Time had been allocated to Elijah, time for him to attend the funeral and time for him to spend time grieving with his family. He hadn’t so much as cried yet. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, though. Everyone was coming out of the woodwork because Marina was dead. He couldn’t remember some of the relatives that had gathered in Sofia. They’d descended upon the house abruptly without warning. Elijah had returned home from Fauve and Thierry’s school, having gone to pick them up, only to find that his relatives had arrived. Even people that he didn’t know had made it their business to be there.
Fauve and Thierry were as wary as he was. Their rooms had been taken over by other people and the three of them were in Elijah’s bed. He hadn’t slept since he’d been at home, though. Harry had tried to in vain. Viktor had suggested a potion. Lis had even punched him. Nothing worked and instead he stayed up during the nights, playing poker with Euan, Finn, Georgio, Gustav and Jakob. Exhaustion was taking its sweet time to overpower his body, too. Harry had decided that it was Elijah’s way of grieving. Elijah didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say. Everyone else was crying or comforting someone else. He felt like the odd one out, the one that couldn’t bring himself to do or say anything.
Excess alcohol had finally gotten the better of Elijah, though. So on the day of the funeral he woke up on the couch in one of the many sitting rooms in the manor with a splitting headache and Gustav asleep on his chest. Elijah was quick to tip his cousin onto the floor. He left the room and headed for the nearest bathroom. He opened the first cupboard he came to and put his hands straight on a hangover potion. Elijah uncorked it and drank it down. The lack of food, too much alcohol and far too much nicotine caught up with Elijah then and it resulted in him throwing up whatever was actually in his stomach.
It was in that particular bathroom that Harry found him.
The dark-haired Harrow gathered his cousin up into his arms and carried him upstairs. Fauve and Thierry were thankfully already up and about. They were eating breakfast to Harry’s knowledge and from there they’d play in the garden with the twins who hadn’t even bothered to dye their hair back to black for the affair. No, they were still green and pink and nothing Harry said would get them to change it back. Harry was just glad Elijah hadn’t seen them yet. Whatever Elijah would do to them would be deserved. Harry just hoped they would repent at the last minute. There were a lot of people that cared about Marina under the facade of hating her. Elijah was one of them. He and his sister were now without a mother. Harry didn’t know what he could do that would make Elijah feel better. Nothing seemed to be working.
The bedroom that was usually so clean looked as if a bomb hit it. The children had been clean for the most part; the House Elves had yet to pick up the dirty clothes though. The mess was all Elijah’s. It looked as if he’d been searching for something in the middle of the night – heaven knows what. Harry set Elijah down on the bed and cut off the young man’s shirt with a severing spell. A chain fell into the crease between his arm and torso. The gold glint piqued Harry’s interest and he loomed over Elijah, wondering how best to take it off of him. In the end, Harry decided to sit down and look at it.
It was a locket, he deduced as he brought it into his palm. He flicked the clasp back and opened it up. Foreign light of all colours expanded from inside the locket and bathed the room in its glow. Then, sound came; laughter, familiar voices. Then pictures danced around Harry. A woman wearing a baby pink dress was dancing around in a meadow, a man that looked uncannily like Elijah hot on her heels. Her dark hair was dancing behind her and her baby pink headband flew off of her head as she ran, her eyes alight with joy, love and excitement. Then he caught her. He tackled her to the ground and they rolled over a few times before he found himself on his back with her laid upon his chest. She leaned down and Harry watched as they shared a kiss.
But just as the image began to change, it disappeared. The locket was torn from Harry’s hand and he looked down to see Elijah inching across the bed, trying to put space between them. Harry turned and crawled onto the bed, catching Elijah by the ankle. He curled his fingers around the boy’s ankle and pulled him back to him. Elijah began to fuss but came to Harry willingly enough. He didn’t complain as Harry pulled him up into a half-sitting, half-kneeling position. He just allowed it to happen. He let Harry take him into his arms. He focused on the hands that were warming his frozen body.
Elijah felt Harry draw a sheet around him and he gripped the elder boy’s shirt. “I heard her laugh,” he whispered against Harry’s chest. “There were so many times that I heard that laugh. I never knew who it belonged to. I don’t know what I was looking for the night gone but I found this and it seemed right, Harry. It seemed right. I watched some of it and I knew who it was. I knew exactly who it was. But it didn’t make sense did it? She never wore pink, she never smiled...she never laughed. Yet I heard her. I dreamed of her so often when I did not have nightmares of Alice. “I don’t understand who she was. She was my mother. That screaming banshee wasn’t but that woman was. That beautiful, beautiful woman that looks so very much like Cecilia. Or rather, Cecilia looks like her. I would draw her but I do not feel I could do her justice.” Elijah lifted his head and his tear-sodden eyes searched Harry’s. “I don’t know who I am anymore, Harry. If I don’t understand her then how can I understand myself? My own mother is a complete stranger to me now...”
Harry didn’t say anything, he just let Elijah talk. As the boy spoke, Harry moved them slowly down onto the bed. When Elijah was lying down, Harry lowered himself down beside his cousin. Elijah fell silent and curled into Harry. Harry accepted him into his arms once more and felt Elijah’s hand settle over his heart. The boy had always described Harry’s heartbeat as the melody that belonged to him; the song that was written especially for him. Harry always believed that if it was a comfort to Elijah then so be it. He’d never quite understand how it worked but he knew why. His words with regards to the heartbeat were always brief and were often simply: “My Song.” It was Elijah’s song because it was these times when he beat for no one else; when it beat solely for him.
“I love you, doe eyes,” Harry murmured, his fingers cutting through Elijah’s long hair. The next words were those that Harry hadn’t heard since Mira’s funeral. He’d never had the request from Elijah since then. “Don’t leave me, Harry...” were his words from so long ago and they were the words he spoke now. Harry swallowed, hard. The words struck a cord with him and he tightened his hold on Elijah. “I’m not going anywhere, beauty,” Harry whispered the words he’d spoken so long ago. “I promise you that. I won’t leave unless you want me to.” Elijah nodded against Harry’s chest and sniffled, his hand reaching out for Harry’s. Harry laced his fingers with Elijah’s and kissed the young man’s hair. “I promise you,” he whispered in his ear. “That Zeus himself will have to strike me down to take me from you.”