Chapter 30 – Bethany

Harry woke to the soft click of his bedroom door unlatching. He squinted through the groggy haze of waking from a deep, entrancing slumber, as light flooded his eyes and silhouetted a petite, feminine form in his doorway. His sister's footsteps padded softly into his room, extending her shadow across his face momentarily before she closed the door behind her all together and plunged the room back into its previous state of darkness.

"What –" Harry began in a murmured slur, as his sister closed the distance between his door and his bed.

"Shut up," Bethany cut him off sharply, yet not unkindly. Upon reaching his bed, she caught the edge of his blankets that he was in the process of pushing off of him and lifted them instead. "Budge over, yeah?"

Harry moved over to allow her to lie down next to him, scooting his body across his sheets with a lethargic push of his elbow against his mattress. Like they had when they were little and one of them had been frighten by a nightmare or a storm rattling their windowpanes in the middle of the night and sought out the other instead of their parents, Bethany cuddled into his side and he wrapped his arms around her with familiarity, tucking the blankets around them in the process. Silence clung to the air, and as the minutes dragged on with only the rise and fall of their chests to halt the stillness they shared, Harry became aware of salty tears finding their way onto the skin just below his collar bone, where his sister's head pressed to his chest.

Harry kissed the top of Bethany's hair softly. "Beth–"

"Shut up," Bethany said in the same sharp tone that she had used before, her soundless tears continuing to fall freely. "I don't want you to lie to me, so just … just don't say anything … okay?"

Feeling out of his depth, Harry kissed her hair a second time, giving his silent ascent. He had intended to talk to his sister upon his return home, but this wasn't how he had intended there conversation to go, let alone how he had intended to go about initiating the conversation. The thought that she'd come to him, before he went to her, hadn't even crossed his mind with how mad she had seemed to be at him, their father, and Sirius in the few days prior to his leaving for Egypt.

"After you left on Monday," Bethany spoke finally, after several more minutes of silence. Her voice was soft and a touch shaky. She took a steadying breath, as if instilling herself with strength to say what she wanted to say. "After you left on Monday," she began again, "Mum - she came up here and cried for hours. Dad stayed with her for a while, but then he left too – said he had something to take care of and just left, like – like Mum crying was less important than whatever it was he went to do."

Harry shut his eyes, grimacing with the internal pain and remorse that his sister's words and silent tears evoked within him. He really needed to talk to his mother as well, he knew. The way she had looked at him, when he had left on Monday, had left him unsettled. He'd gotten used to the way his father had come to regard him with a measure of nonrecognition, but to see the same from his mother was something entirely new for him. Yet, it hadn't been just the lack of recognition in her eyes that had left him feeling hollow and less of himself, less than her son, but rather the fear that he had seen attached to the unfamiliarity she had regarded him with – fear of him, open and blatant. She had made no effort to mask her fear or the way she had seemed to see him as a stranger, even after it was clear to the both of them that he had noticed. Their farewell had been stiff with her pulling a way from him.

"I'm –" Harry began, not entirely sure what he could say. He had left on Monday hurt and guilty, completed his mission in a detached mind state, and now, only a few hours after returning home, had his sister crying in his arms and confirming that the strain between him and his mother (which they had been juggling for the last few weeks) had become too much, that he – who he truly was, what she suspected him capable of and willing to do – was something she couldn't handle or condone.

"Shut up," Bethany snapped at him this time, her arms tightening around him. "I don't care. I don't care what Dad was doing. I don't care that he was doing it for you, whatever it was. You know what I do care about?" she asked heatedly, her body growing tenser and tenser and her magic acid where her and Harry's skin touched, charged with her pent up rage. "I care that Mum's been crying! I care that Dad didn't come home until the next afternoon and merely said he was out with Sirius, acting as if his absence was no big deal, as if making us worry and wonder where he was or if he was all right is okay, like … like a complete ass, only to do a repeat last night, making Mum go to that stupid meeting thing alone without him or … you!"

Bethany pushed herself up and maneuvered herself so that her face hovered above her brother's closed off face and the heel of her right palm dug into his flesh with her fingers clawing at the skin above his heart. Even in the dark, Harry could make out the fierce look her face, as well as the stray tears that continued to cut a wet path from the corner of her eyes down her cheeks to trickle off her jaw. She drew back her hand just enough to jabbed her index finger roughly into his chest.

