The end of the school holidays made Grimmauld Place as hectic as Regulus had ever known it to be. It was as though the house had been taken over by two miniature whirlwinds as Carina and Harry clattered up and down the stairs like a herd of erumpents, yelling about homework and robes and owl treats. It was a far cry from the enforced sedateness of his own schooldays.

"MUM! Harry's got my Herbology textbook and he won't give it back!"

"No I haven't!"

"Yes you have! You didn't bother bringing yours back so you took mine to finish your essay and now I can't find it so you must still have it!"

With a sigh and a groan that made him feel twice his age, Regulus rose from his chair and stepped onto the landing to see if he might help resolve this latest argument. But when greeted with the sight of parchment scraps, odd socks, spilled ink and what looked like the entire contents of a first year's potions kit strewn down the staircase and across the landing carpet he made a hasty retreat back into the library.

"Carina, please stop shouting," came Clementine's tired voice. Regulus felt like a coward for leaving her to deal with the drama (again) and hesitated near the door.

"But I can't find it!"

"That doesn't mean you have to go around shouting and creating such a mess. Please clean this up."

"Make Kreacher do it."

"It's your responsibility to clean up your messes Carina, not Kreacher's."

"What's the point in even having a house-elf then?"

"Don't be so disrespectful! Kreacher's existence does not revolve around you. I want this tidied up before I get back with your clean robes, do you understand?"

"Fine."

Harry slunk into the library and stopped, surprised, when he saw Regulus lurking near the doorway.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"It's alright," said Regulus, and gestured towards the door. "I heard. Is it always like this before you go back to school?"

Harry raised a shoulder in a shrug and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I s'pose."

Regulus regarded the boy thoughtfully. He looked rather forlorn. Perhaps he wasn't particularly looking forward to going back to Hogwarts tomorrow — or perhaps it was just bickering with Carina that had put him in such a sombre mood.

"Perhaps we could have a look for Carina's textbook?"

"I didn't take it!" Harry said hurriedly.

"I didn't say you did. If Carina is anything like her mother it will have been abandoned beneath a pile of clothes or left forgotten in the bottom of her trunk. Here," he raised his wand. "Accio."

To Regulus's surprise, the Herbology textbook in question didn't come zooming from Carina's bedroom or someplace else in the house. Instead, it wriggled its way out of a nearby bookshelf and floated neatly into his hand. Regulus handed it to Harry, who turned it over and peered suspiciously inside the front cover as if to ensure that it really was the same book that Carina had accused him of taking.

"Kreacher must have been quite fastidious in his tidying up last night," Regulus remarked.

"Yeah. Well, thanks…" Harry said awkwardly, and turned to leave.

"Before you go," said Regulus, stalling him. "I have something I thought you might be interested in."

Harry looked at him in confusion, but took a few steps closers. Regulus reached over to a stack of books at the side of the chair where he had been sitting and lifted the top one from the pile. He looked down at it fondly and gave a little sigh of nostalgia, his hand sweeping over the worn leather cover. The gold lettering on the front was faded but remained just about visible: Snatching the Snitch, the Comprehensive Guide to Seeker Strategy (fifty-seventh edition).

He felt oddly nervous as he turned back to Harry and offered him the book. Clementine and Carina and, well, everyone had commented on how much Harry loved Quidditch and how keen he was to try out for the team next year… so maybe he should have waited to give him the book until September? Or the summer at least, so he would be able to actually use the book? Was it cruel to give it to him now, when he would only be able to practice on the terrible old school brooms at Hogwarts? Did the school even have practice brooms available any more? They had always been so terrible and old even when he had been a child… perhaps he could make a donation or purchase some new ones for the school, when he had cleared his name.

"I'm sure there are newer editions available," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But I hope you will still find it as useful as I did when I was your age."

"This is brilliant," Harry said, and a grin was spreading wider across his face as he flipped through the pages. The book was filled with strategies, plays, formations, all illustrated with moving diagrams, as well as recounts of the quickest and most outrageous snitch catches in Quidditch history, and the on- and off-pitch exploits of famous Seekers. "What are these?"

He was pointing at the shimmering silver page markers that were scattered throughout the book, seemingly at random.

"Ah, I placed those to mark my favourite moves. Or ones that I wanted to try."

"Cool," Harry breathed.

Regulus felt an unusual warmth spread through his chest and he stood a little taller, hands clasped behind his back. He couldn't remember a time that anyone had ever deemed anything that he had done as being cool. He wondered if this was how Sirius felt, all the time. No wonder he always looked so sure of himself.

