Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The butterfly effect: The phenomenon that a small alteration in the state of a dynamical system will cause subsequent states to differ greatly from the states that would have followed without the alteration.

In this instance, the small alteration was a careless time traveller who spun his time turner just a few spins too far and ended up at King’s Cross station on September 1st, 1976.

“Oh shit,” was his relatively understandable response to such a blunder before fiddling with his trinket to move ahead to his destination. He was there for less than a minute.

But it changed everything.

Little did he realise he had stood in the path of one Euphemia Potter. Her husband and sons had already entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They were all energetic and antsy; telling them to go ahead was perhaps the only moment of reprieve she’d get that morning. She loved their liveliness: their jokes, and pranks, and the howls of laughter that filled her home with such joy. But she understood from experience that expecting them to stay still in one area, particularly together, particularly when even more excited than usual, would not only be a unique sort of torture to the boys but could also result in disastrous consequences.

So, while she ducked into the bathroom, she waved them ahead with the promise to meet them there.

A sudden figure in a large trench coat stood in her path—she hadn’t heard the crack of Apparition, but she was certain he hadn’t been there a moment ago. Regardless, she simply moved to the left to walk around him, as one does.

She hadn’t noticed, however, the young boy who was walking hurriedly towards the platform just behind her. Her sudden change in direction caused him to bump into her with a jolt.

And this was where everything began to change.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, easily finding her footing again. The stranger had grabbed her elbow almost immediately, his other gloved hand steadying her by the shoulder.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he said quickly, his voice posh and well-controlled. A glance at his face led to immediate recognition of the young man. His black hair, although slightly shorter and curlier than his older brother’s, was a dead giveaway, as well as those silver eyes that only belonged to the Blacks.

Without a doubt, it was Regulus. She hadn’t met Sirius’ younger brother before, only heard of him through stories and certain reassurances of his well-being. She didn’t feel right, having one brother in her house, safe, and knowing that there was still another child that was left behind.

"But Regulus will be fine," Sirius had assured.

"Regulus is like them," James had stated.

"They never really hurt us anyway," Sirius had argued with finality. "I’m just… too different. He never even fought with them."

And if he was to be believed, they hadn’t. Not physically, at least. Not until the day that Sirius had finally had enough and run away. But Sirius was a child himself; he didn’t fully understand still the particulars of his abuse. He didn’t even believe he was abused—not until his mother had snapped and cast an Unforgivable at him, at least.

She and Monty were still trying to make him understand that everything that came before that moment was unjustified treatment as well.

"It would just make things worse unless he wanted to leave," Monty’s words of wisdom came later that night when they were alone, and she fully expressed her worries. And so she let it go. If the boy was as into the Dark Arts as his parents, then he wouldn’t see her involvement as anything but an annoyance.

Maybe Sirius was right. He only fought with his mother since he refused to participate in their bigotry. Euphemia didn’t agree with the values being taught, of course, but Walburga and Orion could easily say the same about the Potters. They likely did, as a matter of fact.

Looking at his face now, her heart wrenched as she realised how mistaken they must’ve been.

Call it a mother’s instinct, but there was something wrong with Regulus.

He was shorter than his brother—smaller in every way, actually. His frame was thin and lithe, and even under layers of cloaks, she could see how his shoulders jutted out sharply. His eyes didn’t twinkle the way Sirius’ did. No, they were cold and flat and protected beneath layers and layers of masks. His forehead was furrowed, making a stress line between his dark eyebrows. His jaw was clenched too tight; his whole body was held too tightly, she realised, as he pulled away from her taut like a cocked bow.

He looked distraught for a moment, unsure of what to do. He appeared to be alone, which wasn’t surprising. Walburga and Orion were the type of Purebloods and rich that would rather pay for wet nurses and tutors than raise their children themselves. She'd never seen them at Kings Cross before. 

Another beat passed by, and she made the decision for him. 

“Regulus, right? You look so much like your brother,” she said, hating the way he flinched at the reference like it caused him physical pain. “I’m Euphemia Potter. James’ mother.”

“I don’t have a brother,” he said flatly after a moment. He wet his lips with a flash of pink, glancing ahead toward the platform entrance as if calculating his escape. The blankness of his eyes made her want to scream: What happened to you? What have they done?

Sadness saturated her very being at his words. “I don’t think you really believe that, do you?”

He looked back at her, face uncertain. “Doesn’t matter what I believe,” he said after another moment’s hesitation. Each word he said was carefully considered before he let it loose to the world.

The Blacks were notoriously self-assured, many of them exuberantly narcissistic. Sirius himself was confident to almost a fault. Regulus gave the illusion of confidence, but his hesitation spoke volumes.

He was only fifteen, she was pretty sure. Just a boy.

Too young to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“How was your summer?” she conversed on naturally, stomach twisting as the boy seemed to close in on himself as the conversation carried on. Are you okay? she bit her tongue to keep from asking.

He nodded thoughtfully, not meeting her eye. “It was pleasant,” he said, voice not betraying an ounce of emotion. “And yourself?”

She smiled at his question, but it was forced. She knew he was only being polite. “It was good—it’s always a joy having the boys back home.”

He nodded a moment longer, and she prepared herself for his departure. His face twitched momentarily, however, his shoulders pulling back as he resolved whatever thoughts he’d been battling.

“Is Sirius okay, then?” he asked, his voice still perfectly flat.

Her heart soared. There, it sang, there was the proof that he wasn’t a lost cause.

“He was worried about you,” she said evasively. And he was. He never said it, but his resolution not to talk about his little brother revealed just as much, if not more, than if he had.

Regulus didn’t react at all. Perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Well, my apologies again, Mrs. Potter. Have a good day,” he said cordially before turning on his heel and disappearing through the old stone wall. By the time she walked through, he was out of sight.

“Mum!” James’ voice cut through the crowd, waving at her from a group formed to the right. She easily recognised Remus and Peter standing with them, as well as Peter’s parents, Daphne and Mattheo.

Before the train boarded, she pulled her son to the side.

“James,” she said seriously. He leaned towards her, concern etched on his face. Content the importance of her request would be understood, she continued, “I want you to look after Regulus at school.”

“What?” he questioned, confusion evident. “He hates me. And he’s a Slytherin! He’d hex me before he’d let me near him.”

“I’m worried,” she said softly, hoping he’d understand. “Sometimes it’s important to help, even if someone doesn’t ask for it.” Or don’t even realise they need it. That they deserve it. “He deserves love as much as Sirius does.”

His son, still a boy but nearly a man, just nodded. He didn’t argue any further. He never did with her. His features softened as he frowned at her, concern still obvious.

“Okay, Mum. I’ll try.”

And that’s what changed everything.

Chapter Text

King’s Cross was overstimulating. 

It was too noisy—people yelling and laughing and screaming all around as if it were a circus and not a train station. And that wasn’t even including the trains themselves: the sharp sounds of metal grinding on metal, the whoosh of steam, the ear-splitting howl of the train horns. It all made him wince and want to duck out the nearest door. Bodies brushed against him and pushed into his space with rushed carelessness, and the air was always dank with moisture and something foul, akin to must. 

Regulus hadn’t liked it the first time he’d been here, chasing Sirius’ excited frame as he darted through the crowd, his heart pounding in fear as he desperately tried to keep up, and he still couldn’t find any fondness for it today. It was the first time he’d arrived alone, and while Sirius usually hadn’t stayed with him for any substantial length of time, it cast the day in a cold-toned light. 

Being second-born in a Pureblood family meant he was barely noticed and rarely spoken to growing up. It was the proper role for him, he'd thought, since he didn't do well with socialising. It was the hand that he was dealt in life, and he never expected anything more from it. It was just the way things were—until this summer, of course, when he became Heir. It was rather disconcerting, honestly, having gone from being invisible to the centre of attention in one fell swoop of his brother.

But he wasn’t thinking about that.

Before he asked Kreacher to take him to the station, he had carefully pushed away his general malaise from the summer. Regulus compartmentalised well when he needed to, and today was one of those days. Shoving his emotions into the depths of his mind, he entered the first carriage of the Hogwarts Express, where the Prefects were designated to meet, finding a spot to stand by the exit. 

The Prefect pin felt heavy and foreign on his breast. The badge wasn't a symbol of pride to him, it was just another reminder that he was an impostor. 

Regulus’ heart thrummed insistently in his chest, his lungs tight. This was the last thing that he wanted to be doing, but if he had not made Prefect, his parents would've had something to say about it. Having to talk with people, disciplining misbehaving students, and helping wide-eyed first years was more of a nightmare than a dream to him. He didn’t like to talk; he didn’t like people, in general. 

He hated to upset his parents even more, however. So here he was. He tucked his trembling hands into his pockets, forcing an image of composure. 

The room was already filled with students, gleaming badges on each of their chests. Scanning the group, he found his Prefect partner easily: Celeste Delacour. 

The Delacours were a Pureblood family originally from France. Mother had dragged Sirius to a few dinner parties there over the years in light of a potential betrothal to Celeste. Sirius had stamped that idea out just a couple of months ago when he called it off, however, with a heartfelt declaration against any political marriages.   

Regulus hadn’t realised right away that it was the tipping point. Mother and Sirius had started yelling at each other the summer after his first year at Hogwarts, and had never stopped. He’d thought it was the same as it always was, right up until the crystal clear moment that it was not.

"CRUCIO!"

It’d been two months since he’d seen his brother now. 

A part of him had known, maybe, that it was going to end up this way. Sirius felt too big to be trapped in Grimmauld Place—eventually, something had to give. He’d just never considered what it would mean for him when it happened. 

Celeste met his eyes across the room and sneered. 

Still upset about the rejection, it seemed.

“Good morning, Prefects,” a loud voice called out over the monotonous murmurs of students, silencing them effectively. “My name’s Frank Longbottom, and I’ll be your Head Boy for the year. Gryffindor. Rebecca Garett is your Head Girl, Ravenclaw. For most of you, this is a familiar role. For our new fifth-year Prefects joining us, I welcome you.”

Longbottom went on to discuss their roles and expectations for the new year. Regulus found himself glancing around the room as he rambled on. He wasn’t surprised to find that most students looked bored. Keeping his expression closed off, he tried to settle the uncomfortable hum of anxiety that twisted in his body. 

Regulus shifted his weight, forcing breath through his nose even as his lungs burned with a fiery need for air. It was all Euphemia Potter’s fault—he’d been perfectly composed when he left the house that morning, but seeing her had brought everything he'd carefully tucked away rushing back, shattering the illusion of control he’d created.

He just needed to get through the day. Once he was alone in the alcove of his dorm bed, then he’d be safe again. 

“I’m pairing up the fifth years with older students today so everyone will have a bit of guidance on how to handle things. Once I call your name, you are free to go. Seventh years, stay back with me for a bit, and we’ll discuss night rounds.”

“Sylvia and Marcus—you’re the last train round before Hogsmeade. Meet up here at four-forty-five.”

“Rosetta and Jessa—you’ll be on patrol starting at three.”

As he listed the names onward, the cabin slowly started to empty. The partners seemed completely random—it was a mix of Houses and genders. Regulus expected some kind of pattern, but perhaps Longbottom had just thrown their names in a hat. He did have a reputation for being overly fair, although competitive, at Quidditch. 

“The first round will be handled by Remus and Regulus.” Fuck. “If I haven’t called your name, you are off the hook for today. I’ll send this month's schedule with the seventh years to be posted in each of the common rooms. Please make sure you are checking it frequently.”

Remus’ scarred face looked at him with mild interest as he walked to his side. He nodded at the older boy’s half-assed greeting, his voice getting lost in his throat. It didn’t matter, Remus just gave him a tense smile as they waited for the crowd of Prefects to clear out from the carriage.

What had Sirius said about him to his friends? Nothing good, Regulus imagined, unless…

A sense of dread filled him as he considered that he hadn’t been spoken of at all. Maybe he’d been forgotten about entirely, along with their parents and home. Maybe he was just another mar in Sirius’ past, the same to him as everything else he left behind. 

“Don’t think it’s rocket science, but we’ll start here and make our way through the train. We just gotta make sure no one’s crying or fighting or anything like that,” Remus explained as he started a slow saunter up the hallway, speaking in a low tone.

Regulus wondered what rocket science was, only being marginally familiar with the second term, but decided against asking. Silence was better. 

They hadn’t even gotten past the second compartment when they ran into a young girl with fat tears rolling down her face. She was looking up and down the hallway uncertainly, obviously lost on where to go. Regulus looked at Remus, blanching at the mirrored expression which met him.

“I think you’re supposed to be guiding me,” he said in an echo of Longbottom's speech, taking a step back.  

Remus let out a tired sigh. He didn’t argue, though and approached the first year, crouching on one knee and giving her a weary smile. “Hey there.”

She eyed his scars warily, taking a hesitant step away. There were a lot of rumours about how he’d gotten his injuries, which were passed through Hogwarts; they’d toned down over the years, but Regulus wasn’t blind to the stares Remus still got from strangers. Her fear had an immediate reaction: Remus withdrew away from her, biting his lip self-consciously. 

The muffled noise of students chattering in nearby compartments was the only reprieve from the silence which settled over them.

Merlin, have mercy. It was too painful to watch any longer. 

“What’s your name?” Regulus asked over the other boy’s head. The girl’s large eyes flashed up instantly, eyebrows pressed together, and mouth drawn tight. 

“Violet Rosier,” she said after a moment, face hardened in determination. She wiped the tears off her face after a moment’s consideration, standing up a bit straighter as she stared them down. 

Regulus almost facepalmed. Evan, you idiot, he grumbled to himself. Evan had mentioned his younger sister would be coming to Hogwarts several times last year. It was easy to see the familial relationship now—she had the same blonde hair that he had when he was younger, with dark freckles scattered across her tanned face. She looked almost exactly as he did as a first-year, back before he grew several feet taller and broader. 

“Evan’s sister?” he confirmed, to which the little first-year nodded her head. He held out his hand to meet her officially. “I’m Regulus,” he greeted, feeling uncomfortable at the happy smile that lit up her face. 

“You’re Evan’s friend! He talks about you a lot,” she said, immediately moving closer to him. It must’ve been good things, he mused.

Apparently reminded of her manners, she held her hand out to Remus next, who, with groans that matched those of a hundred-year-old, had managed to get back onto his feet from the floor. 

“Remus,” he said, clasping her hand in his own. Violet listened intently as he introduced themselves as Prefects and offered to help her find a seat. “Do you want to sit with Evan? Or we can help you find some other first-years?”

Regulus’ own first train ride to Hogwarts wasn't a fond memory for him. He’d followed Sirius to a compartment, not so much as saying a word the entire ride in as his brother chatted animatedly with his mates. 

“This is my brother, Reggie. He doesn’t talk much.” Sirius’ words were honest and well-intended, but they hadn’t helped him find his footing in his group. Sirius' friends had all been loud and happy and excited; Regulus hadn’t stood a chance, feeling out of place and wrong amongst their energy and camaraderie.

His mind had been too full of worry to pay much attention to what they were saying anyway. Regulus had still been able to feel his mother’s sharp nails digging into his shoulder from that morning, a physical reminder of what would happen if he disappointed her. Even worse had been Sirius’ hopeful eyes on him from across the compartment, his desire for Regulus to follow in his footsteps equally condemning.

No matter what, he was going to disappoint somebody that day, and it hadn’t even been in his power to choose who. 

“Do you think I’ll be in Slytherin?” Violet probed from where she was wandering beside him. Remus had taken the lead again, leaving Regulus a step behind him with the young girl. She hadn’t stopped talking since they had picked her up. 

“Maybe.” Regulus didn’t want her to have too much pressure put on her; Sorting Day was bad enough without any additional stressors.  

“All my brothers are, and my dad,” she added thoughtfully. 

“Mm.”

“Was your family in Slytherin?”

“My parents,” he said after a half-beat. 

Remus looked at him over his shoulder purposefully. “Not his brother, though. He’s in Gryffindor, with me.”

“Oh,” Violet said, pausing. Regulus glanced into yet another compartment to find nameless young faces looking back up at him. Barty and Evan usually tried to find compartments near the back of the train, even though half the good treats on the trolley were gone by the time it reached them. “Is he younger or older?”

“Older.”

“Was he sad you weren’t sorted with him?”

Regulus froze, glancing into another compartment without luck. He couldn’t exactly tell Evan’s younger sister off, but it wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having. Ever. Let alone with Lupin around. 

He knew what she was hinting at, though. “Evan won’t be mad if you aren’t sorted in Slytherin,” he reassured instead. 

She bit her lip uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“But what if I’m in Gryffindor? My family hates Gryffindors,” she fretted. Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“It wouldn't change anything, even if you're a Gryffindork,” he promised, ignoring the affronted look Remus shot him from over his shoulder. Based on those alligator tears earlier, Regulus was pretty sure she didn’t have to worry about being sorted there anyway. 

“Did it change anything with your brother?”

He paused, his brain stuttering for a moment. She’d know the truth eventually, the Black brother drama was a well-known fact school-wide, but…

“Of course not. You’ll be fine.” Remus still looked ahead, but Regulus swore he could feel his gaze upon him. “Your brother’s gotta be around here somewhere…” he muttered absent-mindedly, praying for a topic change. Abruptly, Remus stopped, so suddenly that Regulus almost walked into him. 

“They were two compartments down, actually, just that one there,” he said, jerking his thumb back the way they came. As Violet slid open the door, Regulus stared at Remus. He didn’t even bother making himself known to his friends.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded, vexed.  

Remus shrugged casually, starting his slow saunter back up the train as the compartment door was slammed shut again. “I wanted to hear your answer,” he said simply. 

Regulus gritted his teeth. He took care to remain a step or two behind the Marauder so he wouldn’t have to face him. If he was lucky, maybe Remus would forget about him entirely. Bastard, he swore, glaring at the back of his head.  

When they reached the back of the train, they took a break before starting their slow trek back up towards the engine. 

“Were you telling the truth?” Remus asked eventually, breaking the silence. It took Regulus a moment to process the question.  

“About what?” You’ve seen my brother more than I have in the past six years; obviously, it changed everything with Sirius, he thought. If that’s what he meant. 

“That Evan won’t care where she’s sorted?”

“No, he’s not going to care about something as stupid as House sorting,” he muttered, purposely ignoring Remus’ inquisitive look. He was glad when a calm silence settled over them again, the corridor empty as they walked aside from the Trolley Witch and the odd student making their way to the loo.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Remus complained of being hungry. Regulus didn’t realise why he was announcing it to him, not until they stopped at a compartment and Remus slid open the door. 

His heart tightened painfully when he saw him. 

Even just a few feet away, the distance between them felt as far as ever. 

Sirius. 

Chapter Text

“Hello, lads.”

James looked up from trying to braid Sirius’ hair. The other boy was laid out across the seat, his feet kicked up on the wall and his head on James' lap. Peter sat across from them, furiously trying to skim through the summer readings that he’d put off. 

Sirius’ hair was long enough to reach his shoulders now. James hadn’t achieved much in his braiding—he’d twisted a few strands around each other in trial, but it seemed to unwind the second he let go. He’d have to get one of the girls to teach him. He’d been confident he was going to be able to figure it out himself, but as the minutes ticked by and he had no progress, he was slowly accepting defeat.

Sirius certainly didn’t mind either way. His eyes were shut in peaceful contentment, humming happily each time James messed up and had to run his fingers through his hair to start over again. At Remus’ voice, Sirius opened his eyes just a crack, pushing his chin against his chest to give him a grin. 

“Moony," he greeted. "Bored of those Prefect pricks already?” he teased, his voice gruff.

James gave Remus a small wave in the doorframe, motioning at the seat by Peter. “Stay awhile,” he said jovially, about to resume his task when he noticed a second figure half-hidden behind Remus’ frame. 

He knew who it was before his face came into view. It was a side effect of being so close with Sirius, James was sure—he was often hyperaware of his estranged brother as if he had a sixth sense for it. 

“Got another hour left of our rounds, just thought I’d check in,” Remus explained, leaning nonchalantly into the compartment. Peter looked up from his book finally.

“Think you can help me with Charms afterwards? I still have another four inches to write on intention.”

“Sure,” Remus said easily, eyes still scanning the compartment, no doubt for some snacks. His metabolism worked overtime; James swore he had to eat at least once an hour or else he’d get cranky. With a smirk, Sirius dropped his head back down onto James’ lap as he reached into the side pocket of his cargo pants, tossing Remus a bag of sweets he'd gotten off the Trolley. He shut his eyes afterwards, humming softly as James fixed his hair again. 

He had no idea of his brother standing just beyond Moony, tired eyes examining him like he held the answers to the universe. 

Knowing Sirius wouldn’t want to be watched unaware, James cleared his throat gently. “Good summer, Regulus?” he said, voice forcefully polite. Regulus’ eyes flashed up to him, mouth drawn tight as Sirius tensed against him. 

Dark shadows hung under his eyes, but even with them, his porcelain skin and dark features made him look ethereal. He had always been attractive, the same as his brother, but over the summer, his cheeks had thinned out, and he’d grown up in a way that made him a far cry from the young boy James had last seen the year prior. 

He looked sickly, but in a Victorian-era good kind of way. Was that a thing? It definitely was his thing, at least.

Honestly, it was no wonder his mum was worried about him. If James ever looked like that, she’d be likely to charm him to a bed and force-feed him soup. 

Sirius pushed himself up into a sitting position, blocking his view. James leaned forward to look around him. 

“Reg, are you—"

“Are you alright?”

Both brothers spoke at the same time, a similar line of tension drawn across each of their shoulders. 

Yeah, Regulus had definitely done a lot of growing up over the summer. His hair was a bit longer than normal; it was parted in the middle and framed his face in soft curls. He looked exactly as you'd expect the younger brother of Sirius Black to look like: gorgeous, but more delicate in almost every way. Where Sirius was tall and broad, Regulus was soft and dainty-looking. 

Remus stepped to the side, clearing the path between them. James couldn’t see Sirius’ face, but he could feel the tension radiating off of him. He didn’t like it at all—not when, just one minute ago, he had been the epitome of calm and relaxed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Reggie,” Sirius said after a moment, surrendering to whatever silent battle they’d been having between themselves. 

Regulus nodded, “Good.”

A beat of silence passed, awkwardness smothering the group.

Look after Regulus, his mum’s voice echoed in his head. James waited for Sirius to say something. More time passed, however, and the tension just seemed to rise.  

“Right then, I guess we should get back at it,” Remus cut in eventually, looking back to Regulus. 

He just tilted his head in agreement before turning on his heel.

“Right.”

Without a goodbye, he disappeared from the doorframe.

Remus followed him shortly after with a polite goodbye, the bag of candy still clenched in his hand. Before he left, his eyes met James' in silent communication—awkward. James grimaced in response. 

The door slid shut with a quiet 'click'. James waited a moment, watching the shallow movements of Sirius’ shoulders, before putting a hand on his back. He gently tugged him to lean back against the seat so they were pressed arm to arm.

“Do you think I’m a bad person for leaving?” Sirius said suddenly, eyes crinkling at the corners as they flicked between his friends. 

Peter shook his head vehemently at him from across the compartment. His book was discarded on the bench, forgotten for the time being. “Not at all. Regulus is a big boy—he can look after himself.”

James nodded his head in agreement. “Your mum… what she did was unforgivable, mate. They call it that for a reason. She tortured you. I wouldn’t have let you go back anyways,” he tried to reassure him. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and it was unlikely to be the last. He’d have it every day until Sirius forgave himself, though, if it was what he needed. 

“Reggie never fought with them at all. He had—he had cut-outs of the Pureblood riots and all those disappearances on his wall,” Sirius rambled. “He turned into a bigot, just like the rest of them. Everything I did was wrong—was another argument. And he always just stood there!”

Peter met James’ eyes for a moment, and they shared a pained look. They let Sirius talk it through, though, and explain why he had to do it, why he ran away. Neither of them would ever need an explanation, but sometimes Sirius needed to speak out loud just to remind himself, James thought. 

“He never stood up for me! He was always on their side with everything. I bet he thinks I should've just gotten married to some girl I didn’t even know, like a good little Heir. The Floo was probably still warm when they burnt me off the tapestry, just like Andy!”

James rubbed his back reassuringly as his voice rose to near-yelling levels. “You got out of there, Sirius. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“You never have to see your parents again,” Peter agreed. “And we can keep Regulus off your back, too, if you want.”

With a huff, Sirius stretched his legs out in front of him, sliding down the seat to slouch against it unbecomingly. His leather jacket grew tight across his biceps as he folded his arms across his chest, face frowning as he thought for a moment. “He didn’t look too good, did he?” he murmured, almost to himself. 

Peter looked at James then, uncertainty clouding his features. That was his cue to take charge. “I mean, he definitely has the Black-beauty thing going for him, but, no—not really. Before we got on the train, my mum told me to look out for him, actually,” James confessed.

Sirius glanced over sharply, concern etched across his face. “Did something happen?”

James' heart hurt at his distress. “I don’t think so—she didn’t say, at least. She just asked that I try to watch out for him." He tried to downplay it a little, "You know how worried she was this summer about him. It was the same as that.”

Sirius had shown up within a week of summer starting. There'd never been a question of whether he would stay with them; like James said, even if Sirius had wanted to go home, there was no way he or his parents would've let him. No matter what they said, though, James' mum hadn't seemed to be able to accept that a home which was so bad for one son could be fine for another. Her concern was for nought, however, Regulus didn't so much as owl his brother to see if he was alright since the night Sirius left. 

Sirius nodded, thinking quietly. Finally, with another huff, he threw himself back onto the seat, his head on James’ lap and knees curled up against the seat. The conversation was over now, James supposed. Peter picked up his book again as a comfortable silence settled in the compartment, and James looked out the window at the world rushing by. 

Every minute brought them closer to Hogwarts.

“Prongs?” Sirius asked after a moment, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever call my brother beautiful again,” Sirius said, voice eerily calm. 

A startled laugh escaped out of his throat before he could stop it.

“Not a problem,” he agreed easily. 

Chapter Text

Slytherin Quidditch tryouts were held on the second Sunday of the year. It was pouring rain and unseasonably cold outside; the universe hated Regulus in particular, he was pretty sure. 

He sat on his broom, hovering by their captain as the last of the players finished their laps around the Pitch. The Impervious Charm he had cast on himself before tryouts was worn off, his uniform now clinging to him like a second skin. He had finished first, followed closely only by Laila Holmes, a third-year girl who decided to go for Seeker as well this year.

He’d managed to retain his role on the team, albeit just barely. It’d been anyone’s guess who was going to get the spot; Regulus didn’t have any special bonds with his teammates from the years before that would have secured his position. He kept mostly to himself, and as long as he caught the Snitch before the other team, no one gave him a hard time for it. In the end, for Seekers, it came down to speed, and he was the fastest on the Pitch.

If Laila tried out again next year with a bit more experience, Regulus wasn’t confident he would still be able to beat her. He’d need to practice over the next summer to make sure that didn’t happen. His parents had never shown up to any games, but they had ears and eyes everywhere in the school—if Regulus was beaten out by a no-name Halfblood, they certainly would find out about it before the day was done. 

Just thinking of his father’s ire the past summer following Sirius’ departure sent a shiver down his body. It certainly wasn’t a theory he was keen on testing. 

As the last of the players finished up their laps, Regulus lowered himself to the ground. Once they were all there, Flint yelled out the successful candidates for this year’s team over the rain. Evan Rosier was among the names called, earning his place as the team's new Beater. 

Evan trotted over to him as tryouts were declared over, straight teeth on full display and dimples evident on both cheeks. “I did it!” he laughed, apparently unbothered by the downpour. The raindrops struck Regulus' skin in hard pellets, causing his cheeks to sting.

“‘Course you did,” he said, his words being lost in the vicious winds. If tryouts hadn’t been wrapped up already, they might’ve had to postpone them as the storm took a turn for the worse. Regulus desperately wanted to get inside where the rest of the team had already disappeared, clenching his jaw to ward off the chattering that had started to rattle his bones. But Evan didn’t seem to be feeling particularly rushed. He was actually moving slower than normal, Regulus was pretty sure. 

“Of course he fucking did!” Barty’s sharp voice yelled, running up to them from the bleachers and crashing into Evan. He was soaked as well, dark hair plastered against his forehead and cloak clinging to his body. He wrapped his arms around Evan’s neck, feet lifting off the ground momentarily as his momentum swung them in a circle.

Regulus stamped down the bout of jealousy that arose in him. Touch came so easily for everyone else. They initiated it and received it like a second nature. His friends had realised quickly, when he was still a bit mean and sharp-tongued with them in their third year, that touching him unexpectedly was a sure way to get hexed. 

No one had really bothered trying again as they got older. And it wasn’t like he was going to ask for a hug—that’d just be weird.

“You stayed for the whole thing?” Evan asked incredulously, taking in Barty’s state as they disengaged from each other. 

“What? You thought a little bit of rain would stop me?” he said cheekily. He was looking a bit pale, however, and his teeth were chattering loudly enough that Regulus could hear them from where he stood. “My bollocks are about to freeze off, though—let's go inside. The girls said they’d make sure the fire was lit for us.” 

Regulus walked beside them back towards the castle, silently listening as Barty reported the tryout back to them play-by-play, embellishing the bits where he thought Evan or Regulus stood out and earned their spots. It made him a bit uncomfortable, but Barty didn’t have a filter, so most of what he said did. A part of being his friend was dealing with the inappropriate comments, or in this case, relentless compliments. 

Barty used to be a bit more reserved, but the summer before their third year, something changed. Evan didn’t seem to know many details when he had told him about it, cross-legged in Regulus’ bed with the curtains drawn around them and muffling charm up, except that Barty had permanently damaged his brain. He had reckoned his dad did it. 

At thirteen, Regulus hadn’t really grasped what that meant until one day he had watched as Barty attacked a Hufflepuff mercilessly for bumping into him wrong in the corridor, and felt like he didn't recognise who he had been seeing. The kind of person Barty became wasn’t anything he was born with, and it wasn't anything that could be reasoned with, either.

It didn’t seem to go away as they aged. Red-hot rage turned into labile emotional fits and reckless impulsivity, but the rest of Barty seemed to be frozen in time. While his body grew and aged, Barty's mind stayed stuck as his twelve-year-old self. He never knew what Barty was like before then—not outside of what he'd seen as an observer—but he trusted Evan's judgement when he said he was forever changed following that summer. 

It made him a terrible person to see any silver lining in the situation, but if Barty never had his accident, Evan probably never would’ve started asking Regulus to hang out more. By the third year, Regulus had been desperate for connection—it was the only reason he had even tried out for the Quidditch team, as a last effort to try to make a friend. He wasn't sure if he would've made it another year on his own, and he didn't have to, thankfully, when one morning Evan demanded he sit with them for breakfast and latched onto him since.

Evan was his best friend now, he supposed, if he were to have one of those. Regulus was awkward, and shy, and never initiated any hangouts, but Evan took it in stride and just made more of an effort to invite Regulus everywhere he was going. He was as gentle as a boy could be, having been raised by a Pureblood fanatic and three older brothers. 

He took care of their group of misfits faithfully. 

After showering in their dorms, Regulus layered a jumper over his button-up and pulled on his thickest socks. They had a few hours until supper; under the lake, it was quiet and protected, as if the storm outside never existed at all. 

In the common room, he found his friends. 

Barty and Evan were sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch, legs stretched out towards the fire, their hair still wet from their showers. Dorcas sat on the furthest end, her knees drawn up to her chest. She waved her arms animatedly while sharing a story, her dark skin dewy and her eyes bright in the warm light of the fireplace. In the middle, Pandora sat cross-legged, her blonde hair flowing in loose curls over her shoulders right down to her lap. She offered Regulus a gentle smile as he approached, her large eyes kind and knowing.

The seat beside her remained open. 

A part of Regulus imagined sitting there, plopping himself in their warmth and happiness. They had left it open—maybe even purposefully for him. All he had to do was close the space between them and sit down.

He hesitated.

What if they didn’t want him to close it? What if someone pointed it out, and everyone looked at him strangely? He’d always kept a careful distance from everyone, and it hadn't failed him yet.

His chest tightened with worry, his throat feeling tight. The space between them stretched to metres now instead of mere feet.

Regulus wasn’t a brave person.

The decision made for him, he quietly sat in his usual seat across from the group, on the other side of the fire, and tried to settle his nerves. He focused on Dorcas as she described the way Potter’s potion had exploded in class the day before while he was distracted trying to charm Lily. 

“I don’t understand how Lily hasn’t hexed his bollocks off,” Pandora exclaimed, gaining exaggerated gasps from half the group. It wasn’t very often she cursed, her gentle nature extending into how she held herself, walked, and even spoke. 

“I would’ve years ago,” Dorcas agreed. “The way he struts around, showing off like she’s some piece of meat to be won. She’s twice the mage he’ll ever be." 

Evan made a face. "She's a Mudblood—I don't get what he even sees in her,” he said with disdain. Barty laughed as Dorcas slapped the back of Evan's head, giving him a dirty look.

“I think her body's what he’s seeing,” Barty snorted, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Regulus felt his mouth pull back slightly. “That’s disgusting."

“Because she’s Muggleborn?” 

Regulus swallowed down the sudden lump that formed in his throat at the pointed question. Pandora tilted her head at him, eyebrows pulled together. He felt very naked under her gaze, his heart racing in response. A small divide had been forming in their friend group as the war heightened outside. When they were younger, it didn't matter so much, but as they got older and closer to entering the real world, it started to lead to arguments and fights.

His knee-jerk reaction had nothing to do with Mudbloods, or even Lily herself, though. It'd been about Barty's comment. But Pandora's assumption wasn’t wrong, per se, and it was better than being misinterpreted in some other way. Like his sexuality. Regulus wasn’t into witches, period, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew half the school was salivating after Lily Evans like a bunch of mindless dogs.

Barty saved him from actually having to answer, though, “Obviously. We all know Regulus here’s gonna be married off to some Pureblood princess before graduation.”

And if that didn’t give him a whole other reason to feel sick. 

Regulus sat in bated silence as the others changed topics, trying and failing to maintain the barriers he had erected in mind. Piece by piece, he felt the walls fall apart, his throat closing a bit with each brick that disintegrated. Maybe it was from lack of sleep, or maybe he was just getting worse, but he couldn't quell the panic which was building inside of him.

Angry claws wrapped around his neck, tightening around his throat.

Barty was right, and he hated it. The thoughts he usually could only hear when he was in his bed alone at night started to whisper in his ear, increasing in volume and drowning out his friend's voices until it was all he could focus on. His mind spiralled—wondering, worrying, remembering.

"The bloodline will die with you, Sirius! Generations of Blacks, of POWER, all to waste because of your selfishness!" 

Pandora excused herself shortly after to go back to her dorm in Ravenclaw. Regulus followed in her footsteps, muttering something about Prefect duties, but headed in the opposite direction. He needed some privacy before he fell apart completely. 

His heart had begun to gallop in his chest, beating out of control. The trip across the castle was a blacked-out blur; he knew what he needed. He knew how to make himself feel better. Once he got this far gone, there was nothing else that would work. The relief was the light at the end of his tunnel-visioned mind; everything else fell into the background as he chased it. Regulus tripped on a step as he darted up the spiral staircase, his vision gone blurry. He tried to focus on the ground beneath him, on putting one foot in front of the other.

Up and up and up and up… 

The pain inside of him—the anger, and the fear, and the sadness—grew and mutated until he felt like he might shatter from it. The cold air bit at his face as he burst onto the Astronomy Tower—Regulus hastily made sure the platform was empty before slamming the door shut behind him and casting a Silencing Charm.

Finally, he let it out. 

His deadened screams got lost in the storm as the darkest bits of himself he tried to contain in boxes revolted and were unleashed. He screamed until his throat felt like it had been sliced open by razors, until his lungs burned, until his head spun. Until every unsaid word which had gotten trapped inside his mind was freed. 

I can’t do this.

Regulus dropped to his knees, falling into the wall, sharp pain radiating through each leg at the impact. He rested his arm on his lap and pushed up his sleeve with a hiss, the skin underneath was still mottled and disfigured from the last time.

He pointed his wand against it. 

Shut up shut up shut up—

Even as pain shot up his entire arm, the anguish persisted. 

"You’re the Heir now, Regulus. Your brother is a blood traitor." 

Regulus cast again, gritting his teeth as he tried to drive out the hurt in his chest. Harder, he demanded, focusing on the spell.

"Here’s a reminder of what will happen if you fail me. I have eyes everywhere—I own Wizengamot, the Aurors, Hogwarts. You won’t be foolish like your brother, will you? Because I don’t have the patience to go through this a second time." 

Again, and again.

Until it was enough.

Finally, finally, the hand around his neck loosened its grasp. He gasped, desperately sucking in a breath of air.

Calmness flooded over him in a wave, leaving his body light and floaty in its wake. Shuddered pants escaped his lips; he slumped against the wall as the world spun around him, his grip loosening on his wand and vision going spotty. 

The voices went quiet. 

Regulus dropped his head against the wall in exhaustion, keeping his eyes shut while his breathing settled. Eventually, he looked down at his arm, beads of blood welling from the gashes at the worst parts and blackened veins protruding from the edges, the dark magic spreading like spider webs. He bit his lip against a moan as he pulled his sleeve back down, hiding it from sight, ignoring the way the weeping skin burned against the fabric’s touch.

Pain radiated to his shoulder still, and he focused on it, letting it ground him as he sat in the throes of the storm. He was half-protected from the rain, a fine mist covering him from where it splattered against the hard stone of the awning and rails. 

“I didn’t want this,” he whispered silently to himself, able to speak when no one could hear his secrets. His mind was clear for once, his only thoughts his own.

He was fine being second choice, fine being invisible. He wasn’t brave like Sirius, or certain, or natural in the way he talked and held himself. He didn’t want to be Heir. And he knew his parents didn’t want him either—he could hear Mother’s sobs throughout the house weeks after Sirius had left; he could see the deep lines in Father’s face that never went away.

Sirius was the brightest star in the sky and the brightest wizard in the room. He was naturally charismatic—people liked him without real reason or encouragement. His parents loved him. 

Regulus was the backup. He was never meant to be anything more.

"I like you, Reggie," a voice reminded him in his head, making his gut twist uncomfortably. He forced it away into a box in the back of his mind.

He lowered his Silencing Charm absent-mindedly, slowly trying to put back up the mental barriers he’d need to get through the rest of the day. He wasn’t sure how long had passed when he saw the door begin to open.

He barely had time to push himself off the ground before an unwelcome face glanced at him.

James Potter.

Chapter Text

James had tried to keep his word to his mum—he really had. 

But he didn’t have any courses with Regulus, and since that morning on the Hogwarts Express, he hadn’t caught even a glimpse of him in passing. A week and a half into the school year, and he barely remembered her request.

The Welcoming Feast had been as boring as usual, with the exception of Remus finding great humour in the youngest Rosier being sorted into Gryffindor. She had waved to him excitedly as she sat down, and he offered her his sincere congratulations. Moony refused to elaborate further on his mysterious acquaintance but introduced her as Violet to the rest of the Marauders. James found himself smiling at the girl’s excitability as she met the other first years that’d been sorted to them. He remembered fondly his own Sorting Day when he had met his lifelong friends. 

Moony and Lily were Gryffindor's sixth-year Prefects. The same as the year before, however, Remus refused to put in a good word for him. James had gotten a bit jealous before of all the extra one-on-one time he got to spend with her, but he knew he didn't have to worry. Moony would never betray him like that. Now, he was just a bit envious of the friendship he had with her, while she wouldn't even give him a second look most days.

Flirting with Lily was as natural to him as flying was. She had yet to give him any sign of reciprocating his feelings, but he had faith that one day that would change. They would be perfect together—she just didn't see it yet. He had finally been making progress yesterday when his cauldron had exploded suddenly. Lily had been working with Snivellus, the same as she always did when it had happened. James was certain the git had done something to his potion.

A well-timed Leg-Locker curse had already sent Sniv flailing to the ground just the other day. That was in response to a Bat-Bogey hex, which had caught him unaware during the first week of school, though. They had fallen back into their familiar rivalry again this year as if no time had passed at all. 

It'd been a busy couple of weeks.

Frank, Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, had appointed James as Co-Captain for the year to help take over some duties. He'd found himself spread too thin between being Head Boy and also facing his N.E.W.T.s year, but James was happy to step up. Tryouts were tomorrow, so he'd spent the week planning out exercises and competitions for the team to do. McGonagall and Frank were both thrilled at his dedication.

The Marauders were already brainstorming something for later in the month, too—a 'Welcome Back to Hogwarts' sort of prank, if you will. So far, though, all they'd achieved was Sirius getting his boot melted and Remus's bed to fart every time someone sat on it. They hadn't figured out how to cancel that charm yet, much to their amusement.

All in all, it was a great start to his year. He was walking back up to the dormitory with Marlene and Remus when he took a glance at the Marauders' Map to see where Sirius might be. His attention was drawn to a lone name on the Astronomy Tower. 

Regulus.

Glancing out the window at the storm, he froze. Why the hell would he be up there in this weather? 

“I forgot to grab a book from the library. Go ahead,” James lied smoothly, backtracking the way they came. As he made his way up the tower, something in his gut urged him to hurry his steps. When he reached the top, he pushed open the door without thought, finding Regulus picking himself up from the ground, the wind whipping his hair across his face. 

He approached him without thinking, wincing as cold raindrops pelleted against his cheek, away from the shelter of the door. “Reggie?” he asked gently, glancing around. As he had expected, they were alone up there. 

“Regulus,” the younger boy corrected automatically, his voice raw. A step closer and James could make out the bloodshot state of his eyes, as well as the dried blood on his lips where they were split.

“Sirius calls you Reggie,” he pointed out. Regulus had obviously been crying—James doubted he’d take well to being called out about it, but he couldn’t help but worry. Even though it wasn’t even four pm yet, the storm’s dark clouds made it feel like it was nighttime already. He glanced back at the door wistfully. “Wanna go inside with me? Maybe we can go somewhere a bit… warmer.” And drier, he added in his head.  

Regulus shook his head ‘no’, letting out a deep breath. “And I don’t let Sirius call me that either,” he added in as an after-thought, voice more even. He went to push past him, but James grabbed his wrist, holding him back. He couldn’t let him leave right now in good conscience.

Regulus stared at where he touched him like it was burning, but he didn’t pull away.

“Look, I lost Remus’ book somewhere around here. If it’s out on the tower, it’s done for anyway, but I might’ve left it on the seventh floor after Astronomy. Can you just help me look real quick before Remus kills me?” he lied smoothly. 

Regulus looked at him with a flat expression, clearly not believing him. But his eyes flicked to his wrist, where James’ fingers were clasped gently around it, his thumb and forefinger overlapping, and he paused. James braced himself for the rejection. 

“Fine.”

James blinked at him for a moment as his brain processed the younger boy's words. “Yeah? I mean, er—thanks, Reg—or uh, Regulus. Appreciate it,” he said, all but throwing his arm away as he hurried past, leading them down the stairwell.

He gave his head a shake. Pull yourself together, James. 

“What’s the name?”

“What?”

James turned as they reached the entrance to the seventh floor, his eyebrows pulling together. Regulus looked up at him unimpressed, his cheeks rosy from the cold and lashes stuck together with wetness. His bottom lip looked to be bleeding again, the skin swollen and raw, but a flash of pink cleared it away. 

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“The book…” Regulus said slowly, as if James were a child. “What’s the name of the book?”

“Oh, it’s called The Witch in the Closet or something. I've kind of forgotten—it’s Muggle."

Regulus tensed, his eyes narrowing. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” 

James shook his head vehemently. They hadn’t even gotten to talk yet; he didn’t want baby Black taking off already. “No! 'Course not—I wouldn’t do that,” he promised, raising his hands innocently. 

Regulus scoffed at him. Scoffed. “You’ve done it,” he argued, voice flat. He started strolling down the hallway without waiting for a response, head scanning the alcoves and corners of the hallway to the right.  

“No, I haven’t,” James defended himself, stumbling to catch up. Sirius was pretty adamant about them leaving Regulus alone when it came to their pranks. If they had pulled something on him, James would have remembered. 

But Regulus shook his head in something akin to exasperation, and didn't say another word. James looked at him incredulously for a moment, indignation flaring up in his chest.

“I haven’t!” he insisted again. 

“Second year. Pink hair,” Regulus stated, not bothering to even offer him a glance.

James winced as the memory came to him. They'd recently figured out how to get into the kitchen and were experimenting to try to find a pattern for which food ended up on which table. It was just luck that that particular bowl of oatmeal had ended up in front of Regulus, though. It could’ve been in front of them for all they knew.

And who eats oatmeal anyway? He deserved to get pranked for that, as far as James was concerned.

It resulted in Regulus and Sirius engaging in a duel in the hallway that landed them both in detention. For being literal children, it was a bit mind-boggling to watch them proficiently duel using hexes and curses James hadn’t even known existed yet. Sirius was livid after—McGonagall had told their parents and everything. Walburga and Orion didn’t care about the curses, of course, just that their Heir had publicly embarrassed them so terribly. Sirius received Howlers daily for nearly a week afterwards.

“That was an accident,” he explained. “We weren’t targeting you. Besides, it’s all in good fun.”

Regulus muttered something under his breath James couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“I said it’s not fun,” Regulus said a bit louder, eyes flicking to the side uncertainly. “It wasn’t fun,” he repeated, more softly again, but his voice firm.

James frowned. Regulus' hair was pink for half the day—it wasn’t exactly world-ending stuff. He figured Regulus was being a bit dramatic; Sirius always had said he was sensitive.

“Look, people prank us all the time. We prank other people—it’s fine, no one gets hurt. Hell, look at Snivellus. We’ve been at each other for years, and he’s fine.”

Regulus laughed then, a sharp, bitter thing. “Severus is not fine. Bullying him because you want to shag his friend is pathetic, even for you lot.” 

James froze, semi-aware of his jaw hanging open. “I am not bullying anyone!” he defended himself, spinning on his heel and stalking forward so he was chest-to-chest with Regulus. He was about half a head shorter than James, but he met his gaze defiantly and didn’t give an inch. “And I’m not trying to—to shag Lily!”

“Oh, so you just blow up cauldrons because you’re so terrible at potions? Is that it?” Regulus retorted. James’ mind whirled. How did he even know about that?

“That wasn’t... Snivellus did something to my potion! It wasn’t because of that."

“It wasn’t because of what? Because you were too busy harassing some Mudblood to pay attention to what you were doing?”

James saw red. He turned away from Regulus before he did something he would regret, taking a few harsh steps away from him. “Don’t call her that!” he snapped, trying to calm his temper.

He wasn’t harassing Lily! He just flirted with her sometimes. And that word—he tried to remind himself Sirius used to use it a lot, back in first year before he knew any better. Regulus grew up in the same environment as he did; if he just had some exposure to Muggles, he’d realise that his parents were wrong—

“Oh, sorry, is using that word hurting your delicate sensibilities?” Regulus seethed. “You and Sirius are the same—you act like you are so much better than everyone else, but you are just the same. Four against one—a group of three rich Purebloods and their pet against a poor sodding Halfblood—and you consider it pranking?” His voice was still eerily even, but his words sharpened to cut like daggers. “Having a crush on a Mudblood doesn’t make you some sort of saviour, Potter. And Sirius pretends to be so different from our family, but he is just like them! He was gleeful the day the Appeal Against House-Elf Slavery was defeated; he made fun of Kreacher all day—"

“That’s a House-elf!” James interjected angrily.

“Exactly! He is a House-elf, and Sirius just sees him as some kind of second-class species!”

“So what? You care about House-elves but not HUMAN BEINGS!” James exploded. What the hell was wrong with Regulus? 

As he stomped back towards him, argument prepared on his tongue, suddenly the wall beside them began to tremble and shake. They both stumbled back a step in surprise as a wooden door appeared in the previously blank stone.

Bloody hell.

For a moment, they stood silently. When nothing else moved, James stepped towards the door cautiously.

“This wasn’t here a second ago, right?” he confirmed, their fight momentarily forgotten. It looked like a plain door, not very wide or intricate. Just flat, light wood with a simple black handle. 

He could hear Regulus shuffling behind him for a better look as he tried the handle. It clicked open easily.

“No, not there before,” Regulus' voice confirmed uneasily. He didn’t protest as James pushed the door the rest of the way open, but he remained a few steps behind him. 

“Oh, wow,” James exclaimed as he took in the room. It was illuminated with warm light from a fireplace, but also with lamps on several small tables and standing tall in the corners. A large bookshelf covered the entire wall to the right, floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, stocked full of literature, with a sliding ladder pushed up against the far side of it. A comfortable-looking burgundy couch was in front of the fire, with high-backed chairs on either side of it and a low oak coffee table in between. 

Games and toys were stacked in every corner; James darted around the room in amazement as he tried to take it all in.

“Oh wow!" he repeated. "Monopoly! Remus said that’s a Muggle game and—Merlin! I think this is a ‘telly’!” he all but shouted, running towards the shiny-looking box. Even more games filled some shelves to the left, and on top of one of the cabinets was a record player. “Look at all these albums!” James said excitedly, turning to try to get Regulus’ attention to where he stood. 

He found the boy standing frozen in the middle of the room, eyes widened.

“This is all Muggle stuff,” he said uncertainly, glancing around like something was going to come out of the shadows and bite him. 

James felt his heart clench at his obvious hesitation. “Yeah, but it’s cool," he reassured him. "It’s safe. I don’t know where this room came from, but..." He frowned. Where had it come from? It had been revealed by some sort of charm clearly, because it certainly hadn’t been there for the past six years.

But why did it appear now?

“Did you cast anything at me? While we were fighting? Or think about something…” he wondered aloud, trying to piece together how they could’ve summoned it. 

“Muggles have bombs,” Regulus said suddenly, eyes flicking at James in worry. “Do you know what they look like? In 1945, they blew up half a country with them. Almost a quarter million people died with just two bombs. Kids and everything. And they’ve done that loads of times.”

James startled. “Er, I don’t," he admitted. "But there wouldn't be any bombs in here. Hogwarts would defend against that." Externally, he nodded to Regulus with certainty. Internally, he wondered about the truth of his statement. He’d heard about those attacks in passing but didn’t actually know too much about them, to be honest. 

“They have guns, too. They are devices that can kill someone just like Avada can,” Regulus continued. “They don’t even need to mean it, though—just pow. Gone. Anyone can do it!”

James shook his head. “Yeah, but they don’t just go off. Someone needs to cast it still. And Hogwarts wouldn’t let guns into the building, either,” he said confidently. Would it? His parents never talked about this Muggle stuff with him. He was refusing to let Reg’s anxiety ruin this for him, however. “These are all just games and fun inventions. Nothing dangerous!”

He was lying through his teeth, but Regulus didn’t seem to notice. James didn’t know what half the stuff in the room was, but it didn’t look dangerous.

“See, check out the telly, Reg. And these lights! They are run with electricity,” he stated factually, putting his hand on Regulus’ back to gently guide him towards said items. He tensed under his touch, but James just held it there steadily. 

He just had to show Regulus some of the amazing things Muggles had invented and done. Then he’d understand and wouldn't think—

James froze. That’s what he had been thinking about when the room appeared, hadn’t it? About teaching Reg how wrong his parents were about this sort of stuff? It couldn’t be that simple...

Could it? 

Never allowing an idea to get away from him, he herded Regulus back outside the room. The door rumbled and disappeared into nothingness just as smoothly as it had appeared once they stood outside of it. 

James didn’t let himself get too excited about the way Regulus frowned at its absence.

“Stand there!” James ordered briskly, thinking hard about Muggle's inventions. 

A beat passed. 

Then two.

Nothing happened. 

Regulus made good on James’ request, though, and didn’t so much as move a muscle. 

He shut his eyes and concentrated harder. Muggles Muggles Muggles… James opened them after a moment, shoulders drooping when the wall remained unchanged. 

“It had to have my thoughts! We were fighting, and I was thinking about how you just needed a chance to learn about all this stuff..."

“Pace,” Regulus said suddenly, apparently more intrigued by the mystery of The Room than James' ploy. “You were walking back and forth like you wanted to hit me. Try that again.”

James nodded in excitement. “Right! Okay, one second.”

He walked desperately back and forth, focusing on The Room. On the third pass, the door rumbled and appeared again. 

“Yes!” James hollered, pumping his fist in the air as he leapt. Even a small smile appeared on Regulus’ face as James bared his teeth to him in glee. “We figured it out!”

Regulus fought his smile back into a flat line, his cheeks twitching disobediently. James' heart fluttered. He realised it was the first time he’d seen Regulus do it.

“Okay, let’s go check out the telly," he settled as they re-entered The Room. "They have films, it's called. They're like a whole book, but with moving images! I think you’ll like it.”

As it turned out, he had no idea how to operate the telly. There were boxes of tapes with titles and pictures on them, similar to books, but he wasn’t sure how to get them to move. He spent over a half hour trying to touch different parts of the cold glass of the screen and several of the mysterious black boxes, but nothing happened. 

Regulus sat cross-legged by his side the entire time in calm silence, watching him work with his brows pulled together. 

“They have whole stories in here?” he asked quietly once James had given up to lie on the floor, examining one of the tapes curiously. James absent-mindedly played with the frayed edges of the thick carpet, noting how soft it was. It practically felt like a mattress on the floor under him. 

James nodded. “I haven’t seen one, but Remus said that it's like our moving pictures. Except it goes on for hours, sorta like a play.”

Regulus looked disappointed for a brief moment before smoothing the features out on his face and replacing the tape into its case. James felt a new wave of determination hit him.

“I’ll figure it out, though... Maybe I can get Remus to help.”

Something flashed across Regulus' face so quickly that James would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring at him already. If James told Remus, he’d have to tell Sirius and Peter. And if all four of them were here, he knew Regulus wouldn’t even consider coming back.

“I don't have to, though—I think I can do it,” he added. “Maybe we’ll just keep this place secret for now.”

Regulus’ silver eyes glanced at him. “If that’s what you want,” he said, deliberately uncaring, his fingers tapping on his knees nervously. James smiled, knowing he'd made the right call. 

Silence suited Regulus. It didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable; it felt thoughtful and calm. James found himself relaxing, even though silence didn’t suit him at all. He was always too loud, too energetic, too wild. Sitting still ended with bouncing knees and shredded pieces of paper. James did his best thinking while he was moving, but, in that moment, he found he didn’t mind so much just lying around. 

Something was bugging him still as he remembered their argument from earlier. The idea of Regulus not liking him, or thinking he was a bad person, was driving him insane for some reason. He was a good person, and he wanted Regulus to know it.

“I don’t bully Severus,” he said after a moment. “And I’m not harassing Lily.”

Regulus licked his lips and shrugged. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said easily, brushing him off. He said it complacently, like he was trying to settle a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

James frowned at his easy dismissal. “You must’ve, though, if you said it. Don’t—you don’t have to ‘people please’ me, alright? Just be honest.”

Regulus shrugged again, watching James’ hands as he wrapped a few of the strings around his finger loosely. After a moment, he took a deep breath, as if bracing himself.

“You’re James Potter. Maybe this stuff is just fun for you, but it doesn’t mean everyone else bounces back as easily.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re popular. People like you. People want to be your friend. You’re attractive and a Pureblood and come from old money. If something embarrasses you—you blow up your potion, or trip, or whatever—it’s not a big deal. Everyone’s still on your side.” 

James shrugged, trying not to reminisce too much on Regulus calling him attractive. “I know I’m privileged, but so are you.”

“Not like you. And Severus and Lily certainly aren’t, either. When you embarrass them, they don’t just bounce back from it like you do. Everyone remembers it, and everyone holds it against them. It's not fun for them at all. Slughorn accidentally called Severus ‘Snivellus’ the other day.”

James couldn’t help but snort, silencing it immediately at Regulus’ look of frustration. He put on his ‘best behaved’ face he usually saved for Minnie.

“Funny for you," Regulus continued. "But who's he got? Lily? Half the school hates him for being Slytherin, and the other half hates him simply because you do. He doesn’t fit in with his own House—he’s weird, and poor, and on top of that, he’s a Halfblood who hangs out with a Mud—with a Muggleborn most of the time. A Muggleborn who is constantly talked about for standing up against you. She's made it pretty clear she doesn't like you, Potter, but you still won't leave them alone.”

“She knows it’s with good intentions,” James argued, his heart clenching as he heard his mum’s disappointment through Regulus’ speech. He could imagine his parents saying something along the same lines a little too easily. The problem was that he liked Lily—his brain went all stupid when he was around her. It was hardly on purpose the way he acted, not that he'd ever admit that to Regulus. She just seemed to be the only person he wasn't able to impress, no matter what he did. 

“Does she? My friend Dorcas said she would’ve hexed your bollocks off if you ever spoke to her how you speak to Lily. Lily can’t do that, though, because then the whole school would hate her for it. She doesn’t have any power compared to you,” Regulus argued, voice tightening with that final statement. 

James frowned as he considered, ignoring the way a few of his points hit a bit too close to home. His pride was flaring in his chest, demanding he defend himself. “I don’t see you hanging around with Sniv either,” he argued. “And I know you wouldn’t be caught dead with Lily, given her status.”

Regulus shrugged. “I’m not pretending I do. You know the expectations of my family—our values. I’m not Sirius.”

Sirius often pointed out how different he was from his family. He said it as a source of pride, like it was something that made him better than them (and it did, James would argue). The way Regulus said it, though—it didn’t sound like he was tearing Sirius down. Just that he was acknowledging their differences.

“How can you believe that stuff anyway? ‘Mudblood’ is an old theory that was disproved decades ago. You are smart, Regulus. I know you must see that power doesn’t come from bloodlines.”

Regulus didn’t look up from the ground. “The same time we were having Squib and Pureblood riots, the Muggles were having race riots. If we were Muggles, Dorcas, or maybe even you, wouldn’t have been allowed in the same school as me in some places. Because of skin colour. And Muggles kept other Muggles as slaves. They used them instead of House-elves. And the bombs—what they’ve done during wars. It’s barbaric.”

“As barbaric as thinking someone’s blood status determines their worth,” James argued petulantly.

He didn’t know about the slavery-thing Regulus mentioned, or some of his other points, but it didn't change what was going on in their world today. In the same way his parents had taught him about the good parts of Muggle culture, it seemed the Blacks had focused on the bad bits.

“Wizarding history isn’t perfect either. Like with House-elves! You obviously think they deserve rights, or whatever. Maybe one day that’ll happen, and this will all end up being a part of a dark history. There are good and bad wizards, just like there are good and bad Muggles. If you only focus on the bad, of course it’s going to seem scary.”

“House-elves find honour in serving,” Regulus said obtusely, ignoring all James' other points. James didn’t pretend to understand it—Kreacher sounded like an absolute nightmare, according to Sirius. His family’s own House-elf, Penny, was a weird sort of character. He rarely saw her anyway. “But they deserve protection and rights,” Regulus’ voice wavered, giving away an uncharacteristic amount of emotion. 

James felt his eyebrows crease. He backtracked hastily. “It sounds like Kreacher is really… important to you." 

Regulus looked up at him with a slight frown, his eyes crinkled in confusion.

“He's family."

“...Right.”

James paused for a moment, thinking about Penny again. Was she part of his family? His parents never mentioned anything about it, but she’d been with them for several generations now. It wasn’t like she had a place at the table, though, or came to any celebrations or ceremonies. 

She was there when he was born though. She was there when his dad was born as well, and his father, too. Should they be including her more? James wondered curiously. 

He pictured Penny's short legs stretched out in front of her as she sat in a chair too large for her at their table, her big eyes only half visible over the tabletop, and he laughed. His parents were good people—he needn’t worry about Penny. Maybe he’d make a bit more of an effort to say 'hello' to her the next time he was home, he amended. 

“Is that…” James' attention was brought back to the present by Regulus’ soft voice. “Is that Remus’ book you were looking for?” he asked suspiciously, eyeing something above James’ head. He twisted around to look at the side table, where a lone book sat. He pushed his glasses up on his nose as he read the title on the spine: 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.'

“Oh wow, it is!” he exclaimed, laughing a bit as he reached for it. “Well, not his copy, obviously, but still…” This room was good! There was never a book to start with, but this collaborated with his lie all the same.

Regulus was shaking his head in disbelief. “The Witch in the Closet? You weren’t even close!” he blurted, eyes crinkled in amusement. It was the second smile James had provoked from him, he realised. It made something in him feel satisfied.

“I wasn’t reading it anyway," James said. "Why don’t you take this one? You like to read, right?”

He passed it to Regulus, hiding his grin behind a fake cough when he accepted it with just the slightest hesitation. It was Regulus's first act of rebellion against his family—James was proud of his corruption of the youngest Black already.

His stomach grumbling interrupted the moment. Checking his watch, he was surprised to see they’d almost missed dinner.

“Oh, we better get going!” he said, pushing himself up off the floor. Regulus remained seated, however, reading the book’s synopsis with unwavering attention. 

“I think I’ll stay here a bit,” he said, not looking up. 

James frowned, looking between the door and Regulus indecisively for a minute. He wouldn’t mind hanging out with him a bit longer, but he’d be starving if he skipped a meal. “Do you want to meet back here tomorrow night? Maybe we can hang out some more,” he suggested instead. 

Regulus looked up, brows furrowed as he thought seriously about it for a moment. James’ chest filled with warmth when he nodded in agreement. “Sure,” he said, with just a bit of uncertainty. 

“And uh, you’ll make sure you get something to eat, right?” he confirmed. 

Regulus gave him a strange look but nodded the affirmative. 

“Great! Good! That’s—that’s good, yeah. I’ll see you soon,” James said, finally turning to make his way to the Great Hall. 

Overall, that went pretty well, he thought. 

Chapter Text

As September reached its end and October began, the first-years settled into their new home and were getting lost far less frequently. Regulus found his Prefect duties easing up as they adjusted to life at Hogwarts. With new responsibilities and freedom came new growth and, apparently, rebellion. It felt like the entirety of his first month back had been spent helping them locate their classes and managing their behaviours. He was pretty sure his class hadn't been nearly as bold as this year's was turning out to be.

Quite bravely, Violet, who got sorted into Gryffindor after all, even crossed the Great Hall to sit with Evan for breakfast this morning. Perhaps the Sorting Hat was onto something with her—Regulus was certain everyone’s eyes were on her the entire meal, but she held her head high, not a care in the world.

He didn’t say as much, but he was glad to hear she was having a good month and had made some friends already. She had spent her first night sniffling to Evan about how their brothers were going to react, but her melancholy was short-lived. The next time Regulus saw her, she was as bright as day, brandishing her Gryffindor colours like it had been her dream all along. Even in separate houses, the Rosiers remained amicable, their rivalry anything but serious. Violet started to hiss at Evan whenever they crossed paths in the hallway, much to Evan's amusement, and just recently, she started doing it to Barty and Regulus as well.

When Regulus was younger, students from other Houses used to do that to them to ridicule the Slytherins, but with a mutual effort to hex anyone who did, the harassment finally stopped a couple of years back. With Violet, it was like a silly little 'hello' though, which he didn’t find himself minding much at all. Barty, the last time, even roared and growled back to everyone’s bewilderment in the corridor that afternoon. 

Evan actually pissed himself a bit from laughing so hard. 

Night rounds were Regulus’ favourite Prefect duty. The forced one-on-one interactions with Celeste were making him a bit more understanding of Sirius’ adamant rejection of her, however. On their last patrol, he made sure he didn’t utter a single word to her, and she still snapped at him no less than three times to leave her alone. 

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, Regulus was paired with Lily Evans, being reassigned to take the place of Remus.

He had a suspicion it had to do with the full moon.

If Regulus really wanted to, he could’ve tried looking Remus up in the werewolf registry, but he just couldn’t be bothered. Of course, he had grown up with horror stories of werewolves, but Remus had better self-control than Sirius did, even on his worst days.

He was curious more than anything. Most of the Wizarding World misunderstood House-elves entirely, and they were much easier to speak with than a transformed wolf. It didn't seem unlikely a lot of what he'd been taught were myths. People often didn't want to look past the surface of things—something he was starting to suspect extended to his family. 

The Muggle Room he and James had found was filled with scientific journals and textbooks, and he spent every free minute he had with his nose in a book. 

Muggles had a cure for almost everything—they’d long since evolved past bloodletting for nearly every ailment. They had medicines similar to potions and had developed some procedures that, while barbaric in essence, produced remarkable outcomes. It was as if they forged magic out of their intelligence and creativity, able to heal people and extend their lifetimes in miraculous ways he'd never heard of before.

And that was just the beginning—they landed a man on the moon! Wizard-kind hadn’t even achieved such a thing. He’d heard as a young child about the wizard who attempted to Apparate there, but he was never seen again, quite obviously. It was as if Muggles didn't even think there was such a thing as 'impossible', their advancements seemed never-ending.

Regulus had barely skimmed the surface of what they’d achieved this past century, but he was enthralled with every bit of new information he had learnt. Of course, he’d read Grindelwald’s dissertation on the Dangers of Muggle Technology, but it seemed outdated to him now.

The seed of doubt had been planted, to say the least. 

Quick taps of footsteps coming towards him pulled him from his thoughts. Like with Celeste, Lily was already upset with him before he even spoke. 

“Is this going to be a problem?”

She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, the top two buttons of her blouse undone and tie missing. Her green eyes were vibrant even in the low lighting, and her hair was pulled back in a half-updo. Concentrated freckles sat across the bridge of her nose, her full lips turned down in a frown, and her eyebrows arched high.

If he were an artist, he imagined he would like to paint the way the light caught on her light eyelashes and silky hair. Even glaring at him, she was beautiful. He understood why everyone was so enchanted by her—he was gay, not blind, after all.

Regulus realised that she was waiting for him to speak, her eyes narrowed as if daring him to insult her.

“No,” he said simply, tucking his hands in his pockets to hide their slight tremor as they started their journey throughout the school. Lily kept a brisk pace, like somehow it’d make the time go by faster. Regulus let her walk a few steps ahead of him, unbothered to speak on it. 

People were often wary of him. Beyond his education in the Dark Arts, which had been a hot topic at one time, his resting face was “contemplating murder-esque,” as Barty tastefully put it. He was somewhat impressed with Lily’s forwardness—a lesser witch probably would’ve asked for a change in assignment or just bailed entirely. Many people went out of their way to avoid him, particularly Mudbloods.

Well, he knew what they said about Gryffindors and bravery and all of that.

The past few weeks, he and James had met up on more than a handful of occasions. Unfortunately, it was doing nothing but ruining the image Regulus had created of him in his mind. 

James was funny and naturally caring. He’d asked Regulus more than once if he’d eaten, and touched him gently, like he was something that could be easily broken. And Merlin, did he touch him. It was constant: his shoulder bumping into him, his knee pressed against his own, a hand on his back to guide him, or around his wrist to pull his attention to him. They were thoughtless, inconsequential actions, but each touch made Regulus feel like his skin was on fire. He wanted to lean into it; he wanted more.

And he was gorgeous. Godric Gryffindor must’ve blessed James himself because—

Regulus shoved those thoughts from his mind hastily. It was already torturous enough to hang out with him without allowing himself to daydream about it. It was getting a bit ridiculous, frankly. His mind wasn’t being very cooperative tonight, however, as it lingered in dangerous territory, thinking about James.

About James stretching out on the floor and rolling around, his toned stomach on display as he twisted and reached for a book just out of his grasp. And his hands, large and calloused, with long fingers and perfectly shaped nails. Or his face, glasses accentuating those big brown eyes and strong nose—

Releasing air through his nose in a controlled exhale, Regulus desperately tried to think about his Charms essay instead.

Unaware of his inner conflict, Lily blazed the path ahead, her head held high. Regulus focused on her, examining her fully without a chance of being caught doing so, jealousy sitting heavy in his stomach. He understood why James was so smitten with her, honestly, watching her hair swish back and forth with each step. And he was sure one day she might end up feeling the same if James ever started acting right.

Just a couple of perfect people made for one another.

They’d made it to the first floor in record time. Regulus hadn’t remembered even patrolling the Dungeons if he were to be honest. He'd been so caught up in his head that he didn't even remember walking up the stairs. If this was what Lily wanted to do for the rest of their patrol, perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad night after all. 

Loud sniffles caused them both to pause in their step. 

Someone was definitely breaking curfew. 

Following the noise, Lily led them to one of the alcoves near the main entrance, slowing her pace considerably as she approached and looked around the corner. She made a sympathetic noise, her voice gentle and comforting.

“Oh, Violet, what’s going on?”

Regulus made a wider turn around the corner, the young girl coming into view moments after Lily knelt on the ground beside her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her face shiny with tears. Regulus felt his fists clenched in his pocket, anger swirling under the surface of the skin. He approached unbeckoned, dropping to a knee in front of her. Lily looked at him hesitatingly, tongue pressed between her teeth.

“I got this,” she said, her gentle tone forced. He understood what she was actually saying—go away. 

But Violet wasn’t just any first-year Gryffindor, and Regulus had a pretty good guess of what might’ve happened. 

“Who?” he asked simply, holding her gaze, her blue eyes the very same as Evan’s.

She shook her head, sniffling loudly, but shuffled a bit closer to him. 

If Regulus was somebody else—someone less broken, and sharp, and dirty—he probably would’ve hugged her. He knew Evan would’ve. Lily was ready to. Hell, even Barty would’ve. But he was Regulus, so he twisted to sit on his arse beside her instead. He’d left space between them, but she closed it quickly, pushing against him into his side. 

“Who, Violet?” he asked again, voice even. 

The downfall of this position was that now he was facing Lily. She looked at him, her face pensive for a moment, before flopping down for a seat on Violet’s other side so they all sat against the wall. 

“The fifth-years. Micheal and his friends. They said… They said that I shouldn’t sit with you guys during breakfast. And that I would be a traitor if I did. I said I was just talking to Evan, but they said that he’s a Death Eater wannabe and would be dead or in Azkaban soon.” Her voice hitched slightly at the end as she held back a sob. She managed to keep it contained, continuing after another shuddered breath. “And then Marnie and Trisha agreed with them, which is stupid because they are my friends! They just wanted to try to impress the boys,” she scowled angrily. 

Regulus was going to commit his first murder—unless Evan beat him to it, of course. Micheal was going down; that much he knew for certain. Fucking Marnie and Trisha have a lesson headed for them as well, he decided. Maybe not the violent kind, but a lesson nonetheless. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lily was saying to Violet. “That is completely inappropriate. I’m going to talk to all of them, and Professor McGonagall will be updated—“

Wait, Micheal? Regulus realised incredulously. He was the Gryffindor Seeker, wasn’t he? That was the little git was the one making Violet cry like this?

“—And they’ll all get detentions. I’ll oversee it myself.”

Violet sniffed, and Regulus glanced over at her again. She seemed more calm, but he knew a couple of detentions weren’t going to solve her problems. 

“Are you going to tell Evan?” she asked after a minute. 

Regulus tilted his chin in affirmation. 

“He’s going to kill them,” she said, voice calm. 

Regulus shrugged and then leaned in a bit closer. “I’m gonna help,” he said in a whisper, knowing full well Lily could hear him. Violet giggled, though, pushing into his side more firmly. He froze for a moment, and then, before he could overthink it, he lifted his arm around her in a quick half-hug. 

His heart was thudding violently in his chest as he stood to his feet.

They escorted Violet back towards the Gryffindor Tower, and in an echo of his first patrol with Remus, she stuck to the status quo of asking the worst questions possible given the present company. 

“Regulus, is Evan a bad person?” she asked timidly as they left the alcove, looking up at him uncertainly. 

He shook his head 'no'. He didn’t even need to think about it, really. Considering his family, how Evan turned out was a bit disorientating. He would’ve given James a run for his money for 'golden boy' had he come from the supportive, loving type. 

“Are you lying?”

Regulus frowned at the ground as they made their way up the stairwell slowly. “I haven’t lied to you before.” 

“You said everything with your brother was fine when you got sorted in different Houses,” she pointed out. 

Ah, she had been caught up on the drama already, it seemed. Regulus wondered if Sirius took the time out of his day to tell all the new students about his disappointing little brother himself, or if he just relied on his followers to do that?

“Evan was proud of you,” he deflected. She shot him a look that told him she wasn’t falling for it. 

“Okay, I lied,” he admitted bluntly. “But it wasn’t the same situation—there was no point in worrying you.”

Apparently, that was an acceptable answer as she let it drop and began asking him about Quidditch instead, looking forward to their opening match. Finally, as they approached the Fat Lady portrait, she said her goodbyes and, with a tired wave, followed Lily into the Gryffindor common room. Regulus leaned against the wall with a sigh. 

It probably would have been wise to tell Violet to avoid being seen in public with any Slytherins to prevent any future problems, but he couldn’t do that to Evan. That decision would be up to him. 

Lily reappeared shortly after, gesturing ahead of her. “Shall we continue?”

With a nod, they carried on with their route. Lily set a more leisurely pace this time, allowing Regulus to walk alongside her. 

“You know that attacking Micheal and those boys might just make things worse for her?” Lily said after a minute, eyes flicking to him as if she expected him to lash out at her.

He just offered a shrug. 

“It’d reinforce what they said, that you’re bad news and she’s wrong to associate with you,” Lily added when he didn't respond. 

“She’s Evan’s little sister, and they made her cry,” he pointed out. “They shouldn’t say that stuff to her.”

“I agree,” Lily amended. “But God knows it’s going to be hard enough for her already if she wants to stay close to Evan.”

Because you think he’s a 'wannabe Death Eater?' Or just because he’s a Slytherin? 

“I guess I’d know,” she said sadly after a moment. 

He considered Severus then and all the slander and judgment Lily had to endure over the past six years just to remain his friend. 'Loyal' didn’t even begin to cover it, especially with how lately he was hanging out with Mulciber and Flint more often, who weren’t exactly shy about their prejudices. Severus was starting to act just like them these days, doing anything to fit in and gain their approval. Regulus found it a bit sad, to be honest.

It wasn’t like anyone else had ever let him hang out with them—they might be the only people in the school willing to, aside from Lily. Regulus wasn't unfamiliar with the desperation for acceptance that came from being outcasted for too long. Severus had limited options for friends at the end of the day; Regulus himself avoided him since he wasn’t a Pureblood. Except…

Except maybe that was an ambiguous rule his parents had, one that didn’t really make sense, like how he wasn’t allowed to leave the house through the front door lest he run into a Muggle.

Lily was Muggleborn. She went home to Muggles every summer and holiday and received some of the highest grades in her year. Beyond that, she was obviously healthy and well, which disputed a lot of what he’d been told alone. 

Maybe she even used some of the technology Grindelwald tried to ‘expose’ during his reign...

"Filth!" Mother’s voice shrieked in his head. "Vile Mudblood!"

"If you disappoint us, we will not be so tolerable," Orion’s cold-hearted threat reminded him.

"‘Mudblood’ is an old theory that was disproved decades ago. You are smart, Regulus," James interjected in his head.

“Lily,” Regulus said after a moment, his heart thudding. His hands were retreated into his pockets, and his breath was purposefully controlled so she wouldn’t notice anything was wrong. He swallowed against the tightness that'd begun to develop in his throat.

“Hm?” she said, glancing at him with a small furrow in her brow. She obviously didn’t hate him anymore, but she certainly didn’t trust him either.

It was nearly eleven pm, he reassured himself. There's no one around to hear—even the portraits are sleeping.  

“Do you,” he asked, trying to keep his voice even, “have a telly?”

She tripped slightly, twisting her head to the side to look at him.

“A telly?” she echoed, perplexed. 

“A telly,” he repeated calmly. “A box with a glass side? It uses electricity to show…movies? With…UFOs?” he tried to describe, feeling like an idiot. It was too late to turn back—he kept trying, hoping she'd understand. “Black rectangles? Muggle invention?”

A glance to his right confirmed that Lily was looking at him as if he was disturbed. 

What the hell are you doing? He scolded himself, looking to the ground, his cheeks heating. Anger was better—you idiot. You sodding idiot. Hating you was better than whatever the hell she is thinking about you now.

“Yes,” she said suddenly, giving herself a sharp nod as if committing to her answer. “At home, my family has a telly. It’s also called a television, though, or TV for short. Telly is slang.”

“Oh,” Regulus said dumbly. He wanted to know more, and thankfully, after a moment, she continued on unprovoked. 

“The movies you are referring to—those black boxes—they are called VHS tapes. Not UFOs. UFOs stand for 'unidentified flying objects.'” 

He considered for a moment. “Like brooms? Or like rocket ships?” Reading about the moon landing had certainly clarified what Remus had meant when he had said 'rocket science' on the train back in September. It was surely a very complex matter. 

"Never mind that," she dismissed. “We can talk about that later; it’s an entirely different topic. What makes you so interested in television?”

“I don’t understand how they work,” he said, trying to sound apathetic. Gathering his courage, he asked the question he was really curious about. “How would one play a movie," he inquired. "If they had a 'television' and 'VHS?'"

"Well," she started, her mouth twitching at the grateful smile he tried to give her. "The first thing you'd want to do..."

Regulus listened intently. If all went well, he'd have a great surprise for James when they met up the following night. 

Chapter Text

It was the day following the full moon, and half-asleep, James found himself stumbling towards the Great Hall for supper, Peter and Sirius at his side. Remus was out of the infirmary but passed out still soundly in his bed, settled with the promise they’d bring him back some food. James had slept most of the day, accidentally missing a weekend detention he’d earned in Charms. Flitwick was kind enough to reschedule it for tomorrow, though, so his plans with Reg tonight weren’t going to be affected. 

Regulus was the favourite part of his week. Usually broody and quiet, it made James feel like he won a battle each time the other boy smiled or got caught up talking excitedly about something he’d been reading. As Regulus got more comfortable and remarkably less standoffish, James started to suspect the boy was not as much of an asshole as he presented himself to be. He was actually very cute, and seemingly very shy. 

He always squirmed uncomfortably when James stared at him for too long, which he accidentally found himself doing often. And the way he reacted each time he brushed up against him or made even the slightest contact… James made his movements slow and obvious, and even still, Regulus reacted like his skin was covered with hundreds of exposed nerves. Sirius used to be weird about touch, too, until James and Peter hugged and dog-piled on him enough that not only did he get used to it, but he learned to love it. He felt dedicated to providing the youngest Black with the same treatment. 

James had started finding himself thinking about the younger boy several times a day.

That was a whole other issue in itself. He didn’t like-like Regulus, but he knew he was getting fixated on him the way he did with things sometimes, and he worried about being too much and pushing him away. His mum had instructed him to invite Regulus to their house for the holidays, but he wasn’t sure if Regulus would agree to come. James certainly hoped so, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

He hadn’t mentioned anything to Sirius yet, since nothing had been accomplished, but he would soon.

Sudden screaming startled him from his thoughts like a bucket of cold water getting dumped on his head. 

Giving each other wide-eyed looks, the three boys sprinted towards the sound, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. They found the Gryffindor Seeker, Micheal, on his knees just outside the Great Hall, his face twisted in pain. 

“It hurts!” he screamed, clutching at his head in agony. James, heart pounding, dropped to the floor beside him, gently trying to lift Micheal's chin to meet his gaze. 

“Michael, what’s wrong?” he asked, panicked. The other boy just screamed again, curling forward in anguish. Suddenly, his skin split open above his temple, blood leaking from the lesion between his fingers and in a river down his face. From the gash, a bloody point protruded, blunt and wide, erupting out past his hairline. 

