Daybreak

'You don't have to do this now. You don't have to do this ever. You could give me the bag and I'll ritualistically burn all the horrible things for you.'

Selena realised this was the wrong thing to say when Rose turned wide, dark, tear-filled eyes on her. 'I'm not burning it -'

'I'm sorry.' Tears were how Rose coped. Selena could understand that. Tears and anger and hiding from everything and eventually an international rampage of vengeance were how she had coped. But being sardonic was how Selena now coped with Rose coping, and she had to remember it wasn't helpful.

It wasn't easy. Rose was somewhere raw and agonising, somewhere Selena knew too well, and the part of her which remained just as raw didn't want to help Rose, it wanted to curl up in the darkness with her. Instead, she sat down on the bed next to her friend and reached for the enchanted rucksack. 'I shouldn't joke. I know this is hard. All I'll tell you is that you can do this a day at a time. There is no schedule on when you need to do anything.'

'It's been a fortnight.' Rose stared at the bag that had somehow managed to dominate her entire bedroom. 'This is going to need doing eventually. It's not feeling like it's going to get easier. And I know it's there. It's like a shadow looming over me.'

'Okay.' Selena took her hand. 'Just know that you are allowed to feel whatever you want. If a toothbrush makes you burst into tears, then nobody is judging.'

Rose took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and nodded. Then she reached for the backpack.

An awful lot of what Selena would charitably call 'crap' had accumulated in the bag over the last couple of months. Bit by bit, everyone had tossed this bag or that load of clothes into Rose's magically enlarged rucksack, and not bothered to retrieve it. Spare socks, big coats, a hair straightener Selena had completely forgotten she'd brought. A lot had been lost in Kythos and some left behind in Venice, but when one had a bottomless bag, everyone found an excuse every once in a while to dump their belongings inside.

Especially Scorpius, who had been shameless at batting his eyelashes at his girlfriend and slipping in this thing or that he couldn't be bothered to carry.

Rose was right. It would all need sorting soon enough, and the knowledge that she had a bag where her dead lover's belongings lurked, waiting to lunge out and upset her was a prospect Selena could understand wanting to get dealt with as soon as possible. So they coped through socks, through dog-eared Quidditch magazines, and the first thing to make Rose falter wasn't anything of Scorpius' at all, but one of Albus' books.

'I can't believe he left,' said Selena through gritted teeth.

'I can. I can't tell you how many times I've woken up and wondered if maybe I should just run, too.'

'I understand that. I felt like that myself. But I realised that you take your pain with you. And he's not just hiding away from people who can help him, but he's hiding away from people he can help.'

Rose sighed. 'It's not just about Scorpius for him, though, is it? There's Lisa. Saida. Whoever the hell she was. He blames himself for trusting her.'

'We all trusted her.'

'Because Al told us to trust her, most of all. You didn't fully believe her.'

Selena shrugged. 'I thought she had secrets and I thought she was lying. I didn't think she was one of Thane's people infiltrating us. Especially not by the end. She killed Downing. She fought those spirits. She helped us escape. I can't even begin to understand that.'

'I know.' Rose's lips thinned. 'Which I think is why he can't cope with it, either. He fell for her, and she betrayed him, but we're also alive because of her several times over.' She met her gaze. 'You and I get the knowledge that the people we've lost loved us. Al's not got that surety.'

It was awfully empathetic and philosophical, Selena thought, for someone whose guts had been ripped out. Then Rose pulled out Scorpius' knitted green Weasley jumper and burst into tears, and everything was within expectations again.

'Oh, sweetie.' Selena scooted across the bed to wrap her arms around her, achingly aware of how their roles had reversed, and wishing she knew what made it better other than bleeding over days, weeks, months. Maybe even years. 'You're going to be okay.'

'I'm not,' Rose sobbed into her shoulder, clutching at her and the thick jumper alike. 'I was just a stupid, stupid, uptight little idiot before him. H-how do I go on…?'

