With a thunderous CRACK, Sirius appeared on the doorstep of Number Twelve, Cassiopeia limp in his arms. The front door creaked open for him Sirius walked forward, She was so light in his arms. It shouldn't have scared him, but it did.

The lights flicked on, casting his face in sickly yellow. His eyes were hollow. Haunted by the image of his Dead brother

"Pads?" Remus was alreadyawake, halfway down the stairs, hair messy, sweater thrown on inside out, wand in hand. "What—what happened—Sirius—?"

Sirius's jaw flexed, eyes not leaving the girl in his arms. "They were attacked."

Remus reached him, one hand out like he needed to see for himself. "By who?"

"Death Eaters."

Remus stopped dead. "And—Reg—?"

Sirius didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

Remus's breath caught. His face went pale.

"Gone," Sirius said finally. "They—they killed him."

Remus staggered back like he'd been hit with a hex. "Im so sorry- Sirius—uhm—How did she—how did Cassie handle it?"

Sirius just looked at him, throat working. "Not well."

From the kitchen, Molly rushed out, seeing them back "Oh... oh, the poor girl," she whispered, her voice breaking. "She's already been through so much—"

"Let's get her upstairs. Before the other kids see her like this. She wouldn't want—" Remus said nudging Sirius

"I know," Sirius muttered, nodding once. His voice was rough "Yeah."

They moved up the stairs fast but quietly.  Sirius kicked open the door to Cassie's usual room. The curtains were still drawn from the last time she'd stayed there. The bed was made—

He laid her down carefully. Her hair was matted. Her clothes stained. She looked more like a ghost than a girl. "I don't think she's alright," Sirius muttered. "She must have got hit with something. She was definitely in a duel"

Remus nodded grimly. "We need to check for curses. Hexes. Shock."

Molly stepped forward and gently brushed blood from Cassie's temple with the edge of her sleeve. "Poor child."

Remus however frowned, voice low. "But—if they killed Regulus... why leave her alive?"

Silence.

Sirius swallowed, his voice dry . "I've been asking myself the same thing."

"She's alive. That's what matters," Molly said firmly rolling up her sleeves "I'll check her," she said stepping forward. "I know how to heal—I handled healing during the first war. You remember."

Sirius and Remus both nodded, silent. Watching.

Molly raised her wand and murmured a spell. A faint light shimmered over Cassiopeia's body, outlining it The glow settled everywhere—but it burned a dark red around her neck.

Cassie twitched

Molly's brows furrowed. "Usual dueling curses... a mild slicing hex on her leg, bruising. Defensive. None meant to kill—"

She paused, frowning .pointing at the glow around Cassie's throat—almost maroon. "But this...This one's ugly. A chokehold curse, tightens the longer you resist."

Remus paled instantly. "Like what Bellatrix used on Dorcas."

Molly gave a sharp nod. "Exactly like that."

Sirius took a step back, "She was—there then. Bellatrix was there."

Remus swallowed hard. "And Cassie fought her?"

"She must have. Or tried to," Molly said. "Look at her hands."

Cassie's fingers were twitching- very faintly- So subtle you might've missed it if you weren't looking closely. "That's not from the chokehold," Molly muttered, "It's Cruciatus."

Sirius went still. "Wait—what?"

"Cruciatus was cast on her," Molly said more firmly this time. "Once, I think. Not prolonged. But it's unmistakable .That hand tremor-it's a classic neural backlash. Must have been her first tim—" She broke off, she couldn't finish that sentence.

"She was tortured?" Sirius rasped.

"She was hit with it," Molly said quietly. "I don't know why it wasn't cast longer. The chokehold wasn't long enough to kill, either. It's like—"

"Like they didn't want her dead," Remus finished

"Exactly."

Sirius stared down at her, horror blooming across his face. "Why though? Why would they go that far and stop there?"

No one answered.

"She was there," Sirius said more to himself than them. "When Reg—" His voice caught. "When it happened. She saw it."

Remus stepped forward, trying to steady him. "Pads..."

"They could've killed her," Sirius said "But they didn't - why?"

"Maybe they wanted her alive," Molly murmured. "To carry a message?"

"Or to suffer," Remus said bitterly. "Sirius - You out of all people-  know how Bellatrix thinks. Pain is a canvas to her."

Sirius sat heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the faint grey veins crawling faintly up Cassie's arms. They'd dulled , but they were still there 

What are these?" Remus asked noticing them at the same time "\These veins... What are they?"

Molly didn't answer right away. 