“Make it stop! Please make it stop!”

He screamed out in pain again as the growths relentlessly lengthened, thickening and curving as they grew. James watched helplessly as they stretched to about half a foot before finally seeming to harden and solidify.

Horns. Micheal had bloody horns sticking out of his skull. 

The younger boy looked up, his hands trembling, his eyes wet and scared.

Yelling from the Great Hall jerked James' gaze away. He looked to Sirius and motioned to Michael on the ground. “Stay with him!” he instructed, jumping to his feet to investigate. Before he could move, another shriek suddenly echoed from behind them.

What the hell is going on?

“Go to the Great Hall! Wormy, stay with Micheal! I’ll go back to the Entrance!” Sirius declared. They split up quickly, taking off to their assigned locations. 

The Gryffindor table was in chaos when he arrived. Students stood in a crowd, their expressions horrified, and some of their faces tinged green. James shoved them apart to get through. Frank was already there, holding two boys' shoulders and shouting reassurances, his eyes looking wild. Across the table, a third boy was shrieking similarly. 

The same as Micheal, horns protruded from their heads, splitting the skin open grotesquely and growing in a matter of seconds. Finally, they quieted down, staring at each other with ashen expressions. One of the boys, Mark, reached over to touch his friend's horn gently. The boy did the same to him after a moment’s hesitation. 

Frank looked flabbergasted.

“It happened to Micheal, too, just outside the door. Pete’s with him,” James filled in the Head Boy quickly. “Sirius went to go check on some other yells we heard. 

“I’m taking them to the infirmary,” Frank declared, motioning for the boys to stand up from the benches. Mark was shaking his head vigorously like a dog just out of the water—the horns didn’t budge.

“It’s kinda itchy,” the third boy said quietly, scratching at the spot where the horn met his skin. It looked perfectly healed, as if it had been there forever and not mere minutes. The residual blood was the only sign of what had just occurred, but with a quick spell, James easily cleared it away for him.

“James, lead the rest of the students back to the common room," Frank ordered. "AND FOR MERLIN’S SAKE STOP EATING! We don't know what caused this!” A third-year froze guiltily, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Tell our Prefects and McGonagall—I want all the House accounted for until we know what’s going on. They might have to go round up a few stragglers who missed supper.”

Nodding in understanding, James raised his arm and yelled at the students to follow him. A quiet murmur settled over the group as they discussed the happenings, but they organised themselves obediently.

Micheal, looking a bit pale, burst into laughter upon seeing his three friends with similar horns. Frank rolled his eyes at their antics but didn’t comment further. Sirius appeared soon after, guiding two first-year girls with him whose skin had switched to an unsightly green, with warts covering them like a toad. Aside from their embarrassment, they seemed unharmed, however. 

James paused the group momentarily as they herded the afflicted children into a cluster. 

“It’s gotta be Rosier,” Micheal accused.

With a frown, Frank assessed the mismatched group of students. “Why would Rosier want to target you?” he asked. 

Micheal muttered incoherently. “I’m just saying…” he trailed off.

“Alright, we’re going to the Hospital Wing. James—I’ll catch up with you after," Frank dismissed.

Sirius and Peter split up to see if they could find any other Gryffindors loitering in the hallways or library, so James alone guided the rest of the students to the Gryffindor Tower. Opening the door to the common room, James was glad to see Lily on the couch reading. Marlene sat on the opposite end, scratching on a piece of parchment with a quill. At the loud commotion, their eyes flashed up to him in unison. 

He couldn’t bring himself to wake Remus up for this. The days after his transformations were always hard, and this seemed to be just a particularly gruesome prank. 

“Frank got me to bring everyone here,” he explained, sitting on a chair near the girls as he began to describe the events that took place. "He wants the House all together until we know what's going on, just in case more people get affected."  

Marlene had one eyebrow raised by the end of it, face contorted in amusement and horror. More alarmingly, Lily seemed completely unbothered. 

“Hm,” was all she responded, closing her book and setting it aside. She brushed a piece of lint off of her skirt.  

“Micheal thinks Rosier did it,” James disclosed, leaning forward a bit. “I think we should tell McGonagall what he said. He wouldn’t say why, but it’d just be like a snake to do something like this.”

Lily cocked an eyebrow at him. “It sounds like an unfounded accusation to me.” 

James blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

“He has no evidence to tie this to Slytherin at all," Lily held her ground. "They weren’t even present, according to you.”

Was Lily defending Slytherin? What was going on?

“Micheal was being awful to Violet last night,“ Marlene chimed in suddenly. “He and his friends brought her to tears—they told her that her mum killed herself just to get away from her family.”

“They said what?” Lily snapped angrily, twisting in her seat to look at her friend. “Why didn’t you tell me that?!”

“I thought you knew,” Marlene defended herself, reeling back slightly. “You told me you found her crying after hours, and you gave all those boys detentions this morning! I imagined she would have told you!”

“I—she didn’t tell me that!” Lily sputtered, face reddening. 

James' heart shattered thinking of the blonde girl who chatted with Remus every chance she got. Many of the younger students were scared of him—even his grandpa sweaters and calm temperament couldn’t convince some people to look past his scars. He knew how much it meant to Remus to be treated like he was normal or, beyond that, like he was liked by someone like Violet. 

James couldn’t believe that someone would say that to an eleven-year-old... 

Beside him, Lily was biting her lip tightly, looking pensive.

“What is it, Lils?” Marlene coaxed gently, her hand rubbing her knee sympathetically.

“I was doing rounds with Regulus Black last night,” Lily admitted, voice hushed. “That’s why she didn’t say anything, I'd bet; she didn’t want him to know how bad it was. If they did do this, just based on what she had told us last night, who knows what they would’ve done if they knew the truth.”

James perked up at Regulus' name. He was the one who conducted this? In the defence of little Violet?  

“You can’t try to avenge this,” Lily impressed upon him, looking at him with wide eyes. They were such a light tone of green they seemed almost unnatural, similar to Regulus’ grey. James nodded his head in agreement. Hell, he had half a mind to reconsider Micheal’s place on the team if this was the sort of person he was himself; he didn't feel drawn to seek revenge at all.  

“No, this will stay between us,” he confirmed. 

James sat back in his seat, looking down at his hands thoughtfully—it was a lot to process. When he glanced back up, he was startled to find both girls still looking at him. “Er—yes?” he asked anxiously. 

“You feeling alright?” Marlene questioned, eyebrows furrowed.  

“Yeah…”

“You sure? Because this is uncharacteristically mature of you,” Marlene declared, blowing a bubble and popping it with a sharp 'pop.' 

He frowned. “I’m mature.” James sat up in his seat, straightening the glasses on his face self-consciously. Lily and Marlene both laughed.

“Right,” Lily teased, pushing herself up off the couch with a smile. “I better go tell McGonagall what happened. I don’t think anyone else will be affected, so hopefully, we’ll be let out of here sooner than later.”

In her absence, Marlene gave him a cheeky look. “She didn’t even tell you off. That was some good progress, Jamie.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah…”

He supposed that did go a bit better than normal.

. . .

James arrived at the room at seven-thirty sharp, having darted there the moment Frank declared their freedom to leave. 

Peter had looked at him knowingly but didn’t say anything. His prolonged absences weren’t escaping notice anymore. Sirius was too busy doting on Remus to care much tonight, though. 

Ever since The Prank last year, Sirius had been walking on eggshells around him. It had taken several months for Moony to let any of them join him on full moons again, and even longer for Padfoot. He finally caved after several dramatic and emotional apologies from Sirius, but it still wasn't really the same. 

One evening over the summer, Remus admitted to James that he didn’t think he could ever trust Sirius again but that he was too cowardly to cut him off completely.

It altered the dynamic of the Marauders entirely. Sirius was all too willing to walk around with his literal and proverbial tail between his legs, but it was hard to watch. He never gave an inch in his life, not even with his cold-hearted mother, and certainly not with anyone else. For him to be constantly second-guessing himself to try to please Remus felt foul.

James was both of their friends, though.

He knew Sirius had been on edge last year. Sirius had always had a bad temper, and when he snapped, sometimes he didn't seem to think at all. His parents were writing to him about potential betrothals, and their patience had been quickly waning. Sirius had been drowning under their expectations, and Snivellus had been frustratingly present in the days prior, sneaking around and spying on them as if they wouldn't notice. He knew Sirius wasn’t thinking clearly—that he hadn’t wanted to hurt Remus.

He also knew that Remus faced his worst fear that night—he had almost become the monster society told him he was. He had almost killed someone, and it wasn’t just the possible consequences that had scared him. He loved school—it would’ve ruined him to be expelled—but if he had hurt Severus, he would’ve brought himself to Azkaban’s doorstep of his own volition. The person he always tried hardest to convince that he wasn’t a monster was himself, and that night, he was proven wrong. 

Sometimes, just living with himself seemed like too big of a weight for him to carry. 

He and Peter had spent almost the entire term doing damage control. They divided their time between their friends, taking turns with each of them, especially in the first week. They made sure Remus was never alone, as hard as he tried to be, and that Sirius never fell into the trap of self-fulfilling the prophecy of his last name. 

It turned out okay, in the end.

Snivelly wasn’t hurt. Sirius accepted he made a mistake, and didn’t let it define him. Remus wasn’t expelled, and he hadn't hurt anybody. And most importantly, no one else found out about Moony’s secret.

Sniv wasn’t happy about it. He had argued and thrown a tantrum when it had been determined that Remus was here to stay, but with minimal pressure from Dumbledore, he’d agreed to secrecy, unwilling for his parents to be involved.

Remus never approached the other boy, giving him space instead, but his regret was carried with him everywhere. He grew broody when they sent a Tripping Jinx or Jelly-Legs towards the git now, no matter how deserving of it he might’ve been, trying to guilt trip them into stopping.

"Whose he got, James?" Regulus' voice asked.

He knew that Sniv couldn’t have told Lily about the Shrieking Shack. His parents didn’t know, obviously, and... well, who else even was there? Who did Severus have, when James and Peter were tending to Remus and Sirius hand and foot?

He paused for a moment.  

Fuck. Was he a bully?

He didn’t let himself think about it any longer before opening the door to the Muggle Room. 

The first thing he noticed was that it had been rearranged. The telly was moved to the middle of the room, a plush-looking loveseat in front of it. The fireplace was to the left now, a roaring fire already going, making the whole room feel cosy and warm. 

The second thing he noticed was Regulus, not far from the entrance, standing stiffly. 

“Wow! Brilliant!” James exclaimed, moving in closer to examine the set-up. Regulus remained still as a statue as he assessed the changes to the space.

The new couch was a soft velvet, a peachy-pink sort of colour. Throw blankets were folded over the armrests, and a plump bench for a footstool in front of it. The telly itself looked bigger and was on a new stand with a strange little box below it. On either side were cabinets filled with those tapes. 

“I was just thinking of our normal room—I’m not sure what happened,” Regulus said from the side. “But er—I thought maybe we could try watching a movie tonight?”

James turned around, giving him a huge grin. “We’ve gotta work out the limits of this room soon. It’s quite intuitive, isn’t it? Very complex charms and transfiguration…” He pondered on the subject for a moment, brain working overtime to try to figure it out. He had the urge to leave The Room right then—to try to imagine something differently, like a Quidditch Pitch or kitchen, and see what would happen. What Regulus had said clicked suddenly, though, and he realised he was watching him, eyes shadowed as he waited for his response. 

“Oh, movie—right!” James repeated, turning to look at the new set-up. “I still don’t know how to work it,” he admitted a bit abashedly. 

He had decided to ask Remus about it weeks ago. His mind was always forgetting things he meant to do, however, and getting distracted by shiny objects at the rate of a Niffler. 

“If you pick out a VHS, I can put it on,” Regulus stated, gesturing to the cabinet. James looked at him uncertainly.

“I don’t think... Well, sure. If you want.” Remembering the horns piercing through Micheal’s scalp earlier today, telling Regulus Black he might not be able to do something didn't seem like the wisest course of action. 

There were tons of tapes to choose from. “VHS?” he questioned after a moment, grabbing a couple at random. 

“Yes, that’s the names of the tapes. And this is the television. And this is a VCR,” he explained slowly, not like he was showing off, just that he was stating facts as he moved from object to object. “Telly is Muggle slang for it. TV as well.”

James was impressed. Regulus was an avid reader, it turned out, and had quickly turned to non-fiction following The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. He must’ve found a manual or something, James figured.

Regulus had the smallest of smiles on his face as he ran his finger over the buttons of the ‘television’ gently, his straight nose highlighted by the firelight and long lashes on full display. He looked proud of himself.

James had to force himself to look away, feeling a bit flushed.

“This looks fun,” he decided finally, passing over the animated tape. He knew Regulus couldn’t know about his Animagus form, but he was drawn to the little fawn on the cover. A light-hearted kids' movie was a good starting point regardless, he was sure.

“Bambi,” Regulus read out loud, lip curving up a bit more at the cover. 

James settled on the couch comfortably, pulling a quilt over his lap and putting his feet up as Regulus very seriously set up the movie. He’d abandoned his cloak before James had arrived, and his white dress shirt was tucked loosely into his black trousers. As he squatted down to push a few buttons on the VCR and TV, James found his eyes wandering down the curve of his lower back to where his waist narrowed to a cinch. 

If Walburga and Orion only did one thing right, it was buying their son perfectly tailored pants.

He glanced away guiltily when Regulus stood up suddenly, brushing off his thighs, completely ignorant of James drooling.

Sirius’ brother, Sirius’ brother. Sirius’ brother—

“All ready to go,” Regulus said with a bashful smile, his hair falling in perfect waves around his face. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone to show off his long neck, Adam’s Apple bobbing with each word. 

SIRIUS’ BROTHER, James reprimanded himself. He’d been noticing all sorts of things about Regulus lately, but this was feeling out of control. He wanted him to look at him more; he wanted his attention. His brain was acting all stupid like it used to get with Lily. 

He loosened his tie, pushing his sleeves up on his shirt to free his forearms as the temperature in the room seemed to increase. Maybe the blanket was a bad idea, but it felt dangerous to remove at that very moment. 

Regulus sat on the couch beside him, back straight and feet on the floor. If he had sat any further from James, he would’ve been on the ground. 

That wouldn’t do at all.

Not bothering to be inconspicuous, he shuffled closer to Regulus’ half, scooting down on the cushion so he was comfortably slumped. He glanced over to Reg, who, after a moment’s hesitation, slouched a bit further in the seat as well, putting his feet up on the bench beside James'. 

They still weren’t very near each other—not an inch of them was touching—but James longed for the contact. There wasn’t any way to initiate it without it seeming like he was coming onto him, though, so he accepted this was as good as it’d get and focused his eyes on the screen as melodic music began to play. 

“This is a lot of reading?” he commented, attention faltering as the title sequence began.

“Sh!” Regulus hushed. He was frowning at the screen, the pink of his tongue pushed out between his teeth. James bit back a laugh at his look of concentration. 

When the little fawn came on the screen, stumbling around on unsteady legs, James' heart soared. He was enthralled. The way Bambi walked, the way all the animals and their babies greeted The Prince, the way his mum cared for him and supported him... it was adorable. He stole a glance over to Reg quickly to make sure he was paying attention. His eyes were lit up by the television screen; his mouth curved in an amused smile. 

James wished momentarily that his mum was here with them so he could show her the movie. She would love it, he knew. Probably as much as he was. 

“You’re Thumper,” Regulus said suddenly, looking at James' bouncing leg with a smirk. James steadied it automatically, forcing his heel onto the ground, but Reg just gave him a shrug. “I don’t mind,” he said gently, turning back to the movie.

James didn’t think his grin could get any bigger, but it did.

“If I’m Thumper, I guess that makes you Bambi,” he teased. All legs, and those big, innocent eyes... Regulus was even a prince, in a modern sort of sense. 

Yeah, definitely Bambi, he thought, delighted.

Soon, it was wintertime, and James found himself laughing again at Bambi’s antics. The pictures were beautiful; he couldn't believe how talented Muggle artists were. It really was a cute movie. He grinned at Bambi slipping and sliding all over the place on the ice, just like when he was a newborn. The first signs of spring appeared, blades of grass poking out through the snow. They stopped to eat, but then—

He froze, watching the screen in disbelief. He couldn’t even breathe. His pulse thrummed in his ears, his eyes burning.  

She couldn’t—they couldn’t have...

Bambi’s mum couldn’t be dead.

James' chest ached, his lungs growing tight, and pressure building up in his head. He watched as Bambi desperately ran and ran, but he couldn’t find his mum. She was gone. He glanced over at Regulus, who was staring at the screen, eyes wide and mouth dropped open in horror. His jaw clamped shut as he looked over at James. 

“James," he said worriedly. James realised tears were running down his face. He wasn’t sure when they started, but he couldn’t stop them. 

“Bambi’s mum...“ he said sadly, a whole new wave of emotion overwhelming him. 

He was all alone in the world now.

Merlin, what would he do if he ever lost his mum? James wanted to write, wanted to Firecall her right then to make sure she was well. 

“Bambi’s okay! See James—his dad found him. The Forest Prince!” Regulus was trying to console, face distressed. He kept reaching towards James and pulling back, like he wasn’t sure what to do. 

“But his mum is dead! The Muggles killed her!” he said, distraught. 

“They were just hunting, James. Like—like how we eat pig or cow! Or chicken!”

“They are going to eat Bambi’s mum!?” he cried, outraged, his body revolting so badly against the idea he stopped crying entirely for a moment. She was a mother, he thought in disgust. How could they?

“For Merlin’s sake," Regulus swore before bringing an arm up as if to pat his shoulder. James scooted a bit closer to him, so it fell over his back instead, pushing himself against him in a hug. He tucked his head into the crook of Regulus' neck, taking a deep breath. Regulus' arm was loose around his shoulders, and he was far too tense, but it was nice all the same. After a moment, Regulus brought his other arm up, stiffly completing the embrace. 

“Bambi’s okay, see? Look at the screen. He’s almost all grown up now.”

Obediently, James looked at the screen, watching as teenage Bambi navigated his life, happy and healthy. He took a few deep breaths, the pain in his sternum fading away. He tried to remind himself it wasn't real; it was just a Muggle movie.

I am never going to live this down, he realised belatedly. He wiped his face clear of moisture and straightened his glasses. 

As Regulus released him, James readjusted to face the screen again, but remained pressed up against his side. Regulus settled into their new position easily, not complaining about James half-leaning on him and smothering him into the corner of the couch. He tried to focus on the movie and forget what had just happened, letting the story distract him.

But then, some other stag started cornering Bambi’s girl, intentions obviously malicious.

“Is he...?" James voiced, horrified, as Regulus tensed beside him. He didn’t even breathe until Bambi had fought him off.

“This cannot be a children’s movie,” James said in disbelief. “I must’ve read it wrong.”

And then Man came back to the forest again to hunt them...

“Where are all the predators!” James cried out. “Why can’t a pack of wolves or something defend them!!”

And then the Muggles’ dogs came and began attacking Bambi...

“Y’know what? Fuck this movie. I don’t want to watch it anymore.”

He closed his eyes determinedly. 

“Look, look! Bambi’s winning!” Regulus said, nudging James in the ribs. He peeked them open again.

Almost immediately, Bambi fell to the ground in exhaustion. And then a forest fire started. 

Regulus slouched down slightly beside him.

Serves you right, James thought triumphantly. They watched in silence as the last few scenes unfolded, most of the animals seeming okay. The animations depicted the forest regenerating and Bambi siring a set of twin fawns, finishing with him watching over the forest as its new guardian.

“See, it all turned out okay,” Regulus said as the movie faded out. “Everyone’s okay.”

“Not Bambi’s mom,” James said petulantly. After a pause, he felt Regulus sigh.

“No, not Bambi’s mom,” he admitted. “And not that other bird they shot either, I guess.” And then, for the first time in his life, James heard Regulus laugh. As more writing filled the screen, he spun to face him, scandalised.

“This is what makes you laugh?” 

Regulus laughed a bit harder, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. His nose was scrunched adorably, his eyes crinkled at the corners and gleaming with amusement. “Muggle movies are horrible!” he gasped. His laughter was contagious, and after a moment, James felt himself joining in, the lingering tension and stress from the movie slowly dissipating.

"We can never talk about that again," he said, pulling his glasses off to wipe the lenses where they had gotten smudged by his tears. 

Regulus was looking at him playfully when he put them back on. “Why, James? Because you cried,” he taunted evilly. 

“Hey!” James defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was just a little bit. And it was sad! Sorry I actually have a heart.”

Regulus smirked at him, and James knew he could’ve made fun of him a lot more, but he let it go. “You were asking for a pack of wolves to eat the Muggles at one point,” he commented airily. 

James shrugged. “I stand by that. Those were the bad sort of Muggles, obviously.”

Regulus let out a soft laugh, a lingering smile remaining on his lips. “Alright, James,” he agreed gently, his eyes smoothed out at the edges and happy. 

James froze at the uncharacteristically open expression. 

Shit, he really liked Regulus. Like, actually liked him.

Chapter Text

The second weekend in October arrived quickly, along with it the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. 

Evan had organised a study group the night before to make sure no one would have an excuse to skive. The only person who really benefitted from it was him, but Regulus would never point that out. Like himself, Barty was naturally gifted and didn't need to try very hard to make good grades. This year might be a bit different, though—the psychopath was taking twelve O.W.L.s. He was almost certain to be drowning in coursework no matter how intelligent he was. It shouldn't even be possible to take that many courses, but when Regulus had pointed that out, Barty simply gave him a wink, mysteriously stating he 'had his ways.'

And, apparently, he did, because a textbook from every subject was piled at the foot of his bed. 

Over the summer, Barty had gotten into an argument with his dad. That wasn't uncommon in their relationship—bad attention was better than no attention, as far as Barty was concerned—but something new had happened. His dad had called him ‘stupid’, and if there was anything that Barty was not, it was that.

Barty was dedicated to proving him wrong. He acted as if it was out of spite, but Regulus saw right through it. He was as desperate as any child to earn his parent's approval. Barty had told his father that he was only doing the bare minimum of three O.W.L.s that year. He’d keep the stunt up all year, maintain a poker face every time he was belittled, and then at the end of the year…

"BAM! Twelve O.W.L.s!" Barty exclaimed excitedly, throwing his arms up in the air, nearly hitting Dorcas on the chin. She pushed him away roughly as they walked, her face torn between annoyance and amusement. "And I’ll have done it all on my own, no help from him at all."

“I still don’t understand how they even let you enrol in all the courses?” Pandora wondered.

“Or how you can even attend them!” Dorcas pointed out.

Evan and Regulus exchanged a look over the others' heads, already knowing what was coming.  

“I have my ways,” Barty said simply, smiling to himself. 

“Enough about school,” Dorcas said, giving the group a mischievous smile. “I want to know how your date went, Pandora! That’s the third one, wasn’t it?” 

“It was dreamy,” she sighed happily, tilting her face to the sky. She looked as if she were floating as she gave a joyful skip, her toes peeking out from beneath her long skirt. Flitwick had tried to insist that Pandora wear shoes in her earlier years, but she’d refused, instead switching to long robes and skirts to mask it. After several years, he simply feigned ignorance. Pandora insisted it was healthier for a witch’s magic to stay connected to the earth. “He was a complete gentleman!”

“What was his name again?”

Evan and Pandora were cousins, but their parents weren’t in contact. Pandora’s father had spent most of his life overseas, learning about other cultures before returning to claim his inheritance and start a family. Evan’s father had maintained the family’s dark traditions but didn’t inherit much of anything else, despite having stayed by their parents' sides until their deaths.

The animosity between the brothers, as Evan told the story, was irreparable. 

Pandora and Evan hadn’t even met until Hogwarts. She was two years older than they were and the type of person everyone got along with. She was perhaps the only student who had friends in all four Houses. She was busy, having as many friends as she did, but she usually made an effort to see Evan whenever he asked. Regulus suspected it was from guilt more these days than anything else; her thoughts on Dark Wizards were obvious—despite being a Pureblood herself and a Rosier, their similarities ended there.

Either Evan didn’t realise the distance that had been growing, or he didn’t care. Either way, Regulus wasn’t going to bring it up.

“Xenophilius Lovegood,” she said. 

Barty and Dorcas shrieked with laughter, earning a look of disgust from a group of Ravenclaws passing by.

“Doesn’t that mean he loves animals or something?” Dorcas snorted, sending Barty into a whole other fit. Evan hid his laugh behind a poorly disguised cough, trying and failing to stay out of their antics. 

“Strange love,” Regulus said, not raising his voice, but the group quieted to listen anyway. He'd looked it up the first time Pandora had gone out with him. “Or one who loves the strange.” Fitting, it seemed, as Pandora was the strangest person he knew. Wonderful and kind, but strange. 

“Wow, that’s…” Dorcas said, looking at Pandora with her eyebrows raised. Inevitable. Fateful. Destined. Regulus could think of a hundred words that could describe the coincidence of names in the apparent star-crossed lovers. 

“He’s very gentle,” Pandora continued as if nothing had interrupted her. “He’s a writer, wants to start his own paper. Quite gifted, really.”

“That’s amazing,” Evan said, pulling her under his arm into a hug. "I'm happy for you."

“Thank you!” she beamed. “You’ll find your twin flame one day too, I know it.”

“Twin flame, huh,” Dorcas said. Her braids were pulled up in a large bun atop her head today, with just two strands left out to frame her face. “It’s serious then?”

Pandora smiled to herself. “I think when you know, you know,” she said. “Loving him is easy. It’s like breathing air or drinking water. And he makes me feel easy to love.”

Regulus kept his gaze on the ground as they walked. The day was cold, and despite layering a jumper under his waistcoat and cloak, he could still feel the chill creeping into his bones. He’d even tugged a flat cap over his ears for a bit more warmth, but it was all in vain. Shivering slightly, he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

He was happy for Pandora, but he also felt a twinge of something bitter, something jealous. Love wasn’t natural to him. It wasn’t safe, or easy. Regulus wasn’t even entirely sure that he believed it existed. There were moments in his life when he thought he had felt it, but…

It always ended—it always went away. It always turned into pain.

He was broken. Some fundamental part of him never formed—whatever it was inside of others that made people love them, made people want to care for them, was missing. He craved touch, craved connection, but he could never attain it. It felt like he was on one side of a glass wall, and everyone else was on the other. He could see them, and watch them, but he could never be with them. He could never be like them. He didn’t know how to make people love him. 

He didn’t even know how to love other people, really. 

Suddenly, he felt as if he were very far away. 

As if he had a sixth sense for it, Evan dropped back from the rest of the group to walk at Regulus' side. 

"I’m glad you came," he said. Regulus nodded in quiet acknowledgement.

It had been a battle to get him to. Regulus had adamantly refused at first. He'd opened his eyes, and it's been 'one of those days', the sort of day he wanted to stay in bed and not do much of anything. The sort of day he felt like he couldn't do much of anything. Evan had just ripped his blankets off and thrown clothes at him until he agreed, though. 

Evan was a good friend.

Hogsmeade was bustling with excited students filling the streets and crowding into the shops when they finally reached the village. Semi-familiar faces passed by as they wandered, the smell of spicy cider and warm Butterbeer heavy in the air. Regulus trailed his friends, following them inside stores only for a moment's reprieve from the cold. Zonko's had been too much, though; Regulus had barely stepped inside before deciding he would rather freeze.

Barty had just joined him on the bench, slumping into the space next to him, when Regulus caught sight of him.

James. 

He wore a Muggle hat that looked much warmer than Regulus' own, and was decked out in a burgundy sweater and jeans. Fingerless gloves adorned his hands, and he looked comfortable in just that despite the weather. 

He was walking with his friends, except it was a different group than normal. Sirius was missing, and instead, Lily and Marlene were at his side, chatting happily. Behind them were Remus and Peter. They all wore Muggle clothing, standing out from the crowd around them, which seemed to part for their group.

They all looked so cool. And happy. And care-free. 

Regulus' chest flared, his throat tightening painfully as he watched them.

He hated it.

Regulus tried to let it go. Hanging out with James was meaningless—he knew it from the start. James would never like him, never want to be friends with someone like him. The Room was an unexpected arrangement, but once James lost interest, he’d be gone. There isn't anything to be jealous about, he scolded himself. 

He was about to look away when James glanced at him, a playful grin turning up on his face as their eyes met.

Then Remus caught his gaze, offering a nod.

And then, before Regulus knew it, Lily looked over as well, her smile radiant and kind before she glanced back to her friends.

They’d all done it out of sync, unknown even to each other. Regulus felt his brow furrow. Had he become someone that people notice? It obviously wasn’t just due to him being the Heir now like it was with his family—none of them cared about that. But then why did they notice him?

It wasn’t right. It made him feel itchy and uncomfortable and wrong. 

It was—

“Weird,” Barty commented beside him, watching as the Gryffindors continued on their way towards the castle. Regulus glanced over, but Barty's gaze didn't waver from them. “Constant vigilance—that’s what my dad always fucking says. Got it drilled into my skull now,” Barty rattled on. “Auror training stuff. I get the intention, but it feels a bit overkill sometimes…”

“My family can’t know,” Regulus said, his voice steady, but inside, his heart was beating against his chest wall, threatening to break out. Can’t know what? That some of Sirius’ friends acknowledged him? That he did his Prefect rounds with a Mudblood? None of it, they can’t know any of it, his panic demanded.

He was just glad they had the sense not to approach him where anyone could’ve seen.

“I know, Reg,” Barty said after a pause, voice soft. “I would never do that to you.”

Regulus sat in his reassurance, running the words over in his head as he tried to settle his nerves. 

“I know my head’s messed up a bit,” Barty said after a minute. “I know you and Evan… you don’t think you can trust me, or whatever. But I love you guys. You’re all I have. I hate my dad. He’s never around, and when he is—it’s awful. He hated me before, but when I got sorted into Slytherin, it’s like I never even had a chance after that."

Regulus nodded, more aware than Barty realised what things were like at home for him. 

"He told the Aurors to use Unforgivables now—did you know that? If they ever run into Evan’s dad, or your cousins, or anyone that’s Marked, he wants them to 'kill, not capture.' No matter what they are doing, how old they are, anything! How messed up is that? People act like there’s a good side and bad side in this war, but how can he possibly be the good side? He isn’t. He just isn’t! There isn’t a good side," Barty snarled.

“I know where you and Evan are heading, and I’m not planning on leaving you. I’d love for my dad to have to look me in the eyes and take his own advice. See how it feels.”

Regulus' eyes widened in alarm. “Barty…”

Barty laughed then, sharp and abrupt. “It’s fine, mate. You don’t have to say it. Just know I’ve always got your back, no matter what. You never have any reason to doubt me. I won't leave your side.”

The silence felt heavy after Barty's proclamation. He wasn't sure what to say. Regulus didn’t want Barty to end up in Azkaban or, worse, dead, but his loyalty was comforting. He was selfish, maybe, for not wanting to be alone—but he didn’t want to be. The thought terrified him. 

“And I know you’re gay.”

Regulus’ spine straightened suddenly, his stomach dropping to the ground. He glanced around frantically, his panic only easing slightly when he found them to be alone. At his side, Barty slapped his hands over his face, cursing loudly.

“Fuckin' impulse control! Evan’s always talking to me about that. I’m sorry, Reg—I meant that in a good way. In a ‘it’s fine’ way. I don’t care, obviously." He shook his head, muttering to himself incomprehensibly for a moment.  "Fuck, I should not have said that.”

“You aren’t making your case very well about secret-keeping,” Regulus said dryly. 

Barty let out an exasperated sigh, sinking down until he was hardly sitting on the bench anymore. “There’s no one else around. I wouldn’t have done that if there was, I promise. My brain's just one to one hundred sometimes, and I've been thinking about that A LOT since we sat down. I just wasn't sure how to bring it up.”

Slowly, the shock wore off, leaving Regulus' feeling tired. He knew Barty didn’t care. Merlin, Barty was likely to fuck anyone with a pulse if he got the chance, gender aside, based on the way he spoke. It wasn’t like he’d the first gay Black anyway—paramours were a reality of arranged marriages. It just had to be kept behind closed doors and away from the public's eye.  

“How’d you know?” he asked after a moment. 

"Constant vigilance," Barty said with a shit-eating grin. “I’ve caught your wandering eye before… and I’m not actually an idiot, y’know.”

Regulus sighed, his tense muscles relaxing slightly. “No, you're not," he conceded. Barty was too clever for his own good sometimes; Regulus knew he was just trying to be supportive. "You’re about to be the first student to get twelve O.W.L.s,” he said matter-of-factually. 

Barty howled, “That’s right!”. 

And Regulus believed him. He was crazy enough to do it.

. . .

The rest of the Hogsmeade visit passed by in a blur, finishing at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. It was horrible inside, with cheap-looking frills and unsightly pinks thrown together, but she did have the best tea. During a date there in her early years, Pandora had grown fond of one of her chocolate-raspberry blends, and, quite unfortunately, introduced it to the group. 

They all grew obsessed.

As a result, they were forced to darken the cafe’s doorstep at every opportunity for a warm cup of her infamous blend. Regulus had once tried to purchase her entire stock of it so they would never have to visit her again during their Hogwarts years, but it seemed she always had on hand just the perfect amount to last them until the next visit. 

A very Slytherin ploy, if he’d ever seen one. 

Regulus' eyes found Sirius the moment he stepped into the building. He was on a date with Mary, a seventh-year Gryffindor, who very notably was not of Pureblood Status. 

His anxiety spiked for a moment, fear of the fallout when their parents found out habit from when he’d been young. But, the realisation that Sirius was no longer a part of the family brought with it a wave of relief. Sirius now got to live his life freely, without consequence. There would be no Howlers coming his way. No screaming matches with their mother, or her constant efforts to find him a 'suitable companion.' Regulus wouldn’t have to listen to the upset cries and slamming doors that used to fill their house for days on end or, worse, be forced into their arguments and analysed in the worst ways.

Sirius seemed shocked to see him there, never well-trained in masking his emotions. It likely was quite an odd sight, dreary and borderline-Gothic Regulus standing amid everything tacky and cute, but the tea was incomparable. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, and the only part of the Hogsmeade trip he’d been looking forward to. 

With even more evidence of being a Slytherin, Madam Puddifoot greeted them with vigour, calling them by name and levitating a couple of tables together so the group had a spot to sit amongst all the happy couples. Regulus could feel Sirius burning a hole into the back of his head, but he ignored it—after several years of support, any store owner would make such efforts. And what he did was none of his brother's business anyway—Sirius had made it quite clear he didn't care about him long before he had even run away. 

Despite the unsightly interior, the tea shoppe provided another benefit that the Three Broomsticks or Hogs Head lacked—privacy. It was always just couples there, too busy kissing and swooning and holding hands to pay attention to their ragtag group. 

“There’s a new blend I think you would adore,” Madam Puddifoot said, using intricate charms behind the counter to put together five cups. “It’s a chocolate base, with blueberry and lavender undertones!”

His parents would say it isn’t even tea. Regulus didn’t particularly care; trying the first sip, it was delicious. 

“And with the cold weather moving in, you are best to take home some of the seasonal apple blend I have just gotten ready. Overtones of cinnamon, of course, and just a slight undercurrent of ginger.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t have anything with cinnamon,” Sirius interjected from his table. Mary was looking at him as if she was trying to catch him on fire with her eyes. Regulus had to agree with her—they were on a date together, after all. The least Sirius could do was look at her.   

Madam Puddifoot gave him a scornful glance. “The day you bring the same girl in here twice, is the day I’ll make special allowances for you, Mr. Black. It’s not ready for retail yet, but for you kids," she said, glancing back to their table. "I will make an exception.”

Regulus hid his smile behind a sip of tea. It was not very often Sirius couldn’t woo someone, or receive special privilege. It was unheard of that Regulus could where he could not. Sirius looked shocked at the outcome, something like satisfaction flickering in Regulus' chest at the sight. 

Madam Puddifoot was a sucker for happily-ever-after. She wanted to watch couples go from their first date to their deathbeds together. Legend has it that after rejecting a proposal in her shoppe, Professor McGonagall and her suitor received lifetime bans. Perhaps it was just a rumour, but Regulus never had seen her there. 

No one had really come for dates except Pandora, but they all remained regular customers throughout the years. Regulus had a suspicion Madam Puddifoot was just frothing at the mouth for the day one of them brought in a significant other.  

Regulus paid for everyone’s tea and take-home satchels of their favourite blends, including, of course, the infamous Chocolate-Raspberry. It had been more than just an okay day, after all, he had to admit. He was glad Evan had dragged him out of bed this morning.

. . .

Back at Hogwarts, while his friends went outside to go flying at sunset, Regulus trudged to the Great Hall. 

As a Prefect, he was expected to help decorate for each holiday. Other students were able to help to earn House Points, but walking towards Celeste in the Great Hall, it seemed she was as unsuccessful as he was at convincing her friends to do so. 

“The pumpkins are over there for us,” she said blandly, pointing to a towering mountain of pumpkins which sat in the corner near the professors' table. 

“Okay,” he said simply, well accustomed to her passive-aggressive anger by now. Like with all their forced encounters, he was prepared to spend the next few hours in silence, weathering her glares and occasional snarks.

They sat down at the end of the table, methodically levitating the pumpkins to themselves and charming them into Jack-O-Lanterns. The first few he did were simple triangle eyes and sharp smiles, but as time passed, he got more creative. He gave one of them large fangs. The next one received pointed ears and an ‘o’ shaped mouth reminiscent of a werewolf howling. He certainly wasn’t an artist, but the scowling Jack-O-Lantern with smoke charmed to puff out of his ears in timed intervals he thought turned out quite good. 

Regulus was working on a fawn, reminiscent of Bambi and the nickname that seemed to have stuck around for himself, when Celeste huffed angrily at him. All her pumpkins looked cross-eyed and quite ill. He didn’t comment but found himself at the wrong end of her wrath anyway. 

“What?” she snapped angrily at him, daring him to speak. He just shook his head.

“Nothing, Celeste,” he said tiredly. He muttered the incantation to send his Bambi flying up to the ceiling to float around with the others.

On cue, Remus and Lily arrived. He had noticed their names listed beside Celeste’s and his own that morning. They waved to the two younger Prefects briskly before focusing on their work. They moved from wall to wall in the Great Hall, casting spells together to adjust the ambience. Slowly, the room was transformed, filling with warm lighting reminiscent of a sunset or light pouring through a canopy of golden and red leaves.

“That’s disgusting,” Celeste snapped at him. Regulus looked at his most recent masterpiece appraisingly. Instead of vanishing the pumpkin's guts, he had pulled them out of the monstrosity to hang so it looked like he had vomit or entrails hanging from its mouth. 

He sighed and, with a flick of his wand, vanished them. Better?

Remus and Lily were finishing up their task, having almost completely circled the room. Both of them were skilled at Ambient Magic; the Hall looked better than ever. It was reminiscent of walking through a colourful forest on a fall day now; even the air felt crisp in Regulus' lungs. 

Thinking of Remus, his next Jack-O-Lantern he tried to shape into one of those rocket ships he'd read about. The fire coming out of the end moved with powerful vibrations, although the design itself remained stationary. He was rather proud of that one, his mouth quirking up at one corner when he'd finished. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Celeste's lip was curled in disgust, her eyes locked on his work. He frowned at it—perhaps carving Muggle things into pumpkins wasn’t the best idea he’d had. It didn’t seem like a horrible indiscretion, but if it got back to his parents, it’d certainly raise some red flags. Wordlessly, he cut out the image entirely, so just a circular hole was left in its wake. 

It could be a sad rendition of the moon, he thought morbidly, levitating it up to the ceiling. 

Celeste slammed both her hands on the table in closed fists. Regulus startled at the sudden loud noise.

“Why don’t you react to ANYTHING!” she yelled in frustration. “I am not going to marry you!”

Regulus froze, eyes wide and unable to put back on the mask he so easily donned most of the day. Lily and Remus were staring at their table in mirrored shock. “What?” he asked rather unbecomingly. 

"Pardon, not what?" his mother’s voice scolded him. 

What Celeste said registered suddenly, and he felt panic rising in his chest. “Did your parents say something to you?” he demanded. Fuck, he thought he’d have a couple more years, at least! His cousins were all seventeen when they’d been married; even Sirius would’ve been seventeen by the time they had the ceremony if he hadn’t left.

"You’re the Heir now, Regulus," Orion’s voice rumbled. 

Celeste looked furious. “No, but I am not an idiot. I was never going to marry that wretched brother of yours, and I certainly am not going to be sold off to you like some cow! I know how your family is, and I will have no part of it, Heir Black,” she finished off with a snarl, saying it like it was a curse word. 

“They haven’t said anything,” he said, hating that his voice sounded tight. He put up Occlumency shields in his mind, shoving things back into boxes to be dealt with when he was alone. Now was not the time for a panic attack. “Are you sure they haven’t said anything to you?” he questioned, relieved when his voice came out better controlled. He didn’t dare release his hands, however, hidden from sight under his thighs.

“No, they haven’t.” She held eye contact with him, not bothering to be subtle in how she examined him for signs of untruthfulness. “I just assumed, since you're the Heir now…” 

“I’ve been Heir for not even four months,” he said a bit pathetically. 

“It’s your duty." Her expression softened as she examined him. “Sirius said you weren’t the same as him. He said you wouldn’t say no.”

Regulus blinked at her, pieces coming together. She and Sirius must have planned to reject the betrothal together; it was the only thing that made sense. 

"The bloodline will die with you, Sirius! Generations of Blacks, of POWER, all to waste because of your selfishness!"

"I’m not going to do it! You can tell the Delacours I reject their offer. I’m never going to marry some dim-witted SLYTHERIN. I’m never going to marry any Pureblood at all! You can stop with the courting and betrothals because I AM NEVER GOING TO DO IT. When I marry, it’ll be for love. Fuck you and this family’s obsession with purity and politics! IT DISGUSTS ME. YOU DISGUST ME! I wish I was never born into this family—" 

"CRUCIO—"

“You’ve been acting like this so I hate you,” Regulus stated. 

Celeste’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Sirius said you were like them. That you’d be happy to have me.” He knew what she meant by ‘have’. In arranged marriages, the woman’s role was nothing more than to produce heirs. Aside from Andy, who’d taken things into her own hands, none of his cousins were even allowed to work or pursue further education. Of course, that was at the discretion of their husbands now, and not their parents. 

“Sirius doesn’t know me,” he said coldly, anger flaring towards his estranged brother. The fact he thought Regulus would be happy about the arrangement—

You wouldn’t have said no, a voice in his head pointed out. You wouldn’t have been happy, but you would have done it. Is he really so wrong?

“So if it happens, you won’t do it?” 

Regulus let out a shaky exhale, uncertainty filling him. He didn't want to upset Celeste, but he knew he couldn't stand to disobey his parents either. Could he even say no? He could, under the pretence of a different reason, maybe. Perhaps he could say that she was unsuitable...

It would be the only chance they had.

“We’d have to be strategic,” he settled on saying.

Celeste nodded in understanding. “That’s why I had suggested with Sirius, but he had a different plan.”

Regulus laughed coldly, remembering that night in horrible detail. Had Sirius planned to run away even before Mother had cursed him? Regulus would never know, but it seemed more and more likely. He'd practically announced himself as a blood traitor to her, and there was no coming back from that. Perhaps she had realised, perhaps it was why she'd done it. 

“I suppose he did.”

“I could pretend to be crazy,” Celeste said, obviously having put thought into this. “Or I could be unfaithful—whatever it takes to prevent it. I don’t care if it tarnishes my reputation.” 

“If it comes to it. I don’t think that would be anytime soon; this certainly wasn’t their plan. I was second born, I wasn’t raised to be…” Important. Bureaucratic. Lord.

“What was the plan?” Celeste asked, resuming her pumpkin carving. A calmness had settled over the table now that they had reached a truce of sorts. He smirked at the uneven eyes she had created in her poor pumpkin's face, stress slowly dissipating from his body. 

Regulus shrugged. “To be a partisan, I guess, or focus on business. It’s where most of my tutelage was focused.”

“That’s what you wanted?”

Did anyone actually want that? He supposed some people did, thinking of the rest of his family.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he mumbled instead, focusing on his design. He worked on recreating the rocket ship from earlier, now that Celeste wouldn't reprimand him for it. 

Celeste laughed, levitating another pumpkin towards herself. “Second-born problem for sure,” she agreed readily. “I have a cousin in France. He is marrying in two summers to the most gorgeous woman, Apolline. Half-veela, if you believe it. But when we attend, I’ll be seventeen. They said I could live with them and finish my education at Beauxbatons, where Apolline is attending right now. I’ll be of age, so Father and Mother would have no choice but to allow me.”

It was then Lily and Remus approached the table, with a bit too good of timing to be a coincidence.

“Mind if we sit with you while we get these done?” Lily asked, offering a cheerful smile. Remus was standing by her side awkwardly, clutching a small pumpkin between his hands like a shield. It was reminiscent of a child who’d been scolded by his mother to make a good impression. 

“Sure! It would take all night just the two of us,” Celeste said, scooting down the bench a bit. Regulus did the same wordlessly so Remus could fit beside him. They were all Prefects—more often than not, they’d be expected to all work together to be effective in their roles. It was perhaps the only environment in which House rivalries didn’t exist in the name of fairness.

(And where Regulus could be seen fraternising with those ‘lesser sorts’, and not be penalised for it.)

He listened as Celeste chatted away, apparently a rather friendly person when she didn’t think she was being sold off like a pig to slaughter. He fell into a comfortable silence, content to focus on his work while the others spoke. Once or twice, Remus leaned over and complimented his charm's work, which made his cheeks heat with pride.

It surprised Regulus—he wasn't someone who did things well very often; nothing worth mentioning, at least. Regulus pulled the guts through another pumpkin's mouth, just to see. Remus proclaimed its brilliance immediately when he saw it. Dropping his voice to not alert Lily, Remus added a time-delayed Banishing Charm on the innards so they’d be projected onto someone’s head during the feast. 

He’d make a good teacher, Regulus thought, watching as Remus levitated their work up to the ceiling. Or, in another universe, maybe a good older brother to someone.

Chapter Text

“I gotta go soon—it’s Marlene’s birthday today,” James said from where he sat on the floor with Regulus. They’d just finished their third round of Frustration. Regulus had won each time. James didn’t think you could cheat at a Muggle game, but he had his suspicions. They’d also played Battleship and Connect Four with the same results.

“Then go?” Regulus said, not bothering to look up as he sorted the game pieces and placed them neatly back into their holders.

“I will,” James laughed. “I was just saying that because I don’t really feel like it. I’d prefer to hang out with you.”

"Oh." Regulus blushed then, his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. He busied himself with the box, but James knew he was just avoiding looking up at him.

His crush was not going away. Worse, it seemed to grow each time he saw Regulus. The weekend before, he had seen the boy at Hogsmeade and almost tripped because he had gotten so distracted. Regulus was bundled up in a coat and scarf, with a hat that made him look handsome and aristocratic. The worst bit was how the tip of his nose was red from the cold in possibly the cutest, most innocent way he’d ever seen.

James knew he couldn’t approach him, so he settled for a smile. Regulus didn’t react, if anything, he frowned deeper as he walked by, but it still left his heart in a puddle.  

His grumpy little Slytherin.

Sometimes, James wondered if the other boy felt the same way about him. It was too hard to tell, though—Reg never flirted, and sometimes he didn’t even smile. He kept his face schooled in a cold glare 99% of the time. James had realised how easy it was to make Regulus blush with compliments or even just a validating statement, however, so naturally, he went out of his way to do that as much as possible. It was obvious that Regulus was far too accustomed to being disregarded. 

“I’ll see you Tuesday night?” James asked as he grabbed his sweatshirt from the couch where he’d discarded it. 

Regulus nodded from the floor, reaching over to grab a book from the side table he’d been reading. His shirt was tucked into his pants, always the image of puritanical, but his sleeve pulled back to reveal a flash of porcelain skin at his dainty wrist. James found himself staring at it hungrily.

I am so screwed.

“See ya, Bambi,” James teased, forcefully pulling his eyes away from the scandalous limb. He knew he couldn't put off leaving any longer, as much as he'd like to have stayed. He smiled as Regulus bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that surfaced. 

“Eat slugs,” he replied steadfastly. 

Yeah, sometimes James wondered if maybe his feelings were reciprocated. 

He had only gotten about halfway back when he heard the arguing.

“I know it was you, you pathetic little snake!” a male voice echoed up the hallway. Alarmed, James turned on his heel and hurried in the direction of the yelling.

“Know what was us?” came a cold reply. 

“The horns!”

“Oh, those? He’s upset about the horns, Ev! I rather think they were an improvement to his face, personally.”

James rounded the corner just as he heard the first hex being cast from somewhere below him. Leaning over the stone railing, he could see a group of students on the landing one level down, spells flashing in the dim light between them. "Hey!” he shouted, taking off in a sprint towards the stairs.  

"Hey, cut it out!" he called out again, running down the steps so quickly that his feet barely seemed to touch the floor. He heard yelling and glanced up to see Rebecca and Rhys, Head Girl and Ravenclaw’s seventh-year Prefects, approaching from the opposite direction. It was four against two: from Gryffindor, he easily recognised Micheal and Mark in the fray, along with the other two boys targeted with the horns. On the other side of the hallway were Barty and Evan, the two Slytherins pressed up against each other as they duelled vigorously. 

It was as if none of them heard. Spells continued to be cast towards one another mercilessly.

The Slytherins were being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of spells being cast, but they were managing to hold their own. Dropping to the ground in a sudden crouch, Evan silently cast a purple hex that sent Mark flying back to James’ feet, removing him from the fray. James' eyes widened, impressed. They’d just started learning about nonverbal spells in his year.

"Stay down," James ordered Mark as he scrambled to get to his feet. James stepped around him, stalking towards the other Gryffindor boys. He grabbed the two closest to him by their shoulders, pulling them back with a strong yank. "Stop," he said firmly. They lowered their wands obediently at his order.

Rebecca had incapacitated Barty with a well-controlled Summoning Charm, pulling him on his arse at her feet, which Rhys quickly repeated with Barty. The two Slytherins looked at each other with entertained grins from the ground. 

No one dared to try to fight further. 

Rebecca stepped around the Slytherins and positioned herself between them and the remaining Gryffindor boy. Crossing her arms, she remained silent until he lowered his wand as well.

“It’s over,” she stated sternly, casting a disapproving look at all of them with an arched eyebrow. “Duelling is STRICTLY prohibited,” she snapped. “Thirty-point deduction per student. And we’ll be going to your Head of Houses’ offices immediately to determine your further punishment. There is NO tolerance for violence at Hogwarts.”

Silence fell over the group, leaving everyone, James included, stunned. As they processed her words, those who had been knocked to the ground slowly rose, casting sheepish glances at each other as they straightened their robes and adjusted their stance around her.

“Thank you, James, for your assistance. Fifty points for Gryffindor. Now,” she said, her voice prim, “who wants to tell me what happened?”Merlin, she’s scary, he couldn't help but think. She could give Minnie a run for her money—James was glad he wasn’t the one being reprimanded. 

Micheal tilted his chin up defiantly. “We were walking in the corridor, on our way to the dorms, when these snakes came out of nowhere and started mocking us.”

Mark nodded in agreement. “They were making fun of the—well, the horn incident.” It had been widespread news. It hadn’t helped that Madam Pomfrey had declared that naturally shedding the horns was the best course of treatment, leaving the boys to walk around with the monstrosities for over a week before they fell off.

She looked to Evan and Barty expectantly. 

“We were just wondering if it was like with deer—are you boys gonna get a new point each year you have them?” Evan drawled. His light brown hair was pushed in every direction on his head, perspiration obvious on his temple. 

“Hey—” James warned, but Rebecca waved him off. The other Gryffindors were similarly offended, however.  

“You arsehole!” Micheal yelled while one of his friends, looking stricken, blurted, “They won’t be coming back, right? You’re lying!”

Barty shrugged carelessly, looking at Evan to share a laugh. “Who knows,” he giggled. Barty looked a bit deranged—his dark hair was shoved away from his face out of its usual part, and his eyes were wide and over-excited. With the big grin on his face, it seemed like he was really enjoying this. Even the getting in trouble bit.

“I know you did it!” Micheal snapped, as Evan yelled back easily, “There’s no proof of that!”

“I don’t need proof to know it was you, Rosier! You’re following in your father’s footsteps exactly! I meant what I said: you’ll be dead before you’re twenty anyways!”

“You don’t know what you are talking about."

“I know all your family’s got the Mark! I know it’s only a matter of time—“

"Shut up!" Evan yelled, his face flushed. His shoulders were hunched up around his ears, his eyes wide with anger and something else. Maybe fear. 

“—I know it's a matter of time before you do too!" Micheal continued, ignoring him. "Azkaban or dead, that’s all you have going for yourself!”

Evan breathed heavily, his fists clenched tightly by his sides, but he didn’t respond. His eyes blazed at Michael as if he were ready to kill him, yet he held back, not moving a muscle. He stood in tense poise, like a cracked aquarium under pressure, moments away from bursting.

James moved forward, ready to try to get the Gryffindors behind him and intercept their conversation. Letting them continue was not going to lead to anything good. Before he could, though, Micheal spoke in a low and calm voice.

“What Rosier? Nothing to say? You’re not excited to see your mommy again? I heard you were the last one to see her—well, the one to find her, that is.”

James froze, his head snapping to look at Micheal in anger. “Enough,” he barked, keeping his shoulders turned toward Evan in anticipation of his retaliation. 

Evan didn’t react, though—he didn’t so much as open his mouth. He just stood there motionless, his body frozen and eyes blazing. 

“Formica Pellis Maxima!”

James twisted in surprise—he hadn’t even thought about Barty. For a moment, no one moved. 

And then Micheal started screaming. 

“Nonono!” he shrieked, clawing at his skin. Everyone watched wide-eyed as he attacked himself, scratching at his face and throat as if trying to rid himself of invisible creatures. “Get them off! GET THEM OFF!”

Micheal dropped to his knees, ripping off his cloak haphazardly. His screams echoed off the stone walls, the sounds of his frantic scratching filling the room. James registered Rebecca shouting something to Barty, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Micheal. He was completely unaware of them as he attacked his skin, his desperation growing in intensity with every passing moment. A particularly bad scratch on his face split the skin, drops of blood appearing in a line down his cheek to his jaw.

"Micheal, stop!" he shouted, spurred into action at the sight of blood. He grabbed Micheal's arms and crossed them across his chest so he couldn't hurt himself further, while Rhys managed to grab his legs and effectively pinned him to the ground. The younger student wouldn’t stop screaming, though. He wouldn’t stop sobbing—

“Get them off! Get them off of me!” He pleaded, squirming helplessly under their weight. He slammed his head back on the floor with a resounding thud, a shuddered breath escaping from him. James winced, feeling a phantom ache in his own head. 

“Put something under his him!” Rhys ordered roughly. Together, the younger students piled their robes under Micheal's head, protecting it from further damage. Rhys met James’ eyes, looking distressed. "Do you know the counter-curse?" he asked him desperately, to which James shook his head. He didn't even know which curse it was that Barty used. 

“Barty, stop it!” Rebecca was screaming, any ounce of her prim and proper attitude completely gone as she begged helplessly. She was standing in front of the dark-haired Slytherin, her face pinched in panic, eyes wild.  

Barty watched Micheal writhe on the ground, his dark eyes burning. He tilted his head as if considering, not so much as looking at Rebecca.

“No." 

“Please! Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Micheal yelled desperately. Tears dripped down his face onto the floor below him, his jaw trembling with effort at each breath. James winced away from his pitiful whimpers as he cried for it to end, looking at Barty. What should I do? he thought panicked. He was close to stunning Barty unconscious when Evan moved a step closer to them so their shoulders were almost touching. His hand reached out to grasp Barty's wrist.

"Barty," he said, his voice strained. "Stop it."

James held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Barty's eyes darted to Evan, wide with uncertainty, his brows furrowed in concentration. With a quick, decisive motion, he lifted the curse. The screams stopped abruptly, the room becoming eerily silent except for Michael's desperate gasps for air. He looked away from Evan, his dark eyes unrepentant. 

“Never,” Barty said, his voice even, "talk to Violet or Evan ever again.”

All four Gryffindors shook their heads in quick agreement, their eyes averted.

“O-Okay,” Micheal said, his voice shaky from below James. James released his arms, realising how tightly he had been holding them. No doubt there would be bruises from his grip. 

“He needs to go to the Hospital Wing,” he said, watching as his Seeker trembled while slowly pushing himself up in a seated position. His friends crowded his sides eagerly, holding him in a hug.

“Rhys, take him,” Rebecca said, taking charge. “Barty, come with me. We are going to the Headmaster’s Office. The rest of you—your House Heads will be in contact.”

With that, James watched as the group slowly disbursed, the Gryffindor boys following Rhys to the Hospital Wing as he levitated Micheal carefully in front of him. Rebecca was threatening Barty with his likelihood of expulsion for his use of a dark curse on another student, her voice trailing off as they went up the stairs and out of sight.  

All that was left was Evan.

James looked at him uncertainly, his emotions feeling raw from the intensity of the night. He felt angry, but he wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. Before he became friends with Regulus, he knew he would’ve blamed Rosier as much as he blamed Barty, but…

It wasn't really his fault. Not entirely, at least. He was angry at Barty for what he had done to Micheal, but he was also mad at Micheal for what he had said to Evan. In truth, he was angry at everyone, mostly himself, for not being able to help more, for not being able to prevent it all from happening in the first place. 

Evan looked exhausted. His shoulders were slouched, and his face, usually impassive, looked gutted and pained. When he looked up, James was startled by how haunted his eyes looked. 

"Are you okay?" he found himself asking. He had never hung out with Rosier before; he never even saw him much beyond unremarkable moments in the hallways, honestly. He could see the resemblance between him and Violet, however. Both were tanned with sandy hair and piercing eyes. But her youthful face was warm and open, and her eyes bright, while his face was hardened, and his eyes shadowed. 

Evan looked surprised for a moment, frowning almost imperceptibly. 

"Fine," he responded finally, no emotion behind it. Without another word, he turned and left, heading towards the dungeons. James watched him go, his stomach in knots. He felt worried, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Evan was a Slytherin who’d been duelling with his House, with his teammates. 

It wasn’t his job to look after him.

James waited until the sound of footsteps disappeared before starting his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He knew the party was probably already in full swing, but classes were tomorrow, so it’d be a relatively early night.

He wasn’t in the mood anymore. 

He knew he had to go anyway.

. . . 

“Go Moony!”

James was several fire whiskies deep, demanding a drink for each hand the moment he arrived at the tower. Anything to not think about the fight he had just witnessed or the sounds of Micheal screaming. Two hours later, and he had succeeded. 

He yelled in entertainment at Remus on the table, singing the words to "Wish You Were Here." James was almost brought to tears with emotion. Remus loved Pink Floyd, and while it wasn’t the most upbeat party song, he had the audience enthralled. Remus was probably the only one as drunk as James. He had been in a mood when James arrived, sitting in the corner by himself, but he happily went shot for shot when James suggested it. James doubted that Remus would remember much of anything tomorrow morning.

Remus rocked his hips to the tune, singing into his closed fist passionately. As the lyrics tapered off, he shut his eyes, crooning, “Wish you were here,” breathily once more. His other hand found its way to the hem of his sweater, and he pushed it up tauntingly, rocking back and forth in his own world to the music. James watched as he revealed the flat planes of his abs, moving his arm in a slow circle, teasingly showing the skin just above the waistband of his pants over and over.

It was absolutely debauched. 

James adored it. Remus looked so fucking hot—

“Yes, Moony!” he screamed again in support as the song came to an end. That's MY best friend! He glanced around the room, gauging everyone’s reactions. Everyone was as entertained as he was, clapping and cheering for his performance. 

He pulled Remus into a stumbling hug as soon he descended the table. “You beautiful, beautiful man!” he yelled, ruffling his hair as someone switched the record. “That was so sexy!”

Moony pulled back from his hug, his cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. “I’m going to hate myself tomorrow,” he acknowledged, his smile lopsided. He was usually quiet and reserved, going out of his way to be outwardly polite. This was a side of him James had never seen before, but he loved it. 

“Yeah, probably,” James laughed. Chances were Remus wouldn't show his face for a few days, honestly, knowing him. That was a tomorrow problem, though. “I gotta piss!”

They passed Sirius on their journey to the loo, who was staring at Remus like he’d never seen him before. Mary was at his side, looking dismayed. Apparently, Madam Puddifoot had essentially called Sirius a whore in front of her last weekend, and she hadn’t gotten over it since. Sirius wasn’t exactly helping, simply pointing out she knew who he was before she agreed to date him. 

Their advice to reassure her instead of arguing went unheeded. 

James hoped they worked it out. Mary was a really nice girl—he thought she was good for someone like Sirius, who needed a lot of love and understanding. 

“Wasn’t Moony beautiful?” James asked him, still overwhelmed by his performance. Usually, it was him or Sirius on the table—who knew what Remus had been holding back?

“Yeah,” Sirius said, but his voice sounded wrong. James squinted at him for a minute to try to work it out, but then a quick tug on his wrist had him stumbling again towards the loo with Remus.

There were already three people in the boy’s dorm bathroom: Peter, Frank, and another seventh-year Gryffindor, Alice. She was one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Chasers, along with Frank and himself. And, as of that summer, Frank's girlfriend. 

"Hey, guys," Peter tried to say, but with each word, a large bubble came out of his mouth, floating up towards the ceiling. Alice and Frank had tears streaming down their faces as they laughed. 

“The—" Alice started, but a bubble came out of her mouth as well, sending her into incoherent gasps. They all burst into new fits of giggles, writhing on the floor like Flobberworms as they clutched their sides. 

Remus and James made eye contact with each other before dissolving into laughter. “What happened?” he asked. The pressing in his bladder reminded him he needed to pee; with urgency, he stumbled into the nearest stall. As he relieved himself, he could hear Frank try to laugh out an explanation. 

“Euphoria- Elixir- Gone- Wrong-" he gasped, howling with each word. 

When he finished, he found Remus on the floor, tangled up with Peter. Remus was searching through Peter's pockets while the smaller boy fought him off indignantly, their laughter unyielding. 

“A-ha!” Remus declared after a moment, holding up a silver Zippo in success. He tapped Peter’s bum appreciatively once before standing up to join James. 

“Well, we’re off—be safe kids!” James shouted as they filed out of the bathroom. There was a moment of silence, and then Peter squeaked: “You sure you don’t want any?”

All three of their cries of laughter could be heard long after they closed the bathroom door. 

The party was much the same as they had left it. Sirius now sat in one of the high-back chairs by the fire with Mary on his lap. A few students were dancing by the record player, but James followed Remus to a more secluded corner where Lily and Marlene sat, a half-eaten cake between them. Both the girls scooted over so they could sit next to them. 

“Having fun?” James asked, reaching over Marlene's arm to grab a fork from the pile beside them and digging it into the cake. After he had one bite, Remus reached out with a grabby motion, just a second later snatching the fork from his hand. 

Frowning, James reached across the table again, retrieving another one for himself. 

“Not as much as you two,” Marlene laughed, her brown eyes twinkling. Her makeup looked really nice—dark black eyeshadow covered her upper eyelids, but sections were left untouched in the shapes of stars. She wore dark lipstick as well, and an oversized black tee with fishnets and combat boots.

She looked absolutely badass. Gryffindor definitely had the coolest Beaters in the school, he thought, thinking of her and Sirius. 

“What held you up?” she inquired after a moment. 

James slumped in his seat as he remembered. What started with a very good night with Reg, ended on a terrible note with that duel.

"There was a fight," he said somberly, staring down at the cake. He threw his fork onto the table, his appetite gone. The cake resembled more of a pile of mush at this point, anyway. 

“A fight?” Lily asked. He looked up at her voice, her face etched in concern. Right, she was a Prefect. He glanced at Remus, who was also a Prefect. He was still too busy wolfing down the cake to be bothered to listen, though. 

Wolfing down, James laughed to himself. 

“Yeah, Micheal and his friends got into it with Rosier and Crouch," he explained, forcing himself to focus. "Rebecca and Rhys were there too. The Headmaster already knows about it.”

“They had to go to Dumbledore about it?” Lily exclaimed. 

“Merlin, what’d they do? Burn a wing down?” Marlene asked. 

“No, Barty cursed Micheal. It was really bad—they had to take him to the Hospital Wing.” He felt a warm hand on his arm; he looked up to see Lily reaching across the table to touch him reassuringly.

“I’m sorry, James,” she said kindly.

“I feel bad for Evan,” he blurted out. “He and Violet lost their mum, just like Bambi and—and—" And what? Nothing. He just was upset, his thoughts drunkenly flowing out of his mouth without thought. He felt as if he could cry just thinking about it, honestly. 

“Like Bambi?” Marlene asked, confused. She was a Pureblood as well; he doubted she had heard of the movie before. 

James pulled this hand away from Lily to push back his hair in frustration. Regulus came to his mind, with his gentle features and quiet demeanour. He lapsed into silence, longing.

“I really like Bambi…” he confessed after a moment. He wished he could go see him. “I miss him.”

“James…” Lily said, looking concerned. “Bambi is a movie.”

He sighed. “I know.”

Marlene bit her lip, fiddling with one of the rings on her hand. “My parents are both Aurors, you all know that. They told me to keep my distance from the Rosiers. Me and Micheal’s dads are partners—I reckon he told him the same. Evan's dad is rather… notorious. From what I've heard, most of the family's been in the wind since allegations started coming forward about them being involved with You-Know-Who. A couple of years ago, I overheard that the mum had killed herself. They suspect that there was a note, but by the time they got there, it was gone. No one knows what really happened.”

James frowned, wishing he had another drink to sip or something to occupy his hands. Apparently, Remus thought the same as he lit a cigarette. He passed it to James to share wordlessly. 

“He was the one who found her?”

Lily and Remus both looked respectfully downcast. Marlene shrugged. “Sounded like it.”

“What did Crouch cast?” Lily asked after a moment, redirecting her gaze to James. 

“I don’t know," James admitted. "I didn’t recognise it. It was dark, though—Micheal was trying to claw the skin right off of himself.” 

Everyone winced at the visual. 

“Well, it’s not like he’s going to be penalised for it. His dad’s the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Marlene said dubiously. 

James blinked. “I always forget about that.”

“Right? Now that’s a weird dynamic!” Marlene said, shaking her head. “That whole group’s weird. The only one who seems even a bit sane is Dorcas.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lily said knowingly. “Pandora is the most normal of them.”

James couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from him. “She doesn’t wear shoes!”

Lily gave him a look. “So? You are going to try to sit here and compare shoes to dark curses? She’s brilliant, and very well put together otherwise. And she’s a Ravenclaw, so…”

“So slightly less evil,” he finished knowingly. They shared a smile.

“Exactly,” Lily agreed. 

Remus leaned forward suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was listening. “Would it be bad for me to say Regulus is growing on me?”

Lily shrieked in laughter that startled James. “Oh my god, Remus—I was thinking the same thing!” 

“Do not let Sirius hear you say that,” Marlene said gravely, looking over to where he sat with Mary. James thinks they might’ve all turned to look at him, but he was too busy smiling to himself to bother.

Remus AND Lily admitted they liked Regulus! His Regulus!

His quiet, grumpy, beautiful and shy secret friend. He wished so badly he could see him right now. He felt like everything was going really well. James wasn’t positive, but it seemed hopeful he would agree to join them for the holidays. And then Regulus and Sirius could be brothers again, and, well, maybe James could hang out with him a bit more, too.

Remus and Marlene had excused themselves during his internal celebration; when his eyes came back into focus, it was just him and Lily there. She stood and switched seats so that she was on the same side of the table as him now. 

“It’s been nice getting to know you these past few weeks…” she said sweetly, leaning closer to him. 

He gave her a smile. “You too, Lily! You’re such a nice person. I’m sorry it took me so long…” To see you as a person? To treat you like a human instead of a prize? To be your friend instead of just trying to woo you constantly? 

She seemed to understand regardless. “I appreciate that—It’s okay, though.”

He smiled, settling into his seat, satisfied. It had gotten a lot easier to talk with her since his brain began to actually keep functioning when he was near her. Lily seemed more receptive to him when he wasn't making an idiot out of himself trying to impress her—who would have thought? Lately, she'd even started initiating their conversations.

When he glanced over, she was still perched towards him. James gave her another smile, glad that they were friends now. He looked down at the table, his eyes starting to feel tired, his drunken thoughts lingering on Regulus. Reg. Bambi.

Tuesday seemed too long to wait to see him again.

A curfuffle by the fireplace caught his attention. Sirius and Remus were arguing, with Mary standing shyly behind Sirius. If James had to guess, it was likely about certain sleeping arrangements that night. 

He wondered if they could just use Mary’s dorm? Surely, by the seventh year, the girls had come up with a system for this sort of thing. Sirius was the only one getting any action out of the Marauders; it’d just caused several fights when he’d locked them out of their own room in the past. Once Peter and Remus got girlfriends, and James too (except he was thinking he’d sort of prefer a boyfriend right now), then they’d have to come up with a system. 

“I hope they figure it out soon…” Lily said from beside him. She had resumed a natural position when he turned; her body tilted away from him and into her chair. 

“Me too," James agreed. "She’s really good for him; I think if they can learn to communicate a bit better, they could be it for each other.”

“What?” Lily asked. When he turned to look at her, Lily's eyebrows were pulled together in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

“Sirius and Mary?” he responded, also feeling a bit confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Sirius and Remus?” Lily said.

“Oh,” he said dumbly. It wasn’t exactly a secret how strained their friendship had gotten the year before. He thought that they seemed to be back to normal lately, though, at least from what he'd seen. “Sirius and Remus will be okay. They’ve been friends for too long to let anything come between that.”

“I sort of thought Remus…” Lily said slowly, trailing off. When James looked at her, she shook her head and gave him an exaggerated frown. “Y’know what? Never mind. I’ll let you figure that one out on your own.” 

As she excused herself to bed, James figured he’d better call it a night as well, and stumbled towards his dorm. 

He had his fingers crossed that Remus had won that argument, and he’d be able to sleep in his bed tonight.

Chapter Text

The moment he returned to the dorms, Regulus could tell something was wrong. He’d had a fantastic night with James, beating him in every Muggle game they played. He had wondered by the end of it if James was letting him win—it seemed like the only explanation for his apparent good fortune in games that seemed heavily to rely on luck. 

Walking into the Slytherin common room, however, just a bit past curfew, he was surprised to see half the Slytherin students sitting huddled in the room. Dorcas looked at him with a grave expression. What happened? he had started to ask, but then he heard it. 

The sound of Barty losing it. 

Without a word, he walked towards the room he shared with his two friends, bracing himself for what he would find. 

“I’m sorry, Evan! I’m sorryI’m sorryI’m sorry! I don’t know what else you want me to say!” Barty was yelling, pacing around the room like a caged animal. His face was red, tears streaming down his face. Regulus quickly cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door—either the boys had forgotten about it in their haste to argue, or the one they had cast was already failing.

Barty's knuckles were bleeding, and the room was a mess. Shattered glass and textbooks lay in disarray against the wall and on the floor. A quick scan of the room told Regulus that this had been going on for some time.

“That you won't do it again!” Evan yelled, his usual calm temperament shattered. His eyes were red-rimmed but remained dry. 

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO! I’M SORRY, OKAY?"

“You didn't mean to?!” Evan spat back, not breathing, as he looked at Barty in disbelief. “That’s rich—you didn’t mean to."

“I didn’t!” Barty screamed, pulling at his hair. “Why don’t you believe me?! I didn’t want to hurt you—"

“You didn’t hurt me, Barty! You hurt yourself—you could’ve been EXPELLED!” Evan yelled, eyes gleaming. Regulus took the ebb in their argument to take a few steps forward between the two of them. He vanished the shards of glass off the floor. “You’re better than this," Evan pleaded. 

“Well, obviously, I’m not!” Barty yelled, kicking the trunk by his bed. More textbooks fell to the ground. “I’m a psycho and a freak and I’m fucking out of control—"

“That’s your dad talking!” Evan yelled, huffing in frustration. 

For a minute, both boys panted, looking at each other in mirrored hurt. 

“Well, maybe it is me. Because I don’t actually regret a fucking thing,” Barty said suddenly, voice cold. “Maybe you just don’t actually like me that much.”

“Barty,” Regulus interrupted, feeling empowered when both their eyes snapped to him. “You know that isn’t true.”

Silence overcame the room, and Evan nodded to Regulus, looking thankful. He looked so tired. Like he didn't have anything left. Regulus couldn't pull his eyes away for a moment, feeling like he was seeing a different person. 

Barty started crying then. It started as a quiet sniffle with his back turned to them, but it grew into a pained wail as he lowered himself to the floor in a crumpled ball.

“I hate myself," he sobbed, curling in on himself. “I hate this."

“Barty…" Evan said quietly. “Please, Barty, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! I’m so fucking stupid. I mess everything up! I’m just a big fuck-up—"

“I was wrong, Barty. Please,” Evan pleaded, exhaustion saturating his voice. “You’re not a fuck-up, alright? I know you were just trying to look out for me. I only got upset because I didn’t want you getting expelled, yeah? I don’t want any of my mates getting hurt because of me. I care about you—I’m not angry, I swear.”

Barty shook his head, sobs heightened. His emotions were raw, like exposed nerves with his skin filleted off. They were painful, all-encompassing, set off with just the lightest touch. It wasn't the first time something had triggered a complete meltdown, and Regulus doubted it'd be the last.

"And now I’m making you lie to me so I stop freaking out! I know you don’t actually mean that! I’m a terrible friend—a terrible person. Everyone would be better off if I just died!"

“Barty, stop it!” Regulus snapped, the words coming out of his mouth before he even thought about it. Walking to his trunk, he pulled out a phial of Calming Draught. He crouched on the floor next to him, knowing that Evan couldn’t take any more. Shouldn’t have to take anymore. He didn’t want to know how long it had been going on before he arrived. Long enough for an audience to form, at least. 

Barty had quieted down at his command, but his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. Regulus knew he wasn’t even himself at that moment; some other force had come out and taken control.

“Drink this, okay? Then get into your bed.” Regulus didn’t know how to do comforting—Kreacher’s skeletal little hands holding his head affectionately was the closest thing he had seen to it growing up. But Barty didn’t need comforting in this moment—he needed submission. He needed to be able to take the back seat in his brain until he snapped back into reality. He likely wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow. 

When he had drunk all the potion, Regulus grabbed under his armpits to help haul him to his feet. He led him to the bed, Barty crawling to it with no further provocation. Regulus looked at his friend curled up on his side like a little kid; his shoulders were pointy, his body skinny and gawky. With the slightest hesitation, Regulus grabbed the blanket by his feet and pulled it over him carefully. Barty sniffled again but otherwise didn’t react. 

Finished with the task, Regulus looked over to Evan. He sat at the end of his bed, unmoving, his eyes had trailing Regulus' movements.

“We got into it with Micheal and those gits again. It was my fault—I saw them walking and just couldn’t help myself. Made a stupid comment about the horns, and we ended up duelling.” Regulus sat carefully on the edge of the bed next to Evan, offering his support. “It was fine, some Prefects showed up and stopped it. We’d probably have just lost a few points and gotten detention. But then Michael said—he said my family’s got the Mark, and started talking about my mum—”

Evan’s voice choked off then, but he refused to cry and continued hurriedly. “I was mad. I was so mad—making those kinds of accusations in public! That could get them killed! Matty doesn’t even have his yet! And an Auror could just kill him now if he suspects—" His voice trembled, his fists forming into tight balls on his lap. “It doesn’t matter. Barty cursed Micheal and put him in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore is sending him home for a temporary suspension, and he has detentions for the rest of the term. I hate his fuckin' dad, but if he hadn’t stepped in, Barty would’ve been expelled. Because of me.”

“What curse did he use?” Regulus asked after a moment. Barty wasn’t trained in the Dark Arts like he and Evan were, but they had taught him a bit more than he would’ve known otherwise over the years. He reckoned Evan could probably have killed everyone with curses so dark the other boys couldn’t even dream of them had he really been trying. His self-control was admirable. 

Evan laughed then, wiping his eyes. “Fuckin' Formica Pellis.”

Reg looked at him, confused. “Ants in your pants?”

It was a moderate jinx that made the victim feel like there were bugs on your skin. Entertaining, if you wanted a show.

“Maxima… I didn’t even know you could do that. Barty’s too smart for his own good. Micheal was trying to rip the skin off his body he was so uncomfortable.”

Regulus snorted. “Well, at least Barty was smart enough not to do something actually dark. Even his dad might’ve not been able to sort that out.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Evan readjusted, stretching his spine. “Right. Thanks, mate.”

Regulus shrugged. He was pretty sure he didn’t do very much, all he’d done was sit there while Evan had talked.

“Dorcas was in the common room when I came in,” he offered. In case you want to talk to someone with an emotional range broader than a fucking rock.

“Think I’ll just call it a night,” Evan said. “You don’t have any more of those Calming Draughts, do you?”

Regulus nodded, retrieving one for Evan. He had made a stockpile of them at the start of term, for times when his anxiety was so bad his Occlumency was no match for it. Evan wasn’t really panicking—it was technically a misuse of the potion to be taking it. Especially at such a large dose, it was basically a sedative.

But Evan deserved a break, Regulus decided. 

“Goodnight, Reg,” Evan murmured from his bed a few minutes later. 

"Goodnight, Ev," Regulus said softly in return, padding around the room quietly, collecting his pyjamas and toothbrush. He methodically prepared for sleep, staring into his flat eyes in the mirror for a bit too long after he was done washing up. Unable to delay it any longer, he made his way to his own bed.

Regulus lay awake for a few moments, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling. Something was bugging him—his mind was unable to turn off. He ran through the evening in a quick play-by-play, breaking down every detail of the night. Finally, it clicked. 

He swung his legs out of bed, pushing his covers off and bracing his bare feet against the cold floor. With careful steps, he crossed the room. Hearing the even sounds of Evan's breath, he gently removed his shoes, placing them beside his bed and pulling a blanket over his body. The other boy didn’t move an inch.

He returned to his bed after, drawing the curtains around him carefully. 

Better.  

. . .

The week passed by, Barty's absence notable in the bouts of silence that filled their dorm room. Without him around, the conversation was sparse. Regulus did his best, but Evan wasn't much in the mood for conversation either.

Evan was always regimented, but he threw himself into his schoolwork and Quidditch training like it was his purpose for living. Regulus focused his attention on him instead of James for the week, and quickly realised how often his friend's eyes were staring at the Gryffindor table. It was easy to notice when his own eyes weren’t being beckoned there themselves. 

Regulus was angry with himself for not noticing sooner. It was unlike him, but James was a distraction. He’d started taking up not just a majority of Regulus' mental space but a lot of his time as well. They had met almost every second night to hang out. 

He bailed on James the past Tuesday and avoided him since. It was painfully easy to do so.

Sometimes, he felt some sort of way about it. 

His chest hurt a bit, when he thought about the lingering touches. It hurt when he thought about it at all, if he was being completely honest. James' smile, his laugh, his crooked glasses, the way he said Regulus' name. The way he teasingly had called him 'Bambi' sometimes, like they were actually friends, and it wasn’t just a matter of forced proximity. 

Regulus knew better, though—it had never been real. The idea that they were friends was laughable. James Potter wasn't friends with people like him. Not Slytherins, not well-behaved Black heirs, and certainly not him. 

