," she laughed again.
"And you’re laughing, which means everything is exactly as it should be," he replied contentedly.
Violet chuckled, scooted closer, and rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily, calmly against her temple.
"Do you know I dreamed of this?" Violet murmured, her voice muffled in his shirt. "Not of a wedding, not of grand gestures... just of you breathing beside me again."
Sirius went still. Then he slid his hand into her hair and gently combed his fingers through it. There was nothing contrived in the gesture - only tenderness. "Well... but a wedding is still on the table," he said in deadly seriousness.
Violet pulled back, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, what?"
"I may be dead, but I still intend to marry you," he shrugged. "And when better to enjoy it than when you can’t die from the stress of planning?"
Violet laughed. She laughed until tears shone in her eyes. "So you’re saying we have infinity to plan?"
"Yes. And exactly that many chances for me to officially steal you for myself." Sirius smirked. "Maybe even twice. We could have a gloriously dramatic divorce on the day we argue about tea flavors."
"And then a second wedding under this tree, with its blossoms falling on our heads like confetti," Violet added.
At that moment, as if on cue, one of the white blossoms drifted down and landed softly, silently - right between their hands.
"See?" Sirius said, turning to her and pulling her close. "That’s fate. Or that damned butterfly I keep seeing everywhere."
Violet curled into him. Her laughter sounded in his chest like a song he had once forgotten but now knew by heart.
Sirius closed his eyes and whispered: “Here. Here is my beginning. And... your last chance to run before I get sentimental."
"Too late," she smiled. "I’ve already fallen for your catastrophic sense of humor."
And so they lay there, entwined, at peace, in the lightness of the moment. Above them, the garden whispered; around them, flowers breathed their fragrance; and Sirius knew he would do anything to hear that laughter - her laughter - every single day. Even if it meant catching the Butterfly of Fate... or surviving his own wedding.
For a moment Sirius’s smile faded. His fingers still moved gently through Violet’s hair, but his gaze fixed on the sky, now darkening slightly, as if it too sensed something heavier was coming. His lips trembled before he spoke - quietly, unexpectedly fragile.
"You know... I regret we never told them," he said suddenly.
Violet turned to him softly, her breath catching. She didn’t ask what he meant. She knew.
"That there was more between us. What we wanted. That we were building... something of our own." His voice cracked. He drew a deep breath to steady it. "I let you come with us. I thought that if I kept you in sight, I could protect you. And in the end I lost not only you, but... the little one, too." He broke off.
Violet pressed closer to him. Her hand rested calmly on his chest, right where it hurt most. She said nothing. Not yet. She simply stayed.
Sirius closed his eyes. "You don’t know how much I looked forward to it," he whispered. "That small life between us. To the days you’d laugh because the child would inherit my hair and your logic. And then... there was nothing. Only the prison of my own mind. Silence. Guilt. And memories that shattered inside me like shadows. And I... I knew nothing but pain."
Violet stroked his cheek. "I thought of it every day," she whispered. "But I never blamed you, Sirius."
"I didn’t protect anyone," he said, broken.
Violet nodded. Then softly, calmly, like a leaf settling on water, she said: "But we are here now. Together. And everything we lost lives within us. It didn’t vanish. It just transformed."
Sirius turned toward her and curled into her arms the way only those can who have carried their burdens alone for too long. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in forever, he allowed himself simply... to be. With her. Above them the wind whispered through the trees. One of the white blossoms floated down and landed on Sirius’s shoulder. Violet smiled faintly, lifted it, and held it in her palms like a talisman. Like a reminder that they had found each other again.
"You know," she said softly, "I feel like here... nothing can go wrong anymore."
Sirius smiled faintly, his voice quiet and full of tenderness. "And even if it could, I’d do it with you."
They remained lying in the soft grass, their hands still joined. Two people who had been lost. And then found again. Not in memory. But in the present. In a silence where there was nothing left to lose. Only to gain. Only to live it all.
Chapter 7: Heavy on the Heart, Light on the Tongue
Chapter Text
The four of them sat beneath the blooming crown of an old tree, its branches bending low, almost as if they wanted to listen. A table had grown up between them - not because someone needed a place to set something down, but because the garden knew it was time to sit, to share, to listen. On the little table appeared a teapot, which occasionally poured itself, and cups that shifted color according to the mood of the one holding them. All four held their own, but none took a sip.
Sirius spoke. For a long time. He talked without interruption, and when his voice faltered, Violet, sitting beside him, only gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. He told them everything - from the moment he lost them, through the years in Azkaban, up to the last battle at Harry’s side.
Then came silence. No one moved. Lily sat with her hands clasped, eyes lowered, but with a trace of a smile on her lips. Not pretense, but quiet, grateful understanding. James rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tense, and Sirius stared off into the distance, as though he hadn’t quite returned from those memories. Violet studied their faces. And then, as if the garden finally exhaled with them, the teapot turned itself, reminding them that the world still turned. Even if there was no longer any need to rush.
James cleared his throat and stretched. "So..." he began with a smile that carried more than just relief, "our boy survived Voldemort’s return, grew up among Muggles, took down a few Death Eaters, and still manages to keep a hairstyle that looks like it was tortured by my fifth-year comb."
For the first time in a while, Sirius nodded. "Exactly. And on top of that, everyone insists he has Lily’s eyes, but I’d say he looks more like you - with a scar on his forehead."
Lily laughed.
"Incredible," James shook his head with a smirk. "Tell me, did he inherit any of my charm?"
"A few dramatic entrances into rooms. And the ability to speak exactly when he should stay quiet," Sirius replied dryly.
Lily pulled her cup closer, which glowed a soft pink in her hands, and shook her head with a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like you, James. Just with a touch of added responsibility."
James stroked his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "So you’re saying Harry’s like me... but without the kind of brilliant magical decisions that ended in a flying library?"
"Or a burning desk in Transfiguration," added Lily.
Violet smiled and lightly squeezed Sirius’s hand, as if to draw him gently back into the warmth around them. "Honestly, Harry managed everything we couldn’t - and he even learned how to cook at the Dursleys’," she remarked.
"And maintain relationships, which we weren’t exactly masters of either," Lily added.
"Now hold on," James raised his hands, "some of us were absolutely brilliant at that."
Sirius raised a brow. "Yeah, about as brilliant as your attempts to convince Violet you could read her future from Chocolate Frog cards."
Violet smirked. "That was the moment I seriously considered throwing you out a window."
"Oh, come on, Violet, admit it - you’ve always had a weakness for complicated men with terrible life planning," James grinned, turning to her with the look of someone who had just pulled an ace from his sleeve. “And who’s a bigger magnet than Sirius Black - a walking disaster in an elegant package?"
Violet lifted her chin with mock pride. "I choose men with a soul... and maybe a slightly chaotic schedule."
"Ah," James leaned back dramatically on the bench, "so we’ve officially reached the part of eternity where Sirius Black, the biggest trouble magnet in history, comes across as the mature type with the charm of a diplomat."
Sirius smirked and leaned his elbow on the bench’s backrest. "Well, if that means I look better than you, I’ll gladly get used to the role."
"You’ve got the style for it," Violet acknowledged. "That afterlife glow suits you."
"And that faint touch of melancholy around the eyes," added Lily. "Always a plus."
"Stop flattering me," Sirius grinned. "I’ll become dangerous even here."
"You’ve been dangerous for ages, mate," James sighed. "Only now, instead of bludgers, you’re wrecking the emotional balance of everyone present."
They all laughed again. This time louder, lighter - neither weary nor sad.
Lily wiped away tears of laughter with her sleeve and shook her head with a smile. "Seriously, Sirius. You should warn passersby that your 'I-know-more-than-I’m-saying' look can cause emotional confusion."
"I’ll put it on a business card," Sirius replied, sprawling more comfortably on the bench. "'Emotionally hazardous - do not expose to direct sunlight or open conversations.'"
James stretched out his legs and looked at them. "Hey, since we’re sitting here pretending we’ve got everything both ahead and behind us, shouldn’t we finally settle that one thing we never managed?"
They all turned to him. "I mean the wedding," he clarified. "And I think it’s time we fixed that. Not for tradition’s sake... but because I want to see Sirius try to say yes without rehearsing it in front of a mirror first."
Sirius laughed. "That’s the plan. And not only could I do it - I’d say it with grace."
"Grace is a strong word for someone who last wore his dress robes inside out," Lily remarked.
At that, a chuckle rose behind them. The air shimmered, and from the bushes emerged Gideon and Fabian like ghosts, both with expressions of deep interest.
