No Greater Sin

by windyday07

Summary:

Regulus has always known he's destined to drown. He feels it somewhere deep in his chest, past his rib cage, nestled behind his organs. He feels it in his arm when his mother squeezes it a little harder than a mother should. He felt it, the water rising in his throat, when his brother slipped out the window and into the night. He often wonders if it'd be easier to just let himself sink.

He often wonders if he has a choice.

---

Regulus gets sent back to school with a mission from the Dark Lord himself— find the “beast in the chamber” and claim its fangs without killing it. But when a certain curly-haired bespectacled boy asks for a rather large favor, everything suddenly gets a lot more complicated.

Notes:

• Translation into Español available: No Greater Sin (TRADUCCION A ESPAÑOL) by Ir3_ne_11

Chapter 1: Grimmauld Place

Regulus has always known he was destined to drown. He feels it somewhere deep in his chest, past his rib cage, nestled somewhere behind his organs. He feels it in his arm when his mother squeezes it a little harder than a mother should. He felt it, the water rising in his throat, when his brother slipped out the window and into the night. He feels it now, sitting at the long cold table, watching Bellatrix’s nails click on the marble. 

“Regulus.” 

Click,

Click,

Click.

“Regulus. Are you listening?” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“Good. Do you understand what you need to do?”

Click,

Click, 

Click.

“Yes, my Lord.” Regulus tears his eyes away from Bellatrix’s fingers, gaze snapping to the Dark Lords. Next to him, he feels his mother straighten nervously. 

“My Lord…” Her voice trails off hesitantly. 

“Walburga?” The Dark Lord sits forward in his seat. “Do you have something to say?”

“He is only a boy. I fear… I fear he will not be able to follow through.” 

Click, 

Click,

Click. 

“You already bore one traitor, Walburga. Your husband told me he would be up for the challenge. I was told he was ready. You told me you were going to make him ready.” Regulus feels the Dark Lord's anger creeping in around them. The room seems to shrink, though maybe that part’s just in Regulus’s head because none of the other Death Eaters seem to notice. He thinks it’s funny, on some dark level. How much they compare him to Sirius, how much they hate the few similarities they find. He used to cling to each one, each resemblance, like a lifeline. He’s since killed that part of himself; drowned it in the bathtub back at Grimmauld Place. 

“Well, Walburga? Is he ready? If he’s not, we can have someone assigned to Imperio him, control him from the outside. In fact… it might be easier…” The Dark Lord sighs, reaching for his wand. Regulus closes his eyes.    

“No. He’s ready. He’ll be fine.” Orion. Stepping in only when absolutely, desperately, necessary. On the other side of him, his father places a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. Regulus holds impossibly still. “Imperio will just further cloud his mind, my Lord.” 

The Dark Lord seems to consider before nodding, tucking his wand back into his robes. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so. Black, repeat your orders.”

He can do that much. He’s always been good at following directions. 

“Open the chamber. Tame the beast. Deliver its fangs to you. Don’t kill it.” His voice cracks slightly, but holds firm. Regulus wonders if that was enough, but the Dark Lord nods. 

Will you do it? The parseltongue slips from the Dark Lord’s lips so easily, like a first language. It coils way across the table towards him, as dangerous as the Dark Lord’s snake. This is just for Regulus. This is private. 

Regulus takes a steadying breath and meets his cold eyes. Yes. 

Because really, what else is there to say? 

Around them the other Death Eaters shift nervously, left out, in the dark. Regulus feels his mother shoot him a frustrated look, one he’s grown quite familiar with recently. Regulus allows himself a small smile. This was something, one thing, that she couldn’t control. Couldn’t manipulate. Couldn’t understand. Being a parselmouth was his alone. His and the Dark Lord's.

“Fine.” The Dark Lord pushes back his chair. “Meeting adjourned. Regulus-” Regulus stops, looks up. He ignores the feeling that ignites in his stomach, the spark of curdling dread. Do not fail, the Dark Lord hisses. Not a warning, but a promise of something worse. Then he's leaving, his snake wrapping itself up his arm. 

Regulus walks out, focusing on the sound of his shoes on the tile, his mother’s presence behind him. He focuses on Kreacher, who appears to take him back to Grimmauld place. He focuses on the food that’s set in front of him. He focuses on his violin, tucked under his chin. He doesn’t think about his orders. He doesn’t think about the task before him. He doesn’t think about his brother. He doesn’t think about the water that’s rising like a tide around him, choking out his voice, clogging his lungs.

He’s never been a very good swimmer. 

Chapter 2: Back to School

The first time Regulus boarded the Hogwarts Express, Sirius was holding his hand. They’d stood side by side on the platform, letting their mother briskly brush non-existent lint from their shoulders and make comments about their posture. She reminded them to keep their grades up; reminded them what would happen if they didn’t. Leaned down to whisper to Regulus: 

“You’ll get sorted into Slytherin. I’m certain.” It was quiet enough that Regulus was sure no one heard, and just loud enough he was certain Sirius had. 

Regulus swallowed and taken a step forward. “What if… what if I don't?” It was a suspicion that crept below his skin, still too fragile to become anything resembling hope. 

Walburga’s eyes hardened. “You will.” 

Regulus had gripped Sirius’s arm tighter, at that time still disgracefully dependent. She was right. Slytherin was where he belonged, he needed to remember that.

His mother smacked his hand away, muttering something about Regulus getting too old for that sort of stuff. The whistle had blown and the boys turned, rushing across the platform and onto the train. Regulus sent one last glance over his shoulder. Sirius never once looked back. 

 

--- 

 

Now, all these years later, Regulus has no idea where Sirius is. He stands alone, much taller now, not speaking. His mother still waits next to him, because heaven forbid he leaves her sight for more than a moment. She’s saying something, but Regulus isn’t listening. He’s scanning the platform, searching. He just needs to see. He just- he needs to make sure. And there, just there, a flash of shaggy dark hair, the glint of a silver earring, that’s him. Regulus' chest cracks open, a tiny sliver of relief peaking through. He ignores it. Sirius bounds forward to meet Lupin and Pettegrew, followed closely by Potter. Regulus studies the four of them. The way Lupin towers above them all, the way Pettigrew gained a few pounds over the summer. Sirius is laughing, his arm thrown over Potter’s shoulders. And Potter- he’s grinning, of course. Happy. Regulus despises him. 

“-egulus? Are you listening?” Shit. His mother. He should’ve been paying closer attention. 

“What?” 

“Mon dieu, Regulus, you need to listen when I speak. Are you prepared? Has the Dark Lord made his instructions clear?” He can feel her eyes on him. 

“Yes.” He winces at the hesitation in his voice.

“No. Be sure. You won’t disappoint the Dark Lord.” Her gaze is sharp. He nods. “Say it.”

“I won’t disappoint.” He keeps his voice steady, not quite confident but getting there. Firm.

She glances up, about to say something else, when the whistle blows. Regulus lets out a small internal sigh of relief and nods goodbye before turning towards the train.

He meets Evan in the corridor. He clasps Regulus’s shoulder and the two of them make their way to meet the others in their compartment. 

"How was your summer? Your mum try to marry you off yet?” Evan grins. His hair has grown over the summer, flopping in his eyes.

Regulus smirks. “The weddings next week. You coming? I’ll let you be the flower girl.”

When they make it to the carriage, Regulus slides in next to Dorcas, letting Evan find his place next to Pandora and Barty. 

“How’s your summer Dora?” Evan asks, leaning over Barty to grab some Bertie Bott's Beans out of Pandora’s box. 

She shrugs, swatting his hand away. “I expanded my vegetable garden without telling my parents. I think they’re mad.” She smirks. “Worth it.” 

Dorcas raises a brow. “How big did you go?” 

Regulus can't wait for this train ride to be over. He longs to find an empty classroom where he can pull out his violin and just play. His fingers itch to reach for his suitcase. 

Pandora smiles. “I wrapped it around the house. Might’ve cut off access to the drive. I planted the flowers on the roof.” Her eyes flick to Regulus. She frowns. “What’s wrong? You’re more sullen than usual.”

Regulus glances up, caught off guard. “Nothing.” He hates it when she does that. 

Barty acts confused, glancing between them. “What are you on about Dora? He looks... normal."

Regulus nods in agreement and ignores Pandora's protest. His friends slip into gentle conversation and Regulus lets his head fall back against the seat, staring out the window. He takes deep breaths, keeping his mind calm. He’s heading to school, which is usually a relief. This time though, he’s managed to drag his parents along with him. Their expectations. Their rules. Good grades, suitable friends- these were no longer expectations. They were given. They were assumed. But the task ahead of him, the monumental fucking expectation that was waiting at the end of this train ride- that was new. 

He can feel his mothers claws on his shoulders, her voice in his ear. Her whispers slide down his throat with every breath. He doesn’t know how to shut her up. He closes his mouth, refuses to inhale until his chest shakes and he’s forced to part his lips with a desperate gasp. 

The Dark Lord is there too, on his other side. He can feel his slimy words, the snake-speak that seems to curl out of his mouth and wrap its way around Regulus’s throat. He can feel them both, the Dark Lord and his mother, one on each shoulder. Neither is an angel.

He wonders if it’s common to have two devils. 

 

---

“You think we’ll take home the cup this year?” Evan asks, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Regulus tucks his clothes into his drawers and shrugs. “Gryffindor’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, well. We’re better.”

“You don’t even play.”

Evan lifts his head from the bed to glare at him. “I can still care. I don’t know why you’re not more invested.”

“I’m very invested. I have a reputation to protect.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Hogwarts’ best seeker, yeah yeah. I think you’ve got that one secured, Reg.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” But Evan’s right. Regulus isn’t threatened. 

“How was your summer, like actually?”

Regulus shoves the drawer closed. “It was fine.” 

“Didn’t kill your brother yet then?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t know.

Regulus grabs more clothes from his trunk. “Sirius left.”

On the bed, Evan goes very still. “What?”

All of the Sacred 28 families had heard, one way or another. Word travels fast among the elite. The Rosier’s, though, aren’t entirely involved with that side of things. “He’s at the Potter’s now.” Regulus says, folding an extra pair of robes. 

Evan sits up. “Wait, what? And your parents just let him go?”

Regulus does his best not to shut down. “I’m not so sure they had a choice. Besides. I make a better heir and they know it.”

He can feel Evan’s eyes on him. “He just walked out? Have you two talked?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Look, Evan, I don’t care. He’s free to make his own decisions. Free and able, apparently.”

“I guess so,” Evan mutters. “Huh.” He pauses. “...Doesn’t he know, like, a lot?”

Regulus shuts the drawer. “My parents never really let him get close to all that business. He made it very clear he’d sell them out in a second.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “I thought Gryfindors were supposed to be loyal.”

Regulus ignores the way that stings. “That’s conditional, it seems.”

“So do you think your parents will leave him be?”

“I guess so.”

“At the Potter’s? Really? I know Potter and Sirius were friends, but to live with him…”

“I know.”

“It’s just all so dramatic.”

“We’re the Blacks. It’s in our nature.” Regulus fixes him with a look. “You haven’t unpacked yet.”

“...No.”

“Why?”

“We were talking.”

“And yet here I am, trunk empty.”

“Fine.” Evan pushes himself off the bed and pulls his trunk towards him. 

And that’s that.

---

That night, Regulus creeps out of his dorms and into the halls. The dark clings to the corners of the castle, only broken by small patches of candlelight. He lifts his lighted wand higher, brushes his curls out of his eyes, and moves forward. The Dark Lord had mentioned the entrance to the Chamber lies somewhere on the 2nd floor. Other than that, he’d been frustratingly sparse with the information he’d provided. Regulus doesn’t even know what beast lies within. No one's found the entrance to the chamber in decades. Even Dumbledore failed. It was impossible. 

He pads down the stairs softly, not wanting to wake any of the paintings on the walls. He rounds the corner and stops abruptly. There, two boys are giggling, their arms full of sweets and what looks like dessert from dinner. It’s Pettigrew and Potter, because of course it is, which means Lupin and Sirius can't be far behind. They never are. Regulus takes a deep breath and sets his face, remaining coolly neutral. He raises his wand slightly and moves forward. Potter glances up and his face falls as he straightens.

“Potter. Pettigrew.” Regulus doesn’t look at them, fully intending to keep walking. Maybe this didn’t need to be harder than that. But no, never. Not when Sirius was involved. Because there, in the space next to Potter, the air moves oddly. Sirius and Lupin appear, pockets also bulging with muffins. Sirius holds some sort of fabric that shifts in the light. Regulus cocks his head and narrows his eyes. He’s read about something similar somewhere, but what … ah. An invisibility cloak. How had his brother managed to get his hands on one of those? He’s distracted by Sirius' grey eyes, locked on Regulus. So fiery. Sirius had always burned hot. Regulus matches his glare. 

“Regulus.” And immediately, the sound of Sirius’s voice washes over him. Regulus hasn’t heard it all summer. He clings to it, pushes it away, hates the way it scratches just below his skin. 

“Sirius. A little late to be out of bed, don’t you think?”

Sirius ignores him. “How was your summer, Reg? Nice and cozy?” 

“Not quite as cozy as yours, I imagine.” Regulus lets his eyes flick to Potter, who’s studying him cautiously. Regulus doesn’t let his gaze linger. 

“Not a full Death Eater yet, then?"

"You'd know if you were still around."

Sirius scoffs. "Like you ever told me anything when I was."

Regulus should've known they'd instantly jump to this sudo-fight conversation. There's too much here, too much to not say. Every sentence is emotionally charged, locked and loaded with the weight of a thousand things they never said when they still had time. 

“Sirius,” Potter says, stepping forward to put a hand on Sirius’s arm. “Leave it. Let’s go.” Sirius shakes him off. 

Regulus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s dramatics. “Listen to your goons, Sirius. I’ll see you around.” He pushes past Potter, but Sirius moves quickly, blocking his path. 

“How’s mum, Reggie?” His voice is cruel. A knife in his sleeve, a shot aimed to kill.

“You could always ask her, Sirius. I’m sure she’d love a letter.” 

“And how are you? À quel point t'a-t-elle blessé?” Sirius’s eyes glint. Next to him, Pettigrew and Potter exchange worried glances. 

To Sirius, every cut, bruise, or curse on Regulus’s body would be proof that he was right to leave. That being at that house brought nothing but pain. Regulus refuses to give him- to give anyone- that luxury.

“What does it look like?” 

Regulus watches as Sirius looks him up and down. He waits, drawing his magic up and over his skin. An extra layer, always. Eventually, Sirius nods, but there’s something sour in the twist of his mouth.

“Still her little pet, then.” Sirius says, taking a step back. And- just- how does he not get it? What doesn’t he understand? I have to be, Regulus thinks. If I’m her pet it's because you left me no choice. You handed me a collar when you went out that window.  

“Guess so.” Regulus says instead. Sirius, if anything, gets madder. If there’s one thing Regulus knows about his brother, it's that Sirius thrives on attention and- subsequently- reactions. Don’t give him one, he gets frustrated. It's Regulus’s favorite game. 

Sirius is looking at him with pure disdain written into every feature. “Good to see you’re still a fucking coward, Reg.”

Regulus moves before Sirius can say anything else, done with whatever this is. He walks as quickly as he can down the hall, steps echoing in the silence. Naturally he pauses, turns back.

“Dad sends his best.” 

Then he's forcing his feet to move, rounding the corner and leaving his brother and his friends behind him. He has to keep looking. 

Notes:

We love it when the Black brothers reunite! They love each other so much :) They never fight :)
Thanks for reading! (btw chapters get longer from here on out)

Chapter 3: In the Library

Summary:

Regulus wants more information on the Basilisk. He runs into someone while researching. Also! Surprise Jegulus interaction just as a treat

Notes:

I had fun with this one

It’s a few days before he slips out of bed again. He has a destination this time. Aimlessly searching had proved pointless. He could always write home asking for specifics, but one doesn't simply write to the Dark Lord and Regulus would rather chew off his own arm than reach out to his mother voluntarily. So he, naturally, goes to the library. 

The door squeaks as he enters, but years of Grimmauld Place’s loud staircases have taught Regulus how to move silently. He creeps over to the library catalog as quietly as possible. He begins to flip through it, searching for... something. Anything relevant, really. Eventually, he finds it. “The Dungeons and Chambers of Hogwarts'' by Bartholemew Hoggins. Regulus rereads the title once, then closes the catalog. The book is in the restricted section. Regulus can guess why.

When he’s successfully unlocked the gate, Regulus creeps in. The shelves of the restricted section tower above him, like a dusty maze. He crosses, scanning for authors' names that begin with H. He thinks he hears a sound from a few stacks over, but dismisses it. All sorts of things live in these shelves. 

When he finally finds the book, he pulls it out and examines it. The cover’s dark and musty and he has to blow the dust off to read the words. He opens it, flipping through until he finds what he was looking for. A chapter titled: “The Chamber, Hogwarts Deadliest Secret.” 

He sighs. 

Regulus scans the page quickly. It says nothing about where the chamber’s located, but it does contain a list of all the beasts that it’s been theorized to contain. Regulus glances over the list quickly, cross checking with what little information the Dark Lord has given him. The beast he’s looking for has fangs. That’s his only clue, really. Unfortunately- or fortunately, depending on how you look at it- that makes it quite a short process. Trolls don’t have fangs, nor do ghouls, so that leaves… basilisks. 

Regulus can’t help the small rueful smile that makes its way onto his lips. Of course. He should’ve assumed. That was why the task was assigned to Regulus, instead of another like Mulciber or Barty. The Dark Lord needed a Parselmouth, someone who could talk to the snake itself. It’s a shame though- he knows nothing about basilisks. At least he’s in a library. He creeps towards the section on magical beasts, then pauses. 

There’s that sound again. A small creak, a huff of breath. Regulus tucks the book under his arm and moves forward, slowly peeking around the corner. 

There, scanning the shelves, is Remus Lupin. 

The majority of his body’s invisible, only his head and arms and a little bit of his chest peaking out. It had to have been the invisibility cloak from last night, Regulus thinks. He should probably make his exit now. But he's... curious. Lupin’s eyebrows are furrowed as he reads over the titles. Regulus watches as he pulls a book from the shelves, carefully glancing around. Lupin opens the book to the table of contents, scanning quickly. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he flips through it until it opened to the right page.

Immediately, a loud howl rings out from the book. More human than wolf, but more savage than a dog. It’s obnoxiously loud, splitting Regulus’s ears. Lupin panics, dropping the book quickly. Regulus waits for Lupin to do something, anything, but the other boy's frozen, staring at the book like he’s seen a ghost. Regulus grits his teeth. His cover could be blown. Unlike Lupin, he doesn’t have a magical cloak he can hide under. He ducks out from behind his stack, pulling out his wand.

“Silencio!” He sends the spell at the book, effectively shutting it up. Lupin glances up, surprised.

“What were you thinking?” Regulus hisses, crossing the floor. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

Lupin scrambles to scoop up the book from the floor. “I- I panicked- I don’t- I didn’t know it would do that-”

“Obviously. What are you doing here?” Regulus whispers. Lupin swallows, grip tightening on his cloak. Regulus cocks his head.

“Does my brother just let everyone use that thing?” 

Lupin blinks. “This isn’t Sirius’, it’s James’. And yes, we all use it.” 

Regulus raises his eyebrows. “That’s Potter’s? How did he manage to get his hands on that?”

Lupin looks him over and then glances around, seeming to remember where they were. “I- wait. Why are you here? I could report you for this.” 

Oh. Right. Lupin was a prefect this year.  “And I could tell them I was going to the bathroom and heard a noise, awfully similar to a howl, and just felt the need to check it out.”

“They wouldn’t believe you. I’m a prefect.”

"Yeah, we'll see." Regulus turns and shoves the book that had been under his arm into a random place on the shelf. Shit. His hand is shaking again. It’s been doing this on and off for the past week. He’s hardly been able to get through a full scale on his violin. He can practically see the fine white powder under his nails. The adrenaline rush from Lupin and the book had started it off again. Regulus can hear his mother’s voice, hissing at him to get it under control. He clenches his hand into a fist at his side until it goes still. Better. Now, he needs Lupin to leave. But when he glances up, the older boy’s staring at him. Or, more accurately, staring at his hand. He’d noticed. 

Regulus sends him a sidelong glance. “Do you need something?” 

Lupin's gaze sharpens, almost imperceptibly. “Sirius’s hand used to do the same thing. After- After he went home.” Regulus keeps his face neutral, careful. Bored. Lupin swallows. “If you needed- I mean- he might…”

This is not a conversation Regulus wants to be having. At all. Even a little. “What makes you think I need anything from him?” 

Lupin narrows his eyes. “I’ve seen Sirius’s scars.”

Regulus gut twists. “I’m not Sirius.” He turns away. I know how to keep my mouth shut. 

“No. No, you definitely aren't.” 

Regulus can feel Lupin's eyes on his back. It makes him deeply uncomfortable. He doesn’t need his pity. Doesn’t want it. It feels itchy on his skin, like a suffocating blanket he needs to throw off and cast aside. He needs it gone. You don't know me, he wants to snap. You have no idea what you're talking about. 

“What book is that?” Regulus says instead, pointing at the book on the floor. He bends down and scoops it up before Lupin can answer, running his eyes over the page. Understanding Werewolves is scrolled across the top. That explained the howls. Something catches in his mind, an inconsistency, a question- but he dismisses it. He’ll worry about Lupin’s secrets later. He flips the book closed, reading the cover. Werewolves, Basilisks, Ghouls, and Other Creatures of the Night by Romaniah Bettrude.  His breath stutters. It's exactly what he’d been looking for; and it was practically handed to him. Maybe his luck was turning around. He doesn't bother looking at Lupin. “I need this.” 

Lupin watches him cautiously. “So do I. Besides, you can’t leave with it. The second you leave the restricted section with a book that hasn’t been checked out for you, alarms will sound and Filch will be notified.” 

There were two options, then. He could leave the book here, try his best to find a teacher signature the next day, and come back. There were a few issues with that plan. Namely Lupin, who as a prefect didn’t need a teacher’s signature and would most likely just leave with the book as soon as Regulus left. Of course that begged the question: what was Lupin doing sneaking around in the middle of the night looking at a book he could easily check out the next day? Either way, that just left option two. 

Regulus sighs and promptly sits down, crossing his legs in front of him and leaning against the shelves. Lupin stares at him a moment, then proceeds to sink down across from him. “What are you doing?”

Regulus ignores him, flipping through the book till he gets to the chapter on Basilisks. He pauses. This was odd. All the words on the page have been scribbled out, harsh jagged black lines tearing through the sentences. It’s unreadable. The only thing left untouched is a drawing of the basilisk in the center, coiling and writhing on the page. Its mouth is open, but no sounds are coming out. Regulus frowns. Right- the silencing charm. He glances around, trying to judge how loud the basilisk's hiss would be. Do basilisks even hiss? Do they scream? He actually doesn’t know. But being a parselmouth has to count for something. On the off chance he can understand the ugly snake, he has to try. Then there was the matter of Lupin, who was leaning forward a bit to see the book.

“I don’t suppose I could make you leave.” Regulus asks, already resigned. 

“Nope.” 

Regulus studies him. “Do my brother and your friends know you’re here?”

Lupin pinks a bit. “They- they wouldn’t mind, but… no.” 

Regulus nods. “So why then?" 

“I- I was just doing research for some– you know what? I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Okay, so we don’t ask each other questions.” 

Lupin eyes him suspiciously. “…Okay?”

“And we don't speak of this. To anyone.” 

"I don't like keeping secrets."

Regulus wants to roll his eyes. "If that was true, you wouldn't be here at two am."

Lupin considers him for a moment, then nods. “Fine. No questions, and I won’t tell.”

That isn’t good enough. It might've been, and for anyone else it probably was, but Regulus is a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. He doesn't come with trust built in. He pulls out his wand, pointing it at Remus. “Nonloqui.” 

Remus shoves himself away from Regulus, clutching his throat. “What the fuck was that?” He gasps.

Regulus puts his wand away. “Just needed to be sure.” 

“Did you just bloody curse me?” 

“It shouldn't hurt.”

“What the fuck Regulus? What was that?” Lupin rubs his neck, eyes wide. 

Regulus ignores him, turning back to the book. Quickly, before he can regret it and before Lupin can interject, he withdraws the silencing charm. Immediately, hissing fills the air. It’s soft and just loud enough to be clearly heard. Just loud enough to be understood. 

Find me, the basilisk was hissing. Its words coil around Regulus’s brain. It's different then when he’s heard the Dark Lord speak in parseltongue. This was more… natural. Less clinical and practiced. 

Regulus sends one final glance up at Lupin who's staring at the book. He might not trust him, but he trusts himself. He trusts his spell to hold. Lupin wouldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. 

Where? Regulus speaks back, quietly as possible. Where are you hidden?

Across from him, Lupin rears back as if he’d been burned. He stares at Regulus in shock. Regulus pointedly does not meet his gaze, focusing on the basilisk in front of him. 

In the chamber, underground. I need to eat. I need to breathe. 

Regulus pauses before he remembers Lupin can't understand him. He can ask for specifics. 

Where’s the chamber?

Beneath the pipes. Where the girl rests. I killed her quickly. Find me. I’ll make your death just as quick. 

Regulus swallows. What does beneath the pipes mean? Where is that?

The basilisk coils around the page. Water. Gushes. My friend, my boy, he says third sink from the door. 

So a bathroom then. Ok. But the basilisk isn't done. 

Only the heir. Only my master's heir can find me. 

Right. Salazar's heir. The Salazars, later the Gaunts, had gotten tangled up somewhere along the line with the Blacks. That's what Regulus assumed anyway. He’d asked the Dark Lord, once. Why he was the one that could open the chamber, why it was him alone that could talk to snakes. The Dark Lord had snapped at him for his unwarranted curiosity, and his mother had taken him home and spoken to him about his insolence. He hadn’t asked again. 

I’ll find you. He hisses to the snake on the page. He instantly feels a bit sheepish. The basilisk in front of him isn't the one he's looking for. 

He shuts the book, holding it out to Lupin, who's still staring at him. Regulus’s hand is shaking again. “All yours,” he mutters, but his voice is slightly crackly. 

“You’re a parselmouth.” 

Regulus says nothing. 

“Does Sirius know?” 

Sirius did in fact know. They’d found out when they were kids, staring at their front door. Their mother had locked them out for the night after Regulus had forgotten to tidy under his bed and Sirius had trashed his own room in solidarity. The metal snakes that were coiled around the handles to their homes were starting to stir. They only moved at night, only when watched. Now they were tightly wrapped around both handles, locking both the brothers out. 

Sirius had been angry, banging on the snakes with both fists. Regulus had been close to tears, practically begging the doors to open. And then, miraculously, one of his pleas seemed to get through. The snake paused, and Regulus repeated whatever he’d just said. When the snakes obeyed and slithered back, unlocking the door, Regulus had felt a rush of unknown power flow through him. For the first time in his life, someone had listened to him. Had followed his directions. 

After that, Sirius had drifted a little further away, the gap between them growing a bit more. Regulus had assumed he was angry, maybe jealous that for once Regulus had been the one to get them out of trouble instead of him. Then Regulus confronted him about it. “You looked like them, Reg.” Sirius had whispered sadly. “You looked exactly like the rest of them.”

Here, in the library, he just shrugs. 

“Does Dumbledore know?” 

“Does it matter?”

“What did it say? What did you say?”

“I thought we’d agreed no questions.” 

“Just one more. What the fuck did you curse me with?”

Regulus says nothing, flipping the book open quickly till he finds the page Lupin had been on. Immediately howls filled the air, loud and demanding and terrifying. Lupin shoves himself away from the book as if he’s been punched, but Regulus leans over and calmly places it on the other boy's lap. He stands up quickly, nods to the terrified Lupin, and leaves the library. He can still hear the howling as he shuts the door behind him.

 

---

 

When he slips back into the common room that night, Dorcas is waiting. She's sitting in one of the green stuffed arm chairs in front of the fire, reading. She looks up when he enters. 

“Reg?”

“Dorcas.”

“Where’d you go?”

He doesn't look at her. “Out for a walk.”

She sighs. Closes her book. “You know, at first, I thought Pandora was being… well, Pandora. She kept insisting that you were different this year. None of us really believed her. But I was thinking about it, and she might be right. You do seem… a bit off, Reg.”

“What does that mean?”

Dorcas looks up at him. She, too, understood. No extra emotions, no sappy sugar coating. She knew when not to press a point. “Nothing. If you need help, I’m here. You know that. If you need help and don’t want it, I wish you the best. If you don’t need help at all, carry on.” 

He stares at her for a moment, a rush of gratitude flashing through him. Two offers of help in one night, he thinks. Must be some kind of record. But this one didn’t make him want to peel his skin off. He likes this one better.

He offers her a small nod, walking past. “Night, Cas. See you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” He leaves her by the fire, and goes to bed. 

 

--- 

 

The next day, at breakfast, Barty sits himself next to Regulus with a newspaper in his hand. “Are you seeing this?” He asks in a lowered voice. Regulus glances over. Death Eaters poisons 10 Muggles on Street Corner, all in St. Mungos For Treatment. In the picture, the dark mark blazes high above the scene. Regulus closes his eyes for a moment. He keeps reading.

All muggles were found to have an unidentified substance in their lungs, says investigating Auror. A gas released in the vicinity, likely a Death Eater product. All victims are in comas at St. Mungos hospital. Experts are working on waking them up, but so far there’s been no successes. 

Regulus doesn’t need to read anymore.

He looks up, across the hall. Lupin, Potter, and Sirius are all crowded over the newspaper, no doubt reading the same article. There's no air of hushed excitement emanating from them as there is from most of the Slytherins. At the Gryffindor table, faces are solemn and words are exchanged in serious whispers.

For some unattainable reason, Potter looks up and locks eyes with Regulus. His expression remains neutral, but Regulus can see the quiet fury blazing behind his eyes. Regulus looks away first, ignoring the roiling feeling in his stomach. 

He gets up quickly, ignoring Evan and Barty’s questions. He walks out as quickly as possible, trying to clear his mind. He can feel himself spiraling, circling closer and closer to a cliff he's bound to fall off. He needs to get somewhere private before he does. 

The newspaper's still clutched in his fist. He doesn’t allow himself to run as he leaves. He keeps his paces long, efficient, but steady. He finds an alcove, the closest one, and sinks down behind the statue inside it.

He lets himself fall off the cliff. 

Regulus bends over slightly, trying to steady his frantic breaths. The realization, the guilt, is curling around his stomach. He wants to gag. 

Of course, he knew this was going to happen. He knows who did it. Rabastian and Dolohov had planned it in his kitchen over a cup of tea. Rabastian had taken his black with two sugars. 

Regulus made the gas that did it in the basement below them. 

At first, he didn’t know what it was going to be used for. The Dark Lord had stormed in one day, requesting a private word with Regulus. They’d met in his potion lab, the house above them eerily quiet. Regulus had waited behind the table, eyes fixed on the Dark Lord on the other side of the room. He could feel each heartbeat. He didn’t speak. 

“I need a sleep potion. In a large quantity.”

Regulus nodded. He could do that. “Of course.” He reached for the ingredients. 

“I need you to add powdered wormwood.”

Regulus’s hand stilled. “That would- that would be deadly to the drinker.” 

“Add a large amount, then.” 

“My Lord… a single taste and you’d never wake up.” Everything in Regulus was tight, coiled, ready to run. 

“Good. Is there anything else you need… clarified ?” 

“No. Of course not.” 

Regulus went through the motions of the sleeping potion, pulling a few sprigs of lavender right off the plant. He dropped in the flobberworm mucus, heating the cauldron gently. He grabbed the bottle of crushed Valerian from the shelf, measuring and then adding. 

He stirred, once, twice, seven times. 

He paused, unable to look away from the swirling potion. He could feel the Dark Lord's eyes on him. There was no point asking what the potion would be used for- there was no question there. But he couldn’t help wondering why. Why a sleeping potion? Why not a draught of living death? 

He didn’t risk asking. 

When he found the small box labeled as wormwood, he glanced up. “My Lord… even inhaling this can be dangerous. Do you have anything to breathe through?” 

The Dark Lord retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully held it to his face, his eyes never leaving Regulus. 

Regulus reached down and from under the table he pulled out a black mask and slipped it on. Just the smell of the wormwood made his eyes water as he pulled out the root and started to grind it in his mortar and pestle. 

He wondered why the Dark Lord didn't just make him go out there and use Avada on who ever the potion was for. He wondered if that would relive some of the guilt, or make it worse. 

With each circle of the pestle against the fraying root, he felt this was different. The killing curse was one word, one quick spell that took a persons life instantly. But this was a series of steps, each one intentional. With each addition he knew what he was doing. What the potion would be used for. And the quantity… he was condemning an unknown number of people to their deaths with each counterclockwise motion. 

Because that was the thing. Regulus never cared about blood supremacy. He never cared about purebloods or muggles, or winning a made up war. He cared about surviving, about breathing, about staying afloat. He’d vowed a long time ago that he’d do anything he had to to make it out alive. That didn’t save him from having a conscience. 

Staying alive was the sentiment he focused on as he raised the mortar, tipping its powdery contents into his palm. He lifted it over the dark potion, hesitating. Regulus glanced up. The Dark Lord nodded, raising his eyebrows. Regulus could feel the water rising in his lungs. 

Just stay alive. 

So Regulus opened his hand, watching as the powder instantly dissolved in the swirling liquid. He stopped before all the powder was gone, keeping his hand tilted away from the Dark Lord. He tried not to choke on the betrayal. He’d added just enough. Just enough to not be a regular sleeping draught, just enough to hurt. 

Desperately, violently, he hoped it wasn’t enough to kill. 

He made a show of wiping his hands off behind the table, thanking Merlin that the Dark Lord couldn’t see the excess powder dusting the floor at his feet. He stirred the potion two more times, then poured it into a large jar. He capped it, nearly numb, then crossed the room and handed it to the Dark Lord. He followed him up the stairs, sat himself at the kitchen table. Watched as Dolohov and Rabastian picked out a date. A street. He kept his hands clasped in his lap. 

He ignored the white powder beneath his fingernails. 

Here, in the alcove behind the statue, Regulus wants to pull those fingernails off. He bites his lip, desperately trying to focus on the words in front of him. 

He understands now why the Dark Lord had wanted a sleeping draught and not a draught of death. It made sense. You couldn’t put the draught of death into a gaseous form. It would crystallize before it would vaporize. But a sleeping draught… well. 

Regulus can feel the water rising again. He’d assumed the Dark Lord would only give the potion to two people, maybe three, but ten? That’s ten that might not wake up.

Because of Regulus. He almost laughs. What would Sirius think? 

He didn’t have a choice, he reminds himself. He had to stay alive. Still does, actually. Still has to learn how to swim. So no, this wasn’t his fault. Those children no longer have mothers and fathers not because of him, but because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. He was blameless. 

So why can he still feel the powder under his nails? 

Regulus resists the urge to scream, instead pressing a hand over his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. His chest shudders. He can’t breathe- at all. How can he when the water in his lungs is starting to crawl up his throat? 

All muggles were reported to have damaged brain tissue from the inhaled gas. It’s believed powdered wormwood has had widespread damaging effects, including on the lungs and brain stems. Healers are working on a remedy, but so far there have been no breakthroughs. 

The words swim up at him from the page, and something inside Regulus breaks. 

He leans forward, scrubbing at his fingers furiously. He digs his nails into his cuticles, scrabbling at his nail beds. Rubbing his fingers against his trousers, desperately trying to get the powder off. Maybe, if he can just get it off- get it all off- he can find a way to sew himself back together. Maybe if he can contain the guilt, trap it inside himself, he won’t feel like he’s splitting at the seams.  

He digs into his fingertips, trying to get everything under his nails out. A drop of blood lands on the paper beneath him. Two, three more drops join it. Oh well. What's a few drops of blood to someone who’s already choking on it? Covered in it?

Then someone’s grabbing at his wrists, wrenching his hands apart. He struggles for a second, eyes snapping open. Why are they stopping him? What they don’t understand?

And then his eyes meet someone else’s. Dark as chocolate, long black lashes. Gentle and full of concern. Glasses that glint slightly in the light. 

Fuck. 

Not him. 

Regulus yanks his wrists out of Potter’s grasp, shoving himself away from him. “Get out,” he spits. He puts as much violence as he can fit into the words. He feels concerningly feral. Potter doesn’t blink. 

“Stop- stop. What are you doing? Regulus? Regulus- can you just- you need to breathe.” James's crouching, watching him with wide eyes. His eyes flick to the newspaper, the drops of blood. Regulus wants to crawl out of his skin. 

"Leave.”

Potter clicks his tongue, still watching him. “Nicely,” he chides.

And- what the fuck? What the actual fuck? 

For a moment, Regulus can’t respond, truly at a loss for words. James doesn’t seem to have that problem. 

“What are you doing Regulus?” 

Regulus thinks about just walking out. He’s actually considering it when he decides that his legs wouldn’t be able to carry him. 

“I need you to… look at me, or talk to me, or tell me what's happening.” James looks consternated, glancing between the paper and Regulus’s bloody hands. “I don’t understand.”

Regulus keeps his voice cold and as face expressionless as he can manage. “Fuck off, Potter.”

For some unattainable reason, James’s eyes soften. “I’m trying to bloody help, you ungrateful prick.” 

Regulus begins to dig at his nail beds again. If he can get the powder out before James notices, maybe he won’t tell Sirius. Regulus can still deal with this. He’s not helpless. He just needs to get his fingers clean. 

“Regulus! Stop.” Again, James grabbed his hands, pulling them apart. Regulus hisses a curse instinctively, watching numbly as James releases his hands like he’d been shocked. “Fuck! Did you just curse me?” 

He should probably stop cursing Sirius's friends.

Regulus glares at him. “What are you doing here, Potter?” He tucks his hands under his legs. If he can’t clean them, he’ll keep them hidden. 

James glares right on back. “I saw you fucking gloating over that article in the great hall, and then you left and I- I don’t know. I followed. I wanted to confront you, or something. I was angry.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Then I found you, here. And you didn’t look like you were in the mood for confrontation.”

Regulus considers that. “What were you going to do when you found me? Punch me? Curse me?”

“I- maybe.” James looks sheepish. “I didn’t think about it.”

“I know thinking can be hard for you.”

“Fuck off. You’re getting me sidetracked.” James looks down at him with a slight frown. Regulus hates him. “What are you doing, Reg?”

“Regulus. Or Black.”

“Regulus. What are you doing, Regulus?” 

Regulus stares back. With James here, he can shove down the water in his chest. He can take some breaths. He can compartmentalize, try to focus. His hatred serves as a nice beacon, guiding him straight to the older boy. He says nothing, trying to fit years of resentment into a single stare. He keeps the rest of his face cold and neutral. Potter has seen enough of his emotions for a lifetime. 

“Did you… did your family have something to do with this?” James points at the newspaper. Regulus wants to be sick.

“What makes you think they did?”

“You read the article, leave the great hall with said article, then have a breakdown behind a statue in the hallway. But I don’t know any Slytherin that would have that kind of reaction to such a… happy event. You don’t seem as thrilled as the rest of your house.”

Regulus considers killing himself. Right here, right now. He shuts his eyes instead. “The bell’s going to ring soon. You should get to class.”

James sighs. “Are you always this rude to people trying to help?”

Yes. Maybe. To you.  

“Help?” Regulus says instead. “You just came in here, intending to punch me, and accused me of… I don’t know, murdering ten people?”

“They aren’t dead-”

“They might as well be.” 

“-and anyway, that's not right. I came in here and tried to stop you from hurting yourself. Because I don’t know what was happening but that wasn’t- that wasn’t good. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Why?”

“Why? You’re Sirius’s little brother.” 

“Am I?” Regulus watches as James pauses at that, obviously taken aback. 

“I- yes. You are.”

“Maybe tell him that.”

“Regulus-” The bell cuts James off, and Regulus has never been more glad.

He raises a brow at James. “Best get going.” 

James gets to his feet. He looks visibly frustrated at having to leave Regulus alone again. “Just don’t- just. I don’t know. Nevermind. Be careful.”

Regulus watches him, still on the floor. He says nothing. He waits till James leaves before he starts to crumble. 

Notes:

Let me know what you think! anything is welcome, i live to learn and all that

Chapter 4: Into the Chamber

Summary:

Its all in the title

Regulus considers killing James Potter. He could do it quickly, maybe hide the body in the forbidden forest. No one would have to know. Of course, he'd have to kill his friends as well. Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew wouldn’t be too hard, he reckons. He could take them. Sirius is the only one actually trained to fight, but he’d probably not practiced in a while. 

Either way, Potter spreading the story of his little… issue around school just wouldn’t do. Regulus actually wants to throw himself off a cliff when he thinks about it. He’s fully prepared to find Potter and obliviate him. There'd be complications, but nothing he couldn't handle. Right now though, he doesn’t quite have the time. That spell requires skill, and he really needs to find the chamber first. 

After charms, Regulus has Care of Magical Creatures. The walk down to the class space is long and cold, the wind instantly biting through his robes. Luckily, he has the class with Dorcas. She bounces lightly in an attempt to keep warm.

“Anyway, I think we should go.” 

“Go?” 

“To the party.” 

“Who’s having a party?” In his defense, Regulus has been a little distracted.

“The Gryffindors. They’ll have weed, at least. Our supply is low. Maybe we could steal some.”

Regulus shakes his head. “We absolutely should not go to a Gryffindor party.” He wrinkles his nose. “Hufflepuffs have better weed anyway.” 

“Why not? Could be fun.” Dorcas rubs her hands together. Regulus had the foresight to bring gloves, but the wool scratches against his raw fingers. 

“Why do you want to go so badly?” He sends her a look. “Is there someone you want to see?”

She glares right on back. “Is there someone you don’t?” 

And- well- that’s fair. They walk in silence for a bit. It’s Dorcas who breaks it. “I know Evan and Barty really want to go, and Dora already agreed.” 

He sighs. “Can’t you go without me?”

She loops her arm through his and bats her eyelashes up at him. “It just wouldn’t be the same. And anyway,” She looks slightly more serious. “We could all use some fun. I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a rough year.” 

“You’ve got a feeling or Pandora has a feeling?”

“Does it matter? Let’s just get you really pissed and then you won’t even have to look in your brother's direction.” 

For once, it wasn’t Sirius Regulus was afraid of running into.

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I’m not staying the whole time.” 

Dorcas smirks and squeezes his arm in thanks. They’ve reached the rest of the class.

 

--

 

After the lesson, Regulus lets Dorcas go up to lunch. He corners Professor Kettleburn while he’s putting away his gloves. 

“Professor? Do you have a minute?” He stands up as straight as possible, clasping his hands behind his back. 

Kettleburn starts, then turns to face him. “Oh! Mr. Black. I have a bit. What do you need?”

“I just have a few questions, Sir. About a magical creature.”

Kettleburn sniffs, looking him up and down. “Are you Sirius Black’s brother?”

Regulus grits his teeth. “Yes, Sir. As I was saying-”

“Lovely boy. Always with those friends of his, but lovely boy.” 

Regulus can’t bring himself to nod, instead just staring at Kettleburn. “My question, Sir.” 

“Right, of course. What did you need?” 

“My mother wanted me to do a little personal project on Basilisks, but I couldn’t find any information in the library. I was wondering if you could tell me anything.” Regulus waits. 

Kettleburn eyes him. “Basilisks, eh? Dreadful creatures, but quite fascinating. No, I don’t suppose you’d find any books on the subject.” 

“Right. So…” Regulus trails off imploringly. 

“Well, they are quite deadly. Meeting a basilisk's gaze alone can kill instantly, and eye contact through something, like a mirror or lens, will petrify the victim.”

Well fuck him then. 

“A rooster's cry is deadly, of course. But I’m not sure if there are any antidotes to its venom.”

“Venom?”

“Oh yes. Basilisk’s fangs are filled with venom that will kill within 10 minutes. Destroys skin, objects, anything.” 

Regulus considers this. “Do you know if the poison has to be ingested? Or would one get sick purely from skin contact?” If he was going to have to touch the fangs, he’d have to be careful. 

Kettleburn frowns. “I imagine it has to be ingested. An odd question, boy.” 

“Forgive me sir. I just have one more. Can a basilisk be… controlled?”

Kettleburn watches him with an odd look in his eye. “This is for your report?”

Regulus nods. 