"You!" Bethany growled at Harry with the bravery and uncaring of her age and taking for granted the closeness of their relationship with no regard for his position as her lord or the lethal magic that she knew he was capable of, after what she witnessed of him at Neville's Birthday Bash. "This is all your fault. You! You selfish," she drew back her finger only to jab Harry again, "lying," another jab, "arse!" She didn't jab her brother this time. Harry could see the attack in her eyes and the pull of her muscles beneath her flesh, but did nothing to stop his sister's hand from connecting with his face in a stinging slap.

Harry held his sister's fiery gaze, feeling the stinging in his cheek, as well as a touch of pride at his sister's hitting capabilities. It had been a good, solid hit and the print of her hand wouldn't fade right off.

"Don't you care! Even a little?" she yelled, after getting over the momentary shock she had plainly felt herself at her hand connecting with her brother's unmoved face. She bared her teeth at him and drew her hand back once more, as if to hit him again. "Mum's crying! Dad's acting like an arse! Remus is being a twit!" Her drawn back hand curled into a white knuckled fist, which Harry gently and silently reached up and corrected almost seemingly without her notice, having no desire for her to break her thumb should she attempt to hit him again. "And Sirius!" she continued angrily, her fist balling tighter and shaking of his machination. "Sirius is being an even bigger arse than to Mayra than Dad is being to Mum! You! YOU!" She let out a great sob, her fist dropping down to land harmlessly against his chest and her body shaking with raw emotion. "H-how can you j-just … just leave and n-not say anything about wh-where you're going or-r when you'll be back? H-how can you make M-Mum cry and order Dad to-to … a-and … What's ha-happened to you? Harry ..."

The pleading, desperate look that came into his sister's eyes, as she whispered his name was like a knife to his heart. Harry pulled her to him, as she dissolved into uncontrollable sobs, tucking her tight against his chest. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but her pain was his pain at the moment. Gut churning guilt racked him and he swallowed hard, as his father's words spoken on the evening of his birthday came back to him. I won't stop him, he vowed to himself, while hoping beyond hope that his father would keep the promise he'd given him, as well as hoping that things would never come to such an extreme. Yet, he couldn't help but recognize that he had already begun to lose sight of his purpose – of why he was fighting at all – the familiarity of war calling to him like a siren's song, catapulting him into an attack and react mindset with tunnel vision that only saw his path to victory and didn't account for the fact that he just might have a future in this world after the war. No, he needed to be a son, a brother, and a godson, as well as a wise and virtuous leader to those under his protection, a fearless warrior of the innocent, and a downright ruthless killer when facing the Enemy. He couldn't lose sight of that.

Harry shut his eyes, as he made a half-hearted effort at occluding against what he knew in his heart: if he couldn't find a balance between his responsibilities soon, there would be no choice between being what his family and his people deserved and what would keep his family and district safe and see not only those directly under his protection, but the entirety of Britain through the war. Whatever consequences would come for him in the end, he would just have to accept and submit to knowing that he'd done what he had to do, for there was no price he was not willing to pay, as long as his family lived to see better days and he gave his all to those whose safety he was responsible for. He knew it and his father knew it, truly understood just how far he would go and what he'd give up, something he hadn't desired to hide from his father. The man's warning the other night had been clear, expected after what he'd done to Snape. I won't stop him, he vowed a second time. He had no desire to replace one monster with another, yet once he gave himself over to the darker part of himself that he kept at bay by strength of will derived from his love for his family and a firm set of moral principles that he'd yet to compromise on – whether he gave himself over to it willingly or not – he would lose himself.

So be it, if I must.

"I hate you," Bethany whispered between her sobs, her hands fisting against her brother's chest, but unable to strike him with his hold so tight around her. "I hate you s-so much."

Still, even as she spoke the words, Harry felt her burrow against him, as if she never wanted to lose the contact.

"I'm sorry," Harry breathed against her ear with utmost sincerity, simply holding her, as she cried, while apologizing for hurting her, for hurting their mother, hurting their family, and apologizing for what felt inevitable. The odds were staking against them much too fast. "I'm so sorry, Bethy. By the gods, I'm sorry."

AN: All right, folks, so this is a spontaneous chapter. I hadn't intended to write it. In fact, this chapter was supposed to be about Harry meeting with Mr. Earnshaw and making plans to take assessment of his family estate in Derbyshire. I saw this scene while attempting to open the chapter and it just wouldn't leave me. Sorry for it being so short and the long break between chapters, but the holidays are here, meaning I've engagements in real life that put a wrench in my writing. Updates will be uncertain in the coming month, but hopefully by January I'll be able to update at a bit more of a regular pace once more. For my fellow Americans, hope you all had a Happy Thanksgiving yesterday.