A lump rose in Selena's throat as she recognised the sentiment. 'These men didn't make us. They saw who we are and they loved us for it. And maybe it brought out the best in us, but they'd want us to go on. Be strong. Be happy.' She knew it was the truth, but even as she spoke she knew it was a bit too soon for this sort of thing. Squaring one's shoulders and bearing the burdens came later. Right now, in the dark, there was only survival.

'I don't know how to do it.' Rose grabbed greedy fistfuls of the jumper, buried her face in it. 'School is in a few months and we'll go back and everything will be normal but we'll - but how are we supposed to…'

That was the million-galleon question Selena had been asking herself for five months. 'I don't know, Rosie. But I guess we'll face it together.'

They were up there another hour before Selena could see the exhaustion on Rose's face. Grief was tiring, and then grief could keep you awake all night, alone with the wolf howling in the dark. All you could do was sleep when you had the chance, so Selena let her sleep and hoped she didn't have the terrible dreams.

Not of death, not reliving the loss. Those weren't terrible dreams, because they were reality. The worst dreams were the ones where everything was well, where your loved ones lived and smiled and loved you back, because then you woke up and you were alone.

Selena left her anyway under a thick blanket, clutching the jumper because she didn't dare take it off her yet. Some day she'd have to let go, but not today. For now, it was survival. So she padded out of Rose's bedroom, down the stairs of the Old Rectory, and walked into the kitchen to find Matt and Hugo playing chess at the table, Hermione Granger at the kettle.

'Tea?' Rose's mother asked.

'Keep it coming.' Selena slid into a chair with a sigh. 'We got about halfway.'

'Is that good?' Hermione winced.

'It is what it is. It's not good, it's not bad. It's just part of getting better and she survived it. It'll need doing eventually, so all we can do is make sure she doesn't get broken by it.'

Matt moved a knight and looked over. 'Is she asleep?'

'For now.' Selena accepted the mug of tea, wrapped her hands around it and took a moment to enjoy the warmth. Then she looked up at Rose's mother, brow furrowed with the knowledge that this was going to be a long and painful road; at Rose's brother, his frown loaded with worry and naive hope it would be over soon. 'This doesn't stop, you know. There's no magical cure, there's no way to just turn the pain off. I don't think this is a pain which ever goes away.'

Hugo frowned at the chessboard, Hermione pursed her lips and Selena silently wished the woman knew less about her grief than she did. 'There'll be good days and bad and I'm sometimes not sure which is which,' Selena continued, and felt a surge of gratitude as Matt reached for her hand. 'There are three modes: curling up in a ball and hiding or crying, or both. Being outraged at the universe and anything in particular, and wanting to destroy it for being so cruel. And a grim, hyperactive dedication to be better, to keep going. That last one might sound ideal, and don't stop her if she bounces down one morning and decides she's going to paint the garden fence, but be prepared for her to possibly trash it afterwards or burst into tears.'

'And how long does this last?' asked Hugo when he looked up, brow furrowed.

'I'll tell you when it's stopped for me. Just… try to not feel useless. You might be, some days. Some days there'll be not a thing you can do. Any of us. When it hurts less, when the pain is less blinding, she will remember.'

Hugo tensed. 'We're not doing it so she's grateful -'

'No, but it's no fun standing by someone who doesn't notice you exist. You're allowed to feel the strain, too.'

Hermione nodded. 'Thank you. I know you're here because you're her friend, but I appreciate you taking the time for us, too.'

'You fought a war.' Selena shrugged. 'I don't think I'm saying anything new. But, we should get out of your hair.' She gave Matt a pointed look.

'Hm? Oh, yeah.' Matt got to his feet, and gave Hugo a wan smile. 'Don't you touch that board. We'll finish this game.'

'I'll win,' said Hugo with the calm, smug confidence of a Weasley-Granger blend.

Matt chuckled, then glanced to Selena. 'You mind if I just pop up? Say goodbye if she's not sleeping.'

'If she's sleeping,' Selena warned, 'you'll let her bloody rest.'

'I know what I'm doing,' he said, a little tense, and headed for the stairs.

Hugo took the chess board, mindful to not tip the pieces, and went to the living room, leaving Selena and Hermione Granger alone in the kitchen. Selena drained her tea to avoid having to break the silence, but it didn't take long before Hermione cleared her throat and said, 'How's your mother?'

