— chapter eleven —
FOR EMERGENCIES

—

HER MIND KEPT replaying the scene over and over again. Remus getting angry, saying everything he did, and then suddenly it was over. He was gone, she was crying, and she felt so pitiful. It wasn't as if she cried in the library – that was a true sign of weakness – but she easily escaped from there and outside onto the empty corridor did she then let her sobs be let out.

She was running towards the Room of Requirement, afraid to ever step into the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle ever again (she could still remember the look on Alfie's face; it haunted her), and then the door appeared and she quickly ran inside there and onto the large, warm bed and let out her sobs without guilt. Without the fear that someone would see her, catch her, and call her out on her weakness. She wasn't looking over her shoulder to see if someone was watching, she was just crying. She was just sobbing for the first time in years and it felt so nice because she hadn't felt safe enough to do so since Sirius left.

If her mother were there, Remelda knew what she would say. How weak, how pitiful...I raised you to be strong, and yet you disgrace me with your tears. And then more tears fell. That did nothing to help prevent the tears, but it helped more of them fall. She felt like such a failure, such a letdown, and she knew she couldn't. Remelda couldn't leave Regulus, she could never. That would be the ultimate failure – leaving her brother when she was the only person he truly had left. She wouldn't become Sirius...

Except, that wouldn't be Sirius at all. Well, maybe Remus was lying, maybe he and the Potters didn't go to court and try to save the two of them. Maybe they weren't threatened with going to Azkaban if he ever spoke a word to them again. Maybe it was a lie. Maybe none of that were true and she was being a fool trying to believe it. Maybe he never thought of them again, having a new brother and new parents. Having a nice family where he felt safe and comfortable and never even thinking back on the promise that he had to Remelda that night he left. It could've been all a lie, yet she was still trying to believe it.

That part in her mind – the part that still clung onto the hope that Sirius loved her – wanted to believe it so badly. Did believe it. She wanted to believe it because she needed her older brother, especially at that moment, and he wasn't there.

The sobs became louder at that thought. At the thought that it was all her fault that Sirius wasn't there to comfort her. She was sure it could be heard from the corridors. Remelda, though, didn't find it in herself to care.

―

A week passed and she hadn't heard a word from Remus. He hadn't come into the library, at least, by himself. Just yesterday the Marauders, Lily, and Nadia came into the library and sat a table far away from Remelda. It was far enough that she couldn't actually hear that they were saying, but close enough that she could see every defining feature on all their faces. Remelda tried not to look at them, but how could she not? How could she not notice the fact that Nadia had been spending an extreme amount of time with them? Or that Remus looked much happier and there wasn't a large amount of large bubbling inside him?

She felt something in her chest, but she couldn't quite describe it. Her thoughts betraying her for the millionth time into thinking that maybe he was so angry because of her. All of his problems – all of anger and frustration – came from her, and without her, he was much happier. But that was running through her mind and it wouldn't stop circulating. And she could hear them laughing, having fun and not even thinking about her. But why should they? She huffed to herself, it was useless to think that she could actually concentrate on her book now. Collected, though, she passed them without her eyes ever daring to look into their eyes, even though she knew they were looking at her.

But now she was reading peacefully. Well, not peacefully, but she was reading. And Regulus was beside her, babbling on about whatever it was before stopping and becoming very quiet for a moment.

"Remelda," his voice solemn, quiet for a moment as he stared into her eyes, "I need to tell you something. Something I should've told you sooner."

Furrowing her eyebrows, she closed the book carefully, placing it beside her as she looked at him. "Regulus, what's going on? What do you have to tell me?"

"Remember earlier this year when I was reading something and told you that I would talk to you about it later?" Regulus questioned, growing nervous as time passed.

"You do that a lot, believe it or not, I can't remember," Remelda waved it off. It was probably nothing – it had to be nothing.

"A little before then you were teasing me about Nadia...does that ring a bell now?"

Remelda looked at him, "Regulus, I tease you about Nadia basically every day. So no, this doesn't ring a bell."

He rolled his eyes, getting up from his bed and pacing for a moment before stopping, "That doesn't matter. It really doesn't, but what I'm about to tell you is something big, and you have to promise to believe me. It's the truth – I would never lie to you, and I have proof."

"Regulus – you're scaring me now," Remelda admitted.

"I'm sorry, Mel, but you have to promise me that you won't freak out, okay? I can't lose you, I lost Nadia when I told her this but I can't lose you," Regulus' voice grew even quieter for the second part, "You're all I have left."

She stood up, bringing her brother into a hug full of comfort before releasing him, her hands still on his shoulders as she looked him in the eyes, "I'll never leave you. You shouldn't be afraid to tell me anything."

"I figured this out a long time ago," Regulus began, "Heard about it at a party – seemed to stick. Don't remember who said it, but it was someone who doesn't follow You-Know-Who but's still respectable. They just...they meant it as a light joke but I-I couldn't shake it from my mind."

"Oh, spit it out already, will you?" Remelda rolled her eyes.

"Shut it, I'm trying. But it was just a word that wouldn't go away. Horcruxes. I didn't even know what they were, but I found out later when I was in father's study that night – after everyone was asleep. And it – it really does make sense, really. And-and then I told Nadia and we've been researching it ever since."

"Regulus," Remelda was still trying to process everything he was saying, "I think you missed an important detail here; what's a horcrux?"

"It's when you split your soul and divide it into a tangible object so that if you were to die, you wouldn't really die. Your soul would still be on earth and you could one day reform," Regulus explains, "And it does make sense, really, that he would use it."

"What do you mean a splitting of the soul?" she was afraid that she already knew the answer, but she had to ask anyways.

"Murder, Remelda, murder," Regulus said, "You murder someone and then, if the ritual is successful, half of your soul will be transported into the object."

"Oh," Remelda blinked, "Well. I-I think that you're right with that, it seems right, anyways. Makes sense...but what are you going to do about it?"

"Nadia's already been to Dumbledore with the information, but I don't think he'll really start doing anything about it. I'm not quite sure if he believes her," Regulus says, "But I know where one is – and I plan on retrieving it."

"So why are you now telling me this?"

"Because I'll need your help," Regulus blinked, "I'll need your help because there'll be low chances that I'll actually make it out alive. I'm not planning to, actually, but I need to make sure that I don't die for nothing. You'll have to take the horcrux back yourself and hide it."

A lump in her throat formed. She was going to lose her brother. It wasn't official yet, but it was bound to happen. It was going to happen because he already had the plan set and Regulus was very stubborn and wouldn't be swayed. She gulped that lump down.

"Remelda, please, you have to do this for me," Regulus was pleading now.

"Of course," she answered quietly, not wanting to cry in front of him, "When?"

She needed time to prepare – he needed to give her time. "Over Christmas, it'll be the perfect time," he said.

Oh. Christmas was in a month basically; she had a month to mentally prepare herself for the death of her brother. A month to prepare herself with the thought of never seeing him again, of being alone because she didn't have the one person she truly loved anymore because he was dead. Gone. Six feet underground. Just a memory of hers that she would never take another photograph with because he was gone and there were no other memories to create with him because she couldn't. Oh.

Oh.