“Then… no, I don’t think so. A parselmouth might have some influence, but basilisks are notoriously independent creatures. Honestly, my boy, I’m not an expert on the subject. That’s basically the extent of my knowledge.” 

“Thank you, Sir. That's all.” 

Kettleburn eyes him, but nods. “Enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Black.”

---

Regulus agrees to meet the others around 8 for the party, so he has some time to kill. He narrows down the bathrooms to the one on the 4th floor and the 2nd. The 4th is still used, but the 2nd floor one has been out of use for some time now. Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Regulus decides that would be the one. The place where the girl rests. That has to be her, doesn’t it? Did Myrtle get killed by the basilisk?

When he finds the bathroom, he slips inside quietly. He locks the door behind him. “Myrtle?” Nothing. He glances at the sinks. Third from the door. He crosses to it quickly. Examining it, he finds twin snakes curled around the handles. He leans back.

Regulus takes a deep breath. This is where it counts, he supposes. This is where everything starts. Up till now, his progress has consisted solely of research. Questions. Nothing substantial. He always had time to get out. But now this, right here, this is very real. He does this, and there is no guarantee he’ll make it to that party tonight. But what’s his other option? Sorry, Lord Voldemort. I didn't complete my one and only task. I was too scared.

Survive, no matter the cost. This is his test. This is his way out. This is his survival.

Open. The word is pulled from him, from somewhere deep in his stomach. Immediately, the snakes on the handles begin to move. They curl back, retreating into the drain. The sink itself begins to move, loud and grating, the sound of stone on stone. Regulus steps back, raising a hand against the plume of dust. The sinks part, revealing a circular tunnel behind them.

A cold gust of air hits him as he moves closer. He sighs, grits his teeth, and enters.

The tunnel is tight. Regulus has to awkwardly crouch, shuffling along. He lights his wand. The tunnel is cold and dark, lined with dust. Suddenly, it drops down into a steep slant. Regulus pauses, looking down into the depths. Maybe this is where he commits. He sits down on the edge, then, after a moment, he pushes himself off. He slides down faster than he is expecting. The air brushes past his face, whipping through his hair. He nearly laughs but remembers himself.

He is deposited ungracefully into a circular cavern. Something crunchy breaks his fall. He makes his way to his feet, glancing around. Bones. Some large, some small, but definitely bones. They're littering the ground, covering it in small white pieces. It must be at least three layers deep. He makes a face but moves forward anyway.

He has questions, but those are for later. He pushes out the how and the why, leaving space only for the now.

The cavern leads to a hall, long and dark. He starts down it. The bones turn to marble, dark grey. His footsteps echo. He passes a few more doors, then he is there. A larger hall, bigger than the one he was just in. Snake statues rise out of water resting next to a marble walkway in the middle. At the end, a huge room. And in the middle, a face.

Regulus’s first thought is that Salazar Slytherin looks nothing like him. He is an old man with a long beard, mean eyes, and a gaping mouth. If there is a relation, and there must be, it's distant. His second thought is how terrifying the statue is. It takes up an entire wall, for one. The eyes seem to bore into him, angry and watchful, as if the statue knows Regulus is there. It is jarring, and probably a little more chilling than it should be.

Regulus turns his attention back to the statue’s gaping mouth. Obviously another tunnel, the same size as the one he came down. So that's where the snake is. Regulus moves quickly. He runs through the chamber to the statue's beard, which he quickly climbs. The large folds of carved marble make easy hand and foot holds. He makes his way up till he is perched on top of the statue's head. He looks around, grabbing a pebble. He leans over the statue's head, shuts his eyes tight, and throws the pebble up its mouth. He sits back, pulling out his wand. He points it where he thinks the basilisk will emerge. He keeps his eyes shut and waits.

Slowly, he begins to hear it. The snake scales on the marble, the quiet hiss he can’t quite make out. And then it is clear and loud, and the snake has to be out of the tunnel by now, and Regulus’s heart is pounding. Blindly he aims at the basilisk. “Conjunctivitis!”

The Basilisk roars immediately, and Regulus can hear it thrashing. He must’ve hit his mark.

See, see, see I can't see, the Basilisk repeats. What did you do? Master?

Tentatively, staring directly down at first, Regulus opens his eyes. He slowly looks up. The Basilisk is huge, larger than he’d imagined. It is grey and slimy, thrashing back and forth on the ground. Its eyes are swollen shut. When it opens its mouth to roar, its fangs are long and deadly. Regulus scrambles back on the statue's head, pressing himself against the far wall. Fear courses through every artery, sending his fingers twitching and chest heaving. 

I'm sorry, he chokes out. The Basilisk stops thrashing.

Who are you? You aren't... The snake trails off, twisting its head in Regulus’s direction.

I- it doesn't matter. He's out of practice, the parseltongue coming out garbled and stiff. I’m sorry about your eyes, Regulus says. I needed to do that. You’d kill me otherwise.

I'll still kill you, boy. I can smell you. You smell like fear and sadness. The Basilisk begins to advance in Regulus’s direction.

Regulus presses himself harder against the wall. If you kill me, you’ll never get your sight back.

The Basilisk stops. It seems frustrated. Why are you here? No one's been here in so, so long.

Doesn’t matter. Who was your old master?

Too many questions.

Shall I go, then?

No! Not without returning my sight.

I just need to do something first.

Regulus takes a deep breath. Picks up his wand again. Best to just get this out of the way. “Stupefy!”

The spell ricochets off the snake’s scales, hitting the wall just above Regulus’s head. The Basilisk roars again, starting forward before whipping its head back. Shit.

Didn’t work, did it? Can’t hurt me, little boy.

Regulus swallows, crawling as slowly as possible to the edge of the statue. He begins to lower himself down. The spell didn't work. He’d jumped into this too quickly. What was he thinking? He should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy. He had gone into this way too unprepared. What would the Dark Lord think?

What would his mother think?

Regulus sets his jaw. He won’t make the same mistake again.

Right now, though, he needs to get out. This entire ordeal was a mistake. Standing at the base of the statue, he looks up at the Basilisk. I’m leaving. I will be back.

Give me my sight back first. If you leave me like this, I’ll kill you the next time you come. I don’t care if you blind me again. I will suffer forever if it means I taste your blood.

Merlin, the snake is dramatic. Regulus considers, then nods. Okay.

Before that can happen, though, he begins to run. He sprints, actually, as fast as he can. Back through the chamber, towards the door that leads to the hallway. If he can get there, he can close the door, and the basilisk will be trapped again. So he runs. His footfalls echo around the chamber, and behind him, the basilisk hisses angrily. Regulus' breath is frantic.

He skids to a stop next to the ajar door, turning. The basilisk is slithering towards him at alarming speed. He needs to do this. He has to do this. He raises his wand, putting one foot out the door and turning his head away from the approaching snake. “Oculus!”

Regulus shoves himself through the door, hisses it close, and waits till the iron snakes find their way into locked position. Not a second later, he hears a thud. Not unlike a thousand-pound snake running headlong into a wall, come to think of it. He lets out a long breath. He is shaking. Not just his hand, but all of him. Dangerously hard. His heart is pounding in his chest. He’d been running on adrenaline the whole time and now waves of exhaustion are washing over him. He needs some energy, though, to get back up the tunnel to the girls' bathroom, so he begins to move. Once he reaches the tunnel, he glances up. There is no easy or graceful way to do this. The slope is steep, but not so steep that getting back up is impossible. He doesn’t think he could do it on his own, however, so he casts a sticking charm on the soles of his shoes and his hands and begins to climb.

His muscles are screaming by the time he pulls himself onto the floor of the girls' bathroom. Everything is screaming, actually. Again, he curses his unpreparedness. He pulls himself to his feet, swaying a bit. He has a party to get to, and he’s going to be late.

Chapter 5: The Party

James Potter has always hated Regulus Black. He hates him because Sirius when showed up on his doorstep, beaten and alone, Regulus was nowhere to be found. He hates him because when Sirius lifted his shirt there was a gash on his side that looked slightly different than the rest. When James asked him about it, Sirius looked away and softly muttered “my lovely brother.” James hates Regulus because Sirius hates Regulus. That’s always been enough for him. 

At first, he’d pushed back. He’d asked Sirius once, if he ever thought about going back for Regulus. That conversation hadn’t ended well. He’d make subtle comments to his mother about getting the other boy out too, but she’d always smiled and murmured that it was Sirius’s decision.

And then one day in the great hall, Sirius had received a howler from their mother. She had been furious, threatening both him and the Potters. Telling him to return home or he’d be no son of hers. The entire great hall seemed to stop, to pause, to listen. All faces turned towards the spectacle that was the imploding Black family. Sirius had tried for a smile, tried for a funny comment, and ended up leaving his breakfast with some quick excuse. After Remus had gone after him, James had looked over at the Slytherin table. While the majority of the hall had fallen silent, Regulus and his friends were laughing lightly at something Crouch had said. Regulus didn’t even look over once, instead giving Rosier a sharp grin. After that, James stopped resisting. 

So for the next year, James had shunned Regulus just as Sirius had. He laughed at all of Sirius' awful jokes. He listened to all his jibes. And at night, he held Sirius while he sobbed, rubbing his back and tracing the rigid line of his scar under his shirt. James averted his gaze when they passed Regulus in the halls, and every new death in the newspaper only solidified his stance. Even though Sirius’s scars faded, his anger never did. James’s didn’t either. 

But then he’d found Regulus curled in on himself, hiding behind a statue, one of those very newspapers at his feet. James had caught his eye across the hall, watched how intently the people around him were reading, and with each hidden smirk felt his fury build. So when Regulus left the hall, newspaper in hand, James had followed. He needed to say something. Maybe do something violent. He wasn’t quite sure yet. But then the younger Black had ducked behind that statue, and James had followed. 
 
He wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. It was obvious Regulus was not quite as pleased about the recent news as he’d seemed. His breathing had been frantic and irregular, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. He’d been scratching at his fingers, leaving them bloody and raw.

It didn’t seem like quite the right time to punch him.

So James let his anger simmer, but he tucked it away. Because as much as Sirius hated him, Regulus was still his little brother, and that meant he had to be okay. That meant it was James who had to put him back together because Sirius couldn’t. So James helped. Or, he tried. Regulus seemed to be very resistant. 

You’re Sirius’s brother. 

Am I? 

The words run through his head as Mary leans forward, gently stamping another sun onto his cheek. She’d gotten the face stamps over the summer, and ever since then it’d been rare to see any of the Gryffindors without the occasional sun or moon or star or raincloud somewhere on their body. She’s been stamping James with little gold suns, like freckles, for the better part of 5 minutes now. He’s got to be thoroughly covered. She leans back to admire her work. 

“Perfect. Now for Sirius- should I do stars or moons?”

James grins at her. “Definitely stars. But you know, I would throw a few moons in there as well. Oh- do one right on the tip of his nose. Please.” 

Mary winks, hands him back his glasses, then slides off his bed. “Sirius! Get your ass in here!” 

James watches as Mary all but tackles Sirius to the bed, sticking him with stars. As Sirius laughs, James feels a snake of guilt curl around his stomach. He hasn’t told Sirius about his little run-in with his brother. He meant to, really- he left Regulus in the alcove and then marched straight off to find Sirius. But when he saw him he was smiling, his head tipped onto Remus’s shoulder. And so James had stopped and watched. The soft glint of Sirius’s teeth. The flash of genuine happiness in his eyes. James couldn’t do it. What would he say, anyway? 

Hey Sirius, just to let you know, I found your little brother having a panic attack after breakfast today. Hey Sirius, I’m not sure Regulus is as ok as we thought he was in that house, and I haven’t been since we left him there. Hey Sirius, Regulus might not be a full blood supremacist yet.

There still might be time. 

Needless to say, James left it unmentioned. Instead, he’s occupied himself with a frustrated Remus and a broken record player. The needle went missing a few days ago, and they've yet to get anyone to confess. In the mean time they've been doing their best to transform various small objects into suitable replacements. It hasn't been working particularly well. The party's already started, people milling around in the back, passing around firewhisky. Remus points his wand at a hair clip laying on the table and mutters a frustrated spell. The clip shudders, then transformed into a sewing needle. Remus curses. 

James chuckles lightly, clasping Remus on the shoulder. “You’ll get it, mate.” 

Then he shrieks and jumps onto a chair, a rat running between his feet. Remus, startled, shoots a spell at it. It’s probably supposed to be a stunning spell, but the rodent stops, squeaks once, then promptly transforms into a record needle. Both Remus and James stare at the rat (needle?) then at each other. Quickly, glancing around, James hops down and scoops up the needle, tossing it to Remus. Remus turns and carefully fits it to the record player’s arm. The swell of music fills the air, and a loud cheer goes up. The boys exchange one last look, then turn back and enter the party. 

---

James is fairly sloshed. He’s pretty sure that he and Sirius have polished off a bottle of firewhisky between them. Mary's tucked in the corner, intensely snogging some bloke with blond hair. Remus is sitting on the couch, Sirius’s head half on his lap. He's staying stock still, obviously afraid to jostle him. Other houses trickle in and a small cloud of smoke starts to gather in the air above the Hufflepuffs in the corner.

A little while ago, a girl came down asking if anyone had seen her rat. Remus had turned up the volume on the record player in response.

James walks over, plopping himself down next to Remus and slinging an arm over his shoulders. Pete found them soon after, curling up in the last corner of the couch. They always seemed to find each other, James thinks. Some magnitude that centered them all. 

“I don’t think Moony is nearly pissed enough. Do you think he’s pissed enough, Prongs?” Sirius attempts to look at James without moving his head. 

“Not at all. Far too sober for the rest of us.”

“You need to have fun, Moons.” 

Remus grunts. “I’m quite pissed, cheers though.”

Sirius tisks, staring up at Remus from his lap, eye’s wide. “Not enough, though. You haven’t even started with the Bowie yet.”

“Bowie isn’t playing.”

“When has that stopped you before?” 

Remus rolls his eyes and leans over Sirius, grabbing the firewhisky off the table. He takes a long swig, Adam's apple bobbing above him. James presses a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh at the nearly obscene look on Sirius’s face. The door to the common room opens again, and James glances up. 

Regulus looks bored. Somehow. He always looks bored. But this was a party. A right good one too, so he shouldn’t look so bored. James finds himself frowning. Behind Regulus, a few more Slytherins trickle in, almost flanking him. Regulus is wearing a black shirt, a few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up. His curls are hanging loosely in front of his face. 

Merlin. James needs to sober up. 

And then Regulus’s eyes meet his and they narrow, almost imperceptibly. What’s he thinking? Is he thinking about before, behind the statue in the alcove? James is. Then Regulus’s gaze flicks over, to Remus beside him. And then he’s moving. James sits up a bit, elbowing Remus. 

Regulus neatly weaves through the throng, coming up short before Remus. He doesn’t even glance at James or Sirius. His hands are tucked in his pockets. James remembers how they look that day behind the statue. Torn and bloody, ripped to shreds. He wants to see them. He needs to make sure that Regulus is leaving them alone, that they’re healing properly.

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Reg?” That was Sirius. 

“Lupin.” Regulus pointedly does not look at his brother. 

“What are you- you don’t- Moony what’s this about?” 

“I- don’t. I don’t know.” But he does know, James thinks. He looks nervous. What’s happened?

“Whatever you need to say to him, just say it here.” Sirius is half sitting up, looking unhappy about having to leave the comfort of Remus’s lap.

“Lupin doesn't want me to say it here.” Then Regulus cocks his head. “Unless… Do you Lupin? Want me to say it here?”

Remus swallows. “No. Can’t this wait?”

“No.”

“Fine. Sirius, you’re going to have to sit up. I know, I’ll be back. You’ll be fine. Lay over Prongs if you must.” Remus gently pushes Sirius the rest of the way off his lap before standing up. “Regulus, let's go over there. Only for a bit. You get five minutes.”

James watches Regulus’s eyes darken at the commands. He’s used to setting terms among his peers, not obeying them. James, not for the first time, tries not to choke on the similarities between the Black brothers. Maybe best not to point it out. After a tense moment Regulus nods and walks away, Lupin following close behind.

Sirius goes still next to James. Every muscle tensed, all eyes trained on the pair whispering in the corner. James reaches over and puts a hand on Sirius’s arm. “It’s okay, mate.”

“What are they talking about?” Sirius’s voice sounds odd.

“I have no idea.” James tips his head back against the couch, eyes flicking to Regulus.

His expression is cool and cold as ever while he argues with Remus, occasionally gesturing. James wonders if Regulus ever smiles. Is it possible? Did his anatomy allow for it? Maybe he did, a long time ago. Maybe his parents took away his smile the same way they gave Sirius his. Because Sirius smiles sharp and defiant, a promise of hope and rebelion. In a weird, round-a-bout way, it was Orion and Walburga that gave him that defiance. Forced it upon him, really. Because of his parents, Sirius had learned to smile with all his teeth. James wonders what Regulus’s smile would look like. A real smile. He can’t picture it. Then again, he is quite pissed. He’ll try again sober.

In the corner, Remus’s hands fly up as he apparently gives in. He turns and marches up the stairs, reappearing a minute later with a book. He shoves it at Regulus who smirks and turns away, book tucked under his arm. He slips back into the crowd. Remus glares after him and then turns, crossing back over to the couch. He flops down with a huff. Sirius stays silent, not looking at him.

James glances between them. Fine. He’ll do it. “What is that about, Moony?”

Remus looks up. “Oh. Yeah. He just wants to borrow a book.”

“How does he know you have it?” Sirius crosses his arms.

“We-“ suddenly, Remus’ mouth snaps shut. He looks panicked, eyes wide. “I’m trying to say that we-“ again, his lips seal, seemingly against his will. “What the fuck?” He hisses to himself.

Sirius and James stare at him. James furrows his brow. “Moony?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell y- oh!” Suddenly Remus looks furious with a new revelation. “That bloody little fucker!”

“Remus, you really gotta help us out here. What’s happening?”

“He cursed me. We were- mph- and he- ugh. He cursed me!” Remus is obviously struggling to get out a full sentence, very clearly frustrated.

“He cursed you?” James narrows his eyes.

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill him. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he- mph- ugh. I can’t tell you. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when I try.” He smacks himself in the forehead. “Stupid. I’ve read about this curse… I should’ve known… I bet I can’t write it out either.”

Sirius’s glare hasn’t lessened. “How convenient.”

“I- what?” Moony furrows his eyebrows, confused. James glances between them. He doesn’t like the glint in Sirius’s eye.

“Bloody typical.”

“Pads-” James starts. Because now Remus looks angry. None of this is good.

“You think that- that I'm lying?” Remus sits forward on the couch. Peter shifts nervously next to James.

“He cursed you.”

“Yep.” Remus’s glare is cold.

“Oh, ok. Sure. Now I get why you didn’t even think to try and mention that before now. Thanks for clearing that up, Moony. Really thought after the whole wolf thing we’d be done with secrets.”

And, to Sirius’s credit, that strikes James as odd as well. Why hasn’t Remus at least tried to tell them about whatever happened with Regulus before now?

Remus looks helpless but stays silent. Sirius stares at him for a moment before pushing himself off the couch. “Fucking unbelievable,” He mutters as he storms out of the common room.

A stony silence falls over the group. Next to him, Peter hiccups. “James, one of us has to talk to him.”

James nods glumly. He’d normally already be up the stairs, but the look on Remus’s face makes him pause. “Pete, why don’t you take this one for now. We can switch later.” Peter makes a low groaning sound as he stands up but dutifully plods up the stairs.

As soon as he is out of sight, Remus groans in frustration and slams his head back against the couch.

“Moony?”

Remus turns to look at him. He looks so sad. “Why do I keep messing things up, Prongs?”

“You don’t. Don’t worry. He’ll get over it. Though- you might have to tell him the truth about this one, Mate. Whatever that may be.”

Remus shakes his head sadly, glaring up at the ceiling. “I can’t.”

“Right.”

“Fucking Regulus Black.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “That whole fucking family. They’re all bloody insane.” He pauses. “Why can’t I get it right, James?”

James has a feeling he isn’t talking about Regulus anymore. “Get it right- with Sirius?”

Remus nods. “He’s always mad at me about something. Always. I can’t- I don’t- ugh.”

James bites his tongue. “What can you tell me?”

“We-mpgh.” Remus’s mouth snaps shut again. “Not much, apparently.”

“Right. Look, I’m sorry Moons, but why didn’t you mention it until now?”

Remus looks down. “I can’t say.” James studies him. Can’t, he thinks, or won’t?

“The curse?”

“Something like that.” Remus looks sad. “I… I wish I didn’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pushing everyone away with secrets.”

And James really, really doesn’t like seeing Remus sad. So. Something has to change.

James is standing before he knows what is happening, the alcohol lifting him to his feet. He isn’t about to let Sirius’s traitor of a brother mess with Remus’s life. Not when they’ve done everything to make sure he stays safe. James can’t let Regulus break Remus too. Not after Sirius. He can’t have both.

“Prongs!” Remus calls after him, but James is already slipping into the crowd.

He finds Crouch first. He is leaning against the wall, talking to some 5th year in a miniskirt. He has a hand on her waist.

“Crouch. Where’s Black.” It is hardly a question.

Crouch looks up lazily. “Oh, Black? Last I saw he was running up the stairs crying like a baby. Looked awfully pathetic. Nothing new, I guess.” He shrugs and turns back to the girl, who giggles drunkenly. James feels his blood boil. He reaches out and yanks Crouch’s arm off her waist, pulling her back from him a bit.

“Go find your friends,” He growls at her. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll only regret it in the morning.”

She glances nervously between Crouch and James before stumbling away. Crouch catches her eye and winks as she leaves. He turns back to James. “Now why’d you do that? Not all of us have to pine over women from afar, Potter. No need to take your jealousy out on me.”

James, somehow, doesn’t punch him. It is really an excellent show of restraint, he thinks. He deserves a medal. “Where’s the other Black?”

“Ohhhh,” Crouch says in mock realization. “You meant Reggie. I have no idea. Why would I?”

James turns away from him. How can one person possibly waste so much time? He ducks behind the door up to the dorms. He rummages through his pockets, pulling out the map. He taps it and watches as it begins to fill in. He finds Regulus’s name quickly. Astronomy tower. Lovely. He folds up the map, leaves the party, and begins to walk.

   --- 

He finds Regulus seated at the base of the large telescope, a book resting open on his knees. There is a bottle of firewhisky sitting next to him. His head snaps up as James enters. “Potter. Kindly leave.”

James doesn’t listen, crossing the room quickly. “What the fuck did you do to Remus?”

“Lupin? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you bloody well do. What happens with you two?”

Regulus raises one perfect brow. He stays quiet.

“Take back whatever curse you put on him. Now. Take back the curse, and leave him alone. Honestly- give back the book too.”

Regulus tips his head. James narrows his eyes. Godrick, Regulus is drunk. “See, this is why I put the curse in place. I knew he couldn’t go three seconds without running to one of you. It’s on him, really. And I’m definitely keeping this book.”

“Take back the curse.”

“You seem to think I’m intentionally antagonizing him.”

“You are.”

“I’m really not. If he didn’t try and say anything, it wouldn’t have been an issue. It’s not hurting him, is it?”

James frowns but shakes his head. “Then why do it?”

“I want nothing from him but his silence. You don’t even know what this is about. Why does it matter?” Regulus shuts his eyes.

James pauses. “You’re forcing him into a box.”

Regulus opens one eye. He doesn’t disagree.

“You don’t know. You don’t get it- he doesn’t need more secrets. He doesn’t need this.”

“Right.”

“He doesn’t need more boxes. He doesn’t need more things to… to worry about.”

“I’m not antagonizing him, Potter.”

“Regulus-”

“We aren't friends. We actively hate each other. Do not call me Regulus.”

“Does pompous ass work better for you, your highness? I can’t call you Black.”

Regulus doesn’t seem to understand. “Why not?”

“Sirius is my best mate.” He pauses. “He’s your-”

“I thought we covered this.”

James stands for a moment, then finds himself sinking to the floor in front of him. Regulus rolls his eyes. “Oh good, you’re staying.”

James studies him. His eyes are darker than Sirius’s, and crueler. Sadder. His eyelashes are long and inky black, like the curls that fall around his face. “I don’t get you,” James whispers.

Regulus doesn’t respond, eyes shutting again.

“How are you so… mean? How can two people raised in the same house turn out so different? Sirius is so full of light and you’re just so… dark. I don’t understand. You’re one of them, aren’t you? A death eater? Sirius insists you are. If you weren't, you would’ve left when he did. But if you were, I wouldn’t have found you on the floor breaking down over a few muggle deaths-”

“They aren't dead.”

James gives him a quizzical look. “They might as well be.” He feels a little cruel, throwing Regulus’s words back at him. Then again… “Then this thing with Remus. You’re such a… contradiction.” He sighs. “I don't get you.” He is definitely too drunk for this. He is fairly certain half that speech makes no sense. This is not a conversation he should be having right now.

Regulus is quiet. And then, eventually, softly: “It wasn’t the same house.”

“What?”

Regulus cracks his eyes open. “Whatever my brother tells you, we weren’t raised in the same house. It just- wasn’t. You want to know why he’s so fucking full of light Potter? It’s you. He found you and just… lit up. So he tucked tail like a bloody coward and ran. During the school year, then after that during the summers too..” He winces at the admission and opens his eyes, focusing on James. It seems to take him a second. "He had you and all I had was him."

James shoves down the feelings in his throat. The guilt that's never fully left.

Then he remembers Sirius’s eyes that night on his doorstep. So lost. He remembers the cut that Regulus gave him, dark and wide across his ribs. When James speaks, his voice is low. “Don’t ever, not once, tell me he was a coward for leaving. That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Regulus just snorts. James glowers at him. Why doesn’t he get it? “They were killing him. You were killing him.”

Regulus’s eyes flash. “Me or him, Potter. I did what I had to.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Regulus clamps his lips shut as James' stomach drops. Regulus’s chest is rising and falling. His eyes shut for a moment and he takes a few shaky breaths. 

“Reg,” James tries, realization creeping down his throat. It tastes a lot like guilt. 

It doesn’t matter which version of the house Regulus grew up in. He’s still there.

There’s a brief moment of silence. Somewhere in the night, the wind rustles the trees. When Regulus’s eyes open again he is as cold and bored as ever. A mask restored. His fist unclenched at his side. “You should’ve left when I said, Potter. Run back to your mates and the party. I’m sure brave little Sirius needs his golden boy right about now. Oh- and Lupin,” he tips his head. “Tell him we agreed no questions. Sending you in his place still counts.” Then he turns and walks off, footsteps crisp and echoing in the tower. He’s left the book on the ground.

“He was just trying to stay alive,” James whispers at Regulus’s retreating back.

Regulus doesn’t turn around. “So am I.”

--- 

 

By the time James makes it back to the common room, his heart is pounding. He can feel himself vibrating, just slightly. Just under his skin. The book- Werewolves, Basilisks, Ghouls, and Other Creatures of the Night- is tucked to his chest. He grabbed it, for some reason. It felt wrong to just leave it there. James can guarantee that Remus already knows everything there is to know in that book. About werewolves, at least. Some new answer he hasn’t found yet. James actually isn’t entirely sure how anything fits together. He isn’t sober enough for that. He doesn’t know why Regulus is involved either, but he is trying hard not to think about Regulus. Very hard.

He pushes through the door to the common room, swaying slightly. The party is definitely over. There is still some trash laying around, cups and the like, but the house elves will get to those later. Lily, Mary, and Marlene are laying on the rug in front of the fire. Lily is reading, Mary is braiding her hair, and Marlene has the rug pulled back and is scratching something into the hardwood floors. They all look up when he enters.

“James. Where’d you go?” Lily blinks at him. He blinks back. She's still the prettiest girl he knows.

“Um, just for a walk. Needed some fresh air.”

Marlene gives him a sympathetic look. “Wrong time for a walk, mate. Sirius and Remus are fighting. Again. Poor Pete looked like he was about to have an aneurysm when he came down and found you gone. Best go check on that.”

Shit. “Right. Thanks Marls.” He glances around at the others. “Goodnight ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get to bed at a reasonable hour, kids.” Mary snorts as he walks away.

When James makes it to the top of the stairs, Sirius’s curtains are pulled shut. Remus and Pete are sitting on Remus’s bed, talking in hushed whispers. When Peter looks up, he is glaring. James swallows. Peter slides off the bed and stalks towards him just as Remus falls back against the pillows, silent and moody.

“What the fuck were you thinking? I thought we had a system, James. Divide and conquer. Yet I come downstairs to find that we divided, but we certainly hadn’t conquered. Where the fuck did you go? I thought you were gonna stay with Remus.”

“I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry. How bad is it?”

Peter just glares.

“Ok. I’m gonna talk to Sirius.” James swallows. He side steps Peter and parts the curtains of Sirius’s bed, slipping in. He finds the other boy curled under the blankets, turned away from him. James gently pulls himself under too. He casts a silencing charm.

“Pads?”

“Mmph.”

“Right. How you doing?”

“Mrhgm.”

“Thought so. What's up?” Stupid question.

At that, Sirius dramatically turns himself over so he is facing James. He looks the epitome of distressed. “Why would he do that?” He hisses. “I genuinely don’t understand.”

James casts a silencing charm over Sirius’s bed. Over the years, he’s learned how to navigate Sirius’s brain. The way he speaks. His trains of thought. He can read him easily. “Elaborate.”

Sirius throws his hands up. “Oh, I don’t know. Going off having adventures with my death eater brother involving books, which, actually, makes sense for the both of them- and then saying nothing about it. Lying to me when I ask. Traitorous dickwad.” James doesn’t mention his recent activities. It seems like the wrong time.

“Wait- Remus or Regulus?”

Sirius growls. “Both.”

“Maybe Remus can’t tell you.”

“Really, James? That's your excuse? He can’t tell me?”

“Have you tried- and this is just a thought here- talking to him about it?”

“Down at the party. You were literally there.”

“Ok. Well. I don’t know if that was so much talking as angrily confronting-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Sirius waves his hand. “He’ll tell me or he won't. I’ll forgive him or I won’t.”

“You’ll forgive him.” James is confident in that much, at least.

There is silence for a while. Sirius breaks it. “I haven’t forgiven Regulus.”

More silence. “I know.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“...I know.”

“Can you? Can you forgive him?”

“No.”

In the dark, Sirius nods. “At least I’ve got one real friend.” He's being sarcastic, but James has known him long enough to find the truth in the words. Guilt burns his stomach. He is becoming awfully used to the feeling.

“Talk to Remus, Pads. Seriously.”

“Eh? Serio-” Sirius is cut off by a pillow to the face from James.

“No.”

“Ugh! Fine.”

More silence.

“You wanna know what pisses me off the most?”

James waits. Sirius keeps talking. “I took so much shit for him. Regulus, I mean. I took so much shit for him. So many hits, cuts, whatever. Yet he refused to talk about it. Ever. Never once thanked me, which, fine, ok, I don’t need thanks. But you know. Once I… got out, I expected to see him covered in bruises and cuts. After all, his shield was gone. I was gone. But he was just totally fine. Not a scar in sight. Which begged the question: did I need to take those punishments? If he's fine on his own, did I even need to do that to myself in the first place?”

James considers this. “I don’t think that was ever something you should’ve had to do. Ever.” He can practically feel Sirius’s eye roll next to him. He ignores it. “I just- I wouldn’t be sure he’s fine, Pads. He’s still in that house.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know you do. It’s just. I don’t know. I don’t think he’s fine.”

Sirius turns away from him. “He’s a lot fucking better than I ever was.”

James lets his eyes sink shut. He's just so tired. “Yeah. You're probably right.”

Next to him, Sirius stays quiet.

Maybe James Potter has always hated Regulus Black. Or maybe he’s just tried so hard to.

 

 

Chapter 6: The Closet

“Mr. Black? Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I asked if you were ok, Mr. Black.”

“I’m fine, thank you sir.”

Dumbledore studies him from across the table. “I understand you still live with your parents, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But your brother does not?”

Regulus grits his teeth. “No, sir. He lives with the Potters now.”

“Quite right. And do you know if your parents are in contact with a man who calls himself ‘Lord Voldemort’?”

“I don’t believe so, sir. No.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Black? We’ve gotten multiple reports of death eater meetings being held at your current place of residence.”

How does he know that? Was there a mole? “Not to my knowledge, sir. I doubt my parents would get involved with anything that dangerous.”

“I see. And would you?”

“Would I, sir?”

“Would you get involved with something that dangerous?”

Regulus meets his eyes. “No, sir.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Mr. Black?”

“No, sir.” 

“Return to your classes, Mr. Black. We will talk again.”

Regulus makes sure the door didn’t slam on his way out. 

 

----

 

Regulus doesn’t mind the Chamber. Really. It’s dark and cold and smells like rotting mildew- but somehow Regulus fits in there. It's as if his bones have settled among those of the rats that line the corridors. Some part of him is just as at home there with the snakes and the grey marble as he is back at Grimmauld Place. There is something inside him just as dark as Salazar's statue’s gaping mouth.

After his first little miss-adventure, he’d done his research. As much as he could, anyway. He’d gotten that book back from Lupin and had about a thirty-minute conversation with the mini basilisk before Potter showed up. He learned that the basilisk’s sense of smell is one of their strongest. He learned that no one, absolutely no one, has control over them- contrary to what Professor Kettleburn said. He learned normal curses wouldn’t work. The basilisk's scales were too thick. The only way to kill a basilisk, the book-snake said, was the cry of a rooster. This was unhelpful, as Regulus didn’t want to actually kill the thing. So he adapted. He had a plan this time around. Unfortunately- it relied on trust. Something Regulus isn't known for. He’s been to the chamber a few times since the first, gaining confidence with each visit. Something has yet to go horribly wrong, but it's only a matter of time.

Regulus’s footfalls echo off the walls as he walks briskly down the hall towards the main chamber. He notices the shirt he’d left last time is flung over one of the snake statues, torn nearly in half. He’s started leaving clothing after his second visit. He figures that the Basilisk best get used to Regulus’s scent if it won’t be able to see him. Most of the clothes have been scattered and destroyed.

He steps into the main chamber, tilting his head to regard the looming statue coolly. Salazar Slytherin’s eyes seem to follow him wherever he moves. After a while, Regulus found it's best to meet the statue's gaze immediately; get it out of the way.

Regulus grabs a pebble off the ground and shoves it in his pocket. He takes out a pair of trousers from his satchel and lays them in the middle of the chamber. Then he crosses to the statue and begins to climb the slippery marble folds of its beard. He makes his way to the very top of Salazar’s bald head, lowering himself down into a crouch. He bends forward, and with practiced aim, chucks the pebble up Salazar's mouth as hard as he can. He leans back and waits.

There is always a moment, right before the Basilisk appears and he casts the blinding curse, of pure anticipation. Regulus tries to calm his nerves by reading his wand, shutting his eyes and focusing on listening for the snake's scales against the tunnel below him. Usually he can keep all his attention on waiting for the sound of the snake, the moment to strike. Today, though, he can feel his thoughts slipping. Slipping to dark curls and a sparkling grin. He wonders what James has thought that day when Sirius showed up on his doorstep. Did he ever even think about Regulus? Did Sirius? Did James hate Regulus as much as Regulus hated him? Because Regulus does hate him. Truly hate him. He can still remember the day that Sirius came home from school, boasting about his new best mate James. Can still see the look in Sirius’s eyes. That was the day that Regulus knew, really knew, that he would never get Sirius back. He’d been lost; to the school, to his new friends, to those stupid Potters. And then, the next year, on Regulus’s first day, Sirius had dragged him into his train compartment. Introduced him to everyone. And when James reached out to shake his hand, he’d smiled, eyes glittering, and Regulus had to leave. Because at 11 years old he didn’t know much, but he knew that his Maman wouldn’t approve of whatever feelings were bubbling in his stomach. So he’d risen to his feet and stalked out of the compartment, leaving Sirius and his friends inside. He was pretty sure James still had his hand extended when he let the doors slam.

He isn’t sure what has tipped him off to the Basilisk’s imminent strike. It could’ve been the small gust of air he’d felt when the snake lunged. It could’ve been simple intuition. Either way, he instinctively throws himself to the side, keeping his eyes shut. He hears the snap of a jaw right where he is crouching. He scrambles for even footing on the statue, eyes still closed. He can’t risk opening them, not for anything. He lunges forward again, away from the snake.

Shit.

He’d miscalculated.

Regulus’s stomach plummets as he tumbles through the air. He’s overshot in his blind state, accidentally throwing himself off the statue's head. He lands hard on his ankle. He feels the bone snap. This is bad. The pain shoots through him, and he grits his teeth with a small whimper. He immediately pulls himself forward, dragging his body across the ground. He can’t stay in one spot for too long. Not when the snake can see and he can’t. He feels the panic in the back of his throat. He’s so vulnerable . Too vulnerable. He rolls again and hears the snake’s scales against the marble, closing in. He pulls himself onto his knees and tries not to cry out in pain, ankle throbbing. He angles his face directly down and opens his eyes a sliver, making sure to only stare directly at the ground below him. In his peripheral vision, Regulus can see the body of the basilisk, moving at a rapid rate towards him. He points his wand at where he assumes the head is, and sends out a silent prayer.

“Conjunctivitis!” his voice cracks, but the roar of the basilisk somewhere above him tells him he’s hit his mark. He rolls away one more time for good measure, landing on his back. He hesitantly opens his eyes, slowly at first, then all the way once he confirms the basilisk’s eyes have swollen shut. The creature is letting out raw sounds of desperation, thrashing its head every which way. Regulus pulls himself backward till his back rests against the statue’s cheek. He stretches his leg out in front of him, wincing at the movement. He takes a deep breath.

Ok. So. This. This is maybe worse than Regulus had originally thought. So much for things not going horribly wrong.

His ankle is definitely broken. He can try a healing charm, but the one concerning broken bones is dangerous. Still- he doesn’t really have any other options. Before that though, he has to get himself out of reach of the ever-more furious basilisk. Stuffing his wand in his pocket, he drags himself up, clinging to the statue. He does his best to put all his weight on his good leg, but can’t help the small sob that escapes his throat. He grabs a ledge above him- the statue's hair- and begins to laboriously pull himself up. His arms tremble with the effort, his heart racing. He seriously hopes the basilisk isn’t coming at him that very moment. He knows he wouldn’t be able to dodge. And then he’s throwing himself onto the ledge and collapsing in an undignified heap, gasping. He pulls himself up until he’s sitting. He glances back at the basilisk. It’s wildly tossing its head around, furious in its blindness. Its hisses are desperate and painful.

Can’t see. Can’t see. Can’t see. Again, again. 

Regulus regards it coolly. Stop complaining. You’re fine. The parseltongue is starting to come easier now- it seems the skill improves with regular use. 

To its credit, the basilisk calms slightly, turning to face Regulus slowly. I smell pain. I'll make more.

If you kill me, who will give you your sight back? You need me. Regulus is a bit tired of repeating himself every time he visits, but he’s run out of ideas- and the Basilisk is right about one thing. He is in quite a bit of pain. 

The Basilisk seems to consider this. Let me see. 

No. You’ll try to eat me. 

Yes. 

Regulus rolls his eyes. He focuses his energy back on his leg, lifting his trousers around his ankle slightly. It’s swollen and purple- not good. 

“Shit,” he mutters, in English. He digs his wand out of his pocket and points it at his ankle. He refuses to let his hand tremble. It’s difficult, dangerous to do it on yourself. He knows the spell well- Salazar knows he’d had to use it before. Too many times. Mostly on Sirius, but since he’d left… Regulus has had to adapt.

Fear. The basilisk flicks its tongue out, tasting the air. 

I’m not afraid. Regulus isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. He steadies his hand and takes a deep breath. “Brackium Emendo.”

The pain shoots through him once again, doubling him over and sending him gasping. Once the initial wave has passed, he tentatively rolls his ankle. He bites his lip to stop the cry of pain. The spell hasn’t failed exactly… but it hasn't worked either. His ankle is better, but not healed. He doesn't know if he’s going to be able to walk on it. He doesn’t have a choice. Attempting the spell again is too risky. 

More pain. Good. The basilisk slithers slightly closer.

You make yourself really easy to get on with, Regulus grumbles, scooting till his legs are dangling off the edge of the ledge. There’s about two feet of space between his feet and the ground. He’ll have to jump. He lowers himself as much as possible and then drops, landing hard on both feet. He swears and slams his eyes shut against the pain, grabbing the cool rock for support. 

Eat. The basilisk is getting closer. Regulus knows, logically, that it won’t attack. Not while it’s blind. But he also knows that he’s in a weakened state and that the basilisk is very hungry. Tentatively, he takes his first step. 

It hurts. Bad. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Regulus crosses the chamber slowly, avoiding the blind monster as much as possible. Once he reaches the entrance to the tunnel, he pauses. He could cast the counter curse and give the serpent its sight back. There were flaws in that plan. He knows the serpent would immediately attack when it no longer had a reason to keep Regulus alive. Normally he would just make a break for it- sprint until he could shut the snake door behind him and lock it. That wasn’t an option now. He could go wait at the snake door and give the basilisk its sight back then, but the snake would be too close for a guaranteed exit. He could leave the snake blind- but he knew if he did that he would never succeed. All trust- all potential trust- would be lost.

Give me sight, the basilisk hisses, sensing his indecision. Regulus grits his teeth.

He calmly points his wand at the beast, steadying himself. There’s really no other option. “Oculus.” 

The snake blinks once, twice, and then immediately lunges for Regulus. He throws himself to the side, stumbling. He limps towards the door, reaching back when he can and firing stunning spells at the basilisk blindly. They all bounce off its shiny scales. He keeps his eyes on the door in front of him. The basilisk lunges again, this time from the side. Regulus dodges left, only for the beast’s tail to send him flying the other direction. Pain explodes across his side. Regulus knows instantly he’s broken some ribs. He gets to his feet, turning his head as far away from the basilisk as possible, sending more curses its way. They seem to be the only thing slowing it down. He moves again towards the door, making progress. He dodges again, his shoes slipping in the clear streams that run down the outsides of the corridors.

With the basilisk right behind him, Regulus throws himself through the door, instantly hissing it close and locking it with a spell. He hears the angry thumps of the basilisk on the other side. He gasps and slides down the wall, no longer able to support himself. Regulus takes a shaky breath, dropping his head into his hand. Ow. He tentatively probes his face. He must’ve bruised his cheekbone when he fell from the statue.

He takes careful stock of his injuries. A hurt ankle, to what degree he isn’t certain, but definitely not something he should be walking on. Some broken ribs, which are currently throbbing painfully. Top it all off with a bruise growing on his cheek. Lovely.

He looks towards the tunnel that leads up to the girls' bathroom. It’s enough of a struggle with two working legs. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it with one.

He limps over to the entrance. It’s steep- so steep he regularly needs to awkwardly crawl his way up the tight shaft. He pushes himself into the tunnel and begins to drag himself up it. It’s hell. His side is screaming in agony, his leg not much better. It’s normally an awkward ordeal but this… this is just embarrassing.

When Regulus was little, his mother had made him and Sirius run up and down all the stairs in their house until they couldn’t stand. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough to stop her. She would stand at the bottom, stopwatch in her hand, the magical ticking somehow amplified throughout the house till it rang in Regulus’s ears like a bell. 

“Physical strength is just as important as mental,” Walburga’s sharp nails tapping impatiently on the banister. “Regulus. Faster.”

Regulus had always been slightly weaker than Sirius. And tripping up the stairs behind his brother, he could feel it. Tears began to gather in his eyes as he stumbled again, landing hard on his knees. Sirius paused- only briefly, and grabbed for Regulus’s arm, pulling him up. 

“You need to keep going, Reggie,” Sirius’s voice was a rushed whisper. “Keep going. I promise it’ll hurt worse to stop.” 

Regulus dragged himself further up the stairs, every muscle in his body screaming. He found it hard to believe that stopping would be worse than this- watching Sirius vomit over the side of the railing above him. His mother growled, low in her throat. “Pull yourself together. Keep going.” His cry of pain was lost to the sound of the stopwatch. 

Here, in the steep tunnel up to the school, Regulus can almost swear he can hear the ticking. It rings through his head with every throb of his ribs, till it’s all he can hear. He pushes himself up the shaft, gritting his teeth. 