Sirius was the one who answered "They were darker before. When she was—" He swallowed. "When she was trying to bring Regulus back. Like they were... reacting. Responding to her magic."

"Or feeding on it," Remus said grimly.

"I don't know - Might be her magical core?" Molly said from behind him "I've never seen anything like these"

Sirius blinked hard. "She's not okay."

"She's alive," Molly corrected gently. "She just needs rest. It's just Magical exhaustion. Her body's in shock."

"We should let her rest," Remus said rising from the edge of the bed. He touched Sirius's shoulder briefly, before turning toward the door.

Molly gave Cassie one last glance before following. At the gate, Remus paused. "You'd better come up with something for the kids, Molly," he said . "Before they start snooping around. Tell them... something."

Molly nodded grimly. "I will."

The door clicked shut behind them.

The stairs creaked beneath their feet as they made their way down to the kitchen, Molly had disappeared down the hall. Remus poured two mugs, handed one to Sirius without asking. They both headed into Sirius's room down the hall.

"She looked so tired - and broken," Siirus muttered opening the door

Remus didn't argue. For a moment, they just stood in silence, leaning against opposite walls like men too tired to sit.

"We need to tell Dumbledore." Remus said

Sirius didn't look up. "Do we have to?"

Remus blinked. "What?"

Sirius shook his head slowly, eyes locked on the coffee. "I don't know, Moony. The way he acted... after the battle. At the Ministry. The way he looked at her."

Remus tilted his head. "Who? Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Like she was—meant to die. And she'd messed it up by surviving. Like killing Death Eaters was worse than dying to one."

Remus's jaw tensed. He didn't deny it.
"You know he was like this in the first war too, Sirius," he said instead, "Always talking about the greater good. About restraint. About keeping our souls clean."

"Yeah, but we were 19 and stupid and thought that meant something," Sirius snapped. "We didn't know what war was. And Look at Cassie - She is 16 and she already knows. She learned. And he- Albus- looked at her like she made a fucking mistake."

Remus sipped his coffee, "You're not wrong."

"I just... I don't feel like trusting him anymore," Sirius admitted, last word. "Not with her."

Remus looked at him, properly now. "You think he'd sacrifice her."

Sirius didn't answer.

He didn't have to.

Remus looked away. "You are not wrong to think that. He might. If he thought it would save the world."

"I won't let him."

Remus turned, brow raised. "Let him what?"

"Do that. Sacrifice her. Use her." His voice cracked. "I already missed everything else, Moony. Missed who she was becoming, missed the kind of person Reg was trying to raise. But I'm not gonna miss this."

Remus studied him for a long moment. "And what exactly are you going to do?"

Sirius hesitated. "Be better."

Remus blinked.

"Im Serious." Sirius pushed off the wall, pacing, hand raking through his hair. "All my life I've been this... this—"

"Arsehole?" Remus offered, deadpan.

"Yeah," Sirius exhaled, almost a laugh. "That. And a butthead. And a reckless, selfish, emotionally constipated idiot."

"Well." Remus sipped his coffee. "I wouldn't say not constipated."

"Reg—he had nothing to do with her. Not really. And he became—he chose her. Protected her. Fought for her. Died for her. " He said
"And I ?  I ran away, rebelled, drank, whined, wallowed. I left Regulus to die in this hellhole with Walburga - I left Cassie before she could even speak. And now—now Regulus is dead, and I've got one chance left not to fuck this up—"

"You've said that before," Remus said

"I didn't mean it before," Sirius snapped. "I mean it now."

A long silence.

"She's going to stay here," Remus said eventually. "Right?"

"Obviously," Sirius muttered, setting his mug down. "If the Death Eaters are hunting her, she can't be out there alone."

"You know she won't stay."

"She will," Sirius said. "I'll talk to her."

Remus gave him a skeptical look. "And that'll work?"

"She's stubborn. So am I."

Remus snorted into his coffee. "Exactly my point."

A pause.

"We still have to tell Albus," Remus added, not looking up.

Sirius groaned into his cup  "Ugh. Whhyyy"

"He probably already knows," Remus said, shrugging. "You know how he works. But we still have to say it. For formality's sake or whatever."

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius muttered, draining the rest of his coffee. He stared at the empty cup for a second before sighing. "I'm just waiting on Kreacher. Sent him to get their stuff."

He raised his voice. "Kreacher!"

There was a pop. A moment later, the old elf appeared— arms overloaded. One hand gripped Cassiopeia's shrunken trunk, the other clutched what remained of Regulus in a wrapped bundle.