He was skilled at handling bothersome feelings, however, so he shoved them aside and focused on Evan. Evan, who was his friend, and needed his help. Evan, who wouldn’t be going anywhere. Evan, who, quite obviously, had done the same thing Regulus had thought of at the first sign of trouble, and told Violet to keep her distance from them. 

The little Gryffindor kept her head down when she passed them in the corridors now, not offering them a hiss or even a 'hello'. She sat with her friends, Marnie and Trisha, and seemed to get along with life just fine. She was laughing, which Regulus figured was a certain sign she must be doing okay. 

Evan… not so much. He struggled with the sudden distance, watching her across the room like a ghost, and was constantly biting his nails. It was obvious he wasn’t handling the separation as well as his sister, or as well as Sirius even when he had left Regulus. Then again, Violet was a bit more of a remarkable person than himself, if he was in the habit of comparing their relationships.  

Regulus wished there was more he could do to help, but from the moment Violet was sorted into Gryffindor, it was just a matter of time. With the war raging on, the lines between 'good' and 'bad' became pronounced within Hogwarts itself. It was an unspoken rule that Slytherins and Gryffindors were not allowed to mingle, and everyone was aware of it. Evan would do whatever it took to ensure his sister's well-being, even if it meant staying away from her.

The Halloween Feast was a tacky affair, in Regulus' opinion. The Jack-O-Lanterns he had spent an entire evening helping carve bounced happily amongst the flying bats near the ceiling. Remus’ pumpkin gut prank went off without a hitch and landed on an unsuspecting second-year Ravenclaw, he noted from a table away.

Hagrid, the caretaker, had won the regional contest for largest gourd, and the unsightly monstrosity was placed front and centre in the hall, a cheap ribbon stabbed proudly on a particularly lumpy area of its skin for all to admire. The ghosts’ had prepared an abridged version of the famous play Hamlet as well, but it was rather hard to follow without any costume changes, or costumes at all, really. 

The Hogwarts Choir finished off the evening after dessert with a three-song special they had prepared. However, Moyra Schitt, an ambitious sixth-year Hufflepuff, hit a note during the second song that put the Fat Lady to shame and caused several students to faint.

With a polite "A-hem,” Dumbledore cut their performance short and announced the completion of the feast. 

“I can’t wait to see Barty,” Dorcas complained on their walk back down to the Dungeons. “Hanging out with the two of you has been like hanging out with a couple of wet blankets.”

They’d barely seen Dorcas over the past week apart from meals, but Regulus didn’t point it out. He wasn’t blind to the fact that she spent time with them more out of need than choice. He wasn’t sure where she’d been lately outside of classes and meals, but it had been far from the Slytherin common room. Without Evan’s efforts, Regulus doubted they’d see her much at all these days.

Well, without Evan’s efforts, he probably wouldn’t be seeing much of anyone. He wasn’t really in a place to judge.

“The whole feast was ridiculous, even for Hogwarts,” was all he said. 

Evan glanced over at him, a mischievous smile on his face. “Well, it was pretty funny when Regulus got upset at St. Nick’s monologue about the skull.”

“He changed the content entirely! What he said didn’t make any sense, literally or metaphorically,” Regulus defended vehemently. Shakespearean works were largely renowned and had been adapted several times by Wizards. He’d never seen the play himself, aside from that disaster he’d just experienced, but he’d read the screenplays enough to be a critic of what he’d witnessed. 

Evan burst out into laughter. “Yeah, just like that!”

When they reached the common room, a familiar figure was sitting on the couch. 

“Barty!” Dorcas cried, running to him and giving him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Thank Merlin, you're back. It’s been so boring without you!”

Barty returned the hug enthusiastically. “Of course, my dear; I live for your entertainment!” Turning to face the other two boys, his face dropped slightly in shame. “Hey, guys,” he said, his voice uncertain. 

Evan pulled him into a hug before he could say anything else. “Come here,” he said gruffly. “I missed you, you mother-fucker.”

“The only mother I’d fuck is Wally,” Barty said seriously, looking at Regulus when he pulled away. Regulus pushed down the urge to hurl. 

“Never say that again,” he said stiffly. With only a moment’s hesitation, he closed the distance between them and patted Barty’s shoulder. “I missed you too,” he added softly. 

Barty’s eyes shone as he looked at him in mock admiration. “Coming from you, that’s practically a love note!”

The tension had faded from his body with their warm welcome. “I know my arrival has been long anticipated, but fret not, I did not come empty-handed,” Barty announced theatrically. Grabbing his bag from the couch, he pulled out two bottles of Firewhiskey. “Happy Samhain!” he shouted, in time with several of the seventh-year Slytherin students coming into the common room with similar offerings. 

“Let’s go!” Flint shouted, bounding over and rubbing Barty’s head aggressively. With a yell, Mulciber pushed his way into the fray. “He’s back!”

Barty’s suspension had gained him the good sort of attention from other Slytherins, particularly some upper-years who were actively trying to be noticed by the Dark Lord. Regulus thought it was a bit absurd to think he’d care about the going-ons in a high school, but he was glad to see Barty so happy. 

His parents had been financially backing the Dark Lord for years, and Regulus knew in the future, they planned for him to be involved more. He wasn’t so narcissistic to think the Dark Lord would hold any interest in him while he was still in school, however. 

The party gained momentum quickly as more people arrived back from the feast. Dorcas forced him to stay for a while to ‘let loose’, so he sipped at a glass of Goblin’s Rum and participated in a round of Exploding Snap with her in the corner. He was ready to make his escape when Celeste approached him, hair half-pulled up in two small pony-tails at the crown of her skull. She wore dark red lipstick and red-toned eye shadow, reminding Regulus of how Narcissa used to do her make-up back when she was a teenager. 

“I need a favour,” she shouted over the hum of music and voices around them. His brow furrowed as she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “I want to have a word with your mate, Evan!”

He glanced to his left, where Evan was sipping his drink, chatting away with Barty and a fourth-year, Edward Nott.

“We’ve been at school together for five years. Haven’t you spoken to him before?” he asked, confused.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Not like that, Regulus! I want to snog him! D’you think he’d be up for it?”

Regulus felt his eyebrows raise in understanding. “Obviously,” he said, causing her to laugh for the second time. She was a bit nervous, fixing her hair more often than normal. “Okay,” he said, straightening his shoulders. He was being a wingman for Evan as much as he was for Celeste—it should be easy. They were both attractive people.

Looking at Barty, he paused. “Do you have any friends?” he asked. 

Celeste burst out into laughter once again. She might be a bit drunk, he was starting to realise.

“I have loads of friends, Regulus. Who are you interested in?”

He nearly flinched at the assumption. No, absolutely not. He would kiss a woman on his wedding day if he absolutely must, but that was it. 

“Not for me, for Barty,” he said, nodding over to the two boys. Nott had left while they’d been chatting. 

“Oh, yeah! Piece of cake,” Celeste said, darting off for a moment before returning with one of the Pucey twins. “This is Adrienne! Adrienne, this is Regulus. He’s going to be our wingman!”

Adrienne gave him a big smile. She had long, black hair that was curled in manicured waves. Her eyes were a vivid green and shaped very cat-like. Barty would definitely be interested.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all night,” she drawled, her canine teeth abnormally sharp. 

It was easier than he expected, as Barty and Evan appeared at his side. “You need a refill?” Evan asked, offering him the bottle of liquor he was holding. 

Regulus shook his head 'no.' “Have you, uh—Have you met Adrienne and Celeste before?”

“'Course,” Evan laughed, looking at Celeste with a grin. “How has Reg been as a Prefect partner this year?”

Celeste giggled, leaning towards Evan and putting a hand on his arm. “Pretty great, actually,” she said, giving Regulus a wink.

She turned back to Evan then, giving him her full attention. Regulus could hear her ask how he felt their first Quidditch match against Gryffindor was going to go, while Barty and Adrienne talked about Arithmancy. Apparently, they were in many of the same electives—Regulus supposed that was bound to happen, given that Barty was in all of them. 

Grabbing his cloak, he hastily made his way towards the exit. He caught even Severus trying to join in on the party, sipping at a drink while propped up against a wall awkwardly. Regulus hoped, for his sake, someone would take pity on him and talk to him, if only to make him less reliant on Lily. 

He knew that most of the Prefects skived on their duties tonight, and just as he'd thought, he made it to the Astronomy Tower without crossing paths with anyone. Rebecca might be upset if they were caught slacking off, but their first Prefect meeting had been postponed since Frank was too hungover to run it. Obviously, no one was too concerned about disappointing him anymore.

It was a clear night outside, allowing for perfect star-gazing. 

Naturally, his eyes found Sirius, bright and untiring. His birthday is in three days, Regulus remembered. He was already overwhelmed with the need to wish him a good day, and the pain of knowing he couldn’t anymore.

Sirius had good friends, though, Regulus knew. They would make him feel special. 

“I miss you,” he whispered to the star. “I hope you are happier now.” 

He sat on the ground after a while, enjoying the cold embrace of the night. The air, usually so heavy and constricting, felt light on his skin, like the ghost of someone’s touch. With each breath, a puff of mist filled the air in front of him, cupping his face and condensing on the collar of his robe. 

Usually, it was the time of night when he let his demons out of their cages and, overwhelmed by their painful touches and memories, turned his wand on himself. When he created an outlet for everything that was too much inside of him in the privacy of his bed alcove. 

Tonight, he just felt empty, however. He felt sad. 

He was content to just sit in longing.

“Regulus?”

Looking up, startled, he found James standing not even five feet from him. How long had he been there?

“James,” he greeted tactfully. His heart was speeding up in his chest, though, all the feelings that he’d locked away returning at a moment’s notice. “Why are you here?”

The expression on James' face made Regulus' chest ache. He pushed back his hair, skewing his glasses.

“I just hoped…” His voice trailed off, eyes crinkling in thought. “You haven’t been coming to our room." 

Our room, Regulus' head repeated back to him unhelpfully, annoyingly pleased with his phrasing.

"Something came up," he said vaguely. It wasn't a lie; something had come up—Evan was sad. Sure, Regulus could have disappeared for a few minutes last Tuesday to explain, or even sent James an owl, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn't want James to look at him with confusion, uncertain why his best friend’s little brother would think his absence required an explanation. It would only confirm to Regulus what he already knew: he was unimportant, as always.

Always second choice; always looked over. 

“You could’ve told me somehow,” James said, lip pouting and fists loosely clenched. 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Regulus answered, pushing himself up from the ground so he could at least take his licks standing up.

James didn’t yell, though. He didn’t even raise his voice. He just closed the distance between them so they were only a pace apart, meeting his eyes with a disappointed look. The stars cast a soft gleam on James' glasses, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the rise of his cheekbones. Regulus had to look away.

“How could you think that?” he asked. His voice was strange, but it wasn’t condescending or accusing. Regulus shrugged, feeling off-footed. James was playing a game that he didn’t know the rules of.

“The Room was yours, really. You summoned it."

“It’s not about The Room, Regulus.” He shivered at his name. James hadn’t used it in a millennium, it felt, and it was dangerous coming from his tongue. “It’s about you.”

“I don’t—" Regulus started, then clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“Do you not want to hang out with me anymore?” James asked, face pleading. It would’ve been easier to lie to him, to say he didn’t and allow the fissure he had created between them to keep growing, but Regulus couldn’t bring himself to be dishonest.

“It’s not that,” he said slowly, heart thudding. His throat felt tight, and very slowly, the air in his chest became harder to expel.

“Then what is it?” James asked softly. “I can tell you're upset. Why’d you just cut me off all of a sudden like that?”

“I was just busy,” Regulus repeated, but his excuse felt as if it were wearing thin. “And I know you’d prefer to enjoy The Room with your friends. With Sirius,” he found himself unable not to point out. To remind James who his loyalty truly lies with. At James’ flinch, he knew it hit its mark. “And you can now. You can have it for yourself.”

He had to look away. Regulus focused on Sirius in the sky, trying desperately to keep his breathing regular. This was all too much. James just needed to acknowledge it for what it was. Dragging it out, giving Regulus false hope, was punishing him. 

But then James spoke. 

“Regulus, no,” James said, voice pained. “You have to know that we are friends, right?” His eyes flashed back to James', breath hitching at the emotion he was met with. “I don’t care about The Room—I want to hang out with you on the Astronomy Tower, or in the corridor, or even on the Quidditch Pitch. It’s you I want to hang out with. This had nothing to do with The Room.”

“Oh,” Regulus said dumbly, his mind whirling. That didn’t make sense. 

“Yeah. Oh,” James said. 

Regulus bit his lip as he tempered his emotions: happiness, confusion, the urge to just run away. None of this made any sense—did James think they could just hang out with each other in public and it wouldn’t cause an issue? Along with everything else, aside from Sirius, he was a Slytherin, and James was a Gryffindor. They only needed to look at a few of their friends to see how that turned out.

“Actually, I don’t want to just hang out with you,” James said after a moment, looking nervous. “I actually have really wanted to kiss you, if that’d be alright?”

Regulus felt his eyes widen.

James wanted to kiss him?

James wanted to kiss him?

“I’m sorry if I read this totally wrong!” James rambled after a half-second pause. “Please don’t hate—"

Regulus pushed up on his tiptoes to catch his mouth in a kiss before he could say anything else. James' body was firm, feeling like a sturdy wall as he leaned on him for balance, stretching his spine out to close the distance. James reacted without hesitation, bending his neck down and catching his hips for support. Regulus relished in how large his hands felt around his waist, even with a cloak on.

"Oh, fu—" James murmured as they adjusted. He leaned down more so Regulus could get his feet back flat on the ground. Regulus didn’t dare release his grip around James' neck. Instead, he threaded one hand through James' soft curls, dragging him down with him and arching against him.

Kissing James was everything.

It felt like putting on the thickest socks on a cold morning; it felt like a hot bowl of soup in his stomach when his bones were chilled; it felt like the sun kissing his skin after getting out of cold water. It made him feel warm and whole and alive.

James' lips were soft against his own. As they stumbled backwards against the wall, James brought one hand between his shoulders to pull him against his body more firmly. Regulus pressed against him in response, connecting them at every inch he could. James' other hand moved down slightly, gently holding the curve of his lower back.

Keeping one hand in James' hair, Regulus brought the other around to cup his jaw. He ran his tongue gently against James' mouth, then drew back to suck on his lower lip before releasing it with another soft kiss.

“Reg,” James all but whimpered, pulling away just a few inches. His rapid breath was hot on Regulus' face, and his entire body caged him against the wall. Regulus loved it.

For once, his brain was completely silent.

Chapter Text

“I actually have really wanted to kiss you, if that’d be alright?”

It was the scariest thing James had ever done. He’d never kissed someone properly. And he’d never admitted to anyone he was interested in boys before, either. He had written a few letters to his parents:

P.S. I like boys and girls. 

But none of them were sent.

James wasn't sure how Regulus was going to take it. He blushed a lot when they were together, and he was always staring at him, especially when he thought James wasn’t looking. But Regulus was hard to read, and James knew what other sort of views he used to have. It was all too possible he’d push him away in disgust. 

He’d almost lost his nerve at Regulus’ look of surprise, but then it happened. 

It was the best moment of his life. 

Regulus Black kissed him. 

The week following Marlene’s birthday had been filled with confusion and longing. When Regulus hadn’t shown up on Tuesday, James had taken to watching him on the Map. He was almost always with Evan, which James could understand, especially after what had happened with Barty and the other Gryffindor boys. He figured they'd catch up when Regulus returned to The Room next.

Except he never did. 

Regulus had suddenly stopped talking to him without explanation. It was almost as if he didn't attend Hogwarts at all, echoing the start of the year. Without a conscious effort to see each other, the chance of them bumping into one another was basically nonexistent. James had desperately wanted to track him down and ask him what happened, but there never seemed to be a good opportunity. 

After the Halloween Feast, the Gryffindor Prefects organised a game of charades in the common room. James had abandoned the party to sulk in his bed, the holiday's festivities overshadowed by the realisation that Regulus clearly didn't want to speak with him. There was no way what was happening was anything but intentional. James had watched, broken-hearted, on the Map as Regulus mingled in the Slytherin common room. 

Just when he was about to call it quits, though, his name started moving down the corridor.

Alone.

James made it to the Astronomy Tower in record time.

Regulus looked so beautiful. Away from everyone, his mask was dropped, his face open and raw. It crushed James to see how sad he looked, sitting all by himself under the dark of night. Revealing himself from under his Invisibility Cloak, James was determined to get his answers. Regulus didn’t seem to understand that he even could have possibly been missing him, however—it was as if he was completely unaware of just how much James liked spending time together.

At that moment, James knew he had to try. He couldn’t go on caring about him half-heartedly, not if this was what Regulus thought about their relationship when he did. He needed to be honest and give it his all.

So he took a leap of faith.

And it worked—

Regulus Black kissed him.

He didn’t need to think. His body moved automatically, responding to every touch and noise in perfect synchronisation. It felt like it was exactly what was meant to happen.

"Reg," he said, or tried to, anyway. His chest felt bursting with emotion, and his jeans too constricting. He realised Regulus could probably feel his arousal and almost pulled back on instinct. Then he remembered how Regulus had been practically rubbing against him, and felt reassured it probably wasn’t a surprise or an unwanted outcome.

It was so much. 

It was too much. 

Drawing in a shaky breath, he kissed him once more chastely, pulling back even as he felt Reg chasing him. Holy fuck, he’s actually into me, James thought in glee. Not willing to abandon all contact, he kept a hand on his waist, bringing the other up to cup his jaw. 

Regulus' cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed fondly, unable to believe his luck. Regulus tried to duck his chin to look away, but James caught it in his hand and forced him to keep looking at him. He wanted to kiss him again.

Okay, just one more,  he rationalised. 

He pressed his lips to Regulus' without any intention to deepen the kiss. Regulus seemed to release control and let James lead, breaking apart from him in sync when he pulled back.

“Do you wanna go to The Room?” he asked, moving his hand from his chin into his hair. It was so soft. Regulus nodded in agreement, his large eyes ridiculously pretty and doe-like. James couldn't help it; he gave him another kiss.

Last one, he swore to himself. 

James grabbed Regulus’ hand and intertwined their fingers as he led them down to the seventh-floor corridor. He only let go briefly to pace The Room into existence, dragging Regulus inside alongside him when the door appeared. He'd missed spending time with him so much, just the prospect of getting to hang out with him again made him feel like he was bursting at the seams with happiness. 

Plopping on the couch, Regulus was quick to place himself beside him, giving him an expectant look. 

Fine, just one more. 

James wasn’t sure if it was from being inside, or maybe from being on a piece of furniture, but it heated up quickly. He found himself losing track of time as his hands explored Regulus' body. 

His waist is my favourite part, he thought. But he also really liked the curls of Regulus' hair, and the line of his jaw, and the side of his ribs where he could feel them moving under his skin. His shoulders are quite nice as well, James determined, as he ran his fingers down the curve of Regulus' neck and along his arm. Even with all of the layers between them, he could tell that Regulus was shaped by lithe muscles and sharp angles. 

Regulus half-sat on his lap, his knees pushed into the cushion right next to James and his weight pressed against his thigh. He explored James just as enthusiastically, caressing his biceps and pushing against his chest. Every inch of James’ body felt like it was burning, his nerves overstimulated with every touch. As Regulus' fingers moved from James' ribs to his stomach, any coherent thoughts were erased from James' mind. 

But then he began to move lower. 

James caught Regulus' hands, stilling him.

“I don’t think I’m ready to do anything else right now,” he admitted, hoping it wouldn’t ruin the moment. 

Regulus' eyes flashed, freezing immediately.

“Oh. No, I—We don’t have to,” he said quickly. "Do you.." Reg trailed off, glancing around the room as he repositioned himself off of James' thigh, his hands trembling a bit in his own. “Do you want to go back to your dorm, then?”

“No…" James frowned. “Do you want to go back to your dorm?” he asked uncertainly, disappointment washing over him. 

“No,” Regulus confirmed quickly. He licked his lips, looking down at his lap. James felt the worry in his stomach grow, gnawing at his conscience.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Regulus said, voice tight. He took a few deep breaths, and James watched as his face hardened, his eyes going a bit more distant. One more breath and then, voice flat, “I’m fine.”  

“I thought maybe we could watch a movie together,” James said, sidetracking his concern. He tried to smile reassuringly. “Just cuddle and hope we choose something better than last time?”

“You didn’t like Bambi?” Regulus said quietly after a moment, but his voice was teasing. He still had his face tilted down, almost as if he were ashamed, but his eyes looked up to him playfully. James was overwhelmed again by how cute he was. 

“I really like my Bambi,” he said, giving Regulus a sly grin before pulling up his hand to kiss it firmly. “But the movie is a bit traumatic.”

Regulus laughed softly. “Maybe we should read what it's about before we put it on.”

After a few minutes of deliberation, they settled on Cinderella. They both really liked the artwork, and the cabinet seemed to have over a dozen VHS tapes with similar styles. 

Pulling Regulus against him on the couch, James squirmed until they were comfortably melded against one another as the title sequence began. 

“Is this okay?” Regulus asked, tucked under James' arm and head resting on his chest.

James kissed his temple affectionately, just because he could.

“It’s perfect.”

. . .

Sirius’ birthday fell on November third, which worked out to be a Wednesday. 

The Marauders were planning the party of the century to celebrate. They decided to host it on the following Saturday; an early morning would not be sustainable with what they were expecting to get up to. They had guests from all Houses coming, even Slytherin, making it likely to be the biggest party they'd ever thrown during their time at Hogwarts so far.

"You only turn seventeen once," Sirius pointed out. 

On the morning of his birthday, Sirius sat in front of a pile of gifts from his friends and adoptive family. He’d received a batch of freshly made cookies from Effie, and a new winter coat, which was Muggle denim lined with sherpa fleece. Monty had charmed it to keep him warm, as well as to repel rain and snow. 

Remus had given Sirius a disco ball, which he had brought back from Yorkshire. It was a far cry from his normal thoughtful gifts, but it was a sign of his forgiveness, especially considering how he had discarded Sirius' gift without even opening it last year on his own birthday. Sirius had been enthusiastic over it, making them all pause so he could hang it immediately.

James had gotten him two sets of gloves: one for Quidditch, and the other were half-fingerless leather ones. He had seen a rockstar wearing them in one of Sirius’ popular Muggle culture magazines. James was confident it was a success—Sirius had put them on immediately, flexing his hands in trial and smirking with approval. 

Peter had been particularly thoughtful and actually bought him an owl of his own. Since Sirius ran away from home, he had been borrowing James'. Meeting the gorgeous tawny owl in the Owlery that was now his, Sirius had almost been in tears.

"Thank you, Wormy," he sniffled, petting his new friend gently on her head. "I'll name her Patti." After Patti Smith, of course. He and James had gone to their first Muggle concert to see her in London the previous spring, and Sirius hadn't stopped talking about it since. He was enamoured. 

"It's nothin'," Peter had dismissed with a shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal. Almost as an afterthought, he rifled through his pockets, pulling out a bag of owl treats. "To start you off."

The most unexpected gift came during lunch, however. An unfamiliar barn owl had dropped off a silver-sealed envelope with the Black family crest on it. James watched in concern as Sirius peeled open the letter with a furrowed brow. 

His mouth parted as he read the letter once, and then twice.

“What is it?” James asked impatiently. If his family reached out to him and were trying to wreck his birthday, he was going to be livid.

“He’s given me an inheritance,” Sirius said, eyes scanning the page once again in confusion. “I don’t understand…” 

“What?” Remus demanded, reaching over and grabbing the letter. “This letter is to inform you of the release of Vault 105 and its contents as listed below to your person, Sirius Orion Black, as per the order of Gringott’s Bank and the direction of Alphard Pollux Black…” he read out loud, slowly trailing off as he scanned ahead. “Check the envelope—there should be the key.”

Still looking a bit pale in the face, Sirius dumped the envelope out, a heavy key dropping out of it onto the table with a 'clunk'. 

“Who?” James demanded, stealing the letter from Remus. He tilted it towards Peter so he could read at the same time as him.

“Who’s Alphard?” Peter asked from his left, apparently a much faster reader than he was.

“I don’t really know. My uncle, I guess. He was Walburga’s other brother. He left his money to a blood traitor..." His eyes widened suddenly. "This could get him burnt off the tapestry!”

“Burnt off the tapestry?” Mary asked from Sirius' side, leaning against him supportively. He rested his head against her, shutting his eyes for a moment. 

“It’s a whole thing,” James dismissed. “But essentially means disowned.”

“I got scorched this summer,” Sirius said absent-mindedly, picking his head back up and retrieving the letter from James’ hands. Mary’s eyes widened as she read it over his shoulder.

“That’s…” she breathed. 

“A lot of money, yeah,” Remus commented. 

“I barely knew him,” Sirius whispered, looking pained. James couldn't imagine what he was thinking.

“Maybe you can find him."

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know anything about him; I don’t even know where he lives. And this letter is post-dated—it came from Gringott’s. If it’s inheritance, that means he’s…”

James winced. Right, someone had to die to get an inheritance. 

“Could you ask Regulus?” he suggested before he even considered it. The way Sirius’ eyes snapped to him reminded him that while his relationship had changed with the boy greatly, Sirius and him had just grown further apart in the months of no-contact. 

“No,” he said coldly. Eyes flicking to the Slytherin table, his shoulders relaxed slightly, dropping away from his ears. “Well, maybe. Reggie always did pay better attention than me in family history. He probably wouldn’t help even if he could, though.”

James shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Well, could be worth a shot.”

“Maybe,” Sirius hummed half-heartedly. Folding the letter, he tucked it into his pocket, apparently not wanting to dwell any longer on his strange uncle. The conversation was over. “Speaking of Slytherins, actually, did you invite Celeste to my party?” he directed at Remus. 

Remus nodded, sipping on his coffee. He drank at least a cup with every meal—James was certain his heart would give out if he even had half that amount. Cigarettes and coffee had pretty much turned into Remus' aesthetic this year, but they suited his quiet and bookish persona. Sometimes, James thought he might be a fifty-year-old man trapped inside a teenager's body; he acted more like their professors than anyone else their age most of the time.

“Yeah, Celeste’s coming. She asked to bring Dorcas Meadowes as well.”

Mary frowned. “Is that going to cause problems?”

"Nah, they'll be fine," Sirius said. "Slytherin blokes are the real issue.”

“Which is why none are coming,” Peter said happily. 

James stabbed into his potato wedge a bit aggressively. Unfortunately. 

“Everything else is set up though?” Sirius asked. 

James nodded. “We thought of everything. It’s gonna be a great night, Pads.”

. . .

On Saturday afternoon, leading up to the party, James joined Remus on a last-second venture to Hogsmeade for some extra sweets. Remus had offered to go alone, but knowing he would just end up looting Honeydukes if left to his own devices, James volunteered to help. Remus seemed to be in a suspiciously good mood as they walked, whistling a happy tune and moving with a bounce in his step. He wasn't even grumbling and grunting from all his constant aches and pains like he usually did.

“Receive some good news?” James inquired once the passage door was shut behind them, hiding them within the secret tunnel. He’d brought his Invisibility Cloak, of course, just in case, but there’d been no one in the hallway to see them when they'd reached the entrance anyway. 

Remus shook his head. “No, just—" He frowned and then, shrugging, gave James a grin. “Y’know what, fuck it. I think someone’s interested in me.”

James felt his face break out into a big smile. Remus was impossibly hard on himself—his self-hatred made him convinced that no one could want him. The long list of girls James knew for a fact had harboured crushes on him throughout the years proved that wrong, but Remus was good at pretending it was always just fabricated lies. 

“Wicked! Who is it?” he asked excitedly. He tried to remember if he had seen anyone new hanging around Remus lately, but just their normal friends came to mind. Could it be Marlene? He remembered how they had left together at the end of her party for a bit. Could they have…?

“Well,” Remus said and then stopped walking suddenly. Turning to look at him, James realised he was looking a bit peaky. “I think you might know already, but I have an interest in blokes. As well as women, that is.”

James froze. “You're serious?” 

“You didn’t know?” Remus' eyes widened, uncertainty filling his expression. He took a hesitant step backwards. “Oh fuck, I thought you knew. Everyone else knew—"

“Everyone else?!” James exclaimed, mouth dropping. 

“Yeah, well. With all that happened with Sirius last year—"

“Something happened with Sirius!?” he squeaked. 

“Well, no. Nothing happened,” Moony explained hastily. “It almost happened, but then he went and tried to get me sent to Azkaban. So.”

James felt his jaw drop, but he couldn’t be bothered to correct it. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he said, his heart feeling crushed. Not one, but two of his best mates had been keeping secrets from him?

Remus had the decency to look ashamed. “We didn’t tell anyone, Prongs, honest. Nothing happened. Lily just asked about it once afterwards, and then Marlene and Peter did, too. They had noticed how things had changed between us, and worked it out for themselves, I guess. I hadn’t realised how obvious we had been being. I assumed you knew as well, and were just kind enough not to bring it up.”

James blinked at him. He thought about last year more carefully. Yeah, Sirius and Remus spent a lot of time together, but they were best friends. Sure, Sirius always seemed to be pressed up against him, but Sirius was a touchy person like that—he and James did that, too. And maybe Remus stared at Sirius a bit much, but Sirius was really beautiful.

He suddenly remembered walking into the dormitory one afternoon to the two boys standing practically chest to chest, springing apart guiltily when he burst in the door, and he slapped his hand on his forehead.

“I thought you were just really good friends! Oh, Merlin, I’m an idiot," he cried.

Remus laughed then, a look of relief coming over his face. “Jesus, I thought you were upset with me.”

James pulled him into a hug before his self-deprecating thoughts could go a moment further. “Of course not, I love you. I just—wow! So Sirius likes blokes too, then?”

Remus shrugged against him before pulling away. “I don’t know. He had just confessed to thinking he might like me when everything happened. He’d said he needed more time, but now he’s with Mary, so…”

James frowned. “I’m sorry…” he said empathetically. It must be hard to see him with someone else.

Remus shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m over him. We never would've worked anyways—he made it pretty clear with that stunt he pulled how he feels about me.”

James felt his heart break a bit for Sirius at his harsh words, but he knew they weren’t unwarranted. “You said there might be someone new?” he inquired, changing the subject. 

“Oh, right—well, Lily said that Rebecca said that Rhys was gay, and he’d been asking around about me a bit.”

James nodded, having to concentrate for a moment to dissect that information. “Rhys is great,” he landed on enthusiastically, thinking about how well he managed that duel with Micheal and Rosier the other week. “He’s good-looking, too,” he noted. Not as cute as Regulus, but he had a lot going for him, with a similarly dark look. He was tall and broad, with raven black hair and inky eyes.

Remus shrugged, slowly walking again towards Honeydukes. “I think so too. If it doesn’t happen, it's whatever, though.”

James could hear the insecurity laced in his voice. As much as Remus was trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, it was obvious he was excited and just trying to downplay it in fear of rejection. James hoped, for his sake, it would work out in his favour tonight.

“Well, Rhys would be lucky to have you,” he said supportively. “I er—I reckon I might be into blokes too, actually. Or, well, I am.”

“I had wondered…” Remus said teasingly, giving him a sly look. 

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it! How come you've figured it out so easily? I just realised myself, and you already know all the lads that swing that way!”

Remus laughed. “I doubt I know all of them,” he chided, “but you, James, are painfully naive.” 

. . .

“Truth or dare.”

Several hours later, James found himself sitting in a circle with a mismatched group of other students, including Remus and Rhys. He had noticed that the two started chatting not long after the seventh-year arrived, and had been traversing the party together since.

Remus was totally going to get lucky tonight. He’d never felt quite so proud in his life. 

He wasn’t the only member of the Marauders that fate seemed to be smiling on, however. Peter had matched up with Holly, a fifth-year Gryffindor girl. Last he’d seen, they’d been talking animatedly outside the bathrooms.

Sirius was belligerent and, in an echo of Remus not too long ago, had claimed the coffee table as his stage to perform all his favourite songs. When he wasn’t singing, he was rallying groups together for games, or swinging Mary around to dance. He had organised this impromptu game of Truth-or-Dare, the group sprawled out on the floor in the area outside their dormitory room. 

“Truth,” Celeste grinned, the green eyeliner that outlined her eyelids into sharp points the only reference to her House.  

"Whose the fittest bloke in your year?” Rhys questioned, his eyes glazed over and a soft smile on his face. He looked pleasantly stoned, not completely off his rocker or, more importantly, laughing up bubbles.

He had offered to brew them party potions free of charge after witnessing the aftermath of Frank’s catastrophic attempt the week prior. The Head Boy had ended up cancelling the Prefects meeting the next day, the comedown so bad he ended up bedridden. James had to admit that Rhys clearly had a lot of experience in the area—everyone seemed to be enjoying them, without any bad side effects in sight. 

 “You’re trying to cause a fight!” she accused, leaning forward anyway. “Evan Rosier,” she declared, causing several gasps.

“You can’t choose him!” Sirius said in outrage.

James was certainly happy that Micheal hadn’t joined in this particular game. 

“Fine,” Celeste said, mouth tilting in a dangerous smile. “Regulus, then.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped. “Y’know what, Rosier was fine,” he said, defeated after a moment. The group laughed, but James couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, he was. 

“Truth or dare… Remus.”

Remus glanced up at his name, his eyes half-lidded and smile dopey. He usually preferred Muggle drugs, but he seemed keen to try whatever Rhys had brewed up. James had never seen him quite so relaxed. “Dare,” he said steadily. 

An eyebrow rose high on Celeste’s face. “Okay—do your best worm.”

“Worm?” James asked, confused, while Remus just barked out a laugh. 

“It’s a Muggle dance move,” he explained, standing up slowly and moving to an empty area. “One that I cannot do,” he said pointedly before laying on the floor on his stomach and rolling his body ineffectively. James felt his eyebrows raise.

Remus let out a groan as he wiggled on the floor a moment, then looked as if he was trying to hump it. “Yup, still can’t do it,” he said, resting his head on his arms for half a second as if debating a nap. After a short pause, however, he stood with another groan, returning to his spot as Dorcas nudged his ribs with her foot impatiently.

“That wasn’t even close,” she criticised, moving into the empty space.

James watched in awe as she lowered herself to the floor in a graceful wave, moving backwards on the carpet as her body rolled with momentum, her robes flapping around her as she did. 

“Wicked!” Marlene shouted from beside him, standing up and demanding to be taught how to do it. James watched as the two girls worked together, unsurprised when Marlene caught onto it easily. Anything athletic she tended to have a knack for. 

“Alright, alright,” Remus said, watching them with a lazy smirk. “I never claimed to be coordinated. Truth or dare, James?”

James thought about it. He was feeling a bit too lazy to stand up right then. “Truth.”

“Okay, uh…” Remus said, face pinching as he thought. 

A minute went by.

“C'mon, Moony! You’re holding up the game!” Sirius chastised him, pushing his shoulder gently, earning him a glare. 

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster!”

As they bickered back and forth, James felt his eyebrows raising. Knowing now, what he didn’t know then...

Yeah, he could see it. This must’ve been what Lily meant when she said she wanted them to work it out. He felt conflicted, though—he liked Mary. She was a really great person, and could be a good influence for Sirius. Maybe Remus and Sirius were better off just as friends. 

“Well, someone else can ask then,” Remus finally snapped, giving Sirius a scowl, who, in turn, looked a bit sheepish. 

“How many people have you kissed?” Marlene said quickly, redirecting everyone’s attention. 

“Oh, well..." He thought about it. Marlene, in third year, during a game of spin-the-bottle. Sirius during that same game, and… Regulus. Pining after Lily had really monopolised his time while everyone else was starting to snog each other. “Three.”

“Three?” Marlene and Sirius shouted at the same time, looking excited. Remus looked at him curiously, if not a bit pitifully. Right.

Because everyone knows exactly how many people I have kissed.

“Not exactly earth-shattering news,” Dorcas commented, looking unimpressed. 

“It is for James,” Marlene said from where she sat, now at her side. “He’s been at two since third year.”

Dorcas snorted, making James grow self-conscious. Was that a low number? His parents had been each other’s first kisses, and he'd always thought that was romantic. How many kisses did everyone else have?

And, more importantly, how many people has Regulus kissed? 

“Right, well—who is she then?” Mary asked from across the circle. 

“I already answered a question,” he contended, feeling a bit hot all of a sudden. “It’s my turn to ask!”

As the night wore on, everyone grew sloppier. The cake was brought out—a beautiful, four-layered tower covered in black icing and decorated with charmed broomsticks. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" with such enthusiasm that James' ears hurt. After he blew out the candles, Sirius shoved a handful of cake in his face, and, naturally, he retaliated, leaving them both covered in icing. He felt a bit guilty when he noticed Mary's dismayed expression as she looked at the ruined dessert, but he knew Sirius had enjoyed it as much as he did.

A while past midnight, the crowd began to thin, and James caught Remus leaving the Gryffindor Tower in tow of Rhys. James silently cheered for him, his chest swelling with pride. Looking back toward the room, he found Peter sitting on the couch, still talking with Holly.

When James slumped beside him, Peter broke the news: "I told Sirius he could use the room tonight. I was going to sleep on the couch out here; reckon I could get a bit of cleaning started once everyone winds down anyways."

It was then that James was reminded of what a good friend the shortest boy was. He hadn’t even considered cleaning up—he figured that was a 'tomorrow problem.'

Honestly, it still was as far as he was concerned. 

Although it was almost two am, James decided to sneak away to The Room. Regulus had been busy with Quidditch on Friday night, and with Sirius’ birthday party on Saturday, James had said he wasn’t sure if he could make it. He promised he would try, however. Opening the door, his heart swelled to see a figure in all black lying on the couch, reading comfortably by the fire.

He waited, James thought fondly. 

Regulus shot up from the couch as he entered the Room, brandishing his wand. “Who is it?” he demanded, positioned in a low crouch, face deadly. His eyes scanned the room, ready to strike at the drop of a pin. 

With horror, James realised he hadn’t removed his Invisibility Cloak. “It’s me!” he called out desperately, ripping it off himself. Once uncovered, he gave Regulus a reassuring smile and moved to greet him, accidentally tripping over the Cloak in a flail of limbs. Managing to catch himself just in the nick of time, he looked up abashedly, heat crawling up his neck.

Shit, I'm drunk. 

He was glad to see that Regulus’ face had broken into a smirk, at least, although his wand was still raised in his direction. 

“You have an Invisibility Cloak,” he stated as James gathered it in a ball.

“Er—yeah,” he admitted. Finally, Regulus seemed to relax, bringing his feet together more casually, and lowering his wand to his waist. 

“That’s how you snuck up on me on the Astronomy Tower,” he added smartly. 

“Well, yeah,” James admitted after a moment. He hoped Regulus wouldn’t ask him how long he’d been watching him that night before he had revealed himself. The answer to that was more than a bit embarrassing, and possibly maybe even a bit creepy. “You uh—you really looked ready to kill me there,” he stated, gesturing vaguely towards Regulus’ cat-like reflexes. 

“I was,” Regulus said, his voice disinterested, making James' eyes widen and butterflies fill his stomach. The facade lasted only a moment—Regulus’ teeth found their way to his bottom lip, his cheeks pinkening as if embarrassed by his own joke. “Anyway,” he continued after a pause, offering a hesitant smile, “you made it.”

“Of course.” James made his way towards him and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Can’t stay away,” he admitted through a smile. 

Regulus held his body tightly for a minute before relaxing into his touch. James kissed him leisurely, none of his concerns from earlier in the night present in his mind. Numbers didn’t matter, he thought, leading the smaller boy back onto the couch with a delicate grasp around his wrist. Not with Regulus. 

They fit perfectly together. It wasn’t a matter of skill or experience—it was compatibility, and they were simply meant to be.  

It took them a minute to settle comfortably on the couch. Regulus was eager to cuddle, shuffling and rearranging himself carefully until it was perfect, much to James’ amusement. He moulded himself against James, ensuring they were snug at every point of contact. They lay lengthwise on the couch, the tight squeeze hardly noticeable with Regulus pressed against him on his side, almost taking up the same space as if he were lying there alone.

“Is this okay?” Regulus asked, once he finally became still. James used his arm that was wrapped around his shoulders to push a curl of hair that’d moved in front of his eyes back, trailing his fingers along his temple.

“Perfect,” he reassured, gently stroking his fingers along his scalp. 

Regulus hummed in contentment. 

“How was your night?” Regulus asked after a moment, his face hidden against James' chest. 

“Good,” James murmured, the night’s late hour slowly hitting him. He was going to pass out soon; he felt so warm and cosy, and the quiet of the room was relaxing after being in such chaos all night.

“Did Sirius have fun?”

His voice didn’t give anything away, but James felt his stomach sink a bit at the question.

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “I think he had a grand time. And I’ve been kicked out of my room for the remainder of the night, so there’s that.”

Regulus snickered quietly, and James felt himself smiling. They both so obviously loved each other still, and hopefully, soon, they’d be able to start showing it again. He just needed to ask Regulus about the holidays. And talk to Sirius about everything, too. 

That was a future-James' problem, however. 

Right now, James wasn’t going to say anything more at all. He was going to bask in the comfort of the couch, and fall asleep with Regulus safely pressed into his side. 

Chapter Text

The second week of November marked the first Quidditch match of the year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. 

Regulus stood on the Quidditch Pitch with his team. The night before, he and Evan had kept each other company, choosing to lie head-to-foot in his bed while Barty snored soundly in his own. They had closed the curtains around themselves, and much like the first time Evan had ever crawled into his bed to talk back in their third year, they had conjured a warm red orb of light to float between them at the height of the bedposts. Evan had dragged his bedding over so they could face each other, both still surrounded by blankets and pillows. 

They ended up just sleeping together. Evan clearly didn’t want to leave, nervous about his first match, and Regulus didn’t have the heart to kick him out. He didn’t mind so much anyway; Evan kept to his half and still managed to make less noise than Barty, no matter how close he was. Evan mentioned once that he had to share a bed with one of his older brothers growing up—with such a large family, he wasn’t very good at being on his own. Spending a night tucked against James’ side had altered Regulus' perspective on co-sleeping anyway. Unlike with James, they didn’t make any contact, but just knowing his presence was there was oddly reassuring and kept his anxiety at bay.

They’d discussed strategy and Gryffindor’s weaknesses while sleep evaded them. Despite only getting a couple of hours of rest in the end, Regulus was feeling as alert as ever. 

As Madam Hooch introduced the first game of the year, Regulus stared down the opposition intently. Their team was far more experienced than his own; the only chance they had would be if the Snitch was caught early in the game. 

Marlene and Sirius as Beaters together were a force to be reckoned with. They seemed to share a brain on the Pitch, in addition to being gender-bended versions of each other off of it.

Gryffindor’s Chasers were more experienced than their own, not to mention in their third year of working together. Frank and Alice were both seventh years, but James had gotten on the team as a third year, so they’d all been playing together equally as long. 

Gemma, Gryffindor's Keeper, was a seventh-year as well.

Their only new member this year was their Seeker—Micheal. 

Regulus would rather fall off his broom than let him get the Snitch. 

“Mount your brooms!” 

Straddling his broom steadily, Regulus let his attention wander for just a moment to James, giving him a wink. The older boy was a Quidditch fanatic, perhaps even the slightest bit of distraction could be to their benefit. It was uncomfortable for him to do—drawing attention to himself was out of character—but James looked like he was about to pass out, so Regulus figured it was worth it.

And they were off.

“End the game as soon as possible,” Flint growled at him, circling him once as the game began. The Captain had pulled him aside in the locker room to discuss what he and Evan had already determined—they were pretty much screwed if they let the game go on too long. Even if they got too far behind, though, Regulus was still to catch the Snitch in hopes of a less embarrassing scoreboard.  

Pulling up his Occlumency shields, Regulus pushed all thoughts of James, Flint and Evan out of his head. The Snitch was his only goal.

So he went looking. 

There was no real strategy for finding the Snitch. It moved randomly, so most Seekers just circled the game until they caught sight of it. Often, the Seekers stayed in close range of each other, so if one saw it, the other would still have a chance. The biggest advantage Regulus had in this game was that he’d been playing for two years, while this was Michael’s first match. 

Nerves could destroy somebody. The fact he was facing off Evan hopefully already had the git on edge. 

In a way that he’d never done before, Regulus started high-tailing it around the Pitch. He decided to sacrifice thoroughness for quantity and just focused on trying to cover as much air as he could. It threw Micheal for a loop, the other boy looking startled as he sped up as well, tailing Regulus closely.

“—and what a game already, folks! Gryffindor is in possession of the Quaffle! From Potter to Longbottom…and back to Potter! What a great curveball thrown by Frank there—and goal! 10 points for Gryffindor within the first minute of the game! A fantastic Finborough Flick—you just know Potter’s been practising that all summer—“

Show-off, Regulus scoffed to himself as a jolt of admiration passed through him. 

He circled the Pitch four times, frustration growing with each lap. There was still no sign of the Snitch. Gryffindor scored goal after goal, quickly obtaining a 40-point lead. If Regulus didn’t find it soon, there wouldn’t be much of a match left. 

“—Slytherin’s in possession! Marcus Flint, Slytherin’s Captain, is travelling up the field and—great pass to Jacob Bell! Slytherin has two new Chasers this year: Bell and Corban Kawoski. He throws and—brilliant save by Gemma! Back in Gryffindor’s possession—"

He flew higher, rising above the stadium to get a better view. The first drops of rain splattered on his goggles, and he sighed in annoyance. Of course, it's raining. 

“—from Alice to Frank to—back to Alice! Fantastic reverse pass by Frank again—he’s Captain for a reason, folks! We could see him playing International next year, I suspect! And—oh! Brilliant hit by Rosier, Slytherin’s newest Beater! Very green team they have out there today, in more ways than one! That one had to hurt—“

Evan had made perfect contact with the Bludger, knocking Alice on the shoulder and sending the Quaffle airborne. James and Marcus both started propelling towards the ground to regain possession. 

“—And Flint had got the ball! Good try there, Potter, but Marcus was just a hair's length ahead of him and—OH! HUGE HIT FROM GRYFFINDOR. THAT WAS DOUBLE CONTACT ON THE BLUDGER; SIRIUS BLACK AND MARLENE MCKINNON MADE HOGWARTS HISTORY WITH THAT PLAY. A Dopplebeater Defence, I think that’s called—“

Regulus watched with a wince as Flint hit the ground with a tumultuous roll. The Bludger had completely unseated Slytherin's Captain. They were down one Chaser and hadn’t scored a single goal yet. The game certainly wasn’t looking in their favour. 

He considered making a Wronski Feint, confident Micheal would fall for it, but the trick move would be better reserved for a closer-matched game. There was no point in revealing the skill to the whole school if they didn’t have a chance of winning. As time ticked by, it started to look more and more dire. 

Gryffindor was up 110 points, while his team hadn't even managed to score. Only 5 goals until the Snitch wouldn’t make a difference, Regulus thought. Where the hell is it?  He dove closer to the stadiums again, circling the field. Micheal had started zig-zagging in the air above him. Regulus tempered the bit of rage that flared in his chest just thinking of the other Seeker—the game score was inconsequential to him in comparison to defeating him personally. 

“—and the rain is really starting to come down, folks! I hope the players today remembered their Impervious Charms! Another goal for Gryffindor—they are winning by a landslide! Slytherin’s Keeper passes the ball to Jacob Bell, and he’s making his way down the field…Potter and Longbottom have him trapped!! They’ve closed him in…and the Quaffle is loose! It’s quickly picked up by Alice! Gryffindor’s Chasers are on fire today!—“

Regulus swore under his breath as they scored again. Emmett, Slytherin’s Keeper, started banging his head on his broom quite vigorously. He was playing a phenomenal game—he’d blocked over 100 shots. It didn’t make a difference when Slytherin couldn’t score any goals themselves, however. 

They were 140 points behind when he saw it. 

Time froze. 

The little golden ball flew past him from somewhere in the sky, hovering for just a moment outside of the area of play before dropping in. Slytherin had possession, and all the players were concentrated near the goalposts in Slytherin’s end. Nine players were all within twenty yards of each other, and the Snitch had just flown into the middle of the fray. If Regulus caught it now, though, Slytherin could still win. 

He pulled his broom into a spiral dive and then threw himself into the chaos. The play was moving towards Gryffindor’s goalposts quickly. He was twenty feet from the Snitch. 

Bell passed to Corban. He leaned forward to gain momentum. Ten feet from the Snitch. 

A Gryffindor Chaser tried to intercept Corban, but he spun out of the way easily. Eight feet from the Snitch. 

Regulus leaned forward even more, hands white-knuckled on his broomstick. The world was a blur passing him. He wasn’t aware of even how close the ground was to him—the only thing he was focused on was the Snitch. Micheal was nowhere to be found—It was his. 

He saw it in front of him: the perfect ball, its gold colour bright even in the rain and its wings soaking wet. It was his. 

He loosened his grip on his broomstick, ready to grab it in just one more foot. 

It. Was. His.

And then everything exploded in pain. 

He yelled out instinctively, thighs tightening their hold on his broomstick as he spun out of control. His neck snapped from the velocity, colours assaulting his eyes in a blur as his stomach dropped out of his abdomen. Regulus clung on for his life, flipping uncontrollably through the air. As suddenly as it happened, he stopped, his body jolting forward as he gained control of his broomstick. He gasped for breath as he tried to navigate his surroundings. 

It took his brain a moment to process what had happened.

He’d been right there, reaching for the Snitch, when—

The pain suddenly kicked in, a sharp sting getting shot up his arm. His breath came out in a wet gasp, and he looked at his limb automatically. The first thing he noticed was that his sleeve was torn. 

The second thing he realised was that the white shouldn’t be there.

Oh fuck—

He wondered briefly why it didn’t hurt very much; having a bone sticking out of your arm seemed like something that should hurt a lot.

And then he realised he might’ve been in a bit of shock. 

Stable on his broom now, at least, he took a shaky breath inwards and cradled his arm to his chest. Best not to look at it too much.

He forced another breath into his lungs and brought his attention back to the game. The benefit of having crippling anxiety most days was that he was rather good now at handling it in stressful events. Practice makes perfect.

“—bloody hell, is that bone?—" the announcer was babbling unhelpfully. 

Regulus glanced towards the Gryffindor posts to find the play. His attention was drawn to Sirius, who stood just four broom lengths away, staring at him with wide eyes. Sirius' Beater bat hung at his side, his face an unattractive shade of pale.

That mother-fucker, Regulus swore in his head, recognising his expression of guilt easily. He broke my fucking arm! 

Frank had gotten possession at some point during his wipe-out and was travelling towards the Slytherin goalposts at a high speed. Regulus broke his gaze away from Sirius and started travelling a bit higher in the air. The Snitch hadn’t been caught if the match was still on, so Micheal must not have seen it. Regulus still had a chance. 

“—and that Bludger was from Sirius! The Black brothers' rivalry knows no bounds as he completely obliterated Regulus' arm—"

Gryffindor was ahead by 150 points, soon to be more. A tie game would result in overtime, which Regulus was confident Slytherin would lose. He didn’t really care about that anymore; they may have lost the match, but he could still beat Micheal. 

He thought of Violet and Evan, and rage filled him even more.

The little prick. 

Regulus made smaller circles on his broom, searching tirelessly. With each minute, his arm throbbed more and more, but he refused to so much as acknowledge it. He’d deal with that after he caught the Snitch. 

From the ground, Slughorn and Pomfrey waved at him to come down. He ignored them, scanning the field more intently. The arm could wait; he had a vendetta to settle. 

“—looks like Black is refusing; younger Black that is, of course! Slytherin’s down 150-0, not sure what he’s hoping will happen, but we have to appreciate the devotion—"

Suddenly, Micheal lunged forward on his broom, and Regulus took off right behind him. Not a chance in hell, he snarled. 

It was more difficult to keep his balance with one arm, and impossibly harder to turn, but Regulus fully committed to the dive Micheal led them into. The hardest part would be catching the Snitch, but like he decided at the start of the game, he’d rather fall off his broom than let Micheal get it. 

He and Micheal were flying neck to neck. The ground was approaching faster and faster, but the Snitch didn’t change its course, hurtling towards the ground with no signs of stopping. They’d reached a speed Regulus wouldn’t be able to break out of with one arm; there was no turning back anymore. 

They were nearly at the ground when the Snitch suddenly darted forward and began ascending. Micheal pulled back on his broomstick and slowed, preparing to change his course to follow it. 

Regulus knew there was no way he could change his momentum now. Not while on his broom, at least. 

With very little thought, he tucked his legs in front of him and placed his feet on the broom, letting go with his good hand. With all his might, he pushed off, throwing his body forward. Looking down, he saw the Snitch flying towards him—he’d managed to position himself right along the Snitch's new path.

It hit his stomach, and he curled around it, securing it with his good hand and cradling it practically like a baby. 

He passed Micheal next on his way to the ground.

Fuck you.

And then he shut his eyes, ready for the impact. 

His head made contact first, but it didn’t so much as jar him. Next was his shoulder, and he had the disorientating feeling of somersaulting as he rolled out of control. Soft piles of feathers met him at every inch, though, or at least it felt like it. 

He slowed to a stop, legs out in front of him and in a sitting position, still a couple of feet above the grass. 

“—he’s got the Snitch! Regulus Black has caught the Snitch—Gryffindor wins 160-150, but what an absolute game Black has had!”

He took a few deep breaths. 

Well, I did it. 

The Cushioning Charm was dropped from under him, and he found himself levitated gently to the ground. Sitting on his arse, he screwed his eyes shut for a moment, bracing himself, before looking down to his lap. In his left hand was the Snitch. His right arm was looking much the same as it had the last time he’d looked at it, however. His shirt’s sleeve covered most of his area, but bone was clearly sticking out from just above his wrist, piercing through the shirt. Bloodied water covered the exposed skin, made visible by the fabric's tear. 

Bloody hell.

“Bloody hell!” came a familiar voice as Evan landed beside him. He knelt to his side, placing his hand under Regulus’ own. “Pretty sure that’s supposed to be inside,” he joked, meeting Regulus' eyes to give him a warm smile before looking back at the wound. 

Evan had lines around his eyes from where his goggles had been pressed against his face, and a gnarly bruise already forming on his right cheekbone, but otherwise, he looked okay. With gentle hands, he started pulling off Regulus' glove, finger by finger.

“That’s it, darling, nice and gentle,” Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over them from down the field. She gave Regulus a stern look, “You should’ve come down when I asked you to, Mr. Black.”

He shrugged, biting back the gasp that tried to escape his mouth when it caused a flare-up of pain. “Couldn’t very well catch the Snitch from down here,” he replied steadily. 

His glove was off now, and while looking even whiter than normal, his hand looked intact. He wiggled a couple of fingers testily, biting his cheek to remain quiet when a sharp pain shot up his arm. He wouldn't be trying that again.

“I’m going to take your goggles off now,” Evan said, waiting a moment for Regulus to nod his consent. Noticing Madam Hooch by Evan's side, he passed the Snitch to her wordlessly. 

“You are a very lucky man that Madam Pomfrey’s Cushioning Charm is so supple,” she scolded. 

Regulus nodded. “Indeed.” Evan was working on his other glove now.

“That was a damn good game of Quidditch you played,” Madam Hooch whispered suddenly, likely so the other witch wouldn’t hear. He bit his lip at the compliment, his heart soaring.

Regulus glanced over to the Gryffindor team to see them celebrating their win as Evan pocketed his gloves. Sirius was standing just outside of the dog pile, staring directly at them. Regulus stared at him blankly for a minute, unable to make out his expression. He glanced away when Evan ripped open the rest of his sleeve with his hands, pulling the fabric outwards and then up so his forearm was exposed. 

The bone was sticking out about two inches, its edges jagged and fractured. His skin was split open grotesquely around it, pink water pouring from the wound as rain dowsed it in constant splatters. His eyes locked onto it for a moment in sick fascination, his brain struggling to process the fact it was his arm he was looking at.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t block the Bludger,” Evan said as he stood up carefully. He held out his hand to Regulus, helping pull him to his feet. “I didn’t even see you.”

Regulus shook his head. “Not your fault, the Snitch flew right into the middle of the play. I only dove for it since we had a chance of winning. It was a risky move.”

“I didn’t see the Snitch either," Evan commented. "No one did—not even Micheal.” Evan picked up both their brooms and walked beside him as they made their way off the field, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey. 

“Well, apparently Sirius did,” Regulus muttered. 

“I don’t think he meant to hit you, honestly,” Evan said, his voice lowered.

Regulus frowned. “Pretty hard hit for an accident.” 

Evan shrugged. He knew not to push things regarding Sirius much. “I think he was aiming for Jacob—he was behind you and had the Quaffle. Doesn’t matter, though—just thought I’d mention it.”

It didn’t matter either way, he told himself firmly, focusing on getting to the Hospital Wing. If his and Sirius’ relationship were better, he’d probably be trying to fight him right now. As in stood, being in no contact was probably a blessing. 

. . .

Later that night, Regulus lay in the Hospital Wing staring at the ceiling, the clock reading past two am. 

Madam Pomfrey had ‘tsk tsk’d’ over his arm when she assessed him earlier in the day, stating it’d been ‘just as she expected’. Some of his bone was missing in action, likely lying in the dirt on the Quidditch Pitch. She’d placed what had remained into their proper places and stabilised the fracture with a tightly wound Bandaging Charm, but then she broke the news to him: he was placed on strict bedrest overnight while they regrew the bone back. It felt like large splinters were being shoved in his arm repeatedly since he’d drank that awful potion she’d given him. 

Regulus sighed, shifting in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. His friends had kept him company as long as they could, but Dorcas was the only one who had the foresight to bring him anything to do when they were inevitably kicked out of the infirmary. He was grateful for her consideration and the magazines she'd left for him to peruse, but that was hours ago now. He'd read all of them cover-to-cover and learned more about the latest hat fashion than he ever cared to. The magazines now sat sadly at his bedside table. He’d set them down with the determination to try to sleep, but it evaded him.  

His mind was as alert as ever despite foregoing his second night of restlessness. 

He glanced over at the window, the moon casting a soft glow into the room, highlighting the shadows dancing on the walls. The quiet of the night seemed to amplify the sounds of the castle settling, the occasional creak and groan echoing through the corridors. 

It was stupid, but he half expected James to show up with his Invisibility Cloak. They had agreed to meet up this evening following whatever team celebrations they (James) would have to attend, even if it was late at night. He refused to let himself be disappointed, though. He shouldn’t have hoped for it at all—they were just hooking up after all. 

Except they weren’t hooking up, not really.

James just wanted to kiss him. He’d made it clear that he hadn’t wanted to go any further, and at first, it made Regulus worried that something was wrong. But now that he'd gotten used to it, it was nice. Even that first kiss, James had asked if he could do it. It made Regulus feel safe—like he could trust James, and would always know what to expect. 

And it made cuddling so much better. Knowing that it wasn’t going to progress any further let Regulus shut his mind off and just enjoy the moment. He had spent half the night awake when they first shared the couch, debating if he should sneak off to his room long after James had fallen asleep, except he found himself unable to. It was nice, and it was something he wasn't sure he'd ever get again. 

Regulus made the terribly self-destructive decision that night to try to enjoy it while he could. It didn’t seem possible that James Potter could actually like him, but, well, the evidence suggested he did. For now, at least. For now, until he noticed the rotten and dark parts of Regulus, and realised he deserved better. 

Because he did. 

James deserved beautiful and good and clean. He deserved someone better. Someone more…equal. 

The sound of shuffling interrupted his musings. Regulus sat up in the bed carefully, the blankets pooling at his waist. His heart swelled, asking James? but no one made themselves known. 

His eyes fixated on the darkness of the shadowed room, straining to make out what had made the noise. Regulus grabbed his wand off the bedside table after a beat passed, and nothing happened, his stomach fluttering in anticipation as a tense silence resumed. He was certain he'd heard something. 

Another shuffle sounded, and then the clicks of nails on the hard stone floor. Regulus watched as a shadow appeared beyond the divider, sectioning his bed off from the rest of the room. He adjusted his grip on his wand testily as it grew in length and warped into a monstrous shape, the clacks of claws slowly getting louder as they made their way toward him. 

He had never been the best at reverse-wand holding. His left hand felt sloppy, and the flicks and swishes it produced were always malformed and careless. Evan suggested he tie his good hand behind his back for a month or so at a time, like his father had done to him when he was younger, to hone the skill and force ambidexterity. Regulus couldn’t very well do it at Hogwarts, though, and he wasn’t dumb enough to try to do it at home. His parents were politicians, not warriors. They’d scorn the technique. 

Regulus felt defenceless as the creature grew nearer, however, and he wished he’d taken his advice. 

He directed his wand tip towards the noise as its shadows morphed into long legs, its steps growing louder and louder. He could make out a large body behind the divider, stalking towards the entrance to his bed, and then…

A black snout looked around the thin white barrier, yellow eyes catching his own. It paused briefly, looking at him analytically before walking towards his bedside, revealing its body.

It was massive.

The lumbering dog must’ve been the size of a wolf. Its hair was inky, long in length and curled in a loose shag. His ears sat high atop his head, the left sticking straight up while the right one flopped forward over itself goofily. It could probably fit my entire head in its mouth if it wanted to, Regulus realised. 

The dog paused a couple of feet from his bed, tilting its head curiously. Regulus couldn’t help but feel it was waiting for something. Their eyes locked on one another, both unmoving. Regulus glanced around in uncertainty after a moment, but other than the dog, the room remained unchanged. He licked his lips, contemplating. 

Should he yell out for Madam Pomfrey? Should he send a Stinging Hex and hope it’d scare the beast off?

But then the dog whimpered, dropping its head pitifully. Regulus lowered his wand, taking in the creature fully. Its ears were drooping forward, its eyes big and sad-looking. It didn’t look vicious at all; no, if anything, it looked a bit pathetic. 

“Hi,” Regulus said, trying to make his voice sound kind. He’d never had a dog before, but he’d seen how the Muggles talked to them in the park near Grimmauld Place and on the road as they walked them by. They liked to be spoken to like a baby, he was pretty sure. 

“Are you uh—are you a good boy?” he asked dumbly, trying to keep his tone soft and pitch high. 

A shuffle emitted from near the divider, and he snapped his eyes towards the noise, raising his wand again. Nothing was there, but he swore he had heard a muffled laugh. Maybe a passing ghost. 

A loud yip drew Regulus' attention back to the dog, who was wiggling with excitement. It shuffled from foot to foot as its ass wagged happily. It seemed to be trying to tame itself, though, resisting the urge to come any closer. 

“I guess you are a good boy,” he said dumbly again, accidentally dropping the baby voice. The dog didn’t seem to mind, however, and jerked its head in agreement. Regulus laughed despite himself. The oversized monstrosity was an absolute sucker for attention. Feeling a bit more brave, he placed his wand back on the bedside table and held his hand out for the dog to examine. 

It closed the distance between them without hesitation, shoving its large head against his palm. Regulus laughed again as its wet noise pressed against his wrist and breathed in his scent. It put its front legs onto the bed and jumped up without an invitation, shoving its snout unceremoniously against Regulus' face. He flinched back automatically, trying to distance himself from the cold dampness of its nose. The dog persisted, though, sniffing and examining his head and neck vigorously, practically crawling onto him as it lapped at his jaw with its wet tongue. 

“Hey, hey, that's enough—” Regulus said through his giggles, leaning back up against the head of the bed as far as he could go. He stayed still as the canine sniffed his entire face and then back down to his neck. Finally, the dog seemed satisfied, spinning in two small circles before laying down so it was facing him.

Raising its large eyes to his, it started whining again.

“Hey—shh! Madam Pomfrey’s going to hear,” he scolded. The dog huffed, trying to hold back its whimpers, looking distraught. After a moment, it seemed to give in to its urges and crawled across his lap, jutting its nose toward his broken arm. It sniffed the offending limb gently, running its snout up and down the cast, and then, in a flash of pink, licked it. Regulus rubbed the back of the dog's head affectionately as it pressed itself into his stomach, sniffling in a way that almost sounded human.

“It’s okay,” Regulus consoled. “All better now. Doesn’t even hurt anymore—the bone’s all grown back, good as new.” He chuckled to himself, remembering the hunk that had to be regrown in the first place. “Actually, some of my old one is out on the Pitch somewhere, if you wanted to look for a treat.”

He knew the dog couldn’t understand him, but he swore it started whimpering again at his statement. 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Dogs love bones,” he laughed.

It growled suddenly, a low vibration that made the entire bed seem to tremble. Regulus' hand froze in midair, his fingers inches from the dog's neck. That was not a happy noise. 

After a tense moment, the growl ceased abruptly, replaced by a soft nudge against his hand. The dog looked up at him apologetically, its tail thumping on the bed a couple of times. Regulus resumed his petting after a moment, albeit a bit more gently. He didn’t want to end up mauled. 

It wasn't long before the dog started sniffing again, following its nose to his other arm. With its snout, it pushed Regulus' sleeve forward, uncovering some of the injuries there. Madam Pomfrey had assumed they were from the match, letting it go without further questioning. Regulus wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd realised. If she'd looked a bit more closely—if he'd let her get a good look at them—it might have been clear these weren’t injuries that could happen unintentionally, but it had become second nature to keep them from sight. He’d been hiding them for too many years to slip up now.

At a long whine, Regulus sighed and pulled his arm away. He used the surface of the bed to help pull his sleeve back into place, fingering the fabric at his wrist as if to hold it in place. The dog had stopped, but its yellow eyes remained glued to his face, its gaze uncanny. Regulus frowned, feeling uncomfortable when it didn't look away. It almost felt as if it was judging him.

"Stop it," he scolded quietly, nudging the dog to lie back down. It obliged with minimal prodding, pressing up to his side so he could scratch its ears and neck. Silence lapsed around them, the minutes passing by noted only by the ticking of the clock. Regulus' eyelids were starting to feel heavy before the dog moved again, giving his hand a big lick and then jumping off the bed. He curled up on his side, snuggling absent-mindedly into the warmth it'd left behind. He was halfway asleep, his vision cloudy as he tracked the dog's movements across the room. 

It looked back at Regulus before it disappeared behind the divider, tail wagging lazily. 

"Bye, pup," he said softly. A part of him was sad to see it go, but it was probably for the best. He doubted Madam Pomfrey wanted dogs running around in her infirmary. "Thank you for your visit," he whispered. Regulus swore it nodded its head to him, as if to acknowledge him, before trotting away to the exit. As the sound of its nails faded, he was once again left in silence. It seemed more bearable this time, the shadows not as long, and his mind not so on edge. Even his arm was painless now.

He wondered if it was one of the professors? Likely Hagrid’s, he thought tiredly, as everything faded away.  

In just a few minutes, he was sleeping. 

Chapter Text

“Regulus!” James leapt up from the couch the moment the door opened. It’d been just a couple of days since he’d seen the younger boy, but so much had happened. James tried to be gentle when he pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Regulus so he was snug against his chest.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you last night.”

And James was. Even though he had seen him—twice, in fact. It was just that neither time Regulus had seen him. He felt like a horrible person—his (boyfriend?) had been hurt in the Hospital Wing and probably thought that James didn’t even care enough to visit him. 

The first time he tried, Regulus had been surrounded by his friends. It was strange seeing the Slytherins so at ease, unaware they were being watched. While James liked Dorcas well enough—friendly with her from all the time she spent with Marlene and Lily—seeing Evan and Barty so chatty and relaxed was a bit like watching a Dugbog try to walk on its hind legs. Barty had been trying to convince the others to hang their heads off the side of the bed. Apparently, if they did it long enough, their vision would flip right-side-up. James had been intrigued, honestly, but had to leave before he could find out if Barty was telling the truth.

The second time was with Sirius.

James hadn’t expected him to transform into Padfoot and interact with Regulus, but maybe it was just the thing that they needed to start repairing their relationship.

It was so sweet. Regulus had been more open and childish than James had ever seen him before. He giggled softly and let Padfoot cuddle him in bed, smiling as Sirius assessed his injuries and apologised in his own way. Padfoot, unable to hide his emotions in his dog form, was raw and vocal in his worry for his brother, but Regulus had accepted his attention with glee.

James could’ve cried; it was one of the most beautiful moments he'd ever witnessed. He knew it was everything Sirius ever wanted—no, it was everything he needed, even if he wouldn’t admit it. It was just too bad he was doing it as Padfoot instead of, well…

Sirius.

Regulus looked amused when he pulled away. “It’s okay, James. I’m fine. I knew you would be celebrating and whatnot.”

“I tried to get away—I just couldn’t. Sirius was really upset about what happened, and it was nearly four by the time he fell asleep. I wanted to come see you, though, I swear.”

Regulus' face darkened at the mention of Sirius, but he didn’t comment on it. “Like I said, it’s fine. I don’t care.” He said it a bit more sternly, obviously trying to convey that the conversation was over. 

James couldn’t let it go, though; the memory of Regulus scratching behind Padfoot's ear and grinning to himself was burned into his brain.

“He didn’t mean to hit you," James tried to explain. "He felt dead guilty about it—was worried sick.”

And Sirius had been. He’d taken off before they'd even reached the changing room after the game, disappearing for hours. When he’d finally returned, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and his mood volatile. He had spent the entire night trying to provoke Mary into fighting with him, and then others when she didn't rise to the bait. When it passed two and Sirius was still pacing about their room in agitation, James had dragged him under the Cloak and insisted they just quickly check on his brother. Sirius refused to admit the Quidditch accident was bothering him, but the only person he'd actually managed to convince of that was himself.

“Right,” Regulus said, but his voice was cold. “Like I said: I. Don’t. Care. I am fine. If you want to talk about how you spent your evening with Sirius, however, I’ll take my leave.”

James blanched. Regulus was grumpy sometimes but never—

He’s mad at me, he realised quickly. Properly mad. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologised again. “When I realised how hurt you were, I wanted to come right away, but I knew that I couldn’t be seen there, and then I couldn’t just leave my dorm with Sirius—"

Regulus stepped away from him, his eyes venomous. James clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m leaving,” Regulus said suddenly, turning on his heel.

In a panic, James reached out to grab his wrist. Regulus tried to pull away, wincing as his arm twisted. James let go immediately, snatching his hand back as if he'd been burned.

“Oh no—I’m sorry!” James stared at Regulus' injured arm, his chest heaving. It felt like everything was falling apart, grains of sand slipping through his fingers. 

Regulus stood about a foot away from him now, but he wasn’t trying to leave anymore, at least. He was still angry—his shoulders raised, and his mouth in a frown—but his eyes softened when they met James'.

“I’m fine,” he reassured quickly, cutting off James as he opened his mouth to apologise again. “And I’ll stay if you listen to me. I don’t care that you didn’t come last night; I wasn’t expecting you to. You had a celebration with your team, and I understand that, okay? I’m not your girlfriend or something. I know how things are. And I understand how things are with Sirius. I know that he’s gonna come first, but—" Regulus’ voice grew tight for a moment. He paused to take a deep breath before speaking again, his voice controlled when he did. “I know he’s gonna come first, okay? I just don’t want to hear about it.”

James felt his eyebrows pull together. “It’s not like that,” he tried to argue feebly. It’s not that Sirius came first—it was that he didn’t know yet, and James couldn’t have left without telling him. Regulus wasn’t... It wasn’t that he was unimportant to him, or even that he was less important than Sirius. It had just been the circumstances.

Regulus had to understand that, right?

“It’s fine,” Regulus said again, his voice tinged with desperation. “I get it, and it’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. But if this is too much, with Sirius and me. Then it’s okay. We can stop.”

James shook his head. “No,” he said automatically, then collecting his thoughts, said again more slowly: “No. I—I really like you. A lot. And I care about you a lot. I don’t want to stop.”

“Alright. Then just trust me when I say it’s fine. I don't expect you to drop everything for me, so stop saying sorry."

James nodded, but his heart hurt in a way that felt like it was the wrong thing to be doing. He wanted to drop everything for Regulus. He wanted him to expect that—to know when things were bad that James would be there. That he’d want to be there for him.

I’ll do better, he promised himself. He wouldn’t make Regulus feel like he was unimportant again. 

“I brought some stuff for us. Tonight,” James said shyly, gesturing towards the coffee table. “Just some snacks and drinks. And my dad—Well, I think you know, but he's a Potion’s Master. And he made this cream, helps with muscle aches and stuff. I brought it for you, in case you wanted to use it. Or, I, uh. I could give you a massage.”

He was suddenly self-conscious of the spread he had put out on the table. He’d wanted to do something nice, to celebrate Regulus’ brilliant game yesterday and to make up for not seeing him while he was in the infirmary, but now he felt like it might’ve been a bad idea. 

Regulus' eyes widened though, his lips turning upwards in a soft smile as he looked at the pile. “You did all of this for me?”  

James looked at the sad assortment of items he had brought. It wasn’t anything crazy—he had gotten some pastries from the kitchen, a few bananas and other fruits, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. He nodded in confirmation, looking back to Regulus hopefully. 

Regulus bit his lip, suddenly looking ashamed. “I’m sorry I picked a fight with you,” he apologised. “I just don’t like thinking about that stuff.”

James didn’t trust himself not to make things worse again with his words, so he closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug instead, kissing his forehead firmly. Then he leaned down to meet his lips.

“You’re important to me,” he settled on saying.

. . .

James had found a new favourite hobby.

Feeding Regulus (particularly strawberries). 

It was absolutely sinful the way his teeth bit through the juicy red fruit, his lips grazing James’ fingertips as he collected the bite in his mouth, his pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips clean afterwards. James hadn’t realised it was going to be such a debauched act to watch—he had just held the strawberry out playfully for Regulus to eat, thinking it sounded romantic.

Now, he was obsessed, dragging a pillow onto his lap, pretending that Regulus wasn’t seeing right through his pathetic attempt for dignity.

He’d thought about doing more. And he wanted to. He was at serious risk of being the last to lose his virginity; only he and Peter were left now. Remus reported making good use of the privacy of the Prefect’s bathroom with Rhys, and Sirius had lost his two years before to one of his flings. 

Regulus hadn’t tried to do anything more since that first night, and while a part of James wished he would, another part was just so happy at seeing how happy Reg was. He was younger than him, and beyond that was Sirius’ little brother. James knew that he’d be telling Sirius soon about it, and he had to make sure Sirius wouldn’t have any qualms about how he’d been treating him. 

He’d let Regulus set the pace. 

These strawberries were making him question his decision, though. 

“Mmm,” Regulus hummed, licking his lips clean once more and grinning at James. “Those are my favourite.”

James just nodded dumbly. “Me too.”

“You haven’t even tried any yet," Regulus smirked. 

James couldn’t tear his gaze away from him. “I don’t need to, honestly.”

Regulus barked a laugh then, playfully pushing James' shoulder. "Well, you should," he teased. Leaning across the table, he reached for a strawberry, stretching his torso with the effort. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he held the berry delicately by its green leaves, presenting it to James.

James leaned forward to bite it. Sweet juices exploded into his mouth as he bit down. His lips brushed Regulus’ fingers as he ate the fruit, and a bit exaggerated, he used his tongue to catch some juices threatening to run down his chin, flicking it against Regulus’ fingertip in the act. He closed his eyes as he pulled away, making satisfied noises.

“Yeah, that’s delicious,” he confirmed, chewing it slowly before swallowing. He opened his eyes to find Regulus staring at him, gaze hungry, and hand still clutching the remains of the strawberry. 

Regulus turned to drop the hull onto the table beside them. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet James' gaze, a playful gleam in his eye. With a teasing smile, he brought his fingers up to his mouth, slowly licking them with well-controlled swipes of his tongue. 

Cleaning his middle and index fingers first, he then moved to his thumb, sucking it briefly before withdrawing with a smirk, his eyes never leaving James'. 

James forgot how to breathe, a rush of heat spreading through him. Bloody hell.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Regulus asked after a moment, eyes watching him steadily. 

James swallowed hard. The silver of Regulus’ iris entranced him; he felt unable to look away.

“Yeah,” he breathed, voice cracking. 

“So kiss me.”

James bit his lip. “I might have a hard time stopping.”

Regulus shrugged and pushed forward onto his knees so they were nose to nose. “Don’t stop then.”

. . .

Coming in his pants probably shouldn’t have felt so good. 

He wasn’t sure if this was what Regulus had in mind when they began snogging. It wasn’t what James had in mind, but there hadn’t been a lot of thoughts going on in his head at all, to be honest. It'd gone stupid the moment he saw Regulus eating that damn strawberry. Everything that happened afterwards was driven by the instinct of 'that feels good' and 'don't stop.' 

He couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed. It wasn't just him that arrived early to the party, after all. 

Regulus had his head pressed into the nook of James’ neck. He could feel his hot breath on his skin there. Regulus was still lying on top of him mostly, arms wrapped around his neck to his shoulder and hair, and one of his knees pressed between his legs, tangling them together. James had one of his own hands knotted through his black curls, and the other was cupping his arse. He slowly trailed that one up over his hip and to Regulus' lower back. 

James untucked his shirt the rest of the way and slipped his hand under his button-up to his skin. He moved his hand up his spine in one fluid brush, Regulus' skin felt hot and sticky against his palm. He adjusted his hand so just his fingertips made contact, and absent-mindedly started drawing gentle squiggles all along his back. He turned his head to the right, kissing his ear firmly. 

“I liked that,” he whispered, his throat gravelly. Regulus shivered as his fingers continued to gently explore his skin. “Did you?”

Regulus lifted his head and turned to face James as well as he could without disrupting the massage. He kissed his cheek gently, “I liked that,” he repeated back. 

They remained that way, their faces just millimetres from each other and no space between their bodies. I could live like this, James was pretty sure. After a while, he could feel Regulus shivering against his body, though, so he pulled his shirt back down and moved to sit up. Reg rolled off him without complaint, the air hitting James' skin where the other boy had been covering him before, cool and refreshing. 

“Want to cuddle?” he asked, smiling at Regulus’ quick nod of confirmation. He pulled himself up to the couch, grabbing a few blankets off the back of it as he settled.

“Come,” he ordered, patting the cushion in front of him. Regulus obeyed quickly, slipping between the V of his thighs. James lifted his other leg onto the couch, effectively trapping him, and then tugged Regulus backwards so he was lying against his chest. James tossed the blankets over them, cocooning them in warmth.

Reg was shaking more than he thought the temperature of the room called for, but he didn’t comment. Regulus was always layered up in sweaters and cloaks—he seemed to get cold easily. It was really cute, honestly, and keeping him warm was a job James was more than happy to do. Once the blankets were settled, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, kissing the crown of his head firmly. 

“I like you so much,” he said again, holding onto him tightly. “I like you so much, and I missed you so much last night. When I heard about how bad your arm was, I completely panicked. I wanted to be with you more than anything.”

Regulus might’ve hummed something in response, but it was lost in the rustle of blankets as he rolled onto his side so his face was pressed against James’ chest. He stretched his neck to look up at him, his eyes shiny with emotion.

“Thank you again for everything... And I’m sorry for getting mad at you earlier.”

“You’re allowed to get mad when something upsets you," James brushed it off. "And the night's not over yet—once you're up to it, I believe I mentioned a massage. Or we can put on a movie, or just talk. Whatever you'd like.”

Regulus shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No no no—I want you to choose. But if you ask nicely, I reckon we can probably do it all.”