Eventually, when his muscles had turned to jelly, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make his legs keep moving. He collapsed on to the stairs, gasping. Regulus watched as Walburga rose up the steps, wand ready. He watched as she raised it- not at him, but at Sirius above him. He closed his eyes against the sound of the curse, Sirius’s cries. He knew what that meant- not for Sirius, but for himself. For later. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. 

Regulus can almost see the top of the shaft now, the light peeking through the darkness. Or maybe that was just his imagination. He can’t tell. He wonders if the ticking of the stopwatch was in his head as well. 

After Sirius had been forced to clean up his vomit and been sent to his room, Walburga asked to see Regulus in the kitchen. Regulus knew what was coming. He walked in with his head up, staring his mother in the eyes. Even at 10, he knew how to be angry. 

“Arm.” Walburga didn’t even look at him, turning to the counter. Regulus slowly rolled up his sleeve, all the way to the top of his shoulder. Walburga turned, the knife in her hand.  

That’s definitely the top of the tunnel above him. He pulls himself further up, blocking out the ticking stopwatch with thoughts of James Potter. It's his fault for getting Regulus into this mess in the first place. It's thoughts of Potter that have distracted him into missing the basilisk’s entrance. If he hadn’t been so… distracting, Regulus would’ve blinded the Basilisk immediately and avoided all this unnecessary injury. It's all so inconvenient.

His fingers grasp the floor of the girls' bathroom. He pulls himself up, arm muscles burning. He throws himself onto the wet bathroom floor, and before he lets himself pass out or faint or… something, he pulls himself to his feet and stumbles to the door. It isn’t opening. Why isn’t it opening? He shoves himself harder against the door. Please, he begs.

And then the door pops open and Regulus falls forward, landing on the cold tile of the hallway. 

Ouch.

Everything hurts. 

Someone is saying his name, but it sounds a bit more like a gasp. There are shoes in front of his face. He looks up, lifting his head slowly; then promptly lets it fall back against the floor.

Of fucking course.

He simply does not have the energy for this.

His head is swimming, and he can’t do this. That doesn’t matter. He could be three steps from dead and still wouldn’t allow himself to look anything less than perfect in front of Potter. He pushes himself onto his feet, immediately swaying. James is saying something, a hand reaching out to steady Regulus, and no. Absolutely not. That just wouldn’t do. He stumbles backward, leaning against the corridor wall for support. There's a broom closet a little way up. If only his head would stop spinning… maybe… he grabs the handle and throws himself inside, pulling the door shut after him. He collapses against the back wall. He has only a few seconds to pull himself together before James appears. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, shuddering.

---

 

James isn’t expecting someone to fall at his feet on his way to charms. Usually when people fall at his feet, it’s much more… romantic. Usually, the person isn’t bruised and half unconscious. Usually, that person isn’t Regulus Black. Today seems to be an exception.

Yet here he is, crumpled at James’s feet, seemingly half-dead. James has no idea what to do. Then he’s on his feet, eyes wide, and James instinctively reaches for his arm. But Regulus is pulling back, hissing as if he’s been burned. He turns and stumbles down the hall to a broom closet, where he flings open the door and collapses inside.

For a moment, James just stares at the door. He should really walk away, leave him there. After everything with Sirius, and now with Remus… he owes it to them to turn around. But he’s been there, behind the statue in the hallway. He’s seen the look on Regulus’s face in the astronomy tower. And now- he’s seen the blood on his cheek. The limp in his walk. He can’t leave him there. Can he? Something inside James protests at the very thought, angry and persistent against his ribcage. He sighs. For all his protesting- James can’t walk away. He just wouldn't be able to. He crosses over and opens the door.

Regulus is sitting slumped against the back wall, shirt lifted to reveal ugly bruises all over his side. He’s gently prodding them, biting his lip. When James opens the door, he glares up at him.

“Leave.” His voice sounds awfully more composed than he looks. James takes a step in. Regulus’s scowl hardens.

“Somehow that’s how you’ve started every one of our little interactions.”

“Wonder why. You’d think you’d get the hint.”

James ignores him. “You don’t own this broom closet.” So, maybe not the best way to approach it, but hey, James is thinking on his feet.

“What did you say?”

“I mean- I’m pretty sure that all broom closets in the school are open to student use. All students. And I’m a student, last time I checked, so-”

Regulus scoffs and starts to rise, bracing himself against the wall. James takes a step back in genuine fear. But Regulus’s leg is giving out under him, and he curses, sliding back down. James resists the urge to move towards him.

“What the hell happened to you?” James asks, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t need anyone seeing this.

Regulus ignores him, pulling out his wand. He points it directly at James, eyes cold.

James quickly raises his hands in surrender. “Yes. Ok. I won’t ask questions. Will you at least let me help? You need someone else to cast those healing charms, and I have a feeling you don’t want me going to Madam Pomfrey.”

“I’ll get someone else to do it.”

“Oh yeah? You’re gonna drag yourself all the way down the hall in that state? You can’t even stand up.” James is not winning himself any points in the make-Regulus-let-me-help-him department.

“Get out.” Regulus touches another bruise on his side and winces, nearly imperceptibly.

“Regulus.” James’s voice softens. “Let me help. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Regulus seems to be considering. James sighs.

“What if I just go get Madam Pomfrey anyway?”

Regulus’s head snaps up at the threat. His eyes narrow. “I wouldn’t, if I were you."

James sighs. “Fine. Will you let me help you?”

He knows he’s probably making a mistake. This is Sirius’s detested little brother. James has been given explicit instructions to “spit at the little fucker every time you see him in the hall”. He hasn’t followed through. But here he is- obviously in need of help- and James can’t leave that broom closet.

He won’t.

Regulus is watching him coolly. He looks so composed, so different from the shaking boy that collapsed out of the girls' bathroom a minute ago. James isn’t sure how he does it.

“Fine,” Regulus relents. James tries not to smile. “My ribs are broken, and my ankle’s half-broken. I’ll deal with my face later.” Regulus sits up a bit straighter.

James blinks. “Half broken? What does that mean?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I already fixed it. Or tried to. It must not have fully healed though because…” he trails off, leaning down to lift his pant leg. Regulus’s ankle is swollen and bruised with ugly shades of purple and yellow. It looks awful.

James sighs. “Reg…”

“Black.” Regulus corrects.

“Regulus. That’s bad. I’m surprised you made it down the hall like that.” James takes a step closer, pulling out his wand and crouching down. “This is going to hurt.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean it’ll hurt worse the second time. I’ve studied this in charms, and when you repeat the process, the pain doubles, so-”

Regulus holds his gaze. “Potter. I know.” James tries not to think about that too hard.

“Brackium Emendo.” James flicks his wand.

Regulus takes a shuddering breath in front of him, the only indication of his pain. He’s slightly bent over, his nails digging into his forearms. James swallows nervously.

One time, back in second year, James had fallen from his broom and broken his wrist. He’d begged Madam Pomfrey to use the spell instead of Skele Gro, having felt the painful effects of the potion before. When she’d tried the spell on him, he was pretty sure he’d screamed loud enough for the whole school to hear. Yet here Regulus is, being frighteningly quiet. James wants him to make a sound, anything.

“Regulus?”

“Do my ribs.” His voice is strangled, but his eyes are determined. He uncurls himself enough to lift his shirt, exposing the bruises spattered across his side.

James just shakes his head, knowing it’s pointless to argue. He mutters the spell again, watching as Regulus bends double, swearing almost silently.

“I’m sorry,” James tries helplessly. Something clenches inside of him at the sight.

“Ugh. This is all your bloody fault.” Regulus spits, curling over a bit farther.

“My fault? How is this my fault?”

 James tries, genuinely confused. Regulus shuts his eyes tighter, breaths quickening.

“Hey-” Instinctually, James reaches out, putting a hand on Regulus’ back. “Just breathe.”

Traitor, a voice in the back of his mind hisses. What would Sirius say?

But Regulus is already rising, shoving off James’ hand. He stands unsteadily, grabbing the wall for support and making his way to the door.

He pauses, hovering in the doorway. He sways even as he levels James with a glare. “Not a word, Potter.”

“Or what? You’ll curse me like you cursed Remus?”

Regulus doesn’t meet his eyes. “If I have to. I should’ve, after- after-”

“That time I found you in the hallway.”

Regulus nods. James sighs. “I didn’t say anything then. I won’t say anything now.”

Regulus’s brow furrows. “You didn’t? Why the fuck not?”

James shrugs, silent.

Before Regulus leaves, he looks James over. He nods, just once. When he speaks, his voice is scratchy. Quiet. “Thank you.”

And for the first time as James watches Regulus's retreating back, his mind is quiet. Singular. He doesn’t think death eater. He doesn’t think blood supremacist. He doesn’t think traitor.

He thinks

Hm.

Notes:

"Because at 11 years old he didn’t know much, but he did know that his Maman wouldn’t approve of whatever feelings were bubbling in his stomach." is the closest reg is getting to actually acknowledging his crush for a while btw. have fun with that.

Also... "hes so distracting?" Really? Wonder why...

Chapter 7: Lockdown

Summary:

After an attack on Beauxbatons, Hogwarts goes into lockdown. Students get locked in classrooms- and Regulus's companions are less than desirable.

Notes:

I feel like this is a fairly light chapter considering what proceeds and follows it. Enjoy it.

Regulus is having a bad day. The Basilisk doesn’t seem to be. 

I smell pain, it hisses. Regulus is once again perched on top of the statue's head, leaning against the far wall. Staring at the giant snake and brainstorming. 

Yeah. That’s your fault, by the way. 

Mm. Good. 

It wasn’t as bad anymore. His ankle stings slightly when he walks, and his ribs are sore, but both are tolerable. His cheek… is making things difficult. The bruise hasn’t healed with a spell, or dittany, or any of the many potions Regulus forced down his throat. It’s stubborn. It remindeds him of Walburga’s magic, fiery and dark, there to stay. In a way he’s kind of grateful that sort of magic was recognizable: he knows how to deal with it. He’s practiced at this. He can manage. . 

What do you want? The basilisk is turning in slow circles in the middle of the chamber. Regulus considers his question. 

Nothing I can easily get. He crosses his legs in front of him. 

You remind me of my master. My boy.

It isn’t the first time the Basilisk has mentioned his master. It seems to be a frequent topic of conversation.

Was your master Slytherin? Salazar himself? 

The Basilisk just hisses in response. No answer. 

Regulus lets his head fall back against the wall. What did your master want that he couldn’t get?

The Basilisk rises up, giant head level with Regulus. The sun.

Right. Well. Regulus doesn’t want the sun.

He sounds insane.  

You’re talking to a snake, little prince. Him no more than you. 

The basilisk made a fair point, actually.

Regulus thinks about James, a broom closet, and wide eyes. He feels a little insane in that department too. James’ gaze on him, full of concern. Genuine, actual concern. He’d reached out- touched him- and Regulus had felt like he was on fire. Burning up. Like he needed to get out of there, back to the water where it was safe and familiar and cold, or he’d be incinerated. 

You’re thinking again. 

Tends to happen. Regulus watches the Basilisk curl around again.

Its giant tail reaches almost to the other side of the chamber. About the sun. 

No. 

Don’t lie, little prince. I can smell its warmth all over you. 

There’s always the fear that the Basilisk will forgo sight and just kill him. Strike out, make it quick and painful. Sometimes the snake lunges forward, and for a second, Regulus worries he’d been wrong. About everything. But his test held, and the basilisk stayed back. 

For a few visits, the basilisk wouldn’t come out. It’d stay in its tunnel, far away from Regulus and his curses. But eventually it’d slither out, dutifully accepting the pain of blindness. Regulus asked why once.

You could hide. Why don’t you? 

The Basilisk seems to consider. Your blood just smells too good. I can’t help it. It’s been decades.

Sometimes Regulus thinks it just likes the company. 

 

---

 

Regulus has no strong opinions on Remus Lupin. He’s… fine. He’s not as annoying as Sirius or Potter, and he's not as naive as Pettigrew. 

And fine, yes, Regulus cursed him, but what choice did he have? He was right to do it, it seems. Lupin couldn’t go 3 seconds without running to tell Sirius and his friends about their meeting in the library.

He’d left the book in the astronomy tower that night. It was unfortunate, but not the end of the world. He assumed Potter brought it back to Lupin. It was fine. Regulus got what he needed- which was more time with the basilisk. More information. 

Yet now, watching Lupin stalk down the hall towards him, Regulus finds himself slightly uneasy. Lupin’s tall and broad, and looks angry. 

Lupin stops just short of Regulus who lifts his chin and does his best to stare him down. “You fucker. You had to curse me? You couldn’t just take my word for it?” 

Regulus raises one brow. “Apparently I made the right call.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You tried to tell my brother and your friends. Like- immediately.”

Lupin seems to consider this. He nods in reluctant admission. “Well-” 

“Then you sent Potter after me? Really?”

Lupin glances up, startled. “James? I didn’t tell James to do anything. He actually went to see you? I thought he was just angry.” 

Regulus says nothing, re-evaluating. 

“And either way,” Lupin continues. He’s nothing if not persistent. “Why were you looking for that snake? What did you say to it? I feel like I’ve earned the right to know.”

“Why were you looking for that Werewolf?”

Lupin stares at him, brows furrowed. “I-” 

Suddenly, a loud boom shudders through the castle. Both Regulus and Lupin flinch back, glancing around. A voice, amplified, rings through the halls. Dumbledore. 

“ATTENTION STUDENTS. WE’VE JUST RECEIVED WORD THAT BEAUXBATONS ACADEMY OF MAGIC HAS BEEN ATTACKED. WE WILL BE ON LOCK DOWN UNTIL THE THREAT IS CLEARED. PLEASE FIND THE CLOSEST ROOM AND STAY IN PLACE UNTIL THE LOCKDOWN IS OVER.” 

After a second, the message begins to repeat. 

Around them, students begin to flood into classrooms, doors snapping shut and magically locking behind them. Regulus’s head is swimming. Beauxbatons had been attacked? He didn’t know that was going to happen. They hadn’t told him. What was the Dark Lord doing? What was he expecting to get out of attacking children? Surely they wouldn’t go after Hogwarts? Surely they would at least warn Regulus first? Besides- almost all of Slytherin house was on the Dark Lord’s side. There’s no way they would risk it. 

Right?

Lupin snaps Regulus out of his spiral by grabbing his arm. “We need to get to a classroom. Now.”

Regulus glances up, shoves Lupin's hand away. “Which one?”

They spin in circles, looking. Doors were closing all around them. Both Lupin and Regulus are smart enough to know they won’t open again until the lockdown is over. 

Then, under them, the tiles of the hallway begin to move, sending Lupin and Regulus stumbling. It’s as if the castle itself is trying to get them to safety: rolling beneath their feet, pulling them across the hall. The door to a broom closet they’d assumed was locked slams open and they’re ungracefully deposited inside. The door shuts behind them. 

Regulus glances around. He’s starting to get really sick of broom closets. Across from him, Lupin’s already tugging on the handle. Regulus opens his mouth to tell him it’s pointless when the door opens violently. Lupin stumbles back with the force of it.  

On the other side, Sirius watches them both, mouth slightly open. He keeps one hand on the knob. 

Regulus closes his eyes. 

Then the floor tiles shove Sirius in with a yelp, and the door slams shut behind him. For good this time. 

For a moment, everyone stays silent, staring at each other. Regulus notes the frosty look Lupin gives Sirius. That’s… new. 

And then the ice breaks, as it often does beneath Sirius’s anger, and Sirius is glaring daggers at the both of them. “Of fucking course. Merlin.” 

Remus stalks forward. “You think any of us wants to be here? Not our bloody fault the death eaters attacked Beauxbatons is it?” 

Sirius narrows his eyes. “Maybe not yours. Hey Reg, could’ve at least given us a warning, huh? Could’ve brought some cards or something to pass the time.”

Regulus sits down against the far wall, still limping slightly. His ribs give a small twinge as he lowers himself, but compared to the last time he was injured in a closet, he’s doing fine. 

Silently, he curses his luck. Why did it have to be Lupin and Sirius? There were hundreds of kids in this school. Why not Pandora or Dorcas or Barty or Evan or… well. Actually. This might be preferable to Potter. 

“Oh, so now you won’t even look at me.” Sirius’s voice cuts through his thoughts. Naturally, Regulus does look at him, passive and cold. Bored. Everything Sirius hates. He’s perfected it over the years. 

“Sirius. Just sit down.” Lupin sighs, sinking down across from Regulus. “We’re gonna be here for a while.” 

Sirius sits with a glare, loud anger obviously  bubbling beneath his skin. Regulus can almost feel its heat.

Regulus tips his head back against the wall, still swimming with questions. He tries to think things through. It’s obvious why the Dark Lord chose Beauxbatons over Durmstrang- the Scandinavian school was widely known to focus it’s education on the dark arts. As a result, most of the Dark Lord’s international allies hailed from the northern part of the continent. Beauxbaton, on the other hand, was allied with Hogwarts making it an easier target.

Still- why children? The Dark Lord had no sizable enemies from the French school. 

Maybe it wasn’t about the enemies. Maybe it was about the children. 

Maybe he was trying to send a message. Regulus unconsciously rubs his shoulder, a habit he’s never been able to shake. It aches, sometimes. Still. 

“-egulus?”

Regulus straightens. He’s missed whatever Lupin has just said. 

“Do you… um. Do you know anything about what’s happening?”

“Why would I?” 

“Because you’re a fucking death eater, Reg.” Sirius crosses his arms. 

Regulus wants to punch and kick and scratch the door down. Anything to get out of here. Away from these people. He wants to go back to the Chamber. 

He reaches down and yanks up his left sleeve, holding up his bare forearm for them both to see. He notices Sirius’s eyes don’t leave the pure skin even after he drops it. 

“I don’t know a thing.” This seems to be enough for Lupin, who nods and sits back. Sirius, not so much. He leans forward, glancing between the two of them.

“But you do know something, Reg. You might’ve cursed Moony over here, but you can still tell me what happened.” His expression’s triumphant, slightly mocking. Regulus was beginning to wonder when he’d bring that up.  

Regulus considers the way Lupin’s jaw tightens. 

So that's what happened, he thinks. They’ve fought because Lupin couldn’t (didn’t?) tell Sirius about his and Regulus’s library encounter. Despite himself, a small flame of satisfaction and gratitude for Remus Lupin ignites in Regulus’s chest. 

“I cursed him for a reason.” His eyes flick to Remus only slightly apologetically. Remus waves it off. 

“So you won’t tell me.”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Coward.”

Regulus ignores him. 

The time passes slowly. Regulus keeps his eyes closed as much as possible. It’s the closest he's been to Sirius, physical proximity wise, in almost a year. He shivers with… something. Repressed emotions, maybe. 

After a while, he tunes into the quiet, hissed conversation between Sirius and Lupin. He wonders how much of it he’s missed. He really needs to work on listening better. 

“You could’ve told me. Or tried to.”

“Sirius, sometimes I need you to trust me. Some things are personal. Some things I can’t tell you.” 

“But-”

“Sirius.” 

Regulus keeps his eyes closed. Maybe they’ll shut up. Do they think he’s asleep? 

“Moons, I’m fine with you keeping secrets. You don’t tell me things! Hell, I have secrets. James definitely has secrets. Probably. It's just… with him?” 

Regulus doesn’t have to look to know Sirius is nodding in his direction. He opens one eye. “If it helps, we aren't mates. We don’t even like each other.” 

Remus puts a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Speak for yourself! And here I thought we were getting somewhere.” 

Regulus smirks and closes his eyes again. 

Sirius does not like this. “Remus, please- I just- I want to know what happened.”

“And I told you, no. Respect my trust enough to not ask again.” 

“Why don’t you respect all the things I’ve told you about my family enough to not go running around with my death eater brother?” 

And, well, rather pathetically, the word ‘brother’ settles in Regulus' stomach, nestling its way in. He wants to vomit it up. 

“He’s just shown us, he’s not a death eat-”

Sirius shoots to his feet. Regulus flinches slightly, straightening. Sirius is fuming. 

“You’re making excuses for him? You want to tell me that you know him better than I do? You weren't there, Remus.” He points at Regulus. “You don’t get to tell me he’s not a fucking blood supremacist piece of shit, because you don’t know.” 

Remus stands up too, and Regulus raises himself a bit off the ground, ready. He can feel his wand in his pocket. He resists the urge to at least put a hand on it. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius. I really am. But what you’re asking of me isn’t fair.” Remus looks angry now too, and a little sad. “I honestly don’t even know what you’re asking- or why. I can’t tell you. Physically. Regulus made sure of that. Why isn’t that the end of it?”

“Because you didn’t even try, Remus.”

“I didn’t want to.” Remus spits. “I have secrets, so do you, so does he. We’ve covered this. Let it go.” 

Sirius opens his mouth to respond, but before he can the door gives a click then swings open. Regulus is on his feet in an instant, leaving them behind.

“Not gonna stay and finish this, Reg?” Sirius’ voice is cutting. Regulus pauses on the threshold. He doesn’t trust himself not to do something rash if Sirius calls him a coward again. 

On a whim, he turns and shuts the door again, trapping them inside. He pulls out his wand and mutters a locking charm, one not easily undone. Maybe it’ll be good for them. He can hear Sirius banging on the door from the outside. 

It’ll wear off in an hour or two and Regulus has things to do. 

---

 

He finds Evan back in the dorm, hunched over his desk scribbling a letter. Regulus slumps down in a chair next to him. Evan glances up. 

“Hey. You’re the first one back. I assume you heard that classes are canceled for the rest of the day.”

Regulus nods. “What’re you doing?”

Evan grimaces. “Writing home. I know mum will freak out about this. Dad’s fully committed to everything the Dark Lord does but I’m pretty sure she secretly has her doubts. She’ll hate that we had to go on a full-on lockdown.” 

“She has her doubts? What do you mean?”

Evan frowns slightly. “She just… is always trying to make sure I'm ok. She doesn’t like me getting too close to all the action. She nearly took my dads head off that one time he tried to bring me to a meeting.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” 

“I mean.” Evan looks suddenly nervous. “It is a little dangerous. It’s normal for her to have… doubts, right?” He looks up at Regulus, and for a second, something seems to tip, balancing on an edge. 

It’s just them, Regulus realizes. No Barty, or Mulciber, or Snape. It’s just him and Evan. He nods. “Yeah.” His voice stays even. “It is.”

Then it’s over, and they both seem to remember that those thoughts, however truthful they might be, have no place there. They can’t. 

Regulus turns away, stares at the ceiling. A second later he hears Evan continue to scratch away at his letter.

“So, where’d you get stuck?” He breaks the silence. 

“Charms classroom with a bunch of kids. Barty was there. Literally couldn’t tell you a single other person’s name.” 

“That’s not the worst.”

“No, definitely not. What about you?”

Regulus sighs. “Lupin. Broomcloset.” 

Evan whistles under his breath. ”The whole time?”

Regulus sends him a look. “And my brother.”

“Oh shit.”

Regulus nods. They stay silent.

“What- um. What do you think it means? Attacking Beauxbatons like that? Did you get any warning? Cause I heard nothing.” 

Regulus rubs his eyes. “Me neither. I’m not sure.” 

Just then, the door bursts open and Barty and Dorcas flood through, arguing loudly. Evan gets up to calm them down, and Regulus sighs. He grabs his wand and cloak and heads out, turning to call some excuse about going to the kitchens. 

 

--- 

On his way to the Chamber, he manages to navigate through the crowd of students actually rushing to the kitchens, having missed lunch. 

Once he gets through and makes it to the second floor, everything seems to quiet down. There aren’t as many kids here. He rounds the corner towards the bathroom and nearly runs headlong into Potter. 

“Regulus!” James comes to a halting stop, staring at him. “Where are you going?”

Regulus glares at him. Fuck his life, really. “None of your business?”

James’ face cracks into a grin. It's infuriating. “I was gonna go find Sirius and Moony, actually. They’ve been in the same closet since the lock down. Which, you know, normally I’d support, but I’ve gotten kind of worried.”

Regulus frowns. “How do you know they’re there?” 

James raises a brow. “I have my ways. Also noticed you were in there with them the whole time. You don’t have anything to do with the fact that they’re still there, do you?” 

Regulus keeps his face expressionless. James shakes his head. “Honestly can’t really blame you, having to be stuck in there with those two for that long sounds rough.”

“You can’t imagine.” 

James looks him over. “Your bruise… you couldn’t heal it?” 

Regulus glares. “No.” 

“Nothing worked? Spells, dittany, anything?”

“Obviously not.” 

James suddenly looks suspicious. “Wait- where are you going? Actually? Because that’s the direction you came from yesterday and-”

“Potter. It’s none of your business. Leave me alone.”

“But-”

“Potter.”

“Fine.” James relents. “Also- I thought I should apologize for the other night in the astronomy tower. I was pissed and it was late and I was more angry than I should’ve been. I shouldn’t have yelled before you explained the situation.”

Regulus furrows his brow, confused. “But I didn’t. Explain the situation, that is.”

James looks hopeful. “There’s still time.” 

Regulus just shakes his head. “Go find Lupin and Sirius, Potter. Pretty sure they’re talking about the same thing.”

James groans. “..and they have been for days. Merlin. If they’re still fighting I swear to Godrick…” 

Regulus roles his eyes. “Good luck.” And then he pushes past James, continuing on his way. Once he rounds the next corner he waits to make sure James isn’t following him, then slips into the bathroom and locks the door.

Notes:

"I smell the sun on you" The basilisk is #1 jegulus shipper confirmed
Idk guys please let me know what you think

Chapter 8: Flooded

Notes:

enjoy

 

There’s something uninteresting about James’s toast. His pumpkin juice is just plain boring. The only thing that interests him is the boy a few tables away, curls falling into his eyes as he eats quietly. James can’t take his eyes away. 

He noticed it almost immediately. As soon as he entered the great hall. The bruise on Regulus’s cheek had gone, disappeared and given way to clear skin. There wasn’t even any residual redness from a healing spell. It was just- gone. Which was odd, because Regulus had explicitly said he was unable to heal it. Regulus was limping just a bit. James focused on that. The slight discrepancy in his step. It meant that the other day was real, that it’d actually happened, that Regulus Black had collapsed in front of him, bruised and bleeding. That James had helped.

Guilt curls around his stomach when across from him, Sirius laughs at something Peter had said. James knows he should tell him, especially since that was the route cause of his and Remus’ fight. About the broom closet, about the meeting yesterday in the hallway. He doesn’t. 

When Regulus had sat down, he’d met James’ eyes. Just for a moment. Fleeting. But it’s enough- because for a second, Regulus’s skin… flickers. Like an illusion, there one second gone the next. Back again in a blink. A flash of a bruise, diminished but still dark. High on his cheekbone. Then it’s gone and James is left staring, utterly confused. 

What the fuck?

Had he glamoured his face? Was it a spell? James has never seen anything like that, and he isn’t even sure what that is. 

Remus elbows him, and James snaps his head around. He takes a swig of his entirely too boring pumpkin juice, and tries to clear his mind. 

After he’d gotten Sirius and Remus out of that closet, (which had been hard, because unfortunately Regulus was really good at locking spells) things had been frosty, but better. They’d talked? Or something? James didn’t want to risk opening old wounds by bringing it up to ask. 

But here they were, talking and laughing like normal. Everytime Sirius and Remus fought it was like the friend group would dissipate for a few days, giving them time. After every reconciliation, they would come back together as a whole. James looked them over with pride. Mary was talking to Marlene next to Sirius, and Lily was tucked in next to Remus.

Lily. 

The girl he’s been in love with for 6 years. Every time he sees her she seems to tear through his chest, leaving a fiery wake of destruction behind. 

It's different this year, though. He’s decided to take a step back. He’s made an arse of himself too many times to count. When he stopped and thought about it, it was no wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t either, if he was her. Honestly- who would? So he was taking a breath. Backing away. That’s what he told his friends, anyway. 

Inwardly, he's trying his best to begin to let her go. It isn't like he doesn't still have feelings for her; he doubts he'll ever feel nothing when it comes to Lily Evans. Feelings too big to name. But he can see it in the way she looked at him, the way her eyes watch him when he speaks. She wasn’t indifferent like he’d thought, she was platonic. Purely and unmistakingly. There was no bad blood- but that was the extent of their friendship. So he's just… letting her go. 

As best he can. 

When the post comes James’s letter drops into his eggs, startling him from his thoughts. He grabs it, using a fork to pick off little bits of yolk. It’s from his mother- her loopy script is always perfectly centered on the page. Sirius glances over. He frowns in indignation.

“She didn’t send me one! She always sends ours together.” He leans across the table.

James snickers and yanks the letter away. “Too bad.” He’d let Sirius read it later. 

James unfolds it carefully, flicking another piece of yolk off the seal. He begins to read, and his world starts to fall apart. 

He goes numb, dropping the letter. He hasn’t finished it, but he doesn’t need to. Someone’s flooded the great hall, he realizes. They must’ve. Everything’s underwater. Moving slowly. He can’t hear his friends. He can’t hear his breath. 

He picks up the letter, folds it. Shoves it in a pocket. Stands, without shaking. Smiles at Sirius. James says something, but he’s not sure what. Sirius responds, but he’s underwater. James can’t hear him. So he leaves, and it feels like he’s wading through the ocean. Deeper, deeper. The letter in his pocket keeps him weighed down. The doors open, and he slips into the hall. 

Breaking free of the tide, he begins to run. 

 

---

 

They can’t find James for the rest of the day.

 

---

 

Regulus has made it a habit to visit the chamber everyday. Or- he’s tried. It’s hard, to find time. 

He has a plan now, though. He knows what he’s going to do, how to get the fangs. It’s just… going to take some time. 

He’s explored the chamber a bit. The upper levels, at least. The ones he can reach without getting too close to the Basilisk. He likes the top of Salazar’s head the best, just because its flat and wide. He hasn’t even attempted to go into the statue's mouth, just because he knows that would be the Basilisk’s last straw. 

For the most part, he stays on the head. It’s where he is now- slightly bored and incredibly tired. Maybe he should’ve brought his homework. 

The voice, the Basilisk hisses. What did it say? What did it mean?

Regulus cocks his head. The voice?  

Loud. Repeating. 

Ah. That voice. Lockdown. The Dark Lord attacked another school. 

The Dark Lord. The Basilisk went quiet for a minute. The Dark Lord?

Merlin. How long had the snake been down there? Lord… Lord Voldemort. Regulus supplies, uncomfortable with the name. 

Voldemort. Another pause. Who ? 

Regulus sighs, then spends the next hour giving the snake a bit of a history lesson. 

 

---

 

That night, Regulus slips out to get some quiet practice on the quidditch pitch. The moon is the only light around, casting everything in a silvery glow. The only sound is a far away cricket. Everything is peaceful.

He does a few laps on his broom, gliding through the cool air. The breeze on his face and hair quiets his mind. It always has. Flying and the violin- the only two things that can truly calm him down. When he’s slightly out of breath and adequately tired, he lowers himself to the ground. 

That's when he notices he’s got company. He straightens instantly. Drops his broom. 

“Are you watching me, Potter?”

James shrugs. His eyes never leave Regulus. He’s not smiling- which is odd. 

“Why are you here?”

“Maybe I wanted to practice. Maybe I wanted to talk to you.” James tips his head. Regulus shoves down the flush in his cheeks, thanking Merlin it was dark. 

“Potter, it’s cold out. And past curfew.”

“I know.” James’ brows furrow. “Your cheek-”

Instinctually Regulus puts up his hand. Shit. Was it slipping? He’s normally better about this. He’s normally better at controlling it. He needs to focus. 

“This morning at breakfast… it, like, flickered. I thought you couldn’t heal it. Did you glamour it?”

Regulus’s breath catches in his throat. James was watching him at breakfast? That’s besides the point- can he still save this? Regulus sighs. It’s too late. “Something like that. A personal spin on a disillusionment charm.” It’s how he’s been hiding it these past few days from his friends and the general public. 

“But in the hallway yesterday- it was there.” 

Regulus shrugs. “It wasn’t worth the energy to keep the shield up. You already knew about it.” 

“You modified it? The spell?”

Regulus nods. 

“Why did it flicker?” James shivers slightly in the cold. Regulus can’t see his face. 

“I need to… focus. If I want the charm to stay up. And I haven't had to use it in a while, so I’m just starting to get back into-”

“In a while? You’ve done this before?”

Regulus doesn’t respond. He crosses his arms. Waits for James to get it. James makes a small sound in the back of his throat. “Your mother. Merlin- one day I’m gonna-”

“What, Potter? What are you going to do?” 

“That woman belongs in Azkaban.” James’ voice is cold. 

And, well- Regulus can’t argue with that.

“How much do you- I mean. How often do you need to use it? Why not just heal the cuts and stuff? That’s… um. That’s what Sirius did.”

This conversation is making something uncomfortable twist in Regulus’s stomach. He wants to push it away from him, dig himself a hole and crawl into it. “I… not that much.” Lie. “Just after a break, or over the summer or… anyway. She learned how to leave marks that didn’t heal. After Sirius, I mean. She adapted. So did I.” He shrugs. 

James is watching him. Regulus can feel it. He doesn’t like it. He changes the subject. 

“Our match isn’t for another two weeks. You don’t need to be practicing. Why are you actually out here?”

“Like I said, I just wanted to talk. We’re gonna destroy you, by the way.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m sure you won’t.”

“You don’t stand a chance.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Despite the light teasing, which is usually James’ forte, there’s something twisted in his expression. Something dark, just under his skin. Regulus finds himself curious.

“We know your strategies. We know your individual weaknesses. What did you want to talk about? Surely more than quidditch.”

“True Slytherins. See, us Gryffindors, we’re planning on defeating you with the power of friendship.” James’ words are sunny yet his face is anything but. He’s staring at his feet now, eyes hard. 

“How nobel. Potter, what-”

“My dad’s sick.”

Oh. 

Oh. That… wasn’t what Regulus was expecting. “I'm sorry.”

James glances up at the apology. He tries for a smile but his voice shakes. “Wow. Did Regulus Black really just show a shred of empathy?”

“James.” 

The smile slips off James’ face at his first name. He takes a shuddering breath. Regulus’s heart twists. He needs to remind himself that he despises this boy. “How long… is it… I mean…”

“He’s got a few months. It’ll be slow.”

Fuck it. He’ll remind himself later.

The breath punches out of Regulus and it’s a few seconds before he speaks again. “Have you told Sirius?”

James shakes his head. “Just got the letter this morning. It was addressed to me, which is odd because Mum always sends me and Sirius’s letters together-” (Regulus tries to ignore how quickly those words slice into his heart) “And he didn’t get one. He would’ve, I think, if she wanted him to know immediately. So I didn’t tell Sirius. Or Pete. Or Remus. Or… anyone. I know I’m an awful person.”  

“Who have you told?” 

“You.”

And. Wow. 

“Just me?” Regulus crinkles his nose. “Why?”

“Because. I don’t know. I just- I can’t deal with them right now.” James’ voice cracks. There are tears in his eyes, glinting in the moonlight. “I thought you could tell me how to make it better.” 

Regulus takes a step forward. None of James’ words are making sense, a jumbled heap of thoughtless spirals. Regulus doesn’t know how to deal with this. “Potter, I… well. I’m sorry, I guess. About your dad. I don’t know how to help you, or what can help. This is- this is Sirius’s job. It should be. I think.”

“I can’t tell him yet. Please,” The tears in James’ eyes spill onto his cheeks when he looks up at Regulus. “You deal with pain so well, I’ve seen it-”

“I’m more practiced with pain then you, Potter. This isn’t something you can shove down.” 

“Like you hide behind your glamour spells?” There’s a bite to James’ words, but Regulus lets them roll over him. Now isn’t the time. 

“I do that because I have to. You have friends, I mean, good ones, that can support you. They can help you through this. I- I can't." 

“You’re right. I don’t know why I’m here.” James turns, staring at his feet. Regulus takes a step forward.

“Wait-”

James pauses. Turns back. 

“What’s he sick with?”

“Dragon Pox. They think he got it on a mission or something.” 

Dragon Pox is incurable and painful and incredibly contagious. James wouldn’t even be allowed to visit. “And your mum?” Regulus braces himself for bad news. 

James just shakes his head. “No, she was visiting a family friend in Wales. She’s still there. She’s fine. He’s um. He’s alone.” Suddenly, he starts crying again, sinking into a squat right there on the quidditch pitch. Regulus stares at him, taking a step forward. He wants to do... something. Run away, potentially. Make him stop crying. It’s so desperately hard to hate him when he looks like that. And he really, really, wants to hate him. 

“Potter. I… you can’t have come here genuinely thinking I could make you feel better. I mean…me?”

The breeze picks up, and the trees begin to sway. 

James doesn’t look at him, trying and failing to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I do have an actual reason.” 

Regulus stands over him. “What’s that?”

When James does look up, there’s fire in his eyes. Danger.  “I need you to find a cure for Dragon Pox.” 

Notes:

In all these Jegulus fics its always Regulus struggling emotionally and James being there for him. So I thought, why not switch it up a bit? Make them BOTH struggle

Chapter 9: Bad Idea

“What?”

Regulus looks far too confused for James' taste. It's a simple request, really. Maybe not as simple to fulfill, but still he thinks he worded it clearly enough. Maybe he should try again. 

“I need you to find a cure for dragon pox.” 

And now Regulus is just staring at him with that indiscernible look of his. “I can’t do that.”

James frowns. “Can’t you try?” He’s doing his best to keep it together. He can feel more tears, somehow, hesitating behind his lashes. 

The news this morning hit him in the chest, sluggish and ugly and cloying. He's been trying to push past it, to breathe through it, all day. It isn’t working. 

The first thing he did was run to Mcgonagall, practically on his knees begging her to let him visit his father. He’d desperately pleaded with her as she’d sat there and waited for him to calm down. When she could get a word in, she’d told him it was too dangerous. He wouldn’t be able to visit until his father was appropriately confined. He’d left after that. 

Next he went to the owlery, where he sent out a reply to his mother’s letter. He asked where his father was now, where she was going to say, if there was any hope at all. He didn’t ask why she hadn’t told Sirius. 

And then… he’d disappeared. He’d fled into the woods and spent the day as a stag, enjoying the way his anigmi form muted his emotions. They weren't gone, not completely, they were just- softer. Easier to handle. 

When he’d returned from the woods, he’d known what he was going to do. He had a plan. He’d fished out his map and cloak and slipped off to find Regulus Black. 

Here, on the quidditch pitch, Regulus sinks down in front of him. He’s studying James carefully. “Not to sound like a broken record, but why me?”

It’s James’ turn to be confused. Why him? Who else? “You’re the best at potions in your year, and actually-  probably the whole school. I’m thinking if we combine my excellent research abilities and your potionering skills we can figure something out.”

“And why us, Potter?” (James really wishes Regulus would just use his first name.) “Why would we, two students, be able to produce a cure to a disease that has stumped all of the world's experts?”

Something wells up and breaks inside James, and another tear trails down his cheek. He really fucking wants to stop crying. “Because we have to, Reg. What else is there? I can’t just- just wait it out. I have to do something. I have to fix this.” 

“Get Evans, or Lupin, or… someone else.”

“You think I want it to be you? They aren't as good. Plain and simple. Please, Regulus. Humor me. Just try.”

Regulus stands up and starts pacing. He’s rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly. “You can’t ask this of me, Potter. You have no idea-”

“All I know is my father is dying. I know that I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

“What makes you think I’d agree to it? What's in it for me?”

“He’s Sirius’s father too.”

Regulus stops and turns to him, glaring again. He’s so… sharp. James misses the pity in his eyes moments earlier. “He is not Sirius’s father. Orion-”

“You said it yourself, Reg. He’s not their son. He’s Fleamont and Effie’s son. And now we need to save my-  our- father.”

“So why aren't you telling him his father is sick?”

Maybe that’s a fair point. Maybe James is simply the worst person ever. But he just doesn’t have the energy required to help Sirius through this. Hell, he’s struggling to get through it himself. He loves Sirius. He’ll always be there for him, always. But right now, with this, James needs a second to breathe. He needs to get his own emotions under control before he begins to deal with Sirius’s.

It's a weak excuse, but it’s the one he clings to.

“I… can’t. Not right now. I need more time. You need to give me, give him, more time.” 

Regulus stops pacing and stares at him. James can’t read his expression. 

“Reg, please.” James stands up too.

“I… I can’t…” But there’s a hesitation there.

“So don’t do it for me. Don’t do it for Sirius. Do it for all the innocent people you’ve killed.”

He sees the words hit Regulus like a bullet, sending him stumbling back. He watches the way his eyes widen, the quickening of his breath. Maybe that was a mistake. “... excuse me?”

“Not you specifically. Your family. Your side. Voldemort.” 

Regulus blinks a few times at him, taking deep breaths. “My side.”

“Yeah. I mean like… all those attacks? All those muggles? Even the other day, those ten muggles on that street corner, I saw how upset they made you-”

“Stop.” Regulus turns around, not facing him. James takes a step closer to him. He can’t see his face. 

“There has to be something, Regulus. I need there to be something. I can’t just watch him… I mean.” He tries to put as much as he can into the words. All his desperation into a few sentences. “Save someone, for once. Instead of hurting them. Just one person. Save one person.”

The pitch is silent, save the rustle of the fabric on the stands. The world holds its breath.

When Regulus speaks, his voice cracks slightly. “I can’t promise it’ll work.”

And, oh. How those words crash into him, relief and hope flooding through him till he’s choking on it. It’s a lifeline- it feels like salvation.

It’s right then and there that James decides he’ll never be able to actually hate Regulus. Not even a little bit. Not now. Not after this. 

James’s breath punches out of him and he instinctively clutches his chest. “You’ll do it?”

“I may be good at potions, but not that good. Dragon Pox is incurable. It always will be.”

“But-”

“But I’ll try.” 

And James wants to cry again, and hug him, or thank him, or… something. He’s not sure yet.

“Thank you. Thank you. I mean- wow. I didn’t think you’d agree.” He feels sick to his stomach with relief, doubling over a bit. He might be going a bit overboard, but right now he doesn’t care. 

Regulus frowns. “Me neither.” 

“Do you have any ideas? When can we start? What should I look into first?” 

“Potter- I need you to know. This isn’t going to work. It’s not. You need to understand that. Also, I still hate you. This changes nothing.” It changes everything, James wants to scream. He keeps it in. 

“I don’t care.” 

Regulus sighs. “Of course you don’t.”  

“So, again, when can we start?”

Regulus starts pacing again. “We need a room, or a place for a potions lab. We’ll need to work on it during the school year, so that rules out my basement back at Grimmauld- '' He cuts himself off with a look at James, but continues. “We need to figure out why it’s incurable first. And what cures people have tried that’ve failed. It’s going to be a lot of research.” 

He has a gleam in his eye, and James finds himself unable to look away. 

“As far as the potions go- we need materials, supplies. I’m sure we can manage, Slughorn’s practically wrapped around my finger. Maybe some variation of a Pepperup potion, but that’s not nearly strong enough and Bicorn horn is nearly impossible to find in large quantities…” As Regulus talks, his cheek begins to flicker again. After a second, the glamour drops, and James can see the bruise in the moonlight. Regulus glances up, seeming to remember that James is watching him. He looks away, flushing slightly. “Sorry. For rambling.”

“Don’t even think about it.” James is grinning. “Sounds like you know where to start. I’ll go to the library as soon as possible, maybe even tonight-”

“No.” Regulus’s voice is not as sharp as it should be. “You need sleep. I mean- I- if you want to be helpful you need a functioning brain. Well, as functioning as your brain can get. And I’m sure you’re exhausted after… today. Go to bed, Potter. We’ll talk later.”

“Tomorrow?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow.”

James smiles. “Good night Reg.”

“Regulus.”

“Reg.” James corrects, turning to go. Before he can, Regulus calls his name. 

“Potter- don’t tell Sirius I’m helping you with this. I- If, or when, this doesn't work- he’ll blame me. And I know I hate him. I know… but. I don't- just please, don’t tell him.”

James considers, staring at Regulus. He should tell Sirius. He knows he should. He should be a good best friend. A good brother. But the way Regulus is looking at him, a tiny bit of genuine fear peaking through his perfect mask, James decides he can wait. He’ll do anything to keep Regulus on his side. To save his father. And honestly- it’s not like he has much of a choice. If he disagrees, he has no doubt Regulus will just curse him like he cursed Remus. 

So he nods, just once. Immediately more guilt pools in his stomach, but he brushes it off. He’ll deal with it later.

For the first time all day, he has hope. 