Selena grimaced. 'Going berserk about potential threats which might undermine the IMC. I honestly think she'd arrest Matt's dad if she thought she could get away with it. It's crazy.'

'I can see her concern. People have to believe the government can and will do something, rather than believing independent individuals will get more success.' Hermione's brow furrowed. 'But we have to stick this out, together.'

'We do. Though do you mind if I say that right now I'd rather worry about my friends, and school, and stuff the normal seventeen year-old should?'

'Not at all.' She looked away. 'It's all you should have to worry about.'

'The world seems to have other ideas.' Selena heard Matt's footsteps on the stairs and, with relief, put her teacup down. 'We'll get out of your hair, though. Thanks, Ms Granger. See you soon.'

It wasn't everyday she and Matt popped over to check up on Rose. But it was happening most days since Albus had left, and so it was with the comfortable air born of habit that she and Matt let themselves out the back door, wandered into the garden towards where the wards ended so they could disapparate.

And, as was usual, took a little longer in the late June sunshine to walk together before they went their separate ways.

'She wasn't asleep yet,' said Matt, frowning at the hedgerows.

Selena nodded, but her mind wasn't there, and she gave him a piercing look. 'Where'd you get that ring?'

He looked at his hand. The silver ring on his right forefinger was so thick and chunky she didn't know how he'd thought he was getting away with it, and the Templar cross engraved on it made him even less subtle.

Boys.

'It's just a memento,' he said.

'Of the trip which got one of us killed? Good times.' She met his gaze, undaunted. She'd recognised de Sablé in his father's rescue team. Her mother had been venomous for days about what Gabriel Doyle was up to outside the reaches of the law and the IMC. She knew bullshit when she smelled it.

Matt shrugged. 'So, I know we were going to go to Pembroke tomorrow, but Rose mentioned she wanted some new books to read, so I was thinking I'd take her to Diagon Alley instead.'

Selena blinked. 'You think she'll be up for it?'

'If she's up for it, I didn't want to tell her I had different plans.'

It was a fair point, Selena knew, and yet an unsettled feeling began to creep into her gut. 'I suppose we can go to Pembroke any time.'

'Yeah,' said Matt. 'That's what I thought - I mean, if you want to come with us to the bookstore…'

Was that her idea, Matt? Or yours? It was a treacherous thought, but she couldn't shake it. So she just gave a wan smile instead. 'That's not exactly my scene. I might be the one to burst into tears through boredom while you two talk smart things that fly over my head.' It was her old tactic, the self-effacing dismissal of her own intellect. She knew damned well what she could achieve when she set her mind to it, if she was confident in herself. And, once upon a time, he would have reminded her of it.

Instead, Matt shrugged. 'It's an open invitation. And, yeah, we'll do Pembroke another day. But for now, Rose needs us.'

I don't need reminding of that. Selena gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and pulled out her wand. 'Yes, of course,' she said. 'You're a good friend to her.' And I, she thought as they swished their wands and disapparated to their separate homes and separate lives, can read the writing on the wall.

You could stand on a high point in Berlin, Albus thought, and when you looked down it was like someone had sliced the city in half. There was no more Wall, no more literal barrier cutting one side of the city off from the other, but the echoes of war and strife and oppression remained. One moment prosperity, then you turned a corner and were surrounded by crumbling walls, graffiti and an atmosphere that discouraged walking down an alleyway alone on a dark night.

It was a city of duality, a city still trying to understand what it meant to be complete. He couldn't begin to understand the challenges it faced, or how far the recovery was coming, but for the last week or so he had found the place so jarring as to be comforting.

But he'd had enough of waiting around. It was time to move on and, at last, time to do something.

So he was headed for the Bundesmagieto get his next Portkey, to keep going east. The quickest way there from the run-down hostel he'd stayed at saw him cutting through a busy Muggle shopping centre, but that suited him fine. Being in a crowd was comforting, and all the more comforting when it was a foreign crowd or a non-magical crowd - a crowd of people who didn't know him. He could be anonymous, just one more person with his burdens to bear and his daily challenges to face.