Regulus rolled his eyes but took a readying breath. His face went serious, and when he looked back up, his eyes were wide and glistening.

“Please, James, may we do all three?” he asked in a sweet voice, batting his long eyelashes dramatically. James felt his eyebrows raise, laughing in glee at his innocent expression. 

“Merlin, okay—we’ll do all three,” he surrendered quickly, unable to stop smiling.

He liked this version of Regulus: soft and cuddly. He liked all versions of him, but this felt special. This side of him he knew was just for him.

Chapter Text

Regulus frowned as a black eagle owl glided towards the Slytherin table at breakfast. It was undoubtedly his father's owl—easily recognisable, although rarely seen. His parents did not write needless letters, particularly not to him. He glanced at Sirius out of habit, finding his eyes already on him.

Out of habit as well, he assumed.

Even if they weren’t to be considered family anymore, there was a bond between them that no one else could replicate. Only siblings had shared upbringings; even if you recounted every detail of your life to another person, they still wouldn't have actually experienced it. Not the way a brother has.

No one else comprehended the way their mother had yelled at them or the suffocating feeling of being scrutinised under their father's stern gaze, like an animal on a butcher's table. No one else had heard the distinct click of Walburga's shoes as she walked down the hallways, or the heavy thuds of Orion's footsteps that seemed to resonate through the house. Only they understood the fear that accompanied hearing such noises coming toward their rooms.

But only they knew the tender moments that had once made them feel like a family too, like Walburga's dishevelled appearance in the mornings, or Orion's drunken tears. Only they knew the sound of their mother's laughter after her third glass of wine or the sight of Orion wiping their faces free of crumbs following dessert. No one else had witnessed their father's paternal love, like the meteor showers on their ceilings to soothe their sleepless nights, or heard the calming sound of Walburga's lullabies.

Sirius may have chosen a different path, but it would never change the fact that he had sprouted from the very same pot and soil which Regulus had.

All this to say, only Sirius truly understood how it felt to receive a letter from their parents on an unsuspecting Thursday.

Regulus pulled his eyes away as the large bird landed on the table in front of him. It held out its leg, flying away the moment the letter was untied from it. It didn’t expect treats, and it hadn’t wanted a reply.

Lucius will be at The Hog’s Head this upcoming Saturday, December 4. He looks forward to your presence. 

Be there by noon hour, and ensure that introductions are made to any classmates who show promise. 

May good fortune precede you,

Lord Black

Regulus read it twice. And then he read it a third time.

Excitement conceded to fear: the war was getting closer. 

“Everything okay?” Evan asked.

Regulus sighed. It was a discussion that wouldn’t do well to be heard by the other’s ears. Suggesting they move to the dormitory, he excused them from breakfast, Barty and Dorcas nodding at them knowingly.  

Sitting on Regulus’ bed only minutes later, Evan pulled the curtains shut around them and cast a Muffliato Charm. Next, he illuminated the space with the warm red orb they always used during these moments. Only then did he ask,

“Has something happened with the war?”

He and Evan became close friends for many reasons. Evan’s insistence and kindness, for one. Being forced into close proximity with each other for five years as dorm mates, of course. They also shared one thing which no one else in their friend group could quite understand though: belonging to a family who was not only sided in the war, but actively participating.

"Not quite," Regulus began, passing him the note. "Lucius is going to be at the Hog’s Head during the next Hogsmeade weekend recruiting. Father expects me to help his efforts."

Evan stayed quiet as he read the note, a small furrow appearing between his eyebrows. His eyes flicked to the top of the paper when he finished, reading the letter several times before lowering it. He leaned back when he was done, looking back at Regulus.

“I should go,” he said eventually.

Should, not want.

“It would not be unreasonable for me not to ask any fifth years.”

Evan’s eyes flashed up to his own. Neither spoke for a moment. They rarely discussed the war or their position in it, but there was always a tone of dishonesty in their conversations when they did. Having doubts, or fears, could be heard as treason. 

And the Dark Lord was not someone you wanted to give reason to suspect treason.

“I—" Evan looked flustered, running his fingers through his hair as he thought. It had gotten long over the months they’d been at school. It seemed darker, too. Each year, it moved closer from blonde to brown, its fair tones fading with his youthfulness. “I don’t want you to have to go alone.”

Regulus paused, considering Evan's words. It was another half-answer, with no solid reason for Evan to join him except for feeling pressured that he should.

“It’s just introductions,” he said steadily. “No need to rush into anything yet.”

Evan looked at him with such gratefulness Regulus had to look away. "I’ll still come to Hogsmeade with you," he said eagerly, as if it were an apology. "I need to find Violet a gift."

Regulus nodded. He wished he had a choice not to go.

They sat in silence a few moments longer, contemplating their futures.  

Evan looked up uncertainly as seconds stretched to minutes, holding his gaze as their eyes met once again. Before he spoke, Regulus could tell what he was going to say was big. His lip was swollen from worrying it, and a deep crease was formed between his eyebrows.

“Reg, do you ever wonder,” Evan asked carefully, “what it'd be like to be a part of a different family?”

Regulus’ eyes widened. Saying it made it real. It was a line they hadn’t crossed before. Their paths had been set out since birth, and discussing other options seemed pointless, even dangerous. But,

It was just Evan.

The realisation calmed him. They had shared hundreds of secrets behind the security of their bed curtains, and not once had it ever hurt him. Maybe it was okay to admit to having doubts when it was just the two of them. It seemed more and more likely Evan had been having them, too.

Regulus always imagined having a mum and dad who loved him, or an older brother that’d give him advice and fight to protect him. To have someone in the stands at his Quidditch matches that was cheering him on or would show up at his hospital bed when he was injured. To have a family that actually liked him, shyness and all.

Regulus didn’t have that. But he did have Evan, who did all the same with unwavering loyalty. Who came from as little love as himself but somehow had it in himself to project it tenfold.

"Often," he replied honestly, forcing himself to keep his head held high even as every instinct in his body urged him to hide, as if his words had a life of their own and would burn him. "I’m only going to say this once, Evan. I know you’re aware of the consequences if I do. If you don’t want to follow the same path as your brothers, I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me, I promise."

The Rosiers were all Death Eaters, but they weren’t old money like the Blacks were, despite their close relation. They were soldiers—fighters. Even Evan’s father was just a grunt worker, often away on missions and attacks, with little say over his orders. 

They were just pawns. 

Regulus’ family were chess players. Many of them did not even have the Mark despite being some of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. They financially backed his side of the war. They recruited and trained. His family owned Hogwarts. They owned Wizengamots. They owned half the Ministry and its Aurors. They owned every Dark Wizard in Britain. 

There was no escaping for him.

But…

But maybe there was for Evan.

“Reg,” Evan looked pained, his understanding clear. “I talk with Pandora about it sometimes. Maybe you can—"

"I can’t," Regulus interrupted quickly. He didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t hear it. "I can’t, and you know that. But you can. Just know that you’re my friend. And I—I would do anything for you. Anything. Especially if it means you’ll be safe. So just think it over, yeah? Make sure before you do anything."

If Evan decided to join, he’d protect him. 

But if he ran—if Evan finished his schooling and fled—Regulus would protect him, too. 

Evan just nodded in understanding, the conversation heavy in the air around them. If Regulus were to be honest, he wasn’t sure which he was hoping Evan would choose. He could try to be a good person for his friend, but maybe deep down, selfishness wasn’t something you could change. 

It scared him to imagine ever walking this path alone. 

. . .

Lucius looked the same as always, impeccably dressed with his long, platinum-blonde hair gathered in a sleek ponytail at the back of his skull. He was handsome, Regulus supposed. If you were into tall, fair guys. 

“Regulus, it is great to see you.”

“Lucius, as always—the pleasure is mine,” he said in an even tone, making sure to shake his hand firmly. 

As far as his cousin’s husbands went, he actually didn’t mind Lucius. He was seven years his senior, so they had missed each other at Hogwarts. Regulus had been just about to enter his first year when Lucius had joined the family. 

“How are your studies progressing?”

“Quite well. I am in my O.W.L. year. And how is Narcissa?”

Narcissa was still a student when she got married. Like Sirius, she had a late birthday, so they were wedded over the summer before her final year. He couldn’t say he was particularly close to either of them, but unlike Bellatrix and Rudolphus, there seemed to be more to their marriage than just tradition. Beyond that, they weren’t needlessly cruel or outspoken. They were both intelligent people and prided themselves on their poise. 

“She is doing well—completely has uprooted the manor again, however. But perhaps a woman’s touch was needed. I daresay it has never looked so good.”

In this war, as Regulus was beginning to organise people, the Malfoys were chess players. Their fortune neared that of the Blacks, and similarly, Abraxas, as Head of the Malfoy House, was one of the first to fund the Dark Lord’s efforts and worked tirelessly to help him gain a political following. Lucius had climbed the ranks as a soldier and, following the death of his father, began to try to secure his role in a more passive and comfortable position. 

“I look forward to seeing it over Yule.”

He couldn’t be sure, but Regulus thought Lucius only marred his own skin to secure his standing within the ranks. Especially when Abraxas was alive, there was a lot of question as to their dedication when none of the Malfoys over two generations had the Dark Mark. As Bellatrix loved to point out, not only did she and Rudolphus have the Mark, but all the Lestranges did. 

“Indeed. Order a drink, I already opened a tab with the barman,” Lucius said graciously, gesturing to the bar while continuing further into the room. "I'll find us a seat." 

Regulus ordered himself a Butter Beer, nodding his thanks to the greyed wizard when he passed it to him. Unable to avoid the inevitable, he joined Lucius at the table he’d settled into at the furthest corner of the bar. It was not coincidental, he knew, as he slipped into the rickety wooden chair and fell into the shadows. 

Wandlessly, Lucius put a Muffliato Charm over their table. 

“Now we may speak freely,” he said, giving him a charismatic smile. “I take it Lord Black had contacted you?”

“Yes, I received word last month,” Regulus said. He spoke without having to think; his mind took a backseat in his head as his instincts took over. He was trained for this. “His instructions were quite vague. However, in times like these, I do understand a certain level of discretion is required.”

“Of course,” Lucius agreed, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward intently. “But he was able to convey my request, I hope?”

“I believe so. I have contacted several of my classmates who I deemed may be suitable for what you are looking for. I did not specify the cause, but I am sure you can imagine many of them were quite eager when they learnt to whom they would be meeting with.”

Lucius smiled again, this time it was more genuine, however. The man was narcissistic enough to be a Black, Regulus thought.

“Indeed. And you have arranged for them to gather here?”

“Yes, but I encouraged them to be inconspicuous. As we were speaking, I noticed a few arrive—those students at the bar are some of the seventh years I had spoken to. They are involved in a… group of sorts. A group aspiring to bring honour to their names upon graduation. I did suggest they bring along any friends who were of a similar mindset to themselves.”

“Wonderful, Regulus,” Lucius praised. It made him feel a bit nauseous. “May I ask how many I am to expect?”

“I spoke to ten personally,” Regulus said confidently. “However, as I said, they know their classmates better than I in the upper years. Perhaps there will be more. I only invited sixth and seventh-year students—younger seemed imprudent as things are.”

“Fabulous, just fabulous,” Lucius breathed, eyes scanning the bar. “This was very good work—I will make certain that the Dark Lord knows of it. He asks of you, Regulus. He looks forward to meeting the young man he has heard so much about.”

Regulus tilted his chin in gratitude, holding it downwards for a moment in respect. A tinge of emotion threatened to trickle through the damn he had erected in his mind, but he pushed it away.

“As do I, of course.” He took a long sip of his Butter Beer to avoid having to speak further. 

“Do you think of your plans following graduation?” 

“They have had to be changed as of late, I am sure you are aware. As my family's Heir, I will prepare to take my father’s seat.”

Lucius leaned forward further. “And of your service?”

He stopped thinking entirely—there was only one acceptable answer. “I plan to pledge myself to the Dark Lord. This is not a war which will be won overnight. There will be work yet to be done when I graduate, and I am prepared and honoured to fill my role. Rudolphus, I am sure, has shared upon my progress?”

“Yes, he speaks highly of you. It is why I inquired—your education is nontransferable, however, it does not need to be a barrier. I will be sure to inform the Dark Lord of our conversation today. He will be very pleased to hear of your plans.” Lucius looked at him proudly. “Thank you for your help today. Truly, it is incomparable.”

With one final sip, Regulus finished his drink. “Of course. As always, it was a pleasure.”

Regulus' mind raced as he said his goodbyes. The barrier he had erected to block his emotions began to crumble, brick by brick, betraying him. He forced his feet to slow, trying to appear casual as he navigated through the bar toward the exit, Lucius' words echoing through his mind.

The cold air outside offered a welcomed distraction as he finally left the bar, but it wasn't enough. His heart clenched, palpating out of control like it may burst, his vision beginning to blur. He had to get somewhere private; he knew what was coming. He held back the torrent of anxiety clawing its way from deep within him, scratching and tearing at everything as it tried to escape. His stomach, his heart, his lungs and throat—they all seized in anguish, betraying him. 

Regulus quickened his pace, now free from the gaze of Lucius and the other Slytherins. The snow had been falling overnight and showed no signs of stopping, covering the ground in a thin layer of white. He hurried to the edge of town and, with a quick glance in both directions, ran down to the water's edge.

He stumbled along the slippery path until he was protected under the bridge, his breath ragged and wheezy. His chest screamed in pain. Regulus dropped to a crouch and curled in on himself, desperately trying to take a full breath in.

Fuck fuck fuck—

The Dark Lord was interested in him. And Lucius was doing everything in his power to exalt him greater privilege. 

Everything shattered. 

It's not fair.

Regulus half-sobbed, dropping to his knees and yanking his wand from its holster to cast desperate quietening charms. Then, he screamed.

His muted cries echoed off the stony ceiling above, fingers threading through his hair, pulling mercilessly. But it wasn’t enough. There was too much inside him. It felt as if he were drowning, his emotions like a tidal wave washing over him again and again, tossing him helplessly in its throes. It was too much. He couldn't do it any longer.

He did the only thing he knew to do.

The emotions behind his magic were volatile—his flesh immediately discoloured, burning in response. 

Time blurred together, distorting and splitting like the surface of his skin. He cast even as his vision spotted, even as his voice cracked and failed him. He cast until he wasn’t capable of producing anything but sputtered-out sobs and cries, his body deflating and mind going quiet. With shaky hands, he lowered himself the rest of the way onto the ground, curling in on himself as the dampness of the ground soaked through the seat of his trousers.

The pain inside him was muted by the pain outside, and he found himself able to take a shaky breath in.

He had caught the attention of the most powerful man in Britain, he thought incredulously. Right as he began to have doubts.

Regulus laughed then—startling himself when it clawed its way out of his throat. It sounded ill and manic, but they did always say the Blacks were crazy. He laughed until his cheeks hurt, until the tears streaming down his face dried, until his mind was finally free of the fear that had gripped him.

There wasn’t anything he could do.

“Rudolphus spoke highly of me to Lucius,” he chuckled to himself. If anyone could see him, they'd think him truly insane. As minutes passed, his thoughts cleared, and his emotions became distant. His mind was emptied enough that he could get through the rest of the day—could put on his mask and pretend this hadn't happened at all.

He was supposed to meet Evan at Madam Puddifoot’s. But if Regulus showed up looking as he did, he knew she’d sooner call St. Mungo’s Mind Maladies team than serve him.

Taking another deep breath, he began to repair his appearance.

Life went on.

. . .

“Reg!”

Evan was sitting alone at a table, a sight for sore eyes compared to all the couples which had taken shelter in the pink shoppe. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, however. 

“Regulus, a hot chocolate-raspberry cocoa for you—ready to go,” Madam Puddifoot said as he passed by, passing him the large steaming mug. She’d started preparing a drink the moment she assessed him from her doorway. “I know it’s not your usual, but I just had a feeling you needed something a little extra special today.”

Sipping the hot drink as he sat across from Evan, he almost choked. Extra special indeed. He was pretty sure she must’ve dumped half a bottle of raspberry liqueur in the drink, but he found himself taking a second, even larger sip.

She was right, as always. This was exactly what he needed. Maybe she was a Seer, on top of being a Slytherin. 

“How did it go?” Evan asked casually, fiddling with the brown bag of loose-leaf tea he must’ve already purchased. 

Regulus nodded. “Completely fine,” he confirmed. “And gift shopping?”

Evan had the decency to look a bit guilty. “Well, I looked around a bit but didn’t find much. What I really want to get her is a pet. Just in case she’s ever lonely, or whatever. But you know how expensive they are… I’m just not sure.”

Perhaps due to having a family of five children, or just from having a father who was second-born and never committed to a solid career, Evan never had much money. Regulus didn’t care, of course. And ever since they’d become friends, he made sure to pay for everything he could, since his vault was practically limitless and friends were the sort of thing he’d like to spend it on. 

Regulus chugged the rest of his cocoa in one quick go. If he was lucky, maybe he’d get a bit drunk off of it. It certainly tasted like he could.

“Well, let’s have a look at Brood and Peck. Maybe there’ll be a sale or something.” It was a blatant excuse; they both knew he’d buy Evan whatever he wanted. They all just pretended he didn’t do it since no one wanted to acknowledge they were poor, and Regulus hated any attention on himself at all. Only Barty broke the golden rule and liked to call him out on it sometimes to get under his skin. 

On the way out the door, Madam Puddifoot shoved another small glass in front of him. “Another sampler to try, dear. Thought you might like it.”

He took it like a shot, pleased when it burned his throat. She truly was his favourite lady. “Thanks, Madam, I hope you have a good Yule.”

At the Brood and Peck, he and Evan perused the store leisurely. He followed Evan around as he examined all the owls and then moved towards the more exotic animals. In the furthest corner was a large pen with a Kneazle in it, as well as one small kitten. 

The Kneazle was cleaning itself happily and paid them no attention, but its offspring waddled closer to them on its short, stubby legs. It was tiny and rather plain looking, with a round face and fuzzy little body. Its ears weren’t even very large or pointed yet.  

“It doesn’t look much like a Kneazle yet,” Regulus said, frowning at the little fluffball. 

He jolted when someone pushed past him and Evan toward the cage. A gruff man, tall and wide, reached down into the cage and picked up the kitten with one hand. He recognised him as the worker that had greeted them when they had entered.

“It’s half-cat, that’s why!” He passed the mewling little creature to Evan, who immediately grabbed it with both of his hands and supported it against his chest. The kitten settled almost immediately, purring loudly while Evan stroked its forehead with a single finger. 

“Callie, my Kneazle over there, showed back up on my doorstep knocked up after being away for a couple of months. She’s indoor-outdoor, of course, be inhumane to keep her locked away inside all the time, and I figured she met some male Kneazle while out and about. Imagine my surprise when she gives birth to this little darling!”

Regulus leaned forward to inspect her closer, smiling softly when Evan adjusted his body to bring the kitten closer to him. He carefully scratched behind her ears, his heart melting as her purring grew louder. She was so soft it was absurd. He began to smile properly when she looked over at him, her golden eyes wide and curious. James would love this, he thought sentimentally. 

“Must’ve met someone’s pet at Hogwarts—they gotta enforce animals being fixed there. I’ve been petitioning for it for years. Those animals roam around unchecked, and we run into all sorts of problems like this one here.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Evan asked, passing her gently to Regulus. 

He flipped her so she was belly-up in his arm like a baby, using his other hand to pet her rounded stomach. She allowed it without complaint, her body completely limp and her eyes closing. She was white, with faded black strips throughout her body, and her ears and tail tipped black. 

“Well, she’s two months old now. A Kneazle cub would be taking off on their own; it’d be able to hunt and care for itself out in the wildness. Callie’s fed up that the kitten is still around, but I couldn’t release the poor thing—it’d never survive out there. Cats and Kneazles are very different creatures, you see.”

Evan reached out again, and Regulus pulled his hand back so he could pet her belly.

“Would she be a good pet?” Evan inquired.

“Course she would—got the best parts of both her parents. She’ll be cat-sized, I figure, maybe even smaller. Might be a bit stronger than your average cat, but she certainly has the temperament of one. She’ll get the lifespan of a Kneazle, though. I haven’t met many half-breeds before, but they always seem to be perfectly happy and healthy and loyal as can all be to their family.”

Regulus and Evan made eye contact with each other.  

“We’ll take her.”

. . . 

“Violet’s gonna love her so much,” Evan was rambling on excited, his sister’s gift tucked into the inside of his jacket to keep her warm. Regulus was carrying a bag with food and toys for her. 

“She is,” he agreed enthusiastically. While paying for everything, Regulus realised he might’ve been a bit drunk, but in the best way. Armed with a kitten and his best friend, he was having the greatest walk home from Hogsmeade ever. And they hadn’t even gotten out of the town yet. Everything was bright from the snow, and felt cheerful and happy. The morning’s events were tucked completely out of his mind.

“Are you going to name her? Or are you going to oomph!"

Regulus grunted when he slammed into someone rounding a corner. Taking a step back, ready to apologise, he realised very quickly it wasn’t just any person. 

It was James. Because, of course, it was. 

“Oh! Sorry!” he said, his voice sounding high-pitched and wrong.  

James was wearing a winter toque and a brown canvas jacket with white lining in the hood. His jeans hugged his thighs as he shifted on his feet slightly. He smiled when their eyes met, his brown eyes lighting up behind his glasses.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sorry, too!” He sounded just as uncharacteristically happy to see Regulus, which really didn’t bode well for them. So much for acting 'normal.' 

Regulus glanced over at his companions, sure-footed now. Lily was by James’ side, nose pink from the cold and red hair complimented by the white knitted winter hat and scarf she wore. She had on a thick black peacoat that went down to her knees, and Regulus noted jealously how warm she must be. Definitely not jealous at how she was standing next to James. Definitely not that.

“Hello, Regulus,” she said sweetly, and he couldn’t help but give her a smile in return.

“Hi, Lily.”

“Since when do you say hi to Lily?” Sirius demanded, standing just behind her. Beside him was Remus. 

“Since I met her, I guess,” he answered dumbly. She giggled softly, and he felt a stupid grin form on his own face in response.

“Just wait until you see this," Remus teased Sirius, meeting Regulus’ eyes over James' shoulder. “Regulus,” he said calmly. 

“Remus,” Regulus replied, glancing over when he heard a strange noise. His eyes flicked to Evan, who was looking at him like he had two heads. Just then, the kitten let out a loud meow and poked its head out of Evan’s jacket, trying to claw its way out.

“Oh, hey, hey, hey,” Evan started soothingly, using the arm that wasn’t holding her through the jacket to gently pet her head. “Shhh, it’s alright.”

“Is that a kitten?” James asked, excitement evident in his voice.

Regulus wanted so badly to show James the kitten. He would love her so much. James was such a sap he’d lose his mind—he might even cry. Regulus imagined his expression if he got to hold her and had to berate himself sternly not to give into his urges. That definitely would be suspicious, even if it would make James‘ day.

“Er—yeah," Evan muttered, his voice a bit strangled. 

“She’s adorable,” Lily complimented kindly, tilting her head to get a better look. As she stepped a bit closer, Evan stiffened slightly and looked up at Regulus, eyes wide in panic. Holy shit, he thought, staring at him as Evan fucking blushed under her gaze. 

“What are you guys doing with a kitten?” Sirius asked, redirecting his attention. Regulus felt a flare of anger pass through him at his accusing tone. He turned to him, indignation filling him at the look Sirius gave him. 

“We're obviously going to harvest her organs,” he said snidely, glaring at him. Sirius made him so angry sometimes, just looking at him made him feel pissed off. Sirius glared at him right back.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, that’s why I was asking."

Regulus’ shoulder hiked at the insult. “I’m not killing a fuckin' kitten, Sirius."

“Fine, but what about cursing or maiming it? Because I know you lot need things to practice on, and I’m not going to let you harm—"

“I’m not going to harm a kitten!” He hated how childish he sounded. How childish he always ended up acting around Sirius. 

“Are you sure? Because I heard Lucy-Loo was around today, and—" 

“You don’t know what you're talking about."

“Don’t I? Because I’m pretty sure—"

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up?"

“No. And you know why? Because I know exactly how your kind think, and animal cruelty isn’t—"

“But don’t you know, Sirius? I’m a good Pureblood heir! I practice my curses on House-elves, not kittens.”

At some point, they had managed to get past the wall Lily and James inadvertently had formed between them and were standing chest to chest. Sirius was bigger than him—he’d always been bigger than him, but it was more than obvious when they were this close together, his eyes only coming up to his chin. And, yeah, he was wider and more muscular, but Regulus had been training in the Dark Arts the entire time Sirius had been fucking off with his Gryffindor friends. He could take him in a duel—magic had nothing to do with stature, after all.

He saw it the moment before it happened. Sirius’ eyes darkened and went completely hollow. He was about to snap. 

And then someone was shoving them apart. 

“For Godric’s sake, can you guys knock it off!”

It was James in between them, putting his body in the way and using a hand on each of their chests to force their separation. 

Stumbling a few steps back, Regulus glanced around the street corner they were on. Remus was posed right beside James, ready to step in as needed. Lily was on the other side of the fray, standing next to Evan, who was still holding the kitten precariously. He had taken it out of his jacket now and was cradling it near the nook of his neck, looking conflicted. 

If it came between helping him in a fight with Sirius and protecting the kitten, Regulus hoped he would’ve protected the kitten. 

“James, it’s fine,” Lily said sternly. 

James' jaw dropped, and he gestured at them wildly. “They were going to kill each other!”

Lily shrugged. “Sometimes siblings do that. Once Petunia thew scissors at me—it’s normal. You just don’t understand,” Lily decided, looking pointedly at James. He huffed, defeated.

“Fine. But I’m still not standing here to watch them fight, even if they are brothers.”

“We’re not,” Regulus said automatically, scowling at Sirius. Once again, it was mirrored back to him. 

“Why do you have a kitten then?” Sirius practically growled. 

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation," she defended them.

Evan glanced away from her gaze, busying himself with repositioning the kitten. Hypocrite, Regulus thought incredulously. Evan usually bad-mouthed her, which, in hindsight, was a pretty great cover to hide his crush. Regulus would’ve never known had they not literally run into her. 

If he took her last name, he'd be Evan Evans, he suddenly considered. Regulus accidentally laughed out loud, clamping his mouth shut when Remus gave him a questioning look, his nostrils flaring and brows pulled together. Regulus averted his gaze, pointedly ignoring him. 

“It’s a present—it’s for Violet, so don’t mention anything,” Evan answered finally. 

“You’re buying Violet a kitten?” Sirius confirmed at the same time Lily and James ‘aw’d’. 

“Regulus bought it,” Evan said quickly, obviously uncomfortable with the attention.

Regulus glared at him. Traitor.

“It’s Evan’s gift,” he denied. “We even got toys and whatnot for her, so, no. Not murdering." Regulus made eye contact with Sirius, holding up and shaking the bag in his hand. From inside, a bell jingled merrily. 

Everyone looked at him a bit odd. 

“Are you…drunk?” Remus asked slowly, and Regulus narrowed his eyes at him. Traitors everywhere. He shrugged, lowering the bag from the air abashedly. Evan snorted beside him, trying to hold in a laugh. 

“Okay, so Regulus is drunk, and Evan has a kitten. Not exactly Azkaban-worthy behaviour. Let it go, Padfoot,” Remus said, always the voice of reason. Sirius didn’t say anything, but he dropped his gaze and kicked the snow around a bit with the toe of his shoe. That was as close to an apology as Regulus would get.

Dick. 

“Right. Well, we’ll let you get back to the castle. See you for decorating tomorrow?” Lily confirmed. On the first Sunday of December, all the Prefects were scheduled to decorate Hogwarts for Christmas and Yule. He and Celeste, and Lily and Remus, were all assigned the Great Hall again. 

“Yeah, see you then,” he said to Remus and Lily as they left, trailed by Sirius. James was the last to start walking. He gave Regulus a small grin as they passed each other.

“See ya around, Bambi,” he whispered, low enough Evan wouldn’t hear. 

Regulus felt his cheeks blush even as he glared at him.

“Hopefully not,” he rebutted. 

Chapter Text

It was the night before they were scheduled to go home for the holidays.

Regulus was curled into James’ side on their couch, his head resting on James’ shoulder and his knees pressed into his thigh. On the coffee table in front of them was a few tins of treats; James had brought peppermint chocolates and sweet popcorn for them to share, and Regulus had brought two mugs with a satchel of chocolate-raspberry tea. It was perhaps the best cup he’d ever had, James thought. 

The Room was decorated tastefully with garland and tinsel and even had a mistletoe near the door, which they’d gotten caught under for more than a few minutes when entering. The fire seemed larger than normal, and the VHS collection was altered slightly to reflect seasonal choices. They’d already watched an entertaining fable called 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas,' as well as a black and white film, 'A Christmas Carol.' James had wanted to watch 'Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer' next (naturally), but Regulus had read the title and shook his head 'no', a line appearing between his brows. 

James quickly selected another movie and kissed the worry line away. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to the films anyway, distracted by Regulus’ presence. 

“You could still come back to mine over the hols, and then we can do this all break,” James said softly, pushing his nose into Regulus’ hair and kissing the spot right behind his ear. Regulus tensed. 

“I can’t—my parents expect me home. I told you. Besides, what would Sirius say?”

He’d been asking Regulus to come spend the holidays with him and his parents since the start of December when he’d run into Regulus in Hogsmeade. Usually, he would’ve been jealous not to have been frolicking through the town with him so carefree, but Sirius had spoken darkly that he was certain it had to do with Lucius. 

Maybe James didn’t completely understand their relationship, but Sirius seemed to be able to read Regulus like an open book. Despite his prediction, Sirius continued on as if it had never happened, while James was filled with worry and the instinct to help and do something.  

“I would tell him. I want to anyway,” James said easily. 

His friends were more than suspicious. He couldn’t hide his prolonged absences from them, and although he had refused to admit to anything, they had determined that he was seeing someone. He needed to tell Sirius personally, though, or else things would be much harder than they likely already would be.  

“He won’t be okay with it,” Regulus said, body stiff. James adjusted himself to be able to wrap around him just a bit more. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’d learn to live with it—he’s gonna have to anyway, won't he? Given I have no intention of stopping seeing you.”

Regulus remained silent for a second, but James could see the side of his mouth pull up into a small smile. Regulus expected to be cast aside at every instance, but James would never do that to him. 

He actually thought he might love the other boy in a very big way.

He loved how Regulus' voice sounded, especially in moments that were reserved just for James, like when he would chat animatedly about something that excited him, or low and throaty when he was undeniably turned on. James loved his facial expressions, how soft and sweet Reg looked when he was reading, or how, when thinking about his next move in a game or solving a problem, his tongue poked out between his teeth. James loved how he cared about people in a quiet sort of way—Regulus wasn’t loud or abrasive about anything, but he always cleaned James' glasses to perfection when he noticed they were smudged, and he always made time for his friends, and he never spoke badly about anyone, ever. Even behind their backs. 

Perhaps it was a bit stupid to have started loving someone he’d only really known for four months, but James never did things in half-measures, especially not when it concerned his emotions. And Regulus was someone who didn’t receive even half the love he deserved; it was obvious in the way he never expected anything but to be disappointed.

James wanted to show Regulus just how easy it was to love him. 

“I’m going to talk to him over the break,” he declared. “And then, when we come back, I would like to date you properly.”

Regulus sighed. “You know I can’t.” He looked resigned, as if it’d been something he’d been dealing with for years and was always left with the same results. As the holidays approached, Regulus grew more quiet, more weary. James didn’t want him to go back home. He kept thinking about Sirius’ state after the last time he had gone home, and even though Regulus assured him it wasn’t the same, he couldn’t help but worry. 

“Not publicly, just… I don’t want to hide you from my friends anymore. And I want to be official, even if it’s secret. I just have to speak with Sirius first, out of respect.”

Regulus shrugged. He obviously wasn’t convinced. James would show him, though—he’d prove to him that everything would be alright. A few beats passed before Regulus looked up at him again, his eyes mischievous and all traces of wariness gone.

“When you come back, Violet’s going to have the kitten,” he pointed out, biting his lip to try to suppress his smile. “You’re finally going to be able to play with her properly.”

Ever since they’d run into each other at Hogsmeade, Regulus hadn’t stopped talking about the little kitten that was living in his dorm room. He practically moaned about how hard it was to stop himself from showing her to James that day, and how much James was going to love and adore her. 

James was pretty sure Regulus was the one who loved and adored her, but he was excited to get the chance to finally meet her, too. She did look ridiculously soft, cuddled up in Evan’s jacket that day. A part of him was a bit sad for Reg. The little cat sounded like it had been a highlight for him over the past few weeks, and it must be sad to see her go. Regulus seemed only to be excited for Violet and Evan, though.

“Evan’s going to give it to her on Christmas?” James asked.

Regulus nodded. “Probably a bit earlier, honestly, knowing him. They are staying at Hogwarts over the hols, and Lily said Violet’s the only Gryffindor that’ll be here, so it’ll be perfect—they'll finally be able to hang out again. He’s missed her so much; I know it's been driving him mental not to be able to talk with her.”

James frowned; he knew that they had created distance in light of everything that happened with Micheal and her other housemates, but it was upsetting to him that it was his Gryffindors who had caused the divide. “Why aren’t they going home?” he asked.

Regulus shrugged. “Don’t think there’d be anyone else around. Evan kinda raised her, I think. Before she came to Hogwarts, he wrote her a letter every single day. He never missed one, I swear to Merlin.”

James grinned. He was growing more fond of Evan just through the way Regulus spoke of him. Regulus used to avoid talking about his mates, but recently, he’d been more open. James had earned a certain level of trust, he suspected.

“That poor owl,” he joked lightheartedly. 

Regulus laughed. “It was the fittest owl at Hogwarts, that’s for sure. His biceps were as big as your own by the end of it.”

He poked his arm then, eyes twinkling. James flexed reflexively, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his chest swelled with pride. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” he sighed sadly, resting his forehead against Regulus'. It was two weeks, but it felt like it was going to be an eternity, and they hadn’t even gone their separate ways yet. 

Regulus shrugged, his eyes dimming notably. “It’ll go by quickly,” he said, but his voice wasn’t convincing. James knew he was trying to believe it himself. 

“I got you something,” James redirected the conversation, wanting to put the smile back on Regulus’ face. He reached down under the couch to retrieve the gift he had stashed away earlier. 

Regulus looked horrified. “I didn’t get you anything,” he said in a panic. “I didn’t know—I didn’t realise we were doing that."

James kissed him quickly. “It’s fine! It’s just small, not really a gift at all. I know we didn’t talk about it, I just saw it and thought of you.”

Regulus still looked unconvinced, but he accepted the small wrapped box. He meticulously untied the bow and pulled apart the wrapping, not making a single tear. Then he folded the paper neatly, like it was to be reused. 

Finally, he opened the present. James watched in bated anticipation until a smile broke out on Regulus' face. He pulled the small figurine out from the box: a gold stag. It was small, no larger than a thumb thimble, but it was detailed and made of a heavy metal, giving it a solid weight. It reminded James of the game pieces from Monopoly.

It was just a decorative piece; the artist had animals and creatures of every type and size available. James figured it was small enough that Reg could place it on a shelf or somewhere without much notice.

“The forest prince!” Regulus stated, smile growing larger as he examined it closely. “It’s perfect,” he declared. 

James tried to shrug casually, but he glowed in triumph. “I’m glad you like it.”

Regulus kissed him quickly, just a peck, before smiling down at his gift again and placing it in his pocket.

“I love it,” he corrected, then leaned forward to kiss him again more heatedly. Very quickly, they tangled into each other, the movie forgotten in the background. It was getting to a point where James knew they'd have to stop soon before they got carried away when Regulus pulled back suddenly, his pupils blown and hair mused. His hands were paused on James' zipper. “Can I?”

Stop, or try going a bit further?  

It was an easy decision: James nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again. He wanted to make the most of their evening together—every second counted when they would have to say goodbye soon. 

. . .

"James! Sirius!"

Excitement filling him, James jogged the last few steps to his parents. He pulled his mum into a big hug before repeating the same to his dad, Sirius following suit. “I missed you guys!” he exclaimed, gratitude filling him.

He received warm smiles in response. “Not as much as we missed you—you wouldn’t believe how quiet the house is without you two there!” James and Sirius shot each other guilty grins as they followed his parents to the Apparition point. They each grabbed onto one of their arms to get home.

“Did you sign up for Apparition lessons in the New Year?” Monty asked Sirius, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup! They start right when I get back.”

Monty smiled at him proudly. “This might be the last time you have to Side-Along with me then! Let’s make the most of it.”

Arriving at the driveway of the Potter Cottage, the wards tingled as James passed through them, his family’s magic feeling warm and familiar on his skin. He was home. 

It was a simple two-storey building, nestled among fields and forests in rural West England. A Quidditch Pitch lay at the back, along with a lake used for swimming in the summers. In winter, the white stretches of land and evergreen trees nearly looked surreal, reminiscent of a painting, with the stone cottage sitting comfortably among them, smoke endlessly pouring from the chimney.

Inside, it was always warm and cosy. Signs of a happy family living there were everywhere—family photos littered the walls, and half-done art projects rested among the furniture in the living room. It was never a quiet house; comfortable noises of life could be heard within it at every hour. It was the house James was raised in; other than Hogwarts, he'd never lived anywhere else, and he'd never felt the desire to.

Knocking the snow off his boots as he entered the front door, James looked around the place he had grown up in and smiled. It was just as they had left it.

A tug on his coat caught his attention. Glancing down, he saw Penny waiting patiently for him.

“Welcome home, Master James Potter. May Penny take your coat?”

She was as small and particular as ever. She wore the normal House-elf fitting of a white robe loosely tied around her body like a dress of sorts. Her large brown eyes looked at him expectantly, and he found himself thinking of Regulus and his fondness for the House-elves. 

“Yes, Penny, thank you. And it’s good to see you.”

She paused as she grabbed his coat, her head tilting and eyes widening measuredly. Then, a smile spread across her face.

“As is you!” she said excitedly. “Penny will take your trunk to your room now,” she said quickly, grabbing his things and disappearing with a 'crack.' 

He watched the spot she had disappeared from for a moment before making his way towards the living room. Very odd creatures indeed, House-elves were. 

. . .

The days passed by in a blur of laughter, family games, and flying with Sirius. Sirius had almost always been able to spend Christmas with them since the Yule feasts and balls he often had to attend before he ran away tended to be scheduled around the solstice and not Christmas. This was the first year they’d be spending all their time together, not unlike the past summer, and James was having a blast. 

He’d always wanted a sibling. His parents were quite old when they had him—he was their miracle, as his mum has said, much to his embarrassment. He suspected they always wanted a large family and, with more than enough love to give, had been thrilled when Sirius officially moved in. As far as they were concerned, he’d been one of their sons since the moment James had brought him home as first years. All of his friends have been. 

They’d spent the solstice sitting around a fire, the Yule log he and Sirius had collected with Monty burning warm and bright as they sipped hot chocolate and reminisced about stories from the past year. Not for the first time since he’d gotten home, he wished Regulus was there. 

James knew he was shy, but he could practically imagine Reg sitting on the couch next to him, curled up in a big sweater and under a warm blanket, listening intently as the others talked. His parents would love him, he knew. And he would love his parents, too. His mum and dad were warm and open people. They wouldn’t mind if Regulus didn’t say a whole lot and just preferred to sit in their company. They didn’t expect anything from people except to be themselves, and it’d be good for Regulus to get some reassurance that he was completely lovable as he was. 

That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, James found himself creeping down to the kitchen for a snack. He was buttering the toast he’d just made when his mum walked into the room.

“Could you make any more noise?” she said. “And you were singing! It’s three am, James. What on earth are you doing?”

James laughed guiltily. “I was not singing!” he denied, turning to face her.

He wore plaid pyjama pants and a red hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head. The floor felt cold, the hard stone emitting coolness even through his socks.

“You were! Otherwise, someone let loose a herd of cats down here,” she teased.

He barked out a laugh in shock. “Mum!” he admonished. “I do not sound like a bunch of cats!”

“So you were singing then?” she pressed, smiling knowingly. 

James hadn’t realised he was, to be honest, but he might’ve been. Sometimes, he did that when he was in a good mood. “Maybe,” he admitted, biting his lip. 

She looked at his sad plate of toast and rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and I’ll make us some tea?” 

And that was how he found himself sitting across from his mum at three thirty am with a cold piece of toast and a warm mug of tea. 

“So, what’s keeping you awake?” she asked once she was settled in the chair across from him. She had on her fuzzy red night robe and thick-rimmed glasses she usually just wore for reading. Her greying hair was cut short and was sticking up spectacularly from her head. 

She was beautiful, he knew.

“I guess there is something I want to talk to you about,” he said after a moment, realising that with all his time spent with Sirius, he hadn’t had a chance to have one-on-one chats with either of his parents. It didn’t upset him at all; he wanted Sirius to bathe in every moment with him, to know that he was truly his brother and a part of his family, but there were things he’d been trying to tell his parents for the better part of the year, things that remained unsaid. Things that, for now, felt easier to discuss with his parents than with Sirius.

“Dad too, I guess,” he amended after a moment, feeling a bit guilty he wasn’t present to be told at the same time. His mum stood up almost immediately.

“Well, I’ll just go get him," she said, already power-walking away from the table.

“Mum, no! It’s nearly four am,” he said incredulously, but she waved him off, reappearing not even three minutes later with his dad in tow. 

Monty looked every bit like he had just been woken up. He wore a plaid robe, which had huge holes in its shoulder and along its hem that he refused to fix lest it make it ‘less comfy’. His hair, which James had inherited from him, was sticking out so wildly it looked as if it were truly defying gravity, and he’d forgotten his glasses on his bedside table, squinting at James instead with a worried expression on his face.

“Jamie, is everything alright?” he asked kindly, not a hint of anger in his voice for being woken up so early. 

James felt his eyes welling up a bit, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion at how wonderful of people his parents truly were. Overwhelmed with how much he was loved. 

“I’m fine, Dad,” he said, his voice cracking and wet sounding. “I just wanted to say something,” he said, and for some reason, he started crying even more. 

“It’s okay, son,” his dad promised, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to become more alert as his mum reached across the table to rub James' arm affectionately. “You know we love you no matter what.”

James nodded, the tears not ceasing. “I do know, I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” he said, laughing wetly. He knew it would be okay. They weren't going to care, but for some reason, his chest still felt tight, like he was embarking on a very big journey. He could sense them getting worried, though, so he took a deep breath and tried to clear his throat.

"I like boys," he admitted quietly. “I like girls, but I like boys too. And I’m sort of seeing one now.”

He glanced up. His mum was smiling at him happily and gave his arm another firm rub in support. His dad was dabbing at his own eyes. “Of course, that’s okay, kiddo. We love you so much,” he said, his voice cracking.

James started crying a bit harder in relief, especially when his dad stood up to pull him into a hug. When they pulled apart, they looked at each other’s wet faces for a moment, and both chuckled softly. James glanced at his mum, who stood to give him a quick hug of her own.

“You Potter men, I swear to Godric,” she tutted. “Enough tears to water a garden.”

They both laughed guiltily. James knew exactly who he got his emotional side from, and it wasn’t his mother.

“Oh, Jamie, I’m so glad you told us,” she said as they all returned to their seats at the table. “Now, who is the lucky boy?”

He glanced at the table guiltily. “That’s the kind of complicated bit,” he admitted softly.

James bit his lip for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell them, when his mum’s eyes widened. “Oh, James,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, honey.”

He knew she knew; he never was able to keep secrets from her. His dad glanced between the two of them, oblivious as ever. “Who?” he asked, looking to his wife for help. “I think I missed something.”

“It’s Regulus dear, you know how he’s talked about him in his letters,” his mum explained plainly, not wasting words. His dad’s eyes widened in understanding, his eyebrows almost to his hairline.

“Oh boy,” he said, nodding. “I see.”

James looked down again, feeling markedly guilty.

“I didn’t mean to,” he explained once he had gathered his thoughts. “I just…I remembered what you said, and so I started to hang out with him more. I was worried about him. And I thought it’d be nice for him and Sirius to…y’know, get a second chance, maybe. But then I just ended up liking him so much, and, well, he liked me too.” He gestured helplessly. And now we are here.

“And what does Sirius think about all of this?” his mum asked gently.

James looked down, feeling even more ashamed. He knew they weren’t going to like this bit.

“I haven’t told him…” he mumbled. “I was going to—I was going to tell him when Reg agreed to come for the holidays. But he didn’t, so I said I would tell him over the break, and, well, it just hasn't been the right time yet. But I’m going to. I will.”

When he looked up, his mum was fretting, but she didn’t seem angry. “He knows he can come here at any point, though, right? Apart from everything with you, Regulus knows he can come here if he ever needs?”

James nodded. “Yeah, I practically begged him all month, but he said it’d be okay.”

His mum pursed her lips, her eyes crinkling at their corners, his dad rubbing her back affectionately. “Well, Sirius is your best friend. Your brother, I think you guys always say. And Regulus, despite everything, is his brother. I don’t think we need to tell you what the right thing to do is, James; I know you know.

“And as for the rest, there’s not much else we can do if he is happy to stay there for now.”

James frowned. “I don’t think he is happy, though,”

His mum looked even more devastated, but his dad just nodded thoughtfully. “All you can do is make sure he knows he has choices. What choices he makes are up to him.”

“Are you sure that being with him is the best idea?” his mum asked, and he felt his stomach drop.

“I—" he said dumbly, eyebrows pulling together. “I don’t know what you mean,”

“She just means you are young, James,” his dad stepped in quickly. “You’re like me, and I know how sometimes it can be easy to get swept up in things, but it’s just…”

His mum took over again. “Don’t you think it might be best not to complicate things? If he ever were in trouble, truly, do you think possibly having to face an ex might make things more difficult?”

James recoiled, his stomach like a block of ice in his stomach. “Ex? We aren’t even dating yet. And—and we aren’t going to break up. It’s not like that. I wouldn’t hurt him,“ he argued, mind whirling. What if they did break up? What if it ended, and James ruined Sirius’ chances of ever being with his brother again? What if Regulus felt like his parents wouldn’t help him anymore since he used to date their son?

They are wrong, he told himself. What he and Regulus had was special; they weren't going to just break up. Merlin, James was more sure every day that he loved him. It was going to work out.

“That won’t happen,” he argued, his thoughts more organised.

“We aren’t saying it will, honey,” his mum backpedalled carefully. “We just want you to think of the possibilities—"

“It won’t happen,” he said more sternly. He stood, upset and desperate to flee the table. They would work out—he was sure of it. He hadn't done anything wrong.

“I’m gonna go to bed now,” he said hurriedly, not listening to their interjections. James left the room with them mid-sentence, still sitting at the kitchen table. He was glad they had the good sense not to follow him to his bedroom. He needed to think.

James was in his bed again just minutes later, his stomach upset as he replayed the conversation over in his head. He rolled onto his side, pulling his blankets over his shoulder so they were bunched up at his neck like a shirt's collar. His parents had ended up getting upset with him, but not for any of the reasons he had worried about. It was because of something else entirely.

His chest feeling uncomfortable, James rolled over again to his other side, dragging the blankets with him. 

His parents didn’t know Regulus like he did, he reassured himself. 

James was doing the right thing. He had to be.

. . .

The holidays passed by in a blur. Peter and Remus came to visit every couple of days, and they’d spent hours on the frozen lake together and having snowball fights. His parents caught his eye once in a while, obvious in their intention to want to talk to him again, but he made sure to stay by Sirius’ side and limit time alone with them. It was easy enough, with Sirius and James choosing to spend days on end frolicking in the backfields and forest as their Animagus, playing in the deep snow together. 

He didn’t want to hear anything more of what they had to say. Not when every morning he laid in his bed, thinking about Regulus and what he might be doing. What he might be hearing about himself, or what might be happening to him. James knew Regulus said it wasn’t like it was with Sirius; they didn’t yell at him or tear him down at every opportunity, but he just couldn’t believe him. Walburga and Orion were not good people, and they were horrible parents. Whether Regulus believed it or not, James knew he wasn’t being treated well within that house.

He hadn’t spoken to Sirius yet, either. He almost had a million and one times, but it never seemed to be the right moment. 

It was New Year's Eve now, and he and the rest of the Marauders were sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, drinking whiskey Remus had brought. They were going to a New Year's Eve party at Marlene’s house later on. James’ and Marlene’s parents were all going to a gala fundraiser for St. Mungo’s, but while they were gone, the McKinnon’s had given their daughter permission to host a party of her own.

They were Flooing there for nine pm but had met at James’ house beforehand to have some pre-drinks together. 

As it were, they were playing speed rounds of Never-Have-I-Ever, trying to get as many sips of the bottle in before they had to leave. It was the same as the normal game, except you weren’t allowed to think about what you were saying. If you took too long of a pause, you drank. If you accidentally said something you have done and got called on it, you drank. And, of course, if you did the thing that was said, you drank.

They’d invented it early on in their fifth year. 

“Er—never have I ever failed a quiz,” Sirius said quickly. Remus and Peter drank. 

“Never have I ever stolen from my parents,” James said as fast as he could. Sirius and Remus drank. 

“Never have I ever puked on someone,” Peter practically yelled, keeping up the pace. Sirius rolled his eyes but took a swing quickly.

“Never have I ever played on the Quidditch team,” Remus said rapidly, causing James and Sirius to drink. 

“Never have I ever been rejected by Amanda Renn,” Sirius added. Peter took a swing, giving Sirius the finger at the same time. 

“Never have I ever made a girl cry,” James declared, all three boys screaming at him immediately.

“Lies!” Sirius yelled while Peter called for him to drink.

“I haven’t!” he defended himself, but they all shook their heads. 

“Beatrice Periwinkle,” Sirius said confidently.

James rolled his eyes. “That's not what I meant! That was an accident! I was trying to scare you—I didn’t see her coming around the corner!”

“Still counts!” Peter yelled, and James rolled his eyes but drank obediently. He was trying to get Sirius with that one, but it’d backfired spectacularly.

“Okay, Peter, go,” he ordered. 

“Oh uh—never have I ever gotten a hand job,” he said next. 

James moved to sip automatically, freezing when he realised his mistake. He glanced at Sirius wide-eyed, but Sirius didn’t even look his way. He was too busy staring slack-jawed at Moony, his throat bobbing as he took a swing of his drink. 

Peter yelled out in distress. “What! I’m the one with a proper girlfriend now, how is that fair?!” 

Remus shrugged, “Never have I ever—"

“No no no—hold on!” Sirius interjected. “We are not just glossing over that! Who Moony?” he all but demanded. 

Peter and James' eyes met across the circle in silent communication. Oh fuck. Remus, to his benefit, managed to look unaffected at being singled out. Perhaps he was a horrible friend, but James praised the gods that Sirius’ attention was completely off of him. He was in the clear. 

“Rhys,” Moony said finally, looking tired. “I think this is kind of old news, though, if we can carry on…?”

“Old news?” Sirius said, voice a bit more level. He glanced at James and Peter. “You guys knew?”

They both shrugged. “It wasn’t a secret, Pads,” James consoled. They weren’t keeping it from him on purpose of anything. It just was…not really worth mentioning. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius asked, staring at Remus, obviously hurt. “I tell you guys everything.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but James could tell he was getting stressed out at the way his shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about everything,” he scowled in response. 

“Well, trust me, the second me and Holly move forward in our relationship, you all will be hearing about it,” Peter tried to say humorously, and James forced a chuckle, trying to maintain the energy. Sirius didn’t even seem to hear. 

“Well, I do,” he argued, “because I am your friend. And I want to know what is going on with you, because I care.” He spat the last word out like it was a curse. “Do you remember? What it's like to actually care about your friends?”

Remus’ upper lip pulled back into a snarl that was way too similar to Moony for James' liking.

“Fine, Sirius, you really want to know?" At Sirius' nod, Remus' eyes narrowed. "It wasn't just a handy, I got head from Rhys, too. Then I gave it. And then, we fucked each other,” he snapped. “Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes." Sirius gritted his teeth—he didn't look very happy at all. “Because I am a good friend, and I care about you. And friends don’t lie to each other! They tell each other this stuff!” His jaw was obviously clenched, eyes burning intensely. 

James felt his heart plummet. Fuck. He had to tell him. He had to tell him because finding out how long James had been lying to him was going to kill Sirius. 

A moment of silence settled over the group, and then Remus sighed.

“Well, that’s good. Because he’s coming tonight.”

Sirius’ eyes widened just a fraction, but James could see the gears turning in his head. The only thing worse than finding out your crush slept with someone else, is finding out that they’ve been sleeping with someone else repeatedly. And currently. 

Peter had the same idea and intervened quickly. “Well, that’s good! Because it’ll be Rhys, Holly and Mary there! And if James’ secret girlfriend isn’t there, I’m sure he can find someone to kiss at midnight too, if he wants to. We all have someone—it’ll be a great night,” he said, obviously trying to remind Sirius of his girlfriend. 

When the hell did we get so messy?  Was James seriously so oblivious he’d somehow been missing this train wreck over the past year? 

“Right,” Sirius said finally, taking a sip from his glass. “It’s going to be a great night.”

. . .

It was a shit show. 

As soon as waving goodbye to his parents, Sirius disappeared into the party without a trace. 

James joined the group in the living room, all chatting and listening to music. Peter was linked up with Holly, and Remus found Rhys not long after arriving as well. They played some games and passed by the hours counting down to midnight together.

Lily was there; James chatted with her for a while about her holidays. She said it’d been a fine time, but she was excited to get back to Hogwarts. Her older sister wouldn’t spare her even a look, and being at home made her feel guilty and upset at everything she had to leave behind since finding out she was a witch. James listened sympathetically, not being able to imagine her situation. The closest thing he could imagine was being a squib while his parents were magical. 

He had stopped drinking as soon as they arrived, worried about Sirius and the conversation with him he knew he couldn’t put off much longer. James was glad he did, as he realised a few times that Lily was flirting with him quite obviously. At one time, he would’ve been thrilled, but he had Regulus now, and it was all he wanted. 

Guilt overwhelmed him for not realising what was going on sooner. 

“Hey, Lily,” he said abruptly when she placed her hand on his arm once more. “I think I may have given you the wrong impression. You are a really great girl, but I’d just like to be friends with you, if that’d be alright?”

Her eyes went wide, her hand retracting immediately. “Of course! I’m sorry—it’s just it’s New Year's Eve, and you hadn’t arrived with anyone, so I just thought…”

James nodded in understanding. “It's okay! It’s my fault, too, I know I came on pretty strong in the past. And I probably, well, I’m sure I should’ve realised sooner what was going on.”

Lily laughed then, and the knot in his stomach loosened just a tad. “I have been trying to pull out all the stops. I wasn’t sure if you were just oblivious, or if it was me.”

“I’m oblivious!” he practically shouted in agreement. “It definitely isn’t you—you are great. So great. I just—I actually have just started seeing somebody.”

Lily’s mouth dropped. “James! Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?! I would have never hit on you if I’d known!“ she exclaimed, horrified.  

“It’s my fault,” he apologised again, cutting her off. “It’s just, well, it’s sort of a secret right now. So I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Well, let me be the first to say congratulations then,” she said, giving him a warm smile.

Relief flooded him. Over the past few months, Lily had become one of his closest friends; he’d hate if it all fell apart because of a misunderstanding. Just then, arguing could be heard over the music. They both turned in sequence to see Mary burst out of the kitchen, tears streaking down her face. She darted through the room quickly, disappearing to go up the stairs to the second floor.

“I know you said Mary is good for Sirius,” Lily said solemnly, “But he isn’t good for her. It’s not her job to fix someone!”

“I know,” James admitted, heart sinking at how unfair his interpretation of their relationship had been. “It’s not fair to her.”

“It’s not! I know he is your best friend, but he treats her like a doormat! The amount of times he’s made her cry at this point is ridiculous. I’m going to tell her to break up with him—she deserves better.”

James nodded. It felt like betrayal, but…

He felt bad for Mary. She was a really nice person, and a lot of fun. All year long, he’d only seen her when she was with Sirius and half of those times, they’d been fighting, or Sirius was trying to cause a fight. And seeing how he reacted with Remus tonight—it wasn’t fair to her at all. 

Lily looked at him curiously. 

“What?” he asked, glancing towards the kitchen. It was almost midnight; probably time to track down Sirius and try to get a handle on things. 

She smiled. “Nothing, it's just—you seem more mature. Maybe whoever it is you are dating is a good influence on you.”

He thought about Regulus, and couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agreed.

Lily sighed, “Well, I better go check on Mary. You reckon you know what happened?”

James leaned in a bit closer. “Sirius found out about Remus and Rhys before we came here,” he confided. Lily’s eyes widened, and she twisted her head to look at Remus and Rhys in the corner. They were standing far enough away to easily just be friends, but James was sure most people at the party must know the truth.  

“You finally figured it out, huh?” she commented drily.

He pulled a guilty face and pointed to himself. “Like I said, oblivious," he half-joked. 

. . .

He found Sirius sitting outside on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Wordlessly, James sat down beside him. 

“Hey, mate,” he greeted, throwing an arm around his shoulder. Sirius remained silent but sunk into his embrace. Inside the party, the clear yelling of the countdown started. 

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

“7!”

“6!”

“5!”

“4!"

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

“Happy New Year!!”

“Happy New Year, Pads,” James murmured softly, rubbing Sirius’ arm. 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Sirius asked quietly. James could tell he was crying even though he couldn’t see his face. The other boy hiccuped loudly. 

James sighed. “I think for the same reason he doesn’t like seeing you with Mary; it’s just too hard for him.”

Sirius sniffled. “He said I messed up too bad. He said he couldn’t trust me again, but that we could be friends. And I’ve been trying so hard, James—I’m trying so hard to be his friend. I’ll take any part of him I can get—" Sirius' voice choked off as he gave a wet cough. Then another hiccup.

“I love him. But he can’t—he won’t even let me be his friend. If he was my friend, he would’ve told me—friends tell each other that sort of thing. So he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and he doesn’t want to be friends, not really…” Sirius sniffled again, and James pulled him against his chest. “He doesn’t want me at all.”

“He loves you, Sirius. I know it’s hard, but I promise he does. You just need to be patient—he’ll come around.”

They sat in quiet for a few more minutes, and then Sirius pulled back. He spent a couple of moments wiping his face and trying to straighten out his hair. “Mary dumped me,” he said once he was settled, hiccuping loudly afterwards. 

James shrugged. “Maybe that’s for the better, yeah?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. James bumped into his shoulder playfully.

“It is for the better, trust me,” he said confidently. 

Sirius shrugged, but he looked up at least to give him a sad smile. “I do trust you,” he said softly, turning to stare out at the dark yard after, his eyes distant and glossy.

James felt his stomach flip at his words. He knew he had to do it.

“Sirius…” he started slowly, looking down at his hands. “There’s something I have to tell you.” At his silence, he continued hurriedly. “The person I’m seeing—when I’ve been gone all those times. It’s not a secret girlfriend. It’s um—well, it’s a boy actually, see? And, well, it’s Regulus.”

His heart pounded out of his chest as he looked up in fear. Sirius was staring at him, his eyes confused and his mouth just slightly parted, but he didn't react. James hurried to fill the silence. 

“I’m really sorry for not telling you right away! See, I didn’t mean for this to happen. It all just started—"

Suddenly, Sirius’ eyes widened, and James snapped his mouth shut.

He's mad. 

No—wait.

He was... panicked?

And then Sirius leaned forward and puked all over his lap.

Chapter Text

“Kreacher! I missed you."

Kreacher’s ears dipped, and he did his best impression of being annoyed at Regulus’ casualness, but it was obvious he was excited, too. 

“Master Regulus is to go straight home,” Kreacher parroted no doubt his mother, holding his arm out for him to Side-Along. Regulus reached down and held his hand, its size feeling small in his own.

They Apparated directly into his bedroom. Kreacher immediately began to empty his trunk for him, picking up item by item and placing it where it belonged. Regulus pulled his legs up on the bed and folded them underneath him, watching. Kreacher could’ve emptied his clothing with a snap of his fingers using his magic, but he knew the old man had missed him as well and was making an excuse to catch up. 

“How have you been?” Regulus asked. 

“Kreacher has been okay. Kreacher’s been busy helping Mistress.”

Kreacher, aside from literally raising him from birth, was Regulus' only friend for many years. The year Sirius had gone to Hogwarts without him had marked the start of many years of solitude. Kreacher was his sole source of genuine and kind companionship in their hollow house. Even after Regulus went to Hogwarts, he remained friendless until his third year. If Regulus were being honest, he might not have made it without Kreacher.

Kreacher was bound by magic to be kind to him. Regulus tried to mitigate that detail by being kind in return. 

“And how has she been?”  

Kreacher paused, his head halfway in a cabinet he was folding Regulus' pants into. “Mistress has spent many nights crying; Mistress does not understand why that foul Sirius would leave. Kreacher says Sirius is not a good son, no, not like Regulus, but Mistress does not see reason through her bleeding heart.”

Regulus frowned. That wasn’t good. 

“And Father?”

Kreacher grumbled incoherently for a moment and then, “Lord Black is upset with Mistress and her soft ways. Lord Black thinks it is her that drove the lawless son away.”

Regulus frowned deeper. He wouldn’t call his mother soft, not in a hundred years, but it had certainly been preferable when his father had taken a back seat in parenting compared to the past summer. However, it didn’t sound as if he’d be so lucky for it to return to that. Never before had Regulus feared his parents; never before had they turned the Dark Arts against him or Sirius. What happened was irreparable—he wasn’t sure if his parents were both going mad or if they truly were just such awful children to have.

There was a time when this house had felt like a home and the people who lived here, a family. He wasn’t sure if it had just been an illusion cast in front of his naive eyes, or if everything truly had deteriorated so catastrophically to what they had become now.

“Is Master Regulus hungry? Kreacher will be making lunch soon.”

Regulus shook his head 'no'. “I’m okay, thank you. When do I have to be downstairs?”

“Dinner will be at six,” Kreacher said, disappearing without another word. 

Suddenly, a plate appeared on his dresser and, a moment later, a cup of juice. Regulus looked at the carefully cut slices of apple, cheese, and pile of crackers, and smiled. Kreacher was good at breaking the rules when he saw fit. Snacks hardly counted as lunch, Regulus was sure Kreacher had justified to himself. 

Reaching into his pocket, Regulus ran his fingers over the metallic stag James had gifted him.

It had been a really good last night with him. He was upset with himself for not getting James a gift—it had seemed so obvious afterwards. He gave him what he could, though, as thanks, and James seemed grateful. Regulus hoped it was enough to keep him interested during their time apart.

The hours passed slowly as Regulus readjusted to the solitude of his room. Looking around at the four walls, it was easy to feel as if he had never even left; nothing had changed. The newspaper clippings posted on his wall from attacks over the summer drew his attention, and he carefully pulled them down and placed them in a pile in his bedside drawer.

The house was unnaturally quiet, as if Sirius had taken all the life with him when he left. When they were growing up, their parents were kinder and more full of life. Laughter gave way to yelling, however, and then yelling gave way to silence. The house had been quiet since he'd been gone.

At five-fifty pm, Kreacher re-appeared. 

“Master Regulus must not be wearing that to supper!” he said aghast. Regulus looked down at his outfit in surprise. It was the normal robes he’d often wear at home. He didn't argue. While he changed dutifully into the clothes Kreacher provided him, the House-elf puttered around his room cleaning. Kreacher worked hard to keep him out of trouble—likely, he’d checked his parents' attire to make sure Regulus would match and avoid criticism.

There wasn’t really anything to clean, but Kreacher was good at pretending to be working. As Regulus moved to change into the new dress shirt, suddenly long, bony fingers caught his wrist. Kreacher looked at his arm angrily. 

“Master Regulus is hurting himself,” he said, disdain heavy in his voice. He examined the broken skin closely, moving Regulus' arm this way and that as he assessed it. Regulus let him—there was no point in trying to avoid it. 

“It’s fine, Kreacher,” he said softly, gently pulling back on his arm so he could continue getting dressed. 

Kreacher looked at him, large eyes furious. “It is not fine—it is not fine at all. It’s worse,” he declared dramatically. “Master Regulus must stop.”

“It helps,” he tried to explain softly. It was a conversation they’d rehashed several times over the years but never seemed to really solve. 

“There are better things to help. Potions and friends! Master Regulus does not need to do this to himself.”

Regulus looked away, feeling ashamed. “You hurt yourself,” he pointed out, hating himself for bringing it up. Most of the time, when Kreacher hurt himself, it was because of him. And Kreacher didn’t have a choice—he had to. 

“Kreacher misbehaves and needs punishment,” the House-elf said firmly. 

Regulus sighed. “Yeah, well. Me too.”

Kreacher grumbled angrily but dropped it. Regulus hated upsetting him, but Kreacher couldn’t understand. Not the way his body betrayed him, not the way his mind wouldn’t be silent sometimes, or the way his skin stretched over his bones unnaturally and made him feel wrong. 

As he approached the dining room table, his mother and father were already there. They were dressed impeccably, Walburga in a long black gown and Orion in fine dress robes. Regulus wasn’t sure what prompted this seemingly random formal wear, but he was glad Kreacher had updated him, or else he likely would’ve been torn to shreds for what he had on before. 

“Regulus, welcome home,” his mother said, voice void of emotion.

“Thank you, Mother,” he greeted cordially, bowing to his father slightly and then her. “Lord,” he greeted, voice steady. 

“Regulus,” Orion said, assessing him under a critical eye. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

As soon as he sat, the plates in front of them filled with food: pot roast with gravy, potatoes and roasted vegetables. His wine glass was filled up silently as well, and he thanked Kreacher in his head. 

“How do your studies progress?” Orion asked him from across the table. 

Regulus used to sit on the side of the table, across from his mother. After Sirius had left, Regulus had come to a table set for three people, however. It made sense, of course, but the third place setting was in Sirius’ old spot, while his own was left empty. 

He still wasn’t quite used to filling it. 

“Well,” he answered truthfully. School was always easy for him. Not as easy as it seemed to have come to Sirius, but his grades were acceptable. 

Orion nodded, “Good. Lucius spoke highly of your help with the war recruitment efforts. The Dark Lord was very pleased to hear. You may receive an audience with him soon if you continue to fulfil your duties.”

Regulus nodded. It was a thinly veiled threat—don’t disappoint him. “I will do my best,” he promised. He felt completely numb—his Occlumency shields had been carefully crafted prior to dinner, allowing him to have a clear mind. His mother was an excellent Legillimens and was not against rifling through his mind, seemingly unprovoked. 

Orion nodded. “Very well. You will continue training with Rudolphus this break; he is back from his latest mission. It is crucial you master duelling; the war’s fatalities are growing. The Ministry has allotted those Auror pigs use of the Unforgivables, hypocritical oafs. It would be an embarrassment to lose a duel with one.”

Embarrassing, not tragic, to die. 

Regulus nodded again. “Of course. Hogwarts makes it… difficult, to practice the Dark Arts. I look forward to my study of it again.” A pit settled in his stomach. He really didn’t.

Again, Orion nodded in satisfaction. 

“Have you any progress in courting?” his mother asked next, steely eyes locking onto his own. Regulus lowered the defences in his mind, allowing her access. James was tucked so deeply in his consciousness that he barely could remember his existence as it were in the moment. 

“I have not met anyone I have found worthwhile,” he said. She leaned back after a moment, and he replaced the barrier in his mind again.

“You have been spending time with Mudbloods,” she spat, eyes blazing. 

Regulus' shoulders tensed naturally at her wrath, but he didn't deny it. “I must in my role as Prefect. It does not supersede outside my duties, of course.”

Both his parents shook their heads. “Mudbloods as Prefects—it’s disgusting what Hogwarts has amounted to,” Orion growled. 

“Vile,” his mother agreed. “Make sure you bathe after supper. I do not want any diseases you may have caught in their presence.”

He nodded, mind rebelling for a moment and thinking of how wrong she was. “Of course.”

“Make sure you do not touch them,” his mother ranted onwards. He could almost imagine Sirius screaming in Muggleborn's defence had he been here. “It is spread through contact.”

“I would not,” he assured while Orion rolled his eyes. 

“Regulus knows better, dear. He’s got a good head on his shoulders,” he reassured, and Regulus felt conflicted at how he sat up straighter at his praise, although it was not a very admirable compliment, nor true. 

“What of Celeste?” his mother continued, obviously having seen them spending time together on rounds. 

“She is not… suitable,” he said slowly. He hoped it would not get her in trouble with her own parents.

His parents seemed to agree with his assessment, however. “I knew those Delacour girls were whores,” Mother said.

Orion nodded in agreement. “The moment we found out about that child the eldest had out of wedlock we should have severed connection—a marriage to them would be abhorrent.”

Regulus nodded, pleased they seemed to have reached their own conclusion about it, although he didn’t really think calling Celeste a whore was necessary. He was pretty sure making out with Evan a little bit was about as crazy as she got. 

“Still no child from Bellatrix,” his mother commented next. His family didn’t really have boundaries when it came to discussing heirs and everyone’s sex lives. “Nor Narcissa.”

“Narcissa had that stillborn after Hogwarts, at least,” Orion said. As if a miscarriage could ever be a celebratory thing. “Her and Lucius, at least we know to be fertile. Bellatrix, however—twenty-five and not a single child!”

Walburga nodded in agreement. “She is failing in her duties—Cygnus is beside himself. Already he was cursed with three daughters from that dreadful Druella and not a single son before she died.”

Druella was a Rosier before marrying his uncle. Evan’s aunt, they had realised, but he’d never met her. She died many years ago now but had practically raised their children herself beforehand. Cygnus, after all, was still a Hogwarts student for all of their births. 

“The family line has never been in such jeopardy,” Orion commented darkly. “Millennia of power, soon to be squandered. You understand your duty, do you not, Regulus, and the severity of the situation?”

Regulus nodded, stomach twisting at the implications. “Of course, Father, my duty is to my family.”

Orion nodded. “Good. You are the only remaining Black Heir. Your duties to the family come before your service to the Dark Lord. Your mother and I are in discussion to solve this so your future will not be impacted.”

Regulus nodded, but his mind was whirling, trying to decipher what he could mean. “My future as Head of House?” he inquired. 

“Eager!” Orion chuckled in amusement. “Of course, the seat will be yours one day, when I deem fit. Society is in a state of upheaval, however, and do you know what follows ruin?” he asked.

Regulus shook his head ‘no’.

“Rebuilding, and the reform of governing systems," Orion explained. “The Dark Lord is leading us to victory, and the Black name once again has a chance to be active in policymaking and Ministry, outside of just investments. At one time, we were the Ministry. It was foolish to ever relinquish that power. But we have the chance to resume that honour following our victory.

“We’ve trained you to be great, Regulus, and untimely changes will not alter that.” Regulus supposed Sirius running away was just an ‘untimely change.' “I will teach you to be Lord, and all the responsibilities which come with it when it is prudent. In the meantime, however, you are to continue on the path which was laid out for you. We promised the Dark Lord a servant, and it is an honoured role you are destined to fulfil. You will bring glory and worth to our name and win his favour. Then can we harness the power which we’ve been denied for decades.”

Regulus nodded, his mind cataloguing this new information. Orion planned to remain Lord until he earned their position at the Dark Lord’s side. If he survived the war, then he would be trained to assume the role.

Dying in the war didn’t sound concurrent with saving the bloodline, however.

“And what of my Heir?” he asked.

Orion and Walburga shared a look. “Worry not,” Orion said eventually. “As I said, we are discussing how to resolve that matter.”

Regulus stabbed at a piece of pot roast, his appetite gone. It seemed obvious they were discussing a betrothal. It sounded as though he didn’t have the time he had thought he did if they planned to marry him off and have heirs before he entered his service.

A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, the certainty of its tightening just a matter of time.

. . .

Arriving in the Lestrange Manor gave him the horrible sensation of deja vu. 

Regulus had been sent here numerous times over the years to train with Rudolphus in the Dark Arts. Sometimes Sirius would be forced to join, but he often was expected to accompany Orion to meetings and luncheons instead, and in his free time, he usually escaped to the Potters. There was also the year when Sirius was at Hogwarts, and Regulus was still too young to go, of course. 

He wished he had been able to escape to the Potters too. Now, and all those years ago with Sirius. Perhaps he could’ve been saved from this warped version of himself he inevitably became. 

“Regulus,” Rudolphus greeted, appearing in the archway of the door connecting to their Floo. “How good to see you! It’s been too long.”

He had dark features, not dissimilar to Regulus’ own, but he was taller and more masculine with a well-groomed beard fitted concisely on his jaw. Instead of pale skin, he was tanned, and he had an air around him that was relaxed and uncaring. A new scar stretched from his eyebrow to his temple, Regulus noticed.

When he was younger, earning Rudolphus’ attention had made him feel special. Regulus was constantly overlooked—family and friends were only interested in Sirius, the Black Heir. Sirius thrived under scrutiny and was able to chat and socialise with people of any age or status. Meanwhile, Regulus barely spoke at all, and when he did, it was too quiet and mumbled for anyone to understand him. He was no star of the show, to say the least.

Sirius acted as his translator for many years until all the lessons in speaking he’d received finally took effect. He was still nervous, but he could speak without issue, which was all his parents had truly cared about. Project your voice, open your mouth wider, enunciate! These were constant lessons that had dominated most of his childhood until he mastered them. Their parents often forced the boys apart in light of this—it was not healthy for him to be so reliant on his older brother, they thought.

“Ah, c’mon Reggie, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?”

Regulus forced himself to move, grabbing the hand which had been offered and ignoring how his own trembled. “Hello,” he said, but his tongue felt too thick and his voice weak. It was like he was trying to speak while under the water. 

It felt like it did when he was a kid again when, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get people to understand him. 

Rudolphus had understood him. Other than Sirius, he was the only person who was patient enough to kneel to his height and let him work his way through getting his words out. Regulus always enjoyed it when he was at the dinner parties—it was one more person who didn’t think he was dumb and looked at him with something other than disdain. 

“Actin' all shy again, aren’t ya? Well, no worries—let’s get to it.”

Regulus followed the older man through the Lestrange mansion to their basement in a trance. He was familiar with the layout by now. At the bottom of the stairs, the right would take him to the dungeons, while to the left was the training room. 

The training room was large but unobtrusive. At perhaps half the size of the Great Hall, it was very plain, with grey stone making up its walls and floor. There were several training dummies strewn throughout it, as well as other types of simulators and practice equipment. The walls and entirety of the room were heavily reinforced with wards to protect the integrity of the manor itself. A duelling stage was left in small components to the side, ready to be assembled at the wave of a wand. 

And, of course, there were the dungeons nearby as well, should more lively targets ever be required. The heavy iron door shut behind them with a resounding thud. Regulus felt his heart stop as it latched close. 

“Ready?” Rudolphus asked, but Regulus couldn’t bring himself to respond. He was frozen.

He couldn’t do this.  

He really couldn’t.

“Oh, c'mon,” his mentor goaded. “Don’t be like that.” When he didn't respond, Rudolphus stepped in front of him, his black eyes assessing him carefully. “It’s okay, Reggie,” he said softly. "You don't have to be nervous around me. It's the same as when we last saw each other, alright? Nothing's changed."

Regulus nodded, voice still caught in his throat. He didn't know what else to do. Rudolphus gave him a sad smile, though, bumping his arm gently. 

"I really did miss you around here," he said. "And you were doing so well when we last left off! Has school been alright this year? You made Prefect, didn't you?"

Regulus nodded again, wetting his lips. "Yeah," he finally forced himself to say. 

"That's amazing. I'm proud of you, kid, I really am. I know that probably was tough for you."

Regulus couldn't hear much past the sound of his own breathing. His words were trapped in his chest, locked away. His lip twitched, the shadow of an emotion making its way to the surface. "It's been okay," he finally agreed. He never thought he'd be able to be a good Prefect, but he was doing it. He was managing, anxiety and all. 

Say it, he encouraged himself. Tell him. 

Rudolphus smirked, looking more pleased.

And then he was kissing him. 

“I missed you. You’ve grown up so much since the last time I’ve seen you.”

His beard stubble hurt his face. 

“We have a bit of time to catch up before we have to get to work, what do you say? Just like old times?”

His hands felt cold on either side of his jaw—it was all wrong.

But then he was kissing him again, and Regulus stayed perfectly still. 

Speak, his brain urged. Tell him you don’t want to do this anymore. Tell him you’ve changed your mind. 

That was the major difference between Sirius and him. Sirius would never allow this to happen. He would speak his mind, and tell Rudolphus off. He was brave; he was confident. He stood up for himself and for his beliefs. Sirius always said that Regulus was a coward for staying silent. 

And he was right. 

Regulus was a coward, and he didn’t speak at all.

. . .

He was losing his mind.

Regulus scrubbed at himself in the bathtub, the water scalding hot and burning his skin.

It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

He sobbed so hard he couldn’t breathe. Snot and tears ran down his face, but he did nothing to clean them up; he just scrubbed at his skin harder and harder. Regulus choked again, a pitiful moan escaping his throat as helplessness overwhelmed him. His nails dug into his arms, carving crescent moons into his flesh as he shuddered in pain. 

What was wrong with him? This didn't happen anymore—he'd gotten over it. He'd gotten better. 

Regulus knew what had changed. As hard as he tried not to think about him, he knew who had destroyed the fragile peace he'd made with himself. Who had come into his life and flipped everything Regulus had thought he'd known so callously on its back. Who'd shown him, unequivocally, how things could be.

How much he didn't want this anymore.

How much he hated himself for doing it in the first place. 

The air didn't seem to be able to fill his lungs properly—his breaths were coming out as strangled gasps. Something was wrong with him; something was wrong with him, and it wasn't going away. He felt like he was nine years old again, unable to speak, his face covered in mucus and wetness but not having the sense to clean it off. He felt like a little kid, disgusting and unable to care for himself.

Confused and in pain. 

And then Kreacher was there, wiping his face clean with a washcloth like he used to all those years ago.

“It’s okay, Master Regulus,” he comforted.

“It’s not!” he yelled, but the fight left his body regardless. He lay curled up in the water, naked and vulnerable, as Kreacher gently cleaned him and applied ointment to his injuries from his training.

From training, and from everything else.

“It’s okay, Master Regulus,” Kreacher crooned gently.

He shook his head.

It's not.

. . .

“The attack at the Civil Ministry today was quite successful,” his father hummed over supper.  “Fourteen Ministry workers dead, and only one Death Eater.”

His mother nodded. “That’s wonderful, dear. Are your men prepared to step into their roles?”

“Of course. The Ministry will be calling any day now for interviews—they certainly don’t take long to replace a position, let me tell you. I’ve said it for years, Regulus, and this just goes to show it. You always need to be at least two steps ahead of your opponents. That way, as soon as one thing falls into place, everything else will just follow naturally.”

Like dominoes, Regulus thought, thinking of the toppling Muggle game. 

. . .

Rudolphus shook his head at him. “You have to mean Unforgiveables, Reggie. Focus! You need to focus.”

Regulus stared at the cat in front of him, his world blurry. 

“I’m not going to kill a fucking kitten, Sirius."

“Imperio," he tried again, but it just continued cleaning itself, unaware of the danger it was in. 

Rudolphus sighed. “C'mon, kid, it’s not that fucking hard. Do you want me to cast it on you so you can get a feel for it?”