 

---

 

When James makes it back to the common room that night, he’s greeted by the sight of all three marauders waiting for him. Sirius is seated cross legged on his bunk, hands fiddling nervously. Peter is laying across his bed, on arm thrown up over his eyes. Remus is reading, leaning up against his trunk. They all shoot to their feet as soon as James enters.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Remus asks at the same time as Sirius throws himself at James, wrapping him in a hug. “You just disappeared for an entire day- took the map too so we couldn’t bloody check-”

James laughs. “Moony, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I had to visit Mcgonagall after breakfast about a class shift, and then I kind of got lost in the forbidden forest.”

“Why were you in the forest?” Peter crosses his arms. 

“Kettleburn assigned me this stupid thing on mushrooms- it's like 3 pages long. Apparently it’s because I turned in the last assignment late, the one on pixies. Anyway, I decided I should use a weekend to do it because going into the forest after dark does not sound fun. I should’ve let you guys know. It totally slipped my mind.” 

James has always been a good liar. People often suspect the opposite when it comes to him: he’s so charming and open they lower their defenses. But the ease in which a perfectly crafted little piece of fiction slips off his tongue is sometimes a little alarming, even to him. 

And people trust him. They always do. 

Which is why, although a little suspiciously, Sirius, Remus and Peter all nod and eventually go back to their beds. 

James goes to wash his face and brush his teeth, thoughts swirling like the water in the sink. 

Regulus had agreed. Which- thank fuck . James didn’t have a backup plan. He’d meant it when he’d said that he wished he didn’t have to ask him. Secretly conspiring with his best friend's little brother behind his back didn’t look good, and anyway. James was supposed to hate Regulus. 

He shakes his head. No. He’s done with that. He’d already decided, back on the Quidditch Pitch. He doesn’t hate him. Hates what he stands for, maybe. Hates his family. But Regulus? After tonight especially- James definitely does not hate Regulus. 

The letter is still in his pocket. He can feel its outline against his skin. He wants to rip it apart, burn it, incinerate it. 

He’s blocking that part out, though. That negativity. He’s done what he does best- devoted himself entirely to hope. Regulus told him to be realistic, but it’s far too late for that. James is in this now. Fully. 

His father would live because James and Regulus would make sure of it. They had to.

Still, even after he rinses under the tap, washes his face and crawls into bed, James just can’t seem to fall asleep. 

 

---

 

Regulus lays in bed, wide awake. He’s made a mistake. Shit, shit, shit , he’s made a mistake. He fucked up, royally.

What was he thinking? Curing Dragon Pox? The wizarding world’s only incurable disease? Not a chance. And for Fleamont Potter? A prominent member of the Sacred 28’s rival house? Regulus rolls over and groans into his pillow. 

And lest he forget- he’s just signed himself up to spend a large amount of time alone with James fucking Potter. 

And his stupid fucking smile. 

Shit , he mutters out loud. At first he thinks it was French before he realizes it was parseltongue. He mentally berates himself. He’s been spending too much time with that stupid snake. 

As much as he tries to regret his decision; he can already feel the gears in his mind turning, ingredients and reactions and modifications swarming him. He can think of a few things he’d like to try, more than a few, and maybe…

He rolls out of bed, moving to his desk to grab his journal and quill. He casts lumos and sets his wand sticking up in the quill holder, a makeshift lamp. He starts to scribble, losing himself to potions. He’s not good at healing remedies. The potions he has to make are a lot less… kind. He doesn’t know much beyond your basic Pepperup potion, but that was for the common cold. This would have to be a bit more serious. 

Suddenly, someone’s standing over him from behind. Regulus flinches and whips around to see Barty cocking a brow at him. Regulus shuts his journal.

“You’re up late.” Barty’s tone isn’t accusatory.

“Finishing up charms homework.” 

“Right.” Barty flops down on Regulus’ bed behind them. “Did you hear? The Dark Lord is calling a huge meeting over christmas break. Everyone’s going- even me and Evan.”

Regulus has, in fact, heard. He received a letter from his parents last sunday, reminding him to make considerable progress with the Basilisk so he could bring back good news to the Dark Lord. He’s not excited.

“I mean, you go to these things all the time, right Reg? What should I know? Is it interesting? I imagine it can be quite boring.” Barty is whispering, albeit poorly. 

It wasn’t boring. It could never be boring. It was terrifying. Regulus doesn’t say that, though. He’s pretty sure the Dark Lord’s snake can sense fear, and he doesn’t want Barty’s hand bitten off 5 minutes into his first meeting. “Do not speak. Not unless you are spoken to, which I imagine you won’t be. Don’t look the Dark Lord in the eyes, unless he addresses you directly. Even then, be cautious.” Regulus turns around in his chair to face Barty, because he needs him to understand this. “Do not be brave, Barty. Do not be bold.”

Barty’s face twists slightly. “Do I look like a bloody Gryffindor to you?”

Regulus just shakes his head and turns back around. He should probably tell Barty and Evan about the Basilisk. Merlin, they don’t even know he’s a parselmouth. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. They’d find out at the meeting. 

“Oh. The Dark Lord’s snake. Don’t look her in the eye either.”

He hears Barty scoff. “No snake. Got it.” He most definitely didn’t get it. 

Regulus just closes his eyes and sighs. 

 

---

 

What are you doing? I hear writing. The Basilisk was curled on the floor of the chamber, large head resting on its tail. 

I’m just thinking, Regulus says, jotting down another note about Jewelweed in his journal. He’d successfully avoided James the whole day. Which he should probably feel bad about, but definitely doesn’t. 

About the sun? 

No. Stop it with that. About potions. 

You brew potions?

…Yes. Regulus flips the page in his journal. He’d long ago stopped leaving items of clothing around the chamber. The Basilisk had learned his scent thoroughly. 

My master-

Regulus snaps the journal shut, glaring at the snake. Salazar? Merlin, you can just say his name, you know. He’s dead. 

My master liked potions. 

Regulus softens slightly. Did he brew them down here? 

So yes, maybe Regulus had considered making a potions lab in the chamber. It had been quickly ruled out, for a number of glaringly obvious reasons.

The Basilisk doesn’t respond, forked tongue flickering quickly. Regulus tries again.

When did you first meet your master?

At birth. In this chamber. So Slytherin had created this monster. 

Ah. Right. What- erm. What happened to him? 

He… left. He used to visit me, often. And then he- didn’t. 

That must’ve been when the 3 other founders forced him to leave. Regulus frowns, opening the journal again and doodling a small snake in the corner of the page. Was he kind? What was he asking? Was Slytherin kind? Of course not. 

But the snake just hisses softly. To me. 

Regulus nods before he remembers the Basilisk can’t see him. Did he say anything to you before he went?

Why so many questions, Little Prince?

Just wondering.

He told me one day my purpose would be fulfilled. I’d rid the school of filth. 

Mudbloods. 

The Basilisk doesn’t even flinch. Yes. 

You were born in this chamber? Have you been nowhere else?

Once, I went up. In the pipes. After another set me loose.

Regulus sits fully up, staring at the snake. This feels critical. Voldemort?

I don’t know a Voldemort. Oh, right. Regulus had taught the snake about him just the other day. 

Who, then? 

He called himself Tom Riddle. 

Regulus didn’t know that name. Another Heir of Slytherin, maybe? What happened? 

I only killed once. One girl. The boy was not happy with me. He wanted more. The Basilisk turns its head, and Regulus' stomach sinks at the thick lacerations, long ago scared over, set deep on the Basilisks' dark cheek. 

Regulus says nothing, staring for a moment. After a second, the Basilisk lets its head rest again. 

When Slytherin was forced out, did he- 

But before he can finish, the Basilisk surges up quickly, lunging at him with it’s wide mouth open. Regulus has time only to throw himself against the back wall. The snake snaps its jaw shut inches from his face, hissing.

My master was not forced to leave. He could never be forced to do anything. He left because they all turned against him, spineless pigs- The Basilisk slowly retreats, lowering itself back down to the chamber floor. Calming itself down. I may not be able to kill you, Little Prince, but I can still make you hurt. I have before. I will again. Do not insult my master. 

Regulus tries to take deep breaths, hands still clenched and shaking. He shuts his eyes briefly, his heart still pounding. 

I’m sorry. Regulus is willing to forgo his pride if he needs to.

When Regulus finally clambers out of the shaft that night and tries to head back to his room, he doesn’t get very far.

James finds him first.

Notes:

Also- it's intentional that we get James's pov when regulus agrees to help him. I'm trying to save the reveal of why he decided to help until a bit later (it's not what was implied)

p.s. you can pry italics from my cold dead hands

Chapter 10: Another Door

Summary:

Regulus and James make progress. Regulus and Sirius don't.

Regulus is staring at his feet, seemingly lost in thought. He’s managing to walk in a straight line, but he doesn’t seem very aware of his surroundings. He’s uncharacteristically dazed. James stops moving, waiting. Just as he thought- Regulus runs straight into him. He looks up sharply then relaxes a bit when he sees who it is. 

James raises a brow. “Still avoiding me?”

Regulus huffs. “Not avoiding you, Potter. Not everything’s about you.”

“Mm, sure seems like it though. You haven’t looked in my direction all day, and I swear to god you didn’t even go to any meals.”

Regulus frowns slightly, but doesn’t comment. James sighs. “We need to go to the library. To start researching.”

“You haven’t already been? I assumed-”

“Oh, no, I have. I’ve been there all day. But I want to talk about what I’ve learned, and we don’t have a lab yet. So, library.” He starts walking again, and after a second, Regulus falls into step next to him. Neither of them speak. James clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“...How was your day?”

James doesn’t have to look to know Regulus is rolling his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. How was your day, Reg? If we’re gonna work together, we might as well get past the pleasantries.”

“I… you… my day was fine, Potter.” 

James waits. Regulus says nothing. James leans down a bit. “Aren't you gonna ask how my day was?”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s polite.”

Regulus smirks. “I don’t feel the need to be polite to you.” 

They round the corner. 

“Have you um… been thinking about it?” James shuffles nervously.

“About Dragon Pox? Yes. We need a lab. I need to… I need to test some ideas.”

James nods. “And there’s no way we can just use the one in the dungeons? Or maybe we can take some of that equipment and relocate it?” They start to climb the stairs. 

Regulus shakes his head. “No. They’ll notice it's missing. We don’t have anywhere to relocate it to.”

James glances down at him, then stops walking. Regulus stops too, giving him a confused look. “What?”

James frowns. “You’re hiding your cheek. I mean, unless the bruise faded, you still have the glamor up.” He doesn’t know why he cares, but he feels uncomfortable. He wants to know… what? If Regulus is ok? Surely not. “Can you just- not… do that around me?” 

Regulus furrows his brow. “What?”

“I mean- whatever you do with your skin. The disillusionment spell you were talking about. Can you just drop that when you’re around me? Please? I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t like not being able to tell… if… I don’t know. Just please don’t, alright?” It’s suddenly very important to him that Regulus agrees. 

Regulus stares at him for a moment, and then his skin flickers and the bruise reappears. Its sight shouldn’t be a comfort to James, but for some reason it is. He can trust what he’s looking at now. 

“Thanks,” he breathes out. 

Suddenly, the wall next to them shifts. Bricks pulling back, changing color and texture. James and Regulus stare at the space, confused. They both take a step back.

A door appears, dark and large, sunk into the wall. Neither of them say anything for a moment. 

“What…” Regulus trails off, staring. 

“I haven’t seen this before.” James walks up and places a hand on the door. It feels real enough. He turns back to Regulus. “Should we go in?”

“Definitely not.”

“Regulus, a door just appeared for us. I think we should go in.”

“I do not.” Regulus sends a suspicious look at the door. “We don’t know what's inside. Doors don’t just appear-”

“At Hogwarts they do.” James insists, taking a step toward Regulus. “Come on, Reg. It’ll be fine. Here.” Before he can chicken out he gently pulls the door open, revealing a large stone room. There are a few couches against one wall, some paintings hanging up above it. A large carpet stretches across the middle, and a bookcase filled with titles is planted firmly next to the door. In the middle of the room, a large potions lab spills out across a table. James hears Regulus take a quick breath behind him. 

“See?” James turns, fully grinning. “The castle knows what we need.” 

“How?” Regulus’s face is alight with wonder. James swallows, chest suddenly feeling tight at the sight. He looks away.

“I have no idea, genuinely. I haven’t seen this on the map-” Shit. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

“What map?”

“Nothing. Point is, why not just enjoy this gift? We can figure out it's secrets later.” James moves into the room, Regulus following him. James shut the door behind them.

Regulus immediately moves towards the potions table, running his fingers along the rim of the cauldron. He nods. “This'll do.”

“So, potions master, what should we try first? Do you want to hear about my research, or do you just want to jump right into brewing?”

Regulus is turned away from him, hand still on the cauldron. James moves forward slightly. “Reg?”

“I… um. Yeah. Yeah, we should… start.” 

James moves around the table so he can look Regulus in the face. “What’s the matter?”

Regulus closes his eyes briefly, and James can’t read the expression on his face. Oh god, what if he’s changed his mind? James might start crying again, and he really can’t have that. 

“Regulus, you’re really starting to freak me out-”

Regulus’s eyes snap open, and he sighs. “They’re absolutely going to kill me for this. But yes, let's start. What have you found?”

James blinks at him. “They’re going to kill you? For what- helping me? I mean- oh.” Of course- James was so stupid. Of course this wasn’t safe. Regulus was literally conspiring with a pureblood of a rival house to save Fleamont Potter’s life. This was the farthest thing from safe. James wants to slap himself. If the death eaters found out about this… hell, if Walburga or Orion found out about this…

“Reg,” James starts, but Regulus cuts him off with a wave.

“Potter, we don’t have time for this. If we don’t make it to dinner Dorcas will have my head. What did you learn?”

“I- um. Right. Yeah. So Dragon Pox attacks the body from the outside in, right? So first your skin turns all pockmarked and green, and then you lose muscle mass, and then you become weak as your internal organs start to break down…” James’s own stomach twists at his words. He can almost see his father, laying in bed asleep, green and hollow. Weak. Already in his head, Monty doesn’t look like the man James grew up with. 

“Potter?” James looked up to see Regulus watching him carefully. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, that’s the easy part. All of those things, physical ailments, those can be treated with magic. Muscles can be restored, organs repaired.”

“So why is it so incurable?” 

“Because once it gets through your organs, it’s not done. It, uh- it goes for your magic next. At first it just blocks it, but then once it starts attacking your magical core, there’s nothing that can be done. The only cases of survival have been minimal- and those that do turn out alive can never use magic again. Often they can’t even get themselves out of bed.” James puts down the empty vial he’s been fiddling with. “So we need to stop the disease before it gets there.”

Regulus nods, thinking. “Ok. So maybe something that puts up some sort of barrier between your magical core and the rest of your body?”

James shakes his head. All the books he’d been pouring over all day swim through his head, a waterfall of information. “That’s what the medics thought too. That’s the extent of our current cure. You get blocked. You can’t do anything magically, ever. And, not to mention, the rest of your body has already wasted away. You get stuck in a limbo state, not dead but not able to really live life either.” 

“But he’d live? Your father?”

James shakes his head again. “No, Reg, there has to be something else. My father’s too powerful a wizard to never use magic again. I won’t allow it.”

“When you say too powerful, you mean…”

“I mean he’s a key player in this war. Or at least I think he is. They won’t tell me anything.”

Regulus’s face twists. “Ah. That kind of powerful.”

James watches him. “What will they do? If they know you’re helping him?”

Regulus meets his eyes, emotionless. “I told you. They’d kill me.”

“Walburga and Orion wouldn’t let that happen,” James says. He’s partially trying to justify this to himself, he thinks. If Regulus gets hurt because of this… he can’t allow that.

“Do you really think that? After Sirius?”

At the name, James stands up a bit straighter. “That’s different.”

Regulus keeps his hands by his sides. “How?”

“Well, for one, they hated him. They found any and all excuses to punish him. I mean, I know you saw what happened. All those times. How close did he come to dying? I doubt they’d hesitate if Voldemort gave the order.” Something ticks in the back of his mind. Not right. 

Regulus' eyes flash for a moment. “Just Sirius?”

James is wary. “Sirius told me. I don’t blame you for doing what they tell you- not that I would do the same, but I understand at least. You’re the perfect child. They wouldn’t kill you, they can’t even hurt you. That’s what he says.” 

But. 

But that’s not the truth, is it?

Regulus practically told him, back on the astronomy tower. On the quidditch pitch. When he showed James his glamor, when he lowered his defenses. James knew. He’d known since they left him there that night. 

Of course they hurt him. What else?

Regulus turns away from him then, and James wishes he could see his face, just to know what’s going on.

“I don’t- that’s what Sirius told you?” He turns around again, looking up at James with narrowed eyes. “How does he think they treat me?”

“Reg- I. I don’t- um. He thinks they treat you, if nothing else, with indifference. Beyond your typical expectations, he says they don’t care much.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he thinks. 

Regulus laughs bitterly. James notices his hand at his side, shaking. As he watches, Regulus curls it into a tight fist. After a second the shaking stops. He wants to apologize for himself. For Sirius. For his parents. 

“We shouldn’t have gotten off track.”

James wants to stop him, to tell him it’s ok. They can talk about this. There’s enough time for that, at least.

“If we can’t block the magical core, let's start by blocking the first level. I assume the disease has already spread to his skin?” Regulus isn’t looking at him, but then again, what else is new? 

“Probably, yeah.” James nods, letting it go.

“Ok. If we use the same type of cure for the magical center and modify it to only affect- what did you say step two was? Muscles? -muscles, we can effectively hold off the virus until we figure something out that’s more permanent.”

“How do we block the muscles from the disease?”

“Maybe we mix the original cure with something more related to bones and tissue… powered fairy crown? No…”

Regulus begins to list ingredients softly under his breath, lowering himself so he can peruse the options on the shelf under the table. 

James, after standing helplessly for a few minutes, sinks down on a couch to watch. Regulus picks up an ingredient and then puts it back, opening box after box. Taking inventory. He occasionally runs his hands through his curls, trying to brush them out of his eyes. 

James looks away, clearing his throat and grabbing a book. He opens it to a random page, trying and failing to read. 

The time passes quickly, and suddenly it’s time for dinner. After agreeing to meet again in a few days, James slips out first. When he turns around, the door has fully disappeared back into the wall.

Handy. 

 

---

 

When he makes it to dinner, Remus gives him an odd look as he sits down. 

“What?” James murmurs. 

Remus cocks his head. “Nothing. We’ll talk about it later.”

Across from them, Sirius deposits a sausage on Remus’s plate. “I think it’s rotten.”

Remus glances from Sirius to the offending sausage. “It’s not rotten.”

Sirius frowns at him. “I tasted it, and I’m pretty sure it’s rotten.”

“Sirius- It’s fine. The house elves wouldn’t serve rotten meat.”

“Oh.” Sirius reached across with his fork again, skewering the sausage and moving it back to his plate. “Ok. I’ll take it back then.”

“You thought it was rotten and you gave it to me?” Remus narrows his eyes. “Why would you put a rotten sausage on my plate?”

“Where would you have me put it?” Sirius looks indignant. 

“Not on my plate!” Remus gestures wildly. “What about Prongs? Or Wormtail?”

“Hey.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius takes a bite of his sausage. Around a mouthful of meat, he mutters “Fine, next time Wormtail gets the sausage.”

“That sounds like an innuendo,” Marlene says, butting into the conversation. 

“Unfortunately it’s not.” James sighs, leaning back to stretch. 

“Are we making sex jokes over here?” Mary tilts forward. 

Remus says “No.” at the same time Sirius says “Yes.” They share a look. 

"A shame. I’m very good at those.”

“We know.” Marlene pats her on the back. 

“What's going on?” Lily asks, scooching Mary down a bit so she can join in the talk. 

“Sirius is going to give Peter his sausage,” Marlene reaches across Sirius for more potatoes. Mary snickers.

“Ugh. I’m sorry I asked.” Lily wrinkles her nose, the corners of her eyes going crinkly. James has to concentrate on his food. It’s fine, he tells himself. He’ll get over it. It just takes time. 

The conversation drifts to arithmancy homework, to the lockdown, to quidditch and the big match against Slytherin next weekend.
By the time they make it back to the common room, they’re all full and happy. 

Well. 

Mostly.

James resists the urge to go to Mcgonagal again. He’s already been more than he should. He’s just being annoying at this point. It’s a marvel she hasn’t put up James Potter specific wards up around her office door. 

I’m sorry Mr. Potter, but it’s too dangerous. Even your mother isn’t permitted to visit him. It’s the same every time. 

Even so, he itches to burst back into her office. Or even better- to go find Regulus and drag him to their new lab so they find a cure faster. Maybe he’d talk to him tomorrow, convince him they should meet more often. 

Maybe- 

Remus slumps down on the couch next to him. “Ok. What’s wrong?”

James’s stomach drops. “What?”

“You look miserable. And you have for a few days now, though I doubt anyone’s noticed.” 

“Moony, I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

There’s that restriction again, the way his gut tightens and his throat closes up. Like he doesn’t physically want to talk about it. Like he can’t. Like his very body won’t let him. He tries to take deep breaths.

“I don’t know what’s the matter, Prongs, but I promise you the others will catch on soon enough. You can tell me. You can talk to me.”

And he wants to. Really. But Remus’s words send shivers across his body, anxiety trickling into his chest. 

He’s been this way since he was little. He doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't. He helps others. That’s all. Anything else makes him ill. 

“I’m, um,” and he has to fight to get anything out. “I’m just stressed, I think. About school. And Sirius. And everything.” 

“Sirius?”

Ah. “Always.”

“What’s wrong with Sirius?”

“Nothing. Except, you know, his parents. His life. This is his first year out of that house. He’s probably still adjusting, but I think it’s taking a toll. I’m not sure. Merlin, I don’t know what I’d do if he still had to go back there each break.”

Remus nods, frowning. “I see it sometimes, you know. He flinched when Marlene reached across him tonight at dinner. I see what they did to him.”

Merlin. James hadn’t even noticed that. “I’m so glad he’s living with me now. I wish... I don't know.”

Remus puts a hand on his shoulder. “You did everything right. Don’t blame yourself.”

Ha.

“Do you, um.” Remus looks slightly uncomfortable then, glancing away. “Do you think Regulus. I mean. Do you think he wants to go back? Each break?” 

James’s chest twists at the name. He seems to be a common topic of conversation as of late. “No.” He hopes he’s right. 

“I still don’t like the kid, mind you, but… I don’t know. I worry about awful people sometimes.”

“Did I ever get you your book back?”

Remus’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Your werewolf book. Did I give it back to you?”

“How did you- oh. Regulus mentioned that. Right. No, you didn’t. It’s ok.”

“Moony… I guarantee you know everything there is to know in that book. What were you looking for? What did you want to find out?”

“I just- there's something I want to look into. I just need a little time before I can tell you.”

“Does Regulus know?”

“Which part?” Remus laughs bitterly. “But no. He doesn’t.”

“God, I wish you could tell us what happened in the library.” James huffs, dropping his head back against the couch. Maybe he should ask Regulus. At that moment, Sirius comes down the stairs in a rush. He bursts into the common room, a letter fisted in his hand. James’s heart sinks.

“Where’s the map?” He looks angry. Very angry. James half rises himself off the couch. 

“What’s going on?” Moony stands up too, looking concerned. 

“I need the map. Right now.”

“Sirius, you have to tell us what's happening,” James says, heart still lodged in his throat. 

“I need to find my fucking brother.”

And despite the furry in those words, they send relief coursing through James’s body. Because Sirius doesn’t know. Not yet, not now. 

“Ok, here,” James fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over. “But we’re going with you.”

“Prongs, I love you but-”

“No. He’s right, Pads.” Remus comes to stand next to James. Sirius looks between them for a second before deciding it isn't worth it. He harshly unfolds the map, scanning it quickly. After a second, he takes off towards the portrait hole. James and Remus scurry to follow. 

The castle was dark, and none of them spoke. The only sound was Sirius’s loud angry breaths as he walked so quickly Remus and James nearly had to jog to keep up. 

“He’s not in the common room.” Sirius muttered. “He’s on the second floor, on Myrtle’s hallway.”

James furrows his brow. Always the second floor. Always that bathroom. 

They descend the stairs quickly, and Remus lites his wand. Sirius and James follow suit. They find Regulus around the corner, illuminated harshly by their wand light. He looks up, startled. Now that James knows what to look for, he sees it, just for a second. The flicker of a bruise. The quick cover. The disguise, dropped, now returned. No one else notices. 

Sirius stalks forward.

“Hey, Reg.” His voice is dipped in venom. He holds up the letter. “Guess what I got in the mail.”

Regulus gives him a cool look. “I imagine you’ll tell me.”

“He’s sick.” Sirius spits, taking another step forward. James flinches.

For a split second, Regulus’s eyes flick to James’, a silent question. James imperceptibly shakes his head. 

Suddenly, Regulus rolls his eyes in understanding. “Oh. Alphard.”

Sirius’s uncle. Remus and James exchange a glance. 

“You fucking knew. He wrote to me, said Walburga found out a while ago. Said there was no doubt she already shared the news with the rest of the family.”

“Yes, well.” Regulus glanced past Sirius. “I’d love to go to bed now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Why didn’t you bloody tell me? He’s got maybe a week left, and none of you fucking told me.”

“Why weren't you there to hear it for yourself?” 

Sirius just shakes his head, scoffing. “I can’t even- you don’t even care, do you?”

Regulus’s expression doesn’t change. He says nothing. 

“Whole fucking family.” Sirius hisses, gesturing wildly. “Bloody psychopaths. Bloody liars.”

Again, Regulus looks to James, just for a second. Then his attentions back on Sirius. “I don’t know what to tell you here. The old bag’s dying. If he wanted you to know sooner, he would’ve told you.” 

“Fuck you, Reg.” Sirius spits. 

“Sirius,” Remus starts, moving forward to touch his arm. “It’s not worth it.”

Sirius looks Reg over, sneering. “No, no part of him ever is.” 

James takes a breath. He fights to stay quiet, although he doesn’t know exactly what would come out if he didn’t. 

Regulus' eyes shoot daggers at Sirius, though his face remains neutral. “Don’t blame me for news taking longer to reach you, Sirius. It’s harder now that it has to go through a third party.”

“Don’t put this on me.”

“You had a duty.”

“Oh, to what? Be the heir? I was never good at being what they wanted, Reg. You of all people should know that. I’m sure you do a much better job.” It’s not a compliment. 

“I do.” 

“I can’t believe I ever thought that you’d change your mind.” 

Why did every interaction with these two have to be so emotionally charged? James wishes, just once, that they’d pass by each other in the hall without fucking tearing into each other. 

But then again, when you haven't had a chance to talk since the beginning of the summer, he guesses there’d be a lot to say. 

“If you’d ever listened to me-”

“All I did was listen to you, Reg! You and your fucking snake speak.”

Next to him, Remus shifts nervously. 

"Je parle dans la langue dont j'ai besoin.”

“Oh, in English. They can’t hear you here.” Sirius leers.

James wants to stop them. Stop him. Stop anyone.

Remus takes another step. “Sirius, you can be angry at him- but be careful.”

Sirius rounds on Remus. “Oh, I forgot you two are bloody best mates now.” 

“We arn’t-”

“Don’t.”

Remus rolls his eyes, holding up his hands in surrender. Sirius rounds on Regulus again.

“I’m going to visit him. And I’m going to tell him that you’re a coward and a traitor, and you won't be there to defend yourself.”

Fuck. 

James watches the words hit Regulus, watches him take a step back. Watches him reach into his cloak, presumably for his wand.

“Regulus-” James starts as Sirius also starts to pull out his wand. James moves in between them, hands extended.

“He’s my uncle too.” Regulus doesn’t fully pull out his wand, but he’s still holding it. 

“No he’s not. He chose to leave, and I chose to leave. You lost your chance. He knows that.”

Regulus’s eyes are sharp, fixed on Sirius. He says nothing. 

“How many letters has he sent you, Reg? Because I’ve gotten one weekly.” Sirius’s words are heavy with simmering spite. 

Remus and James look at each other. This is bad- worse now that Regulus has stopped responding. They need to deescalate the situation, but they both know it’s nearly impossible when it comes to the Black brothers. You try to stop them, and you get caught in the supernova. So they watch, holding their breaths. 

“Where’s Crouch, Reg? Or Rosier, or Meadows? Where’s your little pack of demons? Matter of fact- why are you out here alone? What are you up to?” Sirius is scrambling slightly, looking for any chinks in his brother's armor. Anything to attack.

Regulus stays silent, lifting his chin.

“Why are you on the second floor, when the common room is in the dungeons? Can’t even be getting food, because the kitchens are still one floor up.”

James, against his will, finds himself asking the same question. First time he found Regulus on this hallway, he stumbled out of a bathroom bruised and bleeding. The second time was today, when they ran into each other totally by accident. Both times he’d neglected to ask Regulus why he was there or where he was going. It hadn’t seemed like the time. 

“Speaking of which, surely you didn’t come down here just to look for me, Sirius?” Regulus smirks slightly. “I’m truly honored. You went all this way just to talk?” 

“Avoidant as ever, Reg. Good to know you haven’t changed.”

“Yes, lovely, we’re all the same as we’ve always been. Are we done with this conversation now? Because it’s past curfew and Lupin here might have to start docking points.”

“Keep your secrets. Run back to your little friends. Stay the fuck away from us.” Sirius whirls around, pushing past James and Remus to start walking. 

Regulus looks at James then, fully looks at him, and raises his eyebrows slightly. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: See? Do you see why we can’t tell him? Do you see how I’d suffer if we did?

James sends him an apologetic glance, wishing he could say more. He lingers for a second before he turns and goes after his friends.  

He watches as Remus stumbles on a step, catching himself on a railing and taking a deep breath before continuing on. 

It’s almost the full moon. 

 

Notes:

Je parle dans la langue dont j'ai besoin= I speak in whatever language I need to

Chapter 11: Wrong

 

Pandora shuts her book and glares at him. “Stop talking,” She hisses.

Regulus looks up, indignant. “I’m not!”

She shushes him. “You were going to.” 

He was. “I was not.”

“Well, we’re talking now. What is it?”

He gives up. “I was going to ask if you thought there was any way I could test out of astronomy. It’s just taking up time.”

“Mmm. Probably. Maybe.”

Regulus prefers studying with Pandora. As a Ravenclaw, she respects when he needs to be quiet and focus. She actually prefers it- as opposed to Barty or Dorcas who love to make conversation. Sometimes they invite Evan to their little study group, but often he declines. It’s just as well: Regulus and Pandora get along fine. 

He reaches over and slides Hogwarts: A History across the table towards him, flipping it open. He’s been looking for a while now, searching for any mention of the potions lab that magically appeared in the wall. So far, he’s found nothing. 

He skims the section titled “Secret Rooms” one last time, then promptly gives up. He shoves the book away from him and switches over to a potions book on cures. It’s a little on the nose, maybe, but Regulus still knows basically shit about healing potions and really needs to study before he sees James again. 

Pandora sends him a look. She taps on the cover of Hogwarts: A History with one brightly colored nail. “What are you looking for?”

“Hm?” He glances up and meets her eyes. Her lashes are so blonde they're almost white. She blinks at him. 

“You’ve been through this book about three times and you read for maybe 5 seconds each. What do you want to know?”

“I- um.” It’s Dora. He wouldn’t consider telling anyone else this, but she probably wouldn’t think twice. Honestly, she might be able to help. “The other day, I was walking, and a door just appeared in the wall. It had a- um, potions lab in it. It’s interesting because I was just thinking about how I needed-”

“You needed one. Right.” She laughs, and then immediately stifles it behind her hand after a look from Madam Pince. “You mean the Come and Go room.” 

“What?”

“The house-elves told me, but I found it too. I was thinking about how desperately I wanted a nap, and the door appeared. It gave me a lovely bed. I haven’t seen it again, but I’m sure I could If I needed to.” 

“So… what? The room only appears when there’s something you need?”

Pandora twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. “Yes. Or want, maybe.”

“Hm.”

He can feel her studying him. “You’re worried.”

“What?”

“About something. More than usual. It’s like the train, I can tell- somethings off.” She waves her hands vaguely. 

“Nothing's off. I’m not worried.” 

“Yes, you are. And you aren't going to tell me. But do look out for yourself, Reg.” 

He wishes his friends would stop saying stuff like that.

“Naturally.” There’s something about Pandora that brings out the softness in Regulus, his underbelly. He’s half convinced she has the power to make anyone do anything simply because they don’t want to upset her. 

She nods at him, then opens her book again. “Ask Slughorn. About testing out of Astronomy. He’ll help you out. Though think twice, Reg. The stars make great conversation if you choose to listen.”

Regulus watches her read for a moment, silent. He wonders what world she belongs in. He’s certain it isn’t this one. 

After a second, he goes back to the book in front of him. 

 

---

 

The next time Dumbledore asks to meet him, Regulus starts to really dislike the man. The staircase to his office takes too long, and the hippogriff guarding the doorway gives him a dirty look as he passes. 

When he sits, Dumbledore leans across his desk, lacing his long white fingers together delicately. “Mr. Black.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you for finding the time to meet with me.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Are you planning on going home for Christmas?”

The question catches him so off guard Regulus has to take time to think of his answer. “...Yes, sir.” Where else would he go?

“Hm.” Dumbledore leans back and studies him. Regulus wants him to stop looking at him like that. He straightens his back, squares his shoulders.  

From a drawer in his desk, Dumbledore pulls out a letter. It’s folded, but the dark black seal has been broken. The breath catches in Regulus’s throat. He can vaguely make it out- but he’s sure either way. That’s the Black family crest, the Black family seal. That’s a letter from his mother. 

Except- he never received that one. Dumbledore must’ve intercepted it. His hands jump in his lap, but there’s nothing he can do. He stares, waits, for something. Anything. Any indication of what Dumbledore now knows. The silence stretches, and the waters rise. Regulus tries not to choke. 

“I do apologize, Mr. Black, for going through your mail, but desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

Regulus waits. He’s too terrified to be angry, at least for now. 

“This letter says something about a meeting over break. You’re expected to attend. You’re also supposed to bring back a ‘progress report’. May I ask what your mother intends with these requests?”

Fuck.

No, he can handle this. It’s fine. He’s smart enough.

“The meeting is in referral to my tutor. My mother wants me to get better in French, especially literature. The progress report is… on my brother.” He has to bite out the words. “She hasn’t seen him in a while, asked me to keep track of how he’s doing.” It’s hard; lying without actually being able to read the letter. All that could be proven wrong in an instant, and Regulus would lose any shred of control he still has on the situation.  

He closes his hand under the table. Digs into his skin. Fist. Nails. Calm. 

“Mr. Black, as I stated before, these are desperate times. All information pertaining to Lord Voldemort would be extremely-”

“I’m sorry Sir. I don’t know anything.” Fist, nails, calm. 

“Mr. Black. After the recent attacks on Beauxbatons, we really need to know what his next move is. It would be crucial to have someone on the inside, someone to tell us-”

“I’m sorry sir.” If Dumbledore was intercepting his letters, he’d need to be more careful. He can’t stop writing to his mother, that would only make things ten times worse for him when he gets home. He needs to find a way to let her know, tell her it’s no longer safe… he should’ve been on the lookout, that’s what she’d say. He should have been smart enough to encrypt all his letters, hide all her mail.

“There’s something else, Mr. Black.” Dumbledore leans back in his chair, and Regulus imagines stabbing him through the heart. It’d feel good. “I’ve noticed you’ve been absent from the common room lately. A lot more than previous years.”

What. The. Fuck. 

“You watch the common room?”

“I have the house elves report any unusual behavior. During these times, it's pertinent that I make sure everyone is staying safe.” 

Regulus just stares at him. 

“My point is, Mr. Black, if there’s anything you need to tell me, I’m here. If you feel like you’re being pressured to do something you-”

Regulus stands up sharply, the chair screeching back a little more than he intends it to. “Sorry, Sir, but I just remembered I have a meeting with Slughorn I’ve nearly forgotten about. We’ll have to continue this conversation later.”

“Mr. Black-”

Regulus turns and walks out before he can finish. 

 

---

 

“You’re angry.”

It's the first thing James says to him when he walks in. 

“I’m not.”

“You are.” James crosses to his side of the table. 

Regulus sighs. “Dumbledore.” 

James nods sagely. “Ah.”  A pause. “What’d Dumbledore do?”

“Did you know he has the house elves watching us? Well, not us, actually, because I’m pretty sure he just keeps an eye on Slytherin. God knows Gryffindors can do no wrong-”

“He’s watching you?”

Regulus nods. “Intercepted my letters too.”

James furrows his brows. “Wait, really? Reg, that's awful. Can we do something? I can go ask him to-”

"Potter. No." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Regulus looks away. James grins. “Lucky for you, I brought us some bread pudding.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little napkin, neatly folded into a square. He looks up at Regulus, triumphant. 

Regulus stares at him, incredulous. “... Bread pudding? Like from dinner?”

“I went to the kitchens. The house elves helped me wrap it up.” He unfolds it carefully, presenting the pudding, cut into squares, to Regulus. 

“Potter, this is not a picnic.”

“It’ll make you feel better. Besides, we need nutrition for healthy functioning brains.”

Regulus has to shove down the flush creeping up his neck at that. It’ll make you feel better. 

Regulus swallows. “I don’t think your brain can function. Ever.” 

James just grins and hands him a chunk of bread pudding. “Just eat, then we can talk potion cures.” Regulus glares at him. 

When James turns to pull out a book from his bag, Regulus takes a bite. It’s good. 

“Hey, about the other day, in the hallway,” James starts, “Where were you coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not, but… I was just, I don’t know, I’ve seen you on that hallway three times now, and one of them you were very injured.”

“I was not very injured.” 

“You collapsed at my feet.”

“That is not how that happened, first of all, and second of all, I’m fine now.”

James rubs his forehead. “That’s not my point.”

“It doesn’t matter. Leave it.”

“Fine. Also… ah… I’m sorry about what Sirius said. About Alphard.”

I’m going to tell him that you’re a coward and a traitor, and you won't be there to defend yourself. 

Regulus can’t bring himself to meet James’s eyes. It’s work to keep his face neutral. “I don’t care what he said.”

“It was a shitty thing to say, though, either way. He’s just hurting a lot right now, what with Alphard and …everything.”

Everything. Regulus stays quiet. 

James sighs, and hands him another piece of pudding. “You both are so bloody dramatic,” he mumbles, sinking down and biting into his own. 

“I was thinking,” Regulus says when they’ve finished the pudding. They’re sitting on the floor, cross legged. “We have an issue.”

“Besides the incurable part of our little plan?”

“Besides that. What happens when you go back for Christmas break? With Sirius?” It took a minute for Regulus to realize that little hang-up. In his head, Sirius still lives in Grimmauld Place. In his head, he’ll be there with him when he goes back. 

James’s face darkens a bit, and he looks down. “I know. I know. I need to tell him by then. I just, I don’t know how. I can’t… I can’t.”

“You’ll get over it. When you talk to him.”

“I’ll tell him by break. I will.” At Regulus’s look, James laughs. The sound sends shivers through his body. James continues. “And I won’t mention you. At all. I promise.”

Regulus nods, just once. “Let's get this over with by break then. Not the cure. I still don’t think that’s possible. But the first step, the muscle barrier, let’s have that done so you can take it home and somehow get him to try it.”

James nods, then jumps to his feet and claps. Regulus flinches and glares at him. “Let's do then! Up, up, we’ve got a disease to cure!”

Regulus gets to his feet. God, he hates him.

 

---

 

When he visits the Basilisk next, he checks to make sure no elves are following before he slips into the bathroom. 

He’s brought his violin with him, partly because it’s been too long and partly because he wants to hear what the acoustics sound like in the chamber. 

He settles himself on top of the statue's head, and looks down at the Basilisk. I’m going to play some music, he says. He’s found it helps to warn the snake in advance. 

Music?

Yes. Regulus lifts the violin out of its case and tightens the bow, gliding the box of rosin down it only once before lifting the instrument under his chin. 

When he starts to play, the basilisk flinches back. Regulus doesn’t stop, his fingers moving swiftly over the strings. The sound shudders off the walls, bouncing and spiraling in a haunting echo. It’s beautiful. 

Whenever Regulus plays, the rest of the world melts back a bit. It’s still there, on the edges of his mind, waiting to be let in; but it’s gentle. With the violin tucked under his chin, Regulus is calm. It's like when he flies, alone and high up, soaring through the wet cold air. It's soft. 

Sometimes, though, he’ll hit a note slightly off. Just a bit, just the wrong angle of his bow, and he's back in his living room, tears running down his face as his mother smacks his wrist and demands he do it again. Sirius looks up at him helplessly from the piano, entirely useless. There was nothing to be done. So Regulus would play, over and over while his mother watched. It was hard to be calm then. 

When Regulus lowers the violin, the Basilisk is silent for a moment. You should do that more often. 

You liked it? 

My master used to play.

Ah. He played the violin?

No. The piano. 

Regulus looks down at the snake, violin resting in his lap. My brother played piano.

Was he good? 

Regulus smiles slightly, though the Basilisk can’t see. Yeah. 

He was always jealous of how easily music came to Sirius. He never seemed to struggle as much as Regulus did. He was always dismissed to dinner first- though he’d do his best to sneak a roll out for Regulus when he was done. Regulus was jealous of Sirius’s instrument, too- the piano was all flat spaces and smooth surfaces. It sounded gentle; it was gentle. The violin was sharp and dangerous. Strings that dig in, all rough edges and metal shards.  When Sirius was done, his fingers would be clean and smooth. Regulus would have to bundle his in kitchen towels to stop the bleeding. It never seemed fair. 

Walburga would tell him that if he practiced more, he’d grow calluses. It’d hurt less. And it was true, the pads of his fingers grew thick and rough with practice. 

It didn’t take long to discover that even calluses can be cut through after enough time.

Where did your master get a piano? In all of Regulus’s time down here, he’d never seen a piano tucked anywhere. 

I heard it. It was perfect. 

But- nevermind. If the Basilisk didn’t answer a question the first time, it was rare to get anything out of him the second. 

Where is your brother? 

He’s here. He’s a student. A Gryffindor. 

To his surprise, the Basilisk doesn’t react. 

Gryffindors. Nobel. Brave. I liked him. 

Regulus straightens, his heart starting to pick up its pace. Who, Gryffindor? You met Godric Gryffindor? 

I didn’t mind him. 

But- the actual Gryffindor, he knew you were down here?

Yes. The Basilisk flickers its pointed tongue. 

Regulus sits back, slightly out of breath. It made no sense. If Gryffindor knew this beast was down here, specifically to kill muggleborns, how- why didn’t he do anything? Kill it? Turn in Slytherin?

Why was he down here? 

You want to know so much. I do not know the answers to all things. 

“Merde,” Regulus hisses through gritted teeth, wanting to punch something. He puts his violin back in its case instead. How can one snake be so unhelpful? I have to go, he tells the Basilisk. 

He’s been sneaking out after his friends fall asleep, finding it easier than having to constantly make up excuses. It does mean he gets no rest himself, but he’s willing to live with that consequence. As much as he wants to keep talking about this, it’s practically morning. 

This has to be one of the most confusing nights of his life. 

It doesn’t get better. 

 

---

 

The full moon never gets easier. Not for Remus, not for anyone. 

At least he no longer wakes up alone and covered in blood. 

James squeezes his eyes shut as Remus screams again, hunched over on the floor of the shack. The sound never fails to tear into him, ripping through his ribs to his heart. 

“Wormtail, I think it's time,” Sirius says, just as Remus looks up at them and growls “Change! Now!” 

The three of them morph into their animagi forms. It’s always smooth for them. It’s so much worse for Remus. James has to duck his head, blinking his deer eyes shut. Even as a stag, James can’t bring himself to watch as his friend’s skin splits open and the monster appears. 

After, when the moon has vanished and they’ve made it back to the shack, something's not quite right. Remus is still not himself, still too tall and too large and much too dangerous. It’s been too long.

James huffs out air and turns his head to look at Padfoot, who flicks his tail back and forth nervously. Wormtail squeaks a bit from the ground. They’ve all gathered back in the shack, because logically, this should be done by now. The wolf snarls at them, playful attitude of an hour ago long gone. 

Then Moony takes a few steps towards Padfoot, who's hackles go up instantly. James can’t think beyond 

Bad.

