"No," he says, surprised by the steady firmness of his own voice — He, Sirius Black, who has never been the steady one in nearly any situation in the whole of his life. "I'm not going to stand on the fucking beach and watch you drown yourself."

She's flailing, all emotion, and he shifts his arms up to hook under her armpits, hands clasped against her slender, heaving shoulders. It doesn't keep her from smacking him as she tries to get free, but it's a more solid hold, lets him lever back more easily even as her feet slide and flail and kick bruises into his legs.

"Rose, stop— Fucking stop! It's done. It's done."