"Did we hear the word 'wedding?'" Gideon asked, and before anyone could react, he was already plopping down at the edge of the bench next to Lily.
"And without inviting us? That’s scandalous at the very least," Fabian added, crossing his leg dramatically. "Might I remind you we once organized three jailbreaks, two balls, and one fake funeral? A wedding will be a piece of cake."
James laughed and clapped his hands. "This is exactly what I needed! Gentlemen, let’s plan it. It’ll be legendary. Where do they even hold afterlife ceremonies? A rainbow gazebo?"
"Or beneath the Waterfall of Emotions?" Fabian suggested. "They say it reacts to the strength of feeling, and if it’s intense enough, a harp of ferns begins to play."
"And the officiant could be... that eternally grumpy little cloud above the third tree on the left. Very solemn," added Gideon.
Violet buried her face in her hands. "This is not a good idea."
"Well, as long as it’s not those talking ferns. Remember the ones in Diagon Alley?" Gideon carried on, ignoring her. "I walked past one and it said, 'tragedy in a robe'. I still carry that with me."
"Anyway," Fabian continued, "the key question is: Violet, are you sure you want to marry someone who, since we last saw him, has visibly aged?"
"And lost half his rebellion?" added Gideon.
"And when surprised, says 'hm' instead of blowing the doors off their hinges?" Fabian put in.
Sirius raised a hand. "Gentlemen. I’d like to remind you that despite certain... details, I can still keep up with your nonsense, outmatch you in any war of words, and in case of emergency, turn the bench you’re sitting on into a talking wheelbarrow."
"Now that sounds like a groom with ambition," James grinned. "See? This is going to be the wedding of the century."
"And I’ll design Sirius’s suit," Fabian offered. "Dark, elegant... embroidered with tiny, deeply worried cats."
"Why cats?" Violet asked, baffled.
"Because when they look at you, they’ll have the same expression we all wore watching you in our youth - fascination, slight confusion, and deep, deep doubt," Fabian explained.
Sirius laughed, leaned closer to Violet, and whispered: "Think of it as a test. If we survive them... we’ll survive anything."
Violet smiled, shook her head, and though she rested her forehead on his shoulder, her eyes sparkled.
"Excellent!" James exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pacing back and forth like he was leading a war council. "So: wedding. Unlimited budget, zero stress, maximum effect. What do we need first?"
"Cake," Fabian said without hesitation. "No, wait. Two cakes. One normal, and one with a surprise."
"Savage inside?" Gideon suggested with an innocent look.
Sirius peered at him over the rim of his cup. "If you stuff anyone inside that cake, I swear I’ll turn you both into dancing ducks."
"And is that a threat or an offer?" Fabian asked hopefully.
"A surprise cake I can get behind," Lily chimed in. "But only if the surprise isn’t exploding fondant. That was your idea last time, James."
"Fine, cake sorted," Gideon declared with a theatrical nod. "Now... the ceremony venue?"
"Here," Violet said immediately. "Under this tree. Overlooking the pond. But without talking flowers."
"No talking flowers?" Fabian repeated, disappointed. "But I already had an idea with an orchid that sings hymns of devotion and occasionally quotes Dumbledore."
"If that orchid ever mentions hats, it goes straight to the compost," Lily warned.
"What about the officiant?" James asked. "We should pick someone... dignified."
"Or at least someone who can speak without tripping over their wand twice," Sirius remarked.
"That was only once!" James protested.
"And you landed headfirst in a tray of pies," Lily reminded him.
"So we have two options," Gideon said, counting on his fingers. "Option A: one of us does it. Stylish, heartfelt, tearful. Or option B: we use a recording of some old wizard’s voice that starts every thirty seconds with, 'And now, your attention please...'"
"I suggest a compromise," James offered. "The officiant speaks seriously, but between every line a string quartet of raccoons in robes plays."
"And where exactly are we supposed to find raccoons?" Violet asked, now suspicious.
"A musically inclined dimension. Fabian has connections," James explained.
"I know a conductor. He’s a ferret, but he has perfect pitch," Fabian confirmed.
Violet shook her head, laughing into her hand. "How do you make even wedding planning sound like a stage farce with magical props?"
"It’s our gift," Gideon shrugged. "Also the reason nobody ever hired us for the Department of Magical Ceremonies."
"But the Department of Bizarre Ideas with High Explosion Risk gave us lifetime membership," Fabian added.
"So you’re getting married, that’s settled," James summed up. "And it’ll be the event of the century. Only one question remains: will there be a bouquet toss?"
"Of course!" the Prewett brothers shouted at once.
"And whoever catches it is obliged to host the next wedding. That’s the law of the garden," Gideon declared solemnly.
And as if to confirm his words, the branches above them glowed faintly, and a white ribbon fell from one of the blossoms straight onto Sirius’s head.
Sirius just closed his eyes, lifted his hands, and proclaimed with a mock-resigned sigh: "Fine, fine. We’ll do it that way. But only if the cake doesn’t talk."
Lily leaned closer to him and said: "And if it does... we’ll just eat it before it starts."
James sprawled on his back in the grass and gazed up at the sky. Then suddenly sat up with the look of someone struck by genius. Which usually meant either trouble or unbelievably entertaining chaos.
"I just had a thought," he began slowly, drawing everyone’s attention. "What if... we spiced things up after the ceremony with a little game?"
"James, your 'little games' usually end with either an explosion or permanent hair-color change," Lily noted suspiciously.
"No! This time it’s brilliant," James assured her, raising a finger dramatically. "Everyone draws a name - someone we all at least vaguely know. Could be anyone: from the Order, from Hogwarts, from the battles... And then you have to become that person for a while. Their behavior, their speech, their expressions. The rest guess who it is, when we last met them, and what their biggest quirk was."
Fabian straightened at once. "I’m in. I can already see myself as Moody. 'Constant vigilance! Not even your own socks are safe!'"
Gideon burst out laughing. "And I’ll be Elphias Doge! I’ll offer everyone exactly seven kinds of tea and leave them convinced I live in the library."
Violet pressed her palm to her forehead. "This is going to get out of hand."
"But in the best possible way," Sirius laughed. "Let the game fit the place. This garden is anything but ordinary. And I’m starting to think I like it that way."
"See?" James said triumphantly. "Sirius gets it. This isn’t a standard wedding with solemn music and stiff silence. This is a wedding in a garden where even the flowers look offended and the glasses change places if you stare at them too seriously."
"Alright," Violet said with a hint of surrender, "but if anyone impersonates me at sixteen, with that ridiculous braid and too much trust in potions, I’ll throw the bouquet straight into the lake."
"In that case it’ll be you at seventeen, when you first silenced Sirius so thoroughly he went wandering around the castle for two hours," James remarked.
"That wasn’t silence. That was..." Sirius waved his hand, "introspection."
Gideon laughed. "And what about Sirius in Azkaban?"
"No!" Sirius and Violet cried at once.
"No one wants you spending two hours looking like plaster and whispering, 'No, really, I’m fine,'" Violet added.
"So it’s settled," James declared. "We’ll draw names. Bonus points for perfectly accurate voices or poorly fitting robes."
"And the prize?" Fabian asked. "Besides honor and humiliation?"
"The winner gets to write one line into the official wedding vows of the happy couple," James announced solemnly.
Sirius and Violet immediately turned to each other. "Absolutely not!" they burst out in unison.
Violet sighed, but smiled. "If the wedding is meant to be the beginning of our eternity... then let it begin with laughter."
Sirius took her hand, kissed it, and whispered: "And a pinch of madness."
The garden around them shimmered lightly, as if nodding in amused agreement, while James, Gideon, and Fabian were already planning out the list of roles. And so, in the midst of a gentle breeze, their wedding began to take shape - not the kind from fairy tales, but one born of friendship, chaos, and love.
Chapter 8: Only Forever - Part One
Chapter Text
The garden had not yet fully awakened, but the light was soft and golden, as if it were smiling by itself. The grass smelled of dew, and mint drifted through the air like the breath of someone who never hurries. Silence reigned everywhere - broken only by the mismatched cacophony of panic from a more distant part of the garden. James, Gideon, and Fabian were circling about, searching for formal robes, raccoons, cake, or perhaps even the meaning of their existence.
"Gideon, where is that robe?" James fumed.
"I didn’t have it! Fabian said it was with the spices," Gideon protested.
"That was a month-old joke, you blockhead!" his brother argued.