Sirius's eyes flickered toward the bundle "Is that it?"

"Theives," Kreacher croaked, eyes wild. "Filthy, thieving Muggles. Kreacher tried—tried to stop them. They took things. Precious things. From Master Regulus's room." His voice cracked. "Kreacher made them pay. But some of his treasures—they're gone. Kreacher was ordered to protect-"

Sirius swallowed hard interrupting him "Put her things outside her room," he said gruffly. "She... she might come back."

Kreacher nodded, but didn't move. He just stood there, trembling, staring at Sirius  Then slowly—hesitantly he  rreached into his rags, and drew out a weathered pouch. He held it out to Sirius with shaking hands.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to give this... when..." Kreacher's voice cracked "When he didn't come back." He wailed—and shoved the pouch into Sirius's hand before turning away, sobbing as he disappeared with another crack.

Sirius stared at it, hands not moving.

Remus laid a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "I'll give you a moment."

He left,  leaving Sirius alone— the pouch heavy in his hand. It felt absurdly small. Wrong, somehow, that his little brother's last words fit in something no bigger than a cigarette case.

He opened it.

There were three things inside.

The first:  a miniature, silver snitch—battered and dull, with a wing slightly bent. Sirius blinked. He hadn't seen this thing in—God—since they were kids.
One of the few times Regulus had played with Sirius in the garden. They were maybe seven. Sirius had given him the snitch to "shut him up" after Reg cried when Sirius told him he'd never be a good flyer.
He didnt think Regulus would have kept it all these years. Sirius stared at it now like it might fly again.

The second: a photograph. Valerie.
Valerie had the kind of face someone would write poems about—wild, open, lit with the kind of joy that Sirius remembered it well. Too well. He'd fallen for that once, back when they were both reckless and young
She had her arms wrapped tight around a little girl's middle—three-year-old Cassiopeia, suspended mid-squirm, all sharp elbows and Unruly curly hair. Cassie wasn't smiling—she was staring straight into the lens, big grey eyes blinking at the camera like it owed her something.
And behind them stood Regulus. Not stiff the way they were raised to be in portraits. Not with the grim, statue-like expressions their mother had drilled into them. No—he looked... awkward. A little crooked in the frame. But real. And there was a twitch of a smile on his face

This—this snapshot—was a life.

A family.

One he could have had, if he hadn't—

If he hadn't run. Like a Bloody coward. Only If he'd just turned back. 

Sirius closed his eyes for a second. Regret didnt even begin to cover what he was feeling.

 He sighed and pulled out the last thing in the bag. 

It was a letter

Sirius,

If you're reading this, I'm gone. Dead. Or worse. 
There's not really a graceful way to say that, is there? I wouldn't know- You always were the better one with words. With people. With charm. I was just the obedient one. The quiet one. The coward.

I don't know what you'll think of me now. Maybe you'll laugh. Maybe you'll curse me. Maybe you won't feel anything at all. That'd be fitting, wouldn't it?

I'm not going to lie or sugarcoat it—this isn't a letter full of sentiment or brotherly affection. I don't think we ever had that, not really. You stopped seeing me as your brother the moment i joined them.  

It's nothing about me. I'm long past saving. I made my choices. I followed the wrong people, for the wrong reasons, and by the time I realized it, I was already drowning. I don't expect your forgiveness. Hell, I wouldn't forgive me either.

But I need you to listen.

Please. Please, Sirius.

Keep Cassiopeia alive.

I know you hate her. I know she reminds you of everything you ran from. She has our temper, our name, our family's fucking legacy carved into her bones—and I know that when she looks at you, you see the worst of what we come from. She's sharp like Mother, quiet like me, and dangerous like something none of us ever learned to name.

But she is still not the worst of us.

She is the only thing I ever did right. The only thing I tried to do right.

There was a small ink blot. Like a pause. Like Regulus had stopped writing to breathe.

She's not a child anymore. But she's still my little girl. And she doesn't know how to stop fighting. She doesn't know how to ask for help. She doesn't know how to live, Sirius—not in a world where everyone she's ever loved either left or died. 

But you're still here.

So I'm begging you—I am begging you—don't let the dark take her. Don't let her become like me. She's walking a tightrope I don't think she even sees, and I can't hold her hand anymore.

But you can.

I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you hate her. Please. For the sake of whatever scrap of brotherhood we once had—whatever was real between us before the madness and the war —we owe her this.

Keep her alive.

