King Of My Heart | R. BLACK

53 | tsunami of grief

February 26, 1980

Dear James,

I felt that you of all people deserve an explanation but I'm not sure I know how to explain. For the past year or so, something has felt off. Wrong, even. And for the longest time, I thought it was me. I thought maybe everything I went through had caught up to me and I was just irrevocably broken. But that wasn't it.

On New Year's Eve, I remembered everything. Regulus and I's relationship, him saving my life, everything. It was confusing, at first. Because why would I suddenly remember all of this information? There was no logical explanation and because we were busy focusing on other things, I didn't really think about it.

A few days ago, I was cleaning out the spare room to start making space for the nursery, when I found the mirror. I was staring at it, trying to figure out what was going on when it hit me. If I remember everything and you didn't obliviate me, then who did? And it could only have been Regulus. And if it was Regulus, then he never would have given those memories back. Ever. Which meant only one thing.

Regulus Black is dead.

It's unfair of me to not have done this in person. Cruel, even. But if anyone could talk me out of my decision, it's you.

Truly, I don't know what's in store for me. I don't know what's at the end of the line. But I do know one thing. I was meant to rest with Regulus, and he with me - if this means I have to go find him, then so be it. Regulus and I had talked about the theoreticals often in our relationship. You didn't have much of a choice when it was this complicated. There were lots of 'what ifs' and possibilities but I don't think either of us expected this outcome.

'And yet I wish for a thing I have,' he had said to me the night we ended things and I begged you to swipe my memories. 'My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.' And I don't think I fully understood what that had meant. Not at that moment. No matter how many times I had read the book, it didn't make sense. But now?

James, we aren't Romeo and Juliet, I know this. We aren't two naive kids who don't understand the difference between sexual attraction and love. We aren't tragedy, not in this sense. Is it tragic? Maybe, depending how you think of it. But to me, in so many ways, it's beautiful.

So I leave you with my copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' and all the memories that come with it. Maybe this will help you understand why I have done what I've done. I hope it does because I'm not sure there's any other way for me to explain.

I love you, until the very end.

With all the love I have left,
Angela Potter

James held the letter in his hands, he was frozen, trapped in his spot as he read the words over and over and over again. He looked at the table where the book sat, as torn and loved as ever. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He wasn't even sure he understood what any of this had meant. Not really. Or maybe he just didn't want to believe it.

He placed the letter down on the table, his legs suddenly feeling light beneath him. He held onto the couch next to him, trying to hold himself steady. He reached forward, picking up her book carefully. He opened it, and with that, magic coursed through his body, consuming him in his entirety. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes tightly as it flowed and ebbed its way through him, enveloping itself in around heart.

He opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably now. He pressed the book against his chest. He could feel it all now. Every piece of it. He had never understood her feelings toward Regulus. How she could keep going back to him after everything he had done. But he did now. To love in that all consuming way would destroy even the strongest of people, as it had destroyed his sister.

The loss washed over him in a tidal wave of emotions. No, a tidal wave was far too small to describe how he felt in the moment. This was a tsunami of feelings, crashing down on him, leaving him drowning, begging to catch a breath forever. He hadn't yet grieved his parents. Not really. And now this? There was a word for what you call someone whose parents are dead but what did you call someone whose little sister was gone? You didn't call them anything.

He forced himself to stand though he probably shouldn't have, he moved from the couch but fell to the ground before he could make it out. He had reached for the table to stop himself but failed, knocking over the vase of flowers that had rested on top. The glass shattered around him but he couldn't bring himself to care. He rested his head against the ground, feeling heavy and cold. An unwelcome hug of grief that was trying to pull him under. This feeling was an unhealable sort of pain. Not one that could be fixed with time. What was he supposed to do now?

"James!" Lily called out from the other room and even though she didn't know what happened, she was clearly worried. She gasped at the sight of him on the floor and she ran to him. She knelt down beside him, helping him off the floor. The pieces of glass dug into her legs, no doubt slicing her skin open and drawing blood but she didn't care. She helped him sit up, despite his protest, leaning him against the table. "James, what happened?"

He shook his head, the words stuck in his throat, "I don't - I can't..." he squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head back as the panic coursed through his body. What was he going to do? Without his sister. The other piece of him. He felt hollow, an ache that was pushing against his chest.

"James," she said, placing her hand on his cheek, guiding him to look at her. And he did, as much as he wanted to scream and cry, he didn't. Her eyes widened when she saw the storm behind his eyes. "What happened?" she asked immediately, her nerves on edge. "Who is it?" It was normal now. To assume that someone had passed. But this worried her beyond measure. "Hey, hey, it's okay..."

"No," he croaked. "Angela, she..." Lily's breath caught in her throat and when his head dropped his chest, she had to do everything in her power not to join him. Because she knew exactly what this meant. Lily wasn't sure what to do. There wasn't much she could say to fix this for him. But he couldn't shut down, as he was prone to do when he was overwhelmed with emotions. Not with this.

"Feel the grief James, but don't let it consume you," Lily told him, pressing her forehead against the side of his head. He leaned into her for comfort, wrapping his hands around her wrists. "Please, don't let it consume you," she begged, her voice quiet now, a faint whisper against his cheek, "I can't lose you too."

He let out a choked sob, falling against her chest. She held him, just as he had held her when she found out her parents had been killed by the Dark Lord. Just as he had held Angela when his parents had passed away from Dragon Pox. Lily held him, running her hand through his hair as he cried against her chest. The sobs wracked his body, he was shaking so much that she could feel it everywhere. Her heart ached for him and she wasn't sure there was truly anything she could do to help him.

She closed her eyes, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. Eventually, the sobs slowed as exhaustion took over. The two sat there, glass surrounding the floor around them and they felt it. They felt all of it and they felt it together.