Violet heard them perfectly well, but she didn’t turn around. She was sitting on soft moss beneath the old tree, legs folded, wildflowers woven into her hair, and in her hands a garland she braided with the calm of a fairy who had never known chaos. Beside her rested a cup of mint tea that refilled itself whenever the level dipped below the threshold of dignified serenity.
Her dress - if it could even be called that - was made of living flowers entwined with a fine structure of leaves, a gift offered by the garden itself. It wasn’t a gown in the ordinary sense but rather an expression of gratitude from nature that had welcomed her among its own.
"So this is what pre-wedding calm looks like?" a voice came from behind, and Violet smiled.
Sirius stood nearby, hands in his pockets, hair slightly tousled, expression amused, but with a clear spark in his eyes. He wore plain black trousers and a shirt he had not yet refused - unlike the robe he now held between two fingers, as if it were something infectious.
Violet glanced at the robe - black velvet embroidered with kittens bearing an expression of profound understanding, with a sheen that seemed to change color depending on... something unidentifiable.
"And what is it showing now?" she asked with amusement.
"I think mild panic. Or hunger. Hard to tell," he chuckled.
At that moment James came running up. He was barefoot but wore a solemn expression. In one hand he held a piece of cake, in the other a raccoon. "Cake confirmed. Raccoons confirmed. Things are moving."
"James," Violet addressed him kindly, "why do you have a piece of curtain on your head?"
"That’s the veil of authority," he said proudly, stroking the raccoon’s head. "Besides - and this is important - I have my wedding speech ready."
"Tell me it’s not a poem," Sirius muttered.
"It’s not a poem," James confirmed. "It’s an epic."
"Merlin," Violet exhaled.
"With a lecture titled How Not to Lose Love While Escaping," James added.
"Can you just promise me you won’t use the word lecherous?" Sirius asked.
"No. But I can replace it with passionate," James announced.
Just then Gideon and Fabian burst out from behind the bushes. One held a wand, the other two spoons, both looking as though they had just saved the world.
"We found the box with the ceremonial ties!" Gideon shouted.
"And in one of them was a little squirrel claiming to be a witness," Fabian added.
"We didn’t believe it, but she looked more trustworthy than James," Gideon explained.
"Everyone looks more trustworthy than James," said Lily, arriving with an elegant lavender crown. "Including the cake that whispers poems."
Sirius frowned. "That still exists?"
"More precisely - it’s reciting. For now," Lily replied with the face of someone who could no longer be surprised by anything.
Violet sighed, stood, and checked whether her garland had caught on the branches. "All right. Who has the schedule?"
"No one," the Prewett brothers answered in unison.
"But we do have an emotional map drawn by a raccoon," Fabian added.
Sirius rubbed his temple. "Raccoon navigation. What did we do to deserve this?"
Not far away, a raccoon quartet began playing the first notes of a rehearsal piece, which sounded suspiciously like a variation on the Quidditch march.
"All right," Violet said, turning to Sirius. She placed her hands on his chest and, smiling, straightened his shirt. "Promise me just one thing."
"Anything," he answered automatically.
"That this won’t get out of hand," she added.
"Violet," he said, eyes full of love and amusement. "This is only the warm-up round."
And so the wedding day began. Not perfect. Not traditional. But theirs.
The garden had changed. It did not exhale aloud, nor did it shift in color, yet it was clear it recognized the moment - unique, significant, sacred. The air grew heavier, though not oppressive. More like a silk shawl that embraces and wraps you in a silence unwilling to be broken. Every leaf, every shadow among the branches, every faint sound carried meaning.
The raccoon string quartet, which Fabian had convinced to participate for a few berries and the promise of dramatic applause, now stood on a small improvised platform made of three roots and a creaky tray. Violin, viola, cello, and something resembling a harp. The first notes were delicate - almost inaudible. The raccoon harpist gave a slight bow and nodded to the rhythm. The melody shifted into precisely the mixture of emotions that belonged to this day: calm, laughter, tenderness. And a touch of chaos.
Lily stood behind Violet, giving her floral crown a final adjustment as it kept trying to bloom with fresh flowers. Every time she thought it was finished, new pink buds appeared. The wreath had a mind of its own.
"It’s like you," Lily murmured with a smile. "A little stubborn, a little restless. But beautiful exactly as it is."
Violet glanced back at her with a smile. "I’ll take that as a blessing."
"It’s a blessing, a threat, and a challenge all in one," Lily replied. "But also a reminder that this is all real. That you’re here. And that today... you finally say yes."
Violet felt her throat tighten. It wasn’t nerves. She was calmer than she had expected. It was the weight of the moment. That everything she had once lost was now returning - quietly, in flowers, in friends, in memories. And above all in him.
Sirius stood before Savage, his body angled slightly toward the lake, arms resting loosely at his sides. He wore no robe. In the end, he had chosen a simple dark-gray shirt and a vest without buttons. And yet, or perhaps because of it, he looked like someone who wasn’t there for the formality - but for the vow he had already long since made.
There was a strange light in his eyes. Not the shine of tears - those he had already shed. But something deeper. A sense of home. Of peace. And of infinite reverence for the moment unfolding before him. When he heard the faint rustle behind him, he turned slightly. And saw her.
Violet walked slowly, the air around her seeming to shimmer with soft light. Her gown of flowers moved with her, swaying gently as though part of her breath. On her head sat the crown that had finally ceased resisting - it bloomed just as it should. No more. No less.
When Sirius saw her, he held his breath. This was no flash of the past. Not a memory of the girl he had once loved. This was a woman who had crossed through time, sorrow, and death and yet had lost none of her essence. She walked like someone who had survived everything, but had never stopped believing.
Violet lifted her head, and their eyes met. She did not smile. Not right away. That gaze was silent, but it carried everything they had never been able to say in the time denied to them. Sirius stood frozen, unable to move, but warmth flooded through him.
And then she took the last step. She reached him. Stopped just before him. Sirius raised his hand and, without realizing, brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. And this time, she smiled. Just a little. But he knew it was a smile for him. For them.
Behind them, the music shifted. The raccoon violinist slid into a gentle modulation, as if even he knew this was the moment. The world held its breath.
Savage stood calmly beneath the blossoming tree, his back to the lake, his face to the couple before him - two souls who had long since found one another. His posture was upright, hands folded loosely in front of him, his presence steady, like an ancient tree under whose shade one hides on a hot day. When he spoke, it was not with a loud voice, but with a deep one. He knew he did not need to raise it. Everyone around was listening.
"Love," he began slowly, "is not a gift we are given. It is a choice we make, again and again. Even when the world is silent. Even when time slips away. Even when death closes its doors. Love remains."
He lifted his eyes to Violet and Sirius. They both looked back at him - not as at a friend, but as at someone holding in his hands a moment greater than they had ever imagined.
"Today we stand here not because you met one another. But because you did not lose one another. Not even when it seemed that everything had ended. Your bond did not expire, did not fade, did not vanish into oblivion. It only waited. Quietly. Patiently."
Sirius did not move. But something rose in his chest he could not name. Violet beside him did not look away. She was anchored. And yet light, quiet, beautiful, in perfect harmony with the moment.
Savage went on: "There are times when even eternity must pause. To bow its head. And today it has done so. Because even death - and believe me, I know it well - had to step aside for what you carried across abysses, across loss, and through waiting."
Behind them, the raccoon quartet softened its melody to the very edge of hearing. The music remained but barely. Only as the faint echo of a heartbeat.
"Your story does not begin today," Savage said. "It began long ago. In glances, in laughter, in touches remembered by body and soul alike. And there is no vow that can change what already has been. Yet still you stand here today because you have chosen. That even here, even in this otherworld, you wish to be together. Not out of duty. Not out of habit. But because nothing else will ever be as true."
Sirius closed his eyes. In his mind, all the days when he had wished to hear her voice flooded back. Memories returned in a rush - painful, beautiful, unreachable. And yet she stood here. Real. His. Violet felt the faint tremor in her fingertips. But it was not uncertainty. It was strength. It was the weight of the moment settling within her forever.
Savage paused, as if to give the two of them space to breathe. Then, quietly, simply, but with unwavering solemnity, he added: "Before the eyes of those who have loved you and love you still, before the garden that remembers more than we can ever understand, and before eternity, which now cradles your heads in its hands... I ask."
He turned to Sirius. His voice was calm, deep, and carried more than words - it carried experience, serenity, and reverence for what he was about to join.
"Sirius Black," he began softly, "do you take Violet Newmann as your partner in a world where time does not flow, yet love still grows? Do you choose her again - not for the past, but for what endures between you?"
