auste

Rest in peace, Regulus Black. They both loved you.

The sky above the cemetery was a heavy, dull grey, a smothering blanket that seemed to press down on the earth itself. A cold stillness clung to everything, broken only by the faint sound of leaves brushing against gnarled branches. Between the ancient, moss-covered tombstones, narrow trails cut through sodden grass and fallen leaves, darkened by the persistent rain. Time felt frozen here. Silence hung thick and absolute, punctuated only by the occasional caw of a crow perched atop a stone angel.

"Regulus Arcturus Black, heir of the great and ancient house of Black."

The lettering on the tombstone was simple, etched into the stone like a whisper. No dates, no flourish – just a name. For a name meant to echo through centuries, it was shockingly bare, almost forsaken. And yet it lay there, quiet and resolute, mirroring Regulus himself.

A faint smell of carnations lingered, delicate and defiant against the damp earth – a reminder that someone, somewhere, had not forgotten him.

Barty crouched by the grave, fingers brushing the cold, rain-slicked stone. His touch was reverent, almost fragile, as though he could feel the lingering pulse of Regulus in that quiet moment between life and death. Kneeling, he sank into the mud, the chill seeping through his clothes, yet he welcomed it. It drew him closer, made him feel nearer to the boy he had lost.

"You ruined me, Regulus," he whispered, voice trembling in the dense silence.

"You ruined me, and now you’re gone. I wish you’d let me lie with you, but you’re not here. You’re not here. Tell me… tell me how I’m supposed to sleep at night knowing you’re not coming back."

"I followed you everywhere, you know. I would have done anything for you. And I did, didn’t I? Why did you go so soon? Why… Why didn’t you let me come with you?"

"I can’t let you go," he admitted, voice raw. "I’ve tried. I’ve lost everything because of you… and I’d lose it all again just to have you back, even for a heartbeat."

Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. Regulus couldn’t wipe his tears away for him anymore. There was no point in crying.

When he lifted his head, the graveyard stretched empty, gray, and endless. Then, movement. A shadow among shadows, sliding between the headstones, black against the black.

A dog lay there, absurdly close to Regulus’ grave. Its fur was matted and filthy, blending into the darkness. The creature pressed itself against the stone as if to shield it.

Its eyes met his. Grey.

It was the closest Barty would ever come to seeing Regulus’ eyes again.

"Go away, mutt," Barty muttered, unease prickling his spine. “Leave.”

The dog did not move an inch. Its gaze held his, steady, unflinching, impossibly intelligent.

"I said leave!" His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his grief and growing irritation.

The dog’s stare did not waver.

"Get away from him!" he shouted, voice raw. "There’s nothing here for you! No bones! Nothing! This grave is empty! Scram!”

A low, guttural growl sliced through the damp air. The dog’s grey eyes narrowed, meeting Barty’s fury with something that felt almost defiant.

Barty’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. He let out a shuddering breath, shoulders sagging. "Fine," he whispered, broken. "Stay here, then."

One last glance – the dog had lowered itself, still pressed against the gravestone, eyes never leaving his.

Barty sank back to his knees beside the grave, back to the muddy ground. The dog settled closer to the stone, pressing its body against it, its eyes leaving the other after what seemed like an eternity. For a long moment, they simply stayed like that – two souls beside the grave of a boy who had left too soon.