"Well, if you have any questions about anything…"

"Yeah. Thanks!" Harry grinned, and closed the book with a snap. "I'd better give Carina her textbook back…"

"Of course."

Regulus followed him to the door and watched with interest as Harry gave the Herbology tome back to Carina. She looked rather grumpy as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the landing, balling socks into pairs without bothering to see if they matched. She accepted the book with a muttered thanks.

"What's that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the old Seeker book that Harry was holding in his other hand.

"Oh, just an old book Regulus gave me," Harry said with a shrug.

"What? Why?" Carina's mouth dropped open and she lifted her gaze from Harry to her father, standing a few paces behind him. Regulus could see the confusion and hurt in her eyes and felt a pang of guilt.

"I also have something for you, Carina," he said quickly. "I was going to give it to you later but I suppose you might as well have it now. Come on, it's upstairs."

"But Mum said I have to clean this…"

"What your mother doesn't know won't hurt her," he said, throwing his daughter a wink. With a wave of his wand the spilled ink dried up, the scattered herbs and vials packed themselves back away into their potion kit, and the carpet looked as good as new again.

"But…" Carina's eyes found Harry again and she cast him a suspicious look.

"I didn't see anything!" Harry grinned, hands raised in front of him, and ran downstairs.

"Come on," Regulus insisted, and he and his daughter walked up to the top floor of the house side by side. Carina took a seat on his big bed and watched as Regulus fished around for the gift he had made for her in his bedside table.

"Parchment?" she asked, not bothering to conceal the disappointment in her voice as he handed her the gift.

"It's not just parchment," he said, a little defensively. "Sirius told me about the communication mirrors that he uses to talk to you and Harry while you were away at school. I couldn't help but think that it must be terribly inconvenient for you, since you and Harry are in different houses and different classes a lot of the time."

"It's okay," she shrugged, curling the edges of the parchment in her hands. "Me and Mum write a lot instead."

"Well, this will be like writing letters. Only quicker."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Here," he said and took a short quill from the breast pocket of his shirt. "Write something."

She looked intrigued and balanced the sheet of parchment on her knee, writing the world hello in wobbly cursive. Regulus produced a matching sheet, unfolded it, and showed it to her: it bore a perfect replica of the word she had just written.

"The pages are twins," he explained, as her eyes grew wide. "Whatever you write on your sheet will appear on mine, instantly. And whatever I write here, will appear on yours."

He demonstrated by writing hello Carina, and she gasped with delight.

"Does it stay there forever? What happens when there's no more space on the parchment?"

"The writing will stay there until one of us clears our page. The spell is abfugio; you just need to tap your wand to the page and the writing will disappear. Give it a try."

"I don't have my wand with me," she said.

"You should always have your wand about your person, even when you're at home," he said, perhaps a little too sternly. "But it's alright, you can use mine."

She looked at him as if he were offering her Excalibur and gingerly reached out her hand to take the wand from him. He watched her curiously as she held the pockmarked wood gently in her palm, turning it over and appearing to examine every inch of its scratched and dented surface. He found himself wishing he had taken better care of it in the face of such scrutiny.

"Is it cypress?" she asked.

"It is," he nodded, impressed at her knowledge. "With a dragon heartstring core."

"I knew it," she whispered. "The wood of heroes."

Regulus shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think there's much truth in those old rhymes."

"Mum's is pear. Resilient."

"And yours?"

"Sycamore. For the curious," she grinned at this, then cleared her throat before tapping Regulus's wand to her parchment. "Abfugio!"

Their handwriting slowly dissolved into nothing, leaving both their pages blank once more. Carina kicked her feet against the side of the bed in pleasure and, a little reluctantly, handed Regulus back his wand.

"Yours is quite plain, like mine," she observed. "Mum's is really pretty with all those swirly bits on the handle."

"Yes, her wand has always been like that. Some people carve patterns or symbols onto theirs, for protection or enhancements or just to make them look a bit different, I suppose."

"I could do that!"

"No," he said firmly. "Not until you come of age."

"How come?"

"It's bad luck."

"Alright," she said, and nodded sagely. She looked back down at the parchment in her hands, stroking down its edges with her thumbs. "So… if I write to you when I'm away at school, you'll write back to me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you!" she said, and suddenly she was hugging him, her arms squeezing around him and her face buried in his shirt. "This is the best thing anyone has ever given to me."

