Chapter 45

                                    

                                          
Dear Carmen,
I'm sorry that I couldn't be your husband. I think we might've been happy together.
Willa wouldn't have really liked it if we got married, but I think she'd get over it eventually. I can't imagine a world where she didn't forgive you for the things that she disagreed with. That's probably what it means to love somebody. After you told me about the two of you, I found myself slightly envious. Not because I wanted to be with either of you like that, we've discussed that enough for you to know that's not the case. But the way that you could argue so passionately over breakfast and have it forgotten by dinnertime. There's never any anxiety there, because you know each other inside out, and I'd have killed to have that with somebody. Well, that's not quite true. I've gotten a little too close to that for comfort. But I'd have liked it. You would have too, even if you would have made fun of me for it. 
I think that you and Willa are the only people who'll really miss me for who I really was. It's strange to think about people mourning you. I think you'd like it, imagining the drama surrounding your funeral. It'd be the event of the century, a tragic passing of true beauty. People weeping and throwing themselves onto your coffin in protest. I hope that you don't waste too many tears on me. I hope that you'll grow really old and that all of your beauty will waste away so you'll have to find something more interesting to worry about. Willa will still be by your side, holding your wrinkled hand, and maybe you'll both think of me and smile.
Mostly, I hope that you'll be happy, no matter what you do. 
With love and eternally yours,
Reggie
P.S: Do me a favour and don't marry Selwyn? You can do better.
The cliff that Kreacher apparated them both to was high. As Regulus leaned over the edge and peered down at the water below, the sheer height of it had him dizzy. He closed his eyes, hoping that his balance would return to him if he simply didn't look. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he focused on the places that his feet met the earth. The ground was rocky and uneven, and Regulus worried with each step that he would fall to his death before he got the chance to complete his mission.
Somewhere along the coast, Kreacher's hand found his. It was the first time in years that he had held hands with the elf, and under normal circumstances he knew that Kreacher wouldn't have stood for it. Even when he was small, the elf would complain whenever his chubby little hands clung to his own. Back then, Regulus had been no taller than Kreacher, and he looked up to him as he did even after he outgrew the elf. Now his hand was like a vice, holding him tight during the last moments of daylight when words weren't enough to buoy him. 
Down on the sand, the tide was out far enough that they could walk without getting their feet wet. Kreacher had been watching the area since his visit with Voldemort to work out the best time for them to approach. The sand was compacted by the water, with hard ridges where the last of the waves had retreated out to sea. After a while, it began to hurt his feet and Regulus quickly learned that if he simply followed the twists where water had passed, flowing with the peaks of the sand, it wasn't so bad. Because of this fact, he walked in a swerving and ever-turning line, the way he had as a child on seaside holidays with Sirius. Above his head, their only light source came from muggle lamp posts every few dozen feet. They stopped beneath one so that Regulus could catch his breath, and as he looked up at it, he noticed that the glass glittered, worn away by the sand over many years of neglect. It was pretty, and he was sure that if Carmen was with him, she'd have liked it. Willa on the other hand, would have pointed out the imperfection and fragility, rather than appreciated the aesthetic appeal.