Sirius gazed at Violet. All the years, all the words he had never spoken, all the grief and all the hope - it all flashed through his eyes. And then he smiled, gently.
"Yes," he whispered. "With all my heart."
Savage turned to Violet. "Violet Newmann, do you take Sirius Black as the one you never forgot - not because he has returned, but because he never left your heart? Do you choose him today knowing that love is not comfort, but truth that remains in eternity?"
Violet drew in a breath and looked straight at him. Into the eyes she knew. Into the face that had changed and yet was still home. "Yes," she said. "Without doubt."
Savage looked between them. For a moment, he did not move at all. Then - a quiet smile. Rare. Warm. "Then I declare you soulmates of this eternity. Forever - not as a promise, but as a simple fact."
And the raccoon orchestra, as if on cue, broke into a cheerful finale. The melody unfurled into notes that sounded like leaves dancing in the wind. Sirius stepped closer. He took her hands, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Gently. Deeply.
A kiss that was not a beginning, but a confirmation. Not a vow, but a return. And within that silent touch of lips lay the years - the lost ones, and the ones waiting ahead. The garden wrapped them in warm stillness, as if it knew that sometimes silence must fall so the heart may speak.
"Well then," James whispered, holding Lily’s hand, "they’ve made it." The redhead looked at him with tenderness in her eyes and gave his hand a light squeeze.
Gideon, meanwhile, reached dramatically into his pocket and pulled out a tiny lace-edged napkin. "It’s too much," he said theatrically, dabbing his eyes with an exaggerated sob. Fabian, beside him, pulled from his pocket an identical napkin - this one embroidered with a sad unicorn - and nodded. "I never thought I’d live to see the day."
"Miracles do happen," Edgar murmured, while Marlene quietly rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the couple beneath the tree.
Savage stepped aside, leaving them a moment alone. Not because it was written into the ceremony, but because he felt that this instant belonged only to them. It did not deserve interruption. Violet still held Sirius’s hands, laughter and tears shining in her eyes. They just stood there.
"So... what now?" she asked softly, with a smile that carried all the relief in the world.
Sirius did not answer at once. He only looked at her. And then, with a spark in his eyes, he said: "Now? Now we begin to live, Mrs. Black."
And around them, new blossoms opened. The tree dropped a few petals upon their shoulders - not many, just enough. The raccoon orchestra leapt into a merry waltz, where now and then a stray chord sounded suspiciously like a sneeze, but no one minded. Gideon was already trying to persuade the violinist to play something "a little jazzier," while Fabian handed out heart-shaped cakes (two of which, entirely by chance, were spiced with chili).
James stood opposite them with arms flung wide. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me, as the self-appointed chief coordinator of joy, to declare the wedding celebration begun!"
The garden answered with a faint drift of lilac fragrance and that strange light that seemed to shine from within. And Violet, before she turned to the others, whispered softly into Sirius’s ear: "Imagine. We had a whole lifetime for this, and still managed only after death."
Sirius placed his hand upon her back. "Sometimes eternity is worth the wait."
And then, hand in hand, they stepped toward their friends.
Chapter 9: Only Forever - Part Two
Chapter Text
The garden awakened to life. Leaves whispered softly overhead, the raccoon strings struck up a picturesque chaos, and all the wedding guests gathered around the cake that Violet and Sirius were about to cut.
When Sirius made the first slice, a sharp and entirely formal voice rang out: "Surprise!"
After a brief silence, a small marzipan hat with a pensive expression rose from the cake and bowed. Its voice sounded grave and wise: "Dear newlyweds, for your love to blossom forever, be kind to each other even in the moments when the other loses their wand... or their memory."
The garden fell silent - and then laughed. Even the flowers seemed to squeal with joy. Sirius smirked, Violet frowned. Gideon and Fabian looked guilty and immediately dropped their previous remarks.
Gideon leaned toward the crowd: "All right, fine, the experiment was mine. I wanted to create a magical dessert that would hold the essence of a vow... and what came out was this little talking philosopher made of marzipan."
At that, James cleared his throat theatrically and climbed onto a stump that was suspiciously placed right in the middle of the space. In his hand he held a parchment that looked important from afar but up close bore tea stains, a few chocolate smudges, and a small drawing of a raccoon with a violin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began with a grin, "friends, family, witnesses of magic and victims of our collective ideas... Today we celebrate something extraordinary. Not only has Sirius Black finally admitted that romance suits him, but it also turns out Violet has more patience than the entire Hogwarts staff combined."
There were a few chuckles, Sirius shook his head and slipped an arm around Violet’s waist.
"I remember the day," James continued, "when Sirius first spoke about Violet. He claimed she was 'fine.' In the same tone he usually used to talk about new leather boots he hadn’t yet had the chance to ruin. And then we caught him watching her in the library, as though the shelves were hiding the very answer to the meaning of the universe."
The crowd laughed again. Fabian clutched Gideon’s shoulder as he shook with laughter, and Marlene clapped her palm against her thigh.
James paused, smoothed his robe with theatrical dignity, and continued with the look of a sage who had just discovered the holy grail of absurdity: "And do you know what our romantic hero did next? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just stood there, staring at her like she was a rare magical artifact, and then - swear on Merlin - he turned to me and asked, 'Do you think she likes dogs?'"
Violet rolled her eyes and Sirius buried his face in his hand. The audience burst into laughter. Gideon nearly collapsed onto the grass, and Lily covered her mouth to keep from crying with laughter.
"And when I told him, 'She likes books, Sirius,' he took it literally! Remember, Padfoot, when you went into the library and pulled out that copy of Potions That Won’t Kill You but Will Definitely Embarrass You?"
"It was an attempt at intellectual impression," Sirius muttered, trying - and failing - to maintain dignity.
James laughed and went on: "And then it happened. The first attempt at flirting. This deserves to be recorded - Sirius Black, master of sarcasm and shattered plans, walked up to Violet and asked, 'So, do you believe in fate?'"
"And I answered, 'Yes, and now fate will decide whether I hit you with this book,'" Violet added with an innocent smile, sparking another roar of laughter.
"And that was the moment," James raised his finger dramatically into the air, "that we knew these two were meant to be. Because Sirius walked away that day with a bruise and a smile."
"Not necessarily in that order," Lily added.
"And that, my friends, is romance," James proclaimed. "Not roses, not serenades but that moment when someone snaps, 'Don’t talk to me until you understand my tea ritual.'"
"And that is also, if you please," James continued with a grin, "the first chapter of my proposed bestseller: How Not to Lose Love While on the Run."
Several people applauded, Edgar shook his head as if he’d heard this speech a dozen times before - and perhaps he had - and Gideon pulled a tiny scroll from his robe to start taking notes.
"Chapter One," James declared solemnly. "Never go on a date in the Forbidden Forest. It’s not romantic. And if you think coexisting with a herd of centaurs will enrich your soul - no, it’ll enrich you with an arrow in your back. Chapter Two: Save confessions of love for after the battle. Before the fight you already have enough trouble staying alive."
"But seriously now," James said, softening his tone. "These two lost each other and found each other again across a time beyond most of our comprehension. And yet here they are. Together. With smiles, with laughter, and with the knowledge that even though it wasn’t easy, it was never meaningless."
Violet smiled at Sirius. He smiled back. James fell silent, glanced around the garden, and finished with a grin: "So let us raise our glasses! To love that outlasted time. To friends who can’t bake a cake without a talking hat. And to the fact that even when everything changes, some things stay the same - like Sirius, typically in a dark shirt, and Violet still looking at him the way she did back in the library. Only with less need to throw a textbook at his head."
Sirius leaned in and whispered in Violet’s ear: "If anyone brings up another embarrassing story from my past, we’re escaping to that dimension with all the pillows."
"Only if you wear the kitten robe," she replied with an innocent smile.
Glasses clinked in a light, celebratory harmony, the bubbles in them gleaming like drops of morning dew. As everyone toasted, Sirius chuckled at Violet and arched his brow mischievously.
"Champagne that tastes like strawberries," he murmured.
"And smells like summer memories of something that never happened," Violet added, taking a sip.
"And now, my friends," James shouted, raising his glass toward the sky, "I hereby officially begin the entertainment of this not-quite-conventional day! The rules are simple. Everyone draws a name - a character we all know. Then you imitate them. Behavior, speech, tics, ideally some bizarre moment. The rest of us guess who it is, when it happened, and why it should amuse us."