He was quite positive that was an exaggeration, but allowed himself to be pulled into the glow of her happiness and hugged her back.

The following morning, Regulus didn't quite know what to do with himself.

While Clementine was sitting quite serenely at the dining table with a cup of tea in hand, idly flicking through the latest issue of Charmer magazine and seemingly unaware of the hubbub around her, Sirius was thundering up and down the stairs with armfuls of laundry, leaving trails of socks and sweaters in his wake. The children were yelling again upstairs, and Lupin was, bizarrely, acting as Kreacher's sous chef down in the kitchen.

"I thought they'd packed last night?" Regulus asked, glancing towards the ceiling.

"Oh, they claimed they had. Harry will have forgotten to pack his uniform and upon finding his trunk already full will be deciding whether chocolate frogs are more necessary than trousers. Carina will have misplaced her textbooks again and will be blaming everyone but herself for their disappearance. Again."

"Perhaps I should—"

"No, sit," she said with a sympathetic smile. "There's little more to be done. We'll be leaving at half ten and if there's anything they haven't packed they'll just have to make do until we can send it up to them."

So Regulus decided to follow his wife's lead, taking the seat beside her and reaching for the morning's Prophet which was lying at the head of the table. He looked out to the hallway at the sound of one of the children dragging their trunk down the stairs, creating a loud and obnoxious thump on every step. Regulus massaged his temples and wished someone would just levitate it.

Harry met Lupin outside the dining room, his dark hair sticking up in all directions.

"All packed?" asked Lupin. "Is Hedwig in her cage?"

"Yep."

"Uniform?"

"Yep."

"Homework all finished?"

"Erm… yes?"

"It would be nice to get through the rest of the year without any more detentions, but I suppose you have a family tradition to uphold," he sighed. "Go on, breakfast is ready. Carina!"

Harry slumped into a chair across the table from them as Carina's voice echoed from somewhere upstairs. Remus placed a platter of sliced fruit and delicious-looking pastries onto the table before taking the seat next to Harry.

"How come we're eating in here?" asked Harry, reaching for a particularly sticky pecan plait that Regulus had been eyeing up.

"So I can keep an eye on you all," Clementine said. She closed her magazine and poured Harry a tall glass of juice. "I can't very well do that from the kitchen, can I?"

Harry shrugged and began tearing his pecan plait into strips. He sprayed flakes of warm pastry all over the white tablecloth which Lupin deftly vanished before Kreacher could arrive and give him one of those dreaded Looks.

Said house-elf appeared next, loaded down with steaming plates of bacon and eggs and baked beans and toast. Sirius and Carina were right behind him. Carina slipped into the seat next to Regulus looking quite morose, while Sirius bounded around the table and began heaping piles of food onto Harry's plate.

"Are you looking forward to going back to school?" Regulus asked his daughter in a low voice.

She shrugged, staring down at her plate as she ran a finger around its edge.

"You're not excited to see your friends again?"

"I wish you were coming too," she said, slouching down in her seat so she was leaning against his arm. Clementine glanced over at them and gave him a warm smile.

"I think I'm a little too old to be going back to school," he said lightly.

She gave a heavy sigh but was immediately distracted as Sirius had apparently grown satisfied with the mountain of food he had bestowed on Harry and was now attempting to give Carina the same.

"Stop! I can't eat that!" she cried, covering her plate with her hands.

"Why not? It's bacon!"

"I'm a vegetarian!"

Regulus looked to Clementine, who merely shrugged.

"No you're not," Harry scoffed.

"Yes I am!"

"You can have eggs though, right?" asked Sirius. She nodded and watched warily as Sirius deposited his forkful of bacon rashers onto Regulus's plate and scooped a rather large amount of scrambled eggs onto hers.

"Eat up, Reg!" Sirius beamed at Regulus's raised eyebrow and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a growing boy."

Breakfast continued without further argument as Harry chatted away happily about how he was looking forward to seeing his friends Ron and Neville and Hermione, and even the half-giant Hagrid who was apparently still both gamekeeper and benevolent towards all Gryffindors. Carina remained glum, but managed to get through most of her breakfast.

Sirius was jittery. Regulus could see his leg bouncing up and down beneath the table and noticed how he couldn't keep his hands still, constantly moving between his cutlery and his mug of coffee, twisting in the tablecloth and Lupin's sleeve as if he were using the man as an anchor. He watched them carefully, noting how Lupin's steady presence seemed to have, gradually, a calming effect on his brother. He realised that Lupin did a much better job of regulating Sirius's ever-changing moods than he had ever done.

