Swept Under

                                    

                                          
TW: 
Grief
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   The letter came the next day from Kreacher. 
Short and to the point. 
Dear Fawn Briggs, 
   Master Regulus has been killed by the Dark Lord. He ordered Kreacher to write Fawn Briggs if this happened. 
- Kreacher, House Elf of the most ancient and noble House of Black. 
   Sirius crumbled. Remus couldn't clean up the crumbs. Sobs shook the flat. The hardwood flooring became a puddle, its reflection; grief. 
   Outside the sun shone through a light sprinkle. A rainbow bowed down; a promise that no one remembered. 
   This was destined to happen. Regulus had to die for the cause. That was his life's purpose; to die. 
   Fawn didn't speak. She didn't comfort Sirius. There were no rivers from the crevices that had flooded too early and now left a drought of defeat. 
   Fawn left. She ran because eventually fight no longer wins over flight. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn; she chose flight. She had fought for too long and yet it felt like there was no progress. The Veil had chosen the wrong girl. 
   Without Regulus the world was empty. 
   There was a rainbow in the sky but all that was seen was shades of grey. The air was warm from sunlight and the sprinkling drops showered to bring relief. 
   Fawn only felt the chilled pinpricks and the way the water slid down her arms and soaked her clothes, sticking them to her skin. The way bangs plastered to her forehead and poked at her irises. 
   A younger, more innocent version of Fawn Briggs would have held out her arms and spun in circles, laughing loudly as she tried to drink the rain-water, making wishes on the prism of colors that arched over her. 
   The sixteen year-old Fawn would have spent her time jumping in puddles, looking for four-leaf clovers and snorting at her own childness. 
   A younger Fawn wouldn't have felt the flood that came before the rainbow, before the promise. She wouldn't have felt herself swept under the waves, the suffocation of drowning, of lungs bursting. 
  She'd be there to see the olive branch and the dove that brought peace and hope. 
   But all she knew was that she was doomed and she didn't have Regulus to be doomed with her anymore. 
   So, instead of dancing or appreciating the colors, Fawn threw her head back and let out the loudest, most guttural scream she could muster. Her heart shattered, her stomach ached and her throat burned. 
   Was this it? Had she failed? 
   She couldn't possibly obtain the horcruxes on her own. Regulus had been her inside voice and she'd lost that. 
   A year and half. Eighteen months. 
   She couldn't save them. Lily and James were doomed. There was no spy this time but they were still doomed nonetheless. Voldemort would stop at nothing to win. Regulus wouldn't be the last one of them to face green. 
  Fawn didn't know what to do and this time, there was no one to turn to for answers. 
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AN
Shorter chapter but I don't think chapters need to be a certain length to make an impact. 
Just a reminder, there are five stages of grief: Anger, Depression, Bargaining, Denial & Acceptance. Everyone deals with grief differently and everyone goes through the stage in different orders. Some stages are skipped or very short, other are long. I lost someone when I was thirteen and for me, Depression and Anger lasted the longest. You can return/ repeat stages. There is no correct "formula" for grieving. There is no time frame. Sirius is handling grief with depression first, Fawn is shockingly starting with acceptance  (yes that can happen). (And Depression obviously) 
  Anyway, all that to say, everyone experiences thing differently. 
Also, I graduate in 2 weeks!