Everyone burst into laughter, glasses clinked again, and Fabian immediately lunged toward the hat with slips of paper that had appeared on the table.
"Me first!" he souted.
"No, me first!" Gideon argued, charging after him.
"Gentlemen, please! I’m older by seven minutes," Fabian reminded him, holding the hat above Gideon’s head, out of reach.
"Which makes you seven minutes less fresh!" Gideon shot back, trying to snatch it.
Lily laughed and remarked: "If this is the start of a wedding game, then it’ll be a duel first and a performance second."
"Exactly," Sirius snorted. "Can’t wait until they imitate Moody. Two potatoes in flannel with paranoia."
At last Fabian triumphantly pulled a slip from the hat and unfolded it like a fateful prophecy. Then he looked around and, in a deep, solemn voice, declared: "Ah... weather. An interesting concept, don’t you think? For what else are clouds but the vapors of our souls gathering above our choices, only to rain down drops of doubt from on high?"
At first there was silence. And then - "That’s Dumbledore!" Lily shouted.
"And I’m guessing it’s that dinner when we only asked him if it would rain tomorrow," James added.
"And instead of answering he told us how he once saw his youth in a raindrop," Violet chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
"And finished with, 'Not everything that is wet must be sad,'" Sirius said.
"Exactly!" Fabian made a deep bow, so deep the flower crown he had inexplicably donned fell from his head. "That was my finest Dumbledore reincarnation. I feel fifty years wiser. And slightly more confused."
"So who’s next?" Edgar shouted. "I’m beginning to enjoy myself immensely!"
Gideon shot his hand into the air like he meant to catch lightning itself. "Me! And this time without physical violence from my dear brother."
"That wasn’t violence, it was dramatic acrobatics," Fabian retorted, still straightening the crown on his head.
Gideon reached into the hat, swirled his hand as though choosing from a mysterious fate, and with theatrical slowness drew out a slip. As soon as he unfolded it, the corners of his mouth curled into an expression that promised total chaos.
He took a deep breath, rubbed his hands together, and then... "Hmm... eh... well, you see... I wasn’t there myself, but as the bloke at the pub who sells tea leaves told me... well, those dragon scales aren’t mine, but... you know what, mate... look, something’s on fire over there!"
Gideon crouched, darted about in frantic circles, flailing his arms wildly, muttering incomprehensibly about a cauldron that "tipped itself over" and "of course that scarf was an original from Diagon Alley."
Then James cautiously raised an eyebrow. "Is that... Fabian after a botched Transfiguration spell?"
"Or James after six Firewhiskies and no alibi?" Sirius guessed, stroking his chin.
Gideon stopped, put his hands on his hips, and squawked at the top of his lungs: "No-no, no-no, I definitely wasn’t there! And even if I was, that steam was perfectly normal!"
"Uh," Violet interjected, "why is he now stripping off an imaginary cloak and trying to sell it to a tree?"
"No idea... Either way, it only makes sense to him," Savage concluded.
Gideon dropped to his knees dramatically, pulled an invisible amulet from under his robes, and whispered: "And this is an original from the days when goblins still sang about teeth! And if you don’t believe me, go ask Bertie Bott!"
"That’s... that’s -” Marlene began, eyes wide, "Mundungus!"
Everyone immediately grabbed their heads or burst into laughter.
"Of course!" James exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "That style of his - 'I’m dodging the truth before you even start to understand.' Perfectly done!"
"I’m starting to worry how much Gideon actually knows about him," Sirius muttered to Violet. "That impression was almost... personal."
"Let’s just say we once bought a few things from the same warehouse," Gideon shrugged, sitting down with a satisfied smile.
"You don’t mean to tell me you got those self-lacing boots from him?" Fabian asked with a smirk.
"No, I had those before I even met him," Gideon declared proudly.
Violet rubbed her forehead. "This game is going to be the end of me."
"And we’re only in the second round," James reminded her sweetly.
The raccoon orchestra in the background seized the moment and began strumming a touchingly confused melody, perfectly matching both Gideon’s performance and the emotional disarray of the gathered audience.
James rose with theatrical dignity and gestured grandly to everyone around him, as though standing on stage before a sold-out crowd. "Friends," he declared, "the time has come for truth. For elegance... and for acting perfection."
"You said the same thing before that class skit in fifth year, and it ended with you accidentally conjuring a goat instead of a parrot," Lily reminded him.
"History does not remember it that way," James waved her off. "But this... this will be different."
He rummaged in the hat, eyes narrowed, face tense with concentration - until he drew out a slip and opened it. He fell silent for a moment, then the corners of his lips curved into an expression so full of mischievous glee that Violet immediately grew alert. She knew it even before he managed to perform anything.
James took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders. He half-closed his eyes and donned an air of unshakable confidence. Then, with the grace of a third-year actor in a school play, he began in a deep voice: "They say charisma is a gift. I say it’s also a duty. By the way, that book you’re reading? I haven’t read it myself... but if you were to read some of it aloud to me, I’m certain I’d grasp... the deeper meaning."
The audience began to chuckle. "And you..." James stepped up to a tree, leaned in closer, lowered his voice with exaggerated gentleness and whispered: "...you are the deeper meaning yourself."
Violet could do nothing but gasp for air between fits of laughter, while Lily turned away, pressing her hand to her mouth to keep from bursting out loud.
"Hold on a second!" Sirius blurted, slamming his palm on the table. "You made that up!"
"Really?" James replied smoothly. "Because if you recall that day by the Magical Theory shelves on Transfiguration, that’s exactly what -"
"Not that stupidly!" Sirius cut in, though the corners of his mouth twitched with laughter.
"Wait, wait," Fabian said, waving a hand. "Isn’t that the time when a certain someone tried to impress a girl by borrowing a book he’d never read, then suggested they analyze it together over tea?"
"Yes!" Lily exclaimed. "And then the librarian threw him out because he enchanted the book to whisper every time she opened it!"
Sirius buried his face in his hands. "I only wanted to... add some depth," he muttered, trying not to look offended.
"So?" Edgar prompted.
"Definitely Sirius, the library, and his epic attempt at romance through a magical book," Lily declared.
"Agreed," Gideon added. "But only if James repeats that line about deeper meaning one more time."
With a dramatic bow, James returned to the tree and whispered: "You are... the deeper meaning yourself."
The garden exploded with another round of laughter. The raccoon orchestra joined in with a light, dancing harp motif that suddenly played from a bush to their left.
Sirius sighed and turned to Violet. "If someone imitates me next round in detention with Filch, I’m leaving for the honeymoon without saying goodbye."
Violet looked at him, tilting her head to the side. "Wait... what honeymoon?"
Sirius grinned at her with that familiar, slightly cheeky smile that suggested he had an answer but wasn’t about to say it out loud. Instead, he turned toward Lily, who had just stood up and was heading for the hat. Her eyes sparkled, but her lips were pressed tightly together in an effort not to reveal her nerves about what she might draw.
She stood before the others, straightened her dress, and rubbed her palms together. "Ladies," she began in a very theatrical voice, "I must tell you about the time the bride’s father at a wedding poured a Misty Mind potion into the guests’ glasses instead of champagne."
Sirius was already choking on laughter at her first words, leaning on Violet for support, while the others watched intently as Lily went on.
"Well, after the toast the guests forgot why they were there at all, and within ten minutes they started arranging more random weddings."
"I know!" Violet shouted.
"Wasn’t that Slughorn in one of his mead-inspired moods? The time we broke into his office?" Sirius suggested.
Savage suddenly stiffened. "You broke into his office?" he asked slowly, his voice full of suspicion.
"Yep," Violet admitted with perfect calm.
Savage looked like a man who had just fitted the last piece into a very old puzzle. "So that’s why the old bear complained for a month that he couldn’t find powdered chimera!"
With a small bow, Lily sat back down. "So? Was I right?"
"Without a doubt," Violet nodded. "Slughorn in his... philosophically liquid phase."
Everyone burst out laughing again. The flowers above their heads glowed softly, and the raccoon orchestra struck a perfectly timed, playful chord. And the wedding day - the strangest of them all - slowly settled into a pleasant calm. Not because it was ending, but because sometimes silence says more than another joke.
Chapter 10: Only Forever - Part Three
Chapter Text
The garden was already silent. That strange kind of silence that follows laughter like when someone finally shuts the doors of a hall full of music, yet the echo in your heart hasn’t faded. Violet stood in the middle of it all, barefoot in her dress of flowers, letting Lily tie a silk scarf over her eyes. Soft, silver, cool against her temples. The scent of lavender drifted from it like a memory.