“No!” Regulus shouted, stepping back and raising his wand defensively. Rudolphus raised an eyebrow at him in amusement as the memory of the curse overwhelmed him. 

“Imperio.”

It was peacefulness like he'd never experienced before. His dad was staring at him, eyes blazing, but Regulus just watched in a daze, a passenger in his own mind. All of his worries—his anxiety—were gone. He felt vaguely happy, as if everything were alright. And it was alright, wasn't it? He didn't feel as if there were anything wrong. 

“Here’s a reminder of what will happen if you fail me. I have eyes everywhere—I own Wizengamot, the Aurors, the school. You won’t be foolish like your brother, will you? Because I don’t have the patience to go through this a second time," his father warned him. " Go into the cellar, and do not come out. If you ever try to run away—if you ever even think about it, remember what I can do.”

Go to the cellar.

He made his way to the cellar.

Step.                               

      By step.                 

                       By step.         

                                          By step.  

Do not come out. 

And everything hit him at once.

His thirst, first. Then, his hunger. Then, the soreness of his muscles, the stench of filth.

And then the fear. 

Regulus had sat in the cellar for at least a few days and hadn’t tried a single thing. He hadn’t even considered the idea of trying anything.  He had been helpless, completely vulnerable. His body had been completely out of control, as if it weren't even his own—

Anything could have happened. His father could have made him do anything.

“Awful, isn’t it, Regulus?” his father said sadly over his panic. “I want you to remember this. Remember what will happen. Do not make me do this to you again, please.” His voice sounded nearly desperate. “Please, Regulus. I’ve already lost one son. I’m not going to lose you.”

He nodded, fear too poignant still for him to even fully react.

“You won’t, Father,” he said desperately. “I won’t—you won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Okay, I won’t. Just get it done, Merlin,” Rudolphus laughed at him.

"Imperio," he cast, panic growing. 

His father hadn’t hurt him. He hadn’t made him do anything terrible. But he could’ve, and it made Regulus want to tear his skin off.

The cat stopped cleaning and looked up at him, its eyes momentarily opaque. 

Rudolphus clapped. “Good job! Okay, the next one now.”

. . . 

He was alone in his room. 

Regulus was always alone in his room, unless he was forced to be elsewhere. 

No humans lived at Grimmauld Place anymore. There were just ghosts.

The gold stag stared at him from his bedside table. 

The forest prince. 

James.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, out of tears. “I’m sorry.”

. . . 

“Have you managed the Unforgivables yet?” his father asked him over supper. 

Regulus nodded. “All three.”

He tried not to think of that poor cat. Avada was easy after Crucio—it had felt like a mercy, at least. 

“Fantastic, all three at fifteen! That’s something to be proud of, Regulus. That’s strong magic.”

He didn’t feel strong. He felt weaker than ever.

“And what about your shields? A good defence is crucial.”

. . . 

He was sitting in the bathtub. 

He was shivering.

The water had gotten so cold. 

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher said, standing on the bathtub edge and putting a hand on each of his temples. He guided Regulus to recline so he was resting against the backrest. With a snap of his fingers, the bath was hot again. 

He started washing his hair thoroughly.

“Master Regulus, you must get ready for the ball.”

. . .

The Malfoy Manor was decorated gorgeous. 

Narcissa did have an eye for interior decorating, Regulus thought. It looked fabulous. 

She was standing with him at the edge of the room. She made small talk easily with him—he always did like her best. She was kind and gentle, and always looked at him with a softness in her expression. Perhaps she understood what it was like to be the youngest in a family. 

The hall was filled with guests in luscious gowns and fine-tailored suits. Everyone rich, Pureblood, or powerful, was in attendance.

His parents might have managed to train him to speak properly, but they couldn’t train him to be social. To want people’s attention. 

They couldn’t make him into Sirius. 

He stayed at the edge of the room for the evening.

. . .

Yule felt like a fever dream. 

Regulus was sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the large flames lick over the Yule log. It was coloured brilliant greens and silvers, a bit of each family member’s magic offered to it as part of their opening ritual. 

He sipped at the Goblin’s Rum in his hand absent-mindedly. He missed Sirius. Even when they had grown apart, Sirius remained a constant presence at his side during intimate family parties. Even his brave older brother needed a bit of an anchor at these events, Regulus was sure. In the privacy of their homes, all his family members were… unfortunately themselves.

To his right on the couch sat his father and then his uncle, Cygnus. Both men were red-faced from liquor and laughing so hard. His mother was standing by the doorframe talking to Bellatrix, who looked deadly in her green velvet gown.

Bellatrix was Rudolphus’ wife. They weren’t together overly often, except when it was required. Regulus forgot sometimes that they were married. Rudolphus himself was in the corner with Lucius and Narcissa, likely discussing something business-related based on their serious expressions.

Arcturus and Pollux were in the seats in front of him, directly by the fire’s warmth. Regulus rarely saw his grandfathers—he suspected it might have to do with his parents hating them. Holidays called for forced closeness, but he suspected as he got older, the excessive use of alcohol was more so to divert a murder than out of festive cheer. 

“I tell you, Regulus—you’ve got to make the most of your youth! Women, once they reach a certain age, just don’t work the same as the young ones do,” Pollux was slurring. 

Muggles in the UK had age laws defining consent for marriage and even sex, Regulus had read. If they didn’t hate them so much, maybe his family could’ve found some merit in their ways of progress. Certainly they, out of all the Wizarding families, could’ve benefited from it.

Pollux had his mother when he was just thirteen, after all, and he’d married Cygnus off even younger.

“Once they get too old, they dry up useless!” Cygnus said loudly in agreement, looking at his daughters pointedly. 

Bellatrix’s eyes gleamed in anger, her face flushing, but she held her tongue. Narcissa simply looked downwards while Lucius turned slightly to block her from view. 

Everyone but the women laughed. 

. . .

Tell him you want to stop. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.

Still, he didn’t say a single word.

What if I tell him no, but he doesn’t care?

. . . 

Regulus was lying in his bed a few days after Yule with Kreacher sitting beside him cross-legged. His knobby back was pressed up against his own from where he lay curled up on his side. 

Regulus called him to his room for no reason except to sit beside him. The loneliness was overwhelming, sometimes. 

“When Kreacher was 121, Kreacher got into the biggest trouble of his long life,” he was saying. “Kreacher thought it might be a good idea to try to take Mistress Cassiopeia’s silver platter outside in the snow. He had seen the children do it on garbage can lids, see? And he thought it might be fun. At 121, Kreacher was very bad, and very lawless.”

That caused a laugh to escape from Regulus. 

Lawless was Kreacher's favourite way to describe Sirius. It was funny to think the House-elf would ever admit to being even somewhat similar to his least favourite person. 

The thing about House-elves, particularly very old ones, Regulus had learnt though, is that it was almost as if they had lived several lifetimes. In many ways, they had. Each generation was a new family, a new dynamic. Each family was a new story.

Regulus' family would be his next story. He wanted to make it a happy one.

. . .

“Non-verbal spells—have you been working on them?”

Regulus nodded. That was one thing he and Evan had managed to practice while at Hogwarts. Evan was trained similarly to him, however, between his brothers and father, perhaps more mercilessly, and more frequently. He lived with them, after all. 

Regulus was just expected to come whenever Rudolphus happened to be free. Today had been one of those days. 

Evan was undoubtedly a stronger wizard than him.  He had grit beyond imagination, and his magic was powerful and resilient, just like he was as a person. His non-verbal magic was extensive, while Regulus still struggled with several of the simplest spells. It hadn't dissuaded Evan from trying to help him, though. 

“Good! Okay, we’ll practice then. I won’t cast anything permanent. Focus on your wordless spells for offensive—it’s the best way you can get ahead in a duel.”

Regulus nodded. 

There was a fire in his chest.

He wanted to hurt Rudolphus. 

. . .

“Ah, Merlin!” Regulus bit against the sock he had shoved in his mouth, trying to muffle his screams of anguish as Kreacher dumped Essence of Dittany on the gashes that covered his torso. Not permanent his arse. 

“Stop moving,” Kreacher scolded, ignoring his cries of pain. 

With a billow of smoke, slowly but surely, the wounds started to close. 

He flipped to lay on his stomach once they were done so Kreacher could heal the gashes on his back. Rudolphus had won their duel, but Regulus knew he was getting closer. He was more encouraged than ever to continue to work on his martial magic. He wouldn’t join Mulciber’s stupid gang, though—no, he and Evan could practice on their own. Maybe Barty, too, since he seemed set on getting involved one way or another.

Once Regulus beat Rudolphus, then he’d be done with his training. And then he wouldn’t need to see him anymore.

With slight amusement, Regulus looked at the scarred flesh of his forearms and laughed darkly. He’d been too focused on surviving the holiday break he hadn’t even had time to think, he realised.

He hadn’t hurt himself once since he’d gotten home. 

. . . 

“They are too willful! Lucius lets Narcissa get away with anything—she was discussing going to France for a month to travel, and he’s given her permission!

“And Bellatrix is more man than woman with every passing day, participating in attacks and insisting on fighting. She acts as if marriage is the end of her responsibilities. She wants to be a soldier!”

Cygnus had joined their family for dinner tonight. 

It was a nice break to hear someone else complain about their children for once.

. . .

"Master Regulus should be getting to bed," Kreacher scolded later that night.

"But Kreacher, I’m in bed," he joked, but it fell flat.

Sirius’ room was exactly as he left it.

He was burned off the tapestry, but Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if he was still allowed in the wards. Sirius had been the heart of this family, and without him, the house was just an empty ribcage.

Regulus missed him so much.

“Do you remember when Sirius used to sneak into my room after bedtime so we could stay up and talk longer?” Regulus asked Kreacher, not moving from his curled-up position on his big brother’s bed. It wasn’t made—its sheets were ruffled, and the comforter flipped from when Sirius had woken up the morning before he left.

He was probably imagining it, but he thought he could smell him still.

Kreacher shook his head in disdain. “He never listened to Kreacher. Always getting into trouble—too big for his britches. He thought he was better than The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.”

Regulus smiled sadly. “Yeah, he was.”

. . . 

“I’ll miss you,” Rudolphus said. It was their last training session before he was due to go back to school. “Keep up the good work. You’ll be a powerful dueller yet. I’m glad you’ll be by my side out in the field.”

Regulus nodded quietly, stepping into the Floo without another word. 

It was done.

. . .

It was the night before the Hogwarts Express. Regulus held the gold stag in his hand, feeling the hard ridges of its antlers with his fingertips. He would get to see James tomorrow. It had been two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. 

A wave of guilt overwhelmed him, but he shoved it away. He and James weren’t really dating yet—James didn’t want to be official until he spoke to Sirius. And chances were Sirius told him what an awful idea it was, and he was going to return to school tomorrow and still be single regardless. 

I didn’t cheat on him. 

Whether James showed up to end what they were doing, or somehow he meant what he said and he wanted to see Regulus still, Regulus didn’t have to tell him about anything that had happened because they weren’t really together yet. And he might not show up at all, he reminded himself. 

James even could’ve hooked up with someone else over the break, and Regulus would never know. And he wouldn’t expect him to tell him about it either, even if it made him feel like throwing up to think about it. Regulus was sure he did, honestly. Maybe Lily. 

James had liked her for so long, and it seemed like she might like him too now. She was better for him anyway—she was kind and beautiful and smart. Just like James was. 

Regulus rolled over to his other side, looking away from the stag.

If James wanted to continue, though—if he wanted to keep seeing him—Regulus would make it up to him. He liked to make James feel good. He deserved to feel good—James could have any piece of him he wanted. Regulus didn’t dare hope that James would want anything more than that, however. He couldn’t stand to face any more disappointment in the state he was in right now. 

Sleep evaded him all night as he lay in anxiety, knowing that tomorrow might be the day he loses James. His mind argued back and forth, weighing the possible outcomes of what may happen. 

Sirius would be right to demand James end it. He saw through Regulus for what he really was; he knew that Regulus was a bad person, that he was rotten and decaying inside. Sirius would be right to want to try to save his best friend from that. 

He had only just gotten away from this shell of a family himself, after all.

Regulus wasn’t sure what he would do if James left, though.

He was still barely surviving Sirius doing it. 

Chapter Text

The last day of the winter break went by in a blur. Before James knew it, they were boarding the Hogwarts Express to go back to school. He got to see Regulus today—he could barely contain his excitement. 

James had to half-carry Sirius back home after the puking incident on New Year’s Eve. He had popped into the party just long enough to let Peter and Remus know they were heading out. He had offered for everyone to have a sleepover at his place, but only Peter showed. 

He wasn’t sure if Sirius was more upset the next morning when James recollected for him what had happened the night before, or when he had pieced together over breakfast that Remus hadn’t come back to James’ house at all afterwards. Sirius didn’t seem to remember James' confession about Regulus, and he was in too shitty of a mood for James to want to try again. He was clearly devastated over learning about Moony and Rhys and properly hungover now, on top of that. Definitely not the best timing. 

James tried to cheer him up, but Sirius wouldn’t budge. He barely spoke all day, moping around the house instead and playing with his food at mealtimes. His parents had made efforts as well, but he was unaffected. 

His mum and dad hugged them both extra long on the platform Monday morning. 

They were worried about Sirius. He had woken up that morning just as moody as he’d been the day before. For himself, however, James knew they were trying to convey an apology for their reaction to his relationship with Regulus. He felt unmoved—he was just going to have to prove them wrong, it was all there was to it.

Sirius stared out the window the entire train ride in. Remus had to go to the Prefect’s carriage for a meeting and to patrol, so it was just them and Peter until Marlene arrived.  When she inquired, Sirius confirmed that he and Mary were done. Mary lived in a Muggle house, so James figured they must’ve owled each other the day before to sort things out. 

Peter gave him a look several times over supper that evening—he wasn’t the only one worried about Sirius. 

Remus, too, picked up on his state just seconds after sitting down once he’d finished his Prefect duties. He watched Sirius warily while he pushed food around on his plate. “You okay, Padfoot?” he asked eventually, forehead creased in concern. 

Sirius looked up and smiled. “Yeah, just tired. I’m all good.”

He was lying. James had seen him do it enough by now to be able to tell. Remus was the only person Sirius had even bothered to try to trick into thinking he was okay, however, so that told him all he needed to know. 

James wished he had known what was going on earlier. He wished he had known before the Prank so that he could’ve helped them better. It was killing him to see them like this. 

In the common room after supper, he saw Violet sitting in the corner. As eager as he was to try to get to The Room, he had an idea that he thought might be able to help his friends out at least a bit.

“Hey, Violet,” he greeted, smiling when she glanced up at him. As he expected, the little white fluff ball was in her lap. It was larger than the last time he’d seen it, but that was an entire month ago now, so perhaps that was to be expected. “Did you have a good Christmas?” he inquired, sitting down next to her. 

Sirius and the gang had paused by the fireplace watching him, and he waved at them to join him. 

She smiled. “It was great. This is Pip—Evan and Regulus gave her to me!” She was already passing Pip over to him. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

He was in love. She had long hair that was pristine and white and softer than the softest blanket he’d ever touched. Her eyes were a magnificent gold that reminded him of Moony’s, although the cutest part was the markings on her fur: she had four little black boots on, as well as black-tipped ears. All down her body, she had faded black stripes, and on her tail, they were more distinct, like a raccoon's.

He understood what Regulus had been trying to convey before the break now; James was obsessed. He was completely in love. He would die for this kitten. 

It was the most perfect cat he had ever met. 

Pip was purring contently already, leaning into his hand as he stroked her chin. 

“Sirius…” he pleaded, looking at him as he sat down next to him. “She’s so cute,” he moaned, “I think I might die.” 

He passed her into Sirius’ lap without any preamble. It wasn’t long before a smile broke out on Sirius' face as he petted her. Kittens could fix anything, James was sure. 

“So, what did you do during your break?” Peter conversed, reaching across the circle they had formed to give Pip a few pets himself. She playfully swatted at his hand. 

Violet shrugged. “Not that much. I read, and they had a Yule Feast here for everyone who stayed. Evan took me out flying a few times and to play in the snow, but mostly, we just played with Pip.” Her eyes lit up suddenly, and she leaned forward as if telling a secret. “He took me to the Slytherin common room. It’s under the lake! He said sometimes you could see the Giant Squid and the Merpeople from the windows.”

James felt his eyes widen. “Really?”

Violet nodded. “Really. We watched for a while, but all I saw was a couple of fish.”

James smiled, too—Remus always tried so hard to be unimposing. He’d rather hide away than inconvenience someone by making them feel uncomfortable with his scars or avoid the kitten completely, in this case, instead of making anyone feel worried. When James looked at him, however, Remus wasn’t looking at the kitten at all but at Sirius, his eyes shining with gratitude. 

Sirius didn’t notice—he was too busy smiling at Pip still. He didn’t do it to try to earn his affection—he just always treated Remus as if he were normal, which, at the end of the day, was all he really wanted. 

James sat back a bit then, feeling more settled. 

Things would be okay.

. . . 

James practically broke the door down when he finally arrived on the seventh floor. He hadn't been able to wait any longer—Pip was cute, but he had gotten more and more anxious to see Regulus with every passing minute. He took off without any explanation to his group; he’d deal with that when he got back if he had to. 

Regulus stood at the sound of the door opening. He barely had time to make it to his feet before James was on him, pulling him into a hug. “I missed you so much,” he moaned, shoving his face into his hair and inhaling him deeply.

Regulus sank into his hug, his arms clinging onto his back just as desperately. “Fuck,” he just said softly, trying to press himself into James’ body with equally reckless abandon. James held onto him for minutes. Enough time went by that he knew he should be letting go, but he didn’t want to. He’d pushed his worry off all break, and now being here and seeing him safe…

He didn’t want to ever have to do that again. 

Eventually, he knew he had to release him though. He loosened his grip, but just enough that he could pull back to look down at his face. 

Merlin, he’s beautiful.

He looked tired. His eyes, while glistening and bright, appeared pained. James brought his thumb up to the lines at their corners, gently pressing along them as if to soothe them out. Under them looked bruised, obvious he hadn’t been resting, and his skin was sallow and worn. 

James kissed his forehead, then, in the same breath, leaned down to catch his lips. Regulus practically whimpered.

James was surprised when Regulus pulled back suddenly, tightening his arms around James' neck and jumping, wrapping his legs around his waist. James caught him instinctively, hands reaching to support him under his thighs and bum. James moaned appreciatively into this next kiss, knowing that he couldn’t get any closer. Still, Regulus wiggled against him, adjusting himself so they were pressed together perfectly at every inch, starting from their lips down to their chests and bellies and then groins. 

He manoeuvred them towards the couch, just thinking finally. 

Finally, finally, finally.

. . . 

It was probably embarrassingly quick, but James didn’t care. 

Regulus was boneless against him, catching his breath with shaky inhales. James started kissing him slowly, starting at his temple and then moving down to his cheek and jaw. When he pulled away, Regulus was looking at him in awe, pupils still blown and mouth partly open. James snuck in one more kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“I didn’t even take my jacket off,” he said after a moment. Regulus barked out a laugh after a quick assessment.

“No, I guess not.”

He rolled off of him so James could take off the extra layer. In sequence, they both cleaned themselves off and worked on refastening their pants. Regulus gave him the side eye from where he was perched on the couch once he was done, and James made a grabby motion at him.

“Come ‘ere,” he ordered gently. “We have two weeks of cuddles to catch up on.”

Smiling now and any hint of uncertainty gone, Regulus pressed up to his side, tucking himself against him comfortably. James hummed in contentment. Perfect.

“So,” he said, starting with a light topic. “I got to meet Pip. It’s what Violet named the kitten.”

Regulus looked up at him, eyes wide with childish excitement. “And?” he pressed.

James rolled his eyes. “And she is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever met on this earth! I wanted to squeeze her and just—She was so perfect. Ugh.” He reached out and demonstrated squishing something between his hands, overwhelmed by how much he wanted to just do something to her. He felt a bit mental with affection. 

Regulus laughed. “I knew you’d love her,” he declared, smiling at him knowingly. Silence filled the space between them, and slowly, his smile faded as the seconds passed. 

James took a deep breath. He knew what he was waiting for.

“So, I did tell Sirius,” he said, noting the way Reg’s eyes widened slightly. “But the thing is, he was really drunk, and I don’t think he remembers. But I will again soon, I promise. It just wasn’t… great timing.”

Regulus shrugged, glancing away. “Honest James, it’s probably better you didn’t.”

James didn't give in. “I know, I know—but I have to. He’s my best friend. And the sooner I tell him, the better it’ll be. I promise.”

“Okay,” Regulus said simply, unconvinced. 

“I also was thinking," James took a deep breath, "even if Sirius doesn’t quite know yet, I would like to still be official. If you would have me?”

He expected Regulus to be happy, but when he met James' eye, he just looked petrified. “Reg?” he asked, concern mounting. He couldn’t have misread this, right? They’d practically been dating for months already!

Regulus shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry! I, um," He bit his lip, blood appearing under his teeth. The skin was already raw from abuse, his lip swollen and red. “I’m just surprised,” he said finally, eyes a bit distant. “Are you—are you sure?”

James nodded. “Of course. I like you so much, and I don’t plan on going anywhere. Unless you don’t want me, of course.”

Regulus drew away from him, his body taut, and James felt his stomach plummet. 

“I’m sorry…” he said immediately, worry filling him.

“No, don’t say sorry. I don’t know why I’m—I just…” Regulus bit his lip again, his teeth getting painted red as he swiped over it with his tongue. James stared at the blood, unmoving. Second by second, Regulus was pulling away further from him. “I just…” He took a few deep breaths, face distraught, and tried again. “I just wasn’t sure that you liked me,” he admitted finally, mouth pulled in a tight line. 

James reeled. “Like you? Regulus, I love you,” he declared suddenly, eyebrows pulled together in concern. He wanted to reach out but found he couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure if Regulus wanted that, not with how his body was positioned at the moment, like he was waiting to get struck. 

Regulus’ eyes flicked back to him again, wide and unseeing. James hated it. He hated seeing him look like this.

“What?” he asked in a whisper. 

James nodded, determined to fix things. “Yeah, I know it’s only been—" He stopped when tears spilt over Regulus’ eyes in two thin lines down to his jawline, his gaze still distant. “Reg," he said, a bit panicked now. Regulus shook his head ‘no’, mouth in a tight line. 

“You don’t love me,” he stated, his voice surprisingly level. 

“I do—I’ve been thinking about it all month.” 

“No, you don’t,” Regulus said louder, desperation beginning to seep through. “You don’t—you don’t even know me.” He stood up suddenly then, taking several quick steps away. James stood up to try to stop him, but Regulus just increased the distance, tripping over his own feet as he tried to make it to the door. “This was a mistake,” he said, ignoring James' pleas for him to stop. “It was never going to work.” 

“Regulus, please,” James begged. “Please just stop and talk to me for a minute.”

“No,” Regulus said evenly, reaching for the handle, silver eyes catching his own.“This isn’t—I’m not who you think I am. It’ll be better this way. You’ll see,” he promised. 

James shook his head 'no', response on his tongue, but Regulus had already turned his back to him, stepping through the doorway. 

And then it closed shut behind him. 

James stared at the door, hands left open to his side uselessly. His heart slowly shattered, piece by piece, dropping like bits of a broken mirror until it collapsed on itself. He was too shocked to even cry. It didn’t feel real—he hardly believed it even had happened, except he was standing alone in The Room now, with the air still charged by remnants of Regulus’ presence.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered, unsure of what to do. “I do know you.”

. . .

It was past curfew when he got back to the dorm.

James had stayed in The Room to try to figure out what to do, and then he stayed longer still once the reality of the situation hit him, and he realised Regulus had ended things. Ended things before they had even begun, really. He had told Regulus his intentions before the break, and he hadn't seemed to have any concerns with it then—what had changed?  

His mind made excuses for Regulus: maybe his parents found out and told him to end it, maybe he wanted to keep distant from Sirius, maybe he was just scared. He didn’t believe that Regulus didn’t like him, but he could believe that perhaps he didn’t want to date him. But another part of him was unsure; maybe Regulus just didn't like him. Maybe James had misread the entire thing. 

It was hard to believe with how he'd greeted him, however, before James had brought up dating. The conversation replayed in his mind, Regulus' parting words rattling through his brain like a skipping record.  

He was wrong; Regulus was wrong, James' mind wouldn’t shut up.

James was surprised when he arrived back to his room to find Sirius still awake, reading in his bed by candlelight. Remus and Peter had the curtains on their beds pulled shut. 

“Hey, Pads,” he greeted quietly, making sure not to wake the other boys. He beelined his way straight to his bed, just wanting to crawl under his covers and pull the curtains tight around himself. He couldn’t be with people right now, not when his mind felt like such a mess. 

Sirius had glanced up at his entrance, his eyes tracking him as he crossed the room. “Hey, Prongs.”

Kicking off his shoes, James stripped down quickly, slipping under the covers in just his pants. The darkness of his bed alcove was welcoming. He pulled his blanket up to his chin, curling onto his side. His chest felt like someone had stomped on it. 

The curtains opened suddenly, and he winced at the momentary flicker of light as Sirius slipped in, the mattress shifting with his weight. Without greeting, Sirius laid down on his side in a mimicry of James, looking inward so they were face to face. Even in the dark, James was able to make out the sharp edges of his cheekbone and nose, and the dark shadows of his hair falling over his cheek and neck like flowing water. He pressed his lips together in guilt.

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I’m really tired,” James apologised. “I don’t think I’m up to chatting.” He knew how down Sirius had been feeling—he hated to brush him off, but he just really wanted to be alone. He didn’t think he could fake being fine right now. 

To his surprise, Sirius just nodded, but he made no move to leave. Silence settled over them as he seemed to think. 

“I was just wondering,” he said quietly after a moment, his words uncharacteristically hesitant and soft-spoken, “if you had a good time with Reggie tonight?”

James’ heart stopped. He was actually pretty sure the entire world stopped for a moment around him.

“What?” he breathed, his eyebrows pulling together as he considered what he thought he had heard.

“I just—I just wanted to know if you had a good time with Reggie tonight?” Sirius repeated, his voice still soft.

James blinked. He had definitely heard that right. “You know?” 

Sirius nodded. “I remembered what you said on New Year's Eve. I just pretended I didn’t so I could think about it.”

Guilt washed over James. Was that why he’d been so quiet? Had it been about Moony at all?

“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m so sorry! I should’ve told you sooner,” he apologised desperately.

Sirius shrugged gently, just the smallest movement with his shoulder that he wasn’t laying on. “I was upset at first. I wanted to get mad at you, but I didn’t want to mess up again.” Sirius' voice sounded wet, and James resisted the urge to pull him into a hug and instead let him say his piece. He’d made both Black brothers cry tonight—he was pretty sure he was the worst person in the world. “I’d fucked up with Mary. I’d fucked up with Remus—I keep fucking up with him, and I already fucked up with Reggie. I didn’t want to fuck up with you, too,” he explained.

James did pull him into a hug, then. At their ages, the bed was a bit tight for the two of them, but to James, it felt the same as when they were eleven and used to whisper secrets all night in the same spots. “You won’t—you can’t,” he promised him. “You’re my brother. Nothing will come between us.”

Sirius nodded from where he was pressed up against his chest. He pulled back then so they could look at each other face to face again. “I decided to wait a bit. Before talking to you—I didn’t want to mess up again. Not with you. I understand why you didn’t tell me, why Remus doesn’t tell me things anymore. And I don’t want you to feel that way about me. I want to do better.”

“Thank you,” James whispered.

Sirius smiled then, just with the corners of his mouth curving up a little. “I still, well... I don’t really get it, to be honest. I didn’t even know Reggie was like that. But I know you, and I know you didn’t do this to hurt me. So I can’t be mad, even if I think your taste is a bit questionable.”

James shrugged sadly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I don’t think you’ll have to deal with it anymore," he admitted. "I think it’s over.”

Sirius froze, eyebrows popping up comically. “Seriously?” he asked, voice a harsh whisper. “I spent literal days trying to wrap my head around it, and you ended it with him already?”

A laugh escaped James' lips despite himself. "No, not me," he tried to explain. "Him. He ended things."

Sirius lowered an eyebrow so just one was raised. “Reggie ended things? With you?” James nodded. “That…doesn’t make sense,” Sirius said after a moment, face pinched. “What happened? Is he not like...that?” His inability to say ‘gay’ was a bit concerning. 

“No, he is,"  James confirmed, the sadness overwhelming. He hoped Sirius wasn’t able to see the tears that started rolling over the bridge of his nose and down his temple, wetting the pillow. “Are you sure you want to talk about this? We don’t have to,” he offered. 

Sirius waved him off. “No—I’m invested now. I’m just trying to figure out what idiotic thing you would’ve had to do to get Reggie to break up with you.” He said it like it was completely incredulous, and James felt a wave of appreciation flood him at how great of a catch Sirius seemed to think he was. 

“Well, before the break, I said I was going to talk to you,” he started. 

“Bet he didn’t like that,” Sirius commented, and James nodded in agreement.

“Only because he thought you were going to make me stop seeing him.” 

James could sense as Sirius stiffened slightly. “I wanted to—that was my gut reaction,” he admitted. 

“But you didn’t,” James pointed out. “Anyway, that wasn’t really the point. The point was I said that after I told you, I wanted to go out with him officially. It’d have to be a secret still and stuff, for his sake obviously, but I wanted us to date.”

“Well, what have you been doing up until this point?” Sirius asked in bewilderment, and James could almost imagine the face he was likely pulling.

“Er—" James thought about it a moment. “We never really talked about it,” he admitted. “I guess just hanging out as friends with, well, with benef—"

“If you finish that sentence, I will literally kill you,” Sirius suddenly growled, and James shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked together. “I can’t believe you—he’s a baby, James! You better not have—” Sirius stopped suddenly, and James could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

“Right,” James said after a moment. “Well, he’s actually only a year younger than me. And we haven’t really had—"

“Stop!” Sirius said and then let out an exasperated sigh. “Ugh—I don’t even know who I’m being protective over: you or Reggie!” 

Regulus, James mind supplied, but he didn’t voice it. It was like with the Quidditch match—Sirius refused to acknowledge his feelings when his family was involved. 

“Just tell me what happened,” Sirius said after a moment, voice tight.

James huffed in frustration. “I don’t know! That’s the thing. When we first met up, it was fine—it was normal, and I could tell he missed me. But then I brought up wanting to date again, and he wasn’t sure. So I told him that I love him and—"

“You love him!” Sirius yelled, and James flinched away from the sudden volume. 

They both froze for a moment, holding their breath and straining to hear if he’d woken anyone up. There was a slight rustling as someone readjusted in their bed, and then silence again. 

“You told him you loved him?” Sirius demanded, this time in a harsh whisper.

“It’s been four months,” James defended himself. “That's not even that fast!”

Sirius sighed, his hand coming up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, and you’re you," he said knowingly. "If it was anyone other than Reggie, I probably would’ve been surprised you waited so long, honestly. I just—do you think maybe that was a bit much for him? All at once?”

James paused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that freaked me out a bit, and I wasn’t even the one you were saying it to! Reggie is sensitive—he doesn’t do well with attention on him. Plus, we just got back from the hols—who knows what it might’ve been like at home." Sirius stopped suddenly, and James knew he was dealing with the guilt of leaving his brother. Of remembering what it was like there. “Anything could’ve happened,” he said finally, voice strained.

James thought it over. Could that have been all it was? Had he just come on a little too strong?

“What did he say, exactly?” Sirius pressed. James thought back on their conversation, trying to remember it moment by moment.  

“He asked if I was sure I wanted to date him, and I said I was, but then he started crying—"

“He cried?” Sirius confirmed, his voice subdued.  

“Just a little bit—he didn’t think that I liked him that much. So that’s when I told him I loved him, because how could he think that?”

James nodded, contemplating Sirius' words. He knew he was speaking from experience.

“Do you really love him?” Sirius asked after a moment. 

James didn't have to think about it. “I do.”

There was a long pause. I do, too, he could almost imagine Sirius admitting. He didn’t, though.

Sirius sighed in defeat. “Well then, my advice is that I think he just got overwhelmed. Let him cool off, and try talking to him if you think what you guys have is…” Worth it.

James nodded, a glimmer of hope flickering in his chest. “It is.” It was worth everything to him.

“Then I think you should talk to him again. I don’t get it, but I support you as your best friend. And it seems like he’s made you pretty happy these past few months. I just... I just don’t want you to get hurt, James. He isn’t going in a good direction.”

He wanted to be mad on Regulus’ behalf. He’s your brother, he wanted to remind Sirius. But James was his brother, too—he was Sirius’ chosen family. He couldn’t complain if it was his side that Sirius chose, even if it made his heart hurt for Regulus. 

“Is he okay?” Sirius asked finally. 

James felt like a bowl of water had been dumped over him. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, voice cracking. “But I’m going to help him—I’m going to fix this.”

Chapter Text

It was too much. 

Everything was too much. 

All day since Regulus had rolled out of bed, it had felt like the world was piling on top of his shoulders, the weight of it slowly crushing him. Everyone's voices were too loud, the smells were all too strong and nauseating, and everything that touched his skin felt rough and overpowering. 

Regulus could barely function, all of his energy was exerted into just keeping his body still. Celeste got the hint easily enough that he wasn’t in the mood for talking during their train rounds, but her mouth pursed and eyes narrowed in anger at his snappy responses. He couldn’t be bothered to care if he hurt her feelings—she was lucky he hadn’t yelled or hexed her like he truly wanted to. 

Lily and Remus tried to say 'hi' to him in the Prefect carriage, but he ignored them.

"Mudblood," his mother’s voice echoed in his head. "Half-breed!"

When he was finally freed of his duties, Regulus fled to The Room. He needed somewhere to be alone to sort himself out. He’d felt like he was a good person before the holidays, but now he wasn’t sure. How could he be a good person with everything he’d done?

The Room felt safe. The Muggle inventions and books welcomed him with open arms; it was just the same as he’d left it. He ran his fingers over the shelves and book spines, slowly dragging his feet across the plush carpet, taking in every detail of the place he’d started to consider home. 

He spent the next few hours allowing himself to find comfort in its familiarity, reconnecting with the parts of himself he had siphoned off in its friendly embrace. Maybe it was an act, but he liked who he was at Hogwarts. Regulus wanted to be that person again, even if it was just for a bit longer. He wanted things to go back to how they were before he’d gone home.

It was stupid of him to think he could just flip the switch so easily. 

James arrived, and for a bit, it felt like things would be okay. 

He treated Regulus like he was special—like he was someone who deserved to be missed—and Regulus let himself pretend that he earned it. He let himself bask in his attention, playing the role of someone who merited such glory.

He buried the truth deep down inside of himself. He tried to convince himself everything was alright; he was okay. Things were as they’d been, and nothing had changed in his weeks at home. James had missed him; James wanted him. Nothing was wrong.

It was all lies, though.

A crack appeared in his illusion—for just a second, his vision blurred, and he lost sight of where he was. He ignored it—he focused on the good, on James and his warmth and his smile and laugh. Cracks kept reappearing, though, over and over and over again, until the delusion was shattered completely. And, for a moment, he was back in the training room with Rudolphus, all the layers of his masks ripped away from him. 

Regulus was rotten; infection festered from gaping wounds on his soul and heart. He leaked pus and blood and bile out of his chest; his throat was filled with sludge, and his lungs gurgled with acid. 

He didn’t deserve James’ love. He didn’t even deserve to be seen by James. Regulus' very presence near him was deceptive and disturbing. The dark and vile parts of himself he worked so hard to keep hidden started to drag themselves into the light. Suddenly, he blinked and could see all the dirty prints that his hands had left on James’ light.

He ran. 

Regulus was tainting him. He didn’t want James to know—he didn’t want him to realise how he’d been tricked, how Regulus was nothing like he had thought.

The darkness of his bed chamber was welcomed. He didn’t remember getting there. He was just a bystander in his own mind as his hands pulled off his sweater, fingers working shakily to undo the buttons at his cuff. The bad inside him was too much—he needed to get it out. 

Kreacher didn’t understand, but Regulus had to do it. Everything was rushing past him so quickly, slipping out of his grip. He felt like he was in free fall, propelling towards the ground with his broomstick out of reach. Regulus needed some semblance of control. He needed it. His throat was closing and his heart shuddering and his lungs wouldn't expand.

Everything was too much. It was too much. Everything was too much until suddenly, it just—

                                                                                                                                                    —stopped.                                 

And he was left completely empty. Hollow.

It was like his body just gave up on him. 

He lay on his side, shivering above the blankets, unable to move. He couldn’t toe his shoes off; he couldn’t even lift his head off the pillow. Regulus was stuck there, staring at lax hands that didn’t feel to belong to him, the green bedsheet below his arms slowly darkening.

He just laid there and rotted, mind fuzzy with mould, his body weak and deflated. 

But then something touched his shoulder. 

“Regulus,” he became aware of someone calling to him. Their voice sounded muffled like they were underwater. 

Or maybe he was the one underwater. 

“Reg, look at me, please.”

Evan’s face appeared on the bed just behind his hands, perfectly in his line of sight. The protective curtains around him had been pushed aside. Evan had freckles across his nose, Regulus noticed. More than when he had left for the holidays, at the very least.

“Did you take a potion?” Evan pestered him. Regulus shook his head 'no' to try to convince him to go away, but his head barely moved at his command, and his voice simply would not work. Evan seemed to have gotten the message, though, as he didn’t ask again. He didn’t leave either, however. He just stayed there, kneeling beside his bed with his chin resting on the mattress beside him. 

Regulus knew he should probably tell him that it was okay for him to leave, but he just didn’t have the energy to. Something felt weird, though; something felt warm and… tender. There was something new happening, changing—something he should notice. 

Oh, he realised dimly, staring at his arm where Evan was running his fingertips, outlining the abused area. He's touching me. He didn’t pull away, however, and neither did Evan. Regulus could barely feel the gentle touch, but in his chest, it seemed to tug at something that felt warm and alive, and not numb like the rest of him. It was his heart, he was pretty sure. Beaten and struggling, but still pumping away slow and unsteadily. 

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

There was a whooshing in his ears. People were speaking as well, but he couldn't make out their words, just an imprecise murmur similar to waves lapping at a shoreline. 

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

His breath hitched as someone touched his hip suddenly, and he realised Evan was gone. His body tensed at the uncertainty, but then suddenly Barty’s brown eyes were blinking in front of him, wide and doe-like. 

“I missed you, Reg,” he whispered to him, his smile as warm as his eyes. He used both his hands to try to push Regulus further back into his bed. Evan, he was pretty sure, was pulling his hips back. He didn’t find himself falling off the bed as they moved him—it was as if the mattress was never-ending as they scooted him further and further from the edge.

The bed dipped on both sides of him, and he found himself surrounded by the warm heat of two bodies fencing him in. Neither of them touched him, but he could sense their presence there, close enough that if he were to try to reach out, he’d make contact with them, sentential guards strong at his side. 

Everything jostled as Barty pulled all the curtains close, the returning darkness of the alcove covering them like the blanket of night. He heard Evan’s voice rasp behind him as he cast their faithful red light to illuminate the makeshift room. 

“We’re here with you, Regulus, okay? You can sleep now—we’ll keep you safe.”

Everything still felt fuzzy and fake, but he trusted Evan’s words enough that he let his eyes shut, sighing at the immediate relief it provided to the burning. 

. . . 

The next time he opened his eyes, he was disoriented. Barty, sitting cross-legged in front of him, was studying a textbook diligently, his face furrowed in concentration. Regulus' body was smothered under heavy blankets, but it felt comforting instead of claustrophobic. He shuffled in the bed a bit, raising his hips to roll over. As he moved, he found Evan on his other side. 

He was just lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. At Regulus' readjustments, he turned his head to look at him. “Hey, Reg,” he greeted softly. His eyes were bright, as blue as an alpine lake. “It’s still early—you can keep sleeping, okay? Rest more.”

Regulus felt defiant for a moment. He shouldn’t let his guard down in front of them, or let them see his weakness. He felt so tired, though...

He allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Just a bit longer. 

. . .

He spent a lot of time in the space between wakefulness and sleep. 

Every time, Evan was there on guard, telling him to keep resting. 

. . . 

The next time Regulus woke up, his mind felt clear. He remembered the circumstances of his falling asleep immediately, his eyes snapping open in embarrassment. He was met with the image of Evan’s feet. Trailing his gaze along his legs, he found Evan sitting against the footboard of the bed, a book in his lap. 

Regulus knew before pushing himself up that Barty was in a mirrored image on his other side. The gold stag pressed into his thigh from his pocket a bit painfully. He reached down to touch it.  

Both of his friends looked up at him as he moved. 

“Afternoon, princess,” Barty said quietly, and a short-lived wave of relief washed over him. His arm was wrapped in a tight bandage, he noted, but Barty was speaking to him as if everything were normal, at least. 

“What time is it?” Regulus asked, feeling around for his wand. He had a pounding headache, and his thoughts felt sluggish, his movements sloppy. Evan leaned down off the bed, grabbing something off the floor.

“About eight pm,” he answered, studying him intently as he passed him his wand.

“Eight pm?” Regulus asked, confusion setting in. It’d been just a bit after supper when he’d returned to The Room. It couldn’t have possibly been such little time unless…

Unless he’d slept through an entire day.

“I missed classes,” he realised, but Evan just shrugged. 

“I told Slughorn we were both sick. Barty took notes for us.”

Regulus looked over to Barty, who nodded in confirmation and tapped the parchment in front of him. “It wasn’t much, but we can go over it together at some point this week.”

Regulus nodded his 'thanks', but he remained silent. What could he say? There was no excuse or explanation he could give for what happened. 

It was embarrassing. It was so embarrassing…

Evan didn’t know what he was getting into when he became his friend. Neither of them did. 

“I’m okay now,” he settled on saying finally, staring at his lap still covered in blankets. They’d shoved two of their beds together, it seemed. With all the curtains drawn around them, it felt like a blanket fort they were all sitting in. He waited for them to make fun of him or maybe just admit they weren't sure about being friends anymore after what they'd seen.

Sirius had wanted to make a blanket fort when we were kids, he remembered suddenly. They’d only managed to prop up a couple of his sheets to lay under before Kreacher made them take it down for bedtime. They never got the chance to try again before Sirius headed off to Hogwarts.

As the silence stretched, Regulus forced himself to look up. Evan and Barty glanced at each other, making Regulus' face heat. He hated when they did that—communicated without words, that was. In particular about him. He knew lots of people did it, he just…

He wished they'd just say it to his face.

“Reg, you know how much we care about you, right?” Evan said matter-of-factly, eyes serious when Regulus glanced at him in surprise. “I know we don’t say it much, but we do. This is our family. You’re our family.”

Regulus nodded, but the words just echoed around his ears, not really sinking in. His body started to shiver again in anticipation of the 'but.' He tugged the blankets a bit higher over himself. 

Barty nodded his head enthusiastically. “Honestly—think about all the times I’ve lost it, but you guys still are around. It’s not a big deal, not in the way I know you are thinking it is. We don’t want you to feel embarrassed or worried or anything.”

Regulus would argue it was a very big deal. He didn’t say anything, though. He looked back down to the blanket, worrying his lip and allowing silence to fill the space between them. 

“You are going to have to say something, Reg, because I’m not letting this slide," Evan said suddenly. "You scared the shit out of me last night. You wouldn’t respond to me—you were just laying there crying like you couldn’t even hear me. And your arm—I didn’t know what to do. I knew we couldn’t get a professor—I knew we couldn’t involve your family—but I wanted to, Reg. I was so scared. You’re lucky that Barty was here because—because I was freaking out.”

Regulus' eyes flashed with worry. If his parents found out—or worse, if a professor or someone told them about what had been going on—they'd remove him from Hogwarts. His father would use the Imperius Curse to force him to stay hidden away in the house like a slave to prevent any further embarrassment. There was no way they'd accept this behaviour; no way in hell.

“It’s me, you, and Barty against the world, okay? So just help me out," Evan pleaded, his face open and genuine. “Let us help.”

Regulus ducked his head in guilt. “I don’t know what happened. I just—I got really upset. And I came here to deal with it,” he figured Evan could infer his meaning, “but then… but then I felt like I wasn’t really here anymore." His memory was all foggy, everything that happened after hooking up with James a blur. "I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Reg—I don’t care. Barty’s right, okay? I didn’t—I didn’t know that you were gay, but it’s fine. Obviously.” He was speaking quickly, his mouth moving at the same rate his brain was likely trying to process everything. He rambled on a bit longer, clearly taken aback, but his words were supportive, if a bit saccharine. Suddenly, he paused, his eyebrow furrowing in thought.

“But," Evan said, "have you seriously been hooking up with Potter? Because that’s…” he trailed off, looking pensive. “That’s kinda mental, to be honest. It seems more like something Barty would do—fuck his brother’s best friend for revenge or something.”

Regulus slouched further into the bed as Barty cackled. Two people knew he was gay. Two people knew about James, and the world was still spinning. If anything, it was more normal now than prior.

“It wasn’t for revenge,” he muttered once Barty calmed down.

Barty looked extremely proud of himself, while Evan just looked shocked. 

“James Potter…” he said, repeating it once again. Suddenly, it seemed to click. “Reg, what the hell?” he groaned.

“It wasn’t like I planned it!” Regulus defended himself.

"It's no matter," Barty said dismissively, leaning forward. “But what happened? Did he hurt you?”

“No," he groaned. "He didn’t do anything. He’s nice. He wanted to date me—he asked me last night.”

Barty cocked his head to the side. “And that sent you into a psychosis?” he questioned, his voice filled with doubt. 

Regulus shook his head 'no' again. “He said he loved me,” he admitted, feeling stupid. It sounded even worse out loud than it had in his head. 

Evan’s jaw dropped open. “James Potter loves you?”

“No!” Regulus tried to explain, huffing in frustration. This was all so stupid. He wanted to go back to sleep and forget about it. “He just said that.”

Evan and Barty glanced at each other again, exchanging confused looks.

“Was it a prank?” Barty asked. 

Regulus practically growled. “No! It wasn’t a prank—he said he loved me, and then I just fucking left.”

Barty slapped his palm to his forehead with a resounding smack, flopping onto his back dramatically and hitting the wood frame of the bed with an “ow!” Evan was a bit more contained but still quietly grumbled, “What the fuck, Reg?” to himself. Inside their bed-tent alcove, it felt safe, as if the real world couldn’t touch them. It made Regulus feel uncharacteristically calm despite the circumstances. That, or maybe he was just out of energy to care about his secrets all being put out on display. It was hard to tell. 

After taking a deep breath, Evan looked back up at him. “Okay, so just to clarify: you’ve been hooking up with James Potter, and last night he said that he loves you? And that led to... this?”

Regulus shook his head in frustration. Why weren’t any of his words working? “I didn’t hurt myself because of that. It just helps when I feel out of control. But it wasn’t because of him." Taking a deep breath, he tried to continue. “It was home. I mastered The Unforgiveables during the break—Rudolphus got me to practice them on a cat. And the Dark Lord is pleased about how I helped Lucius with getting new recruitments, and I just—I saw James, and I couldn’t tell him any of that. I’ve been lying to him. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t love me. He’s gonna be a fucking Auror and try to save the world. This whole thing's been a joke—I have no place with him.”

Barty slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position again to rejoin the conversation, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.  

“It is a bit complicated,” Evan said finally, “with your family and whatnot. But he’s been friends with your brother for a long time.”

Regulus shook his head in denial. “I’m not a good person, Evan. I tricked him.”

Evan’s face pinched as he thought. “But you do like him?”

Regulus pressed his lips together. He hadn’t even admitted it to himself. 

But yeah, he did. He liked him a lot. 

“Well, his loss,” Barty interjected. “You’re way hotter, and way richer, too.”

Evan gave him a deadpan look, probably silently communicating something with him. Or trying to, at least—Barty was ignoring him.

“Maybe he’d understand,” Evan suggested after a moment. “It’s not like those things define who you are, Reg. You don’t have a choice. You obviously feel really bad about everything. And besides, I know you.” There it was, for the second time in twenty-four hours, someone claiming to know him. “It’s not like you’re some great force of evil that’s out hurting people for fun. It took three fucking years for you to be able to even talk to me. You still act surprised when I ask you to hang out—"

“Honestly, I’m regretting it a bit,” he said petulantly, but Evan beamed at him.

“See! You’re even funny, on top of everything else.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, ignoring the bit of hope that formed in his chest. “It doesn’t matter now, I ended it,” he said, reminding himself more than anyone.

“Well, he’s a bit of a wanker, honestly. You’re probably better off. I think that seventh-year Ravenclaw Prefect is gay—maybe go for him,” Evan suggested. “I’m sure he’s better than a Marauder,” he said scornfully. 

Regulus didn’t bother arguing with him. He’d fucked it all up. James was gone. 

“Is there anything else going on?” Evan nodded his head towards his arm, and Regulus resisted the urge to hide it away again. 

“It just helps,” he said dumbly, feeling like he was talking to Kreacher again all over. “The break was… a lot.”

Barty tapped his knee thoughtfully. “Is there anything me and Ev can do to help? I know what you mean about feeling that way—out of control, that is. I take it out on other people, though, not myself.”

“You punch walls,” Evan pointed out. “That’s hurting yourself, too.”

“I’m not sure picking fights is going to solve my problems,” he muttered, praying they’d stop talking about this soon. Evan frowned, sending guilt seeping into Regulus' chest. He knew they were just trying to help. With a sigh, he forced himself to look up at them. “I wanted to see if you would work on duelling with me anyway,” he mentioned, trying to ignore the way Evan's face lit up hopefully like he was proud of Regulus for simply speaking or something. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, though, please,” he begged. 

Evan and Barty both nodded. “Sure, Reg, just—let’s duel next time, okay? We'll try that first and go from there. But promise me you’ll tell us if it gets worse, okay?”

Regulus nodded, biting his lip. That’d involve telling Evan how he was feeling. He wasn’t sure if he could do that. He could agree to try, though, at least. 

For Evan. He could try for Evan.

“Okay,” Evan said, looking pleased.“Well, we have a plan now, at least. Tomorrow, let’s scope out a place to practice and duel at, yeah?”

Regulus nodded. A plan was good. 

“So,” Barty said, shoving his books off the bed unceremoniously so they all fell on the floor with a bang. He flopped forward to lay on his stomach, resting his hands under his chin to look up at Regulus mischievously. “Back to Potter. I have to know—how big is he? Because he acts like he’s got the biggest fucking cock—"

“Barty!” Evan choked, throwing himself across the bed to hit him. He mostly landed on Regulus, who was still stretched out in the middle between the two. Barty laughed manically as he squirmed to try to get away from Evan’s attack, flailing as he fell off the bed suddenly with an ‘oomph!’.

Regulus found he didn’t mind being in such close contact with them. In fact, it was a bit reassuring to know he wouldn’t be totally touch-starved again with James out of his life. He wasn’t positive if he had started initiating more contact or if he had just given off some signal that made his friends more confident to do it, but it was a nice change in his life.

James confessed he loved me, and I fucking ran away from him. 

He flopped on the bed in dismay, lethargy overcoming him again.

He fucked everything up. 

He always fucked it up.

. . .

The next evening, Regulus was assigned to rounds with Lily again.

It was the full moon, unsurprisingly.

He had spent the day in bed, feigning sickness to Slughorn. Evan remained in the room adamantly as well, leaving Barty to try to save their educations on his own. Regulus had promised him he was fine to be alone, but Evan refused. He didn’t skive night patrol, although he’d been tempted. Evan deserved a break from babysitting him, he figured.

The holidays and his fight with James still hung over Regulus' head like a dark storm cloud. He missed James. He missed him the entire holidays and had longed to be with him. And then, when he finally got him back, he messed it all up.

What is fucking wrong with you? he asked himself for the hundredth time. He'd acted like a crazy person. There was no way for him to even so much as explain what had happened, let alone fix it.  

Her voice reached him before he saw her. “Sev, that’s not fair!” Lily was saying, her voice exasperated. Regulus paused, remaining hidden behind the corner. 

“How isn’t it fair? You hang out with whoever you want, how I feel doesn’t matter!”

“I don’t hang out with bigots who want you dead,” Lily snapped. “Mulciber is bad news. You’re better than him.” Her voice was tinged in desperation. 

“Well, I’m not,” Severus said petulantly. “And Black does want me dead. He tried—" His voice cut off suddenly. 

A beat passed. Then two. 

“He tried what, Sev?” Lily said, her voice gentle. 

More silence. Regulus guessed that Severus was probably hiding behind a curtain of hair the way he did whenever he was trying to become invisible. What had Sirius done to him? After a moment, Lily spoke again, her question remaining unanswered. 

“I am sorry about James and Sirius, I really am. They were horrible to you. But James saved your life last year! Do you always forget that? And this year has been better, hasn’t it? People can change,” she said optimistically. “You’re still my best friend, and I wouldn’t betray you. Please, just trust me when I say they are different now.”

“They’re different because they have you now!” he snapped, ire evident. “They hated me so much because James wanted you! That’s the only reason anything has changed—they think they won. And Black still hexes me any chance he gets! It’s not like they apologised to me, and they never will. We both know that they wouldn’t do that.”

“I told you, no one has me! If you must know, though, I did try to kiss James. On New Years.”

More silence. Regulus felt like he was about to throw up. Lily kissed James?

“You kissed him?” Severus said, voice quiet. He sounded about the same as Regulus was feeling.

“Tried to,” Lily corrected. “He rejected me—he said he’s been dating someone. So, no, it’s not just because someone has me. They changed." She let out a loud exhale. "I can ask them to apologise to you, though, if that’ll make things better.” 

“No, don’t do that,” Severus was quick to respond. 

More silence. 

“Look, Regulus is going to be here any second. Can we talk tomorrow? Maybe go for a walk at lunch? I don’t want to fight with you, but Mulciber and his gang are thugs. I don’t want you getting mixed in with them…”

Regulus waited a bit longer while they said their goodbyes. His mind whirled, his thoughts racing over what he had heard. 

James rejected Lily because he was dating someone?

James rejected Lily?

James was dating someone?

Did James reject Lily because of me?

That would be fucking absurd—Lily was perfect. Lily was beautiful and kind, and James had been chasing after her for years now. Why would he ever...

“Like you? Regulus, I love you,” James' voice broke through his consciousness, sad and determined.

Fuck. He really was a fucking idiot—James loved him. James had rejected Lily for him...

The realisation twisted his stomach, the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat. Regulus was going to be sick. James had rejected Lily for him, and he was with Rudolphus for most of the break. 

He was so stupid. How was he so fucking stupid?

Regulus resisted the urge to turn and run and instead shoved his anguish into the darkest corner of his mind. He could hear footsteps moving towards him, and knew he didn't have time to hide. He would have to deal with that later.

When he crossed paths with Severus, the other boy barely glanced up. He was hidden behind his hair as Regulus had imagined, his shoulders hunched forward as he scuttled past.  

Regulus didn’t have time to think about anything else before he reached Lily. She looked sad—her bottom lip pouted, and the corners of her mouth turned downwards. Somehow, Severus was her best friend—that awkward boy who couldn’t make a friend to save his life somehow was Lily Evans’ best friend.  

There was no real explanation for it. 

“I’m sorry about the train,” Regulus apologised as soon as he reached her. She looked up at him, confused, and then gave him an uncaring smile.

“I was wondering about that,” she said off-handedly. 

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I just—it’s hard. After the holidays. Adjusting to being back." He stumbled over his words. "I wasn’t myself,” he explained pathetically. Weren't you? his mind accused. Who he was at home, was that him? Or was he the person who apologised to a Muggleborn for ignoring her and felt bad for the things he had to do? 

James chose me over Lily, he remembered, his heart panging. He chose me. 

Lily looked sad again. It wasn’t about Severus anymore, though, he knew.

“Is it bad?” she asked, and Regulus felt his heart freeze. He didn’t lie, however. He simply nodded.

I t was bad. It was very bad at home. 

She seemed to understand. “I forgive you, of course. I know... well, I don’t know how having a home like yours would feel. But I know how much it would affect you. And I don’t want to make that any harder than it already is.”

He thought about Severus again, and how bruised he was after every summer. Maybe she did understand how much it could affect a person. 

“I wasn’t trying to listen,” he said abashedly. “But I’m sorry you and Severus were fighting,”

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Not without reason, either. Collegiality didn’t amount to blind trust; at the end of the day, Regulus was the same as Mulciber to her. He was one of the future Death Eaters that Lily knew to avoid at the heart of things, the same type of person she wanted Severus to steer clear of. 

It suddenly felt very important that she knew he wasn’t like them. It wasn’t all a lie, the person he’d shown James. He was trying to be a good person. He had changed.

“It’s not like those things are who are you, Reg. You don’t have a choice.”  

Evan was right. That wasn’t him.

This was him.

Regulus motioned for her to follow him around the corner, away from the portraits. 

“The Dark Lord was looking for recruitments before the break,” he whispered, hating the way her eyes widened in fear because of him. “I had to provide the names of students who may be interested. I considered Severus, but I didn’t mention him. I thought you probably wouldn’t have wanted me to do that.”

Lily was looking at him as if his skin had started to melt off of his skull. “You provided…” she trailed off, eyes widening in realisation. “Who, Regulus? Who asked you to do that?”

He could see the wheels turning in her head, but he shook his own. “That’s not important, Lily. I’m not Marked or anything. It’s just…I wanted you to know. That I didn’t give his name. And if I can help, I’ll try to keep him out of it. As much as I can.”

Lily still looked a bit horrified, but she hadn’t run. He had all but confessed to working with the Dark Lord, but she stayed by him anyway. Gryffindors, he couldn't help but think incredulously. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as she thought.

“For me?” she asked after a moment. “You didn’t give Sev’s name because of me?”

Regulus nodded. He was glad she understood. “I think Severus would’ve liked it if I had suggested him. With Mulciber, everyone’s finally leaving him alone." She looked furious at the idea. Regulus bit his lip, feeling a bit aggrieved on Severus' behalf. "Wouldn’t you want a break from it all if you were him?" he asked. "From getting bullied every day?”  

“Not if it meant wanting my best friend dead,” she said with venom. Regulus thought of Barty, who simply supported the Dark Lord because his father was a figurehead for the light. 

“It’s a bit hard to believe the good side is good, if they constantly are hurting you,” he pointed out. Sirius and James hadn't exactly been great advertising for the cause, especially not to Severus. 

“I don’t need justification for his actions,” Lily snapped, but Regulus could tell his words hit home with her. 

“Of course not. I know there isn’t a good excuse,” he agreed. “And if he really wants to do it, I can’t stop him. But I can try to intervene as much as I can,” he offered, “if you want me to.”

Lily still looked at him suspiciously. “Why?” she asked. 

He met her gaze, dropping his mask and trying to let his honest emotions seep through. 

“Because he’s your friend, and—and you’re my friend.”

My friend.

A Muggleborn. 

Chapter Text

The morning following his conversation with Sirius, James had started the day determined. Sirius’ advice had filled him with confidence—he was going to fix things and get Regulus back.

Regulus never showed up to any meals, however, and frequently checking The Map showed him to be completely stagnant in his dorms. James caught Sirius staring at The Map a few times as well, a deep crease between his eyebrows. They left it out on top of their trunks in silent agreement with one another. 

The next day passed by in the same manner, and in the evening, it was the full moon. Worry began to live in his stomach at Regulus’ reclusiveness, but he reassured himself that at least Evan was nearby the entire time. 

Thursday, Regulus’ dot finally left the Slytherin dorms and attended classes again, but he stayed away from the Great Hall at mealtimes and remained out of sight. James found relief in the fact he was at least moving again, even if he was avoiding him. 

Finally, Friday night showed his dot making its way to the seventh floor. 

“I gotta go,” he excused himself abruptly, sprinting from the dorm and throwing The Map onto his bed where he’d been studying it. Sirius threw his Invisibility Cloak at him on his way out the door, nodding at him almost imperceptively. 

They’d spent more time discussing Regulus and their relationship over the week. He explained about The Room they’d found and how they’d ended up connecting through it. Sirius listened in quiet revere, hanging onto every word. He’d been filled with an anxious energy all week, similar to James, each day passing by growing more obsessive over tracking his brother.

It wasn’t about James’ relationship with Regulus, though—it was about his own with his brother. He missed him. James realised he was desperate for their plan to work, if only for a chance to get Regulus back. 

James slowed from a sprint once he reached the seventh floor, forcing his breathing to calm down before he entered the room. Regulus was sitting primly on the couch, eyes flashing up in surprise as James closed the door behind him.

“How do you always find me?” he asked, his eyebrows pushed together quizzically. When his eyes found him, James had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He looked better than he had on Monday, like he’d finally gotten a few good night’s rest.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he lied smoothly. “I just had a feeling.”

It was a bad lie, but Regulus seemed to let it go as he glanced down at his hands after a moment. “You wanted to see me again?” he asked, hesitant.

James nodded, making his way to the couch to sit down next to him. He left a respectable distance so Regulus wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. “Yeah, I’ve been looking for you. You haven’t been around, though,” he said softly.

Regulus nodded, eyes trained on the ground. He looks so sad, James thought, his heart hurting.

“I wasn’t feeling great,” he admitted.

James bit his lip worriedly. “Because of me?”

Regulus shook his head. “No, not you. Just…from being home.”

Home. James felt his shoulders rise at the reminder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, but," Regulus pressed his lips together and shrugged, “I will. You deserve an explanation, at least.” James' leg bounced as he shifted in anticipation for Regulus to begin. “I do like you, James. A lot. I—I didn’t expect you’d ever feel the same way about me, too. I didn’t mean what I said—I just sort of panicked.”

James nodded. He’d figured that much. Well, Sirius had, at least. 

“It’s just…you’re so good. And I don’t know how much you know about my family; a lot, I reckon, since you and Sirius have been friends for so long. But I’m not a good person. I’m not like you. And I’m not like Sirius either. I’m not brave, or righteous. I just want to get by.”

James nodded again. “That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

"It’s more complicated than that," he disagreed. “I was raised differently than Sirius; he was going to be Lord one day, I was just going to be a soldier. I know more Dark Arts than he could even dream of. I was—I am, promised to him. The Dark Lord, I mean. I made a list of names for Lucius when he came to Hogsmeade that time and arranged meetings for him with potential recruits for the Dark Lord. ”

James' stomach churned, but he forced himself to keep a straight face. He wasn’t turning away from Regulus; he wasn’t going to flinch from him. Regulus seemed to realise his determination and continued more desperately. 

“There's more—I killed a cat. Sirius was right about that, too; he’s always fucking right. They wanted me to learn the Unforgiveables, so I had to—I had to practice. On it. I practised on it.” Regulus dropped his gaze to his lap, his hands shaking by his knees. “I want to be a good person. And I’m trying, I really am. But I’m not. And with Sirius gone, my parents are already talking again about heirs, which means betrothals. And their plans for me... I don’t have a choice in any of this. I can’t let you get involved with me.”

Regulus’ face was tilted downward, so his hair hid his face away completely, his shoulders hunched, and his arms wrapped around his stomach. James shook his head sympathetically, even though he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t wrap his head around it. It had been the Christmas holidays, for Merlin’s sake. 

“Run away,” he begged. “You can live with me. My mum has wanted that since Sirius came. We can help you.”  

“I can’t,” Regulus said, his voice cracking. He looked up at him finally, eyes glistening. “They won’t let me.”

“Sirius—"

“It was different with Sirius,” Regulus argued, shoulders shuddering as he tried to breathe. “He was almost of age and made it clear they couldn't control him. It isn’t the same with me; they like that I’m compliant and easy—” 

“We can help you. We’ll protect you.“

“You can’t,” Regulus said desperately, voice cracking. “You don’t understand—there’s no protecting me from them. The Blacks’ investments pay for more than half of the Aurors’ retirement funds and pensions. My dad is a personal friend of half of the Wizengamot—he has lunches with them regularly! Portraits everywhere report to him. After Sirius left, he put me under the Imperius Curse for a week just to show me he could. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything! I was completely helpless! He could do it again, and then I really wouldn’t have a choice! I’m only fifteen, I’m not of age—the Aurors would drag me back home, and they’d just force me to do whatever they want! They’d take me out of Hogwarts—they’d completely cut me off and just hide me behind the wards. I—I can’t—”

James had to squeeze his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out to him. Regulus was properly panicking now, his breaths rapid and shallow and his body trembling with anxiety.

“I can’t leave, James,” he repeated desperately, face wet with tears.

Regulus turned away from him, putting up a barrier with his words and body as if to keep himself safe within a bubble. With slow deliberation, James raised his hands, resting them onto each of Regulus’ shoulders and pulling him so he was forced to face him directly.

“It’s okay,” he promised, his own voice sounding wet and devastated. “It’s going to be okay. You just need to keep hanging on.”

Regulus shook his head, lower lip trembling and eyes lowered. “It’s not, though—how could it possibly be okay?”

“I’ll figure it out!” James half-cried, convinced it was the truth. There was a way; there had to be a way. James pulled him into a proper hug as he started crying fully, his entire body shaking. “I love you,” he said seriously, cradling Regulus' head against his neck with one hand.

“I’ve done bad things—I’m going to have to do even more.”

He held Regulus tighter as if squeezing him might reduce the tremors that wracked his body. James breathed him in greedily. “It’s okay; whatever they’ve made you do, it’s okay.”

“I should’ve said no,” Regulus cried then, his tears making James’ collar and the side of his neck wet. “I’m sorry,”

James shook his head. They used the Imperius Curse on him, they abused and threatened him. It wasn’t his fault. “It’s okay, Reg, I forgive you if it’s what you need, but you don’t need to apologise. Whatever you had to do to stay safe, it’s okay.”

“I’ll say no next time,” Regulus sniffed, breath hitching again. “I won’t—I won’t do it again.”

James just readjusted his grip, dragging the smaller boy with him to lean into the couch more. “It’s okay,” he promised gently, kissing the crown of his head. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Regulus nodded, sniffing again against his chest. James just pulled him tighter, pressing his cheek against his temple.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, voice low. His face was wet with tears, but his voice sounded steady. He could be strong for Regulus. He could be what he needed. 

Minutes passed by, but he didn’t loosen his hold. Not until Regulus became more slack in his arms, not until his breath quieted and his sobs ceased. Even then, James held on. Slowly, he ran his fingers through his hair, gently pushing off wet strands that’d gathered across his forehead and temples.

“We don’t have to talk,” James offered once it was quiet. “But can I just hold you?”

Regulus nodded, slowly pulling back from James' arms. His hair was mussed and tangled, his face blotchy and shiny. His eyes, though—red and his eyelashes clumped—were utterly devoid of emotion. They looked lifeless, as if Regulus had checked out and left an empty body behind in his place.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, just the slightest amount of pain seeping through his mask of indifference.

James shook his head, readjusting them so they could lie together on the couch. He pulled Regulus' head down against his chest, clutching him as if it'd keep him safe. As if he could transfer security and love through his embrace. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.”

James didn’t think Regulus fell asleep, but he went silent in his arms, body tangled against his own. James pulled a blanket over them, entrapping their heat. Regulus was shaking in that familiar way only time and warmth seemed to be able to quell. The way that didn't stem from coldness. He tightened his hold, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Regulus’ chest against his own.

What could he do? How could he get Regulus out?

None of this happened with Sirius. He showed up at their doorstep, and that was the end of it. Sirius’ parents could’ve called the Aurors, he realised. They could’ve tried to force the runaway to return home, but they didn’t. Sirius was seventeen now, but during the summer, he was still legally their ward. What if they had tried to then? What would have happened?

How much worse would it have been for him after running away in that house? 

James needed his parents' help. There had to be something they could do.

“I can hear you thinking,” Regulus' voice broke through his train of thoughts suddenly, head still resting unmoving on his chest. 

James absent-mindedly started trying to sort out his dark locks, brushing out the tangles and styling them back to their normal perfection. “I’m not,” he denied softly, gently working out an extra knotted section. 

“I can hear you,” Regulus said, voice still quiet but petulant and closer to his normal demeanour. James was relieved to hear him feeling a bit better. 

“My parents will help,” he said instead of arguing further. 

Regulus sighed. Very slowly, he arched his neck so his face turned up to look at James. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry; James wasn’t sure how much time had passed, to be honest, but Regulus appeared a lot more settled. There was a spark back; he was back. 

“They can’t,” Regulus said, giving him a sharp glance as he opened his mouth to argue. “Please, James—just listen. Your parents can’t kidnap me, and that’s what it would be. I’m fifteen.”

“If you’d just consider—"

“I’ve considered. And getting your parents involved would just make things worse, okay? Getting removed from Hogwarts, getting locked up in a cellar, or just being held under the Imperius Curse are very real scenarios which will happen if they catch wind of anyone sniffing around me. I’ll be fine, I know you are worried, but I will be okay. There’s nothing you can do—my family is destabilising the entire Ministry; keeping their Heir safe isn’t exactly rocket science compared to that. I just have to behave, and they'll leave me alone.”

James stiffened, forcing himself to stop and think before he responded. His family was what? Destabilising the Ministry was terrorism; its collapse would leave thousands vulnerable and prone to Dark Wizard attacks. That was the sort of information Regulus should be passing onto the Aurors; it could save lives and maybe change the future of the war. Except…

Except the Aurors weren’t on his side. Regulus was on the other side of the war; he was on his family’s side, opposite James. He was on You-Know-Who’s side.

Regulus fell silent, realising he had said too much.

James had never considered the possibility of Regulus truly being on the wrong side, of him being a Death Eater follower, or complicit in Voldemort's plans. It was what Sirius had been trying to warn him about. It wasn’t just the Dark Arts that Regulus was involved in; he was allied with the Dark Lord. "I am promised to him," Regulus had said.

"I've done bad things—I’m going to have to do even more." Regulus wasn’t being dramatic. He was already involved in recruitment and who knew what else. He was warning James: he had no plans of leaving his home or family; he didn't even think it was possible.

“Why were you so upset earlier?” James asked suddenly, wincing at how harsh it sounded. He had to know, though. He was looking at this entire thing wrong, he realised quite suddenly. James had thought about being an Auror in an abstract sort of way. Graduation still felt a long time away. The attacks and raids in the news articles made him upset and want to help, but he wasn’t involved in the war. Not personally. Not yet.

Regulus was. And he was on the side James wanted to defeat. The wrong side.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like the truth,” Regulus said after a moment. 

“Is that all? Because it would upset me? Or because that stuff upsets you, too?”

Are you a bad person? Or are you just forced to do bad things?

A few moments passed while Regulus thought. James prayed to Merlin he hadn’t been wrong about Regulus—that the sweet, shy boy who blushed when he was complimented or bit his lip when he felt unsure wasn’t a monster. 

“I’ve been having second thoughts,” he admitted after a moment, voice trembling, “about my role in the war, but I can’t get out of it.”

“What about when you are seventeen?” James asked, trying not to sound too keyed up. “What about when you are of age and can leave? If I don’t figure out how to get you out before then, I mean. Would you leave then?”

Regulus looked at him, brow furrowed. “It’s not that simple—a lot can happen before then.”

“Just humour me,” James insisted, heart pounding. “How you feel now—if you were seventeen and could leave without all those complications you said, would you?”

Regulus froze, looking petrified for a moment. His eyes skirted past James' face as if assessing quickly if they were truly alone in the room. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice shaky, “but it doesn’t matter."

“It does matter, Reg, it’s all that matters!” James interrupted. “Just two years—a year and a half, really—is all you have to get through, and then you can escape. You can be with me and Sirius and my parents; everything will be okay. And that’s the worst-case scenario if we can’t work something out before then. All that matters is what you want.”

Regulus looked uncertain. “A year and a half is a long time. I will be fine, I’m always fine, but James—you might not be. I’m not…" he took a deep breath. "I’m not good. What if I have to get married? What if my cousins make me participate in a raid, or an attack, or—or something! There’s going to be something. Something you won’t want me after... even if it’s just me. Maybe you just will realise it’s not me you want anymore after a while.“

"If he ever were in trouble, truly, do you think possibly having to face an ex might make things more difficult?" his dad’s voice rang through his head. 

Fuck, James realised. His parents were right.

“Regulus, I love you. I want to be with you, now more than ever, but we have to agree to something, okay?” he stated firmly. “No matter what happens with you and me, you can always go to Sirius or my parents for help. No matter what. Can you promise me you understand that? I can’t let my feelings be the thing that hurts you in the end. Even if we were to break up, I would want you to reach out to them for help.”

Regulus smiled sadly. “You could never hurt me.” 

He nodded. “I never want to. So promise me, Reg, please? Promise me that no matter what, you’ll go to them if you need. Even if we aren’t together.”

Regulus' face contorted in uncertainty, but he nodded after a moment in agreement. James couldn’t help but kiss his forehead in gratefulness. Regulus would be okay. No matter what, he’d be okay. He didn’t doom him with his own selfish wants. 

“For the record, though,” James said, feeling it was important to acknowledge, especially with his argument with his parents fresh in his mind again. “I’m not planning on leaving you, or hurting you, or anything like that. I want you in my life. I want to be with you. And all those things that might happen—all those 'what ifs' you are worried about—we’ll deal with them together if they come up, okay? You aren’t alone anymore.”

Regulus looked like he might cry again, so James pulled him against his chest in a tender hug. 

He had him back. For real, this time. 

. . .

“I told Sirius,” James admitted in the early morning. They’d slept together on the couch, waking up to the low lights of a dying fire. Regulus looked up to him in surprise.

They were lying on the carpet on the ground now. It was thick and soft, but James had definitely hurt his shoulder when he’d fallen off the couch in the midst of a morning snog. It didn’t divert them from their activity at all—he hadn’t even noticed the pain until a bit later on when they’d finished.

He wondered if the room would conjure a bed for them if they tried. Not for sex-sex, but just to sleep together sometimes, like they had last night. James didn’t feel the desperate need to be together more than they were, not the way Regulus seemed to sometimes. Everything they’d done was perfect to him, and they had all the time in the world now, after all.   

It was official: Regulus Black was his boyfriend.  

He wanted to yell it from the rooftops, but laying on the floor with him would have to do for now. Their legs were tangled together, and James had a loose arm thrown over his waist, his other arm under Regulus’ head as a pillow. It’d gone numb a bit ago, but he ignored it. Hooking up was great, but cuddling together afterwards was his highlight. It felt like something more than want: Regulus needed it, his instincts told him, and he was happy to follow them. He felt like he needed it, too.

“What—" Regulus cleared his throat, his voice croaky and weak. “What did he say?” he tried again.

James gave him a small smile. “He’s okay with it, overall. He got a bit protective, but he’s turned over a new leaf recently.”

Regulus huffed. The warm glow from the embers created a halo around his curls and high cheekbones as he lay on his side facing James. “'Course he was protective,” he muttered, his frown deepening the more he thought about it. James let out a bark of laughter when he realised what Regulus was so upset about. 

“Not protective about me, about you,” he explained gleefully, enjoying the look of confusion that crossed Reg’s face. 

“I don’t think so,” he denied. “He thinks I’m—" He paused, correcting himself quickly. "He’s worried for you. You read the situation wrong.”

James smirked and shook his head. “Nope. He even yelled about you still being just a baby at one point.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Regulus argued. “He barely has spoken to me in years.”

James felt sad for Sirius then. It was his own fault, maybe, that Regulus didn’t know the hours he had spent fretting over leaving him behind or the night he spent by his side as Padfoot in the Hospital Wing. That he didn’t know how much Sirius did care about him.

Then again, Sirius didn’t know how much Regulus cared about him either.  

“I told my parents, too,” he admitted after a moment. 

Regulus looked at him wide-eyed. “You what?”

He shrugged. “Well, I wanted to tell them I was interested in boys anyways and…it made sense to do it at the same time.”

Regulus looked properly stunned for a moment. “That feels like a big deal,” he commented. 

James shrugged. “You’re kind of a big deal to me,” he tried to explain. It was a big step, he agreed. Not telling them was hardly an option in his mind, however. He was certain about Regulus. He had been during the break, and he was now. It hadn’t even been a decision he made, really, but just a part of honouring his commitment to him. 

“Were they mad?” Regulus asked. 

James shook his head. “No, they just were worried. They thought I was selfish, maybe, for putting my feelings first instead of just trying to help you. They love you already, I think, just because they love Sirius so much.”

Regulus went silent for a while. It was a bit overwhelming to hear about a family of people who’d been trying to protect you from afar, he was sure. Especially for Regulus. 

“Barty and Evan know,” he said after a minute, and James felt his jaw drop a little. Regulus told people about me? Worry gnawed at him, even though Regulus looked unconcerned. He didn’t trust they’d react well or accept it, even if Regulus never said anything but good things about them. They were unfriendly and a bit scary, and Barty especially unhinged.

He’d seen Barty attack people. He’d heard about the people the Rosiers had been rumoured to kill and mutilate. They weren’t like his friends or his family; they weren’t warm or understanding people. Not all wizards and witches were accepting of gay relationships; it could be dangerous for the wrong people to know. 

As if sensing his worry, Regulus quickly elaborated. “They are fine with it. With me being gay, that is. I didn’t even tell them, really: Barty figured it out on his own. He’s too clever—you can’t hide things from him. He was worried about me, though, so he told Evan. He thought you had something to do with why I was so upset.”

James frowned, pulling Regulus closer to him. He didn’t like to hear about how worried Regulus’ friends were about him or think about the fact his dot hadn’t moved more than a couple of feet for two whole days on The Map after the break. He felt like it was more serious than Regulus was letting on. 

James was glad, he supposed then, that Regulus' friends were looking out for him when he couldn’t. Evan hadn’t moved those entire two days either. It was the kind of unwavering loyalty he and the Marauders had for one another. 

“The way you talk about them is so different from how I’ve seen them. I’d like to get to know them better if you’d be okay with that. They are your best friends, after all.” James would like Regulus to hang out with his friends, too. It might be hard to orchestrate in secret, but he wanted his partner and friends to get along. 

He already did, James realised. Regulus was friends with Remus through their Prefect duties, and Lily as well. Obviously, he and Sirius had a history as brothers, so it was only Peter and Marlene really that was left. 

Was it a coincidence, or had Regulus made more of an effort with everyone because of him? James felt overwhelmed at the idea of someone doing that. He kissed him fondly, Regulus’ cheeks flushing.

“It’d be hard to arrange,” Regulus said uncertainly. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

James shrugged. He wasn’t going to give up on the idea so easily. He wanted his partner and friends to all hangout, but above all, he wanted Regulus and Sirius to hang out. He’d work something out, he was sure. 

But they had time. Regulus was with him now, officially. Everything he had to deal with—his parents, their expectations, his duties to You-Know-Who—they were in it together now. He would find a way to get him out, and until then, Regulus would be safe at Hogwarts with him. 

Regulus was walking away. As soon as it was possible, he’d be out of his family's control. 

There were three months until the next break. 

James would figure it out. 

Chapter Text

He and James were official.

Regulus hadn’t expected them to ever talk again, let alone end up together, but he was more than happy with the outcome, to say the least. James was...

James was completely unbelievable. No human could be so good, and yet here he was. He didn’t run away—he didn’t so much as flinch as Regulus showed his true self. He stayed by his side, just like he had promised. It felt overwhelming to have caught the attention of someone so perfect, a bit like realising you were in a dream. 

James wasn’t the only thing that felt surreal. Regulus was a blood traitor now, the same as Sirius. Well, on his way there. Even just admitting to his treacherous thoughts out loud had been terrifying; anything less than one hundred percent loyalty could be seen as traitorous behaviour in his world. 

