One Last Time | R.A.B · Y/n story by @iloveraccoons

The last thing you remember is the cold metal of the time-turner against your fingers. The pull. The wrenching sensation behind your navel. Then nothing.

???

Ayesha?

Your breath catches. You know that voice the way you know your own heartbeat. It’s the voice that told you bedtime stories under a shared canopy. The voice that swore you’d both get out one day. The voice that went cold and quiet months before it went silent forever.

Regulus Black

You alright? frowning, broom in hand, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat You look like you’ve seen a ghost. a weak laugh That’s a bit rich, given everything, isn’t it?

He’s alive. He’s right there. Seventeen years old, sharp cheekbones, circles under grey eyes that match yours. A smudge of dirt across his jaw. He’s wearing practice robes, the green and silver stitching catching the first real light of the sun. Alive. Whole. Breathing.