That's all I'm asking.

That's all I've ever wanted.

—Regulus

Sirius stared at the letter far longer than he should have.

His fingers had curled around the parchment like it might vanish. He read it once. Then again. And again.

A single tear slipped down Sirius's cheek before he could stop it. He didn't even try to wipe it away.

Because suddenly, he was seven again — and Regulus was tugging on his sleeve, asking if the stars could see them back. Because suddenly, he was sixteen, storming out of the house, and Regulus had just watched him leave. Said nothing. Because suddenly, he was twenty-one and sitting in a cell, wondering if Regulus had died hating him.

And now—

He wasn't sure if this was forgiveness. Or a second chance. Or punishment.

Maybe all three.

Sirius folded the letter carefully, setting it down on his night stand, his fingers curling into fists 

"I'll keep her safe, Reggie," he whispered "I swear I'll try. Even if she hates me for it"

And for the first time in a long, long time— He meant it..

Remus walked back into the room. Hesitant. "You alright?"

Sirius didn't turn. Just let out a breath and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Yeah." His voice was hoarse. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Remus didn't push. He just nodded once and gestured toward the hallway. "Molly's made breakfast. Come on."

Sirius nodded, but stayed seated a second longer, staring blankly at the pouch. Then he stood, dragging a hand through his hair, and followed Remus into the kitchen.

It smelled like toast and eggs and something sweet. Familiar. Like nothing had changed. Like Regulus wasn't dead . Like Cassie hadn't dragged his body home. The table was half-set. Molly was bustling around the stove

Sirius sat down, slowly. Like even that hurt.

"Cassie?" he asked.

Remus pulled out a chair "Don't think she's woken up yet," he said, though his voice suggested otherwise. "Or maybe she has. She just hasn't come out."

Sirius didn't respond.

"Molly sent Kreacher up with some breakfast. Told him to make sure she eats."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And he listened?"

"Yeah," Remus said. "He did. He really does love Cassie"

Sirius let out a short, tired laugh. "Figures."

He reached for some toast, but barely touched it. Just held it between his fingers like he wasn't sure what to do with it. Across the table, Molly started calling the kids down like it was any other morning.

Sirius didn't look up. He tore a corner off the toast and stared at the crumbs. "She's gonna be alright, right?" he said, finally. His voice was hesitant. Like he was afraid of the answer.

Remus looked at him. "I wish I could tell you yes."

*******************************

Cassieopeia's Room

It started with water.

Cassie was standing in the middle of a black ocean.

No moon. No stars. No sound. Just a vast, rippling nothing. Her feet didn't touch the ground, but she wasn't floating either. It felt like... waiting.

And then—
He was there.

Regulus.

Not as he'd been in the fight—wounded, panting, furious—but younger. around 20? His expression unreadable.

"I knew it," she whispered. "You're alive."

He didn't speak.

Cassie reached out, stumbling toward him "I knew it wasn't real. You're not dead. You wouldn't—Reg, you wouldn't—" Her voice broke. "You wouldn't leave me."

His face was pale.

Too pale.

His mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Just static. His eyes — glassy. Blackened. Bruised.

"Reg?" she whispered. "Reg— I got us out. We made it. You're okay. You're here. You're—alive- Say something- please"

He stepped back. The shadows pulled at his feet swallowing him inch by inch. His lips kept moving. Still silent. Still staring.

And then—
His face twisted.

Not with fear. Not with love.

But loathing.

"It was your fault," he mouthed.

Cassie flinched.

"No—no, that's not—I tried—" 

But it was too late. His body buckled, eyes rolling back. The moment she reached him, he slipped through her fingers . He hit the ground with a soft thud and did not move.

Cassie screamed.

She dropped beside him, grabbed his shoulders — "No, no, no—don't do this to me—"

His eyes opened.

"You let me die."

The voice didn't come from him

It came from the shadows behind her.

She turned.

They were everywhere now. Pouring in from the corners of . The sea She was standing on was now just a void of shadows. All overe.  Crawling up her legs, whispering in her ears.

"It was your fault."
"You were too slow."
"You let him get hit."
"You failed."

Cassie shook her head violently, covering her ears. "Shut up. Shut UP—"

"He died for you."

"No—"

"He choked on your name."

"I said stop—!"

"You kill everything you touch."

The shadows lunged. Cassie staggered backward. Her hands sparked with magic but it fizzled out — dead, useless, empty. And then Regulus's body twitched. He sat up slowly, his neck clicking into placelike a puppt

But his eyes were wrong. Hollow. Blaming.