The thing was, Regulus still doubted he’d get the chance to leave. Not with the way his life was going. But James was so excited—he was so sure that it would work out that it gave him a little glimmer of hope. He let himself get lost in it, lost in the fantasy of having some sort of control over his own life.

There was so much that could go wrong. Rudolphus alone hung over his shoulders like a shadow of guilt, but he would say 'no' next time. He’d get stronger and remove him from his life. It wouldn’t happen again—he’d be good to James. He’d be the best partner James could dream of. And he’d leave the war and his destiny to be some pawn in it.

It might hurt to hope. But he figured it was worth it—it was going to hurt anyway. 

James tried to convince Regulus to spend the day with him in The Room after they’d woken up, but Regulus declined. He wanted to—he really, really wanted to—but he’d promised Evan and Barty they’d start duelling practice today, and he was anxious to get started. 

It was past six am, so Regulus didn’t need to worry about getting caught during curfew on his way back to his dorms. James insisted on escorting him back to the dungeons, however, so he was walking somewhere beside him, his Invisibility Cloak hiding him from sight like a bit of a weirdo. 

It was endearing as can be. 

Turning the corner on the stairwell revealed Dorcas on the other side of the platform. She threw her hands up in the air as she noticed him.

“Regulus Black!” she yelled, stalking over to him. He froze, feeling the slightest adjustment in the air beside him as James got out of her path of fury. He hoped he had the good sense to return to his dormitory now. 

“Where have you been?” she demanded when she finally reached him, crossing her arms over her chest angrily. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt he hadn’t seen before; it was black and slightly ripped with some Muggle band on the front. Her legs were covered in plaid pyjamas and, on her feet, some fluffy slippers. 

She looked like she had just rolled out of bed, all except the alertness in her eyes.

“Reading,” he said dumbly, brain stalling. He left the dorm all the time, sometimes overnight, especially over the last term since he’d started hooking up with James. How did Dorcas even know he’d been out, though, given she stayed in the girl’s room?

“Well, why didn’t you tell Evan that? He’s been fucking losing it all night! He even dragged Pandora out of bed to help look for you. He made Barty figure out their riddle and broke into Ravenclaw at four am.”

Regulus felt his stomach drop, guilt filling him. Fuck. He hadn’t told Evan he was staying out last night, just that he was going for a walk. He hadn’t foreseen James showing up, of course. He had just wanted to spend a bit of time in The Room away from prying eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Dorcas pulled a torn-up piece of parchment out of her pocket, hastily writing into it. “Barty charmed some paper for us to communicate,” she explained as she wrote, “since he figured splitting up would let us cover more ground.”

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said guiltily. 

Dorcas’ dark eyes assessed him momentarily before rolling again. “It’s fine, Reg. I’m not gonna get mad at you for being your odd little self. Evan’s just, well, you know how Evan gets. We told him to let it go, but he wouldn’t drop it. Barty wouldn’t let him go out looking until three, at least, so it’s not like we were actually out here all night.”

“I was in the room beside her, ten feet away, and I didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t know.” 

He bit his lip, looking to the ground. Evan was a bit overbearing sometimes, but it wasn’t without reason. And Regulus had already scared him once that week. 

“Do you know where he is?” he asked, nodding to the parchment. Hopefully, James was gone by now. 

Dorcas nodded. “He’ll meet us at the common room in a bit, but let’s swing by the Great Hall for some breakfast first, yeah? I’m starving. I had to keep running to avoid getting caught—McGonagall’s got a stride on her, did you know that?”

Dorcas chatted animatedly as they walked. Regulus found himself studying her; she seemed…happier than normal. A bit peppier, even after being woken up at three am. 

He didn’t question it; it was nice to see at least one of his friends thriving, honestly. Whatever it was that put her in this mood, he was happy for her.

. . .

Evan had ended up booking out one of the empty classrooms in the dungeons from Slughorn for duelling practice, who was thrilled to hear they were thinking of creating a club. The club at the moment, of course, was just themselves and Barty, but it provided them a safe space to practice away from any curious ears. 

“You need to work on your non-verbal casting,” Evan was scolding him from across the room. 

Regulus was pretty sure Rudolphus had commented the same several times over the break. He truly was awful at it, but it was an advanced skill. Hard to learn in general, let alone when your brain stopped computing for more than half of the tutoring sessions. 

It was the evening after he and James rekindled things. He was pretty sure that was why Evan was actually hurting him a bit, still pissed that he had him up all night worrying. 

It had been a very long afternoon of talking. Neither of his friends were super pleased he’d started dating James, but with just a bit of grumbling, they let it go. Old habits died hard, after all. Barty was just doing it for the drama—he clearly held no issues with it when it’d been a ‘secret.’ Evan though… Evan, Regulus wasn’t so sure about. He actually sounded like he hated James, more than just on principle. 

Regulus apologised several times. It didn’t seem to make a difference though: he was pissed.

“Okay, up. Try again.”

Evan was the most proficient dueller he knew. Regulus was sure he could defeat Rudolphus were they to face off, which made him the best teacher he could ask for right now. Ignoring his screaming muscles, Regulus pushed himself up from the floor. 

Evan was barely sweating. He’d taken his cloak and tie off, so he was just in his button-up, cuffs rolled up to his elbows. He looked completely collected still, his broad frame and muscles making him a bit like an actual professor. Regulus felt like a knobby-kneed child compared to him at the moment, but he wasn’t going to give up. This was the only way that he would learn.

Giving him a second to brace himself, Evan very obviously sent a stunner towards him. Keeping his mouth clamped shut, Regulus focused on the shield he wanted to erect while flicking his wand. The red light redirected in front of him harmlessly, a purple shimmer appearing in the air where it had ricocheted. 

Evan didn’t move, letting him send an attack next. Focusing on Evan’s body flipping through the air, Regulus swished precisely, thrilled when a purple jet of light shot from his wand toward Evan. He cast it aside easily but gave him a thumbs up.

“Good! That was good, Regulus—you got it!”

Regulus felt a smile break out on his face despite himself. He always was a sucker for praise. 

Barty clapped enthusiastically, sitting cross-legged against the wall where he’d spent the evening scratching away on a piece of parchment. The massive course load he’d committed himself to took up most of his time, but he hadn’t lost steam as the months passed. He was as zealous as when he first started his vendetta. 

Regulus was relieved when Evan started collecting his items, signalling the end of their session. He was sore and exhausted; if another spell caught him, he'd likely collapse. 

“Okay, I have an idea, but I don’t want anyone jumping at my throat for it,” Evan said as they joined Barty on the floor. Regulus looked at him in question. 

“If we might be changing our plans, there’s a good chance we are going to have to lie about it at some point. And not just lie, really lie. No one in my family is a Legilimens, but I know Walburga is, and of course, the Dark Lord. Who knows which other recruiters may be too? I really think we need to work on our Occlumency if we don’t want to, well, die,” Evan said bluntly. 

Barty nodded but looked unconcerned. He wasn’t disappointed they weren’t planning on being Death Eaters anymore when they broke it to him, but he was a bit miffed, to say the least. He made it clear as long as they were just running and not doing something idiotic like joining the Aurors, he’d support them, however. 

Regulus was pretty sure he was actually a bit disappointed. 

“We need to figure out how to practice our shields and deception—we can’t leave our minds defenceless. Especially now.”

Regulus' Occlumency was good—he had managed to survive in a house with his mother and maintain secrets for a decade and a half now. Good wasn’t good enough to ensure his survival against people like the Dark Lord, though. Evan was right. 

“I know of a Legilimens, who isn’t exactly spoken for yet,” Evan continued. 

Regulus frowned, waiting for him to continue. It’s easiest to practice Occlumency, of course, when you have a Legilimens trying to penetrate your thoughts, but it was a lot of trust to place in someone, as well. 

Especially when no one from the light or dark side could know of their plans.

“It’s Severus,” Evan said finally, causing a dramatic gasp from Barty.

“No!” he cried indignantly. “He’s the worst,” he argued. 

Evan rolled his eyes and ignored him. “Reg?” he asked calmly.

Regulus considered, automatically thinking of Lily. He didn’t hate Severus. He felt sort of bad for him, honestly. But he wasn’t sure they could trust him—he highly doubted it, actually. “How do you know he’s a Legilimens?” he questioned, contemplating deeply. 

“Over the break, he stayed behind, too. Once, when I was in the common room with Violet, I felt someone brushing up against my shields, and he was the only one there. It isn’t ideal, but at least we could get a bit of hands-on practice once in a while. And I doubt he’s powerful enough to overcome us completely anyway, so it wouldn’t be overly risky. We’re all at least a bit practised in it.”

Regulus bit his lip. The way Lucius spoke before the break made him worried he had less time than he had planned before he’d be introduced to the ranks. Even just Walburga stumbling over the wrong bit of information in his head would be catastrophic.

“We can’t trust him,” Barty argued. “He’s been getting closer with Mulciber’s gang lately; if he finds out anything, it’s information he could use against you. Can’t we just practice ourselves?”

Severus is lonely, Regulus' mind supplied helpfully. 

“Unless you’ve been keeping something from us, none of us are Legilimens. We’d have to learn it on top of duelling and our coursework. And it’s very advanced magic; there’s a reason not everyone is out here doing it,” Evan pointed out. “We might not even be able to.”

“I think we can manipulate him,” Regulus said after a minute, plan forming. “He wants friends—he wants to be recognised and accepted. We could invite him duelling, pretend to like him…” The words felt awful on his tongue. “Frame everything we are doing as practice for the war. He doesn’t need to know the real reasons.”

“It would work,” Barty admitted after a moment. “Would it cause problems for you, though, Reg, with his status?”

He shook his head. “My parents might be annoyed, but he’s a powerful wizard. He’s top in his year for potions—Slughorn said he’s a prodigy. And he’s obviously interested in the Dark Arts; I think he could be an exception. He’s likely already on their radar to try to recruit, I’m sure.”

Unless Lily could stop him. Unless Lily and I, he corrected, could stop him. 

He had a better chance of intervening if they spent some time together anyway. 

“Okay,” Evan said, nodding his head. 

“Fine,” Barty sighed unenthusiastically. “Operation Snivellus, let’s go.”

. . . 

The rest of their evening had been spent running through their plan and making contingencies in case anything went south. They decided to invite Severus to their duelling room to join their ‘club’ on Sunday morning. Barty suggested eventually bringing Dorcas along, and Pandora too, if she was interested, to make it more realistic, but they would do that another week. 

It wasn’t very hard to find Severus. He was in the potion’s lab, dark hair hanging partially over his eyes as he stirred some bubbling concoction. It smelt rather good, honestly. 

Regulus wondered what it was. 

"Hey, Severus," Evan said casually. They’d all agreed that he should do the talking. Regulus was too broody and awkward, and Barty had made fun of Severus one too many times for 'niceness' to be anything but suspicious coming from him. Evan admitted to spending a bit of time chatting with Severus over the break since they were both stuck at Hogwarts as well, citing their amicability.

Severus glanced up in annoyance, putting the potion under a Stasis Charm with a quick flick of his wand. Wordlessly, Regulus noted with envy. Was it seriously just him who was having problems, or were Evan and Snape just powerful? 

He studied them, not offering a greeting, dark eyes suspicious. Regulus felt a presence brush along his mental shield—nonverbal Legilimency. Evan might’ve been right about this, Severus was obviously already quite advanced in the art. 

“We were going to practice some duelling, wanted to see if you’d come? We need a fourth,” Evan said smoothly. It was the perfect excuse.

“Wha—now?” Severus half sputtered, glancing down at his potion.

“Er—well, yeah. But we could wait a bit…if you need to wrap things up…” Evan said uncertainly. They wanted to get him in, but they couldn’t make it too obvious. 

“Why me? Why not Marcus or one of them?”

Regulus pulled his face into a scorn while Barty huffed out a laugh. “Wankers,” Evan said evenly.

Perfect. 

Severus glanced at them and then at the potion several times. With another swish, he vanished it. “Sure,” he agreed amicably. 

Regulus kept his face schooled, hiding his surprise. It was almost too easy. 

Severus followed them to their new duelling room, which was at the very depths of the dungeons. He trailed just behind them, working hard to remain under the radar as he normally did. He really was easy to convince—the nefarious part of Regulus’ brain thought about how easy of a target he’d be if they had wanted to hurt him or do anything awful. 

Once they entered the room, the three of them made quick work putting up protective barriers and charms, safety-proofing the area. Severus watched awkwardly from the side, obviously uncomfortable. 

“You duel much?” Barty asked, tossing his wand up in the air and catching it a couple of times as they finished up. 

Severus shrugged. “I dunno,” he half mumbled. “In defence, and a bit more this year, I guess, with Mulciber and them.”

“Alright, let’s break off,” Evan interrupted, having finished adding his own wards. Barty hopped to Regulus’ side just as they planned. 

They left Evan to work his magic—socialise, that was. Barty was back-up; he had a gifted silver tongue, but he’d been a prick to Severus enough times there was probably a bit of a grudge at this point. And Regulus was…

Well, no one suggested Regulus be involved, and he wasn’t offended in the slightest. Talking wasn't his strong suit. 

Barty was close to his equal in duelling, although in real life, Regulus knew he could take him easily just with the repertoire of spells he knew that would maim or kill someone. Just for practice, however, with spells limited to minimal pain or temporary discomfort, they were both quick on their feet with good reflexes. In no time, he was sweating, his hair beginning to stick to his temple. 

After landing a good stinging hex on Barty’s shoulder, they paused for a moment, glancing across the room. 

Evan was holding back, but he made a show of pretending he wasn’t. The same way that Barty often played dumb, Evan never fought to his full potential, in class or anywhere else. True power didn’t need recognition. 

A direct hit ricocheted off a shield Evan conjured but sent him stumbling backwards a step. He looked up with wide eyes once he got his footing.

“You’re powerful,” he complimented, and Regulus knew it wasn’t part of their ploy. He was actually impressed. 

Severus frowned, lowering his wand after a moment once he realised they’d all stopped.

“Thanks,” he muttered, looking uncertain. Regulus could relate. Receiving compliments was hard. “What else do you do?” Severus asked after a moment while they stripped off a couple of layers from exertion.

"We kinda just started," Evan explained. “But I figured we could make up some targets and practice a bit more useful spells on them, maybe. Things we can't cast at each other.”

Severus nodded, helping transfigure a couple of pillows they’d taken from their dorm into target mannequins. They were hopeful the House-elves would replace them by the time they went to bed that night. 

“Read up much on the Dark Arts?” Evan conversed as they stared down their targets on the other side of the room. Severus nodded enthusiastically. 

"I've been studying it for a while."

It became obvious he was telling the truth as they began to discuss offensive spells they wanted to learn. Prince was historically a Slytherin line. Maybe he was trained by his mum, Regulus considered. Sirius had said to him once that Severus had known as much dark magic as he had when they'd arrived at school their first year. After a bit of deliberation, they decided to practice the Furnunculus Curse. 

It was sort of fun. Regulus didn’t speak much, but practising his magic without any external pressure and just with his friends was enjoyable. Barty knew a few lesser-known curses through eavesdropping on his father’s dinner parties with some of the top Aurors, and Regulus and Evan, of course, were actually trained in the Dark magic by masters of the art. 

Severus had quite a bit to show off as well. He was extremely knowledgeable and, apparently, quite creative. 

“There’s a curse that only I know,” he said as they started dwindling down. “I invented it.” 

It wouldn't be the first spell Severus had designed, Regulus knew. Levicorpus, the one he'd made the previous year, had back-fired on him spectacularly, however, with the Marauders initiating an all-out pranking war with it once they'd figured it out. For months, you could barely walk down the hallway without passing students dangling by their ankles; it'd become the school's most popular trend last spring. 

“Well, go on then,” Evan encouraged.

“Sectumsepra!” he cast, slicing his wand through the air. The mannequin across from him was propelled back, sliced clearly through its torso and face. A hunk of plastic fell to the ground, cleaved cleanly off. They all looked rightfully impressed. 

Oh, that was fucking cool. 

“Bloody hell!” Barty exclaimed excitedly. Evan turned to look at Regulus with raised eyebrows.

A quick glance at Severus revealed him looking uncharacteristically confident—shoulders pulled back and hair out of his face. “It causes laceration and haemorrhage, obviously. But its power is entirely drawn from intention.”

Regulus guessed that was the issue of them all being in Slytherin. Severus had clearly been downplaying his talents as well, catching them off guard. The fact he would share it with them was a good sign, though—he obviously was trying to solidify his spot in their group. Their plan had worked.  

“Is there a counter-curse?” Regulus asked. 

Severus hesitated, considering whether or not to tell them. “A modified healing spell,” he said eventually. “It’s resistant to classic incantations."

Regulus nodded. That was good. Not that anyone was likely to unintentionally cast it at a friend, but anything irreversible was risky to dabble in. A specified healing spell was even better—only those who were trusted could correct it then, leaving enemies helpless. 

“Would you teach us?” Evan asked, eyes shiny in eagerness. 

Another pause, and then a short nod. Regulus felt a bit excited as well; it was a hell of a spell. Cleaner and more refined than a lot of the curses he knew already. It could be useful. 

And Rudolphus would be completely blindsided. 

They learnt it quickly enough, as well as the healing charm. It was a surprisingly incantation—something nearly as soothing as a lullaby. Severus seemed embarrassed to share it, but no one commented. Not even Barty. Soft or not, it was a show of his intelligence to have developed it at all, and magic could be intuitive like that.

Regulus was excited to see the curse's versatility—he could tone it down to a clean cut on the mannequin's shoulder, or create several deep slashes throughout its body, which would certainly be fatal. 

It was so awesome. 

Maybe Lily wasn’t entirely delusional about being his friend, he considered. Severus was kind of funny in a broody sort of way, and his magic was undeniably powerful.

“Have you taught anyone else?” Barty asked as they finished up. At Severus’ denial, they grinned at each other. This day was turning out to be unexpectedly fruitful. 

“What made you think of it?” Barty pressed as they collected their items and started making their way out of the dungeons. They weren’t going to mention Legilimency today—if it went well, they were hoping to warm him up to the idea next week, or maybe even try to make him think it was his own idea. 

Severus shrugged, looking at the floor again. “Just in case, I guess. For enemies.” For enemies.

He had created it specifically for James and Sirius, Regulus was sure. At least the git’s had laid off him this year and hadn’t had to experience this one yet. James would still be handsome even maimed, but Regulus certainly preferred him in one piece.  

Speak of the devil.

As they approached the Great Hall, Regulus caught James’ eye the moment they were in sight of each other. He was standing with Lily by the door, a smile breaking across his face as they drew nearer.

“Make it more obvious,” Evan growled in a low voice beside him. On his other side, Regulus could practically feel the hatred radiating off of Severus. His grudge definitely went more than bone deep. Regulus was prepared to walk straight by them to the Slytherin table, but Lily beckoned to them with a big smile and wave.

“Sev! Happy birthday!” she said enthusiastically. 

Regulus, Barty and Reg all looked at each other wide-eyed. 

Oh no.

“Happy birthday!” Barty shouted suddenly, looking regretful the moment he did. Evan’s cheeks flushed pink, looking uncertain. Whether from their slip-up or, more likely, being in Lily’s presence, Regulus wasn’t sure.

“Er—sorry. Happy birthday,” he mumbled. 

Lily looked more confused, and Regulus kept his mouth clamped shut. He wasn’t about to contribute to their group's embarrassing blunder. They’d just spent the entire day with Severus and hadn’t known it was his birthday. No wonder he agreed to hang out with us, Regulus thought. He had been spending it alone in the potion’s lab. The fact they’d been so blindsided by something after purposefully orchestrating the entire day was frankly embarrassing; thankfully, it wasn't life-or-death, or they'd have been toast.

Severus, at least, seemed unoffended. “Thanks,” he said in a low voice, glaring at James as if daring him to attack him. He hadn’t looked away for a single second since they had approached him. 

James blinked, glancing around the group, unsure of what to do. “Oh! Um, happy birthday?” he said after a moment, making everyone, Regulus included, swing their heads around to look at him. You could hear a pin drop. 

“Leave me alone, Potter,” Severus scowled after a moment, and Lily stepped forward immediately to separate them. “Do you want to grab lunch still?” she asked, grabbing his arm and whisking him away to the hall, leaving James alone with them. 

Without Lily, it went completely silent.

It was awkward—it was so awkward Regulus wanted to crawl into a hole to hide. 

“Pip is cute,” James blurted, looking at Evan, trying to make some form of connection. 

Evan wasn’t having it. “Right,” he just said flatly, giving him a half-scowl before turning to make his way to lunch. Regulus could’ve winced. Ouch.

Keeping his face impassive, he passed by James, which was harder to do than he’d thought it would be. He was pretty sure Barty did some sort of weird salute, but he didn’t allow himself to look back to check. They were in public; he couldn't risk it.

He’d see him later tonight. It could wait until then if it meant keeping them both safe. 

Regulus lengthened his stride to try to catch up with Evan. 

Chapter Text

When James had gotten back to the dorm on Saturday morning after leaving Regulus, he was over the moon. Everyone had been sleeping when he walked in, but Sirius had lifted his head off his pillow shortly after, always having been a light sleeper. He squinted at the clock on his bedside table after noticing James. 

“I guess it went well?” is what he settled on asking once he finally made out the time, rubbing his eyes.

James grinned enthusiastically. “He said yes!” he whispered, voice perhaps a bit too loud from excitement. 

Sirius started smiling, too, shuffling to one side so James could fit in beside him. It was warm and toasty from where he had been lying. 

“So you’re together?” Sirius confirmed, looking at him eagerly despite his tiredness. His support had been unprecedented during the week; James was certain he was vicariously trying to connect to his brother through him. 

James nodded, his glasses being jostled off his nose a bit from the pillow. “It’s complicated, but it went so well! You were right—he just needed a bit of time.”

Taking a deep breath, James settled in to go over every detail of their conversation. Sirius nodded thoughtfully throughout it, face darkening at the bad bits. He did his best to gloss over the parts that would hurt him, but—

“Father used the Imperius Curse on him when I left?” Sirius asked, his voice strained. 

“You had to leave, she tortured you,” James tried to remind him. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault; he knew running away was already hard on him without having known what Regulus was dealing with. Sirius didn’t argue with him, but James knew he was hurting. He looked downright stressed by the end of it. 

“I’m gonna message Mum and Dad so they can look into it,” he tried to comfort.

Sirius looked uncertain; James hated the way it made his stomach sink. 

“Regulus is right,” Sirius said eventually, tearing open James’ chest so a black hole formed in it. “It’s complicated—it might be worse than that, really. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do until he’s seventeen,” he admitted. “Not if they want to keep him around, which, well, it seems they do.”

James shook his head. “That’s not possible,” he argued. “There has to be something.”

Sirius was biting his lip. “We can get your parents to try, but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility he isn’t getting out of there for a while. Not unless he's planning on fleeing the country. And they can’t let anyone know what they are doing. If our parents find out…” James wanted to cry. “He’ll be at Hogwarts for most of it, at least,” Sirius said appeasingly, although his voice was unconvinced. “And the important thing is that he doesn’t want to be a Death Eater anymore, right? He’s smart…cunning…he’s in Slytherin for a reason. He’ll be able to make it there another year and stay under the radar.”

“I don’t want him to have to,” James said rather pathetically. 

“I know,” Sirius said simply, and James knew he felt the same. The silence settled between them in mutual helplessness. There wasn’t anything else they could do but hope. James would wait however long it would take, he knew. Even if it was years, he’d wait for Regulus.

“So you are dating my little brother,” Sirius said after some time had passed, looking thoughtful.

James nodded. “I am.”

“It’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Saying it out loud: Prongs is dating my brother,” Sirius said in a bit of an accent. “James is dating my brother,” he tried again, this time in his regular voice. Finally, in a posh tone: “Regulus and James are dating.”

“Yes, he’s dating your brother!” Peter yelled from across the room suddenly. James and Sirius’ eyes widened in mutual shock. 

“It was determined an hour ago—if you wankers don’t shut up, I’m going to hex your mouths closed. It’s seven am on a bloody Saturday!” Remus snapped in agreement. “Use a Quietening Charm, or go to sleep!”

James and Sirius looked at each other in mirrored guilt, bursting into laughter at the same time. 

“Are we interrupting your beauty sleep, Moony?” Sirius howled, pressing his face into his pillow. 

James sprang to his feet then, unable to contain himself now that everyone was awake, and leapt onto Peter’s bed, bouncing excitedly. “I’ve got a boyfriend!” he exclaimed in triumph. “I’ve done it!” he yelled, shrieking when Peter grabbed him suddenly, tossing him onto the bed beside him and pinning him down.

“We hear you, ya goddamn lunatic!” he laughed. 

Loud barking suddenly filled the room, and then Padfoot was on the bed with them, too, tail whacking James in his face as he bounded amongst them excitedly. Remus was trying to look grumpy from his bed, but a smile formed on his face despite his best efforts. 

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” James said again happily, smiling stupidly he was sure. 

“We’re all in relationships now!” Peter noted excitedly. “Well, except for Sirius, but that won’t last long, I’m sure.”

Sirius transformed back into himself, lying splayed out on top of James and Peter. “Nope!” he said, popping the ‘p’ dramatically. “No dating for me; New Year’s resolution—apparently, I have some trauma I have to work through,” he said with a laugh. “Well, according to Mary, but I reckon she’s right. I’m officially on break,” he revealed dramatically.

Peter and James exchanged a look. “Good for you, Sirius!” Peter encouraged happily, scratching his ribs as if he were still in his Animagus form. 

When James looked up, Remus was staring at Sirius with a strange expression, something that looked a bit curious. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

One day, they’d be on the same page, he hoped. 

. . . 

After an entire night of drafting, James ended up sending his parents a letter that neared three feet long. 

He included every detail he could remember that Regulus had mentioned, plus more Sirius had wanted to add in, like the grapevine of wizard portraits, which streamlined information right to Orion’s office. And about the Lestrange’s familial connection to several of the Judges that still worked in the Ministry, which he was certain were plants. It was rather disheartening to see it all written out in ink, but James refused to lose hope. 

Above all, they highlighted the importance that under no circumstance could word get out about their plotting to Regulus’ family or anyone who may be in contact with them. Sirius proofread and edited this section countless times, putting more effort into this letter than he had any assignment. It needed to be perfect, with no room for error. 

It was sent off with Patti on Sunday afternoon; Sirius was more than happy to loan out his owl. He wasn’t sending letters to anyone aside from Effie and Monty anyway, he mentioned indifferently. 

James was hopeful. It seemed like an impossible feat, but money wasn’t a barrier for his family. Someone would have the answers, and his parents would know who. Plus, they still had three months—lots of time, he hoped, before Regulus would be needing to return home. 

As it were, he was on his way to meet with Regulus right now. However, despite his excitement that his brother was defecting from the dark side, Sirius was still battling his own issues regarding the development. 

“Come back tonight,” he had ordered stiffly when James was headed off. “Or actually—no. No, definitely do come back,“ he said pensively, eyebrows pushed together, making a deep crease between them. James offered him a sorry smile and took off before he could think about it too hard. He was pretty sure he’d be back tonight—Professor McGonagall had told him Dumbledore had wanted a meeting with him that evening at eight-thirty—but it wasn’t going to be Sirius’ place to start making those demands. 

Regulus may kill him if he started trying to butt into their relationship. No, Sirius had to focus on his own relationship with his brother, James decided. He so obviously wanted to connect with him again—James would force him to make that step himself instead of trying to do it through their relationship. 

He tried his best to keep his cool when he saw Regulus, but he was sure he must’ve looked like an idiot by how big he’d been smiling. 

“Hey, Bambi,” he greeted merrily, pulling him into a kiss as soon as he was within reach. He was pleased that Regulus was grinning against his lips by the end of it.

“Hey,” he offered a bit shyly. 

They hadn’t planned anything special. They hadn’t planned anything at all, honestly, but James was excited to just hang out with him again like they used to. The last two times he’d seen him felt like they were a tease since the first one ended in disaster, and the second one had been monopolised by serious discussions. 

“You ate supper before you came?” James confirmed before they settled down to play Frustration. James still hadn’t won yet—Regulus had promised he wasn’t cheating, but James wasn’t sure he believed him. He still hadn’t won at anything that they had played. 

Regulus nodded, mouth turning up in the smallest of smiles. “I did.” 

James, content, plopped to the ground and started arranging the game pieces. “I feel like Evan doesn’t like me,” he expressed once they started playing. It’d been bugging him all day—everyone liked him, unless it was for good reason. He and Evan were always on fine terms, he had thought, not good or bad. They hadn’t even crossed paths all too much in the past, but earlier that afternoon, he’d basically told him off in front of the Great Hall. 

It was driving him insane. 

He frowned as Regulus laughed darkly. “No, definitely not at the moment.”

“But why!” James asked petulantly. He hadn’t done anything bad to him—just the opposite, really.

Regulus shrugged carelessly, but upon seeing his expression, his face softened sympathetically. “Awh, James—don’t take it personally. He was just mad about Friday night. He’ll come around.”

James frowned, clicking the bubble in the centre of the game board with a loud ‘pop’. Another four. Three rolls into the game, and he hadn’t gotten a single piece out of his base yet—not a good start. “What happened Friday? I heard Dorcas say they had been looking for you?”

Not only had Dorcas been looking for Regulus, but Dorcas had been looking for him in a very familiar tee shirt. A tee shirt James knew belonged to a certain Gryffindor beater. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, but he would be keeping an eye on Marlene. It looked like he possibly wasn’t the only one dating a Slytherin. 

Regulus shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “I just didn’t say I’d be spending the night out,” he said plainly.

“You’ve spent the night out before,” James pointed out, pushing the issue just a bit further. Regulus’ friends had clearly been worried about him, so either they were being overbearing, or James was missing something and not being concerned enough.

“Yeah, it’s just—“ Regulus sighed, straightening his back for a moment from where he was hunched over the game to look at James directly. “It was my fault. I wasn’t in a good way after the break. I hadn’t slept much at home, and I ended up crashing for a couple of days after we saw each other. It wasn't a big deal or anything, but I missed some school, so my mates got a bit worried.”

James knew this, but of course, he didn’t say as much. He couldn’t explain how he knew, not without revealing the Map. 

“Evan though—his mum killed herself when he was younger. Like nine or ten, I think. He was in the house with her while she was doing it, and he didn’t know. Not until he went in and found her afterwards. He worries a lot, I think, because of it. I shouldn’t have stayed Friday night, not when I knew he was concerned about me already. It was my fault.”

James frowned. He felt like a dick now. 

“That’s really hard,” he said sympathetically. 

Regulus nodded. “I don’t regret it,” he said a bit offhandedly. “I wanted to be with you. But it was selfish—Evan does a lot for me. The least I could do is not make his life harder than it is.”

James bit his lip contemplatively. Violet was an angel and clearly loved her brother, and Regulus was undeniably loyal to his friend, but he still had his hesitations about Evan. He wondered what would happen with their friendship once Regulus ran away, since everyone seemed to know that the youngest Rosier boy would be a Death Eater following school. Regulus hadn’t mentioned it, though, so he left it how it was for the time being.

“I’ll keep working on it. With Evan, I mean. I want your friends to like me.”

Regulus’ mouth quirked up in a smile. “Good luck,” he teased, popping the bubble. A six. He moved his second piece of the game out of his base and onto the board. 

Are you kidding me? James scowled to himself. 

“What about Sni- Er, Severus?” James asked, popping the die. A one. Nice, he thought sarcastically. 

Regulus laughed softly. “We needed his help for something—I can’t say too much because it’s not just me it would affect, but um… yeah. Didn’t realise it was his birthday. That was a bit horrible.”

James snorted. Seeing Severus’ discomfort when everyone belatedly started wishing him a happy birthday was a bit hysterical. He wished he could’ve taken a picture of it. Sirius had a good laugh about it as well, but he’d been more than a bit suspicious as to why Regulus had him tagging along with his friends in the first place.

James trusted him, however, so he dropped it without further questioning. Regulus and him had the same goal, as long as that remained aligned, James knew that Regulus wouldn’t do anything that’d hurt either of them. 

“Hey, Reg,” he said suddenly, causing the other boy to look up from moving one of his pieces. His tongue was sticking out between his teeth in that adorable way it did when he was concentrating. “I really like you,”

Regulus’ cheeks flushed red. “I really like you too,” he mumbled, ducking his head again. 

James smirked, popping the die once again when he finished his turn. Another four. He rolled his eyes but didn’t complain; he didn’t mind losing so much he found when it was against Regulus. Even if he was pretty sure he was cheating.

. . . 

Standing at the end of the Gargoyle Corridor a couple of hours later, James looked down at the piece of paper Minnie had given him that morning. He hated cutting his time with Regulus short, but he knew he couldn’t be late for a meeting with the Headmaster.

Regulus had cocked his head in interest when James told him why he had to leave, but he didn’t press him further. James wouldn’t have been able to answer any questions anyway, given he wasn’t sure what it could be about. 

“Ice Mice,” he said uncertainly, and with sudden loud thuds, the gargoyle stepped out of the way, a spiral staircase erupting in its place. He hadn’t been in Dumbledore’s office since last year after the Shrieking Shack incident, and he was a bit worried thinking about what could have prompted this meeting. He couldn’t remember doing anything that would justify it, not unless Flitwick had finally gotten fed up with his monthly detentions from sleeping during his course. 

It wasn’t his fault Charms was so boring, though. James aced all the practical exams—how could he be expected to stay awake if he wasn’t even learning anything? Besides, Flitwick’s voice was oddly soothing; his course was practically a nap-trap after a full moon. 

He’d felt better upon learning that the other Marauders had all been summoned to see the Headmaster at various points that evening as well. Whatever it was, they were all in it together.

Dumbledore’s office was as interesting as ever. His trinkets clicked and rang as they spun and flipped in their spots. The old Headmaster himself was sitting behind his desk, petting his Phoenix fondly on its head with a knobby finger. 

“James, my boy,” he greeted jovially, rising to his feet and pushing forward a bowl on his desk as he approached. “Help yourself to a lemon drop.”

“Headmaster,” James greeted politely, grabbing a couple of the treats. He sucked on one as Dumbledore settled into his seat more comfortably after they shook hands.

“How has your year been going?”

“Well,” James confirmed, nodding his head happily. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as they held contact. “I’m progressing well in all my courses, and Quidditch has been great! Gryffindor’s got a good shot at the House Cup this year.” 

Dumbledore laughed. “I never was an athlete myself, but I am quite fond of those matches. You play Ravenclaw next month, if I am correct?”

James nodded. They’d been training almost every second day in preparation for it. Slytherin was almost all new players, and they’d won just by ten points. He knew it was a reflection on the Seekers (and Regulus’ brilliance) more than anything, but Frank hadn’t wanted to take any chances. He suspected it’d be the hardest match of the year for them. 

“You must be wondering why I called upon you this evening?” Dumbledore said finally after more small talk, and James nodded, heart twinging as a sudden seriousness filled the room. “I am having meetings with all the students who stated they were interested in the Auror program during their interviews in their fifth year. Am I correct to presume you are still thinking of pursuing that path?” 

James nodded, leaning forward in interest. Moony hadn’t said he wanted to be an Auror, his mind reminded him, but he tucked that thought away for later. 

“The wizarding world is in a dire state right now. In response to the rising need for Aurors, the Ministry is altering the program and entrance requirements. As I am sure you are aware, it traditionally is a three-year course.”

James again showed his understanding. He thought of all the newspaper headlines he’d read over the past few months, all the dead, all the families grieving loved ones to random attacks and violence. He thought of the sombre environment that had filled Diagon Ally when he’d been there this past summer to collect his school supplies—the Auror program was his chance to make a real palpable difference for people. 

James had wanted to be one ever since he was a kid, but he recognised the need for them now more than ever.

“Following a practical exam, stream-lined training will be made available for those who show promise upon graduation. You are a very gifted wizard, James, and I know your heart is in the right place. I ask you to please weigh the possible consequences of such a commitment, however, as this is not a path which will leave you unscarred.”

James considered. 

He thought of Regulus then and the control which You-Know-Who already exerted over him. The free will which had been stolen from him and the harm it had already caused. He wanted to help him—he wanted to help lead them to victory before Regulus would even be near danger. 

He wanted to make a difference.

“I’m interested,” he replied steadily. 

Dumbledore’s face was graven. 

“This is not a path which is for the weak-willed. War is not glorious, nor forgiving. You may lose many things you hold dear to you.”

“I know,” James said certainly. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. “I want to do it.”

Chapter Text

January passed by in a blur for Regulus. He found himself so busy most days that he hardly ever had a free moment to think. His life became ruled by a strict schedule, with his time precisely divided between school and an ever-extending list of extracurriculars. The 'duelling club' had been working out without a hitch, and even Dorcas and Pandora had begun to attend, albeit irregularly.

His martial magic was progressing as well. Regulus moved more naturally with the passing weeks, his magic growing sensitive and reflexive to his intent and reactions. As his power grew, so did his confidence that he’d be able to take Rudolphus down by spring break. He spent more time practising than he was with James lately, but he justified that it was for the both of them. If he wanted to make it the next couple of years, he needed to deal with this first. 

Their plan had worked out rather spectacularly with Severus—Evan mentioned wanting to practice Occlumency to protect himself against Dumbledore’s probing mind during a session, and Severus had leapt at the opportunity to show off. He'd become a staple member of their club, accepting his official invitation to join without hesitation.

He was very advanced in the mind arts, more than they had even hoped. Regulus was getting better at disconnecting his memories from his emotions every day, putting them safely out of reach even if a Master Legilimens were to go rifling through his head. He’d already been rather proficient against his mother, but it was becoming second nature to keep his mind protected and tidy. Each night before bed, he, Barty, and Evan began to meditate for a half hour in their dorm, determined to learn to maintain their shields even in their sleep. 

Barty was an oddity. From the first time they partnered up, Severus had frowned, stating he couldn’t get anything from him. Evan and Regulus were duly impressed, but Barty just carried on studying like it was nothing notable. Regulus had heard of intuitive Legilimens, witches and wizards who could pick up on other’s surface thoughts without any training. He wondered if Barty was somehow the opposite—if that existed—or if he just had received more training from his father than he let on. 

It was the first Saturday of February, and Regulus found himself heading to the Forbidden Forest with Evan. It was the morning following the full moon, so Regulus was certain any dark creatures around were likely cosily sleeping back in the castle by now, the sun newly risen. 

Earlier in the week, Evan had received detention for fighting. Regulus hadn’t been around when it happened—he only knew it involved some upper-year Hufflepuffs and his friend. In his usual fashion, however, Slughorn had shirked from his duties and directed Evan to collect a few jars of Bursting Mushrooms instead. He was nothing if not an opportunist, and harvesting Bursting Mushrooms was not very pleasant business at all. 

Regulus volunteered to help Evan out of loyalty. Fighting was uncharacteristic for him; he’d seemed more high-strung than usual lately, and Regulus was sure it was at least partially his fault. 

Barty would’ve joined, but he stated he needed to spend the day at the library. He was slowly but surely drowning in his coursework and had already begun revising for their O.W.L.s. Regulus looked forward to next year when he’d be done with his vendetta and available to hang out with them again. He'd barely seen Barty's face this year; it was always shoved into a textbook, it seemed.

They’d just reached the forest edge when a large black dog trotted to their side, bee-lining it from the castle. 

“Hey, you,” Regulus greeted the familiar face, holding his hand out for the canine to sniff. Its tail wagged happily as he scratched it behind its ears. 

Evan looked at it appraisingly. “It’s nice?” he confirmed, gingerly holding out his hand for the dog to inspect. The dog barked once sharply as if to agree.  

“I think it’s one of Hagrid’s mutts,” Regulus explained. “It visited me when I was in the Hospital Wing; I haven’t seen him around much since then.”

Evan crouched on the ground, scratching his scruff vigorously. The dog’s entire ass waved back and forth in contentment as he manhandled him, its back leg twitching as if to scratch behind its ear as it curled into the rough treatment.

“He’s a very good boy,” Evan declared, laughing as the dog’s tongue flopped out goofily. “Do you want to come mushroom forging?” he asked him in a silly voice.

The dog barked again, jumping into the air. Evan and Regulus shared a look of amusement, “I guess that’s a yes.”

As they made their way into the dark shadows, they kept their eyes peeled for mushrooms. Bursting Mushrooms looked rather like normal fly amanitas, except they shrank rapidly when approached and, of course, exploded violently afterwards. The trick to harvesting them was to cut it at its stem before it had the chance to shrink too much and, at risk of losing a limb, burst. 

Like he had said: not pleasant business. 

“How have you been doing?” Evan conversed as they stepped over roots and brambles. 

“Fine,” Regulus answered, gesturing to a red cap peeking out from the base of one of the trees. Gotcha.

Evan produced a knife from his pocket, crouching low and approaching the mushroom with careful steps, wincing when a stick snapped under his shoe with a loud 'crack.' The mushroom leapt in the air at the noise, already starting to shrink in fear. With a quick sprint and a dive onto the forest floor, Evan severed its stalk in one smooth motion, flopping onto his back dramatically afterwards. It was a good harvest, Regulus noted, the mushroom was probably still at least three-quarters of its normal size. 

One down, many to go. 

“No, how are you really?” Evan said pointedly after he pushed himself back onto his feet, giving him a look. 

Regulus ignored him, choosing to follow the dog instead, which had stopped in a clearing not far from them. Just a few inches from his paws was a small community of Horklump Mushrooms growing.

“Good boy,” he said kindly, patting his head. “But the wrong kind. We want the exploding ones,” he clarified. The dog barked once, then put its nose to the ground and started sniffing vigorously. It led them to their next victim quickly.

“Smart creature,” Evan complimented, making quick work of the second one. He was already covered in dead leaves and sticks from diving onto the ground, knees and elbows covered in mud. Evan walked closer to him as he tucked the mushrooms away in his rucksack, his gaze purposefully on Regulus. “You said you’d talk to me,” he reminded him pointedly.

Regulus' shoulders raised in annoyance.

"I’m fine, Evan,” he said sternly, turning to try to leave. Evan snatched Regulus’ wrist suddenly, forcing his arm to extend between them, his grasp firm. Regulus tried to pull away instinctively, the injuries on his arm burning in guilt under the fabric of his sleeve, but was unable to. He flicked his eyes up from where Evan clasped his wrist and met his gaze evenly.

“Evan…” Regulus warned in a low voice, but Evan shook his head. 

“No—you promised me you’d talk to me.” 

“Stop,” he argued, voice raising slightly. He tried to pull his arm free again, but Evan just tightened his grip. Regulus grunted as he tugged to get away, stumbling slightly in his efforts. By their hips, the dog growled. 

“Evan, seriously. Drop it," he seethed, glaring at him. 

Evan shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice cracking. Regulus froze at his uncharacteristic show of emotion. “If you’re fine, then why are you still hurting yourself? You said you’d tell me.”

It went silent, and Regulus pressed his lips together in guilt. Evan loosened his grip on his wrist but didn’t pull away. When neither moved for a moment, he put his thumb against Regulus’ pulse point, just under the cuff of his shirt. He rubbed back and forth along the area more gently than should be possible, sending a shiver through Regulus’ body. 

Even wearing several layers, Regulus felt exposed. It was as if Evan could see through his sleeve. 

Regulus pulled his arm back against his chest suddenly when his thumb moved his sleeve up just a little too high, breaking the spell. Whether Evan knew or not, he didn't want to show him—it was his secret, for himself. The fact anyone knew at all made him want to curl up in a hole. 

“I am fine,” he repeated, staring at the ground, cheeks flushing. 

“I’m not getting mad at you,” Evan promised. “I just want to help.”

“You are helping,” Regulus said desperately. He didn't want to talk about this. “You are, I promise.”

“What else can I do though? What do you need?” Evan implored, and Regulus had to resist the urge to laugh. A warm body pressed itself against the side of his leg; he scratched the dog's head absent-mindedly. 

“Nothing—and I’m not being facetious, I swear. It’s just not a ‘fix in one night’ problem." Not after so many years of it. "But it’s better—I swear to Salazar, it’s better.” He didn’t know how to describe how some nights he felt he had to. Like it was some itch under his skin that wouldn’t subside. 

It was far less often, though. Most evenings, he spent meditating with his friends and then promptly passing out from the exhaustion of training. Regulus had barely done it in the past month since they started duelling, and he had taken care not to do too much damage when he had. He had never really expected to live long enough to care about any scarring before, but…

Well, now he was a bit hopeful.

And now he had James. Regulus didn’t want him to know. Not until he had it completely under control, at least; he didn’t want to scare him off. It was getting a bit troublesome to keep his shirt on, as James had grown fond of unbuttoning it lately. 

Evan looked at him uncertainly for a moment. Then he pulled him into a hug. 

Regulus found his face pressed against the cool and damp fabric of Evan’s cloak, his nose pushing into his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, loosely completing the embrace after a second’s hesitation. Evan smelt like the forest, unsurprising, considering he was wearing half of it. 

Regulus readjusted, more firmly pulling Evan against him. It wasn’t just for his benefit, he knew. 

“I care about you, you idiot,” Evan whispered. Regulus' eyes stung at the admission, nodding to show his understanding. He knew Evan did. He squeezed him tightly once more before letting Regulus go, diverting his eyes as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 

He was glad when Evan let the subject go. He would stop—he was stopping. He wasn't sure how Evan had known, but he wouldn’t do it again. It'd just been a couple of bad nights, but he'd resist next time. Every day, it was getting easier and moving further from his mind. 

They continued into the forest without a word. The dog licked Regulus’ hand reassuringly, and he offered it a smile, petting its forehead softly as they slowly meandered on. Maybe he was a Healer-Dog? He’d heard of St. Mungo’s having those on a few of the units for their patients.

He’d be rather good at it, Reg thought. If he wasn’t one already.

“So, you’re still into Potter?” Evan asked a few minutes later as they made their way over a particularly rooted area and into a clearing again.

“Yeah, I like Potter,” Regulus admitted with a quiet laugh. 

“I still don’t trust him,” Evan huffed. Regulus shrugged, that much was obvious. There was no reason he had to, though. "You’re my best friend,” Evan explained, and Regulus looked over to him, head cocking curiously. 

He was Evan’s best friend? Pride flashed through him, filling his chest with satisfaction. Evan was his best friend, too, he realised. Evan just rolled his eyes when he said as much, though.

“Obviously," he laughed. Regulus kicked a branch that was lying on the ground out of his path, smiling. He was glad it was obvious to one of them, at least. 

“So, Potter’s not going anywhere?” Evan pressed further, making Regulus' cheeks burn as he stared at the ground. James said he wasn’t, and Regulus believed him. James was so excited to see him every time he walked into The Room, wanting to spend as much time with him as he could. He was always checking up on him and asking him about his day, trusting Regulus to almost a careless amount.

And James loved him so much. He was always kissing him, complimenting him, reassuring him—

Evan started half-laughing, half-sobbing beside him, throwing his hands over his face. Regulus went completely red, realising how openly he had been thinking about James right then.

“Bloody hell, you’re down bad,” Evan groaned. “This is a catastrophe. You love James fucking Potter.” 

Regulus bit his lip, glancing back down to the barren floor of the forest, but he didn’t deny it. There was some truth to it, even if Regulus couldn’t say the words himself quite yet. 

. . .

On Sunday, Regulus went to Hogsmeade with his friends, trailing the group around town as they went store to store. 

He’d bought Evan some new Quidditch gloves since he had noticed his current ones had gotten a bit holey. He was the fourth generation Rosier to be wearing them, however, so they’d more than served their purpose. He hadn’t said anything yet—he’d give them to him in private before their next practice, guised under an excuse that’d allow him to save his pride. 

Regulus bought a set of gold wire earrings as well, twisted into a simple flower design. He had missed Lily’s birthday earlier in the week, only finding out about it when James had mentioned it.

The gold would compliment her hair and skin tone, and the design was self-explanatory. He hoped she liked them—he never had been a big gift giver, but he’d declared them as friends just recently. He didn’t want to mess that up over an oversight, and it seemed like the sort of thing that would make Lily feel happy. 

They were just heading to Madam Puddifoot’s to finish off the day when sudden yelling caught his attention. 

“Reggie!” Sirius called out, jogging towards him. 

Regulus' eyebrows rose, his shock palpable. What the hell, he thought, bewildered. His friends stuttered to a stop as well, all turning around. Sirius never spoke to Regulus, and he especially never chased him down in the middle of Hogsmeade. 

“Reggie,” he greeted again, trotting to a stop just a few feet away from them. He looked effortlessly cool as normal; he still hadn’t cut his hair, and it fanned around his face and down his neck just past his shoulders in loose curls. He was wearing all black, similar to Regulus himself, but it was all Muggle clothing. 

Regulus noticed silver glinting from his ear—when had he gotten that pierced? 

Sirius was staring at him expectantly, and he realised he hadn’t reacted yet. 

“Yes?” he asked finally. He hadn’t gotten to be so close to Sirius in so long, let alone be able to study him. He looked so healthy. His cheeks were filled out, his eyes bright, and his face seemingly worry-free. Regulus was sure living with James would have such an effect on anyone, but it was good to see. 

“Can we talk?” Sirius asked, glancing around the street. It wasn’t busy, but he knew just as well as Regulus how their parents seemed to have eyes everywhere. 

Regulus knew he should say 'no'—play it safe and continue with his friend—but his heart hurt in his chest. He hadn’t seen his brother in so long, and Sirius wanted to talk to him? Regulus couldn’t imagine over what, but it filled him with hope. He thought of Sirius’ room at home, his crumpled-up sheets and fading scent on his pillow, and the night he spent curled up there longing for his brother, who was seemingly out of reach.

“I’ll catch up,” he told his friends, turning on his heel to lead them out of town.  

They ended up by the riverbed. The snow was still wet and slushy on the ground, but it was safe, at least. They needed to be away from prying eyes and ears, regardless of the subject. Sirius was a blood traitor—there was no excuse as to why Regulus would be talking to him. Sirius dried off a couple of boulders with a few quick spells, and they sat on them side by side, facing the rushing water. 

Regulus felt nervous for some reason. As if he were with a stranger he'd just met. 

“How’ve you been?” Sirius asked, turning to look at him. His voice was like a lullaby to Regulus' ears—deeper now but just as recognisable. Regulus hadn't realised how long it had been, not until they were sitting so close together and the extent of how much had changed was laid out so obviously. His chest ached with longing; it was nearly crippling. 

“I’m okay,” he said simply, keeping his face impassive. The past months since Sirius had left rushed over him, but he didn’t want to give too much of himself away, not when he didn’t yet know why Sirius had chosen now to speak to him.

Would Sirius warn him to stay away from James? Would he berate him for his use of the Dark Arts? Was he here just to say ‘I told you so'? Regulus didn't trust it; he couldn't trust that this wouldn't leave him with anything but more hurt.

Sirius studied him longer, and Regulus held his gaze, memorising his face to detail. Everyone said they looked alike, but Regulus couldn’t see it. Even with Sirius’ eyebrows drawn together in worry—his mouth turned down in the smallest of frowns—he couldn’t connect the image to what he saw when he looked in the mirror each day.

“I miss you.” The words erupted from Sirius' mouth in sudden desperation, his eyes glistening in pain, and Regulus flinched. “I’m sorry I left—I’m so sorry, Reggie. I felt like I was dying there, though. Please, understand. The fights and the yelling—I couldn’t take it any longer,” he explained, voice still strained. "And when Mother... I couldn't stay after that. I didn't have a choice."

Regulus bit his lip, drawing blood, his heart clenching sympathetically. He knew—he'd been there too. Sirius didn't have to explain why he needed to leave; the answer had been written all over the house throughout the past six years. Ever since Sirius went to Hogwarts—since he'd met James and changed his ways—he'd become a piece that didn't quite fit in their family anymore. The final fight between Sirius and their mother had been the last nail in the coffin, but Regulus had watched it get pieced together for so many years before that.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, sounding so much younger than he was. 

“I know," Regulus gave him a tight smile. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

Sirius started to cry. It was quiet, twin tears falling from his eyelashes onto his cheek, trailing in a river down to his jaw, but his eyes were devastated. Regulus sat in silence as Sirius wiped at his face angrily, as if his body had betrayed him. 

“It’s okay,” Regulus whispered again, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t need an apology, but maybe Sirius needed to be forgiven. 

It was okay. Sirius had run away, but not once had Regulus felt angry about it. He was sad; he missed his brother; he was lonely and in pain and deeply affected. But he was never mad. Every fight, every slammed door—he'd been there too. And the arguments... they weren't truly even the problem. They were the symptoms. The symptoms of an indisputable fact: Sirius was good. Sirius was a good person, and he'd been surrounded by evil. Their family rejected him as a body rejects a foreign object; they couldn't recognise that the piece in him that was different from them was good, so they attacked it instead.

Light and darkness could not co-exist without one extinguishing the other.

They yelled and fought and tried to cut the entity out, but they couldn't remove it without removing Sirius himself. But they tried—oh, their parents had tried. Their parents had wanted, with every fibre of their beings, for Sirius to be the perfect son. He was everything they could have asked for in an Heir: brilliant, charismatic, handsome, and a natural-born leader. But they couldn't sever that piece from him, no matter how hard they tried.

It was who Sirius was; his core was made up of righteousness and bravery. Like oil and water, they just weren't compatible. 

"I’m so sorry I cut you off," Sirius apologised as his breath started to even out. "I convinced myself that you were someone you aren’t so I could justify what I did. So I wouldn't feel bad. But that person isn’t who you are—I just couldn't face the truth. My mind wouldn't let you be someone I missed."

Regulus shrugged, looking to the ground. Sirius was being a bit hard on himself—he really wasn’t the best person, particularly before he met James. There was something wrong enough with Regulus that he belonged with their family; he was filled with enough darkness to fit in. It was a cold truth that he wasn't as good as Sirius. In any way, but especially with this.

“Are you really okay?” Sirius asked again, shuffling to sit closer to him so they were pressed up against one another. His body felt solid against him. Regulus moved, so they were just a bit more snug.

Sirius was warm and familiar against him. This is so much better than trying to connect with your ghost through some dirty sheets, Regulus thought. Sirius had been there the first day he opened his eyes in this world—his older brother had been there, warm and familiar, just like now. Years' worth of memories lit up in his head: images of them sitting together just as they were now, on their beds, on the couch, at the table, growing up each year to be bigger and older but always at each other’s side. His body remembered even what his mind couldn’t.

He was back again now, back after so many years, and Regulus’ body rejoiced at feeling whole.

“Yeah,” Regulus nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up thinking about the past month. “I’m happy,” he affirmed quietly. 

Sirius studied him unconvinced. “I feel like you don’t really know what happy means,” he said after a minute. 

Regulus bristled. “Oh, fuck off,” he complained. Sirius snorted beside him.

“I’m just being honest, but you’ll know one day. We’ll get there,” he amended.

Regulus rolled his eyes.

We’ll get there. Sirius said it as if they were in it together. Would this be more than a one-off apology? Regulus didn’t let himself get too excited—it was clear that Sirius had wanted his forgiveness more than anything. It wouldn’t be uncharacteristic for him to leave once he got what he wanted. Just because he had wanted to apologise didn't mean he wanted to be Regulus' friend. He'd stopped being that far before this summer—far before he had left their house.

He pushed a rock towards the river with his toe.  

“I’m gay,” Sirius suddenly blurted out beside him, and Regulus glanced over, amused. 

In the same way Regulus didn’t feel the need to say much, sometimes Sirius had to say everything on his mind. He was used to it, though—it was the exact same as when they were kids. Sirius was always good at listening to him even when he didn’t use his words, though, so it evened out. Maybe it was an effect of growing up side by side, but they complimented each other well. One who barely spoke at all, and one who barely stopped. 

“Yeah?” he asked after a moment, eyebrow quirked up in question. 

Sirius nodded. “I uh—yeah, I think I’m gay. I haven’t really said it before.”

Regulus raised his eyebrows. Oh. 

“I was having a hard time with it. I’ve known for a while now, I think, I just… I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn't want to be. But then I hurt some really good people, and then James said he was with you. And I realised, I guess, if my little brother is gay and comfortable, it doesn’t make sense that I was being such a baby about it.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Sirius,” Regulus complained again, giving him an exasperated look. “You make me sound like an invalid.”

Sirius snorted again. “Okay, but be real—when the hell have I ever been afraid of something and you weren’t?”

He rolled his eyes but didn't respond. Sirius was right, of course. The world would spontaneously combust before Regulus was the ‘brave’ brother. 

Sirius was gay. Regulus wasn’t sure how he felt about it—overall, not very surprised, he supposed, although he never thought about it much to begin with. On top of everything else, it made his absolute anger at being married off to a woman a bit more relatable, at least. 

“Why’d you tell me?” he asked after a minute. 

"I guess…" Sirius shrugged, his face pinching in thought. "I guess it's because you're my brother, and because you're gay too. I just wanted to tell you first, before anyone else. I knew you'd understand."

Regulus nodded. It was a big step, that was for sure. He had never even said it out loud himself. I'm gay. He’d always known, but he skipped a step, maybe, and just went to hooking up and dating men instead. Their family wasn't one where you talked about such things—it was something you hid away and kept from the light of day.

It made his heart tighten a bit as he thought about it—Sirius told him first. Not James or one of his other friends, he told him. 

Like they were still brothers, maybe. Or at least friends. 

“Reggie?” Sirius said after a moment, and he glanced at him in question. Sirius had never been good at comfortable silence. “You know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right? I know James is older and can be enthusiastic, about things, but you can take it slow. Don’t do anything you don’t feel ready to do, ever. Okay?”

What. The. Fuck. 

He was pretty sure his jaw had dropped open, but he didn’t care. 

“Are you seriously trying to give me a sex talk right now?” he asked, scandalised. He winced the second he said it.

“I seriously am,” Sirius said, a grin wide on his face. Fuck, Regulus had walked into that one. 

“James is the virgin,” he disputed quickly, shutting the conversation down. He was the one Sirius could direct his concerns to, not Regulus. “So don’t—don’t bring this up ever again,” he ordered briskly.

“James is the…” Sirius repeated quietly, eyes widening suddenly in realisation. Now, he was the one looking at him with his jaw dropped. “When, Regulus? Who?!” he demanded. 

Regulus flinched away. “Drop it,” he mumbled half-heartedly. He wouldn’t be talking about that with anyone, ever. 

Sirius' eyebrows furrowed as he studied him suspiciously. “No, who, Reggie?” he demanded again. His tone wasn’t joking anymore. 

Regulus met his eyes with a glare. “Drop. It.”

Even without saying anything, Sirius had figured something out. Regulus couldn’t be sure exactly what, but he felt like he was walking on thin ice. Sirius' expression was stormy, eyes scanning him intently as if he could read the answers he wanted right off of Regulus’ face. He turned away, heart thudding as if Sirius actually could. 

“It’s not whatever you are thinking,” he deflected, standing up and wiping off his coat. Coldness settled into his bones, sending a shiver down his body. “Just stay out of it, please? I can fuck whoever I want to fuck. We aren’t—This,” he gestured between the two of them, “ isn’t a thing, Sirius. I forgive you if it’s what you need, but you can’t just waltz back into my life and pretend everything’s fine. We haven’t been brothers in years—not really.”

Sirius flinched at his words. Regulus knew they had hurt him—he had meant for them to. 

“I’m going to find my friends, but I’ll… I’ll see you around, I suppose,” he said half-heartedly, interrupting whatever Sirius had been about to say. He walked away from him quickly, shoving down the pang of regret that hit him for ending the first conversation they’d had in years.  

Sirius is the one who left, he reminded himself thoroughly. He felt off-kilter, their conversation playing over and over again in his head. 

What the hell had he meant by all that?

His friends were still in Madam Puddifoot’s when he entered her shoppe. He stood by the counter absent-mindedly as she prepared him a cup of tea. She was watching him curiously as she worked, eyes lighting up suddenly like a cat spotting a bird. 

“Valentine’s Day is around the corner,” she said chirpily. He nodded, aware. 

“This is the finest place to bring someone on Valentine’s Day,” she said more forcefully. Again, he nodded in agreement, his mind elsewhere. It likely was, he was sure. 

“It’s a good way to show a loved one how much you care,” she snapped, placing his cup of tea a bit too forcefully on the counter so that it sloshed over the edge. He looked at her in surprise, startled out of his thoughts. She nodded at him firmly, her expression fierce. 

Oh!

She knew—he had no idea how, but she knew he'd gotten himself a partner. She had to be a Seer, Regulus determined. How else had she possibly figured him out again? 

“It’s a bit public,” was all that he offered in apology. 

“I have a private room in the back,” she prattled on, voice chirpy again. "I’ll have it ready for, say, seven o’clock?"

He got the sense he didn't have much of an option.

Regulus almost tried to decline again, but he hadn’t come up with any plans for James yet, and he knew James was likely to go full out. He was a complete sap—it'd honestly be out of character for him not to. Regulus had been nervous thinking about the holiday, coming up short on what he could do to show his appreciation to someone who meant so much to him. Madam Puddifoot's was usually the place to be on February fourteenth, and if she was offering him a private room...   

Well, he knew they had a certain Invisibility Cloak at their disposal, too.

“Er—alright then,” he agreed hastily, practically running away as she smiled in satisfaction. 

Merlin have mercy, he hoped it wasn’t going to be a bust. 

Chapter Text

James paced in The Room, his fingers tapping his thigh with each step in nervous energy. He’d arrived early, making sure to give himself extra time to hide Regulus' gifts for a surprise later in the night. The Room must’ve picked on his subliminal thoughts, however, because when he summoned it, it didn’t look anything like it normally did. 

It was a disaster. The Room had utterly betrayed him, warping itself into something unrecognisable. 

No, the only thing that remained its normal self was the fireplace. Now, it was all red and pink, with dark undertones of purple in some places. White flower petals trailed from the doorway to a bed, which had a large heart-shaped headboard and at least thirty pillows on it. The record player was already playing some sort of jazz, and there were floating candles providing the utmost sensual lighting in the small, bedroom-sized space. 

James had a fucking heart attack when he first walked in. He tried leaving and entering The Room several times, swearing to it on his mother’s life he wanted nothing more than the cluttered Muggle room back, but it didn’t seem to believe him. The weird swing from the ceiling that had initially been there vanished, as well as the water fountain, but it seemed stubborn to change any further. He had crawled on the floor in desperation to try to pick up the flower petals, but minutes later, sweaty and having made no progress, he gave up.  

He slapped his hands against his forehead as he paced in distress, skewing his glasses. He looked so stupid! How could this happen on today of all days? Regulus was going to think he was a perv, and he was practically defenceless to deny it. Yeah, he had been thinking about sex a bit more than he used to, but he was a teenager, for Merlin’s sake—that didn't mean he wanted some sort of brothel! He had just wanted a nice Valentine’s Day date with his partner and a cosy, normal room for them to spend their time together. 

Finally, the door opened, and Regulus walked in, his eyes widening a comical amount. 

“It was an accident!” James shouted in a panic.

Regulus looked around, barely managing to shut the door before bursting into laughter. “What have you done to The Room?” he howled in mock anguish, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. James stood frozen in horror as he was ridiculed.

“It’s so—" Regulus couldn’t even get a sentence out, tears streaming down his face as he laughed. James had never seen Regulus lose control over something like this; his entire body was shaking with glee in a completely undignified manner, his laughs so loud and entertained it was nearly childish.

“I didn’t mean to!“ James whined, begging him to understand. He closed the distance between them and brought a hand on either side of Regulus’ face, forcing him to look at him. “It was an accident,” he explained, their noses just inches apart. 

Regulus’ face was red as he gasped for air. “I can’t believe you,” he chortled, still not getting a hold of himself yet. “It’s just—it’s so ugly,” he managed to choke out. “You’ve destroyed our room!” 

James couldn't help but chuckle at his indignation. He kissed him quickly, since they were in perfect position for that anyway, and then he took a step back. In James' panic, he hadn’t even gotten a good look at Regulus. He looked...

He looked like a model.

It should be a crime how good he looked in his suit. His jacket was left unbuttoned, showing off how the black vest underneath hugged his waist tightly, and a silver chain of what he had to guess to be a pocket watch was pinned across it. His entire suit was Muggle-influenced, James realised, thrilled, the jacket just to Regulus' hips with no frills or flamboyant additions. His hair was neatly pushed back off his face with some sort of gel, his curls perfectly manicured.

“You look—" James tried to say, gesturing to his body incoherently. “You look amazing,” he finally managed to get out. 

Regulus' cheeks were still a bit pink from his laugh attack, but James was certain that they would’ve become that colour anyway as he smiled abashedly to the ground, shifting his weight nervously. When he looked up again, his eyes were twinkling. 

“You look amazing, too,” Regulus breathed, finally collected. He bit his lip indecisively, hesitating just for a second before taking a quick step towards James and pushing himself up on his toes to give him another kiss. 

James swooned. He didn’t think he looked anywhere near as good as Regulus, but he’d put on his newest suit he had tailored just the year before, and he’d borrowed Sirius’ bolo tie, bought from a Muggle market over the summer. Regulus snatched James' glasses off his face after he lowered himself back to the ground, cleaning them with a handkerchief he’d produced from his pocket.

“The reservation is for seven,” Regulus said matter-of-factly as he returned them, smudgeless. ”You have the Cloak?”

James nodded happily, still a bit speechless. Regulus had officially asked him on a date exactly a week ago, promising he knew a safe spot they could go for Valentine’s Day. James wasn’t sure how he could’ve swung that, but he was excited to see where they’d end up. He'd never thought he'd be the one getting surprised on a date; it made him giddy just thinking about it.

The Cloak covered the both of them with just a bit of a squeeze. James used it as an excuse to keep his hands on Regulus' shoulders as he guided them to the secret passage to Hogsmeade. They switched to walking side by side in the security of the tunnel, taking off the Cloak for the trek. 

“We could sleep together tonight? Since we’ve got a bed and all that,” James whispered as they transversed through the passageway. It’d be nice to spend the night together and not wake up sore from being squished on the couch, James had thought. 

Regulus gave him a nervous smile. “It did look rather comfortable,” he said. James grinned.

As they climbed out of the well the tunnel connected to, just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, Regulus scooted in close to him so they could both squeeze under the Cloak again. “This is really fun,” James whispered, enjoying the adventure.

He could almost feel Regulus rolling his eyes. “This might be stupid,” he warned, so James squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He knew Regulus had been nervous about his plan: he’d been downplaying it the entire week, trying to make James have low expectations. James was certain whatever it was, though, he’d love, no matter how silly or stupid.

He was surprised when they approached Madam Puddifoot’s, stopping on the other side of the road from it. Inside was packed, with couples practically spilling out the doorway, trying to get a seat. 

“What are we doing?” James asked after a moment, a bit impatiently. 

“Er—" Regulus stammered, his shoulders rising toward his ears under James' hands.

Just then, 'Enter Here' appeared on the alleyway wall in bubbling cursive, coloured a glowing florescent pink. An arrow looped under it, pointing to the back.

“Well, we were just waiting for that,” Regulus said. 

James resisted the urge to snort. That was so not planned. 

He followed Regulus down the alley to the back of the shoppe. Regulus ducked out from under the Cloak, motioning for James to do the same. 

“Maybe we should leave," Regulus said uncertainly, looking stressed. "This was dumb. I’m not sure—" 

Just then, the door burst open, and the most frilly woman James had ever seen was ushering them inside. “Seven pm, Regulus! Your reservation was for seven, not six-fifty-five! I was hardly ready for you!”

Regulus sputtered out an apology as the short and rather stout women guided them into the small room. James smiled incredulously, taking it all in while Regulus was practically shoved towards their table, still being scolded. 

It was very chic: the walls were all black, and the floor was marble, coloured a deep maroon, with abstract paintings littering the walls, all in black and white. The room was lit by low candlelight, and a single booth occupied the corner, with a glass table and velvet seats. A violin played a slow, soothing song, charmed by the fireplace, which crackled warmly. As James joined Regulus at the table, its rounded shape allowing them to sit easily next to each other, some paper cranes flew by overhead. 

“This is amazing,” James gushed, sliding in closer. Regulus looked very overwhelmed and helpless, but he nodded astutely at his praise, taming his expression.

“This is very wonderful, Madam, I appreciate your efforts,” he said politely, adjusting his collar. James took a moment to admire how his attire matched the style of the room effortlessly. It was as if it were designed for him. 

The lady hummed appreciatively, whipping out a notepad. She scrutinised James while it hovered beside her, a floating quill posed to write. “It was about time one of you brought a partner here—" She said finally, seeming to have found whatever she was looking for in his expression. "Love is the most powerful form of magic, my entire livelihood, and yet it took you two whole years,” she scolded.

Regulus bit his lip shyly. “Well, I didn’t meet him until this year,” he explained. “And we just started dating after the break.”

Madam Puddifoot rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, of course, I know that dear.”

James blinked, glancing between Regulus and the woman a few times. “Do you guys know each other?” he wondered aloud. Regulus looked bemused. 

“She knows us,” he said vaguely. James looked at him curiously, but he didn't seem to feel the need to elaborate. It seemed to please Madam Puddifoot, however, and she nodded in agreement.

“Valentine's Day special is roast duck,” she said business-like, continuing as if nothing had happened. “Served with potatoes and roasted vegetables. I would recommend that with the house special cocktail. 

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed immediately, grinning. She smiled right back, her rounded cheeks rosy with colour. He had a feeling she liked him, filling his chest with pride—at least one of Regulus’ friends (?) liked him. 

Regulus’ eyebrows raised. “There’s food?” he asked incredulously. 

“Well, of course, Regulus. You booked in for the Cherub’s Special,” she said pointedly, snatching the notepad out of the air and hobbling away. 

“Regulus, this is so cool,” James enthused again once they were alone, unable to contain himself. They were on a proper date—able to sit in a booth, eat food and just be together—and in the nicest place in Hogsmeade, no less. His heart had never felt so full in his life. “Thank you so much,” he said emotionally. 

“Er—right,” Regulus said, giving him a quick grin. “Least of what you deserve.”

The glasses in front of them had filled with a light pink liquid, and James picked up his glass and motioned for cheers.

“To us,” he grinned, clinking their glasses together. 

“To us,” Regulus echoed, any uneasiness in his expression finally disappearing as he broke into a smile. 

. . .

It was the best night of James’ life. 

The food was delectable—each bite made him practically moan in pleasure. The cocktail was light and easy to drink—he wondered what it was, exactly, as in no time, they were both giggling and clinging to each other in glee. Regulus admitted to having tried one of Madam Puddifoot’s liqueurs before when they’d run into each other at Hogsmeade, and James was thrilled to experience it with him. 

Dessert had been chocolate-covered strawberries, almost as if Madam Pudifoot had known and was set on torturing James. Regulus required very little convincing to indulge him, letting him hand-feed him bites between laughs and playful conversation. It was as enticing as the first time they’d done it. 

By the time Madam Puddifoot had come around with the bill, James was anxious to leave before he ended up doing something that would make her lose her respect for him. 

They were stumbling out the door, trying to navigate, slipping under the cloak when they ran into somebody. 

Into two firm somebodies. 

Even with his mind blissed out, James panicked, trying to shove Regulus behind him protectively because he could not be seen. He straightened up just in time to meet Marlene’s equally as wide eyes. 

“What the hell—" they both exclaimed.

Noting an echo, James glanced to his right, only to witness Dorcas and Regulus repeating their motions. They all glanced at each other several times, and James nearly keeled over laughing so hard. 

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, jobbing a finger at Marlene. “Dorcas was wearing YOUR tee shirt the other morning! I knew it!” 

Marlene’s mouth dropped open. “Why were you seeing Dorcas in my tee shirt!” she demanded in outrage, giving him a shove. He stumbled back a couple of steps, more than a little off-balanced. 

Dorcas gasped loudly suddenly, eyes flicking to Regulus. “Because he was walking Regulus back to his dorm! How did I miss—REGULUS, WHAT THE FUCK!”

Regulus’ mouth dropped open with an affronted gasp. “Why is that everyone’s reaction?” he complained dramatically, speech more than a little slurred.

James straightened out just in time for Marlene to piece together what was going on. “James," she said, her voice dead serious, “please tell me you are not fucking Sirius’ little brother.”

He waved her off, but Regulus was already responding. “It’s okay, he already knows,” he said airily. 

“Sirius knows?” Marlene asked in disbelief. 

James nodded, raising his eyebrows at the blonde deliberately. “Yup,” he confirmed. If anyone else could appreciate how big of a deal Sirius’ blessing was, it was Marlene. She and Sirius practically shared a brain as Beater partners and sometimes off the pitch as well. “And he’s okay with it! Who saw that coming right? Not me,” he admitted amusedly. 

Regulus moved his head in dopey agreement, eyes unfocused. “Not me,” he echoed with a laugh. 

Fuck, we are drunk, James realised in a sudden moment of clarity. He glanced over to Regulus, who was looking around the street dazed. When their eyes met each other, they widened comically, laughter erupting from James' chest at Regulus' innocent expression.

We really need to get back to the castle, he thought fleetingly, clutching his stomach.

“How long?” Dorcas was questioning Regulus when James managed to get ahold of himself.

He shrugged. “Since September, I guess,” he said slowly as if he were pondering it. 

James couldn’t help but grin at him. He was so fucking cute. 

Regulus glanced at him, eyes widened and cheeks already turning red as he bit his lip shyly. Had he said that out loud?

Dorcas snorted, shaking her head. “You guys are hammered.”

James nodded in agreement, throwing an arm around Regulus to pull him against his chest. He rested his head on his shoulder. “We really, really are,” he agreed, kissing his neck fondly.

Regulus squirmed but didn’t move.

“Well, our reservation’s for nine,” Marlene said, giving James a cheeky grin. “Based on you two, I’d say we are in for a good night.”

“Definitely—cheers, Mar! And congrats,” James said enthusiastically. He had his suspicions before, of course, but he was so happy for his friend. Marlene had often complained about the lack of lesbians at Hogwarts and her abysmal dating pool. He was glad she found a partner that made her so obviously happy.

Regulus and Dorcas were whispering harshly to each other until her girlfriend pulled her away. James caught just the end of their conversation. “I can’t believe she got you too,” Dorcas was saying in disbelief. “I thought it was just me.”

James waved to them as they disappeared into the building, leaving them in comfortable silence. He pulled the Cloak over them snugly, not minding the excuse to stay close to Regulus for their trip back to the castle.

“I really love you, have I told you that?”

He could feel Regulus smiling. 

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it.”

. . .

“I think this room’s actually perfect,” James declared once they managed to stumble back into it. He made quirk work, shoving all the throw pillows off the bed so they could flop on it. It was at least a king-sized mattress, so they could both completely splay out and not be touching each other. 

Leaping up to shuck off all his layers but the tee shirt he’d worn under his suit and his pants, he collected the gifts he’d stowed away for Regulus earlier. 

“Present time!” he exclaimed happily. 

Regulus was in the process of unbuttoning his vest, seemingly too focused to look up. Or maybe he just hadn't heard James—James had thought he'd been pretty loud, but maybe he'd imagined it. It was no matter; he watched entranced as Regulus' long fingers worked their way from the top to the bottom, shrugging it off after he'd finished. He undid his tie next, loosening it and then flinging it to the floor. Lastly, he undid a few buttons on his dress shirt, revealing his long neck and the pale skin on his chest, untucking it from his trousers. 

James ducked his head guiltily when Regulus caught him staring. 

Oops.

“This one first,” James ordered, thrusting at him a bag. It was filled with just small gifts: a couple of new quills, an assortment of different candies, some moisturisers and hair products his dad had made. Regulus made quick work of it, exclaiming happily at each item like James had bought him a star.

Next came a square box, in it a small round mirror. “It’s two-way,” he explained quickly. “I have the other one. Me and Sirius used to use similar ones; I figured it’d be handy to stay in touch.” Regulus grinned happily, his smile a bit lopsided as he threw his arms around him in a hug. He was so unguarded and happy James wished he had a camera to capture it. 

There was still one gift left, however, and he scrambled to give it to him. 

Regulus pulled out the large jumper. 

“It’s a Muggle sweater,” James explained quickly, although he was certain Regulus would have seen one before. “I know you can’t take it home with you, but I got it in my size, so I’ll keep it safe over the hols until you can be with me for them, and then you can wear it otherwise.” Maybe it was stupid to think that Regulus might want a sweater that smelt like him, but he’d worn it a couple of times just in case.

Regulus' face lit up as he thumbed the fabric. Quickly undoing his dress shirt, Regulus pulled it off and the hoodie on in one swift motion so that James barely got to see the flat planes of his stomach. He’d gotten a bit obsessed with that area lately. Regulus hummed contently, breathing in the collar deeply. Hell yeah, James cheered internally.

“It's so soft,” he moaned, pushing the arm sleeves up just a bit so his hands would stick out, the hood still up over his head. He looked adorable. “Thank you, James,” he said seriously, reaching forward to pull him into a kiss.

James enthusiastically met him in the middle of the bed, deepening it, but Regulus gently pushed him off after just a moment. “You have to open your gift,” he said sternly, twisting to reach for his jacket on the floor. 

James loved gifts, but...

Regulus was being mean, bending over off the bed like that when he knew how turned on James was already. He flopped onto his butt, creating space between them as he tried to tame his thoughts. He was too drunk to want to have any firsts that night, and Regulus was probably too drunk for anything at all. 

He was still excited to be able to cuddle in such a comfy bed together, though. It was the best ending he could have hoped for. 

A small box was tossed onto his lap, distracting James from his thoughts entirely as he scrambled to open it. He untied the bow excitedly, grinning before he even saw what was inside. 

In it was a simple gold chain necklace with a small rectangular tag dangling from it. Looking closer, James saw the depiction of a constellation engraved on it and the word ‘Leo’ in small letters below it. 

The lion. Gryffindor. 

His eyes welled with emotion. 

“Put it on me?” he demanded softly, trying to hide the stray tear that escaped and failing miserably. Regulus nodded seriously at his request, his anxiety vanquished by James' reaction. James looked at it on his chest fondly as Regulus struggled to get it done up behind him, his heart melting. It sat right below his collarbone; it was such a delicate weight he could hardly notice it. He turned around slowly once it was on, giving Regulus a tender kiss while touching the cool metal gently with his fingers. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Regulus looked to the ground, biting his lip. “I think I’m the one that’s lucky,” he said quietly, looking up with a soft smile.

James' grin got even bigger as their eyes met if that was even possible. He felt so happy—it was like they were the only two people in the world. It was really the perfect night. He’d spent so many Valentine's Days wishing for someone special to share it with, longing for someone to love. James was glad he waited for Reg, though, after it all.

This was worth it. He, was worth it. 

“I’m really drunk,” Regulus said after a moment. 

“Me too," James admitted, tiredness washing over him. "Maybe we should go to bed?”

Regulus nodded his head in quiet agreement, looking a bit nervous as he undid his trousers and pulled off his socks. He folded his long legs under him as he slipped under the fluffy duvet, shuffling down into the bed until the blanket was up to his chin.  

James didn’t quite understand how he could sleep in a sweater, but he was glad Regulus liked his gift. He extinguished the lights before placing his wand on the bedside table and slipping under the covers. Unable to see in the dark, James wiggled until his head was on the pillow and then began scooting to Regulus’ half. He wrapped his arm around Regulus’ waist once he found him, tucking his head against his shoulder.