Not right. 

Somethings wrong

Fix this. 

He canters forwards, huffing again. Wormtail skitters away between his legs to the back of the shack. 

The wolf growls again at Padfoot, who takes a catious step back, tail tucked between his legs. Suddenly, before any of them have time to de-escalate the situation, the wolf lunges. Claws out, teeth bared. 

Not right. Fix. 

Fix.

Fix. 

Protect.

James moves quick, too quick, in front of Padfoot. He feels the claws tear into his side, feels the rip of flesh. He twists his head, knocking the wolf away with his antlers. There’s blood matting his hair, he can feel its warmth, but the adrenaline blocks the pain. He stumbles away towards Padfoot, who whimpers and gently nudges him with his wet nose. When he looks back, the wolf is on the ground, skin shrinking and reshaping. 

Remus lays on his side, bruised and slightly bloody. Unconscious, but stirring. 

Ouch . 

Now it hurts. James stumbles again, but he’s not as stable as a stag. Next to him, Padfoot is changing, and Peter is already pulling on a shirt, looking panicked. James can’t tell why. 

Sirius grabs James’s head between his hands, eyes wide. “Change, James. You need to change.”

Change?

Human, he remembers through the haze of pain. Now. And between Sirius’s hands, he focuses his energy and feels his skin begin to shift shape. 

“Fuck,” He groans. Sirius is kneeling, James in his arms. It bloody hurts, but it’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He will. 

He’s just in his pants, because they prefer to leave their trousers and shirts off before they change in case they get ripped. He can feel blood on his skin, but his main focus is Remus. “Moony-” 

“Shh, he’s fine, Pete’s got him.” Sirius’s hands are hovering over James’ abdomen, as if he doesn’t know what to do. “Bloody hell Prongs, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“James?” Remus’s voice, breaking and croaky. 

“I’m fine, Moons. I’m- ugh. I’m fine.” James has to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. 

“James? What happened? What did I do?” He sounds more terrified than James has ever heard him. 

“Nothing, Remus. Don’t worry.” He tries to sound reassuring, but judging by Remus’s broken gasp, he guesses he doesn’t manage it very well.

Sirius mutters a spell. “The bleeding’s stopped, thank fuck, so lets just get him back to the castle and we can clean him up.”

He gets to his feet, leaning down and pulling James up by his underarm. James has to try not to cry out, biting his lip till it bleeds. The taste of blood on his tongue seems fitting, somehow.

Remus and Pete get to their feet. While Peter is supporting Remus, it’s only slight. Remus looks ok. James lets out a breath. 

He slings an arm over Sirius, taking a hesitant step. Fire shoots up his side and he nearly doubles over. 

“Ok, Ok, you’re fine. Jesus, Prongs, you’re the one supposed to be taking care of me when I’m injured. Not the other way around.”

James grins and then winces. “Guess it was your turn.”

The trip back to the castle is awful. Once they get inside, they have a quick whispered argument about where to go. 

“Madam Pomfrey's, now.” Remus glares at him, and James does his best not to shrink back under the force of it. 

“No. She’s going to ask questions, and there’s literally no logical explanation for this. On a full moon, too. She’ll know, Remus. I won’t.”

“James, I don’t care what she’ll find out. You need actual medical help. You’re bleeding over your pants.”

James glances down. Sirius’s spell had only lasted so long, it seemed. James still didn’t quite have the time to put on trousers, or a shirt for that matter, and now the side of his pants are starting to turn red. He reaches up and clamps a hand over the smarting wound. It’s not that deep, he thinks. He hopes. But shit, does it hurt. 

“I’ll be fine. I won’t sacrifice your safety for mine, Remus.”

“You already tried that, you bloody idiot, and look what that got you. Please James, I need you to be ok.”

James glanced at Pete and Sirius. “Guys, help.”

“Ok, well, standing here about to bleed out on the floor isn’t a great option. But Moony, I think Prongs is right. We can’t risk it. He’ll be ok. We have spells, and towels.” 

“Thanks, Pads.”

Remus’s glare intensifies. “Pete?”

“Ah- I’m kind of with James and Sirius on this one, Remus. I’m sorry, but she’ll know we were with you. It's like Pads said, we can’t risk it.”

“Traitor,” Remus hisses, but sighs. “Fine, but if you die from this Prongs, I will literally kill you.”

“I think you already tried that one, mate.” James coughs, taking a step. 

Remus’s eyes widen, and James laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Too soon.”

They start to move, taking the staircase one step at a time. Once they reach the second floor James needs a break. “Can I have my shirt back? Or my trousers?”

“Do you want to bleed over them?” Pete hisses. Remus has been uncharacteristically quiet since the first floor argument. 

“No. Fine. I’ll just keep going like this then.”

“Don’t worry, Prongsy, you have the muscles to make the bloodied look work.” 

“Great, thanks. I’m sure the portraits are appreciating this.”

“We are!” An old woman titers over her martini glass. The man one painting over grumply shushes her, previously fast asleep. James winks.

They keep moving, James’s arm still slung over Sirius’s shoulder. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway in front of them. They freeze, sharing panicked glances. The cloak is bundled with James’s clothes in Pete’s arms, and it’s far too late anyway. 

Someone rounds the corner, wand lit. 

Sirius swears softly under his breath. James swallows.

Regulus. 

Shit. James’s first thought is that he’s almost naked. He flushes, though he doubts anyone can tell. He mentally berates himself a second later. That is not the most pressing issue here. He’s also half covered in blood. 

His second thought is this floor. Again. 

Regulus freezes, eyes wide and face white. He stares at James, taking him in quickly. 

“What-”

“Keep moving, Reg, we don’t have time for this.” Sirius moves forward, forcing James to take another step.

Regulus takes a step closer, and is that…? No, surely not. Surely the great Regulus Black doesn’t look concerned right now. 

But there it is, in the slight pinch of his eyebrows, the tilt of his chin. James mentally fills a note to tease him about this later. 

“Sirius, what the fuck-”

“I told you to fuck off.”

“Sirius, just keep going,” Peter mutters. 

Regulus glances between them, looking for all the world like someone at a loss for what to do. His cheeks have turned a decidedly bright shade of pink. 

“Regulus, don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” James says. He tries to sound formal, professional. Just talking to a classmate. He tries not to let his voice sound too reassuring. 

Regulus locks eyes with him, and James finds himself struck by the intensity of his gaze. 

“Trust me Prongs, he’s not worried about you. He’s just looking to stir up trouble.” Sirius says, taking another step with James. 

“So are you,” Peter almost growls. “So please, can we get a move on before James bleeds out in this hallway?”

“Fine,” Sirius mutters. “Reg, crawl back to the dungeons. If you say a word about this, just remember I know your weak spots.”                                                                                                               

“Padfoot-”

“Ok, I’m going.”  He starts to walk again, and James groans in pain. 

Regulus sends him a look. “Sirius, use dittany. Whatever spell you already tried for the bleeding obviously failed.”

Sirius mutters something under his breath about unhelpful little brothers. “Fuck off.”

Regulus glares at him but doesn’t say anything else, hesitantly letting them pass. James can feel his eyes on them as they walk away. 

Once they’re out of sight, Sirius mutters “Don’t you see? He’s on the second floor again, way past curfew. I swear to Godrick, he’s up to something.”

For once, James can’t disagree. 

 

---

 

They make it back to the common room in one piece. James collapses on his bed and Remus runs to grab wet rags. 

Peter pulls out dittany from Remus’s bedside table, where they keep it for emergencies. Carefully and methodically, with spell work, plants, and water, they clean him up and fashion a make-shift bandage.

Remus still hasn’t said a word, but by the time they’re done James is too exhausted to check in about it. He’d do it tomorrow, he tells himself. First, he’d just like a bit of sleep. 

When he closes his eyes, his dreams are filled with claws and fur and sharp grey eyes.

Notes:

"merde"= shit

sorry if this fic is starting to feel repetitive im working on it

Chapter 12: Inside the Chamber

Notes:

I used to think that godric/slytherin storylines were so boring then i started writing it and lemme tell you im invested

When James wakes up the next morning, Remus isn’t in his bed. Peter and Sirius are snoring contentedly. 

James sits up, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry of pain. Right. He forgot. He lifts his shirt, swallowing thickly at the bandages wrapping his ribcage. They’re thick, but already a small patch of red is starting to show through. 

He climbs out of bed slowly, wishing for all the world he could go to Madam Pomfrey for a pain potion. He settles on another leaf of dittany to chew as he grabs the map. 

He finds Remus’s name in the prefect's bathroom. Probably having a bath, but it isn’t like James hasn’t seen him naked before. Besides, they really need to talk. 

When he opens the door, he’s greeted by a plume of lavender steam. He coughs and pushes through it. He finds Remus alone in the bath, head resting back against the rim of the large tub. 

“Moony,” He starts, and Remus lurches up and whips his head around. 

“Merlin, James, you scared me. What- you can’t be in here. This is a perfect’s bath.”

“I’m basically a prefect.”

“No you’re not.” 

“By association-”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’m naked, James. At least get out so I can put on some pants.”

James laughs. “Hey, after last night we’re even now. Well, I guess you don’t have to walk through the castle in only your underwear, but…”

At that, Remus’s face falls. James watches him carefully. “Moony?”

“It’s just-” He takes a shuddering breath, and more steam rises. Something heavy clings to the corners of the room. “I’m sorry James. I’m so, so sorry, I fucked up and I never meant for anyone to get hurt, and-”

“Hey, hey,” James moves quickly, kneeling next to the tub, water staining his knees. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Nobody blames you.” 

“No, you don’t understand, I was so angry -” 

“It wasn’t you, though, was it?” 

“But I should’ve told you, I should’ve warned you about it.”

James pauses. “About what?”

Remus looks miserable. “Why I needed that book, what I was doing in the library with Regulus. I shouldn’t have blamed it all on that stupid curse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there are things I could’ve told you but didn’t.” 

James clears his throat. “You can tell me now.”

When Remus looks up at him, there are tears in his eyes. The sight hits James like a brick. He’s never, not once in his life, seen Remus cry. Sometimes, when he first watched Remus turn during the full moon, a tear or two would slip down his cheek. But that was from pure physical pain, desperation, nothing like this. This was different. Somehow, this was more… authentic. 

It scared him. 

“Remus?”

“I think I’m changing, James. For good. I can feel it. I know you see it too. It’s taking longer and longer each moon to turn. I mean this time, the moon was practically gone by the time I shifted back again.” He closes his eyes briefly, and James wants to hug him desperately. “I’m getting angrier, too, during the month. It’s like part of the wolf stays with me. And when I do change, I mean… you saw what happened last. Hell, you felt what happened. I can’t control anything.”

James takes a deep breath. “So the book, the library…”

“I was doing research. I wanted to know if this happens to other… people like me.” The words come out with a certain hesitation. 

“And?”

Remus wipes a hand over his face. “It does.” Something inside James sinks.

“We can figure it out.” James huffs. “I don’t think, I mean… I haven’t noticed a difference. Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Or Sirius, when he asked?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Remus-”

“‘Cause you’re all going to be scared of me now,” Remus snaps, his eyes flicking up. When he’s frustrated, his accent comes out strong. “I know if I told Sirius, he’d never look me in the eye again. And I can’t- I can’t take that.”

Something in his tone catches on that little curious part of James that always ignites when it comes to Sirius and Remus. There’s something different there, he knows, but not something he can place. 

“I don’t think he’ll care about that. I mean, if anything, it’ll just make him want to find a… cure… faster.” James trails off the end of his sentence, the weight of the situation finally piling itself on his shoulders.

Another cure. Another person he cares about sick with no certain way out. Another secret to keep. 

He sits down heavily, trousers soaked now too. He takes a deep breath, but it shakes on the inhale. He needs to get out of this cloying steam, this oppressive heat that makes it hard to breathe. He wonders if panic has always smelled like lavender. 

Fuck. 

He can’t do this. He can’t. Not this too. 

Not Remus. 

Not his father. 

What if he can’t save anyone? 

No, it’s ok, he can balance this. He can make room for this too. He’ll figure it out, maybe he’ll visit Dumbledore. Ask him to start looking for a way to stop whatever’s happening to Remus. At least slow it down. He has to agree, right?

“James?” Remus is watching him with wide concerned eyes. 

“I’m… fine. I’m ok. In your research, did it say anything about a time frame? Or what’s happening?”

Remus gives him a cautious look. “I need to get dressed first. This is not a conversation to be had while I’m in the bath. Kindly get out, just for a second?”

“Great. Yeah. I’ll be in the… stall.” He turns and stands, wincing slightly. He seats himself on a closed toilet lid, resting his head against the wall, suddenly too tired to keep it up. They have probably thirty minutes before breakfast.

After a minute, Remus sits down on the toilet across from him, sweater on, hair still wet from his bath. “The books said I have a while. There are cures, probably, but I don’t know what yet. I still have more to learn. I think, I mean as far as I know, I’ll just turn one moon and not turn back.”

Don’t worry , James thinks. I’ll save you too. I just need more time. He presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. “Ok.”

“Now it’s your turn. What’s going on?”

The words press against his throat, begging to be let out. He swallows thickly. 

“Prongs.”

“My dad’s sick.” The only other time he’s said the words out loud was that night to Regulus, he realizes. They don’t taste any better the second time around. 

“Shit. What- I mean, what happened? What is it? How bad is it?”

“Dragon pox. He only has a few months, so you’re winning in that regard. They think it was an attack, somehow. I haven’t been allowed to visit him, yet. Hopefully they’ll figure something out by Christmas break.” James kicks the bottom of the door restlessly.

Remus doesn’t apologize, or console him, or anything. Just watches. “You haven’t told Sirius.”

James’s lack of response is condemning enough. 

“James…”

“I know.”

“He deserves to know.”

“I know.”

“He’s his father too.”

“He was mine first.” It comes out before James even has the chance to think about what he’s saying. Remus stares at him, not angry, just patient. James hangs his head. “Sorry. That’s not fair. I’ll tell him. I just… couldn’t. Not with Alphard.”

It’s an easy excuse, and he grabs it with both hands. He doesn’t tell Remus the real, much darker, much more selfish reason. The one that comes with nothing but a trail of guilt.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have told you,” Remus starts suddenly. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me too.”

“Too late for that. And don't worry, I’m always a little worried about you.” He lets out a small laugh. “I’m glad you told me. I’d rather know.”

“Hm.”

“But Moony- can you not mention the thing with my dad to Sirius? I’ll tell him. I just- I should do it.”

Remus sighs. “Ok, James, you tell him. I have my own secrets to share with Sirius anyway.” He gestures at himself vaguely. “But do tell him, please.”

“...I will.” James finds himself missing Regulus and his quiet understanding. He can feel Remus’s disapproval emanating off him.

“Don’t worry, Moony. We’ll sort you out.” James says, and Remus only nods. 

“I know I can't stop you from trying.”

They stand up together, leaving a cloud of lavender steam behind them as they walk out. 

 

—-

 

When James walks into the Come and Go room next, Regulus is waiting for him. He’s frowning, which inevitably makes James smile. 

“Hey,” He says, taking another bundle of bread pudding out of his pocket, putting it on the table. He always feels so useless; at least when he brings snacks he’s contributing something. 

“You’re late. Again.”

“Yes, but I’ve brought food. Again.”

“Mm.”

James walks closer. “Any inspiring ideas since I’ve seen you last?”

“Oh, you mean since the other night? When I found you wandering the halls, practically naked and bleeding out?”

James snaps his mouth shut. Shit. He forgot about that. His side gives a twinge as if it remembers it’s supposed to be in pain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t even try.”

“I don’t think that happened. Pretty sure you’re imagining things.”

“I see that you’re alive and well, so my idiot brother did something right. Or- was it Lupin? He seems a bit more competent.”

“I have no idea-“

“James.”

Oh. 

James. 

James. James James James James.

Something warm blooms in his chest. “I’m fine.” He relents. “They patched me up.”

“What happened? Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” James holds Regulus' strong gaze. It’s a bit of a struggle. 

“You’re not going to tell me.” It’s a statement, not a question.

James says nothing. 

Regulus is stubborn. “You were practically leaving a trail of blood down the hall.”

“So what happened to you, Reg?” James starts, and Regulus’s eyes flash. “When you fell out of that bathroom with a broken ankle. What happened then? Why are you always on the second floor late at night?” 

They lock eyes, both silent. Something’s pulled taught between them, and then it snaps.  

Regulus shakes his head, breaking the silence. “I still don’t know how we’re going to do this. I don’t think it’s possible.”

Ah. The potion, his father. Reality crashes back into place. 

At least once every meeting, Regulus feels the need to re-enforce that sentiment. James has learned to block him out. He ignores him, for his own sanity. 

James peers into the cauldron boiling on the table. They’d mixed the ingredients last time, and Regulus had taken one look and declared they’d need to let it boil for at least a week. They keep meeting, because things need to be added and the potion needs to be stirred.

“What if we just turn up the heat? Won’t it finish faster?” To James’ chagrin, it’s a genuine question.

Regulus turns to him, incredulous. “That is so unbelievably idiotic I don’t even know where to start.”

Regulus apparently does know where to start, because he goes off on a tangent about boiling points and rates of precipitation. James watches him talk, not really listening.

He grabs a piece of bread pudding and offers another to Regulus, who takes it without slowing down.

It’s funny, on some level. How easy it is, this rhythm they’ve fallen into. Conversation among enemies.

But James doesn’t let himself see it that way. No enemy would agree to help him like this. Dedicate this much time and effort. James itches to return the favor. He has no idea how. 

“Come help me crush these bloom berries.” Regulus slides the bowl towards him and James jumps in, eager to be of some assistance. 

James picks up a knife, trying to mimic Regulus’s swift movements. He watches his long fingers quickly flip the blade to the flat side and drag them across the berry while pushing down, crushing them. James does his best to copy him, resulting in a squirt of purple berry juice across his chin. He wipes it off, frowning. Regulus bites his cheek, obviously trying not to laugh. James' chest lights up. He tries again, and gets it right this time. 

“It’s our match this weekend.” James starts, still carefully focused on the berries.

“Oh, I know.” Regulus smirks. “I wouldn’t forget.”

“Right, right. Of course. You’re gonna destroy us, and all that.” 

“Naturally.”

“Mmm. I’ll let our beaters know to look out for you specifically. With their talent, you’d be lucky to get through the match still on your broom.” 

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

James grins at him. “I guess we’ll see if you make it out alive, yeah? Let’s just start with that.”

“Oh, so you’re putting a hit on me now?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Ah, you admit that I’d need to be killed in order for you to win.”

“Well-“

“Not to mention, you’re still shit at potions.” 

James furrows his brow. “What does that have to do with quidditch?”

Regulus looks up at him, smiling sarcastically. There’s a flash of teeth. “You can’t kill me, you need me.”

James has to take a breath. “I think you’re giving yourself a bit too much credit there. I’ve already made like half this potion.”

“What are these bloom berries going to do?”

It’s a test, one that James immediately fails. “Uh…”

“Precisely.” Regulus resumes his crushing, and James can’t help but laugh. 

He watches him for a minute, forgetting about his berries. He knows now- how he’ll repay him. Though it won’t be enough. It won’t even come close. But… “I can talk to Sirius, if you’d like. You could come to my house for Christmas break, or something. If you don’t want to go back.” 

Regulus’s hands still on the knife. “What?”

“I just mean- I could talk to him. I know my Mum would be fine with it, and at the end of the day… I don’t know.”

“You can’t be… is that an actual suggestion?”

Of course. Of course it is. “Yes?”

“James, I can’t… I can’t do that.”

“Yes you-“

“No, I can’t.”

“Sirius managed it.”

Regulus’s eyes harden. “Contrary to what everyone seems to believe, I am not Sirius.”

He’s right. 

“So you want to go back? I thought you said they were killing you.”

Alright, maybe the wrong thing to say. James’ having an off day, apparently. Regulus’s face shuts down, another wall up. James curses himself. 

Regulus stares at the bowl in front of him, picking the knife back up. “I have to go back.”

“But do you want to?”

Regulus’s eyes are hard, focused on the small purple berries. Crush. Crush. Crush. “I have to go back.” 

“Reg-”

“You can’t save everyone, Potter.” He picks up the cutting board, dumping the crushed berries and their juices into the cauldron. A plum of purple steam goes up, and Regulus waves it away before stirring. 

“Ok.” James says finally, watching him through the mist.

Regulus looks up. “Ok?”

“I won’t try to save you.”

Something flickers across Regulus’s face. He looks down. “Ok.”

It’s like he said. 

James has always been a good liar. 

 

---

 

For the first time, Regulus doesn’t spend all of his time in the Chamber on top of the statue's head. He’s standing on the floor, the Basilisk about 15 feet away. He wants to try something new. 

Can I go into the mouth? Regulus asks cautiously. His proximity to the snake is sending his pulse skyrocketing. From this angle, he gets a nice view of its long dripping fangs. 

The Basilisk seems to think for a second. Carefully . It responds finally. Regulus lets out a sigh.

Thank you. I’ll be respectful. He’s learned what keywords work best.

Gingerly, Regulus crouches slightly and steps into the tunnel that is the mouth. It smells like snake, and the floor once again crunches under Regulus’s feet. 

Bones.

He doesn’t look down. 

Instead he lights his wand, holding it out in front of him. The tunnel stretches for a ways, but he can see where it opens up. That must be where the Basilisk sleeps and spends its time. He can feel the Basilisk behind him, hear it slither. It’s following, blocking his way out. Regulus clings to the idea that it won’t attack, but being so close to it with nowhere to go isn’t helping things. 

Finally, finally, he steps into a cavern. It’s large, but just large enough for the Basilisk to comfortably curl up. Regulus notices some discarded snake skins here and there, and thousands more rat bones. He looks around. Sees a door. 

A door? 

Solid and wooden, it’s ornate handle wrapped with a snake. A human door.

He crosses to it, and the Basilisk hisses threateningly. Regulus stops, turns. Can I go in? 

The Basilisk flicks its tail uncomfortably, not unlike a distressed cat, Regulus thinks. He turns back to the door. There's another snake, a tiny one, right on the top of the brass doorknob. Shaped into an S. Slytherin.
Was this your master’s old room?

Yes. 

Regulus aches to throw the door open. But he knows, at least in this case, it’s better to ask for permission than forgiveness .

Can I go in? He repeats.

Don’t ask me. The Basilisk says from behind him. 

Regulus takes a step forward. He feels a bit stupid, but he addresses the snakes on the door. Can I enter? 

The snakes come to life, slithering and winding around the doorknob. He thinks of those that guard Grimmauld Place.
What’s our secret? They hiss in unison. What do we hide?

Regulus turns to the Basilisk, at a loss. The Basilisk just tips its head, saying nothing. Waiting. This is up to Regulus. 

What do we hide? The snakes ask again. 

What was worth tucking way back here, in the bowels of the castle, as far from people as you could get? What did Slytherin want to protect so bad? What was so desperately sacred?

Regulus thinks back to an early conversation with the Basilisk. “What did your master want that he couldn’t have? ” 

Something tight burns in his stomach. Something all too familiar, all too consuming. A flash of chocolate eyes and glasses. He swallows. The sun.  

The snakes hiss, then turn and wind away. The door clicks, and Regulus reaches for the knob. Turns it slowly, hundreds of years of dust beneath his fingers. Behind him, the Basilisk stays silent. When he pushes the door open, the room behind it is dark. Regulus sends out a light spell, and an oil lamp and multiple candles all flicker then light in unison. He blinks, then looks around.
Everything’s covered in a thick layer of dust. There’s a bed in the corner with an ornate headboard. A desk against the wall, a chair, a basic rug. A bookshelf, bursting at the seams with titles. Pages liter the ground around the desk. All the furniture is outdated, severely so. 

On the far wall, a piano rests with its lid closed.

Regulus’s chest feels tight. This is big, bigger than him. Something great. Something huge. The weight of his discovery, of history , presses down on him. 

He turns to look at the Basilisk. It’s wonderful. 

I can smell him. For the first time, there’s emotion behind the Basilisk’s words. I haven’t smelt him in so long. 

To Regulus’s shock, a single wet tear slips out of the Basilisk’s swollen shut eye. It runs down its cheek and lands with a quiet drip on the floor. Regulus sucks in a breath. The Basilisk ducks its head. Thank you, little prince. 

And it’s just them, boy and snake, alone in a dark cave, the voices of the past circling them silently. 

When Regulus does turn and starts to explore, it’s the desk he goes to first. When he pulls open the drawer, he finds a journal. He brushes the dust off it and coughs. When he opens it, a letter falls out. He slips it into his pocket. He’ll read it later. 

The journal is written in tiny dark script, scribbles about potions and the castle. Regulus sets it on top of the desk. There was so much to read, to learn, but he had time. Just not right now. He should really be getting to bed soon, and besides, he’d be back.
He does look over the bookshelf before he goes. It’s work to pull himself away. It’s filled with books titled New Potion Techniques , and The Art of Non-Defensive Battle Spells . Dark magic. Something inside him hums, and he longs to reach out and touch. To read. 

He doesn’t.

With one last glance around, Regulus steps out of the room, closing the door. The Basilisk ducks its head slightly. You’re leaving. 

I’m sorry. I’ll be back. There’s a lot here for me to learn.

Why do you go, then? There’s a bitterness to its tone, one Regulus doesn’t expect. 

I have to. People don’t know I come. 

The Basilisk shakes its head. More secrets to hide down here. 

Like the sun?

Like Gryffindor.  

Regulus blinks. Gryffindor- he was Slyther- your master’s- secret? He was the sun?

He was his sun. 

…Oh. 

Sometimes, there’s really not much more to say. 

 

---

 

When Regulus unfolds the letter that night, tucked in his bed, he doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe a letter to Gryffindor, or the other founders, or something in that sense.
It wasn’t. 

 

Mother, 

I apologize for the late reply. Tensions at the school have been growing, and I fear the side I am representing may succumb soon. The others believe that this should be a place for everyone. I am trying to do what you told me, but they are resistant. Specifically Godric, though I suspect he will always be an issue one way or another. I don’t know how to change his, or any of their, minds. I have been careful, like you told me. I have a back up- something to take my place if I do need to go. She’s ready, and beautiful. You would love her, Mother. One day, she will succeed where I have failed and complete the task you gave me. But for now, she grows. 

I do not yet know if you will receive this letter while I am still at Hogwarts. Things are moving quickly. The way I see it, I may have to be out by the end of the week. I am sorry, Mother. I tried to do more.

Regards, 

Salazar

 

Regulus refolds the letter, reeling. “She’s ready”-  meaning the Basilisk. Was the Basilisk female? Regulus hadn’t asked. He probably should’ve. He’s had so much time. 

Not enough. 

Christmas break also meant sending James home with the first version of their potion. (Another thing he’d have to be careful to hide from the Dark Lord.) Regulus doesn’t let himself think about their recent conversation, James’s offer. He learned his lesson a long time ago. He was always going to be in that house, walking those halls. Sirius might’ve gotten out, but that wasn’t Regulus’s fate.

He was condemned.

And yet.

When James had agreed not to save him, something inside of Regulus wanted to beg him to take the words back. To keep going. To make an effort, when no one else will. 

When he himself can’t. 

Please.

Please.

Keep trying, James. 

Please.

Chapter 13: Almost Break

 

Regulus flies another loop around the pitch, scanning quickly. Around him, he can hear the cheers and chants of the spectators, but he does his best to block them out. He only has one job here today. 

Gryffindor players flit in and out of his peripheral, red against the blue of the sky. His brother’s somewhere among them, Regulus passed him earlier. James is too. 

So far, Slytherin’s losing. The gap’s growing, and Regulus can do nothing about it. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about being a seeker: you’re practically powerless for the majority of the game. He can’t do anything about the rest of his team’s evident stupidity. 

Regulus glances around again. He sees it, the glint of gold next to a goalpost, and then it's gone. He glances back at the middle of the field. Gryffindor’s seeker hadn’t even noticed.

Another Gryffindor goal. A cheer goes up from the stands. Regulus allows himself one look up towards the goal post. James is sailing away, triumphant and grinning. Regulus curses. 

He turns and continues his loop around the field. Another goal. He doesn’t look. 

As he flies past Mulciber grabs his arm and he stops, hovering next to him in the air. “What?” He hisses. 

“Gryffindor’s up too much. Even if we get the snitch points, we won’t win. But we can still move on in the rounds, if we don’t lose by too much. Do you fucking job.” Mulciber roughly shoves himself away from Regulus, soaring up and out. 

Bloody dick. Regulus already knew all that.

Regulus turns and looks around again. James makes another pass at the goal. The Gryffindor seeker is stationary high up, looking around. McKinnon, Regulus thinks. He can take her. 

McKinnon is doing slow circles with her broom, staring down. 

Sirius is to her left. To his chagrin, he spots the snitch at the same time as Regulus.

It’s there, hovering in the air in the middle of the field. Mckinnon’s close. Too close for this to be a fair fight. But she hasn’t seen it yet. Sirius shouts her name, all pretense of secrecy gone. He knows Regulus has clocked it. At this point, it’s a race.

Regulus turns his broom up, accelerating as quickly as possible, all speed and concentration. 

“It seems Regulus Black and Marlene McKinnon have spotted the snitch! It’s a test of speed- but Mckinnon is much closer.”

Regulus leans on his broom, spiraling upwards. He’s practically flying at a 90 degree angle, straight up. McKinnon is crouched over her broom, gaining speed. They’re heading for the same spot. 

“If Black gets this, Slytherin advances. If not, Gryffindor takes a staggering win, and Slytherin’s out of the running!”

Ten feet, five feet, four…

McKinnon reaches her hand out, fingers outstretched. It’s too close. 

But. 

At the last second, Regulus sees it. The flicker of wings signaling the change in direction. The snitch moves to the right sharply. Quickly.
Regulus throws himself to the side, swiftly changing course. The speed of the new angle takes the breath out of him.

“Black has changed directions!” 

McKinnon spins around as well, but it's a second too late. Regulus reaches out, fingers grazing the ball, then grasps it firmly in his fist. A sweep of bright relief runs through him.
He hears McKinnon shout a curse above him, and the Slytherin team cheer. 

“Black has got the snitch in an amazing display of instinct and response time! Gryffindor wins, but Slytherin is still in the running!”

He flies towards the ground, stumbling a bit on impact but straightening and holding the snitch up for everyone to see. Around him, other Slytherins land and congratulate him. He’s exhausted, but relieved.

Despite himself, amidst the Gryffindor celebration, he locks eyes with Sirius. He’s glaring, one hand on Mckinnon’s shoulder as she shakes her head and says something to her friend. She’s happy, obviously, but bitter. 

Good. 

Regulus raises one eyebrow at Sirius, who looks away. 

James doesn’t.

He’s blatantly watching Regulus, standing next to Sirius.

Regulus tries to send him a cool glance, but James doesn’t look mad like Sirius does. He grins, ear to ear, and nods at Regulus. Fucking nods at him.

It’s acceptance, it’s praise. Yeah, we won, but you did great. 

Regulus flushes and looks away. Now is not the time. 

Mulciber claps him on the shoulder and Regulus flinches. “Couldn’t have done that sooner?”

Regulus resists the urge to curse him. “Fuck off, Mulciber. Couldn’t have scored a few more points?”

Mulciber glares at him and opens his mouth, but Regulus just turns and walks away towards the changing rooms. He needs a shower, and a nap. 

 

---

 

James feels breathless with victory. The party that night is wild, music mixing with drunken shouts. They cast silencing charms on the common room, but it's not like McGonagall doesn’t know what’s happening. James suspects she just turns a blind eye. 

It feels good, to win. It always does, but James needed this. Needed a victory after these past weeks. He hasn’t stopped smiling since they left the pitch. 

Marlene is not having as good a time. “He fucking stole it right out from under me!” She’s sitting cross legged by the fire, Remus and Sirius on the couch above her. 

Mary pats her shoulder soothingly. “You still won the game! It doesn’t matter who caught the snitch.”

James plops down across from her with a breath. “Mary’s right. Just because Slytherin isn’t done for the year doesn’t take away from our victory. Enjoy yourself!”

“Ugh, you guys don’t get it. Yeah we won, but no one's thinking about that. They’re all thinking about how Black bested me in a race for the snitch, in which I had the advantage. ” She reaches back to point at Sirius. “Not to mention it was him who saw the snitch first, not me.”

Sirius grins and ruffles her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I have famously good eyes.” Next to him, Remus snorts. 

Unfortunately, she’s sort of right. James hasn’t been able to stop replaying the moment in his mind. The way Regulus’s eyes narrowed, the swift, smooth way he pivoted mid flight. The look on his face when he landed, breathless and triumphant. It was, for lack of a better word, amazing.

He doesn’t blame Marlene, though. Genuinely. “Not your fault, Marls. At that point he was still below you. It was easier for him.” A lie, but one Marlene needs to hear. 

“Yeah, I guess…” She trails off. “I don’t know. Anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not in the long run. Besides, one more day then it's a break. I feel like that deserves some celebration.” She makes her way to her feet, jogging off to go find some firewhisky. 

“Yeah,” Mary says, as Lily walks over and takes Marlene’s spot next to her. “I'm so ready to be home.”

James catches Remus’s imploring eye, and looks away. He knows what he wants. 

“Right,” James says awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Me too.” He avoids Remus’s gaze. “Anyone wanna dance?”

Ironically, it’s Sirius who jumps up from the couch.

 

---

 

The next day is Sunday, the last day before break. James wakes up with a pounding headache and a chest full of dread. He’s supposed to eat breakfast and then meet Regulus in the come and go room. 

Right- and tell Sirius about his father. 

He drags himself into the shower, resting his head against the wall. It’s not just Sirius he’s worried about. Embarrassingly, it’s seeing his father he’s dreading the most. As much as he begged McGonagall to let him visit, he’s scared. 

Intensely so.

He doesn’t know what he’ll find when he gets there, who he’ll find. He doesn’t want to see his father as anything but the man who raised him. He’s afraid of looking into his eyes and seeing only the disease, afraid of knowing no matter what he and Regulus do, it’ll be too late. 

When he gets out of the shower, his headache is only slightly better. He’s starting to think it has nothing to do with his hangover. 

Remus grabs his arm as he goes to get changed. “James. How are you feeling?”

“Fine? And yourself?” James tries for a smile. Remus’s frown deepens.

“Are you ready to go home tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to see… dad.”

Remus nods, looking him over. “James…”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know. Good luck.” 

When they make it to breakfast, James picks at his food, thinking about how much time he has between breakfast and meeting Regulus. Enough to visit the kitchens, maybe? He’s not entirely sure why, but this new habit of bringing food to meetings is important to continue, he feels. Some sort of stability in his life.

His thoughts are cut short when the mail comes in. The same owl swoops low, dropping not one but two letters. One for him.

One for Sirius. 

James’s breath catches. It’s from his mother. 

She always sends them together- except for that one time. 

He can’t open his letter, fingers gripping the paper tightly. All he can do is watch with bated breath as Sirius pries open the seam on his and unfolds the letter within. 

He can’t move, can’t breathe, just stares at Sirius’s eyes as they glance over the letter. Lazy at first, then more intense as he reads further. It’s because James is watching him so closely that he knows the moment Sirius realizes.

His eyes flick up from the letter, sharp and deadly, to meet James’s. 

For a minute, everything is silent. Two boys, staring at each other across the table. 

And then Sirius is throwing the letter down onto the table and standing up, shoving the bench back with a screech. James is on his feet too, calling his name, but it’s too late. He’s already leaving.

Peter starts to ask what’s going on, but Remus shushes him quickly. James nearly trips over the bench as he extricates himself quickly, jogging slightly to catch up with Sirius. “Sirius- wait!”

They make it into the hallway before Sirius rounds on him, fiery and mean. 

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Yes, I was, I swear to merlin-”

“Then why didn’t you tell me, James?” 

“I- I couldn’t- I don’t-” He’s stammering, and this isn’t at all how he wanted this to go. 

“How long have you known.”

“I-”

“No, James, how long have you known?”

“Four weeks.”

There’s more silence, and Sirius won’t even look at him. “Four weeks.” He laughs, bitter and lacking humor. “What’s wrong with him? Fleamont?”

“What? You don’t know?”

Sirius’s eyes flick down to the letter still clutched in James’s hand. He scoffs. “You didn’t even read it.”

James rips the letter open. He skims it quickly.

 

Dear James and Sirius, 

Fleamont has been moved home from Saint Mungoes. James, regarding your questions about his treatment, the doctors still haven’t made any progress. Fleamont appreciates your letters. He’s in his room now, and when you see him over break you’ll need to cast protective charms before you enter so there’s no chance of contagion. Sirius, love, as I’m sure James has already reassured you, this changes nothing about you living with us. You’re welcome forever and always. 

See you boys tomorrow, 

Effie

 

Oh. It doesn’t say, in the letter, what exactly’s wrong with Fleamont. Sirius still doesn’t know- not all of it. “Dragon Pox.” James nearly whispers the words.

Sirius turns away from him, shaky hand moving up to press over his eyes. “Dragon Pox.” 

Suddenly, he starts walking again, brisk and fast and away from James, who runs to catch up. 

“Sirius-” 

“Fuck off, Potter.” There’s danger in his words, fire. 

“Don’t ignore me. Talk to me, yell at me, hit me, but don’t ignore me, Sirius. Please .”

Sirius whirls on him, and James flinches back. “You want me to talk to you? Really.” He smiles, mean and pointed. “When did you decide to talk to me, James? When, in all the three weeks of time you had, did you decide to tell me that Fleamont was sick? With an incurable disease?”

James can't help himself. "Well, if you'll remember, the letter was addressed to me, so-"

"Oh, fuck off."

“Look, Sirius, I'm sorry-”

“No, you’re not. If you were sorry you would’ve told me, before I had to read it for myself.” Tears glitter in Sirius’s lashes, and James thinks about how long he spent crying after he first got the news. Sirius hasn’t even had the chance to break down yet. 

“I couldn’t. I should’ve. I didn’t want to.” He takes another step forward, and Sirius narrows his eyes and moves back. “I didn’t know how to deal with anything. I should’ve told you immediately, and I’m so so sorry-”

“I want one reason. I want one real reason you didn’t tell me.”

“I- I didn’t know how to.” I didn’t want to have to put you back together, again. I’m tired of being the only one who can. But of course, Sirius couldn’t know that. Sirius could never know that. 

Sirius stalks forward. “I care about him too, you know. I don’t deserve a lot of things, but I deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“I never pegged you as the selfish type, James.”

“I’m not-”

“Why is everyone around me a fucking coward?” Sirius takes another step. James thinks about the look on Regulus’s face when Sirius hurled those words at him not too long ago. He understands now. Knows how much it stings. 

“Four weeks.”

“I know.”

He’s right in front of James now. “Four weeks, and you never told me.” Sirius places both hands on James’s chest and shoves , not enough to hurt but enough to send him stumbling back. “You had every opportunity.”

“I know.”

Sirius glares at him, his expression twisting with disgust. He takes a step back. “I can’t even- I don’t want to see your face anymore. Stay the fuck away from me, James.” He shoulders past him, knocking into him a bit. James turns, watching him go. He should give him time. He should chase him down. He should wait. He takes a step, but there’s a pain in his chest, sharp and agonizing and it’s all he can do not to shatter into a million pieces, right there in the hall. 

Students begin to flood out of the doors behind him. Breakfast is over. James stays rooted to the spot. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and Remus hands him his bag. “Which way did he go?”

James can’t breathe. He nods down the hall, still unable to speak. If he speaks, he’ll have to breathe, and his ribs will crack, and all of his guts will spill out of him. So he keeps it in.

Remus nods, looking him over with pinched brows. “Ok, James.” The words come out as a sigh. “I’ll see you later.” He disappears into the crowd, down the hall after Sirius. 

James turns in a full circle, lost. He’s still finding it difficult to take actual breaths. What- what does he do? What’s the next step? What-

His grip tightens on his bag. He’s going to be late, and he has to find Regulus. 

 

---

 

Regulus knows something’s wrong the second James steps through the door. He’s not looking at him, slightly dazed, eyes unfocused. His fingers are gripping the strap on his bag so tight his knuckles are white. Regulus feels something twist in his stomach. “James?”

James looks up, eye’s locking onto Regulus’s. “Oh. Hey. Um- I didn’t-” He takes a shaky breath and Regulus instinctively moves forward. James opens his mouth again. “I didn’t get any bread pudding. I’m sorry.”

And then he sets his bag down and crosses to the table, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him up. He stares at the cauldron. Regulus finds his place beside him. 

“What happened?”

James can’t look at him, and Regulus resists the urge to force him, grab his chin and make him meet his eyes. 

“...Sirius.”

Something angry and hot burns through Regulus. “What did he do?” His voice comes out lower than he means it to. 

James takes a steadying breath. “No, he didn’t… I mean. He hardly touched me.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “He-”

“Regulus, he knows.” 

And- oh. 

Oh. 

Shit. 

“He knows?”

“Yeah. Shit. I shouldn’t have waited this long. I should’ve told him sooner.”

“What did he say?”

James shrugs, but Regulus notices the way his eyes glisten. “The usual. I’m sure you’ve heard it. I deserved it though, I should’ve told him.” Regulus longs to go find Sirius and make him apologize, repent, take back everything he’s said to James. Regulus can withstand it- all of Sirius’s fire. James is too close. James gets burned. Regulus can’t have that. 

The selfish part of Regulus wants to ask if Sirius knows about this, about their project, about him. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It’s not about that right now. 

“You’ll be ok.” He says, looking down. “If there’s one thing in this world Sirius actually loves, it’s you.”

James sucks in a breath. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Regulus thinks about the light in Sirius’s eyes when he came home after his first year and announced he’d made a friend. The memory tastes bitter. “Trust me.” 

“Is the potion ready?” James’s voice shakes. 

Regulus nods to the empty vial he’s prepared, waiting on the table. “I was about to bottle it up.”

“Yeah, good. Thank you, Reg, I don’t know how to say-” 

Regulus has to look away. “Focus on the potion, Potter.”

James picks up the vial, grabbing a ladle and trying to scoop it into the glass. After spilling a few drops, Regulus gently reaches out and takes both the ladle and vial from him. For the first time maybe ever, his hands are steadier than James’s. He starts filling up all five vials while James walks backwards and sinks down onto the couch. He stoppers them carefully, putting them into a small bag. He can’t help but pause, staring at the small jars he labored for weeks over. He’s putting a lot, his safety included, on the line for these; and they’re so unbearably light in his hands. 

He turns, crossing to James and handing him the bag. “Be careful. One every other day. Say whatever you need to to make him take it. Slip it into his food if you have to.”

James laughs, and some of the warmth returns to his eyes. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I have worked on these for four bloody weeks. You absolutely will do that if it comes down to it.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” James tightens up the drawstring pouch and looks up at Regulus from beneath his glasses. “By the way, that was amazing at the game the other day. With the snitch.”

Regulus pauses. “You aren't upset about it?”

“Why would I be? We won. And anyway- that was really impressive. I love Marlene, but you deserved that victory.” 

Regulus has to turn around and walk away to hide his flush, clumsily putting away supplies on the positions table. His heart is pounding. “I have to go. But make him drink that, James, and… I hope it works, for the record. Good luck with Sirius, too.”

James nods, wide eyes fixed on him. “Thank you, endlessly. Be careful, Reg. When you go home. Stay safe. We’ll reconvene when you get back. By the way, my offer is still open. About coming to mine.”

Regulus grabs his bag off the floor, and crosses to the door. He takes one last look at James. 

He has to start practicing, he tells himself. Keeping up his walls. Not lowering his defenses so easily.  

So he nods, just once, and steps out.

Regulus takes the sight of James, and the lab, and the potions in his hands, and he shoves them down deep. Somewhere even he can't find them.

There’s no room for them in the cold, dark corners of number twelve Grimmauld place. 

They’re much too warm for that.

Notes:

I see this as Sirius and James's first big fight like ever

(for now)

Chapter 14: Break pt. 1

Notes:

This is a shorter chapter, only 3k words or so. I'm trying to split both James and Regulus's break into two parts. So welcome to James!

Second update in two days is crazy

The ride home on the train is quiet. Remus is talking to him, so is Peter. Sirius is decidedly not. 

James tries to catch his eye, but never seems to manage it. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom multiple times, just to splash water on his face and take a few deep breaths. He wants to get off the train- but then again, it’s not like Sirius isn’t coming with him. 