"You're the reason I died, you brought this war to me."

"Stop it—"

"I died for nothing."

"No, no, you—" Her knees hit the ground again. "You promised we would figh—"

"You left me first," he snarled, "You always ran."

"Dad, please—!"

He reached out.

Not tenderly.

Like he was about to pull her down with him.

His fingers gripped her wrist — cold, burning, too strong —

And then suddenly—

*****

She gasped—and woke up.A violent inhale. Her body lurched like she'd been punched awake. Cassie sat up so fast her vision spun.

She was in bed. Grimmauld Place.

Breath heaving. Fingers curled into the sheets, damp with sweat. Her arms trembled. Her shirt stuck to her skin.

For a second, she couldn't place anything. The walls were unfamiliar. Her muscles ached. Something smelled like antiseptic and wood. Then she saw the grey curtains, the cracked ceiling, the pile of her bloodstained robe

And everything hit at once.

It wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a dream.

He was dead.

Buried.

Gone.

Not in some metaphorical way. Not in some hopeful, maybe-they-faked-it way. Gone/
Her chest twisted. She pressed a hand over it like she could hold herself in place. Like something might break if she moved wrong.

A knock.

"Mistress?" came Kreacher's voice, muffled through the door. "Miss Molly has sent some food. You should eat."

Cassie said nothing.

He paused. "I brought porridge. And honey. Just how you like it. Please. Just one bite."

Still, nothing.

Cassie stared ahead at the curtains. She didn't blink.

Didn't speak.

Didn't feel anything.

Not grief. Not anger. Not fear.

Just... static.

Like her body was still here but her mind was somewhere else. Like if she moved too much, it would catch up to her—and she'd break in a way she wouldn't come back from.

She'd felt pain before.  But this? This was different.

This was absence.

This was him not coming back.

She couldn't even cry. Couldn't scream. Couldn't rage. She just... shut down. Her eyes were dry. Her pulse too slow. Kreacher stepped inside. His footsteps were quiet, and he kept his head low, like he was afraid of waking something. He placed the tray gently on the nightstand. Then looked up at her. His eyes were wide and wet.

"Mistress," he whimpered. "Please."

Cassie didn't look at him.

Didn't even acknowledge him.

She just lay back down, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling like it might collapse.

Maybe she was still dreaming.

Maybe she never woke up.

And even if she had—

What was left to wake up for?

*************

*************

Sirius pov

The stairs creaked under his boots. Sirius hadn't meant to go up there. He'd told himself to give her space, let her sleep, let Kreacher try—but when Kreacher came down ten minutes ago tray untouched

"She didn't eat?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Kreacher just shook his head, looking small. "Mistress didn't speak or look. Just... lay there."

So now he was here.

At her door. 

Sirius paused outside her room. For a moment, he just stood there, hand resting against the wood, like if he pressed hard enough, it might open on its own.

He knocked. "Cassie?" he said, voice low. "It's me."

Nothing.

He tried again, a little louder. "Come on. Just... open the door."

Still nothing.

His brow furrowed. He tried the knob.

Locked.

He knocked harder. "Cassiopeia—please I just want to know you are alright"

Silence.

Not stubborn silence. Not angry silence. A Dead silence.

Sirius exhaled, stepped back, rubbed a hand down his face "She locked the door," he muttered, to no one. He stood there another moment. Listening. Hoping, stupidly, that maybe she'd say something. A word. A curse. A snarl. Anything.

But there was nothing.

Just the weight of everything he hadn't said when Regulus was alive. Everything he couldn't say to her now. With an exhale , he turned and walked back down the stairs.

He didn't see it—

but Cassie was there.

Right on the other side of the door.

Sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, head pressed against the wood. Eyes open. Staring at nothing. She'd taken in her trunk.

She'd locked the door, not to keep anyone out.

But to keep herself in.

Because she knew what she'd do if she stepped outside.

And Sirius?

Sirius had no idea.

***************************************************
******************************************************

The first night blurred into the second before she realized the sun had ever gone down.

Cassie didn't remember falling asleep. Probably because she hadn't.

There was a buzz outside the door. Not in her ears this time, Alive. Voices. Movement. Someone had arrived. Cassie lay on her side, curled like a dead thing that hadn't yet realized it was dead.

The voices outside were low at first—murmurs. Familiar. The thud of boots, the rustle of cloaks, Molly's loud hush. Something dropped in the kitchen. Chairs scraped. Laughter.

