Left With More Than a Memory

Pieces

Hi all! Thank you so very much for returning and for your patience! I have had a wild time in which I moved countries but am now decidedly settled and hopefully able to turn out more regular updates. I hope you're all well and enjoy this update.

Pieces

Orla turned a lost gaze from the door through which her husband had just left to her sister in law. She made a move to get up but Minerva gave a small nod and rose instead. Orla sank slowly back down into her chair and watched her go, the sound of the door closing rippling like thunder through the silent room.

Minerva's hand slipped from the handle of the door as she took a slow step forward into the calm night air. The stars slowly depositing the flakes of a new snow around her. The exceptional quiet created by a fresh blanket rang in her ears as the night's announcement played over and over in her mind. Her brother stood just a few steps beyond her, lightly illuminated by the glow from the house. Minerva brought her hands to her forearms as the cold wind took its first biting breath and she moved further forward. The crackling of the frozen earth beneath her feet alerted Malcolm to her presence. He exhaled sharply and threw a newly lit cigarette at his feet, rapidly waving the smoke away from air around him.

"You didn't see that" he said shakily as he turned to face her. The low light hitting a solitary tear rolling slowly down his face.

"See what?" his sister replied, mustering a small smirk as she reached him. Malcolm had picked up the habit as a teenager and become a heavy smoker during the first war, it had been his way of coping. He had tossed the last of them following the news of Voldemort's "death". Malcolm had learned to let hope fill the space they had once occupied. But the last light of the extinguishing cigarette at their feet indicated that the rapidity at which it was now evolving had begun to overtake hope's fullness.

"Malcolm I-"

"James Murray is the same age that I was when Ma died" He cut in, staring directly ahead of him into the night. As though he had not even heard her speak. James was the Murray's youngest child. His 12th birthday had been celebrated in the Gryffindor common room the weekend before the Holidays.

"And I'm the same age that da was-" He inhaled sharply and raised his head to the sky as he blinked rapidly

"What the hell did we do it for, Minerva? Christ, what the hell was it all for?"

The same feeling that had consumed her when she'd looked into Louise's eyes swelled within her again. And words failed Minerva for a moment because he was right. She wanted to tell him that they would beat him, that this would all be over soon. That they would be safe again. But she could not shake the mocking déjà vu that would lie behind those words. The sting of the memory of saying them the first time.

"I don't know Malcolm. I honestly don't know"

She moved to stand beside him and turned her head upward as well.

"Do you- do you think I should go over to them?" Malcolm croaked, before clearing his throat and steadying his voice before he spoke again. "They haven't got anyone else".

This was true. The Murray and Brown families had been decimated by the first war. No grandparents were left on either side for their children. Sophie had only one sister whom she had lost touch with and was now in America. Of the four Murray brother's John was the last left standing. Malcolm had been there as best he could for him then. However, tragedy would soon find him in need of support of his own. But John and Sophie had always had each other and following these tragedies then only each other. Every waking moment until this one.

"Take tonight Malcom. You can go to them tomorrow" his sister answered.

"When Ma died John was there, he was just a child and he was there whenever I needed him."

He smiled slightly as he continued. "He would take me fishing or make me sit and do homework with him. I didn't know it then but he kept me busy and made sure I was never alone. Because of that I managed"

His face fell again. "I owe his wife and children that now"

"But John did not lose his best friend the day our mother died". Minerva turned to look at him

"You will never understand the weight of what they feel or the way they will grieve for him. But you are allowed to grieve for him too. Different does not mean unimportant Malcolm"

The statement reeked of Hypocrisy as her mind flashed back to Albus. The two siblings then stood in silence side by side. All of sudden who was left standing there were the two frightened children that had found themselves without a mother all those years ago. Trying their best to rise to the new adult personas demanded of them. Even all these years later the cloaks still did not quite fit.

Look after yourselves and I'll see you soon!