He opens his bag again, just to make sure the vials are still there. There’s no insurance that they’ll work; but it's worth a shot. Anything is. 

At some point he goes and sits in the girl’s carriage. It's easier to talk to them, anyway. There’s no charged energy, no lingering guilt. 

He spends most of the ride with them. 

At one point, coming back from a frequent visit to the bathroom, James passes Regulus in the hall. He’s proper, aloof, and he barely looks at him. The epitome of a posh Slytherin prince. 

But for a second there, as they brush past each other, Regulus does look up and catch his eye. It’s an acknowledgement, if nothing else. James clings to it. One person that, despite what he claims, doesn’t hate him. 

When they arrive at the station, Effie’s there waiting. She hugs them both, and James melts into her. 

“Hey Mum,” He whispers. 

“Hi, James. We missed you.” She pulls back gently and smiles at Sirius. “Hello Sirius. How are you doing?”

Sirius gives her an attempted grin. “Well, you know.”

She nods, and James thinks she looks so tired. “Monty’s at the house. He’s so excited to see you both.”

“How’s he doing?” Sirius asks. 

Effie glances between them. “James hasn’t been updating you? We’ve been writing often, probably twice a week.”

Sirius shakes his head, and James stares at his shoes. He can’t bear to look at his mother right now. “He hasn’t, actually. Although, to his credit, it’d be a little difficult to give me all the updates considering I only found out Monty was sick yesterday.” 

Effie pauses. “James?”

“I’m… sorry, Mum. I didn’t tell him.”   

“What?”

“He didn’t tell me.” Sirius repeats, crosses his arms. “I had to find out from your letter.”

“Why not?" She sounds confused and James wants to curl into himself.

“I don’t know, Mum. I’m sorry.”

She heaves a bitter sigh. Puts a hand on Sirius's back. “Let's just get you two home. We’ll talk about it later.” 

 

---

 

The first time James sees his Dad, he has to make a conscious effort not to cry. He needs to be strong for him, the way he should’ve been for Sirius. There’s still time not to mess this up. 

“Hey Dad,” He says, sitting down next to the bed. 

Relief courses through him. Because Monty’s smiling, grinning, and his eyes look the same as they always do. There’s a green tinge to Monty’s cheeks, a hint of scales under his collar, but other than that, he looks alright. Relatively. He’s still himself, and that’s all that matters. 

“James! I’ve missed you. The doctors wouldn’t let you visit, though McGonagall wrote and said you tried. Very hard.”

“Yeah, she’s probably sick of me for a bit.”

Monty’s eyes crinkle. “It’s hard to be sick of you.”

James’s heart hurts. “How are you feeling?”

Monty’s grin falters a bit. “Tired, mostly. A little sluggish sometimes. It’s just the beginning though, so none of the actually awful things have set in yet.”

Yet.

Yet. 

Yet yet yet. 

“Keeping your grades up?”

James grimaces. In truth, his grades have been slipping recently. He’s been a little distracted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“James-” 

James cuts him off. He doesn't need a lecture. “Hey, I was doing some research, and I’ve… " There's no easy way to lead into it. James takes a deep breath. “I’ve been working on a cure, Dad.”

Monty blinks at him. “A cure.”

“Yeah. Well- not a cure, not yet, but it’ll slow it down. Hopefully.”

And then Monty throws his head back and laughs. James stares at him. “What?”

“I should’ve known. I should’ve known you wouldn’t let this go without a fight.”

James feels affronted. “Of course I won't!” 

“Right. James, James, Love, this is an incurable disease. The doctors themselves haven’t been able to do anything. Why do you think you suddenly can?”

“Because the doctors aren't looking in the right places! And there aren't enough of them on the case- since the disease is so rare, it's hardly researched. It’s not about curing it, or stopping it entirely.” To his surprise, Monty tips his head, indicating for James to continue. “As I’m sure you know, the disease works in levels, taking over one and then targeting the next. And so we’ve found a way, hopefully, to block the first layer. To protect it, kind of.”

“We?”

Shit. “Ah- me and… someone else.” Idiot.

Monty gives him a look. “We can come back to that.”

“Anyway, will you try it, just for a bit? There’s five vials, one every other day, and… and then we’ll see.”

"You're still in school. How do I know these won't poison me?"

"I didn't do the actual brewing. Or planning, really. And trust me, the person who did knows what they're doing. I'm confident. We've done tests."

Monty leans his head back against the pillow, and James swallows. He wants to hug him, to wrap his arms around him and tuck his head in his neck and never let go. 

His mother said he wasn’t allowed to touch him. 

“I love you, James, so so much. I love how you cling to the people in your life. I’ll take your potion, but I need you to know. If it doesn’t work, that’s alright. I’m trying to find peace with this, and you need to too. Don’t get your hopes up, is all I’m saying.” James thinks of Regulus. Monty shakes his head with a sad smile. “Knowing you, you already have.” He’s right- it’s far too late for that. "And I'll only start with one. I may be dying, but I don't feel the need to hurry the process along. If I feel anything bad I'll go to the doctor instantly."

James fishes out the bag of potions and puts it on the bedside table. “One more thing, Dad.” He fidgets with his hands nervously. “Can you maybe not mention this to Sirius? You can tell Mum, but only if you make sure she doesn't tell Sirius either.” More secrets. It’s never over. This one isn’t for himself, though. This is for Regulus. So… it’s different.

Right?

“Why?” Monty frowns. 

“I just- the person who I’m working on this with doesn’t want anyone to know. Sirius included.”

“That crosses off Remus, I suppose. And Lily. They’re both still close with Sirius, right?”

“It’s not Remus. Or Lily.”

“I won’t tell. But thank whoever it is for me, will you? It’s obvious you’ve both put a lot of thought and time into this.”

“I have. I will.” James looks down. 

“How do they know me? Can you tell me that much? Have we met?”

“Er- no. Fairly certain they don’t like you, actually.”

There’s a glint in Monty’s eye. “Ah.”

“What?”

“So it’s not me they’re doing this for, then.” He smiles. “It’s you.” 

James stares at him, silent for a moment. That wasn’t right- was it? A warm bud of gratitude and… something else blooms in his stomach. “I don’t… I don’t know about that.” But he can't keep a flush from creeping up his neck. He’s not even sure why , but it’s embarrassing nonetheless. 

Monty just keeps smiling, drinking in James face, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of it. James looks right on back. For the first time in his life, he wishes he didn’t ever have to go back to Hogwarts. He wants to spend all his time here, in this chair, next to this bed, talking to his father. Holding him here. 

His mother pokes her head in. “James, come on out. Why don’t you let Sirius come in for a bit. There'll be plenty of time for you two to catch up later.”

Right. James takes a deep breath, sending his father one last look. Monty opens up his bedside drawer and gently pushes the potions in it, shutting it after. He looks up at James and smiles again, slightly teary, the corners tinged green. 

James has to close his eyes against its force. 

 

---

 

In the kitchen, his mother hands him a mug of tea. He leans into it, inhaling deeply. The kitchen still smells of green cardamom and freshly cracked pepper. He’s missed it. 

“James,” She sets her own mug down. “You need to tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t tell him. I was going to, I promise, but I didn’t when… when I should’ve.” 

She’s watching him carefully, with that piercing look of hers. “Why not?” 

James thinks about lying. About telling her the same thing he’s told everyone. He takes a sip of chai, and decides he doesn’t have the energy for it.  Even so, it's difficult to get the words past the lump in his throat. “It’s my job to save Sirius. I did, already, but I’m still trying. From his parents, from himself. I fix him. If he breaks, I put him back together.” He chews his cheek. “He needs me. And I- I want to be needed. I’ll be there, no matter what. Always.” Always . “But it can be so- so draining.” His voice breaks on the last word. “And that shouldn’t matter. I should just move past that. That’s what a good friend would do. That’s what I do, for the most part.”

Effie keeps her eyes on him. He continues. “But I found out about Dad- and- I just couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy that I needed to- to deal with him- not when I was still trying to figure out how I was feeling myself. So I waited, and told myself I’d tell him when I was ready.” He shrugs. “Guess I never was.”

“Oh, Jamie,” His mum says, reaching out to brush his curls back. “I understand. But he did deserve to know. Even if you weren't there to help him through it. He had every right. And anyways, he has others, you know. Remus, Peter. You aren't solely responsible for him.”

James nods. He knows. He knows. But- “Why didn’t you tell him then? When you first sent that letter? Why didn’t he get one too?”

Effie grimaces. “I thought you’d tell him. And to be honest, I didn’t have the heart to transcribe it again. Even magically- I was having a rough day. I knew how much it’d hurt you to receive that letter. I didn’t want there to be two copies out there.” She smiles. “I see now that I should’ve. I just assumed you two shared everything, including this.”

James frowns. “We do. We did.”

“This is the only thing you’ve ever kept from him?”

James goes to nod before pausing. He’s good at lying, but sometimes he doesn’t need to. “Not- entirely. But the others aren't mine to tell.” 

She looks him over. He swallows. “I’m sure dad will tell you.”

Effie smiles and sets her empty mug in the sink. “I assume you’ve apologized to Sirius?”

“Many times.”

“Right.” She sighs. “Though I assume it’s hard to forgive when he still doesn’t know why you did it.”

James looks at her pleadingly. “But I can’t tell him, Mum, you know that. He’d feel like more of a burden than he already does.”

“I know.” She takes another drink from her mug. “I’ll talk to him- for now I’d give him space.”

James feels his heart sink. “Ok.” 

 

--- 

 

Dear Moony, 

How are you doing? It’s great that there’s no moon over break. Dad’s doing fine. Have you looked into your little wolf problem any more? I’m going to go to the library later and try to do some research. Pads and I still aren't talking, but we’re working on it. Have you told him yet? About your little issue? Also- you’re coming for new years, right? 

Your beloved, 

Prongs

 

---

 

Dear Prongs, 

I haven’t looked into it. I’m ignoring it. Don’t feel like you need to either. It’s nice that you’ve been able to actually see your dad- I was a little worried they’d keep him quarantined for longer. I’ve told Pads, yes. He’s as determined to find a solution as you. I told Peter too, and he suggested some sort of herbal medicine. I told him after the blister-solution he mixed up last month, I refuse to try any more of his concoctions. We both know how that went. Tasted bloody awful, too. I’m still coming for New Years if you’ll still have me. 

Thanks, 

Moony

 

---

 

Dear Moony, 

Always.

Yours forever, 

Prongs

 

---

 

The first time Sirius talks to him, it’s late at night and James is finishing up dishes from dinner. Everyone else has gone to bed. 

He hears the floor creak behind him and turns to see Sirius leaning up against the door frame. 

“Hey,” James says, drying a plate and then wiping his hands. 

“Hey.” Sirius looks down. “Effie says we should talk.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence. Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “If I ask why you didn’t tell me again, am I going to get a different answer?” 

“Probably not.” 

Sirius exhales. “Ok.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

"Why the fuck- I mean- I was so angry. Both you and Remus... anyway." Sirius shakes his head. "Effie wants us to make up, or something."

"So do I," James tries. "Please. I miss you."

They stare at each other. Sirius’s face cracks, just a bit. “Can I ask you something else then? Will you tell me the truth?”

“Course.”

“Is it- Is it because you thought it was a family matter and I didn’t need to know? That it wasn’t my business? It wasn’t my place to get involved?” 

James’s heart lurches. “No! No, of course not. Sirius, you’re a part of this family. I promise you. I should’ve told you immediately, but I didn’t know how to. I’m so sorry that I made you think- that that’s why.”

Sirius nods, and he blinks rapidly. “Ok,” He all but whispers. “Ok. I know you’re sorry."

"I am, really. I don't know how... I don't know how to tell you in a way you'll understand."

Sirius looks down. "No, I know. I've known. I shouldn’t have said that stuff. In the hall.”

“No, it’s fine. I deserved it.”

Sirius cracks a smile. “A little. Anyway; it’s not like you’re good at keeping secrets from me. I knew something was off these past few weeks.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“I did! I swear!” 

James flicks water at him, and Sirius pounces on him, tackling him to the ground. They’re both breathless and laughing by the time they roll off each other and lay side by side on the kitchen floor. 

There’s a moment’s silence. “I just want him to be ok,” Sirius whispers, and James sucks in a breath.

“Me too.”

“Will he? Will he be ok?” 

James shuts his eyes tightly, rests a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Yes. He will.” He remembers his Dad’s words. “We won’t let him go without a fight.” 

“Alphrad. Um. Alphrad died, two days ago.”

Shit. 

“Sirius, I’m so sorry. That's awful.” Next to him, he feels Sirius take a deep breath. When he looks over, he notices quiet tears running down his cheeks. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I lose them both. And oh god- now Moony too.” 

“They’ll both be fine.” James takes a breath. “When’s the funeral?”

“I’m- I’m not sure. I’m not sure I'm invited, either.” Sirius runs a hand over his face. “I was going to write- but I’m sure Reg already knows.” 

“Probably.”

More quiet. The motion light above them goes off. Total darkness. 

“This is my first break away from that place.” Sirius whispers. 

James forces himself to swallow. “He’ll be ok.”

“I don’t care if he is or isn't. He chose to stay, he can deal with the consequences.” Sirius’s words are angry, but there’s a hint of fear, buried deep. “It’s like I said- what, like a month ago? He’s fine. Remember when I used to come to school covered in bruises? His skin is clean.” 

Oh- oh no.  “What do you mean?” 

Sirius continues. “I told you. He let me take those punishments for him- and I’m starting to think I never needed to.”  

James thinks about the magic that flickers when Regulus gets distracted. The extra layer, the glamour. The sight of a bruise, there one second, gone the next. Sirius doesn’t know. How? 

Either way, it’s not James’s place to tell him. 

“I guess we’ll see,” He says softly. “When we get back to school.” 

“I guess so.” 

And just like that, James and Sirius are James and Sirius again. Nearly all traces of the fight are gone, except a slight lingering tension, hanging in the air around them.

They don’t talk about it. 

 

---

 

New year's eve comes and goes in a burst of light and laughter, and Monty takes the last potion. He gives the vial back to James and smiles. “I'll send you a letter. Tell you what the doctors say.”

“Right. Thank you, Dad.” 

When it’s time to go, James sits by his bed till the last possible second. He isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. 

It’s ok, he tells himself. If they do this right, he’ll never have to.

Silently, as he packs up his trunk, he wonders how Regulus’s break has been. 

The hopeful part of him wants it to be going well. 

The realistic part knows it's not. 

Notes:

So I know how to write angst, and I'm shit at fluff. That includes resolutions to arguments or comforting conversations, which made this chapter fairly hard to write. So, sorry if this was too quick a solution or too abrupt or something. I just can't see those two being mad at each other for too long.

I'm excited for the next one guys. I have a lot of free time rn so these updates should come relatively quickly. buckle up

Chapter 15: Break pt. 2

Notes:

this one is from Reg's pov, so per usual just a tw for semi-graphic child abuse.

This one’s a little rough coming from James’s chapter, but it’ll get slightly better after this one cause they go back to school

The oppressive silence is back, surrounding him. Thick as a poisonous fog. Regulus is already drowning, and it’s only been 15 minutes.

The table is long and black, cold to the touch. Regulus keeps his hands tucked in his lap. His parents frame him, one on either side. Evan, miraculously, is seated directly across from him. Barty is on Evan’s side, just a little ways down. No one speaks.  

On occasion, Regulus will catch Barty’s eye, and hold it for a minute. A familiar face. Regulus spends what feels like forever crafting the perfect expression, bored but respectful. Perfect for the Dark Lord’s entrance. 

The door slams open and he steps through, snake on his heels. He takes his place at the head of the table, surveying the group. Everything is silent. Regulus tries to stop his hand from shaking, he really does, but it’s determined. 

The snake slithers up on top of the table, thick body coiling and writhing in a way that makes Regulus sick. 

“My children,” The Dark Lord starts. “Thank you for gathering here today.” 

Regulus keeps his eyes on the table. 

“We have a lot to discuss- but first, everyone please welcome some new guests joining us today.” The Dark Lord tips his head to Evan and Barty, who go wide-eyed. 

“We’ve made great progress since our last meeting. Many more Mudbloods have fallen, including a target few at Beauxbatons. Our attack there was successful, and the ministry is further afraid. They know now this isn’t a war they can survive- we’ll come for their women and children too.” 

Regulus risks exchanging a glance with Evan. 

The Dark Lord continues. “We have spies in the ministry. Soon they will fall.” His eyes flick to Regulus, and the room grows darker. “Regulus Black.”

“Yes, my Lord?” His voice cracks a bit, but Regulus keeps his gaze steady. 

“Give us an update on your task.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus sees Evan furrow his brow. “I have made progress, my Lord, but- I'm not finished. I need more time.”

This was a simple task. The Dark Lord’s parseltongue is nothing like the Basilisks. After so many months hearing actual snakespeak, the Dark Lord’s sounds slimy and grating. Unnatural.

Regulus feels eyes on him. All eyes. 

I’m sorry, my Lord. He says. Across from him, Evan and Barty both flinch in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t look at them. He probably should've warned them about this. The Basilisk is resistant to spells, so I’m trying a different tactic. 

The Dark Lord narrows his eyes at him, and Regulus’s heartbeat picks up. Your parseltongue is better. You’ve been practicing. Have you been speaking with it?  

Regulus swallows. I…

And then the Dark Lord is raising his arm, wand flicking, and he’s inside Regulus’s head. 

It’s awful and violating, and Regulus can do nothing but slump forward slightly and concentrate. He knows what the Dark Lord is looking for, and he drags it just out of reach. It’s a chase- if he makes his memories with the basilisk hard to get, a little hidden, that’s where the Dark Lord will look first.  

And look he does, cracking them open and spreading them out, like intestines. Memories of the Basilisk flit by, conversations and statues and the cool comfort of the chamber. And he offers more and more, every little detail he can find, keeping the Dark Lord busy. Full.

Then the Dark Lord pulls back, drawing himself out of Regulus’s head with a sickening pain. Regulus lurches forward, desperately trying not to be sick, a bead of sweat dripping down his back. Evan’s eyes don’t move from Regulus’s face. 

You’re befriending it, the Dark Lord hisses. 

I’m… I’m gaining her trust. Regulus’s voice shakes. My Lord. he adds. 

Suddenly the Dark Lord lashes out with his wand, and a cut slices open on Regulus’s face. Right on his cheekbone. Regulus bites down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out. It’s not just his hand that’s shaking- it’s all of him, and he can do nothing to stop it. His mother and father stay facing forward, and Regulus doesn’t have to look at them to know they wear twin expressions of disappointment. 

That creature is not a “her”, not to you. The Dark Lord hisses. That is a thing that you must maim. You have one job, Black. Return the fangs to me. Keep the beast alive. It’s that simple. 

Blood wells and then tracks down his face like red tears. They collect on his chin. Yes my Lord. Of course. 

Regulus knows he can’t wipe his face. That would be a sign of weakness, and only punished further. He lets a drop of blood land in his lap. 

You have until the end of the school year. I am being entirely too generous. 

Of course. Thank you, My Lord. Regulus ducks his head, and another tear of blood runs down his cheek. It matches the red in his lungs and throat, spilling out his mouth and nose. He’s choking on it, and no one notices. How does no one notice? Surely he’s covered in it by now. 

He shuts his eyes and digs his nails into his palm. Focuses on the sting of the cut on his cheek, on the pain under his fingertips. Grounding himself. It hardly works, but it keeps him upright. Keeps him conscious. 

The Dark Lord moves on, discussing another attack they’ve planned, this time with the help of some Durmstrang students. If all goes well, it’ll leave another twenty dead. 

As he talks, Walburga finds Regulus’s knee under the table, digging her claws in until he jerks away. He’s smart enough to know what that means. She doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know why the Dark Lord’s angry, but she doesn’t need to. The whys aren’t important; not to her. 

Regulus meets Barty’s eyes, down the table, and holds them. Barty raises his eyebrows, almost imperceptibly. A silent question: are you ok? Regulus nods, making the motion as small as possible. 

He can feel the blood beginning to crust on his cheek. 

---

 

The trip home is silent. Even when they apparate onto Grimmauld Place’s doorstep, no one speaks. Regulus stumbles slightly upon landing, still a little weak from the Dark Lord’s trip into his mind. Walburga grabs his arm, yanking him upright harshly. 

Still, no sounds are made. Not until they get inside. 

As soon as they step through the door, Regulus is hit with a stinging curse. He flinches back hard, and Walburga stocks forwards. Orion crosses his arms and leans against the wall behind her. 

“From what I understand, you had a very simple task. That’s what it sounded like at the beginning of the year. Am I right?” 

Just say something, Regulus tells himself. Anything. Naturally, nothing comes out. 

“Am I right?” She repeats.

He forces himself to open his mouth. “Yes,” he croaks. 

“So why is it that the Dark Lord is displeased with your progress?” When she’s met with silence she steps forward. “Answer me, Regulus.”

“It’s taking longer than I thought,” He tries, although it won’t make a difference. “I’m sorry.”

“See, I thought that we’d agreed this was going to go smoothly. I thought you promised me that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Regulus just stares at her, beyond responding. 

“And yet, here you are, with this on your face.” Walburga hums lightly, running a soothing thumb over the cut and cupping his cheek lightly. He resists the urge to lean into her touch, relishing in the gentleness that keeps him where he is. She stands again. “I expected so much better from you, Regulus. I am so disappointed.”

He should be able to look her in the eyes. Sirius would be so ashamed, he thinks. “I’m sorry, Maman-”

“Dolor.”

He falls to his knees on the ground, lost. Dolor is a pain spell- not as bad as the cruciatus, but... enough. Someone in his head is screaming, loud and splitting. It’s not him, that much he knows. Sirius had been the screamer. Regulus always stayed silent, unable to make a sound, everything spiraling inside himself. Nothing allowed to escape. That much hasn’t changed. 

Someone is digging a knife into his chest and dragging it down, ripping through cartilage and muscle and organs. It’s pure agony, the simplest form of pain, it’s all consuming. Every breath is fire.

At least this is it, he thinks. His mother never curses him twice on the same night. (Except- no. He doesn't like to think about that.) She doesn’t want to break him- just teach him. Crucio is too far, too violent. Any other spells are also a little too drastic for her- they're reserved for special nights like these.

Sirius always got the worst of it, anyway. Regulus has always been the favorite child. 

When the spell fades, he’s trembling violently, left with a residual ache he knows won’t leave for hours. 

His mother kneels next to him, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness from before, the one that makes Regulus sick. “When you go back to school, you will complete this task. It will be your only focus. You will not fail again.”

He nods, and he knows there are tears mixing with the blood on his face. He wonders when that happened. He has no memory of crying. How embarrassing. She looks at him with disgust. “Ugh. You can’t even keep yourself together.”

He still can’t move, trembling too hard to even sit up. 

“Say it.” His mother murmurs, and Regulus is hit with a flash of deja vu, their conversation on the train platform on the first day of school still fresh in his mind. “Say you won’t fail again. I genuinely want what's best for you, Regulus. I need you here. we all do. The Dark Lord will not hesitate to take you from me if you don't follow through on this." 

He can’t speak- just shuts his eyes. 

She leaves him there. 

---

“Kreacher is going to get Master Regulus a glass of water,” the elf says, fingers nervously twisting his pillowcase sack. “Master Regulus should be getting himself to his bed.”

“Thank you Kreacher.” Regulus croaks, rising to his feet shakily. By some miracle, he makes it to the stairs.

It takes a long time for him to get up them.

When he gets to his room, he collapses into his bed. The hard mattress creaks uncomfortably beneath him. Kreacher appears a second later, setting a cup of water on his bedside table. “Kreacher would love to bring Master Regulus some dinner, but..."

“That’s ok, Kreacher.” Regulus says tiredly. “I don’t think I could keep anything down right now anyway.” 

Kreacher nods nervously. “Kreacher is sorry again, Master Regulus.” He shifts on his feet, and then, with one last apologetic look, disappears with a pop. 

For the first time in a while, Regulus is entirely alone. If Sirius were here- 

Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. 

Regulus turns his face into the pillow, gripping the sheets as tight as he can. Right then, his absence tears through Regulus like it hasn’t in a long time. He suddenly can’t breathe through his loneliness. Anger gives way to something deeper, and Regulus misses. His breath comes out gasping and desperate- and he can’t do anything but squeeze his eyes shut, sobs pressing at the back of his throat. He doesn’t let them out- but, God, does he choke. He despises him, hates his guts, but has never wanted him here as desperately as he does right now. He wants the sound of his God awful music to drift across the hall, wants him to poke his head into Regulus’s room, even if it’s just to flip him off. Wants to hear his footsteps on the stairs. Wants him to never speak to Regulus again, if it means he'll stay. Wants his presence, wants him here, with Regulus, in this house.

He doesn’t want to be alone. 

He wants his brother. 

Don’t leave me here.

Don’t do this to me. 

I’m sorry I let you leave. 

I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you to stay. 

And then, as he drifts off:

I miss you. 

 

---

 

The next day, every joint hurts. When he stumbles into the bathroom, something in the mirror catches his eye. It’s the blood from the cut on his cheek, still dried into tracks on his face. He hadn’t gotten it off the night before. 

He takes a towel and with shaky hands wipes it away to examine the damage. The cut is long, but not necessarily deep. If he’s lucky it won’t scar. He doesn’t use any healing spells, not yet.

Walburga had certain rules about these things- he was only allowed to heal injuries after she deems he’s learned his lesson. 

When he makes it down to breakfast, Orion spares him a glance over the top of his newspaper. “You’re up late.”

“Sorry.” Regulus whispers. The words are crusted on his tongue. 

Orion says nothing, just snaps his newspaper, going back to reading.

Walburga enters, sitting down neatly. Kreacher appears with a pop and sets a soft boiled egg in a silver egg holder in front of her. 

Regulus gets one too. 

“Your face might scar.” She says, picking up her spoon. “Do not heal it. Not until the cut is fully closed.” She looks up at him sharply. “I assume you’ve been keeping up with the glamour I taught you? The disillusionment charm?”

“Yes,” He nods. “I can do that.”

“Good. Keep it covered. We don’t need that oaf Dumbledore asking questions.”

Regulus says nothing, watching her strike into the top of her egg. 

“I hope he’s first on the Dark Lord’s execution list when we win this war.” She digs her spoon into the egg, shell cracking, and a swell of yolk drips out and down its side. It’s sticky and dull, dripping onto the plate. 

“I’m sure he will be. He’s high profile.” Orion says. Walburga carves off the top of the egg, exposing the white of its flesh. Regulus doesn’t take his eyes away, even as she twists her spoon inside, lifting a gelatinous chunk to her mouth and taking a dainty bite. 

“I hope so,” She sighs. 

Regulus pushes his egg away. He’s lost his appetite. 

 

---

 

When Regulus leaves the house next, it’s to visit Barty and Evan. Dorcas is supposed to join them: they sent her a letter with a park address and time. Regulus sent one to Pandora as well, but she was out of the country with her family. He sits under a tree, and tilts his head back, soaking up the light. He hasn’t been outside in days. 

Barty accosts him first, the second he and Evan arrive. “What the fuck, Reg?” His voice is a hushed whisper. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Regulus blinks at him. 

Barty nearly growls. “You’re a parselmouth? You’re on a mission from the Dark Lord? You absolute bloody wanker-”

Evan cuts him off with a pointed look. “Regulus, are you ok?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Evan narrows his eyes. “Your cheek- did you use a healing spell? It’s all gone.”

“Yes.” 

“Can we get back to the secret mission thing please?” Barty asks desperately, plopping himself down in the grass. Evan sighs, then joins him. 

Regulus glances between them, cool. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Why don’t we start with what you’re up to, then we can get to you being able to talk to snakes.”

Just then, Dorcas joins them, throwing her arms around Barty from behind. He jumps and she laughs, and Regulus finds himself relaxing into the sound. She leans down and kisses him on the cheek. Regulus tries not to wince.

“Hey Dorcas,” Barty starts. Evan shoots him a warning look, which he ignores. It’s fine. Regulus is beyond caring. “Did you know Reg here is a parselmouth?”

Dorcas stares at Regulus. “What?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention that to you as well did he? Funny.” Barty crosses his arms. 

“Are you really?” Dorcas asks.

Regulus nods, watching her through heavy lids. 

"What?"

"It's true. We heard it."

"What?"

Regulus just stares at her. 

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah. Say something in snake.”

“I don’t feel the need to do that.”

“Just do it.”

I've missed the sun. He enjoys the look on her face for a moment. 

“Oh my god.” Dorcas stares at him. 

Evan frowns at him. “What did you say?”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

“Wait- how long have you known you could do this?” Dorcas’s mouth is still slightly open. 

“A while.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” 

“I didn’t need to.”

Dorcas glares at him. “Regulus Black.” 

“So what’s the secret mission then?” Barty asks, leaning forward.

Regulus just sends him a look.

Barty rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell us. Is that why you’ve been so weird these past months?”

“Wait- secret mission? Guys, what’s going on?” Dorcas looks between them, utterly confused. 

Evan sighs, then turns and starts to explain. 

Regulus closes his eyes and misses Pandora. 

 

---

 

When he comes back, his mother is waiting with crossed arms. He can feel the weight of the house settle on his shoulders the second he passes the threshold. 

“You’re too distracted.”

“What?”

“It’s why you haven’t been able to succeed in your task yet. You’re too distracted.”

Regulus frowns. “I’m not sure that’s it.”

“When the Dark Lord entered your mind, you were weak. You could do nothing.” She takes a step forward. “What do you know of occlumency?”

“A little. I know the basics, how to block my mind, how to hide certain things.” He doesn’t tell her about the hours he's spent reading, consuming every book in the Hogwarts library. So did Sirius, before he left. He hasn’t practiced much beyond rearranging memories.

Really, he should've been expecting it. He wasn't.

Suddenly he’s on his knees, and she's inside his head, digging and searching, violently tearing through memories as she goes. He has no time to distract her with a false lure, like he did with the Dark Lord. It’s too late for that. So he finds the memories he doesn't want her to see, the warm ones, and clings to them. Drags them down. Pulls them under. 

And for a moment, he thinks he’s safe. He thinks he’s managed it. But those weren’t the memories she was going for, and now, for the lack of a better word, he’s fucked. 

She gets her claws in and yanks, and Regulus is flooded with memory. He’s crawling on his knees to Sirius, lying unconscious on a blood soaked rug. Whispering meaningless words, trying to pick him up. Commanding Kreacher to leave his room. Hands running over bloody clothes, rising panic. Healing spells falling from his lips like prayers.

Regulus feels Walburga’s disgust and disapproval wash over him, and foolishly, he tries to fight back. Pushing against her presence in his mind, attempting to block it out. It doesn’t work. 

She’s got something else now, more recent, a fresh one. Regulus in his bed, holding back tears and missing his brother. He feels her inspect the memory, turning it over, examining it.

It hurts. 

He shoves with all his might, and finally, finally, Walburga retreats. She pulls back, and Regulus lurches, feeling like he might be sick. Again. He’s left empty and raw and disgusting.

He’s shaking, but then, what else is new? Walburga is watching him, and Regulus can feel her fury, emanating off her in waves.  

“So it’s him that’s been distracting you. He’s a traitor, Regulus. You were to wipe all fake goodwill he tricked you into having out of your mind. You do not love him. You do not miss him. You are the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Toujours Pur. You can not hold sympathy for a dirty muggle-lover.”

“I know. I hate him. I hate him, Maman.” And it’s not hard to say. It comes easy, easy and true. 

Her gaze cuts through him. “Not enough. Come with me. Nous verrons à quel point tu le détestes vraiment.”

And it’s fine, he can do this. He gets up, stumbles a bit, but follows her. Up the stairs. Into the spare guest room. Regulus’s heart sinks. He’s been here before.

She used to make both Sirius and Regulus do this as kids. To test them, to understand them- or that’s what she said, anyway. They both knew what she actually got out of it: it taught her how to hurt them the most. 

There’s a cabinet, against the wall. Dark mahogany, rattling slightly. A bogart. 

Regulus shuts his eyes. Walburga spares him a glance. “Eyes open. Watch, Regulus.” 

She walks to the cabinet, making sure he’s looking, before she throws open the door. And Regulus wants to look away, punishment be damned. He wants to- but that’s not how this works. 

Sirius’s dead corpse, bloody and rotten, tumbles out of the cabinet and lands on the hardwood floor with a wet flop. Regulus' stomach lurches. Sirius’s eyes are open, staring at the ceiling lifelessly. There’s something slightly wrong about his face, it’s a little too bloated, a little too stiff.

Walburga had slowly stopped this exercise as the kids got older. It wasn’t that productive for her- they always stayed the same. But for Sirius and Regulus, well. It never got easier, seeing each other’s corpses. 

Until last year. When the cabinet opened for Regulus, Sirius' dead body appeared and Walburga had tutted disapprovingly. Regulus had vanished it as quickly as possible, not looking at his brother. But when it was Sirius’s turn, it was a lifeless James Potter that tumbled out, rotting and bloated. Walburga had screamed something about muggle-lovers, Sirius had been sick on the floor, and Regulus had excused himself quietly.

Now, Regulus pulls out his wand. ‘“Riddikulus!” The bogart vanishes back into the cabinet, and the doors shut with a slam. Walburga is staring at him, with no expression. He can feel his heartbeat, like a stopwatch. 

And then she’s surging forward and grabbing his arm, disapparating and reappearing in the kitchen. When she speaks, it's an angry hiss.

“You still care for him. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, you still care.” 

Regulus swallows, tips up his chin. He knows what’s coming. 

"He left us, Regulus. He wasn’t strong enough for this life. He left you."

"I know."

"We stayed. Your father and I, we stayed. We're still here. We're who your loyalties should lie with."

"They do, Maman, I promise."

Her gaze softens. "I know." She lifts a hand, brushes his hair away from his face. "But if you’re still loyal to someone who’s a muggle sympathizer, it’s only fair you face a muggle punishment. Sleeve.”

He keeps his lips pressed tight, but rolls up his left sleeve all the way to his shoulder. It’s nothing new- but it has been a while. A long while. Oh well. 

When he goes to bed that night, he has to sleep on his right side. 

 

Notes:

In all of the fics i've read, Regulus only hates Sirius or is angry at him for leaving. And while I think that's very true and my version of Reg also primarily feels that, its also natural for a 16 year old to just really miss his brother- even if they were never good terms while he was still there

And it being Regulus's first break back without him, I thought he'd feel that absence a little more than normal

Nous verrons à quel point tu le détestes vraiment: we will see how much you really hate him

Chapter 16: Tea

Regulus takes his place by the window quietly. Pandora sits next to him after a second, and the others pile in behind her. 

He’s so tired. 

So desperately tired. 

Pandora nudges him gently. He lifts his head to look at her. “Hey,” She starts. “We’re going to school now.”

He nods at her, a little confused. She rolls her eyes, but smiles. “You’re leaving them behind, Regulus. So leave them behind.” Outside, the trees whip by. 

Pandora’s words crawl into his chest and warm it slightly. “Ok,” he whispers softly. 

“Hey Dora,” Barty jumps in. “did you know Reg was a-” Evan elbows him sharply, and Barty yelps, but lowers his voice to a whisper. “Parselmouth?”

Pandora glances between them. “You didn’t?”

“You told her, but not us?” Barty looks up at Regulus, betrayed. Regulus tries not to smile. 

“I didn’t tell her.”

Pandora leans back into the seat. “I thought it was rather obvious.”  

 

---

 

When James gets to the Come and Go room, he’s alone. Early; for the first time ever. He takes a seat on a couch, and waits. 

The trip back was easy enough. He and Sirius are talking, which helps. It’s still a little frosty, just a bit, but they ignore it. That’s the way it’s always been. 

James runs a hand through his hair. 

The door handle turns, and Regulus steps through. Despite his usually pale complexion, he looks sickly. There are dark circles under his eyes. He pauses on the threshold, staring at James, who stands up. 

“Hey Reg,” He starts. “How was your break?” He sees the answer in Regulus’ eyes, but he lets him lie. 

“...Fine.” Regulus takes a breath. “You?”

“It was good. It was… good. I saw dad.” Something catches in James’s mind. An inconsistency. “Are you using glamour right now?”

Regulus shuts his eyes, still not moving from the door. When he doesn’t say anything, James tries again. “Reg?”

Regulus takes a step in, and shuts the door. His skin flickers, and the disillusionment charm vanishes. There's a cut, long and deep and only barely scabbed over, high on his cheek. 

James forces himself to take deep breaths. When he looks at Regulus, he sees Sirius, and all the times he came back to school covered in bruises. All the times James couldn’t protect him. 

“What happened?” 

Regulus’s face is blank. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“But they didn’t- they didn’t find out about this? Us?” 

Regulus smiles at the ground, but it lacks humor. It’s more of a grimace. “No. We’re fine.”

James breathes a little sigh of relief. “Why haven’t you healed it? Do you want help?”

Regulus’s eyes glint. “You really think I couldn’t manage a healing spell by myself?” 

“I mean, last time…”

“Potter.” 

James tips his head, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Ok, you don’t need my help." He tips his head. "…But why haven’t you healed it?” 

Regulus looks up, holding James’s gaze. There’s conflict in his eyes, a little cloudy. The rest of his face is fully devoid of emotion, wiped clean. He seems to come to a decision.“I’m not allowed to.”

And. 

Ok.

James has to walk away. Fully turning and pacing the room, focusing on his breathing. “Okay,” he says on an exhale. “Okay. What do you mean you’re not allowed to?”

“I’m not allowed to heal myself. Not yet. She’ll know if I do.”

James clenches his fists, then unclenches them. Tries to calm himself down. “Why not?”

“I haven’t learned my lesson yet. That would be taking the easy way out.” There’s an eerie calm to Regulus’s voice; like still water, waiting for the rock to send ripples across its surface. Beyond feelings- beyond caring. 

James isn’t an angry person. Not really. But there's a cold sort of fury that slices through his veins and descends upon him when he’s faced with Walburga’s handiwork. When Sirius was on their couch, Effie frantically patching him up, James had to squeeze Sirius’s hand hard just to keep the anger down. It was all consuming; the need for her to repent, to hurt her as she hurt, to punish her. It burnt through him, leaving a scorched trail of his human decency behind. James hated how helpless he felt against her. The weakness made him more angry, and thus started the vicious cycle.

So, no. James isn’t an angry person. Unless it comes to Walburga Black and Orion Black.

“Reg, you should be allowed to heal your wounds.” 

“How’s your father? Did the potion have any effect? I imagine-”

“Regulus.”

“-it wouldn’t, because it’ll need time to set into the muscle. How’d you get him to agree?”

James rubs a pained hand across his forehead. Maybe, just maybe, this was Regulus’s way of telling James what he needed. Letting him know how he can help. He needs a distraction. James can do that much. So… “He’s ok. Weak. He took the potion to make me happy, I guess. It didn’t have any effect yet.”

Regulus nods. “We’ll work on it.” A pause. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know to come to me? I mean, in the first place? How did you know I was… apt at potions?”

James shrugs. “Lily.”

He can’t interpret the look that flashes across Regulus' face. His eyebrows draw together. “How did she know?”

“She went to a Slug Club dinner, and you were there. Apparently Slughorn told her she was his second best student. When she asked who was his first, he told her it was you.”

Regulus frowns. “I remember that, vaguely. She looked upset.”

James laughs, picturing her irritated expression when she’d come back to the common room that night. It was, admittedly, very cute. “Yeah. She was not happy. She worked hard for that spot, you know. Potions is her favorite subject.” He smiles. “I guess you two have that in common.”

“Potions is not my favorite subject.” Regulus says quietly. 

“Oh?”

“History.”

James rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known. That would make Lily even madder, you know.”

Regulus crosses his arms. “How so?”

“You’re the best in a subject that’s not even your favorite. You don’t enjoy it as much as she does- yet you're still better.”

“Enjoying a subject doesn’t make you good at it.”

“Ah, but it helps. And she loves potions. She’s top in our class in everything, potions included, but your top in the school. That’s why I found you.”

“Right.” Regulus stares at him then blinks, and looks back at the table. “I had some ideas over break. For the next stage, provided this one works.” He starts to sort ingredients. 

James watches him for a moment, then moves to help him. They talk comfortably, all past conversations forgotten. It’s quiet, gentle. Easy. 

And when Regulus’s shaking hands knock over a few vials, James pretends not to notice. 

 

---

 

Regulus is furious. At Slughorn, specifically. When he’d asked to transfer out of Astronomy, Slughorn simply moved him to the next level up. That was not at all what he wanted. 

But here he is, standing in the doorway of a classroom, staring at a bunch of sixth years. He gives them his best slightly distasteful expression. 

Professor Sinistra glides over to him. “Mr. Black. Welcome. It’s an honor to have you in my class, I’ve heard great things.” She looks him up and down. “With your legacy, I expect great things.” 

After glancing around the classroom, she points him to an empty seat. “There, take that one, Mr. Black. Next to Mr. Lupin there. Just for now, while we’re still in the classroom. Though I suppose once we move to the astronomy tower you’ll share a telescope too.”

Regulus considers cursing her, cursing Lupin, then walking out. Maybe finding Slughorn and cursing him too. He takes his seat instead, not looking at the boy next to him.

He hears Lupin chuckle. “This is going to be fun,” he mutters. Regulus ignores him. 

Professor Sinistra turned her silver eyes on him. “Mr. Black, are you completely caught up on the 5th year syllabus and ready to progress with the rest of the 6th years?” 

“Yes, Professor.” And the 6th year syllabus, and the 7th…

“Perfect. I believe today we are reviewing constellations.” 

It takes effort to not bang his head on the desk. Lupin smirks. “Why are you here? Even Sirius tested out last year, but McGonagal let him drop the subject entirely.” 

“Slughorn seems to have misunderstood my request,” Regulus mutters. “That or he doesn’t understand the Nobel House of Black very well.”

“In his defense, few do.” 

Regulus opts to stay silent. 

Sinistra writes something on the board.“Does anyone know the Cetus constellation?” 

Regulus refuses to raise his hand, just on principle. Sinistra locks her eyes on him, but luckily somebody else answers before he has to. 

“How was your break?” Lupin whispers. Regulus wishes people would stop asking that. 

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Talk.”

“Oh, thank God.”

They go silent as Sinistra reads out some very simple instructions, making sure to explain each one carefully. In Regulus’s peripheral, Lupin tips his head slightly. “But you should know, Sirius is starting to get suspicious.”

That makes Regulus involuntarily jerk a bit. “About?”

“Whatever you do on the second floor late at night.” Lupin pauses as Sinistra drifts by their table handing out worksheets. “I have my own hypotheses about that, though I haven’t shared them with him.”

Regulus grits his teeth, attempting to focus on his paper. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve still got that pesky little curse on me.” 

Regulus had forgotten about that. Once again he thanks his past self. “So, you’ve told them the rest then?”

“What?”

Regulus waits a beat when Sinistra looks over at them. He leans over slightly, so he can whisper. “Earlier, your reason would’ve been simple blackmail. Now, when I ask why you haven’t told them, your first instinct is the curse. Which means the issue is no longer about the content of the information but instead the method of relaying it.” 

“Sirius mentioned you were smart.”

“I don’t care what Sirius says. What are your hypotheses?”

“Something about what happened in the library, you know- with the book.” He would say the word Basilisk, Regulus knows, but the curse prevents him. 

“Right.” 

They go quiet, and Regulus starts thinking. He’d need to be more careful, especially with Lupin so close to the truth. He knows- or will, soon. Regulus can feel the Dark Lord’s eyes on him. He doesn’t have time to be so reckless. What would his mother say? Honestly- what would his mother do ? 

He’ll need to switch up his schedule, rearrange it a bit, but that’s doable. Everything’s still under control. He tries to take a deep breath, but it shakes a bit on the exhale.  

He can feel Lupin’s gaze on him, but he ignores it, staring straight ahead. He pushes the worksheet away from him.

He finished five minutes ago.

 

---

 

Regulus sits on Slytherin’s bed, leafing through the journal. The Basilisk lays in its sleep chamber, head resting on the floor of Slytherin’s room through the door. 

Mostly it’s a diary, Slytherins day-to-day routine. Sort of boring, but sort of fascinating, really. 

The Basilisk hisses softly. Anything of interest?

Everything. Regulus flips another page. I won’t be able to come tomorrow. 

Why not?

Dumbledore has asked to meet with me. Again. 