Laughter.

It sliced through her numbness. Her muscles locked, her breath caught, and her nails dug into her own arms where they'd been resting against her ribs. There was blood under her fingernails already—from earlier, when she'd smashed her hand against the desk and hadn't even registered the sting

But she hadn't screamed. She didn't deserve to scream.

She only blinked once, eyes dry, face blank.

There it was again. That laugh. High-pitched. A boy. Harry Bloody Potter.

Of course.

They'd all come running to comfort him. To make sure he was okay. Because Harry, the Chosen One, needed support. Needed silence and soup and sympathy.

And Cassie?

Cassie had dragged Regulus's lifeless body 

Cassie had buried him

Cassie had locked herself in this room and hadn't spoken since.

And no one knocked anymore.

Except Sirius.

He tried. Every few hours, maybe less. The second time, his voice had cracked. "Cass? It's me."

No response.

The third time was louder. More desperate. "Open the door. Please. Just—just let me see you."

She hadn't moved.

After that, he'd come back and just leaned his head against the wood. Whispered something like, I know you hate me but I don't know what to do. One time she thought she heard him cry.

But she still didn't open the door. She didn't answer.

Because if she opened that door, if she saw him, she might actually say what was screaming inside her:

He died saving me.

And you—

You're the one who should've die—

Her hands trembled. She bit down hard enough on her lip to taste blood. She kept quiet. It was Silent

Except when she wasn't.

Because every once in a while, the silence breaked. Cassie would suddenly move—throwing her dagger across the room, embedding it into the door with a thud  She had three knives—and she'd flung them all at the same spot, again and again, until the wood chipped around the edgess. Like if she just hit hard enough, maybe time would reverse. Maybe the door would collapse. Maybe Regulus would walk in, annoyed and alive.

************
************

Time moved slow-  The Night was slower. Like it wanted her to feel every second. Every thought. Every pain. 

Life at Grimmaulds was as normal as ever. The buzzing. The laughter. Molly's fussing/

But none of it touched her.

She lay curled on the bed Watchnig the sun rise for the third time , cheek pressed to the mattress, body too still, eyes open too long. She didn't cry. Couldn't. The tears had dried in her chest. Nothing left to leak out.

The room smelled like failure. Her failure. Her blood matted torn robes piled up across the room,. A reminder that she failed- she lost that fight- she fled like a coward instead of avenging him.

Sometimes, she stared at it too long and felt the bile rise in her throat.

Sometimes, she closed her eyes and saw the blood again—on his shoulder, on her hands.

It was her fault.
She should've seen Rookwoods hand twitch.
She should've moved faster. Shielded harder. Fought dirtier.

If she had—
IOnly if she had—

She curled tighter, A photo frame digging into her side. She didn't even remember grabbing it, but it had been clutched in her hand when she woke up the second time. 

Her and Regulus—three years ago—sitting on their living room floor, parchment scattered around them. She was laughing. He was pretending not to. His fingers smudged with ink. Her head tipped against his shoulder.

She stared at it for hours.
Like if she focused hard enough, she could force it back into the present.

But the time didn't shift.
The shadows stayed the same.

But she forced herself to eat.

Kreacher slid food trays in through the gap beneath the door now. He didn't knock. Didn't speak. He just left the tray. She ate enough to not faint. Enough to stay upright.

Sometimes she forgot.
Other times, she forced herself—mechanically

That was the point.

She had to stay alive.

Because Regulus was dead. And she hadn't killed the people who did it yet. That was the only reason she didn't let herself fall fully into the abyss. Not yet.

******************

The nightmares had only gotten worse. She hadn't slept properly since -  Well - Because- Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Regulus collapsing in front of her, mouth open like he was trying to say something  but couldn't. Her magic flaring too late. Her hands too slow.
Sometimes she saw Rookwood laughing.
Other times, she saw Sirius holding the wand that killed him.

Cassie slid down the door like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Let her forehead fall to her knees. And didn't make a sound. She didn't know what time it was. Didn't care.

And then—

A knock

And then the quiet thud of someone sitting down on the other side.

Sirius. Again.

She didn't need to ask. No one else came around her room.

But this time he didn't say a word.

Didn't try to explain. Didn't try to beg.

He just stayed.

Cassie's shoulder leaned against the doorframe, On the other side, she could hear the shift of fabric, the quiet scratch of his coat against the wood as he unconsciously mirrored her.

They were back to back now. A door between them.

Inches away.

But still miles apart.

She closed her eyes.