Regulus felt tense and uncomfortable on his back, so James nudged him to turn onto his side so they could properly spoon. Regulus resisted for a moment but, with encouragement, finally rolled onto his hip, away from James. James quickly closed the distance between them, bending his knees and angling his pelvis so he could be pressed against Regulus at every inch.

It felt like he was in a cloud—the mattress was so soft it was as if he were sinking, and the blanket around them was so puffy they were practically swimming in it. He started to doze off in seconds. 

James was drunk and tired, but his brain nudged him that something was wrong not two minutes later. 

“Reg?” he asked, his voice rough with tiredness, on the verge of sleep overtaking him completely. 

A sniffle was his only response. 

Oh—

James lifted his head in alarm, squinting to try to see in the dark. He could barely make out the outline of Regulus' hair.

“Reg, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to snuggle in even closer. The arm he had shoved above their pillows to get out of the way he snaked under Regulus' neck, feeling the wetness along his face and pillow as he wrapped him in a hug. 

“Nothing," came his broken reply. "It’s just nice.”  

James' heart shattered. 

“Aw, baby,” he said sympathetically, kissing the side of Regulus' neck and giving him another squeeze. He surrendered his arm for the night as Regulus’ pillow, knowing it’d be numb within the next couple of minutes, and bent it at his elbow to pull him firmly against his chest. “It’s so nice,” he said in agreement. “I wish I could cuddle with you every night.”

Regulus’ head nodded, but he remained silent. 

James held onto him tightly, slowly losing the battle to sleep himself. One day, we’ll get to do this every night, he thought. One day, they could go on dates and not need to sneak around; he could love Regulus in all the ways he wanted to, and every night, he could cuddle him and make him feel safe. 

One day.  

Chapter Text

As the weeks passed, winter transformed into spring. The snow melted from the ground, replaced by singing tulips and honking daffodils, and the days started to stretch as the nights grew shorter, the sun melting the ice over the Black Lake. There were just over three weeks until Regulus would have to go home, and he spent every moment preparing for it. 

Everything was going so well—he felt motivated like never before. His plan had to work. It had to. 

“Do you want to keep practising?”

The duelling room in the dungeons had become a hang-out spot of sorts. They’d made it more comfortable, with a circle of chairs and couches in one corner and even a soft carpet. Pandora had been the one to transfigure most of the furniture, making the space feel cosy despite being in the dungeons.

She hung out with them often as of late, not to practice her offensive magic but to work on her other projects and prepare for her N.E.W.T.s. Apparently, it was the only place where she was able to study distraction-free. Pandora had become interested in magical theory, working on a thesis testing the limitations of basic charms. She was lying on one of the couches now, chewing on a strand of her hair while researching.

“Just a bit more?” Regulus said, wiping sweat from his brow. He had been duelling with Dorcas, the struggle to get the upper hand against her obvious by Regulus' aching muscles and his drenched shirt. She had always been a prodigy at defence, and while Regulus had been trained in duelling for years, Dorcas was someone he still hadn't managed to beat yet, no matter how hard he tried. 

Being a year older than them and having friends of her age, her presence had always been a bit inconsistent, but this year, she seemed to have drifted apart even further from them. It was nice to see her again with some regularity, and she brought with her text and ideas for them to continue to expand their practice, something which was Regulus' priority these days. 

When asked about her sudden enthusiasm in duelling, her pointed response was that she was planning on becoming an Auror. It was then that Regulus realised her drifting wasn’t a coincidence—she hadn’t expected them to react well to her plans, which was why she hadn’t told them the year before when she’d had her career interview.

She’d been surprised when they’d accepted it without argument, except for Barty, of course, who did throw a fit. He hated the Ministry, and he hated Aurors, but that wasn’t news, and it wasn’t for the same reasons she had expected Evan and Regulus to reject her over it. For them, she had assumed a difference in core values, something a friendship couldn't survive. 

They couldn’t tell her their plans, but in their acceptance of her, some form of rope had been tossed because she began hanging out with them more often again. Regulus hadn’t realised just how much their position, or assumed position, was affecting the way those around them treated him. She even told them about Marlene, although Regulus already knew about that, of course. 

“We’ve been going for hours,” she commented, looking a bit bored. 

Regulus shrugged, shifting his weight. He was practising every spare minute he had; every second might make a difference.

“Even longer,” Pandora said, flipping the page of her book. “He was practising with Evan before you showed up.”

“Regulus!” Dorcas scolded, folding her arms across her chest. “Have you even eaten supper yet? We have to get ready for the party soon!”

Oh yeah, the party. 

It was Remus’ birthday. James practically spent the last week on his hands and knees, begging for Regulus to come. He’d had an argument prepared for every excuse Regulus could come up with.

No one would want me there. 

I do, Reg, and Remus does too! He thinks you’re great.

I don’t know anyone.

You know me! And Remus. And Lily. And Dorcas is coming too!

I don’t do parties.

Neither does Remus! We are just going to have some snacks and hang out. It’ll be chill!

I can’t just walk into the Gryffindor common room.

Dorcas and Pandora do all the time! And they’ll both be there.

I don’t think it's a good idea.

Please! It’d mean so much to me.  

What if it gets back to my parents?

It won’t! The Gryffindor tower is safe; nothing Sirius has ever done in there has gotten back to your family.

He’d lost the argument, obviously. Maybe he could still feign sickness, though?

“Reg, it’ll be okay. I’ll stay by your side the whole time,” Dorcas promised, giving him an encouraging smile. He bit his lip. He wasn’t sure that’d help him, not unless Dorcas was planning on speaking for him the entire night, too. 

“Me too,” Pandora said calmly, coming up to join their group from the couches. It didn't make him feel any better, either. 

He’d be there as Remus’ friend, so he couldn’t speak to James. Not in the way he’d grown used to, at least. It’d be him and a group of people who all knew each other much better than they knew him. A party would be better, honestly. At least then he could hang out by the wall, and no one would notice if he was being weird. 

He hadn't eaten supper yet, and he wasn't going to. His stomach was in knots; just the thought of food made the back of his throat burn. 

“Go shower, and meet us at the Ravenclaw tower for seven,” Dorcas said encouragingly. She was going to get dressed with Pandora in her dorms. “We’ll go in together!”

Right, he thought, but he didn’t even bother to say it out loud.

As the girls parted ways, he found himself unwilling to return to his dorm quite yet. Instead, he went outside into the cool air, sitting on the ground just outside the main doors. Taking in a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes; he had a bit of extra time before he would need to get ready.

It’s just a party—it’ll be fine, he told himself. You’ve been to parties loads of times, and none of them have killed you. 

Yeah—but none have been with James’ friends, a voice in the back of his head reminded him dutifully. 

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He actually cared about what the people who would be there thought of him. He wanted them to like him. He wanted James to be proud of him, to look at Regulus and think that he was everything he wanted.

A familiar black shadow trotted up to him no longer than a few minutes after he’d sat down. He scratched the dog in greeting as it stopped in front of him, its yellow eyes looking concerned. It let out a low whine.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, perhaps succumbing to insanity as he spoke to a dog. “I’m just nervous. I hate parties.”

The dog seemed to huff in agreement, lying on the ground and resting its oversized head on his lap. Regulus focused on petting it, trying not to let his worries overwhelm him. The dog had been showing up everywhere lately, not that he was going to complain; its presence was calming, and just petting it sometimes was enough to slow his heart rate and settle his nerves. He’d love to have a pet one day, a dog or a cat like Pip. He couldn’t right now—he wouldn’t want any animal to have to face his home or the people that haunted there—but maybe in the future.

Maybe he and James could get a kitten or a puppy after school. 

He smiled, thinking about the idea fondly. He found himself dreaming about the future more and more recently, and not in a dismal sort of way. 

“Well, I guess I should get ready," Regulus sighed grudgingly as the shadows grew longer around him. "Wish you could come,” he muttered to the dog, who scrambled to his feet at the same time he did. It barked gruffly, almost like a laugh, before scampering out of view, darting up the stairs as soon as Regulus opened the door. 

. . .

Regulus adjusted his shirt uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure why he let Barty convince him to wear his clothes. He’d argued against it vehemently, planning on wearing what he always wore—his school robes—but then Evan voiced his agreement with Barty’s outfit suggestion, and he’d been outnumbered.

It wasn’t anything outrageous, just a black button-up and some tapered trousers, but the shirt was a stiffer fabric than he was used to that scratched his skin, and he felt exposed without his normal layers on. He was pretty sure the shirt was even a bit translucent in the light, but when he tried to point it out, Evan and Barty both scolded him for being paranoid and forced him out of the dorm.

He was pacing in front of the Ravenclaw tower, waiting for the girls to arrive. He had stopped to check his watch for the umpteenth time when the door clicked open finally, drawing his attention. He did a double-take when he saw his friends—they were both beautiful, but rarely had he seen them so done up before.

“Reg! Don’t you look dapper,” Dorcas complimented, greeting him with a flash of white teeth. She, oddly, wore Muggles clothes—a keyhole shirt with lantern sleeves, coloured black with an intricate gold pattern, and tucked in at her waist to black flared jeans. Pandora looked the opposite beside her, wearing a more traditional dress with layered fringes of orange and yellow. On her head was a delicate crown of flowers.

“Thank you,” he responded stiffly, “You both look beautiful.” They really did. He was sure he’d all but disappear from beside them, which he didn’t mind one bit. They traversed the castle quickly, Regulus falling into step beside them while they chatted to each other excitedly. 

He knew the Gryffindor common room password as a Prefect, letting them enter without delay. Climbing into the space revealed behind the Fat Lady’s portrait swinging open, he could feel his heart trying to escape his chest. This is so stupid, he scolded himself. So stupid—

It wasn’t as much of a party as it was a hangout, just as James had said. There were no yelling voices or dancing bodies, just a group of students all sitting near the fire, talking amongst themselves. Regulus' hands betrayed him and trembled at his sides as they approached. His eyes found James first, drawn there by familiarity, only to find James already watching him with a smile. He was sitting on the couch next to Sirius, who was half-smothering him in his attempt to get Remus' attention and didn't seem to notice the new guests at all.

The room felt much too small, and before Regulus knew it, he was at the group. He tried to quickly calculate where to sit, his brain finding fault with each available spot, while Dorcas and Pandora effortlessly seemed to be absorbed into the conversation and people. Before he knew it, he was on the far side of the circle they'd formed, unable to go any further without having just walked by them completely.

“Happy Birthday, Remus,” Regulus said quickly, giving a tight smile and plopping himself on the ground right next to the fireplace, away from everyone else. It seemed like the only safe bet.

“Hey, Regulus,” James greeted from across the carpet with a happy wave. Regulus jerked his head quickly towards him in acknowledgement, giving James a nervous smile. His stomach twisted into a knot as he noticed people's eyes on him. He looked to the ground, rubbing his palms on the legs of his trousers. What the hell were you thinking—who sits on the floor? he thought spitefully. He should’ve sat closer to Remus or James at least to talk, but he didn’t want James to think he was being too clingy. He forced himself to look up again, getting little reassurance from the fact most people's interest had seemed to wane and were focused on each other again. 

Lily—beautiful, amazing, perfect Lily—was his saving grace. “Hey, Regulus!” she greeted, appearing from the door he guessed led to the girls' dorms. As she sat down beside him, speaking to him freely, the breath he’d been holding released in relief. Thank Merlin.

As everyone settled into cheerful conversation around them, Regulus struggled to concentrate on what Lily said, with bits of other people's conversations seeming loud in his ears. Even with the attention off of him, he found it hard to relax. He was just considering how long he’d have to stay before it would be socially acceptable to leave when Rhys arrived. Marlene clapped her hands together, standing from her seat.

“Okay, perfect! Now that we are all here to celebrate our dear friend Remus, let the fun begin!”

The fun, it turned out, was a Muggle game Marlene and Lily had organised for the evening. Someone put on music, and the girls handed on square pieces of paper to everyone. “To start,” Marlene announced theatrically, “Music bingo!”

After a quick explanation, they began. Regulus concentrated on marking the squares on his game board as the songs came on, biting his lip nervously. He was aware of James glancing at him, but he just tried to give him a reassuring smile every time he caught his eye. He knew he was supposed to be socialising, and one-on-one with any of the people here would’ve been fine, but in the group, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. By the time the conversation seemed to ebb, someone would speak before he got the chance, and it’d pick up in a different direction. He just focused on the game instead, grateful for something to hide behind. 

“I think Muggles have the best music,” Pandora said directly to him after a while, folding her legs under herself to sit next to him. Lily had gotten up to help Marlene switch the records and run the game a while before, leaving him alone in the space he'd carved out for himself. 

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, nodding his head. He listened intently as she tried to explain her latest theory about the Levitation Charm and why it was wizards couldn’t use it on themselves. It was very interesting—he never really considered what limitations in magic existed or why. As she spoke, he tried to guess the names of the songs playing in the background. Sometimes, people would shout them out, and other times, he was able to guess based on their lyrics. He wasn't familiar with Muggle music, but he had to agree with Pandora—it maybe was the best he'd heard before. 

Lily rejoined them on the floor not long after as Marlene took back over rotating the records.

“Your hair is so beautiful,” she complimented Pandora, who instinctively ran a hand through it. She had a single simple braid in it, framing her face, but the rest was left down and styled so it cascaded over his shoulders in loose waves. 

“Thank you!” she beamed. “That's the best compliment, especially coming from you. I’ve always been jealous of your natural colour.”

Lily blushed. “I used to hate it,” she admitted. “I thought red hair and freckles were the worst thing to be stuck with, but I like it now.”

“Good," Pandora smiled. "You are way too pretty to be thinking like that.”

Regulus’ eyes widened at Lily’s deepening blush. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked downwards, her mouth curved in a smile. After a moment, she looked back up to Pandora, biting her lip shyly. She looked uncharacteristically lost for words, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously in the silence.

“Your earrings are stunning!” Pandora exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward to look at them. Lily showed them off proudly, turning her head so the other girl could admire them more closely. The light from the fire caught on them, making the gold flash brilliantly.

“Regulus gave them to me,” Lily bragged, smiling at Regulus. 

“Regulus did?” Marlene chimed in, looking surprised from across the room. A few faces glanced over at her loud voice, following her gaze to Regulus.

Oh no.

“He did, he’s got fabulous taste,” Dorcas added supportively, and Regulus wanted to set her on fire. Slowly but steadily, everyone’s attention was landing on him again, looking at him expectantly. 

Say something! he thought, but his brain was completely blank. He averted his gaze from the group, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying to force his voice to work. C'mon, he encouraged himself desperately, staring at the ground as the seconds passed. Just say something!

“Oh hell—!” Everyone’s heads snapped toward the yell. Sirius was holding a half-exploded can over James, whose hair and face were dripping wet. “Oops,” he said with a wince. 

James was staring at him in shock. “You did that on purpose!” he accused. 

“Why would I do that?” Sirius denied, looking offended. Regulus' shoulders relaxed as everyone laughed at the scene, forgetting about him entirely. James ran his hand through his thick curls, frowning at the pop that dripped from it. Regulus cringed sympathetically—that was probably going to be sticky as hell. Sirius whispered something to James then, and they both ran out of the room just a moment later. 

He tried to ignore the fleeting panic that filled his chest with James’ disappearance. Regulus knew almost everyone in the room, but James' presence had been like a safety blanket. Beside him, Lily pulled Pandora to her feet, excusing them so she could show the blonde the Gryffindor record collection. Regulus tapped his fingers on his knee as he was left alone once again, deciding if he should stand up to try to join one of the social circles, or just remain safely in his spot out of the way. 

He eyed the door to the common room. Or maybe he could just sneak out now...

Just then, Sirius returned, dumping several bags of candy and chips on the coffee table and throwing a chocolate bar at Remus. He scanned the room once his hands were empty, mouth quirking in amusement when his eyes landed on Regulus.

“You know, if you don’t want people’s attention on you, you should probably stop dressing like a tramp,” Sirius said in lieu of a greeting, trotting over to him and dropping to his side.

Regulus looked at him incredulously. “I am not dressed like a tramp!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “You literally have two buttons undone.”

Regulus raised his hand to his throat self-consciously, fiddling with the open collar. Another one of Barty’s fashion decisions he’d made for him for the night—apparently, it was lame to button up a shirt properly if you weren’t wearing a tie. He disagreed, but Barty charmed the button holes closed so he would have no choice but to follow his advice. 

“Barty said it looked better,” he said uneasily. 

Beside him, Sirius barked out a laugh. “Merlin, Reg, I was kidding! You look fine. I just—" He looked a bit sympathetic. "You looked a bit like you were drowning a bit back there.”

He frowned, trying to figure out what Sirius had meant when it clicked. “You dumped the drink on James on purpose,” he realised. He’d made a distraction for him, running interference like he had when they were kids. 

Sirius shrugged noncommittally. “He deserved it,” he commented, tone joking. “I didn’t like the look he’d been giving you. Like you were some piece of meat. If I left it any longer, he was likely to start drooling.”

Despite himself, Regulus chuckled. He doubted that was the case, but he was glad of Sirius nonetheless.

Never able to sit still, Sirius picked up his bingo card from the ground examining it. He looked at Regulus with a frown. “You won bingo three times over,” he scolded. "Why didn't you call it?"

At some point, when no one had won yet, people forgot about the game—it seemed James’ friends had attention spans as short as his own. Regulus had won, he was pretty sure, but he didn’t bother announcing it. He wasn't positive he understood the rules of the game or that he'd gotten the names of any of the songs right. When he explained the same to Sirius, however, he shook his head at him judgmentally.

“You really are the weirdest fucking person on the planet, you know that?" he said, tearing up the bingo sheet as if to discard the evidence. "I can’t believe we’re related.”

Regulus scowled. “Oh, piss off. You don’t need to babysit me." Everyone was loitering in smaller groups, standing, all but unaware of the two brothers on the ground. 

Sirius shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’m not babysitting, Reg—I’m just hanging out. Don’t overthink it.”

Regulus bit back his retort, fuming silently instead. He was glad to have someone to talk to, even if it was Sirius just incessantly bullying him. 

Remus joined their little huddle moments later, grinning. Regulus was glad to see he was having a fun time. He reached into his back pocket to hand him an envelope. “Happy birthday,” he said again, giving him his gift. “Thank you for having me.”

Remus gave him a warm smile. “'Course." He opened the envelope, pulling out a small booklet. “What’s this?” he asked, flipping through the sheets. 

“Coupons,” Regulus supplied. He’d looked ahead in the calendar and marked down every full moon that coincided with Remus’ Prefect duties or the day following. There were only two left in the year, but he added another five for next year as well, figuring there’d be a good chance a few would overlap then. “For Prefect duties.”

“Is this Monopoly money?” Remus asked, amused. Regulus nodded. He was going to transfigure something more official, but it was all the same, really. He'd written their values on the back of each piece with ink, "One Night Patrol Round", before sticking them together at one end to make a book.

Remus laughed softly. “Alright, thank you. I’ll be taking you up on these.”

Sirius reached forward to grab the packet. He examined the money curiously. 

“Do Muggles accept Monopoly money, too?” 

Remus laughed. “No, it’s just for the board game. Or for Prefect duties, now, I suppose.”

Regulus felt his lip turn up, glad he got it. He and James had never managed to finish Monopoly anyway—the money would get better use out here with Remus.

Just then, James returned, hair still wet, but this time with what Regulus had to guess was water from a shower. He was wearing a knitted tan pullover with a white collar sticking out from under. He looked very cute, especially how his face lit up when he saw Regulus.

He squeezed into the spot between Remus and himself, not so accidentally half-sitting on him in the process. Regulus didn’t mind the warm contact. 

“How’s it going?” he asked, eyes twinkling. He didn't even bother to look at anyone else in the circle when he asked it, his attention trained on Regulus. 

Regulus worried they were being too obvious for half a moment, but then he realised almost everyone here knew about them already. Of course, some stragglers were passing through the common room and others stopping to hang out, but all the Marauders already knew, and Marlene and Dorcas as well. 

“Good, I think,” he said uncertainly. James busied himself with wiping residual wetness off of his glasses but, after a moment, handed them over in defeat. Regulus readjusted to pull the handkerchief he’d started carrying for this very reason out. With small circles, he dried both lenses to perfection, only handing them back for James to put on when every smudge was gone. 

“You lads want a swing?”

Rhys had joined their group, filling the spot between Remus and Sirius as he offered out a cool blue-coloured potion. Regulus felt Sirius bristle beside him, his face morphing into a scowl. 

“You don’t need to get high every single night, y’know?” he scorned. James sighed audibly. 

“It’s not every single night,” Rhys defended with an eye-roll. “It’s Remus’ birthday. Since when’d you turn into such a wet blanket?”

Regulus glanced over at James at the obvious tension, who gave him a half-shrug as if to say, 'Just ignore it.'

“I’m not a wet blanket,” Sirius scoffed. “Just not a fuckin’ burnout.”

Rhys’ face darkened, but before he could respond, Remus leaned forward and snagged the bottle. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said jovially, giving Sirius a stern look. Sirius flinched, having the decency to look embarrassed, as he directed his gaze to the ground. He played with the laces of his boots, not raising his eyes again for a moment too long. 

"I uh—yeah, I think I’m gay. I haven’t really said it before," Sirius' confession echoed in his mind. Regulus looked between Sirius and Remus a few more times, resisting the urge to sigh. 

Since when were Gryffindors so helpless? Sirius was the most sought-after wizard in the school—surely he had to realise that? Rhys and Remus, not so secretly, had been sleeping together for at least half the year, so he did sympathise with his brother's plight. But if Sirius tried, instead of just moping about it like a sad little Hufflepuff, he would be able to get him. He could date anyone he wanted. Besides, Remus obviously wasn’t into Rhys too much, or else they’d be dating by now.

Frank Longbottom, who notoriously was a bit of burnout, albeit a very high-functioning one, approached the group for a swing as well. He passed it to James, who took a quick sip. 

“Want any?” he offered to Regulus. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him; Regulus sipped it carefully before he could overthink it. If James was doing it, he was sure it would be alright. It tasted delicious, like fizzing blueberries. 

He passed it on to Sirius next, who had a healthy chug despite his earlier complaints. 

Regulus settled into his spot, anxiously awaiting for the effects to kick in. He’d never taken euphoria potions before, but everyone always looked pretty happy on them. Maybe it’d help him loosen up, he thought hopefully.

. . . 

“She’s so perfect.”

“So perfect.”

“She’s the softest thing alive.”

“And cute!”

“And the cutest thing alive.” 

Pip was on Regulus’ lap, purring and practically doing somersaults in her desperation for more pets. James was on his knees beside him, using both his hands to scratch her neck and the base of her tail in rotation. 

Regulus couldn’t believe how fast she grew. He had to tell Evan.

“Are you guys okay?” Violet asked uncertainly at their yammering. Regulus tried to keep a straight face and nod seriously, but he burst out in a giggle by accident. He felt fucking great, actually. 

“I can’t believe she’s real,” James was almost crying, looking up at Regulus in pain. 

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he agreed softly. “She’s perfect.”

He wasn’t exactly sure how they ended up in the hallway with Violet, but she’d seen Regulus and immediately went to find Pip for him. They hadn’t been able to leave this spot since. 

“I love her so much,” Violet piped up in agreement. “Thank you, Regulus.”

He shook his head. “It was Evan,” he said adamantly. 

Violet smirked. “He said you’d say that, but to thank you anyway.”

“You kids doing okay up here?”

Marlene’s face peered around the corner, laughing when she saw them. Dorcas came up the stairs next, followed by Pandora.

Lily and Sirius stumbled after them, coming up the rear, both laughing and shoving at each other to get out of the way. There was a loud thud as Sirius tripped into the wall, feet pointing to the ceiling as he fell head first.

“Of course, you’d be with the cat,” Dorcas laughed knowingly, squatting down beside him to pet Pip a couple of times. “Me and Pandora were going to head out soon, ready to go?”

Regulus nodded. Since taking the potion, he and James had snuck off practically on their own. It’d been a lot of fun, even when people joined them, the potion made his anxiety non-existent. He didn’t speak too much to anyone but James, but he didn’t feel flustered over it. He didn’t think anyone cared. 

He passed the kitten onto James' lap after a quick goodbye.

“See ya around, Bambi,” James said cheekily, making him blush. 

Regulus stood and turned, nearly running into Lily. She helped keep him upright with her hands on his shoulders, her eyes widened, and lips slightly parted. “Bambi?” she half whispered, suddenly a wide grin spreading across her face. “You’re Bambi?” she repeated, ducking in closer to Regulus so only he could hear. His eyebrows rose guiltily, but she hugged him before he could respond. 

He had no idea how, but she’d figured it out from James slip-up. 

“It’s okay,” she added, whispering in his ear. “I won’t say anything.”

He felt relief flood over him. It wasn't just his secret getting out that made him panic—it was fear of Lily hating him when she realised who James had rejected her for. To hear her support made his eyes burn to think about it, blinking it away firmly.

Dorcas kissed Marlene firmly on the lips, saying goodbye, Sirius wolf-whistling from the ground where he’d apparently given up. No one else even batted an eyelash. Regulus grinned at Dorcas, who so obviously was smitten with her girlfriend. He wished he could’ve done that with James.

“C'mon, let’s go!” Dorcas said, grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the hallway. Pandora followed behind them, waving her goodbyes as they made their exit. 

“It was good, right, Reg? You had fun?”

He nodded, the quiet of the hallway a reprieve after the constant volume in the Gryffindor house of people yelling and music blaring. “As long as I don’t have to do it anytime soon again,” he said jokingly. 

It had been a lot of fun, though, he decided. He would do it again if James wanted him to. A bit of discomfort would always be worth it to make him smile. 

. . . 

The next morning, Regulus found himself sitting at breakfast, head a bit sluggish from the potion last night. Dorcas was across from him, her head dropped into her arms, and Evan and Barty by his sides. 

A large black eagle owl landed in the middle of them suddenly, interrupting their meal. It wasn’t his father's owl, but it was a near-carbon copy. Regulus' mind perked up immediately, alarm ringing through him.  

He retrieved the letter from its leg anxiously, unfolding it with careful movements. 

Regulus,

I formally invite you to a luncheon at the Malfoy Manor during your upcoming holidays on Wednesday, April 13th. It is my pleasure to be hosting some of the most influential members of our time, and will be an uncanny networking opportunity for you. Lord Black has already given his blessing regarding the matter. Please RVSP at your earliest convenience. 

The black owl had remained, staring at him with its large yellow eyes. He supposed it was told to wait until he agreed. 

It is my understanding that another Hogsmeade weekend is coming once again upon Hogwarts—it is my recommendation you focus on your studies instead. Unnecessary distractions can be fatal, especially in your O.W.L. year.

All the best,

Lucius

Regulus blinked at the letter and its thinly veiled meanings. 

“Oh, fuck…” Evan said from beside him. They glanced at each other in concern. 

An attack was planned for Hogsmeade. 

Chapter Text

"Hello?"

James startled as Regulus’ voice suddenly cut through the silence of the room. He looked around in confusion for a moment before he remembered the mirror. Since he had gifted it to Regulus on Valentine’s Day, they had used it every evening to say goodnight to each other but never spontaneously during the day.

“Reg?” James asked while grabbing the mirror out from under his pillow, tossing the book he'd been reading aside. Sirius looked up from cleaning his broomstick on the bed next to him, frowning. Regulus’ face was inexpressive when James finally unburied it. He held it close enough that James couldn't see where he was exactly, but based on the green background, he imagined in his dorm.

“Yeah, er—do you think you can meet me somewhere?”

There was harsh whispering on the other side of the mirror James couldn’t make out. Regulus looked to the side at someone, shaking his head adamantly, lips pursed, and eyebrows lowered defiantly. Sirius abandoned his broomstick and crawled onto James' bed to listen in. After a moment's deliberation, Regulus turned back to the mirror. 

“Our spot—do you think you can meet me at our spot before my match?”

Sirius started gesturing wildly at himself out of view of the mirror as if they were playing charades. James did his best to ignore him, his worry piqued. Regulus' voice sounded urgent. “Is everything alright?”

More harsh whispering drew Regulus' attention away from the mirror. “We agreed—“ Regulus snapped suddenly, rolling his eyes. Finally, he looked back at James. “No, not really.”

His and Sirius’ eyes met in equal concern.

“I’ll be right there,” James said, already grabbing his cloak.

. . .

James was surprised when he entered The Room to find not just Regulus but Barty and Evan there as well. They hadn’t discussed sharing it, but the concern he felt over Regulus was all-encompassing. He could only assume he needed them there as well. 

Barty and Evan had been quietly exploring The Room, looking up when he closed the door from the record player they'd been toying around with. Without a word, they gathered, with Evan joining Regulus on the floor and Barty sprawling out on the couch. James joined them, sitting beside Regulus with a concerned look. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, checking him over. He looked okay—no visible marks, at least. Just being near him settled James' anxiety, heightened since Regulus had called out for him. James quickly grabbed his hand to squeeze it, making Regulus’ lip quirk up. He squeezed it back briefly in return before letting go. 

“To be clear,” Evan said, looking at him unimpressed. His eyebrows were lowered, blue eyes devoid of any warmth. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t think you should be involved.”

Barty punched him in the arm. 

“For Merlin’s sake, Evan. We’ve gone through this all fucking week,” he groaned.

“It’s the only way,” Regulus said, his voice steady although quieter than the other boys'. They listened to him all the same. “And we can trust him,” he added, making James’ heart trill with pride.

Damn right, you can.

“I just wanted to put it on record for when it bites us in the ass,” Evan muttered. James frowned; he didn’t get why Evan hated him so much still. It was starting to irritate him, honestly. All his friends were giving Regulus an honest chance, and they had a lot more to worry about than he did.

Barty rolled his eyes and grabbed a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, tossing it on the floor. “Lucius Malfoy owled Reg,” he explained. “He alluded to an attack next weekend.” James leaned forward to reach for it. He did his best to block out their continued bickering as he unfolded it carefully and began to read.

Regulus,

I formally invite you to a luncheon at the Malfoy Manor during your upcoming holidays on Wednesday, April 13th. It is my pleasure to be hosting some of the most influential members of our time, and will be an uncanny networking opportunity for you. Lord Black has already given his blessing regarding the matter. Please RVSP at your earliest convenience. 

It is my understanding that another Hogsmeade weekend is coming once again upon Hogwarts—it is my recommendation you focus on your studies instead. Unnecessary distractions can be fatal, especially in your O.W.L. year.

All the best,

Lucius

James didn’t like the sound of that meeting. He’d been owling his parents frequently, trying to get an update on their progress in getting Regulus out of Grimmauld Place, but so far, there hadn't been any promising changes. The pressure was on—there were only two weeks until they’d all be going home, and Regulus would have to return for the spring holidays. James' hope wavered under the looming break, but that wasn't what Regulus had been trying to show him.

He focused his attention on the second half of the letter next, rereading it several times. Fatal. It certainly sounded ominous.

“You think it’s a warning?” he questioned. Everyone just looked at him like he was an idiot. He bristled, ignoring their blank stares. Right then. “Well, we have to tell someone,” he stated, eyebrows furrowing at their hold-up. 

“That’d get Regulus killed,” Evan said, giving Regulus a pointed look as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

“I’m the only one that knows,” Regulus explained patiently, twisting to scowl at Evan. James was sensing a bit of tension in the group. “They’d know it was me. Evan and the others didn’t get warnings.”

“Well, we have to do something,” James said, mind reeling. If it was a planned Death Eater attack, lives could be lost. But Regulus—

Well, he couldn’t let Regulus get hurt, either. He'd never let that happen. 

“Yeah,” Regulus agreed quietly. “We do, which is why we are telling you. We have some ideas, but we don’t have the means to pull it off by ourselves. We need help.”

Barty rolled his eyes. “Well, apparently we do,” he interrupted. 

James frowned then, eyeing the two other boys. Barty’s dad was the Head of Law Enforcement—he understood him wanting to help, maybe, but Evan…

Well, it seemed more like he would be participating in the attack than anything. 

“Why do you want to help?” he questioned carefully. The whole thing didn’t quite add up. 

He noticed as Regulus looked at his friend, his expression guilty. With a sigh, Evan raised his gaze from the ground. “Reg is our friend—we aren’t letting him do this alone.” He exhaled loudly again, straightening his shoulders. Determination settled on his expression. “And I don’t... I don’t want to be a Death Eater,” he admitted eventually. James raised his eyebrows. Oh—that was...

Well, it was good, he supposed. Surprising, but good.

“We will need the Aurors,” James repeated after a minute. He wasn’t sure what else to say regarding Evan’s admission, and he doubted Evan wanted to hear much of anything from him anyway. “It's the only way to defend Hogsmeade.” 

Regulus and Evan both looked at the ground in mirrored uncertainty, but Barty held his gaze, his fingers tapping rapidly on his thigh. “Aurors are violent fascists,” he argued, his expression flat. 

“They protect people,” James stated, temper flaring. 

“Not everyone,” Barty said evenly, his dark eyes betraying no emotion. 

James opened his mouth to retort but then held his tongue. Barty wasn’t talking about civilians or even other Ministry employees, he realised. Barty was talking about Death Eaters. James had never really considered it before—Death Eaters were just faceless villains in the war to him, but under the mask, they were humans, too. They could be Evan’s dad or Regulus’ cousins. They were their families.

The Aurors wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone affiliated with You-Know-Who. In the place of civilians and light wizards, however, James had no qualms with it. He wasn’t so heartless as to be able to say it to anyone’s face, though. Not when it was their families that might be the ones killed, their families they were betraying.

The extent of their decision weighed heavily on him.

“What was your plan?” he asked instead, trying to keep an open mind. Regulus was asking him for help, the least he could do was hear them out. 

Barty leaned forward eagerly. “Biological warfare,” he said, sending James’ eyebrows to his hairline. “Nothing extreme," he corrected with a wry grin. "Just something to make everyone at Hogwarts sick enough that the Hogsmeade trip gets cancelled. We’ve been brewing potions all week—we just need access to the kitchens.”

“That would stop the students from going, but what about the people already in Hogsmeade?” 

The Slytherins exchanged a look. 

“We can’t just leave them,” James argued, feeling as if he were pointing out the obvious.

“We can’t warn them either,” Regulus stated grimly, dropping his gaze. “Not without giving up the attack—and me—entirely.”

“Well, what if we get the Aurors there before the attack?” James suggested. He didn’t see a way around it. They needed law enforcement there to protect the civilians. He could only hope they were the heroes he’d made them out to be his whole life and wouldn’t kill those who were undeserving. And for those deserving, well...

They'd made their choices. Whether they had families or not. 

Barty hummed thoughtfully. “We could light a few buildings on fire or something.”

Everyone was silent for a minute.

“Uh—no,” James said, alarmed. “But getting the Aurors there before anything happens might be our best bet. It could discourage the attack entirely, maybe.”

Silence settled over the group as they thought. Barty and Regulus looked at Evan in concern, mixed emotions on their faces. James waited, an observer of a conversation he wasn't truly a part of. One he didn't know the rules of.

“He’s right,” Evan said eventually, face resolute. Everyone seemed surprised. “We can’t just focus on the students.”

“Evan…” Reg said quietly. His voice was laden with gentle concern. 

“It’s fine,” Evan said steadily, waving him off. “Let’s just figure out what to do.”

They looked to James then, expectantly. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, knowing this wasn't likely to go over well. “I want to tell the Marauders,” he said, ignoring their looks of exasperation. “We can trust them, and we’ll need their help," he argued. "I can try, but I don’t know if it’ll work without them. We always come up with plans as a team.”

“Not enough brain cells to go around?” Evan sneered. 

“Do you trust them with your life?” Regulus interjected, ignoring Evan entirely. James did his best to do the same—if he didn't, he might throw something at him. “No, actually—" he corrected himself, his eyes flashing at James in challenge. "Do you trust them with my life,” he clarified. 

“Of course,” James said adamantly. They were his brothers. They would never hurt him like that, or anyone he loved. After holding his gaze for a moment, Regulus nodded, content with what he had found.

“It's settled," Regulus determined, exchanging a look with his friends. James squeezed his knee reassuringly as he came up with their game plan. "We can meet in our dorm after our match today to figure something out. Me and Evan have to get going—it’s supposed to start at three.”

James nodded, kissing him goodbye quickly once they stood. Regulus' body was taut; he hid it well, but James could see the stress of the day—of his week—weighing on him heavily. He wished for just a few moments alone to reassure him in the way he wanted to, to not have to hold anything back, but there was something more pressing he needed to see to.

“Rosier,” he called out, noticing Barty and Evan already leaving the room. “Hold on a second—I want to talk to you.”

Regulus looked between them concerned, but James tried to give him an encouraging smile. It’ll be fine, he tried to communicate. Evan stopped before the door to turn to him, his face impassive. "It'll just be a second," James promised, closing the distance between them. Begrudgingly, Evan stepped out of the door frame, letting Regulus pass. With one final look, Regulus left, leaving the two of them alone. 

The moment the door clicked shut, James turned to him.

“What’s your problem?” James demanded, letting his annoyance surface.

Evan glanced at him, equally bothered. “You’re my problem, Potter.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything!”

Evan suddenly crowded into his space, forcing him to back up against the wall. One moment, he was a few feet away, arms crossed and body turned away, and the next, he was practically on top of James. His eyes were dark, no kindness present in their icy blue.

“I don’t trust you,” he hissed, his breath warm on James’ face. James leaned back further so his head hit the wall, overwhelmed. He wasn't used to being at a disadvantage. “Regulus has enough problems without Hogwarts' golden boy messing around with his emotions.”

Anger surged in James’ chest. “I’m not playing with his emotions,” he said firmly, gritting his teeth. He tried to stand up straighter, but Evan didn't budge. They stood locked in a tense standoff, face-to-face. Evan studied him, expression unwavering. They were close enough that James noticed a scar that ran from his eyebrow to his jaw, a faint white line almost invisible to a quick glance. 

“Yeah, well—we’ll see, won’t we?” Evan said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not,” James repeated firmly.

He held Evan's gaze a moment longer, and just when James thought he might have to fight his way out, Evan stepped back. James hadn’t realised how tall Evan was until they were standing so close—he had at least a couple of inches on him.

“You don’t think you will,” Evan said darkly. “But you’ve lived a sheltered life with your rich, Pureblood family, protected from everything—you don’t know how bad it can get. You don’t know what you signed up for. And you’re gonna go running the second things aren’t pretty and perfect the way you like them.”

James narrowed his eyes. “I’m not,” he repeated.

Evan just tilted his head at him in challenge. 

James held his stare, unflinching. I’m not.

“Like I said,” Evan said grimly, turning on his heel to leave. James didn't try to stop him. “I guess we’ll see.”

He waited until the sound of his footsteps disappeared outside the door before leaving, forcing his anger to quiet. There was no point in getting upset over it; Evan would see the truth soon enough, whether he liked it or not.

James wasn’t going anywhere. 

. . .

Sirius and James had planned on going to the game with Frank to scope out their final competition, so after catching the Marauders up on the situation, they headed out to meet the Head Boy. The Gryffindor team had beaten Ravenclaw by a landslide the weekend before, so it was just Hufflepuff left they had to face. James had been excited by the opportunity to be able to watch Regulus play while not being in the same game himself. 

It was hardly enjoyable anymore, anxiety gnawing at his gut throughout the entire thing. When Regulus had finally caught the Snitch, he and Sirius had booked it all the way back to the castle. Remus and Peter were waiting in the dorms already.

“Let’s go,” James demanded, stripping off his jacket and hunting through his chest for the Cloak. No one held up their journey, being ready to go the moment James was. 

Peter transformed into Wormy for the trip. The Cloak was tight for two people, so even with Peter in Remus' hand, it was comical for three practically fully grown men. James was grateful he and Sirius had run so fast after the game, ensuring the school was still mostly empty. Despite their best efforts, they had more than a few slip-ups on their journey down to the dungeons.

Remus whispered the password to the Slytherin entrance once they made it, revealing the passage to the common room. 

It was quite interesting under the lake, but James didn’t take the time to appreciate it. His mind was focused only on getting to Reg. A small group of Slytherin students near the fire worked on their schoolwork, but otherwise, the common room was empty. They passed by them silently, careful not to alert anyone of their presence. The boys' dormitories were easy to find, doors stretched out along a long tunnel, illuminated with greenish lights. They had to stumble into a few empty rooms before they found the right one; luckily, Barty was lying on one of the beds, or they might have missed it. The dorm was as unassuming as the others had been. He didn't so much as blink when they pushed open the door, focused on two textbooks opened up in front of him. 

Peter made sure the door was closed behind them firmly before starting to transform back, still hidden by the Cloak. His sudden increase in size made them stumble, and in a flail of limbs, James was pushed out into the open. 

Barty screeched as the Marauders suddenly appeared, all tripping over each other. “WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled, scrambling off of his stomach onto his knees, clutching at his chest. His eyes widened when he realised what had happened. “You broke in?!” he accused as recognition flooded his features. 

“Reg said to meet you here!” James shouted back, equally panicked. 

“YOU COULD’VE KNOCKED!” Barty yelled. Before James could worry about it, though, he burst into laughter. “What if I was wanking?” he asked, howling. His laughter didn't cease for a long moment, his face reddening as he wiped at the tears streaming from his eyes. 

James glanced over at his friends warily, suddenly feeling quite out of place. Maybe I should’ve thought this through better, he realised a bit belatedly. They looked just as uncomfortable, shifting their weight and glancing around the room awkwardly.

“Well, have a seat,” Barty invited them eventually as he settled down, gesturing to the other beds. “The lads are just showering.”

Having a moment to breathe for the first time since Regulus had called to him that morning, James crossed the room slowly, examining it. The water of The Black Lake looked like an eerie blue-green outside the long windows. The beds were the same style as the Gryffindor ones but covered with deep green curtains and sheets.

He studied each bed, trying to assess which one was Regulus’. Barty was on his own, he assumed, with piles and piles of textbooks surrounding his bed and atop it. It was surprising—he had always thought Barty was a bit air-headed and certainly not the bookish type. At Remus’ polite attempt at small talk, though, Barty explained that he was working on translating his Ancient Runes assignment into English text.

That left the other two. He figured Regulus’ was the one at the edge, with the black shiny chest at the end of it. There were a couple of piles of clothes left on the floor near his bed, not nearly as messy as Barty's, although phials and pieces of loose parchment were scattered on his bedside table as well. Evan’s area was almost a mirrored image, but his bed was haphazardly made, and he didn’t have any clothes on the floor aside from some messily kicked-off shoes. 

They were messier than the Marauders, James noted with amusement. 

James sat on the bed he assumed to be Regulus’, the Marauders packing in tightly beside him. With nothing else to do, he continued exploring the room with his eyes, feeling inexplicably close to Regulus as he did so. Three thick pillows sat on the floor near the centre of it in a circle of sorts, the kind they had up in the North Tower for Divination. There was a chess game left out on the floor by their closets, the pieces impatiently tapping their feet on the ground, annoyed at the obviously long delay. A chalkboard was conjured on the back of their door, with hastily written notes scribbled and scratched out on it. Like the rest of the dungeons, the room was illuminated by green-hued lanterns along the walls. Pictures were stuck to the walls of famous Quidditch players and (stolen?) street signs. There wasn’t a single photo of their families or friends, James noticed. 

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened, and Evan strode out, towel low on his hips. 

James looked away in a panic.  

He couldn’t possibly be that muscular just from Quidditch, James thought incredulously, very consciously staring at Sirius’ ear instead. Remus and Sirius seemed to have no qualms, however, staring shamelessly. Even Peter took a second look.

“Did Barty let you in?” Evan asked, confused, frozen in the doorframe to the bathroom.

No one answered for a beat too long, and still staring at Sirius’ profile, James rushed to fill the silence. “Remus knows the password since he’s a Prefect,” he explained hastily. Please put clothes on now. His plea was answered as Evan finally moved into action, walking to his closet and pulling a shirt on over his head. James practically sighed in relief. 

Barty started cackling madly from across the room. “Are all Gryffindors gay?” he asked in glee, clapping his hands together. 

That seemed to snap Sirius and Remus out of it. They both looked away in guilt, with Remus blushing fiercely. Peter just shrugged and muttered something about ‘appreciation.’ As if suddenly remembering James' presence, Sirius swung his head around to glare, but he just gave him an innocent smile. I wasn't looking, he thought smugly.

Regulus appeared out of the doorway next—fully dressed, thankfully—donning the black sweatshirt James had given him for Valentine's Day. His hair was still wet, small beads of water dripping from the curls, and his cheeks were reddened. His feet were bare, toes peeking out past the hem of his trousers. James didn't bother to pretend he wasn't staring.

“Oh—" Regulus said, looking at them in confusion. “I guess Barty let you in?” he asked.

Barty snorted. “No, your weird-ass boyfriend broke in with an Invisibility Cloak. He scared the shit out of me.”

Regulus looked unimpressed but not surprised. “You didn’t think to use the mirror?” he said to James very reasonably. 

James could feel Remus’ annoyance while he muttered excuses incoherently. “I was worried,” he said defensively. They had said to meet here after the match. He supposed they hadn’t said when exactly, but it felt urgent. 

Well, it had until now. Now, he sort of just felt a bit stupid.

Regulus didn't seem to mind, at least. Smiling shyly, he rested his hand on James' shoulder and gave it a squeeze on his way past, ignoring Sirius’ hard stare. James couldn't help but grin like an idiot. After Regulus pulled on some socks, he moved to sit on one of the cushions on the floor, with Evan doing the same. James followed his lead and sat by his side, the energy of the room growing more serious as they settled in.

Once Barty and the Marauders joined them in the circle on the third pillow, Evan cast a Muffliato Charm over them before setting his wand down in his lap.

“Has Potter caught you up?” Evan asked, eyes scanning between the Marauders, evoking nods from all of them.

“I want to see the letter,” Sirius demanded without preamble, snatching it quickly from Barty when he grabbed it off his trunk. He read it over quickly, frowning deeper as his eyes flicked across the paper. “What the hell’s the meeting about, Reg?” Sirius asked, face darkened.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Can you focus for once? We are asking for your help with Hogsmeade, not with that.”

“We’ve come up with a plan already, but we need your help to pull it off,” Barty added, trying to get them back on track.

“Shouldn’t we warn the Aurors?” Remus pointed out. “A lot of people might get hurt.” It was the same thing he had said to James when he'd initially explained the problem, always a bit wary of breaking the rules, or in this case, laws. James couldn't blame him; he had a bit more to risk than any of them, but he knew that with enough convincing, he would come around. He always did.

“That’d get Regulus killed,” Evan scowled. “Didn’t Potter go over this with you already?”

“Just want to review all our options,” Remus said complacently, not rising to the bait.

“It could be tracked back to you for sure?” Sirius questioned, eyes remaining on Regulus. “Even if we were to anonymously tip?”

“I’m the only one who got a warning.”

“My family hasn’t reached out,” Evan confirmed. “And none of the other chosen families’ kids have been saying anything either. They would know it was him.”

Silence settled over the group, tension thick in the air. After a moment, Sirius spoke.

“How do we know we can trust you?” he questioned, eyeing the Slytherins. Annoyance flickered across their expressions.

“Oh, fuck off,” Regulus groaned, always reactive when it came to Sirius. They were the only times James had even heard Regulus swear. “We are risking our lives—it would’ve been easier not to say anything.”

Sirius’ eyes flicked over him, quickly darting to Regulus’ friends before settling back on his brother. James had told him what Rosier had said about wanting to defect; he had a hard time believing it himself, but with a curt nod, Sirius showed his approval. He trusted them.

“Well, what if we tell Dumbledore? Or the Aurors, and just explain the situation? They could protect Regulus,” Remus suggested, rounding back to his initial opinion. 

“They won’t do shit,” Barty declared. “They don’t care about people like Regulus—if he ended up dead, it’d just be one less person for them to worry about.”

“But he'd have saved maybe hundreds of lives,” Remus argued, but Sirius held up his hand, silencing him.

“Barty’s right,” he conceded. “His dad’s the fucking Head of Law Enforcement—if he cared about him at all, he would’ve interfered by now,” Sirius said. “He and Reggie have been living together for the past five years; they just don't care.”

“They just care about money,” Barty scowled. 

Remus looked at James and sighed. 

“Alright then, I guess we are doing this."

. . . 

They spent a long few hours in the Slytherin dorms, but by the end of it, they had a plan.

Remus thought that spreading the potion through food was too risky. It was hard to get into the kitchen to tamper with any food, as they learned from previous experience, and it was uncertain if enough people would eat the spiked dishes.

Barty hastily pulled out a textbook as they began brainstorming again, flipping to a page that described the process of transforming a liquid potion into powder. He projected he could get it done by Thursday, sooner if he had help. The bulk of the brewing had already been completed by the three Slytherins.

James suggested distributing it using the same method they'd already had success with from a previous prank. Charmed paper aeroplanes could effortlessly enter dorms for both girls and boys. It wouldn’t be hard to adjust them to spread the potion while they flew. They had two Prefects on their side armed with passwords, an Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauders’ Map (still a secret from the Slytherins but useful), so accessing each House wasn’t going to be an issue.

The harder part was coming up with how to get the Aurors at Hogsmeade without giving up Regulus. For a long time, arson was the best idea they’d had, somehow. Apparently, Barty was serious about that.

It was getting late into the night when Evan inhaled deeply, drawing attention to himself.

“I have an idea,” he said, “but I don’t think the Gryffindors will like it.”

James rolled his eyes. Evan had been throwing barbs at them all evening, obviously wishing they weren’t involved, even though they were the ones who perfected their initial plan. The fact that no one had hexed him yet was a testament to their patience, because he certainly deserved it.

“We could make someone else call the Aurors,” he suggested finally. 

“Why would they be calling though?” Barty pressed. “What would we do?”

Evan shrugged. “We don’t have to do anything,” he emphasised. “We could just make them say that something’s happened.”

James reeled back when what he was implying finally clicked—the Imperius Curse. Evan wanted to force someone to alert the Aurors. 

“We are not using an Unforgiveable,” James said firmly. There had to be a better way. He looked to Regulus for support, but he seemed to be considering it. “No. No way,“ he argued. “That’d make us just as bad as them.”

“Unforgiveables aren’t unique to Death Eaters, Potter; Aurors use them too,” Barty argued. “You should hear the things they do sometimes—they’re all just so loyal to each other they don’t get caught.”

“They’re called 'Unforgivable' for a reason,” Remus backed him up, earning a grateful look from James. “Using them could land us in Azkaban.”

“I’m not suggesting you use them,” Evan clarified, scowling. “It’s the easiest way, and the most foolproof. I could get someone to call and say their store’s been robbed—or that they heard someone screaming or saw a bloody kidnapping—and get some Aurors into Hogsmeade to investigate. No one gets hurt.”

He looked at them challengingly. “Or, we could actually rob a store or set a building on fire. Which one's more moral, do you think? Because they aren’t going to just show up without reason.”

There was silence. James wasn’t sure which was worse the more he thought about it, honestly. To do a crime, or to take away someone’s free will to make them say a lie? Was it bad that the Imperius Curse felt better to him, somehow?

“I could do it,” Regulus said, and James felt his heart sink. No way, he thought. Not when Regulus could go to Azkaban for it.

“You aren’t practised enough,” Evan shot it down immediately. “You might mess up their head. If anyone's doing it, it's me.”

Regulus looked upset at his decision but didn't argue further. Despite their animosity, James was grateful. Silence settled over the group again, the tension palpable. It didn't seem like anyone else had a better idea. 

"So this is our best option," James said eventually. "Drugging all our friends and using an Unforgivable."

"Yes," Evan said adamantly, his gaze intense, expecting James to back down. New resolve filled him.

"Fine," James said, keeping his voice steady. He ignored the concerned looks his friends shot him; despite his stomach knotting, he kept his head high. He had promised to stay by Regulus’ side, and he wasn’t going to break that promise. He had known it wasn’t going to be easy when he signed up for this.

He wasn’t running, though. He meant what he said.

For Reg.

"Let’s figure out roles."

Chapter Text

“It’s your birthday on Sunday.”

James was lying across the couch, his head on Regulus’ lap. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet the whole evening, lower lip now swollen from the amount of time he’d spent gnawing on it. Soft music played in the background—Regulus couldn’t be sure of its name, but it quickly had become his favourite album as James absent-mindedly hummed and sang to its lyrics while they relaxed. 

James looked upwards at him, eyes opening so the firelight caught on the light flecks of brown in his them amongst the dark. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Suppose it is,” he said, smile becoming more prominent. “You’ll really be dating an older man then!"

Regulus rolled his eyes. His birthday wasn’t until the end of the school year, feeling like a lifetime away now. Three months until he was sixteen, and then another year until he was of age. Fifteen months total. That was how long he had until he could leave his house inconsequentially. It ate away at him sometimes—the guilt when he thought about what he was going to do. His mother’s cries had slashed at his heart the past summer as she mourned the loss of Sirius. To know he might destroy her completely with his own actions…

He did love his parents. Despite everything, he still loved them. But he loved James too, he had come to realise. He hadn’t had anywhere to run before he had met him, but now that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, he couldn’t help but propel himself towards it. 

James was his light. He was determined to reach him. 

“Do you want to do anything for it?” Regulus pushed.

James was like Sirius—he gained energy from social interactions. Loved being around people and chatting. He deserved a party with all his friends, something Regulus was sure the Marauders had planned on doing before he had monopolised their weekend with his problems. He hadn’t even had a moment to worry about the spring holidays lately; all his time had been focused on helping Barty process their potions into fine powders and going through every detail of their plan to ensure there’d be no faults.

“I want you to come home with me for the break,” James said petulantly. Despite his warning not to, James apparently had been trying to find loopholes to get him away from his family and into the Potter’s custody. He’d been mopey lately, obviously unsuccessful. Regulus knew it was aimless, but if James needed evidence to support what he had already told him, then he’d learn it quickly enough on his own. He just hoped whatever probing he and his parents were doing would remain secret.

Regulus ran a finger up along James' jaw from his chin, tracing the hard line to his ear and then his temple. James tilted his head so it was pressed more firmly against his hand, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. “It’ll be okay,” he promised him since it was all he could do. James had been focused on the break all week despite the Death Eater attack looming over them.

He hated that James was involved. He hated even more that James seemed eager to throw himself into danger’s way, insisting it was him that went with Evan to Hogsmeade while the rest of the group focused on making sure the trip was cancelled for the students. 

James didn’t belong around Unforgiveables. Or felonies. Regulus should be going with Evan, but the group all agreed he and Remus needed to be at the school as Prefects to execute the plan. A part of him wished Lucius hadn’t cared enough about him to warn him at all, but then he wouldn’t have been able to protect anyone, not even James. 

At least they knew they were in danger now instead of walking into it blindly. Even if it had placed them in an impossible situation. 

Evan agreed to help him when unable to convince him otherwise, loyal to a fault. Regulus could only pray his brothers or father wouldn’t be involved in the attack—if he got his family killed or captured for execution because of his sudden vocation to be good, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. He wasn’t sure that Evan would be able to either, no matter his stance on the war. 

The lines were fuzzy lately on who was worth saving and who was not. Even worse, they’d become contradictory to each other. 

“You don’t have to go to Hogsmeade,” he said for the hundredth time he was sure. “Me or Barty can. I don’t want you to risk yourself.”

James looked up to him in amusement. “I’m just standing guard, and I have the Cloak. Evan’s doing all the work, really.”

Despite his light tone, Regulus knew he was downplaying his nerves. It wasn’t James’ ability to be invisible he was worried about, really—it was his agreement to involve himself in dark magic. His friends shared that concern, but James was deaf to everyone’s objections. His worry must’ve been obvious as James sighed, reaching up to clumsily pat his cheek.

“I’m an adult, Reg—trust me to make my own decisions, please? I’m going to be an Auror next year anyway and be learning loads more about the Dark Arts. It’s not your job to protect me.”

His mouth pulled into a grim line as he nodded. He was too selfish to remove himself entirely, which was the only thing that would preserve James’ innocence. Perhaps it was futile anyway—James was set on being a player in the war. Since his meeting with Dumbledore, he seemed more certain than ever that it was the path he wanted to take.  

Kill first, ask questions later.

Working under Barty’s dad wasn’t exactly a path of righteousness, as it were, anyway. 

“You’ll be seventeen,” he tried again, focusing back on his birthday. The time for the attack was closing in on them; he didn’t want to spend their final moments alone arguing. “There has to be something you want.”

Sex.

Regulus was certain James was more than ready to have sex. If The Room's set-up on Valentine’s Day wasn’t obvious enough of his desires, he’d also been bringing it up more often in conversation, obviously trying to get a sense of Regulus’ feelings on it. Despite it all, James never tried to do more than what they’d already done in practice, and the anticipation was driving Regulus insane. 

He thought they would have done it already on Valentine’s Day, to be honest. James had asked him to sleep with him, procured a bed, they'd had a nice dinner and quite a few drinks—he’d done everything boyfriends did in romance and fantasy novels. It was all but a certain thing, he had thought, leading up to it.

But then James didn’t even try. He had wanted to literally just sleep with him, it became apparent, as he snuggled against him under the blankets, snoring only minutes later. The tension that left Regulus' body when he’d realised left him in tears, to his utter humiliation. It was stupid—there'd been no reason for him to react in such a way. He blamed the alcohol for making him so emotional over nothing. 

James was of age in just a couple of days, though, and Regulus was his boyfriend. It was what he was supposed to do. And he did want to do it—he loved James’ body and making him feel good. He was just nervous for some reason. It was silly, though—he knew what to do. Better than James' did, at any rate. It'd be better once they just got it over with. 

James sighed again, rolling onto his side so his face was pressed against Regulus’ stomach, his shirt being pulled up to reveal the tanned notch of his hip bone and the dark trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. Regulus tried to clear his mind, willing away the thoughts that occurred from James’ head lolling around so close to there.

“I really just want you to come with me for the hols, but if I can’t have that… then I just want you to be safe.”

Regulus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That’s not a gift, you idiot, he thought. James certainly was not normal.

“Right,” he said instead, his voice sounding disgruntled to his own ears. James twisted his head up to look at him again, mouth twisting into a knowing smile.

“Was that not the answer you wanted?” 

Regulus shifted uncomfortably again, knowing it was futile with James quite literally on his lap anyway. “It’s your birthday, is all I was saying.” He tried his best to keep his voice airy, but it sounded a bit strangled nonetheless. Damn you, he cursed James.

“Well, once we save the day, I suppose I could be convinced of a sleepover. If you want that, of course,” James added on. “I’ve been—Well, I’m ready, I think. Once you are.”

“I’ve had sex,” Regulus reminded him. It’d come up, of course, and James respected the fact he didn’t want to talk about it further. He hadn’t even asked who it was with. 

James gave him a soft smile. “I know. Doesn’t mean you want to with me yet, though.”

I want to! he screamed at him in his head, frustrated from having told himself the same thing a thousand times over already. He was so completely unlike Rudolphus it was hard not to compare them at times. He did his best not to think about it, though—he didn’t like how it made him feel when he did. 

“…you can take things slow. Don’t do anything you don’t feel ready to do, ever.”

Shut the hell up, he quieted Sirius’ voice in his head. 

He did want to. He wanted to be with James and, quite literally, no one else. He’d end things with Rudolphus over the break, and then he and James could continue unhindered. He never would even have to admit to what happened over the winter holidays.

Everything would be fine. 

“I want to,” he said, making sure his voice was certain.

James wagged his eyebrows at him, expression devilish. “Well then, if you insist…” he said teasingly, laughing into his stomach when Regulus swatted at him. After a brief struggle, he pulled himself up higher on the couch to kiss him. Regulus returned it greedily.  

It escalated rather quickly, but Regulus would argue it was entirely James’ fault. His shirt had just gotten untucked from his pants when the door to The Room rattled open, followed by the thudding of footsteps. Regulus pushed James off of himself, but it was too late. 

“Oi! Looks like you two have been busy!” Barty exclaimed in glee, an enthralled smile breaking out on his face. He had a backpack over his shoulders, and in his hands were two more bags. Evan filtered into the room next, taking one look at Regulus and rolling his eyes. The smirk on his face was telling, however. 

The Marauders entered next. Remus took care to close the door behind them, hiding his laugh behind his turned back. Sirius barely made it three steps inside the door before he stopped, folding his arms in their direction just inside the door and scowling.

“Seriously?” he scorned. “You couldn’t wait?”

Peter shoved at him as he passed by, sending him stumbling to catch his footing. “Says the guy who locked us out of our room every weekend last year,” he chided. 

Regulus tried to fix his clothes, cheeks heated in not just exertion. One look at James frantically trying to do the same, and he broke out in an embarrassed smile. Oops.

The group had planned on meeting up in The Room to wait out curfew together until it was time to put their plan into motion. He’d shown Barty and Evan The Room already before, and James had given the Marauders instruction as well. He hadn’t released how much time had passed since they’d gotten there, though. Clearly. 

It was bittersweet. The Room was no longer just his and James’ anymore, but it was a step in their relationship as well. Of course, it’d taken an act of terrorism to force their friend groups together, but it was still significant. They disbursed throughout the room, the two groups, each being drawn to different areas as they flitted amongst each other uncertainly. 

Regulus watched as Peter and Sirius walked the perimeter of the room in exploration. Once in a while, Sirius would grab something and yell at his friend to look at it, his face delighted. There was so much here that Regulus hadn't even known the name of at the start of the year, but unlike him, his brother seemed to not carry even an ounce of fear of the unknown. Regret passed through Regulus fleetingly—for years, Sirius had been trying to tell him the truth, but he hadn't listened.

Barty dumped his supplies loudly on the floor by the couch, his backpack sounding as if it were filled with bricks, and immediately started inspecting the wires connected to the television. He’d just started fiddling with it when James had arrived for their last meeting here and had been asking Regulus questions about it since. He was happy in his own world for the time being, hyperfocused on whatever it was he had been thinking about.

Evan drifted toward the bookshelves by himself. He pretended to read the spines of the library, but Regulus knew he was just uncomfortable. He was usually standoffish to anyone he didn’t know well—in his defence, strangers tended to treat him like a mangy dog, his family’s reputation usually preceding him. What came first, his demeanour or others’ incivility towards him, Regulus wasn’t sure.

If any of James’ friends were rude towards him, however, he’d hex them. Evan was risking more than anyone this weekend.

Only Remus wasn’t concerned with the Muggle items, joining him and James in the sitting area without delay.

He was curious about the magic of The Room, asking James the same questions that his partner had vocalised in the first few weeks upon finding it. As they discussed it, Regulus realised just how smart James was—he never acted it, not that he was stupid, but he wasn’t particularly studious, and he didn’t speak as if he was well-read or smarter than anyone. He was like Sirius in that way, Regulus supposed, where school just came naturally to him. Despite not acting posh, the Potters were from old money at the end of the day—James likely had as prestigious of tutors and mentors growing up as he and Sirius did.

Slowly, person by person, the group gathered at the couch, conversation waning.

“Should we play a game?” James suggested, motioning over the teetering pile of board games that they had been making good use of. 

“Or watch a movie?” Barty asked eagerly, his excitement palpable. “We have a few hours before we have to get ready.” 

Sirius nodded in agreement, eyes lit up. “I want to watch a movie,” he said in support. 

Remus squatted in front of the cabinet of VHS tapes, both knees cracking loudly. “What do we think—something funny? Or action?” he questioned, humming at the selection. Barty, Sirius and Peter all joined him, commenting on the titles and covers while Remus did his best to explain the plots he was familiar with. 

Noticing Evan still hovering a bit uncertainly at the edge of the carpet, Regulus shuffled tightly against James, making room for him to sit beside him. It was a tight fit, especially once Sirius and Remus squeezed onto the other side of the couch, but they made it work. 

Regulus was reminded of the first time he and James had watched a movie once it began, the boys exclaiming comments on the opening titles and moving pictures of the film. Other than Remus, it was everyone else's first film.

James nudged him, leaning in close to his ear to whisper, “Remember when we watched Bambi?”

Regulus grinned at their similar train of thought. “Thumper,” he whispered nostalgically, laughing lightly when James paused, stilling his knee immediately, only for it to start up again a moment later. 

“Bambi,” James teased right back, kissing his cheek.

“Sh!”

As James pulled away, Regulus caught sight of Sirius watching them from the far side of the couch, leaning forward to give them a stern look. Regulus narrowed his eyes at him in challenge, annoyance flaring. Their battle was short-lived, however. Remus reprimanded Sirius on his behalf with a gentle push to the back of his head before tugging him back against the couch, leaving his arm behind him.

Regulus smirked, knowing that was probably more than a little distracting for his brother.

He settled in to focus on the movie. Remus had suggested they watched 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail', the group deciding that a comedy was the best choice before the mission. Half the group nearly pissed themselves during it, if not at the movie’s jokes, then at each other's boisterous laughter and commentary.

They still had a couple of hours to spare once it ended, the clock just approaching midnight. “Game?” James suggested again, setting up Monopoly at Sirius’ insistence. The room dissolved into chaos while everyone got ready to play. Regulus grabbed his book from beside the couch, curling up to read for a bit before they had to go instead. 

Sirius passed by him, ruffling his hair and dancing away playfully when he swatted at him. “Ah ah," he chided, just out of reach.

Asshole, Regulus thought angrily while Sirius gave him a wink. 

James watched the interaction, looking as if they had just proclaimed their unshakeable love for one another. He rolled his eyes at his partner’s unwavering optimism, but he supposed if Sirius was back to teasing him mercilessly, their relationship had healed a bit, albeit very superficially. 

Evan was perched on the couch beside him still, watching the Marauders and Barty argue over the playing pieces noisily.

“Rosier! Do you want the thimble or the boot?” Sirius yelled suddenly over everyone else’s voices. Evan moved closer to the game board with Sirius' covert permission, inspecting the remaining choices critically.

Regulus smiled into his book, glad everyone seemed to be getting along. If anyone knew what it was like to be limited by a last name, it was his brother. Clearly, James and his friends didn’t hold much faith in the status quo anyway since they were friends with Sirius and a werewolf already. 

“Ew—what the hell, Barty! Don't lick it,” someone complained, the room lapsing into silence. 

Barty shrugged, unperturbed. “It's actually metal,” he noted. 

Regulus rolled his eyes. The smartest guy he knew, and he was a complete idiot. 

. . .

The group didn’t have time to finish Monopoly before they had to start organising themselves, but they'd finally all learnt the gameplay after several arguments and re-readings of the rule book. They agreed to have a rematch in the near future, finishing in mutual disagreement over who would have won. 

Barty was crouched on the ground, dividing the supplies up amongst the four backpacks which he had brought. “The onset of the symptoms I calculated should be between three to four hours,” he explained as he showed off the two powders.

Evan and Regulus shared a look. By ‘calculate’, Barty actually meant ‘drugged his friends’, keeping them up half the night projectile vomiting on Wednesday. He was kind enough to test the laxative on himself, at least. 

“The light grey powder is the laxative, and the greenish is the Emetic Potion. A fifty-fifty mixture is ideal to achieve the most believable flu-like symptoms, so I pre-mixed everything already before dividing it.”

James looked at Regulus, eyebrow quirked. He smirked knowingly. James was in for a treat if he was impressed already—Barty had hardly gotten started. He had spent hours scribbling away on parchment and their blackboard the past week, planning every step down to an exact science. 

“For it to be effective, at least thirty grains—a sixteenth of a teaspoon—needs to reach each target. There are about eight hundred and fifty students at Hogwarts. Each baggy,” he showed an example translucent pouch with the potion inside, “has enough powder for approximately one-fourteenth of a House or, more simply put, four dorms, plus twenty feet of spillage to accommodate for travel time. I applied an  Antigravity Charm to the powder already—the longer it lingers in the air around the students' heads, the higher chance it has of being inhaled, in which case only half the amount is needed than if it’s used transdermally.”

Sirius whistled, sharing an impressed look with James. 

“Just nick a small hole in the pouches before sending them into the dorms—don’t make it too big, or it’ll run out before it hits enough students. And be sure to wear gloves and a mask until you’re ready to take your own dose. James and Evan are exempt, obviously. Don’t reckon shitting their pants would go down too well,” he sniggered. 

James rolled his eyes despite laughing. He was still acting as if it was just some prank they were doing and not trying to negate a terrorist attack. Regulus wasn’t sure if it was admirable or worrisome.

“Everyone’s familiar with charming paper aeroplanes, so we’ll leave it at that,” James stated. “Barty, Sirius, and Peter are going to Ravenclaw to start.” Ravenclaw didn’t have an easy password the Prefects could share, but Barty hadn’t had issues with entering in the past. “Remus and Regulus are going to Hufflepuff. I’m starting with Gryffindor, and Evan with Slytherin.”

James looked at each of them as he spoke. “Once you’re done with your Houses, meet me and Evan back at our dorms. We’ll head out to Hogsmeade, and you guys can take over finishing up.”

Barty waved four pieces of parchment in the air. “I’ve set up a targeting schedule. Stick to the list—it’s designed to be random, so there won’t be any pattern to when the illness kicks in, or any clues that point to this being planned.”

“How could you be sure of that?” Remus questioned, frowning in thought. 

“That’s a bit paranoid,” Peter commented dryly. 

“Planning for contingencies is why this is going to work,” Barty said firmly. 

It reminded Regulus of what his father had said over Christmas. “You always need to be at least two steps ahead of your opponents. That way, once one thing falls into place, everything else just follows naturally.” Barty Crouch Sr. and his father were the same sort of power-hungry, they just hid their motives behind different causes. Barty had been a better pupil than himself, it seemed. 

“It’ll make sure no one is missed, too. It’s a good idea,” Remus said supportively. Regulus nodded at his friend in agreement, and Barty returned a proud smile, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Not everyone’s going to get a dose—we can’t control if someone’s out of bed or has their head under a blanket or something—but if we do this right, enough will. It’ll look both spontaneous and believable,” Barty said.

James clapped his hands together. “Right, well, thank you! That’s bloody brilliant. The school should go into lockdown once the Headmaster hears of the outbreak—as long as symptoms clear up within a day, it’ll likely be chalked up to food poisoning or something.”

Regulus felt his mouth turn down in worry. He hadn’t considered that. He hoped no House-elves would end up taking the fall for them. 

“Okay, sounds like we are ready then,” Sirius said after a brief moment of silence, eyes alert and ready for action. He caught Regulus’ gaze and gave him a curt nod. “Let’s do this.”

This is all for me, Regulus thought, overwhelmed. They could’ve just alerted the Ministry about the attack, but they didn’t—everyone here was doing this for him. It was an enormous gesture from everyone involved, too big for him to process right now. He just prayed that it worked.

“I’ll see you by the fourth-floor mirror,” James said to Evan in lieu of a goodbye before grabbing Regulus’ wrist and pulling him away from the group. He kissed him firmly. “Love you,” he said, his face just an inch away. “This’ll all work out—don’t worry.”

Regulus felt like he might throw up, but he just nodded instead, leaning forward so his forehead rested against James’. He was going with Evan where the attack was meant to happen, with plans for them to use an Unforgivable—it wasn’t even comprehendible. James shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this ever, let alone for him.

Yet, he was.

“I love you, too,” Regulus said before he could lose his nerve.

James' face lit up like a Christmas tree, his whole body jolting as though he wanted to leap into the air, and his eyes shone like he'd just won the Quidditch World Cup. Despite his best efforts, Regulus found himself unable to suppress a grin.

"I'll see you on Sunday," James promised, his smile still wide. "And I'll mirror you as soon as I get back!"

“If I don’t answer, I’m probably stuck in the bathroom,” Regulus said seriously, but James burst out into laughter. 

“Merlin, right. Good luck with that.”

“Prongs, let’s go!” Sirius called from the doorway irritably. 

James rolled his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip. “Say it again,” he demanded in a harsh whisper, leaning forward expectantly. Regulus' face heated.  

“I love you,” he repeated obediently, mouth twitching in betrayal as James kissed once more before stepping away. “Please stay safe,” he added, stomach-churning in worry. James promised he would, asking the same of Regulus before hauling one of the bags Barty had packed over his shoulder. Remus came to stand at his flank after a moment, joining him in watching the others leave. 

“Ready?” the taller boy asked, smirking at him knowingly. 

Regulus tried to ignore him, taking a deep breath and forcing his thoughts to settle into silence so he could focus. Calmness overcame him like a wave, leaving his mind sharp and ready. He had a role to play, the same as they all did. It was only going to work if they all played their parts.  

“Ready.”

Chapter Text

The Gryffindor common room was empty when James snuck back into it. It had just reached three am, so it was no surprise, really. He crept to his room, laying out the contents of the rucksack Barty had given him on the floor. Regulus always referred to his friend as clever, and James had never really understood it, thinking of the boy he saw in the hallways sometimes, often with split knuckles and who had a gleeful look in his eye while Micheal screamed under his curse. 

He understood it now, though. His planning was completely foolproof—emptying the knapsack, all the potions were packed into perfectly weighted bags. There were several pre-made aeroplanes, extra loose-leaf paper, and a scarf to cover his face. The list of Gryffindor targets was written out in neat capital letters, and the sheet itself was wrapped around extra ink and a quill. He snorted at the banana he came across in the bag next. 

Actually—he was a bit hungry, now that he thought about it. Unpeeling the banana, James sat back onto his arse for a moment. 

No, Barty was quick-tempered and rambunctious, but he was also undoubtedly intelligent. A bit odd, too, James thought. Above all, he was a good friend to Regulus with the amount of time he’d put into this the past week. 

Finishing his snack, he got to work, carefully wrapping the scarf—Slytherin green, he noted with a huff—around his nose and mouth before donning the thin leather gloves. The fifth-year girls were his first targets, according to the list.

He crept to the stairwell leading to their dorm, clambering onto his broomstick to get past the charmed stairs. He hung from it upside down, inching forward with bated breath until he reached the fifth floor. Ears straining for the sounds of anyone awake, he cracked open the first door before repeating the procedure with the other two. Beckoning the charmed paper plane closer, he carefully nicked a hole in the potion bag and sent it on its journey through the bedrooms. 

He only released the breath he’d been holding when he made it back to the common room. The silence was deafening as he waited for it to return. Finally, the plane reappeared down the stairs, the bag of potion behind it empty.

It worked. One down, thirteen to go.

James wasn't even halfway through the list by the time Sirius and Peter got back. No Remus, though, which meant he and Regulus were still in the Hufflepuff tower. He pushed down the flare of anxiety that lit up in his chest.

Regulus is okay, he reminded himself. James could count on Remus to watch his back. 

“Right, I guess I’ll head out,” he said after a brief catch-up on their success in Ravenclaw. His heart was thumping in his chest—the actual mission for himself hadn’t even begun yet. Not really. The potion was nothing more than a large-scale and rather disgusting prank, something he’d taken part in several times over the years.

In Hogsmeade, it was going to be something entirely different—he was going to commit a crime. 

"I love you," Regulus’ soft voice repeated in his head. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up despite himself.

It’s for the greater good, he reminded himself. It’s for Regulus. 

Sirius and Peter looked at him worriedly.

“James,” Sirius said, looking nervous. “Maybe I should come?” he suggested, not for the first time this week. “I could stay as Padfoot—just be around for backup.”

James shook his head. "I am the backup. Besides, you and Pete need to finish up here before it gets too late in the morning."

Peter and Sirius still looked uncertain.

“Don’t betray yourself,” Peter said wisely after a moment, giving in. “For Rosier. Or for Regulus.” He looked at Sirius apologetically. “If something goes wrong, just—just call the Aurors, James. Please. It’s not worth your life or anyone else’s.”

“Nothing will go wrong. But, I will,” he added to reassure them. 

He wouldn’t. 

He’d rather die than betray Regulus, and he would do the same for any of them.

Sirius looked pained, but he nodded finally. “Look out for yourself,” he said grimly.

“Course," James agreed. "Same for you. And try not to destroy the bathroom, yeah?”

"Be safe," Peter added quietly.

They both hugged him, with Sirius looking ready to run out the door at any moment. James hoped Peter would be able to reel him in from doing anything stupid. It was a stealth mission—the fewer people going, the better. Sirius had wanted to be the one to go, but James held his position firmly. 

He needed to do this. 

When he reached the mirror on the fourth corridor that concealed the secret tunnel, he’d thought it was empty. He glanced around as he waited, on high alert for anyone patrolling the corridors, when a dark figure stepped out of the shadows. His heart stopped in his chest for half a moment before he realised it was Evan. 

He looked bloody terrifying.

He was wearing all black, his pants and vest both matte leather and heavily buckled. A simple cloak covered him, the hood shadowing his face so just the edges of his profile could be made out. Refusing to admit to being caught off guard, James pointedly didn’t comment, but he felt a bit under-prepared in his regular clothes. He’d chosen all black, at least, he supposed. 

Well, and he had an Invisibility Cloak. It wasn't like he wasn’t going to be seen by anyone, regardless. 

Who the hell just had battle robes like that lying around anyway? 

“Ready?” Evan asked. As he approached, the moonlight illuminated his face, catching the loose strands of his hair that fell over his forehead and turning his irises practically white in its pale light. For a moment, he looked ethereal, a ghostly warrior looming in the darkened hall.  

James nodded certainly, pushing away his nerves. They had planned to leave earlier than they needed, but the group mutually agreed that the sooner they finished what they were doing and got out of the town, the better. Getting caught amid a battle or by Aurors for underaged magic and illegal curses were equally catastrophic outcomes. 

“So, what’s the plan?” James asked as they walked. He hoped any ill feelings Evan harboured towards him could be set aside for the day. “I’m here now—I need to know.”

Evan had been annoyingly tight-lipped during the time they’d spent together over the week. He firmly reminded James that he was to stay out of sight, and his only job was to whistle in warning if someone approached while Evan was working. He used to think that Regulus could sometimes be a bit prickly, but after spending time with Evan, who scowled if he so much as breathed, Regulus seemed practically hospitable, even at his grumpiest. 

“It’ll be more believable if there's several reports,” Evan answered finally as they walked the dark tunnel. He hadn’t seemed to expect James to come at all, let alone to want to be involved. 

James frowned, glad in the darkness, Evan couldn’t see his expression. “You want to curse multiple people?”

“If they get multiple reports of the same thing, they’ll investigate longer. And they may send more teams out, too.” Evan took a deep breath. “It’s better we do it right if we are going to do it at all.”

James couldn’t argue with his logic, but his gut twisted uncomfortably. Unforgivable, his mind scolded him in his head. Dark magic.

“Will you be able to hold it okay? You won’t mess up their minds or anything like that, right?”

He could almost imagine Evan’s face as he shook his head negatory. “I can do it,” he said, voice even. “I’m gonna fake a kidnapping—several reports, no evidence left behind. It’s bound to gain loads of attention, and keep some Aurors nearby investigating all day.” 

James bit his lip. “You sure it’s the only way? That sounds…” Like overkill? Evil? Way too lenient use of an Unforgiveable?

He could feel Evan’s body tense. They had reached the ladder to get to the above ground now, but Evan paused at the bottom rung, turning to face him. “If you don’t want to do this, then you can stay here,” he said bluntly.  

“No way,” James retorted immediately, widening his stance. “You’re the one who didn’t even want to help at first."

Evan crowded closer, standing over him until they were almost touching. James refused to give him the satisfaction of backing away this time. “I’m here,” he snarled, his stoic demeanour cracking for just a moment. “It’s not fuckin' black and white, but I made my decision, okay? I’m here.”