"This is absurd," Violet mumbled as Lily tightened the ends of the fabric, "a honeymoon with a blindfold. That sounds like the start of one of Gideon’s poems."
"Hey!" came a dramatic protest. "My poems aren’t absurd. They’re experimentally expressive."
"Exactly. Which is a poetic way of saying 'strange and incomprehensible,'" Fabian remarked as he joined the group.
"Silence in the back row," Lily chided cheerfully, pulling the scarf just a touch tighter before leaning close to Violet’s ear. "Trust us. It’ll be worth it."
Violet rolled her eyes - at least in spirit, since physically it wasn’t possible with the blindfold - and took a deep breath. "Fine. Will you guide me, or are you going to let me bump into a tree like last time?"
"That was just a leaf. A big leaf," Lily corrected calmly, taking her hand.
Behind them, the others were already forming up. James waved his wand theatrically like a conductor leading a school march. "Ladies and gentlemen, at this very moment the official escort to the honeymoon begins. Before us: mystery. Beside us: friends. Behind us: mildly disoriented raccoons."
Violet focused on every step. Grass caressed her bare feet, almost as if it bent out of the way. Somewhere to the right, a bird chirped. To the left, she heard Gideon whispering to Fabian: "Think she’ll notice if there’s no destination at the end of the path?"
"No, but if there’s a swing and a cake, she’ll forgive us," Gideon replied.
Sirius walked beside her. Without words, but Violet felt his hand brush her forearm. Light, almost ceremonial, like a reminder: I’m here.
"I hear something," Violet said softly.
"Just my footsteps," Sirius answered.
"No," Violet insisted. "Different... The air is changing."
"Those philosophical lemon balm teas got to you again," James muttered behind her.
"No," Violet said with a smile. "I just know we’re almost there."
She felt the ground change beneath her feet. The soft grass gave way to a mosaic of smooth pebbles - cool, rounded, whispering differently with each step. And yes, the air truly, absolutely smelled different.
"Surprise!" shouted Gideon and Fabian together with such force that even the scarf around her eyes seemed to quiver.
"Not yet!" Lily hissed urgently, though her voice was still smiling. "Just a little further!"
Violet felt Sirius’s hand tighten around hers - as though they both needed to prepare for this last step. Behind them, the others stopped. Voices fell silent. Even the birds seemed to hush. Then came that final step. They stopped.
And Violet felt the light. Gentle, the kind that caresses. It streamed through the scarf with a warm glow that didn’t belong to any sun or at least not to any ordinary one. As Lily began to untie the scarf, Violet kept her eyes closed a moment longer, as if to hold on to the mystery. Then she opened them.
Before her stretched the breathtaking expanse of water - calm, mirroring the sky, which had begun to change. For the first time since she had come here, the sky was painted in twilight shades - pink, copper, golden. Yet the sun itself was nowhere to be seen. Still, this twilight was more real than any sunset she had ever known.
"How did you do this?" Violet whispered, eyes wide, her voice tinged with awe.
Lily smiled gently beside her. "We didn’t," she replied. "But the garden... it’s been expanding."
And indeed - it was as though the space itself understood them. Everything had opened up. Water murmured in the distance, butterflies flitted among the flowers. A wooden bridge twined with climbing vines stood nearby, leading to a small sailboat moored in a quiet cove. Its white sail swayed lightly, as though stirred by an unseen breeze.
"This is..." Violet began, but the rest of the words slipped somewhere between her throat and her heart.
"A gift-wrapped eternity," Sirius finished softly, with a smile that held both irony and truth. His voice was cautious, as if afraid to shatter the vision - yet certain it was no illusion.
James cleared his throat theatrically. "And here, ladies and gentlemen," he declared,"“our route ends. Beyond this point, entry is permitted only in pairs. Or under strict supervision by garden elves."
Savage nodded, hands clasped behind his back like a station inspector. "Or, if necessary, with a recommendation from the Ministry of Absurd Travel Affairs."
Violet slowly turned to the friends who had led them here. Lily, James, Gideon, Fabian, Marlene, Edgar, Savage... all stood in a gentle smiling arc.
"Thank you," she said quietly. There was nothing more she could add.
"This is only the beginning," Lily replied with a smile, squeezing her hand for a moment. "Enjoy it. You’ll be surprised."
"You mean by all this beauty?" Violet asked, nodding toward the sailboat, toward the landscape that hadn’t existed moments before.
Lily shook her head and winked. "No. By what Sirius packed as 'essential things for a honeymoon.'"
Sirius straightened, hands in his pockets, wearing an expression of pure innocence. "A few candles, maybe one singing cactus and -"
"Three baskets of food," James added.
"And a map," Fabian chimed in, "to a world that doesn’t exist yet."
Violet laughed softly. She shook her head, then, without a word, took Sirius’s hand. Together they stepped onto the bridge.
As soon as Sirius and Violet set foot on the deck, the wood creaked softly, as though the boat sighed in welcome. The sail filled on its own, without a single touch, and the vessel moved. Slowly, calmly. As if it knew there was no need to hurry. From the shore came a cheer.
"And don’t come back without souvenirs!" James shouted, waving his arms.
"Most importantly, remember where you anchored!" Fabian added.
"Yeah! Don’t anchor in the harbor of excuses and procrastination!" Gideon called, finger raised.
Lily stood waving, her hand resting on James’s shoulder. Marlene bounced on her toes, Edgar’s arm around her waist, and Savage... looked as though he’d been put in charge of customs control for matters of the heart.
Sirius slipped his arm around Violet’s shoulders and leaned close to her ear. “Eternity with them will never be boring.”
As the boat left the shore and glided further across the still water, Violet glanced back one last time. And something caught her eye. There—by the bushes, right between the flowering lilacs something moved. A figure? Violet blinked. Focused.
"Sirius," she nudged him with her elbow, eyes fixed ahead. "Look."
From the shrubbery, Dumbledore suddenly appeared. As if he had always been part of the garden, only... a little more lost. He wore a gray, slightly frayed robe and - utterly inexplicable, yet completely typical - striped red-and-white socks peeking out from beneath its hem. His head was bent low, brow furrowed in concentration, as he carefully searched the ground.
"Is he looking for shoes?" Violet whispered.
"Or for the concept of existence," Sirius muttered.
At that very moment, Dumbledore lifted his head, as if he had finally noticed them. A mischievous gleam lit up his eyes, and the corners of his mouth curved into a gentle smile. Without a word, he waved to them.
The shore fell silent for a beat. And then - like laughter too long suppressed finally being released - they all rushed toward him at once.
"Dumbledore!" Lily squealed, bouncing with joy.
"You’re alive!" James shouted, then faltered. "You are alive, right?"
"Doesn’t matter!" Fabian declared. "He’s here!"
"And in striped socks!" Gideon added, moved nearly to tears.
From a distance, it looked like a laughing swarm flinging itself into the arms of something long lost and suddenly found again.
Sirius stood at the railing, Violet beside him. She leaned against his shoulder, and together they watched as the shore slowly drifted away. Their friends became tiny figures in the pastel light, all that quiet beauty dissolving into the distance.
"Do you think the garden was hiding him all this time?" Violet asked softly.
"Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment," Sirius replied. "Or the right socks."
Violet smiled, but her eyes stayed fixed on the spot where everyone had been only a moment ago. Now there was no sound of them. Only the water. And the wind that didn’t exist, yet carried the sailboat forward.
"Do you think we’ll find our way back?" she whispered.
"Maybe," Sirius said, pressing her hand to his lips. "But now... now we have a journey ahead."
The boat glided onward, quietly, steadily, toward a horizon that shifted with every breath. And the sun that had never been there began, for the first time, to sketch their shadows. Violet leaned against the wooden railing and let the not-wind tousle her hair.
"So this is what you planned?" she asked softly, without turning to him.
Sirius stood behind her, gaze fixed on the horizon. "No. But this is exactly what I wished for."
"Is this really our beginning?" she whispered.
He stepped closer, took her hand. Led her to the center of the deck and, without words, sat down.
"Yes," Sirius answered at last. "A beginning. Not the first. Not the last. Just another one - finally uninterrupted."
They were quiet for a while. Violet watched ripples form across the water though no stone had been thrown. Then Sirius reached into one of the baskets - yes, Violet noticed there were many on board.
"And now," he announced solemnly, "the promised essentials for a honeymoon."
Violet raised an eyebrow. "I’m intrigued."