Everyone else thought it was fine.
That she was resting.
Healing.
Sleeping through the grief
But she wasn't sleeping.
She wasn't healing.

She was breaking.

Quietly. Slowly. Thoroughly. Not in the ways people noticed.

Because Cassiopeia Black didn't cry.
Didn't scream.
Didn't fall to pieces where anyone could see.

She just... disappeared . Folded into herself, And no one saw it.

Because to them silence meant recovery. strength.

Except—it didn't. Not for her.

Silence, for Cassiopeia, meant surrender. It meant she didn't have the words left to fight. Didn't have the energy to pretend.

And Sirius—Sirius didn't try to fix it for once. Didn't try to barge in, or talk her down, or force a conversation she wasn't ready for.

He just... sat.

Still.

Breathing.

There was something cruelly intimate about it. Sitting like this. With everything said and unsaid between them, He shifted again, just slightly, and her head tipped toward the sound unconsciously. 

Neither of them spoke. 

And maybe that was the point.
Because this grief wasn't meant to be solved.

It was meant to be witnessed.

And Sirius Black—the stubborn bastard—was finally learning how to do that.

Quietly.

Without expectation. Just being there, even if he wasn't allowed to

Cassie exhaled. A shallow breath.

And on the other side of the door, Sirius did the same.

***************************************************
***************************************************

Tw-panic attack

Cassie hadn't realized when exactly she'd surrendered to sleep after over fifteen hours of just being Awake. Maybe more. She didn't even remember curling into herself at the door itself, just that the floor had started to feel warm under her cheek. She'd barely been out ten minutes.

And then—
Thump.

Cassie's eyes snapped open. A joltruning through her skin. Muscles locking. Spine rigid.

It wasn't loud. It could've been anything. 

A coat falling. Someone knocking something over.

But her mind didn't register any of that.

All it heard was a body hitting the ground.

Regulus.

Thump.
The way he'd crumpled. Boneless. Final.

Just like that.

Her breath caught—choked—and she slapped a hand over her mouth before the sound could escape.

Not a scream.
Not a sob.

Just... something trying to claw its way out after days.

Her other hand braced hard against the floor, shaking as she struggled to breathe. Eyes wide. The world tunneling. The room too close. Her whole body locked. Not like fear. Not like grief. This was other. This was a full-body revolt. Her lungs refused to fill. Her ribs clenched tight 

And worst—worst—her chest let out a sound. Barely a sound. A broken, unintentional gasp.

Cassie pressed her palm over her mouth harder. Too loud. Too loud. If they heard her—if her silencing charm cracked—they'd come in. They'd see her like this. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't be seen.  

She curled tighter, forehead pressed to her knees, and shoved her hand into her mouth. Hard. Fingers between her teeth, palm sealing her lips shut. Not to cry. She wasn't crying. She couldn't cry.  Because Cassiopeia Black did not fall apart.

Not even now.

Not even when she was alone.

Not even when her brain kept playing the thump on repeat. Over and over again.

Regulus, falling. His knees buckling. His body slamming into the ground with that same, sickening sound.

"Stop," she whispered into her hand. "Stop, stop, stop—"

She just couldn't risk the sound. Her shoulders rocked, chest spasming in tiny, silent heaves as her body forced a panic attack she didn't have the energy to feel. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She was Cassiopeia Black. She survived the Department of Mysteries. She faced Bellatrix Lestrange and didn't break. She'd buried every ounce of weakness in herself since she was four.

But now, here, in the goddamnroom of Grimmauld Place—
She was going to implode.

She couldn't stop shaking.
She couldn't breathe right.
Her heart was clawing at her throat.

She bit down on her fingers. Didn't care. She couldn't make a sound. Because what if they heard?  What if her silencing charms collapsed? What if someone knocked?

What if they said his name?

She gagged and retched into her sleeve, but nothing came out. Just air.  Her eyes burned. But not a single tear fell.

But her brain wouldn't stop screaming.

He's gone. You saw him fall. You saw him die. He's not here. He's not here. He's not here—

Another sound outside—just someone walking this time—but it sent her flinching again, her whole body curling tighter, like she could fold herself into nothing if she just stayed small enough, quiet enough.

She stayed like that until her arm went numb and her breath started to even out into long, dry hiccups. Her jaw ached from clenching. 

Her silence charm still held. The door didn't open. No one came.

She was safe. But she didn't feel anything at all.

Only the sound of the thump, echoing inside her head. And her mind playing the scene of Regulus falling lifeless- 

Over. And over. And over.