It was hard to remember Evan was younger than him sometimes, especially in moments like this. And maybe Evan could be scary, but James wasn't scared of him. Not right now, at least. And not when he remembered Regulus and that this was his best friend.

He must be scared, too, James thought. Even if he had done it before—to be using an Unforgivable, to be risking Azkaban—there was no way Evan wasn't freaking out a bit as well. 

And it was all for Regulus. Whether or not he liked Evan, they had the same goal.

The taller boy sighed suddenly, rubbing the crease out between his forehead as he took a step back. “Look,“ he said softer, voice calm again, “I promised Reg I’d watch out for you, but I know this isn’t your cup of tea. If you are getting cold feet, it’s okay—genuinely, it's okay. I cased all the houses already, and I don’t see there being any problems. So if you wanna head back, you can.”

“No,” James said. “You need someone to watch your back, and I keep my promises. We’re a team right now, alright? I won’t question your decisions anymore, but you have to be more open with me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Evan assessed him for a moment, searching, and then nodded. “Okay.”

James held his gaze. 

“Okay.”

. . .

Evan had a plan mapped out, leading them to a farmhouse on the North outskirts of town first. It was still dark outside, but the horizon showed a thin line of orange across the land. The overcast clouds blocked any further sun from getting through, making it feel as if the night hadn’t ended.

Evan sat on his haunches, low to the ground against a cobblestone fence. James took a spot beside him, moving more normally, safe under his Cloak. Turning toward their first target, Evan cast a long spell, a yellow shimmer appearing around the cottage in a bubble before disappearing. 

“What’s that?” James asked, shuffling a bit closer. 

Loyal to their truce, Evan didn’t so much as scowl at his questioning. “Warding.”

James frowned. “What do we do?”

Evan did roll his eyes this time but dutifully explained what he was doing anyway. “The first spell is diagnostic—to figure out which wards are present. I only know how to break the five most basic spells. If it’s anything more advanced, then we’d have to change targets.”

“Can you get by?” James asked curiously. He hadn’t seen a yellow shimmer before—his own family's wards when they were activated were purple and blue, he was pretty sure. He also had never broken into someone’s house before, though. He and Evan came from very different lives, he was starting to realise. 

Evan nodded. “I already checked a couple days ago—I’m just making sure there's no changes. Most people don’t ward beyond basic measures. Unless they have something to hide, of course.”

He pulled the black fabric tied around his neck up over the lower half of his face after he deactivated the wards, then carefully adjusted the oversized hood. Just a strip of skin was visible now, his blue eyes bright and focused. “The farmer lives alone—you should be fine to just stay here. If you notice someone coming up the road, though, whistle.”

“Wait!” James said hastily, tugging him back to the ground beside him with a quick grab when he rose to move. “Let me glamour your eyes—they’re too noticeable.”

He made them a simple brown and hid the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose for good measure. Evan was completely unrecognisable now between his mask and the glamour. With a quick nod from James, happy with his work, he darted off. 

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting—for him to use the front door maybe—but he watched minutely impressed as Evan climbed onto the wood pile stacked against the wall, jumping and then hoisting himself up the last couple of feet to the roof. For such a big guy, he moved pretty gracefully. He dropped onto the awning at the front of the house, creeping along the wall to the window. After a quick glance inside, he pushed it open, disappearing into its dark mouth. 

James didn’t breathe once the entire time he was inside.

What if someone else had slept there last night? he worried. How long should I give him until I intervene?

It all came to headway, however, when not even two minutes later, Evan ducked through the same window he had entered from. He jumped from the awning to the ground, his cloak billowing above him like a fallen angel’s wings before he landed silently in a crouch. 

He rejoined James by the fence, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Let’s keep moving.”

They slowly made their way to the next target, darting from tree to building unnoticed by the early risers of Hogsmeade as they moved closer into town. James hoped Hogwarts was locked down by now and no students would be joining them anytime soon. 

It was a long process. When they arrived at the cottage, James stood on guard by the fence again under his Cloak while Evan crept along the house to the backyard. A witch was in her gardens outside already, digging into the dewy dirt, completely unaware. Evan silenced and bound her before she could so much as make a noise.  

James' heart lurched as her eyes widened in fear at him. 

“Imperio.”

The difference was immediate—her eyes glazed over, her face going relaxed and tranquil. Evan moved to where she was knelt on the grass, dropping down to eye-level with her. He spoke to her in a low, calming murmur. 

“At ten-fifteen this morning, Firecall the Auror’s department to report a kidnapping.” She was completely nonreactive as he described what she was to report. “Lie as needed to answer their questions, and maintain your story. Otherwise, go about your day as you normally would, but stay on your property and close to your Floo. Leave at the first sign of trouble.”

“Can we reassure her that it’s temporary or something?” James asked as he was rejoined. As soon as Evan dropped the bindings, the woman turned back to her gardening, acting as if nothing had happened. James found himself unable to look away, his mind in disbelief at how normal she seemed. If he hadn’t witnessed it, he truly would have had no idea she was under a curse. 

Evan shook his head. “Won’t make a difference. She doesn’t even know she’s under a curse, really.”

“Is it awful?” he asked as they crouched back into the shadows of the forest, darting out of town. Evan pulled his mask down for a moment, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand as he squatted to take a breath.

“It’s the least awful of the Unforgivables,” he said eventually. “It feels nice, in the moment. Like everything's okay.”

James felt a bit better knowing the woman and farmer weren’t suffering right now because of them. This very well could be saving their lives, after all. When they realised what had happened later, he could only hope that being alive was enough for them to understand why it had to be done. 

It was slow moving to get to the other side of town as they moved tree to tree around the perimeter of it. James tucked his cloak into his pocket, removing it to move faster. No one was in the forest, but the hustle and bustle of the town could be heard as they moved. His watch let him know it was approaching nine am by the time they finished up at a third house and moved to head into the town's shopping area. 

“Are you sure we need more?” James asked from behind the bush where they had set up base. Multiple people could be seen on the street walking past the shop Evan had selected for their final victim—Dervish and Banges. It was close to Hogsmeade's core but at the end of the street with only a trail leading to it from the forest. As isolated as they could get in this area.

Evan nodded, assessing the building. “The more, the better, right? And we need to draw some attention closer to the centre of town—Death Eaters won’t waste their time in the farmlands. Aurors downtown might make 'em call it off.”

It was hopeful thinking for sure. “It seems busy,” James said uncertainly. 

Evan looked at him, then back at the store again. “Dervish works alone in the shop at the back running repairs. There’s a store-front worker, but he stays near the counter. If I go in the back, I shouldn't have to worry about him at all.” 

James bit his lip. So far, all of Evan’s information had been correct—he wasn’t sure how long he’d been sneaking into Hogsmeade to do all this recon, but it was certainly to their benefit.

“I just don’t have a good feeling about it,” he admitted. 

Evan didn’t tell him off for second-guessing him—James could see his jaw working as he contemplated his words. “If something goes wrong, run,” he said after a moment. “Give me a warning if you can, but just get out of here. I’ll be able to make do.”

James shook his head. “No, I agreed to this. But let me…” He thought about it, trying to formulate a better plan. “I’ll come in with you,” he decided. “I’ll lock the front door once we are in, so no one will interrupt. Then we just have to keep our eye on one entrance. It’ll be safer.”

Evan’s eyes crinkled the slightest amount as he considered. For a moment, James thought he was going to try to tell him no, but then he nodded. “Alright, yeah. Do you think you can get in through the front, or do you need to follow me?”

James was fit—he ran almost daily on top of Quidditch practice—but he hadn’t done any parkour lately. He was sure he could keep up with Evan, but this probably wasn't the time to test it. “I can get in the front fine.” Sneaking around with the Cloak was something he had more than a little practice with from over the years. 

Evan nodded. “Okay, let’s go. No one’s entered since we’ve been sitting here—the store should be empty.”

Evan dashed off to the back of the building while James made his way to the front. He turned the door handle carefully, pushing it open in a smooth motion, trying to mimic the wind as if it hadn’t been shut properly. He was surprised when he peeked around the door to find three sets of eyes on him.

Fuck fuck fuck—

They didn’t see him with his Cloak, but one of the Auror’s eyes narrowed as he lumbered over to the door. “Damn wind,” he scolded, shutting it with a bang! in James' face before he could sneak in. James scrambled to the window, vanishing one of the panes to eavesdrop. 

“Listen—I’m your brother. I’m just saying there should be a family discount or something,” the younger Auror of the two was saying from the counter, leaning on it casually. The man behind the counter rolled his eyes. He was scrawnier and lither than his brother but had the same auburn hair and moustache.

“Andres, I just work here. How many times do I have to say that? We’ve been having this conversation all morning. I just started! I can't just give people discounts, and it’s not like you don’t have the money to pay for the repair either.”

“It’s the principle!” the Auror argued, looking affronted. “We’re family!” His partner, an older gentleman with greying hair, was walking around the perimeter of the store with an appraising eye as his colleague argued with his brother. He removed his hands from the pockets of his red robe to tinker with a scope of some kind, looking bored.

There was a thud at the back of the store suddenly; everyone looked at it nonplussed and then turned back to what they were doing. 

Evan,  James thought, alarmed. 

“Merlin in a handbasket,” the store worker swore, sighing loudly. “Fine! I’ll ask Dervish, okay? Anything to get you away from me. Just don’t break anything while I’m in the back,” he said forewarningly, turning to the door in the far corner of the shoppe. 

James' eyes widened. 

He cast without thinking, sending a Tripping Jinx towards the young man. He stumbled dramatically, flailing his arms to try to catch his balance before falling flat onto his face. His brother laughed loudly, not bothering to help him up. 

“I see you got all the athletic genes,” the older Auror chuckled, lumbering to the front to join his partner. Already, the store worker was pushing himself up onto his feet with a scowl, shooting his brother a glare before stomping towards the back of the shop even quicker than before. 

James looked around, stressed, before whistling loudly. It wouldn't make any difference at this point, he knew. He doubted Evan could’ve gotten out yet. The storeworker had nearly made it to the backdoor—shit.

He couldn’t let Evan get caught.

Do something.

He needed to make a distraction. 

Do something!

He shifted without thinking about it, the world turning blue and green as everything went somewhat out of focus. He backed up a couple of steps, and then leapt forward against every instinct in his body. 

“Bloody hell!”

The window shattered as James burst through it, his hooves sliding out from under him as he landed on the hard floor inside the store. He didn’t have time to think—the Aurors scrambled backwards towards safety as he reared up on his hind legs, the store worker slack-jawed behind them. The deer’s panic mixed with his own, his brain screaming at him, Run run run!

And he did.

Well, he tried. 

His antlers got caught on a display as he turned, sending the tall shelf skittering across the floor. Objects crashed onto the ground, deafening to his ears. He bucked, hooves sliding as he attempted to spin around. His antlers tangled in another shelf, jerking his neck painfully as he tried to pull free. The store was too damn tight, and he was too big—it was futile to try to go out the way he came in.

Fuck, he swore, dashing forwards before he could think about it and letting his instincts take over. 

The second window shattered the same as the first as he jumped through it, scrambling on the cobblestone on the other side when he landed. Pedestrians screamed and scattered at his appearance. He’d gotten loads better at controlling his body as Prongs over the past year, but he weighed about four times as much as he did as a human and took up about six times the amount of space. The terrible eyesight wasn’t much of a difference apart from the colours as when he didn’t wear his glasses, but the fight-or-flight panic that existed in his Animagus form’s body was beyond his control sometimes. 

Like right now. 

He scrambled on the wet road, running away from the yells and deeper into the city centre.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

Hogsmeade felt as busy as ever as he ran, desperately trying to get out of town and away from the people who screamed in panic at the sight of him. He could only hope Evan would’ve managed to get out of the building during his distraction. He skidded around a corner, his legs buckling as he crashed into a pile of boxes. 

“There it goes!”

He vaguely recognised one of the Auror’s voices as he managed to get his long legs under himself again, darting forward down the alleyway towards the open fields. One of his antlers caught on a sign from the wall, knocking it to the ground uselessly and jarring his neck. 

A blast of red passed his head, and James scrambled to change directions. Are they trying to stun me? he thought, alarmed. 

Fuck fuck fuck—

He managed to make it to the outskirts of town finally, but a tall fence blocked his path to the open fields. He could hear from behind him heavy footsteps as he was chased. He lowered his head and sprinted, pushing off with his hind legs with all the power he could muster when he reached the barrier. 

It felt like he was flying—he cleared it easily. 

Hell yeah!

With no obstacles in the field, he maintained his fast pace, sprinting towards the forest. He heard no more spells or footsteps behind him, but he made as much distance as he could, running for a while longer, even once he was concealed in the treeline, before shifting back into his human form. 

He panted, his heart beating like a jack-rabbit’s in his chest as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Merlin's ballsack,” he muttered out loud, shaking his head from where he’d all but collapsed onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t believe that happened. He'd made a good distraction, sure, but he’d barely managed to escape afterwards. That was far too close for comfort.

Evan, he remembered suddenly, a new burst of energy filling him. 

Throwing the Cloak on once more, he ran towards Dervish and Banges, relief flooding him as he saw Evan’s black-clad figure crouched behind a tree about twenty metres from the forest line. The street was swarming with pedestrians and Aurors, their red robes easy to spot amongst the crowd. 

That was one way to draw them into town, he supposed. 

Evan fell back in surprise when he pulled off the Cloak, landing on his arse.

“Oh hell, Potter! I thought you were stuck down there! Did you see the deer that jumped through the window?” he exclaimed. As quickly as he’d gotten excited, however, it disappeared. He froze suddenly, head tilting to one side as his eyes narrowed. 

James blinked at him innocently. “A deer?” he questioned, still violently out of breath. 

Evan reached out then, and James resisted the urge to flinch as he touched his cheek gently. His fingers came back bloody. James reflexively traced the same spot with his own hand, noticing the scratch for the first time. Adrenaline leaving his body, he became aware of how he ached, stinging pain emerging where his skin had been embedded with glass or scraped bloody by the rough stone of the roads. 

It felt like he'd just come out of a battle, which, in an abstract sort of way, he supposed he did. 

“You’re a fucking Animagus,” Evan said.

James’ brain scrambled to come up with an excuse. “I..." 

Evan frowned then, looking up and down his body in quick assessment. “You’re a fucking deer,” he accused. 

James bristled. “I’m a red deer,” he said pointedly—it was one of the largest kind. “A stag.”

Evan snorted, face still contorted in disbelief. “For Salazar’s sake—you’re seriously an Animagus?”

James shrugged. It was illegal, but Evan had just used the Imperius Curse at least four people, so he couldn't say much.

“Yeah,” he admitted finally. “Unregistered—I learnt last year.”

Evan nodded quietly, face pensive, then looked to the road, which was still in chaos. He suddenly burst into laughter. 

James’ eyes widened as Evan curled his legs closer to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he leaned forward to place his head against his knees. He laughed like a little kid, practically collapsing in on himself in glee. It was like watching a cat swimming.  

“Some distraction,“ he chortled, his hand over his mouth inadvertently spreading James' blood on his cheek. When he looked back up, James was surprised to notice how much more he looked like Violet—his eyes shiny and entertained, and his mouth in a toothy smile. The blood kind of ruined it, but James tried to ignore it. “I think half the Auror department showed up. They thought you were rabid, falling all over the place. Apparently, you had a ‘crazed’ look in your eye!” 

James felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. “The ground’s slippery!” he defended himself. “And they were trying to stun me! Can you believe that—stunning a wild animal?”

Evan cackled again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Holy shit,” he swore again. 

“There were Aurors in the shop—they must’ve gone in before we arrived. One of 'em was brothers with the cashier. They were going to go into the back, and, well, I needed to make a distraction,” James explained, laughing a bit too. It seemed like a miracle he managed to get out of that mess. 

“Thank you,” Evan said, pulling his wand from its holster on his calf. There was a palpable difference in his body language, and James felt pride fill him as he realised he may have finally won him over. It was like he was with a different person. “Stay still,” he ordered, grabbing James' chin and forcing him to tilt his head to the right.

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he healed the cut on his cheek, wiping the blood off of his face afterwards with a few rough strokes of his thumb. James kept his mouth shut—he didn’t want to wreck the moment with a lecture on hygiene.  

"He worries a lot," Regulus’ voice rang in his head as Rosier continued to fix him up, top to bottom. James resisted the urge to laugh—he thought Regulus was a bit crazy in his assessments of his friends before, but he got it now. Evan refused to budge until James let him thoroughly check him over, reminding him a bit of his mum, just as Barty had proved himself to be perhaps the most clever wizard James had met before.

Regulus had described them perfectly right. 

A storm had begun rolling in by the time Evan was content, having conjured bandages around both James' forearms and his thigh after plucking a glass shard free that’d remained wedged there. The street was cleared out mostly now, just a few wizards remained who worked on repairing the windows back to their original states. A glance at his watch showed it was just past ten am now. 

“They’ll be calling the Aurors soon,” he stated, glancing at the town in worry. He hoped their plan worked. The streets seemed more barren as it was—Evan had reported that the Aurors had been yelling at everyone to get inside when James had been running amok in town for their safety. 

Perhaps they should’ve just gone with rabid animals all along.

Evan bit his lip, nodding. Tension had filled his body again, his shoulders a tight line as he pushed himself up to his feet and then offered his hand to pull James up. “We should start heading back, I guess.”

They made their way back through the forest again, being careful to avoid being seen. Their mutual apprehension was notable as they walked, both listening for signs of trouble. James couldn’t stop agonising over every decision they’d made that day—would it be enough? Or did they just condemn perhaps countless people to their deaths?

They had just reached the well again when there was an explosion. 

James turned towards the noise, the blood draining from his face. Smoke billowed in the air from somewhere in town, pluming towards the sky, when suddenly there was another explosion and a scream. 

James' body froze with indecision. He knew he couldn't, but he wanted to help—he wanted to go closer. Beside him, Evan’s breath was shaky. James had nearly lost his will and was just about to dart forward when Evan spoke, his voice keeping his feet planted where they stood. 

“If my dad dies, they are going to take Violet,” he blurted, eyes unmoving from the smoke. James looked away from the blasts to Evan, noticing, for the first time that day, fear passing through his expression.

“What?” he said dumbly, brain not processing the sudden comment. 

“He’s a Death Eater.” Evan didn’t look away from the dark clouds of ash that rose from somewhere in the town. He didn’t move a single inch. “We’ll be orphans. If my dad dies, I mean. Violet—she’s eleven years old. And she’s, I mean, she’s in Gryffindor. And she’s a girl. I’m not sure, but—but they might try to take her and re-home her with someone. Someone good might want her.”

"It’s not fucking black and white—but I made my decision, okay? I’m here."

“Your dad won’t die today,” James tried to reassure, but he knew it held no power. He might—he could be dying right now. They might’ve killed him themselves. 

“Someone good won’t want me,” Evan said quietly. “We’re going to be separated.”

The town was quiet. Smoke still billowed from the centre of it, but no more explosions or noises could be heard. They waited with bated breath, but there was no noise. James felt confunded—he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel drawn towards the fight anymore—if he went, Evan would follow.

And he wasn’t sure what decisions would be made after that. Who Evan would fight for, in the face of it.

“We should go, “ Evan said suddenly, breaking the silence. Minutes had passed. “We have to get back to school before they realise we're gone.”

Just like that, whatever fear he’d let show was tucked away inside of himself again. When James turned to him, his face was emotionless, eyes hardened. James wanted to say something more, something to help, but no words came to mind. 

They stayed quiet on their walk back through the tunnel. 

“Use my Cloak,” James offered when they got to the fourth-floor hallway. It was empty. He had the Marauders' Map with him, and Evan needed to get to his friends. James wanted him to be back with people who could understand and help him more than James could. He was still in his leathers, hood lowered, revealing his tousled hair and mask loose around his neck. It was better he wasn’t caught anyway, looking how he did.

For a moment, it looked as if Evan was going to refuse, but then he peeled off his own cloak and traded it with him. “Stay covered up,” he ordered, nodding to the bandages on James' arms and legs. With a quick, “Thanks”, he disappeared out of view moments later.

James stood there for a moment as he wrapped himself up in the other boy’s cloak, watching the end of the hallway where he had disappeared. He felt desperate to find out what happened.

Had they done enough? Had any civilians been hurt? Had any Aurors? And now, too, he wondered—Evan’s family?

His spine straightened at a sudden meow. He turned quickly, looking at the grey tabby in guilt who trotted towards him from around the corner. 

Fuck.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, standing in the cat’s wake. “All students were ordered to strictly stay in their dormitories,” she said sternly. 

He tried to give her an innocent smile. “Right,” he said lightly. “I’ll head there right now.” 

She shook her head, eyes narrowed. “No, I think not, Mr. Potter.”

Double fuck.

. . .

He had been waiting outside of Dumbledore’s office for at least ten minutes when the door was finally opened, and Professor McGonagall gestured for him to enter. 

“I expect you to return to your dormitory immediately after,” she ordered strictly, and he nodded in agreement. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than to see his friends and sleep. Out of the danger’s way, he was quickly running out of steam—his stomach cramped in hunger, and his body was sore and aching. 

Dumbledore’s face looked graven when he entered, and his eyes seemed cold and distant instead of their usual twinkle. He assessed James from behind his half-moon spectacles, then gestured for him to sit. 

“Mr. Potter,” he stated, his voice tired. “Please, have a seat. I must say I did not expect you to be back in my office so soon after our last meeting.” James didn’t allow an ounce of guilt to betray his expression. “A terrible sickness had circulated the school this morning, I am sure you are aware,” he started, his back turned to James as he walked the perimeter of his office. “Madam Pomfrey couldn’t make heads or tails of it—almost six hundred students suddenly unable to keep a thing down. Did you experience such symptoms today, James?”

He shook his head 'no.' “No, I didn’t, sir. But my roommates—they were quite ill,” he said, sticking to their script. He was glad Barty had convinced everyone to poison themselves. 

“Quite lucky, you were. Truly was the most dreadful illness,” Dumbledore said, sitting across from James. He moved the bowl of lemon drops closer to him, his blue eyes piercing where they met his own. “Help yourself, of course,”

“Thank you.” James popped a sweet into his mouth, his mouth filling with saliva at its taste. He was starving—it was a struggle not to shove a handful of them into his mouth as if they were a meal. 

“Minerva seems convinced that it was a misguided prank. Not once in all of Hogwarts history has there been an incidence of food poisoning—the House-elves take the utmost pride in creating and providing nutritious meals for the learning student’s mind, you see.”

“Do you agree with her, sir?” James asked after a minute, heart palpating just slightly in his chest. 

Dumbledore looked at him knowingly. “I highly doubt a single student could orchestrate such a feat,“ he said, and then, in an ominous tone, “but if it was, perhaps a thank you would be in order. It may have saved more than just a couple of lives.”

James widened his eyes just slightly. “Saved lives?” he questioned innocently. “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore sighed, his shoulders sagging as he looked considerably more his age for a moment. “I’ve just received report of an attack in Hogsmeade. It seems Death Eaters had targeted it—on a Hogwarts weekend, no less. It was a blessing no students were there.”

“An attack?” James asked, trying to look shocked. “Was anyone hurt?”

Dumbledore rubbed his beard thoughtfully, eyes calculating. “That is what is curious,“ he said, head tilting as he studied James. "It was entirely unsuccessful. Not a single civilian was killed. The Aurors had been called there already on alternative business this morning—Voldemort’s followers were able to be subdued before it hardly began.”

James didn’t allow himself to react to the relief that flooded through his chest. 

“It was almost as if someone knew about the attack and made certain no students or civilians would be left unprotected,” Dumbledore added, his pale eyes locked onto James’ own. 

“Who?” James asked dumbly. There was no evidence—his absence was covered for the entire day by his friends. It couldn’t be proven. Nothing could be proven. 

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed the slightest amount. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

James had to remind himself to breathe. 

Finally, Dumbledore looked away. 

“You may return to your dormitory, Mr. Potter,” he dismissed him with a wave. “And do be careful—the pipes exploded over the Trophy Room—I recommend detouring through the Clock Tower.”

James nodded, rising from his chair and moving away to the door slowly. “I will.”

“And James—" Dumbledore’s voice caught him just before he reached the door. He turned back to him, his hand still on the knob. “Expect to hear from a colleague of mine in the near future. The Ministry is moving forward with the Auror program changes. He was most interested to hear about you amongst the applicants.”

“Okay,” James nodded, pride swelling in his chest. Perhaps he was being paranoid—for a moment there earlier, he swore that Dumbledore knew what he had done. “What’s the name, sir? Of your colleague?” 

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched upwards as he assessed him. 

“Alastor Moody.” 

Chapter Text

Regulus watched out the window as the world flew by in lines of colour. The compartment was quiet, as it often was on the way back home for the holidays. None of them were excited at the prospect of being with their families for the next two weeks. A toe nudged his shin, gaining his attention. He flicked his eyes to Evan lazily, not bothering to lift his forehead off of the window.

“You okay, Reg?”

He tilted his head forward in a half-assed nod, not bothering to speak. Evan and Barty shared a glance. He wished they wouldn’t do that.

“You haven’t spoken much since you got back last night.”

He hadn’t. It felt like it’d take too much energy to—he just couldn’t be bothered. 

“Did something happen with James?”

James. 

Evan had converted to using his first name over the past week since they’d gone to Hogsmeade together. They’d been tight-lipped about the details of the morning, but it was successful. One Death Eater had been killed and another captured before the rest fled, but no civilians had been caught in the crossfire. 

Evan hadn’t received word that it was anybody related to him. The event had put him on edge, though—he had thrown himself into training again as if his life depended on it. Especially when his dad beckoned for him to come home for the holidays.  

“No,” he said plainly after a moment, his mind belatedly realising they’d been waiting for him to respond.

“Right,” Barty said. 

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Did you guys get into a fight?”

When he’d gotten back to their dormitory the night before, Evan had taken one look at him and dragged him to their duelling room. Regulus threw curse after curse at him, casting until he was dizzy with exertion. Evan didn’t make him talk then—he faked ignorance to the hot tears that had streamed down Regulus' face and how he yelled. He took the hits silently until Regulus all but collapsed and then dragged him back to their dorm to take some Sleeping Draught and pass out. 

Apparently, he wasn’t allowing him the same grace now. 

“Yeah,” he said glumly after a moment. 

I acted like a complete lunatic, and then I was an asshole to him. 

“Did he do something?”

Yes. It was James’ fault what had happened, after all. To his friends, he just shrugged. Making them hate James wouldn’t achieve anything, and deep down, he knew it wasn't justified. 

“Would seeing him help?” Evan asked. 

Regulus sighed. “It won’t be until after the break.” He’d considered trying to find James on the train—he knew he had wanted to talk to him again because he had to silence the mirror to avoid his attempts—but decided against it. It was risky; he didn’t want to get more upset or distracted when he was just hours away from home. He needed his mind to be clear. 

He had to focus on Rudolphus.

He was scared, too. Regulus didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t want to hear James tell him it was over. He didn’t think he was going to break up with him, but he wasn't positive that he wouldn't, either. Maybe this was the thing that would make him get sick of Regulus, and he didn’t think he could handle that. Not right now, not when his sanity felt like it was teetering on an edge.  

He left the mirror at school in a last-minute decision. Ending his training with Rudolphus was the only thing that mattered—everything else was secondary. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. 

Barty and Evan exchanged another look. 

“We had an idea,“ Barty said, leaning forward on his elbows. “If you wanted to see him, that is.”

Regulus lifted his head off of the window to look at them more directly. 

“My parents keep me under lock and key—you know it’s not possible.”  

Barty smiled mischievously. “About that.“

. . .

“Welcome back, Master Regulus.”

Kreacher was waiting for him at the Apparition point as per normal, his bony arms crossed over his chest and his left foot pushed forwards so his hips cocked. Regulus couldn’t help but smile at him, his mood improving the slightest amount since he’d woken up that morning. 

“I missed you, Kreacher,” he said fondly. His lip curved further as Kreacher’s ears perked up despite his frown and disapproving “hmph”. Seeing his oldest friend always made him feel a bit better. 

He grabbed his hand to Side-Along with him, giving it a gentle squeeze before they separated, now in his bedroom. As per their routine, Regulus crawled on his bed to sit cross-legged while Kreacher slowly unpacked his trunk, item by item. 

“How have you been?” he asked, adjusting slightly when something pressed into his hip. He pulled the sharp metal piece out of his pocket, mood wavering as he looked at the stag. He placed it on his bedside table for safekeeping.

Kreacher muttered nonsensically to himself for a moment before speaking louder. “Kreacher’s bones ache, and his ears ring all day long,” he complained grumpily. Regulus frowned in worry. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kreacher. You work so hard for us.” A little bit of compliments went a long way with the House-elf—he only wanted to be recognised for his service. Regulus was guessing his mother had been continuing her steady evolution into a ghost for him to be so desperate for acknowledgement. 

As he suspected, Kreacher’s ears perked up a bit further. Regulus got out of bed and dug through his trunk for a moment, retrieving a black glass jar from his toiletries bag. It was the muscle cream James’ dad had made.  

“I don’t know what to do about your hearing, but let's try this cream for your joints.” 

Regulus purposefully didn’t phrase it as a question. He wanted Kreacher to accept it, and if he had asked him directly, he would have said no. Kreacher was so kind to him—he deserved to be looked after in return and even spoiled on occasion. Especially if it had to do with his health, Regulus thought.  

Taking a scoop with his finger out of the lotion, he knelt on the floor, gently running his hand along Kreacher’s knobby shoulder before rubbing on the cream. Kreacher practically vibrated in relief. He could feel the poor elf’s bones grind against each other as he moved. Biting his tongue, Regulus took his time to treat his neck and shoulders. 

“I don’t like the smell of it, actually,” Regulus said once he finished. “Not a huge fan of mint—perhaps you could remove the cream from my room for me?”

Kreacher’s eyes were glassy as he nodded. “Of course, Master Regulus. Kreacher will remove it right away!”

He disappeared with a 'pop,' but Regulus stayed unmoving, sitting on the floor for a bit longer. Helping Kreacher had made him feel just the slightest amount better. He looked up to the gold stag on his dresser, and gave it a nod. 

“I’ll fix things,” he promised it, guilt nudging him.

Right after he dealt with Rudolphus.  

Feeling motivated, he pushed himself up to his feet and crawled back onto his bed. Straightening his spine against the wall, he shut his eyes, focusing on drawing his breath all the way down into his belly.

Clear your mind, he coached himself. 

. . .

“Pull back your shoulders, Regulus—you look poor,” his mother snapped at him from his right. They were only halfway through supper, and it was already the second reprimand he’d received. He corrected his posture immediately.  

“My apologies,” he said politely. 

It’d been all the regular conversations so far—his father inquired on his grades, and his mother on his social standing. He was the perfect heir—his Occlumency was so well practised that it was practically child’s play to feed his mother memories she’d approve of, keeping James and his planned betrayal more than safely out of reach. 

His dad was expressing his opinion on the failed Hogsmeade raid from the past weekend. Even at the peak of his rant, Regulus kept his body perfectly under control. His hands were steady as he cut into his steak, and his voice remained even. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been here last, his progress was inconceivable. 

Thank you, Severus, he chuckled inside his head. He could only hope his combative magic had improved as much as well. 

“You are to resume training with Rudolphus tomorrow morning,” his father informed him, right on course. “Hogsmeade was an embarrassment—no son of mine will be caught unprepared like those buffoons.” 

“Of course,” Regulus said cordially. “I have been practicing frequently over the term—I believe he’ll be impressed.”

Or maimed.  

His father nodded. “Good—that’s good, Regulus. The war is almost at its tipping point; your usefulness cannot be overshadowed. You are attending the luncheon at the Malfoy’s next Wednesday?”

He nodded in the affirmative. His father knew that, of course. He likely arranged for it to begin with.

“The Dark Lord will be in attendance. It is of the utmost importance you make a good impression.”

Regulus nodded, feeling the panic in the back of his mind thrash at his father’s words as he continued to give him sage advice. He was going to meet the Dark Lord...

It wasn’t just his honour that depended on impressing him—it was his life as well. 

“I expect you to network appropriately,” his father warned, his eyes burning into him. Regulus vocalised his understanding, knowing it was a threat. Don’t isolate yourself from the group; be social and charming; make people like you. Or, more simply put—

Be more like Sirius was. 

It didn’t matter how well-behaved he was—he would never be able to hold a candle to Sirius’ light. 

“Don’t disappoint me,” his father said gravely. “I just want what’s best for you—I hope you can understand that. Things are changing quickly, and we must stay on top of them or face ruin. Everything will be yours one day—it is all for you, in the end.”

He nodded in understanding, his mother’s shrill voice making him wince as she called for more wine. Her glass filled up again immediately. “Have you met a satisfactory partner yet?” she pressed after a sip. 

He shook his head 'no' again. It wasn’t as if new students were arriving every day; he wasn’t sure who she expected him to meet who he hadn’t already over the past five years. 

His parents shared a look. 

“Still no prospective Black heirs—not from the primary line, nor the secondary.”

“Bellatrix and Narcissa still aren’t having luck?” he asked, the words he was expected to say flowing from his mouth like water in a river. He couldn’t give a shit if either of them had kids. Bellatrix, truthfully, he hoped never got pregnant. Not with Rudolphus around, at least. 

“No,” his mother said, eyes wide in animated horror. “Cygnus has hired the best Healers in the country—Merlin knows if they don’t have luck, what more could be done. If my nieces are truly barren…” she trailed off, expression graven. 

“Perhaps it’s the men?” Regulus questioned. 

His mother cackled suddenly—a jarring, quick noise—with her hand coming up over her heart in shock. Orion just looked at him sharply. “Lucius and Rudolphus both are of the Sacred Twenty-Eight bloodlines. The only wizard with better breeding is yourself!” he said, affronted. “Cygnus did not settle when it came to his daughters. To even entertain such an accusation that it is the Head of the House’s fault..." 

Regulus was pretty sure that it didn’t work that way, but he didn’t argue. It was never the husband’s fault, of course. He should’ve thought more before he’d spoken.

He needed to be more careful moving forward. Just one dinner into the holiday break, and he’d already made several errors. Filling his role felt more like putting on an act this holiday than it had previously. Perhaps he really was changing. 

. . .

That night, he sat cross-legged on his bed again, facing the gold stag. 

All the anger, fear, and anxiety from the day wavered just under the surface of his consciousness. He didn’t move—if he did, he worried he would grab his wand, which he had thrown to the other side of the room. He wasn’t going to harm himself, he decided. All the energy under his skin that was crawling and demanding to be released, he’d direct into his performance the next day. 

Rudolphus would receive it. Not himself. 

“It ends tomorrow,” he promised the stag, speaking in a low voice. Only then would he allow himself to think about his fight with James.

He hated Rudolphus—

He hated him. He ruined him. 

He was going to fix things, though. He was going to make everything alright again.

. . .

“Reggie, right on time.”

Regulus kept his face impassive as he faced the man. It’s your fault, he thought towards him venomously. He’d been up almost the entire night prior. His nerves were frayed, and his body on edge. This ends today, he thought half-deliriously while Rudolphus prattled on, following him down the stairs. 

“You look a bit peaky—everything alright?”

Rudolphus looked at him appraisingly, unmoving. His dark eyes were confused, and his hand paused on the door to the training room, leaving it open. Regulus’ heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest.

Shut the door, he urged. He wanted to get this over with. 

“I’ve been working on my martial magic at school,” he said instead, turning on his heel and taking several steps into the room. He heard the heavy door slam shut after just a few moments, sealing them in. He could sense the older man following him, just as he’d expected. He resisted the urge to turn around so he could see him coming. 

He had the benefit of surprise on his side. Rudolphus had no reason to attack him with his back turned. Not yet, anyway. 

“That’s good, kid. There’s no such thing as too much practice.”

In the centre of the room now, Regulus turned slowly to face him. He was glad to see they were still several paces from one another. He didn’t want to get too close to Rudolphus—he didn’t trust his body not to betray him if he did. Rudolphus gave a confused laugh after a moment, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He knew something was up.

“What’s going on?" he asked. "You know you can talk to me, right? I always have time for you.”

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Not having fun?”

He’d been beside himself in excitement when Rudolphus had first noticed him. He and Bellatrix had just been engaged—the supper had been to celebrate it, in fact. Regulus was still having to see Henrietta every day, an old witch who was supposed to fix his lisp and mumbling when it'd happened. He'd been sitting in the corner of the party, quiet and well-behaved as not to draw attention to himself, when a tall, dark-haired man had crouched to his side. His eyes hadn't just looked at him, they'd seen him.

“I don’t think I want your time,” he said coldly. Words he wished he had said nearly a decade ago. 

Rudolphus’ head cocked in confusion. He played it off with a laugh again. “Hey now—what’s with the attitude? Did something happen at school?”

“You’re so smart—you are picking this up way faster than your brother. You should be proud of yourself.”

Never in his life had Regulus been better at something than Sirius. Sirius was bigger than him, and older, and smarter, and more charismatic, too. He had yet to start rebelling—small bouts of reckless excitability, maybe, but it was nothing more than harmless childish fun back then—and was the revered Heir of the House of Black.

Rudolphus always chose him, though. He always made time for Regulus, even though he wasn't as interesting of a person. Even though he wasn't important.

“I think we should duel. I want to show you what I’ve learnt.” 

“You want to duel?” Rudolphus asked, raising an eyebrow. He thought Regulus was being stupid—he was underestimating him.

“That’s a good boy, Reggie. You’re so good. Merlin—I can't believe it.”

Regulus had been so desperate for his praise. For his affection. For any spare drops of love he could get, ostracised in a family that cared only about appearances with parents who didn't believe in warmth. He'd actually thought it'd been love. He actually thought that he'd been loved. 

“Yeah, a duel.”

"Sure," Rudolphus laughed again, shaking his head a bit incredulously. “No tears when you land on your arse this time, though, alright?"

“You’re so beautiful. I like that everyone overlooks you. It means I have you to myself.”

Rudolphus was all he had. He was his family, his mentor, and, for many years, his only friend. Rudolphus took care of him—he understood him. Regulus' monster hadn't arrived baring yellowed teeth and furled horns. His monster wore a mask of a friendly smile and made him laugh. His monster didn't growl or roar—his monster had spoken words of love.

They faced each other on opposing ends of the room. Regulus’ wand had already found its way into his hand. He bowed forward on his cue, maintaining eye contact with Rudolphus the entire time.

It was time. There was no going back now. 

“You know what people do when they love each other, right?”

He wanted so badly to be loved. He'd trusted Rudolphus blindly, valuing his words over his own body. Over his own feelings. Good or bad, good or bad, good or bad? It was whatever he was told it was. How was he supposed to have known what love was? No one had shown him it before. Not back then, at least. Not like now.

He pushed the memories of Rudolphus away, and thought of James. 

Rudolphus had tricked him—that wasn’t love. What he had with James, though.

That was love.

And now he knew better. 

“Bombardo!”

Rudolphus stumbled at his sudden attack, eyes widening imperceptibly as he deflected it away. Regulus didn’t hesitate, he took a step forward and cast again, forcing him another step backwards. Rudolphus swore, throwing up a shield again. He side-stepped to the right, out of range from his stunner.

“What the hell?!”

“Confringo!” 

Rudolphus deflected the curse again, face contorting into anger. “This is training!” he shouted, but he sent his own offensive spell towards him regardless. Regulus blocked it easily, erecting shields a second nature to him now. 

“Expulso!”

“Imperio!”

Regulus ducked out of the way of the Unforgivable Curse, protecting himself as he moved from the subsequent hexes sent his way with a silver barrier. The moment there was a break in his casting, Regulus wordlessly sent a stunner just high of Rudolphus, quickly targeting his legs right after he looked up to deflect it.

Evan had taught him that trick. 

It worked perfectly—Rudolphus was sent flailing to the ground, his nose hitting the concrete with a resounding crack as his feet were pushed out from under him. “Incancerous!” Regulus snarled, not missing a beat, stalking over to him. 

He flipped his old mentor over so he was on his back, pointing his wand at his head. Blood covered Rudolphus' face. His nose was obviously broken, the shape of it crooked and deformed, with thick streams of crimson pouring out of it onto his cheeks and jaw. He spat out a wad of red, his teeth painted as well. He didn’t so much as wince—he just stared at Regulus, his eyes furious.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, pushing himself to sit up as far as he could with his elbows. Even on the ground and restrained, Rudolphus seemed unperturbed. He didn’t realise the danger he was in. He still didn't understand. 

“I trusted you!” Regulus yelled, his throat suddenly feeling as if it were closing. He knelt to the ground, shoving his wand under Rudolphus’ neck so he was forced to tilt his head back. His black eyes never left him. For a moment, there was silence, the only sound which could be heard was Regulus’ panting. And then Rudolphus‘ eyebrows rose, his eyes gleaming in sudden understanding.

“You trusted me?”

Regulus felt everything begin to collapse inside of him. The carefully constructed walls failed, a torrent of emotions rushing past them. “I was a kid!” he screamed. “I didn’t know better—"

“You didn’t know better?” Rudolphus scoffed, his voice dripping in disbelief. I’ll kill you, Regulus thought, but he didn’t cast. The words stuck in his throat—Avada Kedavra. Two little words—the ones Rudolphus himself had taught him to use—but he couldn't release them from his chest. His hand shook violently. Suddenly, Rudolphus began howling.

“Oh, that’s such bullshit!”

Regulus fought to inhale. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Rudolphus, his insides freezing. What?

“You knew all a-fucking-long what was going on,” Rudolphus snorted. “You were young, but you weren’t a fucking idiot. Don’t come at me with some sob story—you and I both know that’s not what happened.”

“I was a kid,” he tried again, voice wavering. Rudolphus laughed even louder, drowning out his words. 

“You were a fuckin' tease, Reggie. You knew exactly what you were doing."

“I didn’t!" His words sounded weaker each time he opened his mouth. With each attempt, he felt smaller, as if his voice was taking pieces of himself with it, only to get snuffed out in the world. His eyes burned, frustration leaking from his eyes in hot tears. He was a child—a child who no one ever seemed to hear. That no one bothered to listen to. 

“Oh! You didn’t? You thought that chasing me down at every party we were at was normal? Did Sirius try to get married men on their own? Did Sirius ever sit on my lap or ask to go for walks, just the two of us?”

Regulus swallowed, his voice failing. That’s not what happened...

“No, he didn’t," Rudolphus answered himself. "Because that’s not normal! And I asked you, Reggie! I asked you every day if it was okay—you never said no. Not once! You were all too happy to—"

“I didn’t know!” Regulus screamed suddenly, finally shutting Rudolphus up. “I was a CHILD!"

“You didn’t know that fuckin' your cousin’s husband was wrong?" he scorned. Regulus couldn't breathe. His pulse pounded in his head, louder and louder. "Why didn’t you tell anyone, huh? I'll tell you why—because you knew it was wrong, but you wanted to do it anyway! You fucking begged me for it. You were always telling me how much you loved me. You said you'd do anything for me—don't pretend for one fuckin' second—"

“Crucio!”

Rudolphus burst into laughter. 

He shoved Regulus’ wand away from his throat, his hands free from the constraints. “You have to mean it!” he yelled half-crazed, baring his stained teeth at him. The blood from his nose had spilt down onto his chest, the front of his shirt splattered with red. Panic overwhelmed Regulus when Rudolphus suddenly reached for him, clawing to grab onto the collar of his shirt.

“Sectumsepra!” he yelled, scrambling out of the way. Rudolphus’ shirt ripped open, a thick slash opening up along his chest. Blood poured from it like a waterfall, his eyes widening in surprise. For a second, Regulus froze, staring at the gash across his chest and feeling nothing but fear. 

“What did you do?" Rudolphus was staring down at his chest in shock, his breath ragged and voice wavering. “Reggie—what did you do?” he repeated, looking back up at him in betrayal. His black eyes were wide, accusatory and unrecognising. He stared at Regulus as if he had never seen him before. It spurred him into motion—

He wasn't a child anymore. He wouldn't be quiet. 

“Stay away from me,” Regulus hissed, crowding closer to him. Anger overwhelmed him, his vision going red like the blood pouring from Rudolphus' body. He hated him. He was terrified of him. “You will never touch me again, do you understand?” He wrapped his hand around Rudolphus’ neck, the blood making his skin slippery. “Do. You. Understand?” he growled, his face just inches from the other man’s. They’d been that close many times before, but never before had Regulus had the power. 

Now he did. And he wanted to make sure Rudolphus knew it. 

He tightened his grip threateningly.

“Okay,” Rudolphus said finally, his voice weak. Pain laced his expression, but past it, anger. It burned through from his core as if trying to set Regulus alight with just his stare. Regulus shoved him backwards so he sprawled on the floor, standing to his feet. He'd done it. This was it; he was finally free.

He turned on his heel and headed to the door. This would be the last time he would be in this room, he promised himself. Never again. He was walking away from Rudolphus and washing his hands clean of him. No longer would he live under his control. He'd finally done it. 

“Crucio.”

Regulus didn’t have time to process what he'd heard before he was on the ground screaming. 

It hurt so much he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. The pain was all-encompassing. He wasn't entirely sure of even what he felt other than just, pain. It was so potent it took away his ability to think so that nothing was left in his mind. Nothing but, 

Let me die. Please, just let me die.

Time skewed, stretching on for eternity. He didn't realise when the curse had been lifted at first, his body still convulsing with phantom jolts of electricity. It didn't go away for a long time—he would still feel the haunting aches of it in the weeks following.

The first thing he noticed when he came to himself was the taste of copper filling his mouth. Regulus coughed violently, choking on his blood as his chest heaved, his lungs burning in desperation for air.

Then Rudolphus was there again, dropping to his knees beside Regulus. His hand closed on his throat in a mirror image of how Regulus had held him just minutes earlier.

“You didn’t win,” Rudolphus snarled, swaying with glazed eyes. “I’ll always be with you—in your dreams, your thoughts. Every time you get close to somebody, you will think of me. Do you understand that? You can’t escape; you’re mine.”

Regulus shoved him off, scrambling away. Rudolphus fell over easily, his head lolling in fatigue. Regulus stumbled as he tried to make it to the door, his heart racing in his chest. He ran as if demons were snapping at his heels, their gnarled claws trying to grab at his ankles as he fled. 

“I’ll get you back, Reggie," Rudolphus' voice crooned after him. “This isn’t over—I’m going to get you back.”

As he scrambled up the stairs, his hands left blood-smeared prints along the house where he clutched onto the walls and the banister. Regulus fell through the Floo head first, crumpling in front of their fireplace with a loud thud. The silence of Grimmauld Place was overwhelming. He scampered on the ground across the room, flipping and staring at the empty fireplace as if Rudolphus would burst out of it at any moment. He froze in fear, his ragged breath filling the room.

A beat passed. 

Then two. The Floo didn't flare to life. 

“Master Regulus?” Kreacher’s voice asked suddenly, pulling his gaze away. He approached timidly from the living room, his large eyes widened in worry. 

Regulus burst into tears. 

. . .

“Is there anything else Master Regulus needs?” Kreacher asked from his bedside. He hadn’t left him alone since he’d gotten back from the Lestrange Manor. 

Regulus' body was sore—every few moments, his muscles still spasmed, cramping in aftershocks from the Cruciatus Curse. With time, it was diminishing, however. Kreacher had charmed his bedsheets to be warm, the heat soothing the aches and strains in his muscles and joints.

“I think I’m okay, Kreacher. Thank you.”

The House-elf glanced around uncertainly, after a moment, going to refold some trousers in his closet. Regulus knew he must’ve been in bad shape when he’d first gotten home for Kreacher to be so worried. He’d seen him hit rock bottom many times before—his mental state must’ve been substantial for him to have gained this sort of treatment. 

He couldn’t remember anything from getting through the Floo to being in bed, however. It was one big blank space in his mind. He knew he had a bath—his hair was wet, and his body was free of blood. He was bandaged in several places as well, cuts and scrapes cared for he hadn’t been aware he even had. He was exhausted, like he’d just run forty miles, and reality around him felt hazy. Despite it all, though, he felt…

Better. 

He’d done it. Albeit very messily, and not without getting himself cursed in the process, but he’d done it. He’d stood up to Rudolphus. 

He was freed. 

“I’ll get you back, Reggie."

He pushed Rudolphus’ ominous parting words out of his head. It was declarations of a desperate man, he knew. Regulus was just going to keep getting older, and stronger. With each day, Regulus would just get further and further out of his grasp. He would be okay. 

“I really am okay, Kreacher. Thank you. I know you have to start preparing for supper soon—I’ll call if I need you, okay?” he tried again. He didn’t want to get him in trouble. 

Kreacher put away the laundry he’d been pretending to clean up after a moment, approaching his bed. He rested a hand on Regulus’ arm, injury-free. It’d been almost a month now. “Kreacher is very proud of Master Regulus.” His large eyes were shining. “Kreacher is most honoured to serve him.”

Regulus smiled, tears welling up in his eyes at the random words of kindness. Before he could respond, though, Kreacher disappeared. Alone in his room again, Rudolphus’ bloodied face haunted him. He pulled the stag down from his bedside table, holding it close to his chest as he curled up around it. 

“I did it,” he whispered.

His heart felt heavy in his chest as he thought about James. About their fight, and how he’d left him so selfishly afterwards. 

“I’ll always be with you—in your dreams, your thoughts. Every time you get close to somebody, you will think of me."

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching. Rudolphus was right. He hated it, but he knew he was right. He got rid of him, but his fingerprints were still left all over him. He wasn’t able to make them vanish, no matter how hard he tried. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the stag, finally letting himself think about their fight. 

James had been more than pleased when Regulus finally got to see him on Sunday night for his birthday. In addition to the success of the weekend, James was officially seventeen. They’d shared in their excitement together—it was a bit awkward, and involved a lot of fumbling and nerves, but they’d finally done it. 

They’d had sex.

The first times had gone so well—on James’ birthday, and two days after that. They both were so cautious not to hurt each other. Regulus realised he liked sex a whole lot more when it was like that. He'd been nervous leading up to it, but it had gone okay. He thought everything was going to be fine from there on out.

On their last night together, however, it all fell apart. Two little words and suddenly he had forgotten he was with James at all.

“Reggie, fuck."

It was like a bucket of water had been dumped on him.

Suddenly, Regulus couldn’t move. Panic clawed at his throat through his chest, his breath being ripped out of him. He was in the training room with Rudolphus again, his heavy weight holding him down. The softness of the bed was gone, replaced with the stiff padding of training mats. There were no bookshelves or television set or record player around him anymore—Regulus looked and could only see grey and stained concrete.

Run, his mind had screamed. Run run run run.

For once, his body obeyed. Regulus shoved Rudolphus off of him, scrambling backwards. He’d never fought him before, he’d never even tried. Rudolphus was going to hurt him, he knew. He was kind and gentle, until he was not. He had to get away. Regulus had to go—

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” someone babbled, but the words rushed past his ears. A sharp inhale sent a flare of pain down his chest, his sternum feeling as if it were being crushed. Regulus' skin felt sharp and prickly all over. He curled into himself, trying to protect himself from the hurt. From the pain, he knew would be soon to come. 

But no one touched him. No one hurt him. Time passed, and he was left alone.  Slowly, Regulus came back to himself. He forced the terror down, digging his nails into his calves as hard as he could, focusing on the pain. And then someone's voice cut through the storm in his head.

“Reg? Reg, I’m sorry—"

James.

He forced another breath down, shame overwhelming him. Confusion. Embarrassment. Lingering fear.

“ I'm—" he tried to speak, stopping when his voice came out croaky. Regulus didn’t understand what had happened—he was with James. He'd known he was with James...  

“No, don’t apologise,” James said. It took Regulus a long time to be able to look at him. He found himself pressed against the wall when he finally opened his eyes, his knees drawn to his chest and his back aching where it pressed on the hard surface. James’ eyes creased with worry. They looked at him so intently Regulus had to look away, unable to do anything but glance at them.

“What happened? Did I—did I hurt you?” he asked, voice laden with concern.

Regulus' stomach had rolled in guilt again at James’ words. “No," he said, looking back up to meet his gaze again. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

He couldn’t push Rudolphus from his head. Even with the memories locked away, his body remembered, aching and searing in phantom pain from his touch.

But it was completely different with him than it was with James.

It wasn’t him he was feeling the remnants of—it was James. Rudolphus hadn't touched him in months. 

He just wanted to forget.

He wanted him gone.

Regulus leaned forward then, reaching to kiss James. He wanted to cover up all the spots where he felt Rudolphus still; he wanted to erase him from his mind. He didn't want to think about what had just happened. He didn't want to think about what he remembered. Just James—he only wanted James. Always James.

But James pulled away from him, looking flustered.

“Reg, wait.” 

“It’s fine, let’s just—" 

“No.” James’ voice was firm, sending Regulus reeling back.

The rejection was like a slap in his face.

He doesn’t want you.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

“You don’t want me anymore then?” he asked in a low voice, the air suddenly cold. The half-second of silence that followed was more than enough of an answer. He scrambled to gather his clothes, pulling on his pants quickly before stepping out of bed to grab his shirt. He pulled it on hastily—he had dropped the glamour on his arm, but it had been unnoticed.

“What? No!” James clambered out of bed after him, nearly tripping as he tried to tug his own underwear on. “Regulus, stop,” he ordered, coming to stand directly in front of him. His eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly as his shoulders heaved.

“It’s fine,” Regulus told him briskly, struggling to do up the buttons on his shirt. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get them into the holes. Everything felt as if it were collapsing around him. Another button slipped through his fingers, the shirt falling open again. He hit his fists against his hips in frustration, wanting to cry out. Everything felt wrong. 

He could feel Rudolphus crowding against him, pushing his hands away and helping with the buttons himself. Regulus' heart sped up when he took extra time on the top one, popping his collar and smirking before he reached for his bow from the dresser. He carefully threaded it around his neck, smiling as he tied it for him. Regulus stayed still, letting him dress him adorningly—

“Hey, stop!” James said, raising his voice. Regulus’ eyes flicked to him, burning, his hands in trembling fists at his side. His shirt was still undone. Rudolphus wasn't there. "Just talk to me, please! I know something’s wrong,” 

“I told you not to call me Reggie!” he accused, his chest heaving. With horror, he realised he had started crying at some point, his cheeks wet with tears. He wiped at them angrily, swiping at his cheeks as more and more seemed to appear, endless rivers down his face.

“What? I didn’t—" Regulus could see the moment James remembered, his eyebrows moving upwards in understanding. “I’m sorry, Regulus,” he said, his voice softer and mouthing his name purposefully. Like it could take back what he’d done.“It was an accident, but it… it isn’t just that, is it?"

“I told you not to call me that,” Regulus repeated. This was all James’ fault. If he hadn’t called him that stupid nickname, then none of this would’ve happened. He told him not to do that. He told him. 

“It really was an accident, okay? I’ve never called you that, not since you asked me not to. Sirius calls you that all the time, though, and it just came out. I wasn’t thinking."

Regulus could barely hear him as he grabbed his cloak from the ground.

James pleaded with him to stay once more. “Please, just sit down and talk to me. We have to go home tomorrow and—We can’t leave it like this,” he said, his voice cracking. "Please, Regulus. Let me help—"

“Do you want to have sex with me anymore?”

Regulus didn’t know why he had asked that. He’d stopped on his way out the door, turning to face him in frustration. He knew James was going to say no, but the rejection stung all the same when he shook his head. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He couldn’t stay here.

He doesn’t want you, the voice in his head repeated.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Reg. And I know something’s wrong,“ James tried to explain, but Regulus cut him off. He couldn’t hear anymore. He couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t even want to think about it.

He just couldn’t. He was barely surviving right now, as it were.

“There’s really no need for me to be here then, is there?” he said hastily, running from the room. He didn’t wait to see if James would call after him, he didn’t even turn to see if he’d watched him go. He’d barely gotten back to his dorm before he lost it entirely, crawling behind the curtains of his bed to lay with his demons alone. 

He didn’t want to think about it before, but he let himself now. It wasn’t James' fault—it never had been. It wasn't the name, it wasn't what he'd said, or did, or refused to do afterwards. It had nothing to do with him at all.

It was Regulus. 

“I’ll always be with you—in your dreams, your thoughts. Every time you get close to somebody, you will think of me."

It was Regulus, and it was Rudolphus. James was nothing but an audience member to the final act of a play he hadn't even known he had been watching. He didn't know because Regulus had never so much as told him. He didn't want to admit it then, and he didn't want to admit it now, but he knew he needed to. It wasn’t fair to keep this from him anymore. He didn't deserve how Regulus had treated him, not after everything they'd been through. Even if James might leave him, he knew he needed to tell him.

"I said I'd try to fix it," he said softly to the stag, petting the ridge of its back with one finger. "I keep my promises."

. . .

He managed to make it down for supper. 

Before he sat down, however, he became aware that his parents had obviously received some news. They were sitting in tense silence, awaiting his arrival. 

Maybe Rudolphus died, he thought. He imagined he would’ve called for help as soon as Regulus had left, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe they couldn’t stop the bleeding, or perhaps there was no one there to answer his call. Whatever it was, he doubted it was good news. He’d accept any punishment they could hand out if it meant getting out of Rudolphus’ grasp, however. His own family wouldn't send him to Azkaban for murder, anyway—it'd be dealt with personally.

“Rudolphus Firecalled me this afternoon,” his father stated, ending his fantasy about his death rather quickly. “A Master Duellist at fifteen! Quite the achievement indeed."

Regulus sat back in his chair, surprised. 

“And what timing! Just a week before you are to meet the Dark Lord. He was impressed by your reputation already, but this truly will reflect well on your image.”

He nodded dumbly, filing away the information in his head. He had expected to have to make an excuse to avoid future training with Rudolphus, but it seemed the man had taken care of it himself already. “Yes, I don’t think I have much more to gain by training with him,” he said softly. 

His father frowned. “There is always more to learn, and you must upkeep your practice."

“I have,” he interrupted, keeping his voice steady even at his father's look of surprise. It was bold of him, he knew. Interrupting was something that Sirius did, not meek little Regulus. “I’ve spent countless hours at school training. Rudolphus is busy—the arrangement is to neither of our benefits,” he explained. “Perhaps I can continue to train with Evan Rosier over the break? If you would allow my absence, of course. He was trained by his father, whose reputation precedes him, I am sure.”

Orion looked thoughtful, stroking his chin. “They are necessitous—" he said uncertainly, but Regulus interrupted once again quickly. 

“Politically and socially, the Rosiers are pathetic—I am aware,” he agreed. “In combat, however, they are unparalleled. Gareth Rosier is single-handily responsible for the expiration of more than four dozen Aurors, and Evan and his brothers were all personally trained under him. Fighting is as natural to them as speaking or walking. I want to be the best,” he said seriously. 

His father smiled widely then, the movement unnatural on his face. Regulus didn’t think he’d seen him smile in such a way since he was a child. 

“We are the best,” he corrected. He paused for a minute, eyes gleaming. “Yes,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair. “I am glad to see you taking a more active role in your duties, Regulus. If you would like to train with the Rosiers, you have my permission.”

He nodded, keeping his face blank. 

I’m coming, James.

Chapter Text

“James!”

“Nnrrph?”

“James! Wake up!” The door slammed open, and someone shook his shoulders aggressively where he lay facedown in his bed. 

“Sirris?“ he mumbled into his pillow. What time was it? His pillow was wet around his mouth; he pulled his face away groggily, squinting at the blurred colours of his bedside table.

“James—Regulus is here!”

“What?!” The blankets tangled around his legs as he scrambled to his feet.

“Reggie is here! He’s in the driveway with your parents!” Sirius yelled, kneeling on his bed, the mattress bouncing up and down with his movement. James grabbed his glasses from the bedside and scrambled back onto the bed with him. The glass was cold on his forehead as he made out the three figures in the lane.

He’d recognise Regulus’ narrow shoulders and posture anywhere. 

James didn't hesitate for a second. He sprinted out of his room, hanging onto the bannister for support as he swung around the edge of the landing, flying down the stairs. His feet hardly touched the floor as he ran, crossing the house in record timing. On the front stoop, he paused in the doorway, unbelieving of what his eyes were seeing. Regulus was actually there—

He made it to him before the door even slammed shut behind him. Regulus had hardly glanced in his direction before he was at his side, the gravel of the driveway digging into the bottoms of his feet painfully. James swept him into a hug without so much as saying ‘hello’. Relief crashed over him, filling every inch of his body. 

Regulus. 

He felt perfect in his arms. His shoulders tucked just under James' armpits at just the right height, his chin against the curve of James' neck. He wrapped his arms around Regulus greedily, trying to cover him completely, inhaling deeply at the hair by his ear. 

“We’ll wait inside.”

He barely heard his parents' departure, his brain screaming, Reg, Reg, Reg. 

James pulled back after a long moment, keeping his arms shrouded over Regulus' shoulders so he wouldn’t go too far. He studied him carefully, looking for any signs of injury. Sirius showing up at their doorstep the year before replayed through his head, his body trembling and eyes teary as he stumbled up to their house. 

“Are you okay?” he asked in concern. He looked okay, for the most part. His light eyes were shiny and nervous, and an abrasion was spread over his left temple, but he looked otherwise unhurt. Regulus’ eyes flitted over his shoulder, and he could hear the gravel crunching with the approach of someone. 

“What happened?” Sirius stopped beside him, and James reluctantly released Regulus from his grip to let Sirius into their circle. They examined each other in tense silence, Regulus’ lips pressing together in slight determination while Sirius’ forehead creased. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Sirius was practically vibrating, his hands clenching and unclenching in aborted urges to grab Regulus and assess him.

Regulus’ eyes widened. “Oh no—no, I’m fine,” he said hurriedly. 

“You’re fine?” Sirius repeated, his voice seeping in disbelief. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, the sleeves on the worn black tee shirt he had slept in tightening against his biceps. 

Regulus nodded. “Mother and Father don’t know I’m here, of course, but I just—I just wanted to talk to James.” His eyes flicked back to him then, his pale skin looking healthy in the warm glow of the early sun, and James felt himself swoon. 

“Right,” James said, subconsciously looking Regulus over once again. His eyes landed on the redness at his temple again, now partially covered by his hair. “How long can you stay? You can as long as you want, of course, I'll just..." He glanced back at his house again, mind spinning. They could prepare a room for him if he could stay for the night or longer. His house had lots of space. 

“Oh, just the day. If that’s okay, I mean. I don’t need to stay at all if you’re busy. I could," he jerked his thumb down the road vaguely, "I could try to come back another time."

Regulus was tense with anxious energy. He looked beyond uncomfortable, his eyes flicking between James and his brother and then back to his house where his parents had disappeared. Regulus was chronically shy—he must’ve been having a heart attack to arrive today unannounced and meet his parents under the same circumstances, James thought.

“Stay as long as you can,” James said quickly, trying to give him a reassuring grin. “I told you the door’s always open.”

Regulus gave him a nod, his eyes softening the slightest amount. James smiled at him more naturally then, his heart finally settling in his chest after the morning's excitement. A part of him started to believe Regulus' words finally—that he was okay, that is. That this wasn't like when Sirius had shown up the previous summer at all. 

“Where exactly does everyone think you are?” Sirius asked after a beat, his face pensive.

“Evan’s. They think we are training together.”

Sirius scowled, his face darkening. “Rosier runs in the same circle as Father—what if word gets back you weren’t there today?”

An expression crossed Regulus’ face then, something like pride, and he bit his lip mischievously. “We have that covered,” he said. 

Sirius exchanged a glance with James, worry evident.

“We?”

“Evan and Barty—it was their plan, really,” Regulus explained. “They connected their Floos so I could get to Barty’s house. He doesn’t live that far, actually. Just up the road. It's how I got here.”

“That must’ve been a two-hour walk!” James said aghast. He’d been the Crouch’s before when he was a child for a supper once with his parents. He didn’t recall seeing Barty Jr. there, actually, but he remembered the stifling environment and boredom he’d felt during the entire thing. He knew where he lived, though, in a large manor closer to the nearest wizarding settlement. 

Regulus’ lips turned up into a smirk, his eyes shining, and offered him a nonchalant shrug—worth it. James wanted to reprimand him further but found himself unable to, warmth filling his chest.

“Gareth could rat,” Sirius argued. James assumed that must be Evan’s dad—he sometimes forgot how knowledgeable Sirius was in Pureblood society and the Dark Lord’s following since he rarely spoke of it. 

“Well, I am in there, technically,” Regulus said. “Gareth’s away for a couple of days anyways, but just in case, Barty took my spot.”

“Took your spot?”

“Er—well, Polyjuice.”

James felt his jaw drop while Sirius made a half-choked noise. “That's mental,” he declared, his face a mixture of pride and disbelief. Regulus shrugged abashedly, still smiling slightly as he dropped his gaze toward the ground. Just then, James' mum called for them from the porch, announcing that breakfast was ready.

Regulus looked up wide-eyed, his expression nearly ill.

“They will love you,” James said reassuringly while Sirius snorted at his brother’s visceral reaction.

“The Potters are very old-fashioned—you brought a hospitality gift, right?” he chided, making Regulus’ eyes widen.

“No, we aren’t!” James yelled in rebuttal, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius cackled evilly.

“They wear their shoes inside the house and always lick their plates clean. They’ll think you’re rude if you don’t,” he goaded further.

“No, we don’t! Don’t listen to him, Reg, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.” James fell into step beside him, letting Sirius lead the way towards the house. He grabbed Regulus' hand, squeezing it to calm his tremble. His mind paused. “Well, sometimes we lick our plates, but only when it’s ice cream or something really good. You don’t have to, though! It’s a personal preference. Do take your shoes off, though—Penny gets annoyed when we don’t.”

Regulus looked at him even more nervously while Sirius howled with laughter in front of them. James scowled at his best friend's back. Dick, he thought.

Penny greeted them at the front door, ready to take Regulus’ coat.

“Penny at your service!” she greeted cheerfully, holding her arm out for his jacket. James stopped with Regulus in the front room while he toed off his shoes, Sirius disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Oh, hello there!” Regulus’ eyes gleamed in happiness, looking more comfortable than he had since he'd arrived. James almost groaned—for Merlin’s sake, he was so cute. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Penny. I’m Regulus.” He peeled off his jacket slowly, folding it carefully before handing it to her. “Have you been with the Potters long?”

“Four generations!” Penny said proudly, her shoulders pulling back. Regulus looked thrilled.

“Wow, coming up on a century then, if I’m correct. What fortune for the Potters!”

Penny’s eyes filled with happy tears. “It is Penny who is fortunate,” she said emotionally, hugging Regulus’ jacket. He smiled softly at her in kind understanding. “If Regulus needs anything while he is visiting, just call upon Penny,” she said finally, disappearing with a ‘pop’.

Regulus looked at James with a big smile. “She’s so young and spry!” he exclaimed. “I thought she’d be as old as Kreacher with your family line.”

James huffed in laughter, shrugging. He knew he was of an Ancient bloodline, but he’d never considered how such a young elf ended up in their possession. Or what happened to the previous one?

Shoes off and jacket taken care of, James moved to lead them to the dining room. 

“Wait,” Regulus said suddenly, reaching out for his hand to stop him. His eyes were crinkled in upset. “Before we go in, I just wanted to say I’m so sorry for last week. I’ll explain it all, I promise, but I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”

James felt his heart grow heavy. He rubbed his thumb over Regulus’ hand where they were connected and then tugged him forward, kissing his temple firmly. He’d been worried sick, of course. Knowing Regulus was going home was upsetting enough, let alone for the way they’d ended things to weigh heavily on his mind as well. And he couldn’t talk about it with anyone, not really. Not with the details of the fight being so personal.

It had hurt a lot when Regulus had cut him off so abruptly, like he didn't even care if he was making James suffer, but...

“I’m not mad at you, Reg—let’s have breakfast, okay? We’ll talk afterwards.”

James couldn’t be mad at Regulus. Not when he was so worried. He wasn’t an idiot—he didn’t press, and he wanted Regulus to open up to him on his own terms, but he knew he’d been keeping something from him. He knew whatever he was going to tell him was going to break his heart. 

Being mad at him wouldn’t help anyone. He just hoped he would be honest with him finally. This conversation was long overdue. 

. . .

“So, you’re friends with Bartemius Junior,” James' dad said jovially, holding a forkful of egg and bacon in front of him. Sirius snorted at his full name. 

Regulus had given a very abridged version of how he had ended up at the Potter’s cottage early that morning, his parents being as shocked at the walk he’d taken as James was. His hands shook ever so slightly when he raised his wrists off of the table’s edge, but otherwise, he was the image of composure. James knew he was nervous, though—he was being so formal and quiet it reminded him of when they first had started hanging out. He wasn’t speaking unless directly spoken to, but James’ parents seemed to have an endless amount of questions to circumvent that.

Regulus nodded seriously, his back erect and fork and knife poised over his plate in the image of dignity. “Yes, we’re dorm mates at school.”

It was surreal seeing him at a table with his family. Penny had conjured a chair next to his own, so he and Regulus sat side-by-side on one side of the table facing Sirius while his parents sat at either end. James hooked his leg behind Regulus, rubbing his foot along his ankle. 

“That’s wonderful, we are long-time friends of the Crouches,” his dad continued. “I haven’t seen Junior since he was a wee lad, though—he’s always out of the house when we are there.”

“He’s pretty busy, I’m sure,” Regulus said after a moment, setting down his utensils and wiping his palms on his thighs. 

“Well, regardless, we insist you use the Floo to get home. Hardly anyone, not even Muggles, uses that road. It isn’t safe.”

“Okay,” Regulus said uneasily, fingers tapping on his thigh anxiously. “But you won’t—you won’t say anything to Barty’s dad, right? About me? He isn’t really supposed to be seeing me outside of school,” he explained softly. 

James' parents exchanged a look, his father’s eyebrows rising above his glasses frame. It took just a second, and then they both looked back to Regulus with nothing but warmth on their faces. “We can keep a secret,” his mum said kindly, giving him a smile. 

“Thank you,” Regulus said politely, cutting a small piece off of his omelette again and chewing it quietly. 

“So I hear you are quite the Seeker,” his dad started again. 

“Dad, maybe Regulus wants a chance to eat his breakfast,” James interrupted, giving him a look. Everyone’s plates had been finished aeons ago, it felt, just Regulus and his father had hardly touched theirs from chatting so much. Well, his dad was chatting. Regulus was just being polite. 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Regulus said quickly, shooting James a sharp warning look. He wants to impress them so badly, James thought, amused. "I don't mind."

“You don't need to be so polite, dear,” his mum thankfully piped up in agreement. “Monty is just curious. We've been looking forward to meeting you; we’ve heard so much about you in all those letters Jamie has been sending us—"

“Mum!” James yelped, glancing at Regulus worriedly. “I don’t write about you that much,” he corrected immediately.

Everyone burst into laughter, even Sirius looked amused. To James’ relief, Regulus’ cheeks turned the slightest pink, but he didn’t seem upset at the news.

“Penny," his dad called out to the house. “May we have some coffee refills?”

Penny popped beside his father then, a large kettle of coffee in hand. She topped Monty off first, moving around the table to do the same for everybody. Regulus took the break in conversation to scarf down a couple of bites, pushing away the plate half-done.

“Was breakfast satisfactory?” Penny inquired when she reached them, levitating the pitcher between them to refill their mugs.

Regulus nodded. “It was fantastic, Penny. Thank you. I had already eaten, otherwise I would’ve had more,” he promised. She seemed content with his answer and moved on to Sirius.

“Thank you, Penny,” Sirius said, then looked pointedly at Regulus. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?" 

“Kreacher is lovely as well,” Regulus said stiffly, leaning back in his chair and cradling his now steaming mug between his hands. James winced—he knew how much Sirius hated Kreacher and, in turn, how much Regulus loved him.

Best not to let an argument brew between them.

“Penny, reckon you could put the coffees into thermoses instead? I want to show Regulus the yard.”

They lived in the countryside—the house itself was plotted on quite a few acres, but the wilderness stretched on behind the house, making it feel endless. It would be perfect for them to spend full moons if Remus’ dad didn’t lock him up so tight when he was home for the holidays.

Sirius shot James a quick look of distress while they moved away from the table, collecting their drinks and jackets, but James turned away, ignoring him. He couldn’t invite him out with them, not when he knew what they were going to talk about was private.

Sirius would have to wait. For now, at least. Maybe afterwards, the three of them could hang out. James wasn’t sure if Regulus would want that, but he was sure he could convince him to try, at least.

“This is all yours?”

James led them onto his favourite running route—it went around the lake in the back and through the forest trail, leading to some rolling meadows.

“Just to the forest edge that way, or to the Quidditch Pitch if you go the other direction,” James said, pointing to the markers as he described them. “It’s nice, but it’d be cool to live closer to other people, I think. In a little town or something.”

They were walking very slowly, barely moving, as a comfortable silence fell over them. James let the silence stay, biting his tongue for once so he didn't take up the space between them. It was for Regulus when he was ready. They stopped at the lake to watch it for a while, a smile ghosting on Regulus' lips when a fish leapt out of the water, sending ripples across the surface to the shore. James picked up a rock from the ground a while later, skipping it along the tranquil surface. 

“Sirius fits in well,” Regulus said as the rock disappeared into the water. 

“Hm?”

“With your family, I mean. He’s happy here.”

Regulus’ voice wasn’t upset or angry. It never really was when he spoke of his brother; it was how he normally sounded, touched with quiet acceptance and pride. James never considered that Regulus might have been worried about Sirius living with him, or that he may have been concerned that he’d been unhappy since he’d left. 

You’d be happy here, too, he thought longingly. 

“I am really sorry, James,” Regulus said after another moment, looking at him with unshed tears. James felt his heart grow heavy, the peacefulness on Regulus' face shattered by pleading desperation. He wasn’t mad at Regulus, but he could tell the other boy didn’t believe him.

“Come ‘ere,” James said, leading him by the hand toward the base of a large tree. “Let’s sit.”

They were facing the lake, far enough away that the cottage seemed small on the horizon. No one would overhear or interrupt them while they were out here. Regulus sat angled away from him on the ground, his spine straight. One of his knees was resting on top of James' thigh, James laid his hand on it in comfort, his own body positioned to face Regulus as best he could.

He could feel Regulus trembling.

“Before you start, I just wanted to say that I love you,” James said, bringing his hand up to rub his back gently. Regulus turned his head to look at him, his face already wet with tears.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated.

“Hey, it’s okay,” James said softly.

“I’m not mad you called me Reggie," Regulus continued after a moment, ducking his head forward again and out of sight.

“I shouldn’t have said that—you asked me not to,” James tried to say very reasonably.

Regulus shook his head. “It wasn’t that—not just that, I guess.”

Silence filled the space between them. James pulled Regulus against his chest, resting his head so his chin was against the curve of his neck and jaw. He inhaled him deeply, shutting his eyes and willing the anger inside his chest away.

The seconds lapsed into minutes. James knew Regulus was losing the battle in his head to speak. He didn’t want him to suffer anymore.

“Whoever hurt you could never make me love you less,” he said carefully. He reminded himself to breathe into the silence that followed, hoping it was the right thing to say.

“You know.” Regulus’ voice was a whisper.

James had hoped he was wrong. He had talked himself down and blamed it on his imagination for their entire relationship, but Thursday night was harder to ignore. It was impossible to rationalise. James wanted to face Regulus, to look him in the eye and promise him it was all okay, but he knew this was easier for Regulus right now. He nuzzled his face closer to him instead, Regulus' hair tickling his face.

“I have an idea,” James said softly. “I wanted to be wrong, but only for your sake.”

Regulus sniffled. “You still want to be with me?”

Oh. 

Oh—

It hurt—a rip tearing into James’ chest—to hear the uncertainty in Regulus’ voice. The fear. To know that a single thought had crossed his mind, believing that James could ever stop loving him.

“Yes,” he said emotionally. “Forever, yes. I love you, okay? Nothing could change that.”

“It wasn’t," Regulus sniffled again, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t bad like you probably are thinking. But I keep thinking about it, and it makes me want to tear my skin off." His hands fidgeted with the leg of his trousers, his nails scratching up and down the fabric in shaky lines. 

“When did it happen?” James asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to freak Regulus out even more. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, face tilting down towards the earth.

“Depends on what you mean.” Regulus took another stuttering breath and continued bravely, “But I guess it started a bit before Sirius went to school.”

James froze, the world halting to a stop around him. 

“Regulus,“ he said, barely able to keep his voice level.

“I didn’t—I didn't realise what I was doing. And I know I shouldn't have done it, but I—I wanted to keep hanging out with him. I didn't know, though, James. I swear to Merlin, I didn't know what we were doing. Not really."

“Regulus," he repeated, but his voice was almost a whisper. Please, no, he begged the universe. Please, not Regulus. Please don't have done this to him.  

“And then, once it started, I felt like I couldn’t just stop, you know? Since I’d already agreed. And I'd been leading him on, I think. I hadn't meant to, but—"

“Regulus, please,” he begged, his eyes wet. He was glad that they weren’t facing each other now. It went quiet as Regulus snapped his mouth shut, the only sound the rustling of the leaves in the nearby trees as the wind picked up slightly. James felt like he couldn't breathe. “Who was he?” he asked finally, once he was confident his voice wouldn’t betray him.

He couldn't stand it—the desperation in Regulus' voice, like James could ever somehow twist anything that could've happened to him as a child to have been his fault. Like he felt as if he needed to explain himself. Like he blamed himself. 

The silence was deafening. He could only focus on counting—anything else, and he might lose control.

One, two, three…

“Rudolphus.”

Regulus' voice was so quiet James barely heard it, but he would never forget that moment. The name echoed through his mind, engraving into his memory. He knew who he was, of course. He knew all about the Lestranges. 

He was a dead man walking.  

“I’m so sorry.” 

He was soaking Regulus’ hair with his tears, but there was no holding them back. James tried to stay steady, to smother him with his own body—he was supposed to be staying strong, but he was falling apart at the seams. He forced another breath inwards, pushing his emotions down. 

Regulus took a shaky breath in as well and pulled away slightly to readjust. He moved so he sat sideways in the V of James' legs with his shoulder pressed against his chest, curling into him like he was much smaller than he was. James clung onto him as if he were his lifeline. 

“He always calls me Reggie,” Regulus said after a moment, his voice quiet.

James nodded, a surge of regret and guilt washing over him. He rested his chin on top of Regulus' head, swallowing thickly. It had been an accident, a thoughtless mistake, but he vowed it would never happen again. He'd never let his carelessness hurt Regulus again.

“I won’t say it ever again,” he promised softly. “But—should Sirius stop? I can make him stop.”

Regulus laughed softly, the sound hollow. “I’ve been trying to get him to stop for sixteen years—I don’t think you’ll have any better luck. But, no. It’s different with Sirius. He called me that first.” He laughed louder then, despite everything. It wasn't a real laugh; the sound was a bit desperate and wrong. “Mother conjured soap in his mouth for calling me that when we were kids, but he refused to stop. He used to say it was his name for me, and she couldn't take it.”

James smiled sadly, picturing sud bubbles coming out of Sirius' mouth while he stood defiantly with his arms crossed. It certainly sounded like him.

“Okay,” he said in quiet agreement. “If it bugs you, though, Sirius would stop.”

Regulus shrugged. "It’s not... It has never made me react like that, with him. I think it was situational.”