"First: warming elderflower tea. Magically heated. Doesn’t spill in storms of emotion."
"Useful," she chuckled.
Sirius rummaged again. "Second: two spoons, because nothing is more romantic than sharing ice cream we don’t have yet."
"Logical," Violet nodded.
"Third: a book of blank pages. The writing will appear when we need it," he said, handing it to her.
She accepted the book, pressed her palm to the cover, and closed her eyes. The pages rustled faintly, though they stayed empty.
Sirius bent over the basket once more, muttering: "Where are you, green fellow?" Then, with a triumphant "Ha!" he pulled out a small flowerpot containing a cactus.
Not just any cactus. It wore a tiny top hat, a miniature bow tie dangling from one of its spines, and a clipped-on scrap of musical notation. Sirius set it down beside him with the air of a wizard unveiling his life’s greatest trick.
"So, madam," he declared, turning to Violet, "please welcome the master of serenades - Alois."
Violet burst into laughter. "You even named the cactus?"
"No, he demanded a name himself. Claimed his singing wouldn’t be credible otherwise," Sirius explained.
At that moment, the cactus blinked - yes, blinked, though it wasn’t clear with what - and began to produce a slow, velvety-soft melody. Rhythmic, a little odd, exactly what one might expect from a singing cactus aboard a boat adrift in eternal twilight.
Without a word, Sirius stood and extended his hand to Violet with a slightly theatrical flourish. "And now," he said quietly, "comes the most important thing. The first dance."
Violet looked at him. Long. Then the corners of her lips curved into a smile. "Then I just hope," she said as she placed her hand in his, "you didn’t choose a cactus because you’re too prickly for a proper waltz."
"Waltz is boring," Sirius replied as he gently pulled her closer. "We dance to our own rhythm."
And then, in the middle of that endless water, they began to dance. To a rhythm that belonged only to the two of them - with one singing cactus, a light wind at their backs, and the sense that this time, everything was exactly as it should be.
The sailboat rocked softly, as if it didn’t want to disturb them. The cactus’s melody floated through the air like a ribbon - sometimes wavering, sometimes surprising, but at its heart tender, intimate. Just like the dance.
Violet felt her body loosen. She let herself be guided by Sirius’s hand resting firmly on her back. She looked into his eyes, and in that moment no words were needed. Only steady breaths, the turning of their own circle, as though they were dancing in time itself or outside it.
"It’s strange," she whispered without breaking eye contact, "how this can feel so completely new, yet at the same time so very familiar."
Sirius smiled. It wasn’t his usual broad, sparkling grin. It was quiet. Carrying all the tenderness a soul could hold. "I know," he said. "I felt it too. Even back when you handed me tea in the Great Hall and pretended not to hear me."
Violet gave a small smile, tilting her head. "I heard you. I just wasn’t sure if you weren’t trying to charm the pudding behind me."
"I tried that too, but it turned me down. You were more receptive."
Shy laughter hung between them like another note in the melody. They danced on, slowly, step by step. Swaying with the boat, as though they were part of it. As though their movement helped set the course.
Sirius gazed at her, his look free of all doubt. Only calm, only warmth. When their faces drew so close that just a breath separated their lips, Sirius leaned in and kissed her forehead.
"I never thought I’d have something like this," he whispered. "You. A wedding dance. Quiet in my head."
Violet held him tighter. "I missed you even when I wanted to forget you. And after that, I just waited for the story to return."
"And it did. In a slightly different world... with raccoons, a cactus, and a suspicious cake," he murmured, his mouth twitching in a half-smile.
They spun again, her flower-dress flaring. And in that dance, there was no performance. No ceremony, no glitter. It was touch. Acceptance. Love that had nothing left to prove. There were only the two of them. And between them, that old, familiar certainty - that this, this, had always been inevitable.
Chapter 11: Only Forever - Part Four
Chapter Text
The sailboat kept swaying gently, carried by a quiet breeze and perhaps also by the force of the moment. The music faded almost to a whisper. Violet stopped dancing, her hand resting on Sirius’s shoulder. Their eyes met. They didn’t look away. They didn’t smile. They just looked.
Sirius lifted his hand to her face. His fingers traced her cheekbone softly, as if relearning her features. Not like someone who was seeing for the first time - but like someone who had long been forbidden to.
"You’re still you," he whispered, his voice suddenly carrying something raw and utterly true.
"And I still don’t know how I managed to endure without you," Violet answered, leaning her forehead against his.
She felt his breath, warm and steady. And beneath it, the electric tension stretching between them like a thread. Old. Familiar. And yet new, because now there was no past between them, no war, no wall of unsaid words. Just them.
And then Sirius kissed her with the certainty of a man who knows what he feels. His lips were firm, hungry, yet tender. He held her as if to make sure she wouldn’t dissolve into light, as if this wasn’t just another image among memories.
Violet pressed closer, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling him nearer. That kiss held everything they had lost. Everything they had preserved. And everything the world had finally returned to them. His hands slid down her back, and suddenly it was no longer just a kiss. It was the desire that had smoldered between them all along - waiting for a touch, for trust, for the right moment. And now it was here. Present, unrestrained.
Violet’s whole body trembled from how much Sirius’s closeness burned inside her. How familiar his breath was, his movements, his scent. And how new it felt that she could experience him now without fear, without loss.
Sirius pulled her closer, tighter. His hands found her waist, his fingers settling on her hips as if he wanted to embrace her completely, to protect her, to know every curve, every breath. Violet wound her arms around his neck without hesitation, and though the deck was narrow, their world shrank to a single point - to the two of them. To the pulse beneath the skin, to the heat in their chests, to the faint sigh that escaped him when her lips slipped to his neck.
"You’re real," he whispered hoarsely, his voice rough with longing and disbelief.
"I’m here, Sirius," she breathed softly into his ear.
His name in her mouth sounded like a vow. He looked into her chestnut eyes. Kissed her again, this time more slowly. With his palm on her nape, with the back of his hand brushing down her arm. Every touch was deliberate, careful yet hungry, as if they both knew how long a road it had been to reach this moment. Violet gently unfastened the first button of his shirt. Then the second.
Sirius looked at her with a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching with a hint of teasing. "In a hurry, are you?" he asked.
Violet stared at him - intently, searchingly, without words. As if seeking the answer in his eyes, not in what he said. And she found it there, as always.
"I spent fifteen years without you," Sirius said, and this time it wasn’t teasing, but a simple truth. So simple it hurt. "I think I can last a little longer before..."
He didn’t finish. He lifted his head. Violet followed his gaze upward. The sky above them had changed. Where moments ago there had been golden light and twilight hues, now a deep blue was spreading. The boat beneath them rocked softly, gliding on the surface that mirrored the transformation.
"I think," Sirius whispered, "soon we’ll be sailing from an endless day into an endless night."
Violet nestled against him, and Sirius wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Together they gazed into a night that carried no threat. A night without fear. Only them. And with every breath, every touch, it was clear this was the part of their life they’d never had time for before.
They drew together again. Without hesitation, without words. Only with that quiet, deep understanding flowing between them like a warm current beneath the surface. The kiss came softly. Like an exhale. Violet welcomed it, her hands finding the buttons of his shirt once more - this time with greater certainty. Sirius didn’t resist. He only watched her with eyes full of tenderness and unease, devotion and desire. When her fingers slipped another button open, his hand slid along her back and plucked a flower from her dress.
Violet felt her gown shift slightly. One flower fell to the deck, then another. The dress seemed to respond to his touch, slowly unraveling in rhythm with their closeness. Sirius kissed her again - lower this time, at her collarbone, in the hollow of her neck, at the place where her breath quickened. Violet pulled him closer, and another flower loosened.
She felt a strap of braided petals slide off her shoulder. Sirius’s hands, firm yet gentle, stroked down her arms. Every movement was both tender and restless. As if they feared losing themselves in this dream, even as they yearned for it. He drew her closer again, so close that nothing remained between them but breath and heartbeat. His shirt was half unbuttoned. Violet reached out, laid her palm on his chest and Sirius closed his eyes, as if he felt her touch deeper than the skin. She kissed his jawline, traced down his throat to his collarbone, and lingered there. Sirius held his breath. Then she slowly slid his shirt from his shoulders. It fell onto the deck quietly, like another layer no longer needed.
Violet’s dress had loosened so much it clung only by will. Sirius plucked the last flower, holding it in his hand before her gown finally fell apart. Violet glanced at it. Small, white, with a thin stem. Modest, but beautiful. She tucked it behind her ear.