My boy did not like Dumbledore. 

Regulus looks up at her then. Your boy… the one who did that to you? He nods to the scar on the Basilisk’s cheek. What did you call him? 

Tom Riddle.

Regulus nods. He touches his own cheek faintly, runs his hand over the cut there. They match now. I might have to agree with him , he says. I’m not too fond of Dumbledore myself. 

What does he want?

For me to be a spy. To work with him, feed him my family's secrets. The Dark Lord’s secrets. 

The Basilisk flicks her forked tongue. You are loyal to your Lord. 

I- yes. The words feel dirty, somehow. Disgusting. They taste like guilt, but Regulus spits them out anyway. I am. I have to be. 

What secrets does he want? 

The Dark Lord’s plans. 

The snake lifts her head slightly. What are those? 

Regulus stares at the Basilisk, a surge of sharp pain tearing through his chest. Twisting in his gut. I don’t know. 

Would Dumbledore hurt you? 

No. 

The snake moves its head in what might be a nod. Would your Dark Lord hurt you? 

Regulus touches his cheek again, feels the raised skin, the sting of pain. Yes . He lets his hand drop. But I  am loyal.  

Out of fear.

Regulus puts down the journal . Out of respect, and intelligence. 

He hurts you. 

Only-

Your face. Your body. He hurts you. 

Regulus shakes his head quickly, his hands starting to tremble again. Only when she needs to. 

There’s silence for a moment, and Regulus realizes what he’s said.

He stands up quickly, brushing off his clothes. There’s dust everywhere the room, and it clings to its inhabitants the second they enter. He picks up the journal, walking to the desk to put it down. I have to go. 

No, you don’t. 

I want to go, then. 

The Basilisk lifts her head. To see your sun? 

I have no sun. 

Like my master- like Gryffindor. You have a sun. 

Regulus needs to get out of here. He puts the book in the drawer and shuts it quickly, turning around. He walks out of the room, down the tunnel. Through the chamber, matching his breaths with his steps. He can hear the Basilisk following, waiting to be granted sight. 

He pauses at the door, turning to look at it, raising his wand. And for the first time, the Basilisk ducks its head, looking away. Regulus draws a sharp intake of breath.

She’s shielding him. When he casts the counter curse, the Basilisk won’t be looking at him. He’ll be safe. She’s protecting him- and the weight of that realization hits Regulus in the stomach like a bludger. 

He shudders, and raises his wand. This is the test, he realizes. If he heals her and she doesn’t look at him, she no longer wishes to harm him. She trusts him. 

So this time, he stands tall. He doesn’t turn away, or shield his eyes. He stares at the back of the Basilisk’s neck, wand raised. “Oculus.”

He can tell the Basilisk's eyes heal, but she doesn’t turn around. He swallows. Thank you, he whispers. His throat feels tight. Slowly, he backs up, stepping through the door and closing it behind him. 

 

---

 

Dumbledore sets down a pot of tea in front of Regulus. “I’d like to apologize.”

Regulus stares at him. Dumbledore sets out two cups. “Intercepting your mail was the wrong way to approach that situation.” He reaches into the top drawer of the desk and pulls out the letter, handing it to Regulus. He takes it gingerly, keeping his eyes on Dumbledore. “Thank you.”

“Upon reflection I’ve also asked the house-elves to no longer watch the Slytherin common room.” Dumbledore’s gentle smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. He closes the drawer and then pours out the tea, pushing Regulus’s cup across the table to him.

“I would hope you can appreciate my reasons for doing so,” Dumbledore says, taking a sip. “In these times-”

“In what times?” Regulus cuts in, momentarily forgetting his manners. “You keep saying these times, but what do you mean? Because you never tell the students anything.” 

“Connection to Voldemort or no, you’re involved in your family’s business enough to know what times I’m referring to.” 

Regulus stays silent. 

“As I was saying, in these times it's crucial to be on edge, constantly vigilant. While intercepting a student's mail might not be the best way to go about that, I need to protect the greater good.” Something flashes across Dumbledore's face at those words. 

“Why did you choose my mail, then?” Regulus picks up his cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. He takes a sip and sits back a bit in his chair. “Why not anyone else in Slytherin?”

Dumbledore doesn’t blink. “To put it simply: the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It has a reputation. A few of your family members are known death eaters and currently sought after by the Ministry.”

Regulus, unfortunately, can’t fault that logic. “What about Beauxbatons? How do we know that won’t happen here?”

“I believe Voldemort has supporters here, among the students.” Dumbledore’s gaze cuts through Regulus. “I don’t believe he’d harm those that love him. Not if they are still of any use to him.” Dumbledore shakes his head. “But to discuss politics is not why I’ve called you here today. It’s as I said: I just wanted to apologize, Mr. Black. What I did was invasive and wrong.”

Regulus nods cautiously, taking a careful sip of his tea. He doesn’t trust his apology at all. There’s something very wrong about all of this- but he can’t put his finger on it. Is Dumbledore being genuine? Or is he just waiting for the right moment to strike?

“I do have just one question, Mr. Black.” Dumbledore folds his arms. Somewhere, a clock ticks, and Regulus waits. “Have you met Voldemort personally?”

“Yes.” The answer is pulled from his throat, a choking gasp, and Regulus can’t stop it. Doesn’t even have time to think. He realizes what’s happened a second too late. His brain is all panic, grappling for some self control. He stands quickly, dropping the mug and hearing it shatter on the ground at his feet.

Dumbledore leans across the table. “Have you spoken? Has he given you instructions?”

Regulus moves to clap a hand over his mouth, but it’s too late. “Yes, we have.” And, “Yes, he has.” Again, the words are ripped from him with no choice. 

He covers his ears and backs up quickly. He can’t breathe- can’t think. 

Fuck. 

The tea.

It must be. 

He stares in horror at the shattered pieces on the floor.

Regulus knows the feeling well. It’s a little too familiar. Nights spent hunched at the dining room table, answers getting torn from his chest like organs. 

Veritaserum.

Notes:

Now that the Basilisk officially trusts/likes Regulus enough not to eat him, what does that mean for his little mission?

Chapter 17: Weather

Notes:

Eh I can't tell how I feel about this one
It's late rn, and I might re read it tmrw and decide its not good enough and take it down

Dumbledore stays seated calmly at his desk, but Regulus nearly trips over himself in an attempt to get away from him. “Mr. Black-”

“Stop.” Regulus presses his hands tighter over his ears. 

“Is Sirius at all still loyal to the Black Family?”

“No.” Regulus grits out. He needs to get out of here. 

“I order you to stay in this room, Mr. Black.”

Regulus glares at him, ignoring the terror swirling just behind his anger. “Fuck you.”

Dumbledore seems unfazed. “What were the orders Voldemort gave you?”

Regulus reaches the door and throws it open desperately. Hand moving to cover his mouth in an attempt to jumble his words. He slips out of the office just as they leave his lips.

“I have to gather the Basilisk’s fangs without killing it.” He hopes they were unintelligible enough to be worthless. He can’t be certain Dumbledore didn’t hear, but he can pray. 

“Mr. Black!” Dumbledore calls after him, but he’s already running. 

 

---

 

When James checks the map next, it’s to find Sirius. They’re supposed to have Quidditch practice in twenty minutes, and he’s nowhere to be found. He finds his name eventually, in the charms classroom with Moony. James sighs. He’ll leave them to it. 

Before he closes the map, though, he looks for another name. It’s a subconscious habit he’s picked up recently; just checking Regulus’s whereabouts quickly. There’s no reason for it- just something instinctual. 

But Regulus’s name isn’t on the map. Which would be odd for anyone else, but James has learned by now that just means he’s in the Come and Go room. But they aren't scheduled to meet until tomorrow, which means Regulus is there on his own accord.
James frowns. Quidditch practice can wait; he’ll just be a tad late. This feels more important, somehow. 

When he opens the door to the Come and Go room, he finds Regulus curled up on the couch, knees drawn to his chest. He looks up sharply when James enters. 

“Hey,” Regulus says quietly. 

“Hi. What are you doing here? I thought we weren't supposed to meet until tomorrow?”

“Dumbledore spiked my tea with Veritaserum. I’m waiting in here until the effects fade.”

“What?” James hisses, a sudden flash of anger spiking through him.  He lets his bag fall off his shoulder to the floor. “He spiked your tea?”

“Yes.” Regulus avoids his eyes. 

“Reg, that's awful. We have to do something, go to Mcgonangal or Slughorn or someone-”

“There’s no point.” 

James rubs his hands over his eyes, frustrated. “There is a point. He can’t go around poisoning students-”

“Yes, he can.”

James sighs. Decides to deal with it later. “Why haven’t you made an antidote yet?”

“I don’t know how. I could figure it out, but I’d be using the ingredients we’re saving for your dad’s cure.”

What?

That can’t be right. 

Can it?

James stares at him. “What?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “You heard me.”

“No, I know what you said- but Reg, we can find more ingredients, you don’t have to… do this.”

“It’s ok.” Regulus sighs. “I’ll wait it out.”

James crosses to the couch and sinks down next to him. “I’ll wait with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.” James settles in. 

“James-”

“I won’t ask too many questions, if you want.”

“I- that’s not what I’m worried about. You have classes, and practice-”

“First of all, its the weekend-”

“Ok, so homework then.”

“I can do that here.” James gets an idea. “How about this: do you want me to stay?”

Regulus glares daggers at him. “...Yes.” It’s reluctant, but it’s the truth either way.

James grins triumphantly. “Wonderful.” 

 

---

 

Regulus decides he’s in hell. That must be it. Because there’s simply no other explanation for all… this. He crosses his arms, bitter. 

James leans back against the cushions, watching him. Regulus imagines him catching fire, burning up into a crisp and disintegrating, right there on the couch. To his chagrin, James stays undeniably solid. 

Regulus has never felt so vulnerable. 

“Is it ok if I ask you some questions, though? Nothing too personal, I promise.” James blinks at him from behind his glasses, and Regulus sighs. 

What the hell. It’s not like he has any control over his answer, anyway.

“Yes.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“How very Slytherin of you.” 

Regulus just rolls his eyes. 

“Favorite dessert?”

“Bread pudding.”

“Aha! I knew I got it right.”

“It’s a common food.” 

“Do you genuinely think we won’t be able to find a cure for my dad?”

Regulus takes a breath in shock, bites his lip. The answer comes slower to him this time. “I don’t know. I’m- I’m not sure.”

“Are you hiding anything else- I mean injury wise? Besides the cut on your cheek?”

Regulus tilts his head, puzzled. Why does that matter? “No.”

James exhales softly. “Good.” He looks down. “I feel bad, asking you stuff. When you can’t say no.” 

“It’s ok,” Regulus says honestly. “I don’t mind.”

James nods. His face twists a bit, but he still opens his mouth. “Do you really hate me?”

Not even a little bit. 

“...No.” 

James laughs. “See! I told you you’d come around. Everyone does.” He pauses. “Did you ever? Hate me, I mean.”

“Yes.” Regulus meets James’ eyes. “I did.”

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence. “Why?”

Regulus shrugs. “Sirius chose you. What else was I supposed to do?” It’s a little too real, a little too close to everything Regulus works so hard to keep buried. A cut that goes a little too deep. He wants to cover his face, turn away, look down. He forces himself to hold James’s gaze instead. 

“He didn’t choose me, you know. It was just, I don’t know. I was safe.” James brings a hand down over his face. 

Safe.

Regulus stays quiet. 

“I wish you two would just talk.”

“We do.”

James waves his hand dismissively. “No, not whatever that is. That’s not talking. That’s just insults, fire and ice. It’s not helpful.”

Fire and ice. 

It’s always been that way- Sirius burns hot and Regulus freezes. Since the beginning. 

“I don’t want to talk to him.” He surprises himself with the words. 

“I know.” James lets his head rest back against the cushion, staring at Regulus. “I don’t think he does either, not after that night.”

Regulus looks away, finally. He’s not sure this conversation is any better than the one with Dumbledore. “Is that what you mean?” He asks quietly. “When you say you were safe? Do you mean because of what happened that night?”

“Yes and no.” James closes his eyes for a second. “Even before that. He looked at you and saw that house. I was… different.”

“Right.”

James chews his cheek. Regulus sighs. “I can see there’s something you really want to ask me, so just go ahead.”

“It’s just- why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Cut Sirius. He still has a scar, you know.”

The waters rise. Regulus knows. “I didn’t mean to,” He whispers. “I didn’t want to. I couldn’t stop her.”

“But-”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Reg.”

“Have you ever been Imperioed?”

Shit.

He’s said too much. 

“...What?” James’s voice is quiet.

“Forget it.”

“No. You were imperioed?” 

“Yes.” The answer’s ripped out quickly. 

“Why didn’t you tell Sirius? He thinks… I mean, he doesn’t know that.”

“He doesn’t deserve the truth. If he just assumes I would willingly do that to him- I’ll let him.”

James frowns. “He…”

Regulus waits, but James doesn’t continue, apparently seeing the logic in his argument. It doesn’t feel like a victory.  

James grabs a pillow, tracing its pattern. “So you only hated me because of Sirius?”

“Mostly. Yes.”

“What do you mean by most-”

Regulus shakes his head quickly, cutting him off. “Please don’t.” He can’t answer that, not right now.

James nods. “Ok.” He looks down. “I thought I hated you too, for a while. If that helps. I don’t think I ever did, though. I was just… confused. And then you agreed to help my dad, and honestly, how could I ever hate you after that?”

When he inevitably starts to respond, James’s eyes widen and he claps a hand over Regulus’s mouth. Nevertheless, Regulus whispers it anyway, lips moving against James’s fingers. All the awful things he’s done. All the awful things he’s going to do. It’s silent, muffled, each confession lost to James’ warm skin. His whole body tingles. 

Regulus hates touch- hates it when his hand as much as brushes against Barty's or even Pandora’s. But he thinks he’s holding it together pretty well right now, all things considered.  

James pulls his hand away. “Sorry. That was rhetorical. I don’t think I want to know the answer to that one.” He shakes his head, laughing. “Maybe I should’ve thrown a pillow at you or something instead.”

Regulus bites back a shaky smile. “I don’t think a pillow would’ve helped.” 

“You underestimate my pillow throwing abilities.”

“If they’re anything like your Chaser abilities, I think I’d survive.” 

“Prick.”

“Tosser.”

James smiles, but it drops after a second. “Have… have you always hated me?”

Ah. Regulus didn’t want him to ask that one. 

“No.” He tightens his hand into a fist. The veritaserum pushes at his stomach, demanding a more complex answer. The whole truth. He can’t give it to him. 

I haven’t always hated you. Of course not. How could I? I’ve fancied you since I was eleven.

Don’t you remember, James? You offered to shake my hand in that train compartment, and I couldn’t breathe. 

The words crawl up his throat, threatening to escape. Regulus swallows them down, stands up quickly. Crosses to the table, gripping it until his knuckles turn white. Tries not to ruin everything. “Can we work on the cure now?” He chokes out. “If you’re still insistent on staying.”

He hears James stand up behind him. “Sure. That’s a good idea, actually. Are you sure you don’t want to make an antidote? I’m sure we can replace the ingredients.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright.” James moves next to him. He reaches across the table to grab his notebook. “I had some ideas about goblin tears…”

When he straightens up, their shoulders brush, and Regulus has to shut his eyes. 

 

---

“Alright.” Peter sets down a few books on the common room table. The fire crackles pleasantly nearby. “These are what I’ve found on magical artificial weather.”

Remus groans. “Tests are coming up. Are we sure this is the best time for a prank?”

Sirius grins at him across the table. “Absolutely. It’s the perfect time. Nobody’ll be expecting it.”

Remus nods. “I suppose we’ve gone relatively easy on them this year… alright.”

“Great.” Sirius throws open the books. “Wormy, where do you think the best place is?”

“7th floor hallways. No teachers up there right now but there are a bunch of classrooms.”

Remus frowns, peering over a page. “This isn’t going to be easy to fix.”

“That’s the point.”

Remus clears his throat. “Prongs, do you think we could use your cloak for all of us, or are we too big at this point?” 

“James?”

James looks up. “Hm?”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius kicks him under the table and James yelps. “Liar.”

“Can we use your cloak?”

“Yeah. Where are we doing this again?”

Peter gives him a suspicious look. “...7th floor hallways.”

“Hm. Ok.” 

“So… the cloak?”

“Right.” James jumps up.

 

 ---

 

They gather in the main hall on the 7th floor, speaking only in hushed whispers. They decided to split off, each taking a certain wing of the floor. Sirius and James head off together, pulling out their wands. 

James points his at the ceiling, muttering “tempestate.” Instantly, the entire ceiling flickers and then transforms, dark gray rain clouds gathering. 

The spell was supposed to be similar to that used in the Great Hall, designed to reflect the actual weather outside. They’d modified it a bit, making sure the actual effects of the weather would be felt as well, not just the appearance. Possibly a mistake, James thinks, as it begins to pour. Sirius groans and tries to pry some of his soaking wet hair out of his face. 

“We should’ve at least looked out a window on the way here,” He hisses. 

“You look like a drowned cat.”

“Shut it.”

They move on, casting the spell at each blank patch of ceiling they can find. James ducks away, just for a second, to ensure the area in front of Dumbledore’s staircase has a large thunderstorm gathering. Regulus may have been content to let him go free, but James isn’t. 

When James and Sirius meet back up, they’re both adequately soaked. The rain doesn’t stop either, large puddles beginning to form on the floor. 

“This is going to be hell for Filch,” James says, kicking a pool of water. 

“Good. He’s gonna come running any second anyway.”

As if on cue, a clap of thunder booms out, and they hear an angry cry from somewhere down the hall. 

“That sounded like him.”

“It certainly did.”

They turn on their heels and begin to run, just as they hear Filch’s footsteps pick up behind them. They skid, slipping in the water, unable to hold in their laughter. 

“Come on,” James grabs Sirius’s arm and yanks him around a corner, the rain starting to come down hard. 

“Shh,” Sirius hisses, but can’t stop the next fit of giggles. 

James should’ve seen it coming, really. They are on the 7th floor, after all. He’d just left the Come and Go room a few mere hours ago, on this same floor, this same hallway. 

So it shouldn’t be a surprise when they nearly run headlong into Regulus.

It shouldn’t. 

But it is. 

They both pull up short, the three of them staring at each other. James’s brain short-circuits; there’s little time to think. Behind them, Filch lets out another furious cry. They’d left the cloak with Moony and Wormtail, figuring they were faster runners anyway.

So, James does the only thing he can think of. He grabs both the brother’s arms and takes off, yanking them to the door he knows will appear. Ignoring Regulus’s panicked look, he pulls it open and shoves them inside, shutting the door behind them.

It’s dark, at first. All three of them are panting. James mutters a locking charm, and lights his wand. To his shock, they aren't in the potions lab. The room had transformed into a broom closet, a bucket and a few rags leaning up against the far wall. James smiles- the other name for the Come and Go room, as he’d recently learned: The Room of Requirement.
And what they’d required was a place to hide.

They can hear Filch’s footsteps approaching fast, still running full speed down the hall. 

“What the fu-” Regulus starts to hiss, but Sirius cuts him off instantly, wand raised in a flash. 

“Oscausi.” It’s whispered, quick, almost instinctual. 

Instantly, Regulus claps a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide. Sirius’s chest rises and falls rapidly, staring at his brother. James takes a step forward, unsure of what just happened. 

Outside, Filch’s footsteps come and go. Still, no one speaks.

When it’s safe, James looks between Sirius and Regulus. “Sirius? What did you do?”

Regulus still has his hands pressed over his mouth. 

Sirius shakes his head, taking gasping breaths. “I don’t- I just wanted him to be quiet. I didn’t mean to-” He cuts himself off with a small choking noise. 

James’s head snaps to Regulus, who’s fear has evidently turned to anger. James can see it in his eyes, glittering fury. 

Cold. 

“Regulus,” he says, but even his own voice sounds slightly strained. “Move your hands.”

Regulus doesn’t look at him, still staring at his brother. Slowly, he lowers his hands, and James takes a breath. Where his mouth should be, there’s a blank expanse of skin, as if it never existed in the first place. 

“Sirius?” James turns to him for an explanation. “Couldn’t you just use a silencing charm?” He tries to keep the rising panic out of his voice. 

“I- I just wanted him to stop talking- I didn’t-” 

“Sirius. What’s the counter curse?”

Sirius shakily lifts his wand, hissing the counter and watching as Regulus’s mouth reappears. James rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He's trembling. 

“Really?” Regulus hisses as soon as he’s able, and his voice matches his eyes. Furious. “Really, Sirius?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m the coward? I’m the one who’s just like our parents?” Regulus’s words are laced with venom. His curls are slightly messy, falling in his face. 

Sirius shakes his head, and James wants to pull him to his chest, protect him, fix whatever's happening. 

“You could’ve used a silencing charm. You could’ve done literally anything else. You could’ve just told me to be quiet.”

“What’s going on?” James takes a step forward.

Regulus turns to James, who shrinks back a bit. “He used the same curse our mother does when she punishes us. When we’re not allowed to speak." He looks back at Sirius. "Or eat.” There’s no forgiveness in his tone.   

Something sinks in James’s chest. He remembers the look on Regulus’s face when the spell first hit, wide-eyed and scared. Young. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Sirius whispers. "It was instinctual."  James keeps a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. It’s fine now. Filch is gone.”

“Is that why you pulled me in here? To get away from Filch?” Regulus still isn’t getting any kinder, and Sirius still isn’t breathing any easier. James glances nervously towards the door. 

“Just get the fuck out, Reg.” Sirius mutters, wiping a hand down his face. 

Regulus mutters the unlocking charm and the door clicks. He grabs the handle, turns to face them. He doesn’t look at James, eyes only for Sirius. “Si tu penses toujours que tu n'es pas son fils, tu devrais te regarder dans un miroir, Sirius.”

With that, he slips out and into the rain. 

Notes:

Si vous pensez toujours que vous n'êtes pas son fils, vous devriez vous regarder dans un miroir= If you still think you're not her son, you should look in the mirror

Be warned I do not speak French i've only taken 4 years and that's not nearly enough to do anything besides order a coffee

I wrote the first half of the chapter then thought "this is too fluffy" so I switched It up a bit

Still think I went too easy on y’all though

Chapter 18: Sleep

Notes:

Your comments are all amazing and they make my day plz don't stop

Also I’m sorry this one’s short I’ll try and make the next one longer

James can’t sleep. 

It’s not unusual, especially lately. The tired presses behind his eyes, making his head hurt and body ache with exhaustion. Still he lays there, silent and awake, for most of the night. 

He got another letter yesterday, from his Dad. It was nothing bad- but nothing good, either. He said the potions had little effect, but they’ve made him less tired. Other than that he’s been laying in bed all day, muscles still too weak to move and walk. He didn’t say it, but James knows he’s lonely. With his mother working or talking to healers, his father’s often home alone. He'd ended the letter, I miss you , and James’s heart had cracked a little.

He wonders about going home earlier than winter break, maybe just by a week or two, to have a little more time with his father. Keep him company for a little while longer. Maybe when he asks he’ll bring McGonagall flowers this time. 

But then he’d be missing a full moon- and he can’t do that. Not when they’ve decided to study Remus’s reaction and change time. His friends need him here, and his father needs him home. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. 

Maybe when he opens them, his chest won't hurt anymore. 

Maybe Remus will be fine. 

Maybe his father won't be sick. 

Maybe he’ll know how to help.

Maybe everything will be ok. 

He opens his eyes.

The dark stares back at him. 

Nothing changes. 

 

---

 

Regulus, 

We’ve noticed your marks in potions have been slipping. Get this under control before you return for winter break. You are more than competent in Potions, and there is no excuse for your laziness. 

Do not forget a successful progress report is expected by the end of the year. We will not protect you if you fail, regardless of your reasons. Do not expect any forgiveness from either your father or I. 

Regards, 

Walburga

 

Regulus crumples the letter in his fist. It’s true- his marks have been slipping. He’s too busy, too focused on literally everything else to care about his grades. His parents don’t have the same issue, evidently. He takes a shuddering breath. 

He rounds a corner in the hallway, and nearly runs headlong into Snape. He grits his teeth and side steps, but Snape blocks his path. 

“Look where you’re going, Black.”

Regulus looks him over lazily, anger vibrating beneath his skin. Not directed at Snape, per se, but he makes an acceptable target. “Oh, I’m sorry. I normally notice the smell sooner. Did you shower?”

Snape glowers at him. “Watch your tongue.” 

“Or what? You’ll run to Slughorn?”

He could leave it alone. He could walk away. But his mother's words are still pounding through his head, and suddenly Regulus wants to hurt something. Snape’s eyes flick to the letter crumpled in Regulus’s fist. “What’s that? Letter from Mummy?”

Something in him starts to burn. “Don’t be jealous, Severus. It’s not my fault your pathetic mother never writes.”

“Let's see, then.” Snape has his wand out in second. “Accio letter.” 

The letter is ripped from his grasp and Regulus growls, instantly flinging a stinging jinx at Snape. He drops it and hisses in pain, raising his wand at the same time as Regulus. “Stupefy.”

Regulus ducks, raising his brows at Snape. "That all you got?" He lifts his wand, blood humming in his veins. This is what he needed. “Expulso.” 

Snape’s thrown backwards, hitting the wall hard. Regulus lets out a breath, standing over him. “Stay the fuck out of my business, Snivillus.”

Snape scrambles to his feet, furious. “Por-” 

“Expelliarmus.” 

Snape's wand flies out of his hand and down the hall. He cries out in anger, and lunges at Regulus. 

To Snape’s credit, Regulus wasn’t expecting to be punched. In hindsight he should’ve seen it coming. But for some reason, the fist meeting his face catches him off guard. He stumbles back as blood starts to drip from his nose. He raises his wand again. He wants Snape to bleed.

Suddenly, a hand grabs Snape, ripping him away. Regulus turns and groans inwardly. Filch. 

“You lads care to explain what’s going on here?” he leers, and Regulus hates him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir.” Regulus straightens, brushing off his robes, wiping his nose. “Snape here decided to attack me on my way to Charms. I was just defending myself.” He ignores Snape’s snort next to him. 

Snape makes a disgruntled sound. “Sir, that’s obviously not-”

“Shut up. Mr. Snape, I expect I’ll see you in detention fairly soon.” Filch shuffles back, looking slightly disappointed to only punish one student. He turns away, muttering to himself. “First the weather on the seventh floor, now students fighting in the corridors… school’s going to shite if you ask me… but of course, no one ever does…” He reminds Regulus a bit of Kreature, funnily enough. 

Regulus gracefully collects his letter off the floor, ignoring Snape, who’s glaring daggers at him. He steps past him, careful not to brush shoulders.

“Watch your fucking back, Black,” Snape hisses as he passes.

Regulus keeps walking. 

 

---

 

He hit you? 

Regulus shrugs, laying back against Slytherin’s pillows. I technically didn’t try to de-escalate the situation. 

The Basilisk hisses softly. You smell of anger. 

Regulus sighs, presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. I know.  

Who are you angry at?

It doesn’t matter. Himself, really, but the Basilisk doesn’t need to know that bit. 

My master was angry. Angry all the time. And sad. 

Regulus stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I have to do better,” He mutters to himself in english. 

What are you saying? 

I need to… to get my grades up. And… everything.

The Basilisk shifts. Is this your mother’s request again?

She’s right. I’m being too reckless.

Hm. It’s almost as if Regulus can hear the Basilisk’s frown. 

What does she want?

Regulus rolls over and stares at the Basilisk, at the scars on its face. How was he supposed to… how could he even consider… 

It doesn’t matter. He sighs.

It does to you. 

Regulus considers. It… I guess. I don’t want to disappoint her. 

The Basilisk stays quiet for a moment. Will you play? 

I didn’t bring my violin. 

The piano?

Regulus shakes his head. It was- it’s my brother who plays the piano. Not me. 

You don’t know how?

I know a little.

Play a little, then. 

He sits up, swings his legs over the bed, crosses to the piano and takes a seat. It’s probably out of tune , he says as he sets his hands on the keys. 

It is, badly so. The first note he plays makes both of them cringe back a bit. He mutters an apology and tries again, softer this time.

He’s not very good. He’s not Sirius. He makes an effort though, and soon muscle memory kicks in. He plays through all the songs he knows, which doesn’t take long. When he’s done he sits back and sends the Basilisk a look she can’t see. Was that what you wanted? 

I haven’t heard that played in so long.

Regulus nods. I’d imagine not. Tom Riddle, he didn’t play?

The Basilisk lets her head rest back on the floor. No. He didn’t have time for music. 

Regulus frowns slightly. Oh.

I like your playing. Even if it is not very good. 

Regulus pulls a face. I'm good. Just... not on the piano.

Yes. I've heard.

Do you like the violin? 

Yes. 

Why?

The Basilisk shifts slightly. Because you like it. And you are better when you like something. 

I like you, Regulus offers with a half smile. 

The Basilisk twists her head, tail flicking outside the room. If he didn't know better, he'd say she's embarrassed. Stop talking, she hisses. 

Slowly, he stands up, stepping away from the bench. He moves closer, tentatively, to the Basilisk. He crouches in front of her face. It’s the closest he's ever gotten, and he can feel her breath in puffs on his skin. 

It’s warm.

He doesn’t know what makes him so bold, but he’s sure, absolutely positive, that she won’t hurt him. He can feel it in his bones. 

He trusts her. 

He studies the Basilisk’s skin, dark and green. The way he can see her eyeballs moving under her swollen eyelids, like a dog deep in a dream. She’s beautiful, he realizes, and it’s like a dagger in his gut. 

Slowly he puts out a hand, and she ducks her head, just slightly. He takes a breath, tries to calm himself, and places his palm on her nose between her nostrils. A thrill runs through him at the contact. The Basilisk’s skin is cold, reptilian. 

He’s shaking, he realizes. Because this is what he wanted. This is what he was working for. He’s gained her trust. He’s touching her, for Merlin’s sake. He feels his wand burning in his pocket like a hot stone. Heavy and demanding, begging to be used.

And he could do it, so easily. He could complete his mission. He could make his Mother, if not proud, at least accepting of his accomplishments. He could earn the Dark Lord’s approval. He could reach into his pocket, pull out his wand. He could aim where the Basilisk was most vulnerable, whisper a spell, knock her out. Use his wand, or take out a knife, prop open her jaw and- and- 

And. 

Regulus doesn’t take his hand off the Basilisk. Tries not to be sick.

He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do this. 

He shoves himself to his feet, gasping for breath. His nose starts to bleed again, and he can feel the blood on his lips. Takes a few stumbling steps back from the Basilisk. He hates this, hates his mother, hates the Dark Lord, hates himself.

I’m sorry, he chokes out, words stumbling and catching in his throat. 

Regulus grabs his bag from the bed, steps past the Basilisk, and starts to run, faster and faster, out of the hallway, into the chamber, through the door, and into the shaft. He can’t breathe until he’s shoving himself out of the tunnel and onto the bathroom floor. Even then it’s not enough, he has to go farther, and so he starts to run again. Through the halls, down the stairs. Into the dungeons. Into the common room. He has to go, has to put as much space between himself and the Basilisk. Has to keep her safe. 

When he makes it to his dorm, he works to calm himself down. Pacing the floor, staring at his feet. This was weak. Pathetic. What would Walburga do? He knows. His mother would hit him in the side of the head, tell him to do better. She’d make him do better.

So he composes himself. Takes a deep breath, shoves the lump in his throat back down where it belongs. Straightens his robes. Finds his way to the bathroom, to the sink, to the mirror. He takes a hand towel and wets it, wiping away the fresh blood dripping from his nose.

Fucking Snape. 

He splashes water on his face, drys it off. Practices his Glamour in the mirror, perfecting it until the circles under his eyes disappear and the cut on his face vanishes. He runs his fingers through his hair, curls bouncing gently.

He can handle this.
When he makes it out to the common room. Dorcas is curled up on an armchair and Barty is on the couch. They both stare at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Did he miss something? Was his nose bleeding again?

“What do you mean, what?” Barty hisses. “You just ran through here looking slightly insane like two seconds ago.”

Oh. Right. He hadn’t realized they were here. Oh well. “I’m fine.”

Barty looks him up and down. “Evidently.”

Dorcas frowns. “Reg-”

“Where’s Evan?”

Something in Barty’s face flickers. “He’s got private lessons with Flitwick.”

Dorcas spares him a glance. “How do you know that? I don’t even know that, and I know everyone’s schedules. I memorized them back at the beginning of the year.”

Barty shrugs, not looking at either of them. “Who cares.”

Dorcas rolls her eyes and directs her attention back to Regulus. “Where were you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” She studies him carefully. “Ok.”

“Did you hear what happened?” Barty whispers, leaning closer, grinning. 

“What?”

“Another batch of muggles dead. In the hospital this time.” 

“How?”

Barty leans back, shrugging. “I don’t know. He probably just let Yaxley and Dolohov loose with a few Avadas . Either way, pretty good numbers for a Saturday night.” 

Dorcas stays quiet. Regulus lets out a breath. “That’s going to end badly, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dumbledore’s already suspicious. A hospital full of witnesses that wern’t properly obliviated… the Order’s going to be all over that.”

Barty huffs. “How do you know they wern’t properly obliviated?”

“It’s Yaxely and Dolohov.”

“Fair enough.” Barty sighs. “God, you’re so lucky Reg. I fucking wish the Dark Lord gave me a mission. Jesus.” 

Lucky. 

Lucky. 

Lucky, lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky-

“-Reg?” Dorcas pats the couch. “Come sit down. I wanted to go over some Transfiguration homework before dinner.” 

He nods quietly, taking a seat.

He can do that much. 

 

---

 

When Regulus arrives at his Astronomy classroom, there’s a note on the door. 

Meet in astronomy tower. Working with telescopes today. - Prof. S

Almost everyone is already crouched around a telescope when he gets there, and he has no choice but to drop his bag next to Lupin who nods at him in greeting. 

“Welcome, everyone.” Professor Sinistra glides past them. “You may use this time to locate all stars on the provided list.”

Silently, Lupin hands Regulus the list, who scans it quickly. “I’m assuming you don’t need or want my help.” 

“Correct.”

“Lovely.” 

They work in near silence for the rest of class, only speaking when Regulus locates a constellation and Lupin crosses it off the list. 

By the end of the hour, Regulus decides Remus Lupin isn’t so bad. 

 

---

 

James lets his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. He nearly doesn’t hear Regulus come in. He’s so quiet sometimes, a ghost with dark curls. James blinks at him from the couch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Regulus looks him over, brows pinched. “You look awful.”

“It’s nice to see you too.” 

“No, that's not- whatever.” Regulus flushes, and looks away. 

James smiles. He knows what he looks like, the eye bags that refuse to smooth over, no matter how much tea he drinks. He looks how he feels too; utterly exhausted. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” 

Regulus gives him a look. “Right.”

“I got a letter from my dad.”

Regulus’s head snaps up. “And? What happened?”

James swallows. “It didn’t work. Or it hasn’t yet. Or something.”

A flicker of disappointment runs across Regulus’s face. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not- you’re not giving up?”

“No.” James’s eyes flash. “Never.”

Regulus nods to himself. “Good.” He crosses to the table, starts to pull out ingredients. “I thought this might happen- we need a catalyst.”

“Er- what?”

“The potion is supposed to cut the disease off before it can get to the muscles, right? But all we made was a shield, waiting to be activated. In essence, we need an on switch. We need to turn it on, somehow. As I said- a catalyst.”

“Oh,” James breathes out, and in his chest hope flutters its wings again. Thank God for Regulus Black. “Ok. Yeah, ok. Can we do that?”

“I think so. I need to tweak the original potion, but we should be able to manage it.” Regulus mixes something into the cauldron. 

James walks up behind him, looking over his shoulder with a yawn. “Is that what you’re working on?”

Regulus takes a small breath, shuddering slightly for some un-discernible reason. “No,” he says, adding something that smells like lavender to the pot. “Do you think you can mail a package to your father?”

The proximity suddenly noticeable, James moves to the side, leaning up against the table. “Maybe. Probably. I’ll tell the owl to be careful with it.”

“Will your father take it? The potion, I mean?”

James considers. “I’d imagine. Probably. I don’t see why not.” He remembers something. “Wait- I brought you some food.” He crosses to his bag and pulls out the bread pudding he has wrapped in a hankerchief. “Here.” He hands it to Regulus, who takes it as he stirs. 

“Thank you,” He says quietly, and something under James’s ribs burns. 

James moves back to the couch and sinks onto it with a sigh. He’s so tired. Blearily, he focuses on Regulus at the table. “What happened to your nose?” It’s slightly red, a small dot of dried blood crusted just above his upper lip. Regulus looks up, wiping it carefully. 

“Snape punched me.”

James sits up, suddenly alert. “ What ?” 

“It’s ok, I deserved it.”

“I highly doubt that.” 

Regulus just shrugs. “I did blast him against the wall.”

“Reg.” James has never been more proud. He can’t help but grin. “Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that.”

The corners of Regulus’s mouth twitch, and he turns back to the cauldron. “It was fairly satisfying.”

“Of course it was, it’s Snape.”

They ease into a comfortable silence, James watching Reg work through half-lidded eyes, Regulus puttering around from the table to the bookshelf and back again. He puts a book in James’s bag, muttering something about extra research for later. James is content to just watch. He doesn’t bring up what happened in the closet. He doesn’t bring up Sirius. He just lets himself sink into the warmth of the couch below him and the comfort of Regulus occasionally whispering a note about potions or jotting something down. 

When it’s time to go, he leaves first. The potion (or catalyst, as Reg has been calling it) will be done by the end of the week. James intends to ship it out as soon as possible. 

He makes it all the way to the Great Hall before he notices the slight clinks coming from his bag. He sinks onto the bench next to Sirius, then unzips it carefully. His breath catches in his throat when he sees them, gently wrapped in James's handkerchief. James looks up, staring at Reg from across the hall. He’s lost in conversation, oblivious. James looks back at his bag, at the small vials Regulus must’ve brewed during their meeting and slipped into his bag along with the book. At the unmistakable swirling purple color. 

Sleeping draughts. 

 

Notes:

Oh no regulus is starting to care about the Basilisk

also him noticing James looks tired and brewing him secret sleeping draughts!! my jegulus heart

Chapter 19: Trophy

Notes:

Remus John Lupin (Just as a little treat)

and then some jegulus bc happy birthday James!

Sometimes, when Sirius touches him, Remus feels like he’s about to explode. It’s slow, like honey, spreading from the inciting point of contact across his body. Red hot lava, ready for combustion. It never matters how many clothes, how many layers, stand in the way. Sirius always seems to strike right to his core. 

Like now, for instance. They’re sitting on Remus’s bed, sorting his records. Sirius’s knee is brushing his, and Remus is going insane. 

“Moons,” (sometimes Remus wants to rip that name out of his mouth. He’ll use his teeth if he has to.) “Where did you put the Ziggy Stardust?” 

“Uh- I think it fell off the bed. Here.” He leans down to grab it, handing it to Sirius who puts it in the Bowie pile. 

“Hm. Thanks. By the way- do you know where Prongs went? I was hoping we could meet about a prank tonight.”

Ah. James.

“I don’t know. He left after dinner. Probably tutoring with Flitwick again.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. 

Sirius flips Abbey Road over between his long pale fingers. He told Remus once that he used to play piano. Remus believes it. “See, that’s funny. I mentioned his tutoring to Flitwick the other day, and the old geezer had no idea what I was talking about.” 

“Sirius…”

“So I’m just saying, Moons, I really don’t think he’s at tutoring at all right now.” There’s a bite to Sirius’s words, and a strand of his hair falls across his eyes, which stay fixed on the record in front of him. 

Remus knows. Peter knows. Sirius knows, for sure now that he’s confirmed it. James sneaks off for hours each week, and has never once told any of them where he goes. Remus and Peter let him be. Sirius isn’t so willing to let it slide.

“I don’t care, really,” Sirius starts, and Remus almost wants to laugh. “I just wish, as his best mate, he’d at least tell me which girl he’s shagging behind our backs.” 

Remus bites his lip. “You have to have noticed this only started after Fleamont-” 

“I don’t want to talk about Fleamont.”

“You might have to one day.”

“No, I don’t think I will, thank you.”

There’s still a rift there, all these weeks later. Remus can see it, written out across Sirius’s face whenever James mentions his Dad. The hurt, the betrayal, the lingering anger. They pretend everything’s fine, because they both have to. They’re James and Sirius. What else can they do?

“I’m just- I’m not sure this is about a girl. What about Lily?”

“Have you so much as seen him stare at her once this semester?” Sirius tosses the record into a stack and Remus cringes. “No embarrassing comments. No full-bodied attempts to make her fall in love with him. Something’s changed.”

Remus nods. He can’t argue with that. “Maybe it’s a good change.”

Sirius snorts. “I don’t think so. I miss when he was so gone for Lily he could barely get out a sentence.”

Remus frowns. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”

“At least then we knew what he was thinking.”

And, well, that was true enough. “He still cares the same amount, you know.” Remus sets a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, and tries to ignore the following shudder. “About you. And us. He’s just… going through a lot.”

Sirius lets out a huff. “Aren't we all, though? I mean shit Remus, Monty’s basically my father too, and you…” He cuts himself off, but Remus feels him tense. 

“Right. My wolf thing.”

“Yeah. Your wolf thing.” 

Remus lets himself flop back against the bed, ignoring the fact that he’s laying over like ten records. Their sharp edges dig into his back. It doesn’t matter what James says. He can feel it. The anger, the hate, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. Some dark, animalistic part of him creeping out from all his dark corners. It’s all consuming on the full moon. Terrifying. James still has a scar, he knows. He can still see him, clutched in Sirius’s arms, dark skin covered in blood. Eyes confused, dazed, pained. 

Remus had been sick that night, after they got James to fall asleep. He’d lain awake, emotions swirling, staring at the ceiling. He’d barely made it to the bathroom before he emptied his guilt into the toilet. 

“My wolf thing.” he mutters again to the canopy posts. Sirius flops down next to him. 

“Never fear Moony, we’ll figure that out. Our combined brainpower is too much for your weird canine anatomy. And hey, worse comes to worse, I never much hated you as a wolf anyway.”

Remus has to close his eyes, saying nothing. 

“Well. Me and Pete’s combined brain power. James might be too preoccupied to help.” Ah. They’re right back where they started. 

Remus sighs. “Pads… he’s trying.”

“I know.” 

Silence. 

“Ok.”

Silence. 

“I wish… I wish things would go back to the way things were. Before. When everyone was happy and safe.” Sirius doesn’t look at him. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I do. I want things back. Before this thing with you started happening. Before Monty got sick. Before James got all quiet and busy.”

Remus shakes his head. “This has been happening for a while, Pads. You’d still be at… at Grimmauld Place. If you went back before the wolf thing, I mean.”

“Merlin, how long have you been keeping this from us?” Sirius laughs lightly, but there’s no humor to it. He sighs. “Okay.”

Remus gives him a quizzical look. “Okay?”

“Ok. I’d go back to that house.”

Remus turns his head, staring at him. “What?”

“If it meant you’d be okay. If you and Monty didn’t have to deal with this. I’d go back there. It’d be worth it.”

And Remus can do nothing but watch, because he’s burning up, because every inch of him has turned to flame. His voice cracks slightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I can see what this is doing to you, Moons. If it meant protecting you, and Monty too, I’d go back. In a heartbeat.” 

Remus has to look away, trying to focus on the rise and fall of his chest. Taking short breaths. “I wouldn’t let you do that. Prongs wouldn’t either.”

Sirius smiles sadly. “I know. I’d do it anyway.” 

Remus had once drunkenly confessed to Sirius that he thought he might be an actual, physical star. 

“I just think it’s something to consider,” He’d whispered, and Sirius had smiled at him blearily.

“What, that I'm a real star? Like from the sky?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because I’m so bloody hot?”

Remus had frowned, shaking his head. “Not even that. More than that. You’re- you’re so fucking bright. And- and- I could die, any of us could die, right here, right now, and there’d still be you. There’d still be the stars in the sky. It could be dark, totally dark, and you’d still be shining.” 

Sirius had stared at him, pupils blown out, lips parted. Flushed. “Not without you, Moons.” 

“Me?”

And there was something, a moment, a second, where Remus let himself wonder. Let hope seep back in like a poison, clouding his judgment and killing him slowly from the inside. Not without you, Moons. 