Not the tormented hero that British media seemed determined to paint him as. Albus Potter, who of course had led the Hogwarts Five to thwarting the Council of Thorns' latest escapade, only to lose his best friend in the process. Scorpius was being hailed as the dead hero, but that meant they needed someone to swarm around to be their living symbol. And now he was absent from the public eye, they could reach whatever conclusions about him they liked.

So long as he didn't have to live with it, he didn't care. He was getting away, far from anyone who could possibly recognise -

'Hello, Albus.'

And his spine locked as he recognised the voice. You're in public, he told himself, freezing his hand before he could go for his wand, or possibly turn and lunge for the speaker's throat. Muggles. People. It's deliberate, so don't be a fool. He stopped in the crowd, drew a slow, shaking breath, and turned around. The woman behind him had been sat on a bench but stood as he passed, and was lowering the hoodie that masked her face. He squared his shoulders. 'You.'

Eva Saida's dark gaze flickered across his face, like she was drinking in every detail of him. No doubt to read him, as she'd been so good at doing, then lie to and manipulate him, as she'd been so good at doing. 'It's been a while.'

'It's been a fortnight. Not exactly an age.'

'I was looking for you.'

'I don't want to be found by anyone right now. Least of all you.' His jaw clenched. 'You've got a lot of nerve, coming to see me.'

'Which is why I did it here. Neither of us is going to do anything in the middle of a crowded Muggle shopping centre. I didn't think you'd be happy to see me.'

And they were in the middle of a crowded Muggle shopping centre, but that didn't stop him from storming up to her, his face in hers, anger roiling and raging inside of him like he'd never felt before. 'I would be ripping you limb from limb if you weren't -'

She didn't flinch, lifted her face to look him in the eye, and spoke in a low, clear voice. 'I know.'

'You might have helped us get the Chalice, but that was for you,' he snarled, and while he usually hated using his size, all of a sudden it was very gratifying to be a tall, muscular man who could loom at this person who had wounded him so badly and know that he could, if he wished, reach out and hurt her. 'And you might have broken us out at the end, but don't think for a moment that means I owe you anything. That doesn't make up for betraying us, that doesn't make up for selling us out to the Council -'

'I didn't.'

He wasn't surprised that she was denying it. Why else would she be here, after all, if not to lie to him, to try to play him some more? But what did draw him up short was the low confidence in her voice, the ardent determination in her eyes. What did surprise him was that he believed her.

Of course you believe her. She's been so good at lying to you all along!

'I was there to spy on you, I admit it. But I did not tell the Council you were in Venice, Al -'

'Don't call me that,' he snarled, fists clenching.

Now she did flinch, except this time there was nothing he could find gratifying about it. 'I'm telling the truth. I didn't tell them to find us in Venice. This is why I'm here, Albus. Thane let you think it was me, but there's somebody else who let on that you were in Venice, somebody else who let on that you had the Chalice. No doubt he lied to you to cover that source.'

His lip curled. 'Why should I believe you?'

'What possible reason do I have to lie?'

'And if it's true.' His gaze raked across her face, desperate to find any small tell, any small hint of her deception, praying that after all she'd done to him, he could at least now identify the marks of her deception. He could see none, and that did nothing but spin his head more. 'If it's true that you didn't betray us, why are you telling me?'

She swallowed hard. 'The same reason I helped you break out. The same reason I killed Downing and fought those spirits on Cat Island.'

'That's not an answer.'

Her gaze flickered. 'You don't want to hear the answer.' That silenced him for a moment, and in the void stretching between them, the void that blocked out the life and sounds and hustle and bustle all around her, somehow she found the audacity to press on. 'I was meant to spy on you, I was meant to betray you. And then my own boss tried to kill me. And then the man I'd trusted my entire life made it clear that I was just an asset to him, and it became more and more apparent I was working for lunatics who want to see the world burn and build their own shrine from the ashes.'