All too soon, it was time to leave. Lupin embraced both children, patting them on the head and bidding them to behave themselves.

"But not too much," Sirius added with a wink. Harry laughed loudly and shook Regulus's hand, thanking him again for the book. Carina's bottom lip was trembling and she darted forwards to give Regulus a hug so tight she almost knocked him over. She gave his cheek a wet kiss and made him promise to write every single night, and then disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace holding her mother's hand.

"It doesn't get any easier," Lupin said, unhelpfully, and patted Regulus's shoulder as he left the room.

He retreated upstairs under the pretence of finishing up his statement to the Ministry, but found himself unable to focus on anything but his daughter. It was decidedly strange (though definitely nice) to think that his presence had had such an effect on her that she was feeling reluctant to go back to school, back to her friends.

He wondered what she was doing now. Had she found her friends? Was she in a carriage with them, or sitting with Harry? Did they share friends at all, or did they go their separate ways at school? Did she like buying treats from the trolley on the train or would she wait for the feast in the Great Hall — should he have asked Kreacher to prepare something for her to take with her in case she got hungry? Did she even have any gold for the trolley? Did Clementine give her pocket money? Had she remembered to pack everything — had she remembered the parchment he had given her? Would she use it? Tonight, perhaps, after the feast when she was back in her dormitory? What was her dormitory like? Did she have photographs and postcards around her bed, as he had done? Should they have taken photographs during the holidays, so she might— no. She wasn't allowed to talk about him to her friends, not yet. Would she remember? Or would she give him away, accidentally, a slip of the tongue?

There were footsteps on the landing, and he turned as Clementine entered the room. She was still wearing her coat; she must have come straight to him after leaving King's Cross.

"You're wet," he remarked, reaching out for a strand of her damp hair as she came to stand beside his chair.

"It's raining. Maman always said that rain at the platform was auspicious, a sign of a good term to come."

"Was it ever? Auspicious, I mean?" he asked, casting a drying charm over her as she unfastened her coat.

"Perhaps," she said, her pink-stained lips twitching into a smile. "I met you, didn't I?"

"Some might call that the opposite of auspicious."

"Some. But not me."

She sighed and took a perch on the arm of his chair, snaking her arm around his neck as she leaned into him.

"Lupin said it never gets easier. When they leave," he said quietly as he gazed out of the window.

"They're a part of you, even if they don't share your blood… I miss them both terribly when they're gone."

He nodded and considered how fortunate the two children were to have so many people that cared about them enough to miss them when they were away from home. He was certain that nobody in his family had ever missed him when he had gone to school. Quite the opposite, in fact. He imagined Walburga and Orion relished the days when their children were old enough to be forgotten about.

"For a long time," said Clementine, her voice filled with a wistfulness. "Carina felt like the only connection I had left to you. A part of you was kept alive through her, in her expressions or her mannerisms or her curiosity… and whenever she was away from me, it was as though she had taken a piece of my heart away with her."

He swallowed, feeling that tightness in his throat, the guilt that his actions had caused her such pain.

"I will still miss her. I'm still dreadfully sad that she will be gone until the summer. But I'm not so sad as I would be if you were not here. I couldn't bear it if you were taken from me again," she whispered, sliding from the arm of the chair and into his lap.

She was talking about the possibility of Azkaban, he knew, hanging over their heads like a dark cloud. As she nestled into the warmth of his neck he held her close and wished he could ease her fears. He couldn't, because they were his fears too.

The corner of his statement — his confession — peered out from its hiding place between the thick pages of a Latin dictionary, leering at him. Regulus closed his eyes and tried to forget the dates he had written, the names he had remembered and the ones he had never known, the deeds he had heard about and witness and done. But forgetting about those things was about as possible as forgetting the woman in his arms had been. An eternity could pass before he would forget.

He wished he could tell her that her fears were for naught, that there would be no trial. Or if there were, that it would be just for show. He wished he could tell her that he would be here by her side for a lifetime or more.

Instead, he held her tightly and tried to commit this moment to memory. The curve of her waist, the warmth of her body, the beating of her heart against his chest. Her soft breath on his neck and the smell of her perfume mixed with the dampness of the rain outside.

He hoped this memory would be enough to shield him from the dementors' despair, should it come to that.