"I’ll keep this one," she said with a smile.
Sirius knelt, reached into the wicker basket, and pulled out a soft blanket - it smelled of salt and lavender, like everything around them. He spread it, then slid his hand along her leg from ankle to knee, wordlessly drawing her to him. Violet gave in with a quiet laugh, falling into his arms as naturally as if she had always belonged there.
Sirius caught her and laid her on the blanket. Her eyes clung to him with a silent tension, an anticipation that was quiet permission. Violet placed her hands on his hips, slowly, deliberately, and traced her fingers over his abdomen. Her touch was soft but assured, as if she were painting him. She felt every muscle that responded beneath her hand. She unfastened his trousers—slowly at first, savoring each movement, each sound of the fabric, then faster, until they were gone, just another piece among the flowers scattered across the deck like marks of their closeness.
Sirius leaned over her, supporting himself on one hand while the other slid along her side - from ribs down to hips - his fingers sketching delicate arcs on her skin, mixing tenderness with longing. Violet tilted her head back beneath him, and when he kissed her just below the ear, she exhaled softly, unevenly. Her breath slipped out of control as much as her thoughts.
Their bodies began answering each other without words. They caressed as they remembered, yet differently - more deeply, more knowingly, with the assurance of those who already knew what they wanted. Sirius’s lips moved down her neck, across her collarbone. His breath was hot, and Violet shifted beneath him, her thighs curling around his hips as if calling him closer.
Sirius moved lower, his lips gliding over her skin slowly, deliberately, with the knowledge of what each touch awakened in her. His hand rested on her waist, thumb tracing along her ribs. Then he slipped lower over her stomach, pausing as if to feel her breath. Violet closed her eyes. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him back to her.
Sirius kissed her again. And then, without another word, without delay, he pressed closer. Violet arched into him, hips against hips, skin against skin. He closed his eyes as her body received him - smoothly, warmly, as if it had always known how. His movements were slow, controlled, but deep. They clung to each other, their hips moving in a rhythm born from their breath, from the beating of their hearts, from every signal in their touch.
Violet moaned - softly, right against his ear - and her body trembled beneath him as he moved again. Sirius leaned on his forearm, his palm sliding over her thigh, along her hip, up to her ribs, wherever he could reach. Her breath broke in short, shaky inhales, quiet sighs that vibrated against his collarbone. Sirius felt her body beneath him attune itself to his rhythm.
He brushed his lips along her face, kissed her temple, then her jawline, slowly, as though piecing her back together from what time had once broken. He heard her moan - deeper, rawer - as her arms tightened around his back. A small movement, yet it told him more than any words ever could.
Violet lay beneath him, caught between breath and trembling, feeling every motion - how he tensed above her in a rhythm that could not be restrained. Sirius shuddered, drew in a sharp breath, and suddenly his breathing broke - short, sharp gasps followed by a deep, raw exhale that slipped from his lips.
In that moment, his body grew heavy, his hips thrust one last time - deep, sudden, as though the final wave had found its path. Violet felt warmth spill inside her, fierce and sudden, like the spark of fire that only fueled the blaze already burning in her. His forehead rested on her shoulder. His breathing was uneven, hot, heavy - with every exhale still echoing desire. His fingers gripped her hip, as if to anchor himself, to stay in that moment just a little longer. Violet felt his pulse beating against her own.
"Something in you won’t let me go," he whispered, and it was more than just a physical sensation. It was a confession.
He didn’t stop. He moved again, slowly, not with urgency, but with a desire that hadn’t faded, only shifted its tone. Gentler, as if he wanted to remain inside her forever. Violet shivered. Her body was tired, yet still calling out. She smiled and arched beneath him once more.
Sirius closed his eyes, hidden in her shoulder, and moaned softly as he felt her tighten around him again - not in haste, not out of need, but with a deep trust that burned hotter than desire. He moved again, his hips just slightly, but enough to feel how the motion sent shivers through her. Her hands rested on his hips, her thumbs tracing lazy circles along his spine, gently, almost blindly, but deliberately.
Sirius lifted himself slightly on his forearm to look into her face. Her eyelids were half-closed, lips parted, her cheeks flushed with heat, and between her brows a faint crease of concentration. He brushed his thumb along her jawline, then moved again—this time smoother, deeper. Her hips rose to meet his with a precision that wasn’t learned - it was instinctive, perfectly in tune.
Sirius slowed - just for a moment - to feel the way her body gripped around him again, how sensitive she was, balanced on the edge of what she could bear. Violet trembled all over, clasped him with her thighs, and let herself be carried in that rhythm, now steady and calm, yet heavy with tension. Her body pressed against him, consumed him, begged for another moment, another movement. Sirius answered her, breathing into her mouth, holding her, kissing her, and she shuddered again beneath him, more sharply this time, clutching him in a silent cry.
And he stayed, even as their bodies slowed, weakened, though the desire did not fade. And so they simply lay there. For a long time. In silence, in the heat of their bodies, in the stillness that lingered like mist after a storm. They remained until their breathing softened into a shared rhythm. Violet stroked his back gently, his neck, tracing circles with her fingertips between his shoulder blades. They were wrapped around each other as if in a blanket - not from cold, but because now they could not, and perhaps did not know how to, be apart.
After a while Sirius lifted himself, kissed her forehead, and slowly rolled onto his back. Violet curled against him on her side, resting her head on his chest, her hand sliding along his ribs. His breath had calmed, but his eyes were still open. He was silent for a long time.
"Do you see it too?" he asked at last, softly, thoughtfully, almost as if speaking only to himself.
Violet rolled onto her back beside him and looked up at the sky. At first, she thought he meant the stars and he did. The sky was a deep blue, scattered with thousands of points of light, glittering more sharply than ever before. But something in it made her pause. She blinked. The constellations. At first she didn’t recognize them. They seemed like random chaos. But the longer she looked, the more she realized they weren’t. They were different. Everything was different.
"Cassiopeia..." she breathed, and her voice was suddenly light, almost amused.
Where the proud, beautiful, eternally punished queen usually hung upside down - now she shone with her head held high, as if she were truly looking at them. The whole sky was reversed.
"This place is insane," she said with a smile, with a quiet laugh trembling in her throat. "Nothing here makes any sense... and yet it makes perfect sense."
Sirius traced his fingers along her arm. "Maybe we’re finally somewhere the world matches us. Not the other way around."
"And if all this were only a dream?" she asked softly.
Sirius looked at her. For a long moment. His eyes weren’t filled with fear, but with that strange peace that comes only after a long battle. "Then I never want to wake up," he replied.
At that moment something else flashed across the sky. Like the quiet sigh of the universe - a star that broke free and began to fall. It left behind a long, shimmering streak of light, delicate as silk yet bright, as if painted with a brush of silver. It fell calmly, unhurried, yet unstoppable, until it disappeared beyond the horizon of the sea. And then, in the distance, something lit up. A soft, strange glow that spread across the surface, reflected in the waves, dancing among them like a whisper.
They both felt it. The stillness of breath. A flash of recognition that had not yet taken form. A call - not heard with the ears, but with the soul.
Violet suddenly sat up, then without a word sprang to her feet. She was naked, but she didn’t seem vulnerable. Her skin gleamed in the moonlight, her hair spilling down her back, her eyes fixed on the distance on the place where the light had just fallen.
"There," she breathed. "There, there!"
Sirius stared at her, eyes wide with wonder. In that moment he looked nothing like a man who had fought, who had carried the weight of years. He looked like a boy who had just glimpsed something magical, something that must not be missed. He stood, stepped to her, and embraced her from behind. Together they stood on the deck of the boat, rocking gently, and gazed at the light that, though far away, pulsed like a heart. They pressed close to each other and watched that gentle glow as if they could already see their future within it.
They weren’t afraid. They didn’t know what awaited them. But the light was calling them. And they heard it. A new adventure had just opened before them. A new path, uncertain where it would lead, but one they both knew they must follow.
Lia (Guest) on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 04:51PM UTC
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Lia (Guest) on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 04:57PM UTC
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Emilyjones223 on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 09:23PM UTC
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Owena (Guest) on Chapter 3 Sat 30 Aug 2025 07:20PM UTC
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3m1ly3014 on Chapter 5 Wed 03 Sep 2025 05:41AM UTC
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Hina wisdom (Guest) on Chapter 6 Sat 06 Sep 2025 09:58PM UTC
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Hina wisdom (Guest) on Chapter 8 Sun 07 Sep 2025 06:49PM UTC
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