She looked away, and his gut was churning too wildly, his heart thudding in his chest so hard he thought it might break through his ribcage, and he couldn't begin to find the words to answer before she continued. 'You were the first person in my life who didn't treat me like an asset or an inconvenience. The first person to treat me like a person. To believe me, to believe in me, to think I could be something else. It would be a lie for me to say I turned my back on the Council for you. But I turned my back on the Council because of you, because you made me believe I could be anything other than someone's weapon.'

He drew a raking breath, his throat like sandpaper. 'You're lying.'

'I'm not.' But she met his gaze again, and her eyes swam with regret. 'But this isn't what I came to tell you, because I know you won't believe me, can't believe me. I'm not in the Council any more; they know I betrayed them in Ager Sanguinis, activated and unleashed those golems. I'm going to need to keep on the move if I don't want to be grabbed by either side in this war, so don't imagine I came wandering through as secure a city as Berlin on a whim. I came here for a reason. I came here to warn you that you have a different spy in your midst.'

'Why are you warning me?'

Eva Saida swallowed. 'Because in my whole life, you have been the only thing that's real.'

And he believed her. Like a fool, he believed her, even though he knew she was lying, knew she was a creature of lies, and all that filled his thudding heart was a hatred that raged for himself as much as for her. His hand shot out, grabbed her arm, and again she flinched - that hurt, terrified flinch he'd once hated the idea of summoning.

Right now, hurting her like that felt a little bit like justice.

'You lied to me. You used me. You betrayed me. So far as I'm concerned, you are just as responsible for Scorpius' death as Thane or Raskoph or anyone else in the Council of Thorns.' His voice was a low, rasping hiss, and even though they were getting the odd look from Muggles passing by, nobody had intervened yet, and he didn't care. 'Everything you say is a lie, everything that was between us was a lie, and if I ever, ever see you again, I don't care if we meet in an empty room or the middle of a meeting of the Council itself, I will kill you. Do you understand?'

She met his gaze, the fear fading for a calm acceptance that only made him hate her more. 'I understand.'

But she said nothing else, just looked him in the eye and didn't try to pull away, and finally he couldn't stand it any more, because being so close to her brought back the memories which had once been so sweet but now made his stomach roil. He let her go with a harsh shove that knocked her into a passer-by, and then there was fuss and glares and muttering from the crowds. He didn't care; just hefted his pack, turned on his heel, and marched onward.

Away.

'Raskoph is moving against Acosta next,' said Prometheus Thane, leaning back on the overstuffed leather armchair and watching the face flickering in the green flames of the cosy study's fireplace. 'He'll probably supplant him and then seize Brazil's resources, perhaps try to spread his influence across Southern America. So that might take the major Council activities out of the worldwide sphere for a while.'

'That's a problem,' said the face in the flames. 'We need to keep this global. We need everyone to remember the danger. If the world is complacent, then the Council will fail.'

'Without Lethe, it's going to be a lot harder. We didn't need an army to keep people scared so long as Eridanos was striking settlements. It kept the Council of Thorns in everyone's mind. But Lethe was going to keep people scared, and give us an army.' It was perhaps playing into a stereotype that he had a glass of brandy in his hand as he sat in an armchair before a fire, but it was really good brandy, and after hiking across the world, Prometheus Thane knew he deserved the finer things in life. 'Do you want me to divert Raskoph?'

'No. No, we need him to stay powerful. He's one of the few with vision, with ambition. He learnt at the knee of Grindelwald, so to speak, and that is exactly the kind of man we need in the Council. Let him build up his influence. Acosta's use to us is at an end anyway.'

'Then we're going to need another threat.' Thane sipped on his brandy. 'Or people will start to forget.'

'Let me worry about that,' said the face in the flames. 'Have no doubt, I will make sure everyone remembers that the Council of Thorns is a threat that could bring the world to its knees. I have something else in mind for you.'

He arched an eyebrow. 'You have my attention.'

'You said that you had a theory on how we could recover from this setback.'

Now he almost choked on the brandy. 'That was a long shot. A long, and dangerous shot.'

'I have never known you, Mister Thane, to shirk from risk. I also know you do not voice theories idly. Can it be done?'