She could barely breathe .But- 

She was still alive.

And it was the cruelest thing the universe had ever done.

Everything ached.

Her throat. Her ribs. Her silence. At some point later on, she found her fingers drifting—slowly, mechanically—to the inside of her wrist.

Not even thinking. Not even feeling. Just... tracing. 

The skin there was thin. She could feel her pulse, weak and erratic, like it didn't want to be in her body either. The dagger lay beside her. She hadn't meant to keep it that close.

She hadn't meant—

Her fingers brushed it.

Cold metal. Familiar in her hands. Too easy. A single press. Just one line. Not enough to bleed. Not yet.

She wouldn't. Not until he was avenged. Not until Rookwood was burning. But sometimes... sometimes she wanted to - feel something else. Something other than silence.  Just to break the suffocating numbness choking her.

Knock. Knock. Knock

A frantic knock shattered the silence. Cassie jolted, the dagger slipping from her grasp, clattering against the floor.

Her breath caught, Of course. Sirius again.

"Piss off," she rasped hoarsely, not even moving

But the voice that came wasn't his. 

"Mistress."

Kreacher. She closed her eyes. Off ccourse. He probably brought food. Again.

"Leave it and go."

A pause.

"Mistress - It's... Master Nott."

Cassie's head snapped up. Something inside her snapped so violently it almost made her flinch.

Theo.

She hadn't even thought of him. Not really. Not since—Reg died- Not in the days she'd wasted rotting in this room, choking on guilt - Like that was helping

He was still there. Still with that monster. That house.  That father.

 And she—  What kind of girlfriend—what kind of person was she? She hadn't even checked.  Hadn't burned the world down to get him out.

She'd let herself drown in her own grief while he—

Her Theo.

What if he was dead?
What if that monster had killed him?

You selfish, self-obsessed, miserable bitch.

You let him rot.
You let him suffer.
You were too busy tending your wounds while he bled out somewhere else.

She was the reason he might be dead now.

Her eyes burned. Her body moved on instinct. She stood too fast, knees nearly buckling under her. Her hands fumbled against the doorframe,  "What did you say?" she rasped.

"Master Nott, mistress. He's asking for you—"

"Where?"

"Outside."

Cassie threw the door open for the first time in three days ,clutching her wand  She didn't stop to think—her feet were already moving as she bolted out of the room

She ran. Down the hallway. Down the stairs.

She ran.

Past Molly's startled gasp—"Cassiopeia?"
Past the sharp mutterings of the Weasleys, who half-rose from the kitchen
Past the flicker of Hermione's stunned eyes and the sound of Harry's chair scraping back.
She even ignored Sirius. He was standing at the bottom of the staircase, one hand braced against the banister like he'd just seen a ghost.

Because maybe he had.

Cassie looked... wrong.

Hollow.

As if the soul inside her had been scraped out and discarded. Her eyes were sunken, wild- her face deathly pale- not the regal, porcelain kind She carried, but the kind that looked wrong, like it had been drained of all color and life. More so against the ink-black curtain of her hair—which wasn't tied back, but loose and tangled down her back

And then there was the shirt. An oversized, faded black tee that swallowed her small frame,  It was Regulus's. There was no mistaking the faint crest of House Black half-washed out on the hem. 

"Cassie—" Sirius stepped forward, but she tore past him without so much as a glance.

She couldn't see anything. Her vision had tunneled, narrowed to the front door like it was a lifeline. And it was her lifeline-

Theo.

Theo was here.

And she had to see him.
Had to touch him.
Had to make sure— He was still there—Alive— hers.

Because If she'd lost him, too—

She wouldn't survive it.

*******************************************************

Oh shit- This was so much harder to write - I had to read 3 different fanfictions to write this cos - even though i have studied psychology for 2 years- writing this kind of stuff- or spiraling isnt my strong forte-

And searching up panic attack symptoms- triggers-

crazy overall

anywyas- so this chapter didnt contribute to the plot- it only focused on- Cassies emotional shut down- Sirius start of redemption? AAnnd-

UPCOMING WE HAVE THEO'S FATE- STORY- CASS X THEO- 

 2 MORE CHAPTERS I THINK BEFORE THEY HEAD TO HOGWARTS ITHINK

IM STILL PLAYING WITH ONE EXTRA CHAPTER I THE MIDDLE- WHICH IM UNSURE OF

uhmmm- yesss-

till next time  (im crying - i hate seeing my cassie- like this)

mxriddle