He set down the brandy, felt the liquid pooling in his gut, bringing its warmth ebbing across him to try to soothe his pains. It didn't work. It would take more than a drink to soothe his pains. 'I cannot promise anything,' he said at length. 'It'll be expensive, and it will take time. Months, years, possibly.'

'If it can be done, it is worth it.'

'And I've lost a lot of my people. Downing was useful. Saida - I don't know where she is, but I've lost her.' His jaw tightened, and he didn't know if the tension in his gut was from grief or anger. 'This would take the most brilliant minds, and how are we supposed to do this without Raskoph knowing?'

'I don't care if Raskoph knows. Raskoph will get what he wants, but even if he learns, you cannot allow him to take over. Do you understand? That is imperative.'

'Of course. But he would be the best way for me to assemble a team.'

The face in the flames sighed. 'I have already taken the liberty of finding you a project leader. Someone who is an absolute expert on the situation at hand, and someone whose interests have always lain with this matter. If you'd open your door, I invited them to join us.'

Thane's brow furrowed, but he reached for his wand and flicked it at the door to his study. He disliked the idea of his associates inviting whoever they liked into his family home, tucked away from prying eyes or law enforcement as it was, and at a great expense. But it wasn't as if he could voice such discontent, or as if they couldn't wipe him out with barely a thought if the notion occurred. He was much too interested in being too useful to the cause he believed in to let it occur to them.

It was just as well he'd put down his brandy, or he'd have dropped it as a short witch, her dark hair streaked grey at the temples, walked in, green-eyed and straight-backed and looking like she wasn't sure if she was about to be plunged into a pit of snakes. Under the circumstances, Thane couldn't blame her, and it took him a moment to find his voice. 'Nathalie Lockett.'

She gave him a level look which couldn't hide the distaste. 'Prometheus Thane.'

'It's good you two know each other,' said the face in the flames. 'I've found Ms Lockett to be a most useful associate this past year, and so I hope you can forge as equally close a bond.'

Thane looked Lockett up and down, brow furrowed. Then he gestured for the other chair. 'You understand what we need?'

Lockett walked, stiff-legged, to take a seat opposite him. 'Better than you do, I dare say.'

'You can do it?'

'I will do it.'

Thane reached for his brandy and had a sip. 'I didn't take you for an associate of the Council of Thorns.'

It wasn't Lockett who answered, but the face in the flames. 'I didn't get as far as I have, Mister Thane, by spilling my secrets needlessly. I do not require your trust. I do not require your approval. I need you to get the job done. However long it takes. However much money it costs. Else the entire purpose of the Council of Thorns will fall to ash, and I havecome too far to see it fail. Do you understand?'

'I will do it,' said Lockett again, in that same cold, firm voice.

Thane leaned back in the comfortable armchair, swirled his brandy in his glass, and allowed himself a slow smile. 'More fool I,' he mused. 'I thought it was all over.'

The End

For Now

A/N: And that, my friends, is that! The end of Starfall, a little over a year's work, the longest single piece of fanfiction I've ever written! It's been a hard year, a bloody productive year, and while looking back there are things I would shift or alter about the story, I'm overall rather pleased with it, rather proud of it. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, different to Ignite as it has been, and I hope that you will stick with me in the future!

Yes, yes, the future. The third and final part of the Stygian Trilogy is in the works. Titled 'Oblivion' it will pick up over two years after Starfall, and I'm a chunk in already, first draft at least. I anticipate it will be shorter than Starfall, because most bloody things in this world are shorter than Starfall, but it will, I hope, answer all of your questions and bring this tale to a satisfying conclusion.

I know a lot of you have had problems with Scorpius' death, and I don't want to get too far into discussing it because I do believe that a writer's work should stand on its own two feet. If I haven't pulled this event off dramatically, then I shouldn't be defending it in my author's notes; I shouldn't need to. So, everything I would like to say to those of you who have doubts is summarised neatly in the words of a writer whose work I enjoy a great deal. Many of you will not have heard of Warren Ellis, but I will borrow from his work 'Transmetropolitan':

'Trust the fuckhead.'

I'll see you soon. Slide out.