Not without you. 

Because surely- surely that meant- 

And then Sirius had blinked, slowly, and grinned, eyes darting away. Lost again. “Yeah. I need all of you, Prongs and you and Wormtail, and all of you. Couldn’t shine without any of you.” 

And the poison previously calling itself hope found its way to Remus’s throat, rising quickly, and he’d excused himself to the loo. 

He’s never been very good at keeping his emotions down. 

Back on Sirius’s bed, Remus hits him with a pillow. “Oh, fuck off. Get back to sorting.”

Sirius laughs, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up with a groan. “Fine. Boo.”

“Tosser.”

“Prick.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.” 

Remus bites his cheek to stop himself from smiling. 

 

--- 

 

They do find James eventually. He’s waiting for them at dinner, and Remus notices how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes. 

Sirius, taking Remus’s advice, doesn’t bring up his absence. They let it go, again. Another thing unmentioned, swept under the carpet of forgiving friendship. 

When dinner is over, Sirius scampers off to find Pete who never showed up, and Remus and James start the trek back to the dorm. They talk quietly, about Monty, about Remus, about classes. 

“I can’t believe Pete actually tested fully out of herbology,” James says. Remus smiles. 

“I know. Not fucking fair, right?”

“I thought you and I were supposed to be the smart ones…” James trails off suddenly, no longer walking. Remus nearly runs into him. 

“What?”

James doesn’t respond. Remus follows his gaze, and furrows his brow. Regulus Black, talking to none other than Albus Dumbledore. His face is as bored as ever, but his eyes betray him. Angry- no, furious. Dangerous. Remus looks back to James, slightly confused as to why this warrants their stopping. 

He doesn’t expect the look on James’s face. Eyes hard, brows furrowed, gaze locked on the pair. Remus elbows him. “James. What is it?”

“I just- I just need a minute. Hold on.” Before he can stop him, James stalks over to Regulus and Dumbledore. Remus curses, then follows.

“-I will not.” Regulus is hissing, angular features sharp. 

James takes a step forward. “Regulus. Sorry Headmaster, but I need a word with him.”

Black looks up, caught off guard. Remus notices the slight widening of his eyes. “Potter-”

“Ah, I’m sorry Mr. Potter, but I really do need this time with Mr. Black. Perhaps you can find him some other time.”

“Perhaps not.” James grits out, and Remus doesn’t expect the stony undertone in his voice. Not towards Regulus as he’d previously thought, but towards Dumbledore. 

“James.” Remus grabs his arm. Now is not the time to be picking fights with the Headmaster. 

“Just a second, Remus. Regulus, I really need to speak with you.”

“I can handle myself, Potter.” 

Something passes between them, leaving Remus more confused. 

Dumbledore looks over his spectacles at them gently. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, if you’d kindly find your way to your dorm now. Mr. Black is about to join me for a small evening chat in my office.”

Regulus turns his icy stare back to Dumbledore at the same time as James says “He will not be doing that.”

“Mr. Potter-”

“Sorry, Sir. But we really must be off now. Curfew and all.” James sends another look at Regulus, who glares right on back, but doesn’t protest. Remus glances between them. 

“What-”

James cuts him off with a look. 

“Come on, Reg.” 

Reg? 

Reg? 

James pushes Regulus’s shoulder, turning him around, and begins to walk away. Regulus looks torn for a moment, but a glance back at Dumbledore seems to cement his decision. “Sorry, Sir , but I really do need to have a word with Potter. We’ll have to catch up later.” There’s barely concealed malice underlying every word. 

Remus gives Dumbledore an apologetic shrug and turns, catching up with James and Regulus. They walk in silence for a while, turning corners at random. Eventually, when they’re sure Dumbledore isn’t coming after them, they stop. Remus rounds on the two of them. 

“Ok. What the fuck was that?”

Regulus just rolls his eyes and starts to walk away. Remus steps in front of him. “Not until you give me an explanation.”

He sees Regulus’ hand twitch towards his pocket, most likely to grab his wand. He settles for crossing his arms instead. “Potter saw me having a civil conversation with the Headmaster and deemed it best to step in.”

James scoffs. Remus glares at him. “Prongs?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll explain later. We should go back to the dorm.”

Remus sighs, resigned. He won’t let this go- but for now James is right. Sirius and Pete will be wondering where they are. “It’s past curfew. Did you bring the cloak?” 

James nods, pulling it out. He tosses it to Remus, who begins to unfold it. Regulus turns, starting to leave. Remus notices James’ eyes follow him out.

Suddenly they hear echoing footsteps from around the corner. Someone’s coming. Instinctively, Remus throws on the cloak. James moves towards him to do the same, but it’s too late. 

Professor Sprout rounds the corner. She stops at the sight of James and Regulus alone in the hallway. Remus holds his breath. 

“Oh,” she sighs, folding her arms. “It’s a bit late to be out lads.” 

“Sorry, Professor.” 

“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, you’ll have to serve a detention together.” At the following protest, Professor Sprout raises her hands. “I’m going easy on you, be grateful. Dumbledore has cracked down on curfew this year because of the attacks. I should be giving you a week's worth of detention, but just one this weekend will do for now.” 

Regulus holds his chin up. “Thank you, Professor.”

James, looking glum, nods his assent.

“Right. Well. Off with you now, both to bed.” 

Regulus, with a final glare in James’s direction, stalks off. James sends a look at where Remus is hidden, then turns and does the same. Remus follows a moment after, and Professor Sprout continues back the way she came. 

When they get far enough away, Remus throws the cloak over James as well, and they continue pressed together. Remus breaks the silence. 

“Care to explain?”

“He looked… angry. When he was talking to Dumbledore. I thought he could use some assistance.” 

Remus thinks that over. “Why do we care if he needs assistance?” He doesn’t mind Regulus, maybe not as much as he’s supposed to, but he knows what Sirius thinks of him. 

“Because he’s Pad’s little brother… and, I mean, we’re Gryffindors right?”

Remus stares at him. “What?”

“Were supposed to uh, protect people?” He refuses to look at Remus.
“I don’t think he needs our protection.” 

James looks down, but nods. “You’re probably right.” A pause. “Can we just forget this happened then?”

“You mean you don’t want to tell Sirius.”

“No, I mean- I mean- we don’t have to lie to him if he asks, but let's just not bring it up.”

Remus stares at James. Something twists in his gut. How many things does James just not bring up?  

“Fine.”

 

---

 

“Ok- so- what ? Why do you have detention with my little brother?” Sirius sits forward on his bed and James sighs. So much for not bringing it up. 

“Uh- me and Moony ran into him in the hall and we got caught out after curfew by Sprout.”

Sirius studies him. “What were you doing?”

James can feel Remus’s eyes on him. “He was talking to Dumbledore and looked upset, so we went over to see what the situation was.”

Sirius sends him a look, but nods. “Alright. Ok.”

“And then we walked away, but it was past curfew so Sprout caught us before me and Moony could both get beneath the cloak.”

Sirius grins. “Well, I wish you luck mate. Dealing with that bloody wanker for two hours is enough to drive a person mad.” 

James breathes out a sigh of relief, but Remus keeps his eyes on him. “Don’t worry, I still know how to do that tap dancing curse.”

Sirius sighs mournfully. “Oh, but don’t do that when I’m not there to see it. Merlin, I’d hate to miss it.” 

“You could always join me in detention.”

Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, I’d rather burn in hell. You and Reggie, my two least favorite people.” 

James throws a pillow at him, and when Sirius blocks it, he pounces on him. Peter laughs and Remus just huffs. “Children,” He mutters, but yelps when Sirius tackles him in return. James and Pete share a glance- the flush high on Remus’s cheeks isn't going unnoticed by anyone except maybe Sirius. 

He doesn’t regret what he did. Even if it got him and Reg a detention. The sight of Regulus and Dumbledore… all James could see was Regulus curled on the couch, hiding until the poison he’d been tricked into ingesting passed. And so he’d stepped in, because really, what else was he supposed to do? Walk away?

Fuck that. 

One detention isn’t the worst- all things considered. Worth it. Unless Regulus decides to murder him, which is a very real possibility. 

Oh well. 

 

---

 

Regulus, not for the first time, contemplates murdering James Potter. Admittedly his interception was helpful and maybe a little necessary, but he doesn’t need to know that. Regulus could’ve handled himself. 

Filch assigns them trophy duty, and promptly takes their wands. “Scrub till they shine, you bloody sods.” He tosses some rags at them, and Regulus wrinkles his nose. James catches his. 

As soon as the door closes, James turns to him. “Look, Reg, I know you could’ve managed that by yourself, but-”

“Oh, shut it.” Regulus picks up his rag and hands it to James. “We should get started.”

James watches him with wide eyes, and Regulus fights to keep looking at him. “But this is your rag?” He holds it up. 

“Sorry. You should get started.”

James huffs, and Regulus ignores the spark that ignites in his chest. He doesn’t have time for feelings . He hasn’t so much as acknowledged them for the past 5 years, and he’s not about to start now. “That’s hardly fair,” James starts. 

“Who got us into this mess?”

“Well, technically-”

“Technically, you should get started because you’re wasting time.” 

“You’re such a Slytherin.”

Regulus just smirks, taking a seat against the far wall. James grabs his first trophy. “You should know, I’m pro at polishing trophies.”

“Get detention that often, do you?”

“I was going to say I win a lot.” 

Regulus pulls his bag over to him, leafing through it and pulling out Slytherin’s journal. He nicked it from the room in the Chamber. He asked the Basilisk first, of course, but he needed more time than he had previously to read it. 

“What’s that?” James watches him. 

“Nothing. A book.”

“Alright.” He goes back to polishing. 

 

Use a protection potion to ward against spirits and unwanted visitors in your body… all intrusive beings will be blocked, not killed… spirits and ghosts will be unable to possess you after taking the potion…

 

Regulus looks up, furrowing his brow. James is humming, cross legged and bent over the trophy in his lap. His dark brown curls, wild as ever, brush over his eyes gently. He’s focused intently on his task. Regulus' chest feels tense, as if something is rapidly outgrowing his ribcage. His breath catches in his throat, fingers tightening on the book resting against his knees. He tries to shove it down, but then James traps his tongue between his teeth, scrubbing at a particular spot on the shining silver. His lips are pink and slightly wet, white teeth digging in just a little. Regulus can’t take his eyes off his mouth. What would James do? What would he think? If Regulus put down his book, walked over, knelt in front of him, grabbed his chin and- 

James looks up, eye’s instantly meeting his. “What?”

Regulus takes a sharp breath. “Nothing.” He looks back at the page. “You missed a spot.”

He feels more than sees James’s grin. 

 

For a potion of protection, use wartcap powder instead of salamander blood. The blood is too thick and will mess with the bursting mushrooms. 

 

“James?”

James’s head whips up at his name. “Yeah?”

“Have we tried wartcap powder? In the catalyst?”

“I don’t think so. No. Should we?”

Regulus chews his cheek, lost in thought. “Might be a good idea. It has protection properties, but I’m not sure…”

“Sounds like it’s worth a shot.” 

“Ok. We’ll add it.” 

James sits back, cocks his head. “Did that book give you the idea?”

“Maybe.” Instinctively, Regulus shuts the journal. 

“Hm. Care to share with the class?”

“I’m still mad at you.”

James smiles. “Oh, right. I forgot.” He stands up, stretching to put the trophy back on the highest shelf. His shirt rides up a bit, and Regulus' stomach flips. There’s a scar, relatively skinny but still noticeable, stretched across part of his side. It doesn’t look old.

“Is that from the night I ran into you covered in blood?” The question’s out before Regulus can stop it. 

James looks confused for a moment, then follows Regulus’s gaze. “Oh. Yeah. It is. It doesn’t hurt anymore though. It’s healed.”

“Still not going to tell me what happened?”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” 

 

Protection potions can be difficult to get right… Godric messed his up and spent a week with purple hair. Avoid crushing the unicorn horn directly, instead grinding it. 

 

It was the first mention of Gryffindor in the entire journal. 

James throws down his rag and moves to sit next to him. “I’m taking a break.”

Regulus puts the journal down and to the side. “Fine. Though, I don’t want to be in here forever.”

“You could consider helping.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Well, there you go.”

Regulus squints at him. “Again, you’re the one who-”

“I still don’t understand why you were even talking to him.” There’s a hint of anger in James’s tone, and Regulus relishes in it. 

“Because he’s the headmaster.”

“He- he literally spiked your tea, Reg.”

“I’m aware.” 

“I just… why aren't you more angry?” James stares at him, and Regulus can see his reflection in his glasses. 

He snorts. “What, when she wants to know something, do you think our Mother just takes our word for it?” He shakes his head. “I’m used to it. And anyway, I never trusted him to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a let down.” 

“But still, his job is to make sure you’re safe. You weren't safe. He- he… he failed.”

“I- no. Nevermind.”

James furrows his brow. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

Regulus just shakes his head. He shouldn’t have spoken so easily. 

James nudges his thigh with his knee. “Reg?”

“I just-” He stops to take a shuddering breath, ignoring the blush climbing his neck. “I was going to say that- I was safe. Relatively speaking.”

“What?”

“Because- because I got out of his office.” 

“Because…”

“Because I was with you.” Regulus looks away sharply, desperately wishing he could go dig a hole and bury himself in it. He’d rather choke on dark, damp dirt than have to face James right now. He can feel his eyes on him, and Regulus can’t help the way his heart jumps. 

His mother would be so disappointed in him.

He closes a hand into a fist. 

When he does look at him, he can’t read James’s expression. His eyes are chocolate, deep, staring not at but into Regulus. James takes a small breath, then opens his mouth. “I-”

The door slams open. Sirius bursts through, whipping off the invisibility cloak. “Prongs. You’re needed for prank planning.” He doesn’t spare a glance at Regulus.  

“The trophies-” 

Sirius pulls out his wand and waves it quickly, muttering a spell and watching as the rest of the trophies start to shine. “Finished. Ok, grab your stuff and tell Filch you're done. Come on, Mrs. Norris is right behind me. She’s gonna be here any second.” 

James nods, grabbing his bag and standing up. He takes a few steps after Sirius, looking over his shoulder at the last minute. James’s eyes find Regulus’s, and they catch for a moment. He pauses. 

Everything holds still. 

And then, in a flurry of invisibility cloaks and whispers, he’s gone, and Regulus is alone on the ground, knees tucked to his chest, forcing himself to breathe. 

Fuck. 

Notes:

love everyone's comments <3

Chapter 20: Because

Notes:

I just kinda needed something to get me from last chapter to the next one, but idk it was still fun to write

Thank u for ur kind comments <3 I read all of them and treasure them dearly

Because I was with you. 

The words run through James’s head like a carousel, sticking to every part of him that matters. He wants to hold them, cup them in his palm, admire them. 

Regulus felt safe, when he was at his most vulnerable. He’d been as good as an open book, all his secrets at James's fingertips, and he’d felt safe. 

Because I was with you. 

Because he was with him. 

Regulus had looked away when he said it, dark lashes fluttering, cheeks pinking. Soft. Embarrassed. James thought about when he first found him in the broom closet all those months ago, bloody and bruised and refusing to look at James in a much different way.  

How far they’ve come. 

He lets Sirius drag him away, keeping a firm grasp on the invisibility cloak. He stops by Filch’s office first. 

“Sir, I’m done with my side. I think Black should finish soon.” 

Filch sneers at him, but waves him away. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Potter.”

“Yes Sir.” James grins, then ducks out. He meets Sirius in the hall. 

“You’re bloody welcome, Potter.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

“Was Reg too much of an ass?”

Because I was with you.

“Not really actually. He- he just mostly stayed quiet.” 

Sirius frowns like that wasn’t the answer he wanted, but doesn’t comment. “Pete had this great idea about the dining room candles…”

 

---

 

When James sees Regulus next, it’s in the come and go room. He’s standing over the cauldron on the table, head bent. He looks up when James enters. “I found some wartcap.”

He hands James a black handkerchief carefully. When he unfolds it, the small beige cubes rest in his hand. “So what- we crush it?”

Regulus shakes his head. “Grind it. Here.” He slides the mortar and pestle across the table, then walks around to join James. 

He takes the cubes from him and begins to grind them in the mortar, focused. When he feels satisfied with his demonstration, he passes it back to James. He tries to mimic Regulus’s movements. “Like this?”

Regulus nods. “Perfect.”

Something inside James hums. 

“Ok. Add it.” Regulus takes a step back and James walks up to the cauldron, tipping the white powder in carefully. He looks up and sees Regulus’s eyes fixed on the swirling liquid, brows furrowed.

James cocks his head.“Reg?”

Regulus begins to unconsciously pick at his fingernails, and James flashes back to an alcove behind the statue in the hall, drops of blood landing on a newspaper. Nope. Not happening. He reaches out and bats Regulus's hands away, separating them. 

“Regulus,” He says, and something in Reg seems to snap back into place, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You need to show me which direction to stir the potion.”

“...Right. Yes. Ok. Three times counterclockwise.” Regulus tucks his hands in his trouser pockets and James takes a step back, satisfied.

“Thanks for the sleeping draughts. They help loads.” James stirs cautiously, watching as the potion turns from violet to a bright green, releasing a sweet plume of smoke. Thanks for knowing what I needed without me having to say, he thinks. Thanks for giving me the help I refuse to give myself. 

Regulus shifts on his feet. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”

“Well, not anymore thanks to you.” He sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Is it done?”

“I think so, yeah.” Regulus pours it out and caps the vials. “Let’s go send them.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Alright.” Regulus collects them carefully and puts them into a bag. “We can grab a package at the owlery.”

They make their way up. Regulus stands at the window, looking out as James writes his Dad a note. Begging him to take the potions, telling him he misses him. Telling him he loves him. 

James holds the package still as Regulus ties it to the bird. They lock eyes for a second, and James could swear he’s never seen that color grey anywhere else. “Thank you,” He whispers, and Regulus’s lips part slightly. His chest rises, falls. 

“Just send the package, Potter.” 

And so he does. 

 

---

 

Regulus finds the note tucked into one of Slytherin’s books. It falls to the floor when he opens it.

What is this? He asks the Basilisk, but doesn’t get a response. He picks it up, unfolding it gingerly. A small heaping of dust lands on the ground. 

 

Godric, 

I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I miss your touch. I miss your words. I miss your lips. I wish this fighting would cease. Rowenna’s being unnecessarily ardent about this issue, as per usual. I’m sorry to be separated so much from you, but I can not be around the rest of them when they’re like this. I long for you. Come back to me. 

Salazar

 

Regulus stands, anchored to the spot, staring at the paper. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. ‘I miss your lips?’ he asks the Basilisk. What- what does…  

But it's abundantly clear what that means. Regulus crosses to the bed and sits down. They were… together? 

The Basilisk flicks its tongue. I don’t know what you mean. 

They were, um, he struggles to find the words, throat tight. A couple? 

He was my master's sun. 

Oh. Yeah. Right. Regulus sets down the note. He feels shaky all over. Sala- your master, he was… gay? Even all these years later, the word still feels tingly on his tongue. It tastes like fear. For Gryffindor of all people?  

The Basilisk just tips its head. He was my master’s sun. 

Yes. You mentioned. He presses a hand over his eyes, laying back against the covers. He does his best to sort out the swirling emotions curling inside him. 

When he had been 9 and Sirius 10, they’d trapped themselves in a closet. It was entirely intentional, hiding from their mother to avoid music lessons. They’d giggled softly, trying their best to stay quiet. “She’ll never find us here.” Sirius had whispered. 

Regulus had pressed his smile into his brother’s shoulder. “What if she does?”

Sirius had shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell her it was my idea.”

Regulus' grin had faltered at that. “No, Sirius, I-” 

“It’s fine, Reg. And hey, once we get to Hogwarts, we won’t have to practice our music anymore. We won't have to hide in closets.”

Regulus had looked down, studying the pattern of dust ingrained into the floorboards. “What happens next year though? When you go and I stay?” 

“I’ll write all the time. And don’t worry. It’s just one year. Then we’ll be together again.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

He’d been a liar, even then. 

Regulus had nodded. “Okay.”

“And we’ll have all new friends at school, and we can eat as much as we want, anytime.” Sirius had poked him in the side. “And we can join Quidditch. And clubs. And anything we want. And we can get girlfriends, and visit them during the holidays. Maybe we won’t have to go home at all.”

Regulus had frowned. “Girlfriends? Why?”

Sirius had smirked his ten-year-old smirk at him in the dark. “You know… to do girlfriend things with.”

Regulus had read about these girlfriend things in his books. They never seemed much his style. “I don’t want a girlfriend.”

Sirius had chuckled. “Why not?”

“I don’t like girls. I don’t know why anyone would ever want to date one.” He said honestly. He’d never had a single friend that was a girl. The only ones he knew well were his mother and cousins. The girls he'd seen passing on the street were much too frilly, and never even bothered to apologize when they ran into him. They were far too impolite. 

Something in Sirius’s smile had faded. “You can’t say that.”

Regulus just blinked at him. “It’s not a big deal. I just don’t like girls yet.”

“Do you… I mean… do you like anyone?” 

Regulus shrugs. “Not now.” 

Siriuss face turned to stone. “You can’t say that. I mean it. Promise me you won’t say that. Especially around Mother.”

“Why?”

“She won’t be happy, and I can’t take the blame for this one. You like girls, ok? You like girls a lot. Promise me.”

“I… I promise?” 

“No, Reg, I need you to say it. Say you like girls.”

Regulus pulled his knees up to his chest. “Mum says we must never lie.” What did it matter, anyway?

“I know. I know. But you have to, just about this.” Sirius had looked genuinely afraid. 

Regulus took a deep breath. “I like girls.” 

Sirius had nodded, relieved, and sat back with a sigh. Regulus had stared at him through the dark. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“But-”

“Sh!” Sirius had shushed him suddenly, hand covering his mouth. Footsteps approached outside the door. 

“Are you in there?” Walburga rapped on the door, rough. Regulus went to answer her, but Sirius pressed his hand harder against his mouth.

“Hiding is cowardly. I expect better.” Her heels clicked, as if she was shifting from foot to foot. “Well, If you insist on staying in there…” There was a muttered spell and the handle twisted, locking. “...then stay in there. Hide.”

Sirius instantly threw himself at the door, but it was too late. The knob didn’t budge. He cursed, and Regulus tried not to cry. 

They were locked in there for the rest of the night. When the door opened again, Walburga found Regulus curled up, head in Sirius’s lap. Both of them were asleep. 

Back in the Chamber, Regulus turns the note over in his hand. Slytherin and Gryfindor… well, the Basilisk’s comments were reason for suspicion, but this was confirmation. They were together.

Regulus knows he’s not into girls. He’s known it as long as he’s known people can be into other people at all.  

Maybe Slytherin knew it too. 

So this room… when Gryfindor was down here, this was their meeting spot? Regulus twists to look at the Basilisk.

She hisses. Yes. He’d come down through the Chamber and back to this room. He was perfectly nice, though he couldn’t talk to me. 

Right. Was… was your master only with… other men? 

I never saw him with anyone else. The Basilisk let its head rest on the ground. 

Hm.

Regulus has gotten good at burying that particular secret. Whenever he was little and his mother invaded his head, he’d drag up images of Sirius’s posters, girls in various states of undress. He’d focus on the flashes of pale skin and underwear. He still doesn’t know if his Mother could see through him. If she could, she never brings it up. Then again, maybe it’s better for the both of them that she doesn't.

 He knows now what Sirius felt, when his face dropped in that closet. He knows how dangerous the truth can be. 

That doesn’t stop him from falling asleep most nights to thoughts of curly hair and brown eyes. 

Regulus rips himself out of his thoughts. But… he didn’t care? About you being here? Godric, I mean. 

I think they fought about it. I am not sure. I couldn’t understand them half the time. 

That would make sense. Regulus bites his lip, still confused. 

What did you do today? 

I… I finished up a project. Regulus thinks about the green potions, swirling inside their vials. His fingers tingle. He’d had… a moment, earlier. The powder had fallen from the mortar into the cauldron, and all Regulus could see was the wormwood spiraling from his palm and mixing into that sleeping draught. It was almost like he could sense the Dark Lord’s presence from behind him, watching. Waiting. He felt it again, the powder under his nails, an acid destroying him from the outside in. 

What if the potion didn't work?

What if he somehow killed Monty?

Then James had caught his hands and met his eyes, and Regulus remembered where he was. The powder was murtlap, not wormwood. He was curing somebody, not hurting them. He was helping. 

Why not work on your projects down here?  

Regulus blinks at her in surprise. You’d want me around more? Even though I’d have to blind you?

The basilisk hisses quietly, staying silent for a moment, as if it’s thinking. I don’t… mind.  

You don’t mind? Regulus cocks his head. 

…No one’s talked to me in so long. 

Regulus swallows. I’ll come down more, if you like. 

Bring your sun, one day. 

Regulus almost laughs at the thought of James face to face with the Basilisk. Oh, that won’t be happening. I’m sure he doesn’t like snakes.

Godric didn’t like snakes, but he came around. 

Regulus looks back at the note, smirking. I’m sure he did. Suddenly another thought occurs to him. Wait, how gross is this bed? Should I not be sitting on it? He half rises. The Basilisk just flicks its tongue, staying silent.

Regulus moves to the chair. 

 

---

 

“We’ll be having a drill next week on Tuesday, during 5th period.” Dumbledore grips the podium, surveying the students over his spectacles. “It will be a repeat of the lockdown from earlier this year. You’ll be moved into the nearest classroom and the doors will be locked. I promise this is just a preventative practice measure.”

James makes eye contact with Sirius across the table, who just raises his brows and shrugs.

Dumbledore’s still talking. “The drill will only last 30 minutes. We just want to ensure your safety after some recent attacks.” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Marlene hisses. “Being locked in a classroom won’t help if death eaters get into the castle.” 

Lily elbows her. “They just want to make sure we’re safe. Can’t really have a bunch of first years fighting off Voldemort can we?”

“Ugh.” Marlene crosses her arms. “I mean- do we really need to practice ?” 

James leans over. “I don’t mind a break from classes.”

Remus narrows his eyes at him. “You’ll be in your free period then.” 

“And of course you don’t.” Lily hisses. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She just gives him a look, and he flashes her a grin. “Some of us actually need to study for exams, Potter.”

“Oh, take thirty minutes off Evans. It’ll be good for you.”

“I’ll have you know-”

But Dumbledore cuts her off again. “Most likely you will be with your class at the time of the drill. The announcement will reinstate that it is not real. If the announcement ever fails to do so, trust that it is no longer a drill and there is an actual reason for lockdown. In both cases, it’s imperative you stay in whichever room you end up in.” 

James just sighs. 

 

---

Regulus lets his bag drop onto the ground, perching himself on the courtyard wall next to Evan. “What do you have 5th period tuesdays?”

“Charms. You?”

“Nothing. Free period.” Regulus looks out across the grass. 

“Do you know if anything happened? Is there a reason we’re practicing? Is he preparing for something in the future?”

“I don’t know anything.” 

Evan kicks his feet a bit. “They don’t tell you-”

“They don’t tell me shit.”

He can feel Evan's eyes on him. “Right.” A bird chirps. “Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you- are you... alright?”

Regulus blinks at him. “What?”

“You’re gone constantly nowadays. We never see you. And you just- mate, you look so tired.”

“Thanks.” 

Evan narrows his eyes, but says nothing. Regulus bites his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Evan looks like he wants to say something else, but someone’s stopped walking right in front of them, blocking the sun. 

Sirius. 

“Hey, little brother. Shall we have a chat?” Regulus can hear the sneer in his voice. He wants to crawl away, into himself. He stands his ground instead. 

Regulus says “I’d rather not, actually. Thank you, though.” at the same time Evan says “Fuck off, Black.” 

“Mm. How was your break?” 

“Oh, just peachy.”

“Did your ‘Dark Lord’ happen to mention any future plans? Possibly pertaining to this lockdown drill?” 

Regulus can feel himself tense, but works to keep his face expressionless. “I’m flattered you think I’m so important.”

“Being close to Voldemort isn’t a compliment.” Sirius’s eyes lock on his. Regulus tries not to flinch. Sirius turns to Evan. “What about you, Rosier? Your family has connections. Have you heard anything?”

“Oh, are you talking to me?” Evan blinks up at him. “As if I’d tell you shit, Black.” 

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll just ask your Mum. She’d be more willing to help, wouldn’t she?”

Evan half rises from the wall. Regulus makes a mental note to ask him about that later. “You-”

“Implique-le pas là-dedans.” Regulus grits. 

“Or what?” Sirius has that glint in his eye, the one Regulus has grown long familiar with after years of watching him defy whatever was currently expected of him. “Si rapide à défendre, Reg. Here I thought that was a Gryffindor’s job. Haven’t you heard? His mother-” 

French has always been easier for Regulus. He knows Sirius hates it; that’s why he uses it so much. It’s ridiculously easy to slip into around him, years of punishments surfacing the second Regulus sees his face. 

“Vous êtes du genre à parler about mothers.” Regulus practically hisses. Both Evan and Sirius freeze.

Shit.

That last part wasn’t French. 

“Careful, Reg.” Sirius’s grin is sharp. “Your snake is showing.”

Regulus stands quickly, grabbing his bag. He feels Evan shift next to him, but he can’t be here any longer. Can’t look at Sirius any more than he needs to. “I’m going to class,” he mutters, already walking away. 

The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes. 

 

---

                                                                                                                                                                                                            
“Something’s wrong.”

“Nothings wrong.”

“No, somethings wrong. You’re thinking.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“For you it is.”

“Prongs-”

“Pads.”

“I hate you.”

James reaches out and ruffles Sirius’s hair. “I know mate.”

Remus is laying on the bed between them, reading. He flips the page quietly, but James knows he’s listening. 

“I… ran into Regulus.” Sirius pointedly looks away, out the window. 

“Oh?” James feels Remus tense slightly where his knee’s touching his leg. 

“Well. Ran into him’s a bit of a stretch.”

“What happened? What did you do?”

Sirius sends him a look. “Nothing! I- I went up to talk to him. I was being civil.” James raises a brow. “Ok, not civil, per se, but nicer than normal.”

“Go on.”

“I mean, I asked him how his break went. That’s gotta count for something.” 

James pictures Regulus in the doorway of the come and go room, cut on his cheek and looking utterly exhausted. “What did he say?”

Sirius frowned. “He said it was- peachy. That’s not the issue though.”

“What’s the issue?”’

“He- he left. Like, quickly. He barely continued the conversation at all. He just got up and left.”

Oh. That’s. That’s good. Right? “Still struggling to see the issue.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s just odd, ‘s all.”

“Hm.” Maybe James will bring it up with Regulus. Maybe he’ll give him an honest answer. 

Because I was with you. 

Fuck. 

James runs a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to just- stop. He needs to cut off whatever he can feel happening inside himself, because while he has yet to identify it he knows himself well enough to be sure it can’t be anything good. When he blinks, Remus is staring at him with narrowed eyes. He’s about to comment on it when Sirius continues. 

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything. Moony, go back to your book.”

Remus hums contentedly and flips another page. James watches Sirius watch Remus, gaze half lidded and cheeks slightly pink. He looks, if anything, mesmerized. Calm. 

The thing inside him twists, wrapping around his heart and squeezing. Finding his lungs. Choking him. 

Because I was with you. 

 

Notes:

The Basilisk mentioning Regulus's "sun" and Reg subconsciously and instantly equating that to James ugh (expecially after the basilisk explicitly said Godric was Salazar's sun, directly following reg making the discovery they were together)

French (not correct in the slightest):

Mon soleil= my sun (obvi)

Laissez-le en dehors de ça= leave him out of it

Si rapide à défendre= so quick to defend

Vous êtes du genre à parler about mothers= you're one to talk about mothers

Chapter 21: Have me

Summary:

;)

Notes:

tw:
- homophobic language (sort of)

Regulus keeps his hands in his pockets for the whole walk down to the lake. Next to him, Barty shapes a small snowball between his bare fingers.  “God, I wish things would get more exciting around here.”

“What do you mean?” Dorcas asks, linking arms with Pandora.

“I don’t know- there’s nothing happening. I want to do something. I mean, Reg, you’ve gotta agree with me, right? I feel like things are so much more exciting out in the real world.”

“Mmm.” Regulus hums, not really listening. 

“This is the real world, Barty,” Pandora sighs. “You’d rather be here than home.”

Barty’s face darkens at that. They know not to bring up his dad- nothing good ever comes of that conversation. “Yeah, I suppose. But still.”

“You could try doing your classwork once and a while,” Evan suggests, and Barty sends him a glare. 

“How’s classwork gonna teach me to fight?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Sure you are.” Barty wraps his arms around himself, shivering slightly. He pointedly did not listen when Evan suggested he grab a scarf, and evidently is now regretting it. 

They reach the edge of the lake, and all stop. Dorcas lets out a breath. “It’s beautiful.” 

“It is,” Pandora agrees, nose pink from the cold. The ice has taken over the lake, turning it into a blinding and flat expanse of white. Snow drifts from heavy clouds, dusting their hair and shoulders. They carefully make their way to the rock beach at the shore, huddled together. 

Regulus stares down through the ice. What did the merpeople do during the winter, when their water turned frigid and the sunlight vanished?

He gets his answer a second later, when a face suddenly presses up against the ice below him. Pale skin, angry eyes, head flush against the hard surface. Regulus jumps back, startled, and the face disappears back into the depths. He looks up to find his friends staring at him. 

Dorcas cocks her head. “What was that?”

He swallows, stares back at the ice. “Nothing.”

Pandora leans her head on his shoulder. “I imagine the merpeople are as desperate for summer as we are,” she whispers. 

He feels his lips twitch into a smile. “I guess they must be.” He looks up and out again, across the lake. The white snow, rapidly covering the ice, sparkles a little in the light. He watches as his breath fogs the air in little clouds, and finds himself wishing he could stay here forever. That’s the difference between him and the merpeople, he figures. He doesn’t miss summer- dreads it, actually. Hates the sun and the sticky heat and his parent’s ever watchful gaze. The oppressive darkness that seems to stick to him like sweat. 

He’s more than happy to stay here as long as he can. 

Next to him, Barty picks up a large rock, preparing to throw it through the ice. Evan tackles him before he gets the chance, back into the snowbank. “Don’t even think about it,” he grits as Barty tries to toss the rock anyway. They wrestle, covered in snow and grinning. Dorcas whistles. Regulus smiles. 

“If you two want to fuck so badly, would you mind saving it for your dorm? Some of us are trying to appreciate at the view.” 

Instantly, Barty and Evan stop, separating in a flash. Snape, Mulciber, Wilkes, Lestrange and Avery stand over them, Avery’s lip curled. 

Regulus snakes a hand into his coat, grabbing his wand. Next to him, Dorcas does the same. 

“The fuck did you just say, Avery?” Barty’s on his feet in a second. Evan follows shortly after. 

“You heard me, bloody fa-”

 Pandora shoots the first jinx. Avery cries out as a swarm of locusts pour from his ears. Dorcas and Regulus jump up on the bank next to Barty and Evan, wands fully drawn. No one moves except for Avery, who’s doubled over and clutching the sides of his head. 

“How’s your face feeling Black?” Snape jeers. “Charmed away that bruise, have you?”

“Still looks better than yours, I’d imagine.” Regulus feels Pandora find her place next to him. “What do you three want?”

“Oh, we just saw you over here enjoying Rosier and Crouch’s bent little show and decided to pay a visit. We heard about your run in with Severus the other day.” Mulciber waves his wand and Avery, apparently cured, straightens with a growl. “You bitch.” Pandora just shrugs. 

“Snape got what was coming to him,” Evan has his own wand out too. Regulus didn’t tell him what happened, which means Evan’s just blindly trusting him. Regulus sends him a silent thank you.

“Somehow Filch bought your scheme,” Snape hisses. “I had to spend a whole day with Slughorn, decapitating mudworms.” 

Dorcas tsks. “Must’ve been hard to violate your own kin like that, Snape. Awful sorry.” 

Snape growls and takes a step forward. “Stay out of this, Meadows. Just because you follow Black around like a puppy doesn’t mean you aren't a half-mud cunt-”

Barty, Evan, and Regulus all send curses for him at the same time. Snape deflects Evan and Regulus’s, but howls when Barty’s hits him square in the chest. Immediately red boils pop out across his cheeks. All hell breaks loose. Mulciber swings his wand around, and Regulus barely has time to deflect the sharp blue light that shoots towards him.

Next to him Pandora falls to the ground after a curse from Avery hits her in the shoulder. Avery’s on her in a second, pinning her down. He straddles her, fingers digging into her arm. Pointing his wand at her head. She cries out in pain, but when Regulus whips around Mulciber hits him with a cutting curse in the thigh. 

He sends another hex at Mulciber, who sneers and jumps forward. Regulus blocks the rest of them out. It’s just them now. Mulciber hits him in the arm and Regulus recognizes the spell instantly. Diffindo - the cutting curse. A gash opens across his forearm, matching his thigh, and Regulus hisses in pain. 

“Flagrante.” Regulus tries not to stumble in the snow. A burn spreads across Mulcibers cheek. His scream catches Avery’s attention, previously engaged with Pandora. Suddenly there are two spells heading for Regulus’s head, and he has to nearly throw himself down to duck. 

He sends two more curses out in rapid succession and catches sight of Barty tackling Snape to the ground. Wilkes and Lestrange are taking on Dorcas and Evan, and Pandora seems to be unmoving on the snow. Something dark and angry tears through Regulus’s chest at the sight. 

He dodges another spell and sends an inflation jinx at Mulciber. “Feeling adventurous today, Black?” Avery growls. “Care for a swim?”

A curse hits him and Regulus is suddenly on his back, sliding towards the lake. He grabs onto a rock, but his fingers slip.

Shit. 

Dorcas calls his name, and suddenly he slams to a stop. He looks up to thank Dorcas, but looming over him is none other than Remus Lupin. 

Well. Isn’t this embarrassing.

Regulus shoves himself to his feet, looking around. Lupin, Pettigrew, Sirius and James all have their wands out, helping Regulus’s friends. All Regulus can do is stare for a moment, dumbstruck. Then Lupin is shoving his shoulder, pushing him into action. Immediately Regulus hits Avery with a jinx that sends him flying across the snow. 

He stalks over, standing above him. Pandora’s still not moving, and the sight turns Regulus’s blood into ice. Sharp. Fracturing. “Petrificus Totalus.” Avery’s body goes stiff against the snow. Regulus points his wand at his chest. “Reducio .” Avery starts to gasp for breath, eyes wide. His face goes purple as a high breathy whine squeaks through his throat. Regulus feels himself grinning, sharp and pointy, as Avery’s chest noticeably begins to dip where his lungs are rapidly shrinking beneath his ribs. 

Someone’s calling his name. Next to him, Evan and Wilkes are still exchanging spells. Pettigrew is crouched over Pandora, hands fumbling with his wand. Regulus can’t breathe through his anger, and neither can Avery below him, choking and gasping. His eyes are bulging, and the sounds are starting to quiet. 

Regulus doesn’t care. 

Avery's eyes go unnaturally wide and Regulus feels nothing but an ugly satisfaction. 

“Regulus!” Someone catches his arm. Regulus looks up, furious. A matching pair of grey eyes holds his own. Sirius. “Reg. Stop.” His voice stays calm, direct. And for some godforsaken reason, that does it. It cuts through the haze Pandora’s unconscious body drowned him in. He looks back down at Avery, whose mouth is slightly open. A trickle of blood runs down his chin. Regulus spits the counter curse, and Avery retches and gasps, still caught in a body bind. Wilkes is there in a second, grabbing him. Rolling him to the side, countering the bind. There are tears resting on his lashes as a trail of spit and blood drips onto the snow. 

Sirius squeezes his arm. Regulus looks back at him, and for a second it’s just them. Shockingly, Regulus finds no judgment reflected in his eyes. Just a heart wrenchingly terrible and familiar understanding. “She’s ok,” Sirius mutters, and Regulus’s chest rises, falls. “She’ll be ok.” He repeats, and Regulus forces himself to nod. To put his walls back up. 

Sirius’s gaze flicks down to Avery with disgust, and he kicks him sharply in the side. Someone, a teacher probably, shouts from the top of the lawn. Wilkes yanks Avery to his feet, and the rest of them take off running. Regulus turns to find Evan and Pettigrew lifting Pandora, supporting her weight. 

“Reg!” Dorcas calls. “We have to go.” 

Regulus nods and takes off, Barty, James, Sirius and the others following closely behind. Lupin calls for them to go ahead, turning to face whatever teacher will be shortly arriving at the scene. He’s the least covered in blood or various residual hex-effects; and a prefect. 

They round the back of the castle before they stop, gasping for breath. Regulus leg buckles and the pain rushes in. He grabs the wall for support, sinking down slowly. Blood trickles down to his ankle. 

Pandora. 

“Dora?” He gasps, looking up, searching for Evan.

“She’ll be fine.” Pettigrew lowers her to the ground. Regulus grits his teeth. 

“I wasn’t asking you.”

Evan catches his eye. “She’ll be ok- just a knockout curse and a bit of stinging hex.” 

Regulus exhales softly. Dorcas is still bent over, gasping. Barty stands next to her, panting but managing to maintain his glare. “We didn’t need your fucking help,” He hisses, directed at the Gryffindors. 

“Yeah, you were obviously doing wonderfully on your own,” Sirius starts, taking a step forward. Dorcas and Pettigrew groan and go to interfere, leaving Evan to fuss over Pandora. 

Regulus looks up as James crouches in front of him. “Who-”

“Mulciber.” Regulus answers, hand still firmly on his thigh, covering his wound. He tries to ignore the things James's proximity is doing to his stomach. 

James’s eyes darken. “Ok. You need to go to Madam Pomfrey.”

Regulus shakes his head. “I can’t. I- not with Avery, and… I can’t.” 

“Then heal it. Reg, you have to stop the bleeding.” James’s eyes are wide and concerned, and Regulus ignores the way his chest responds. It’s just the blood loss, he tells himself. He’ll be fine in a minute. 

“Episky, then?”

“Yeah. Shit.” James chuckles, and Regulus knows he’s thinking about the broom closet all those months ago. He points his wand at Regulus’s thigh, muttering the charm. Mortifingly, Regulus grabs James’s arm with his bloody hand, holding it tightly as a bout of pain wracks through his leg. He forces himself to breathe, and then to let go, in that order. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. Next to them, Barty and Sirius are still arguing. 

“Your arm,” James murmurs. Dorcas has just cut in; which means they don’t have a lot of time before their distraction resolves itself. 

Regulus presents his arm, and James heals it quickly. Regulus forces himself to keep his eyes open, keeping his hands to himself this time. 

“You ok?” James asks softly. 

“Mhm.” Regulus tips his head back against the wall, watching James through half-lids. He’s so tired. “You should go get Sirius before he and Barty start the whole thing up again.”

“Right. Right. Yeah.” James looks him over, gaze catching on his collarbone and face, landing on his eyes. He lets out a small breath, and Regulus can practically feel the adrenaline starting to leak out of him. Relief and reality setting in. “Fuck, Reg,” He chokes out, he’s just so- close. Regulus could count his lashes. He can feel his breath on his face. It’s warm. Regulus swallows, trying to get his heartbeat under control, trying to remind himself that James doesn’t think like that. Doesn’t feel like that. 

“Go get Sirius and Pettigrew and find Lupin. Leave our names out of this. Ok, James? Can you do that?”

“Yeah. yeah. I’ll- I’ll go get them.” James rises, looking Regulus over one more time. “I’ll see you later.”

”Go.”

James grabs Sirius’s arm, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Sirius immediately looks at him, gives him his full attention, and nods. They gather Pettigrew, and with a final look back at the Slytherins, they leave. 

“Well.” Barty starts, staring after them. “I guess that was ‘something’.” 

Dorcas groans and tips her head into her hands. “You got your bloody wish Barty. Hope you’re happy.” 

When Barty grins, there’s a speck of blood on his front teeth. Regulus doesn’t bother to ask how it got there. “Thrilled.” 

 

---

 

“Do you think there’s been another attack?” Mary whispers, leaning across the Common Room table. 

“I don’t think so. It’s just a drill. Dumbledore just wants to make sure we know what to do.” James flips over his transfiguration homework. 

“My Mum wrote me,” Marlene starts. “They’ve been keeping a lot of the muggle attacks out of the newspaper for morale reasons. They don’t want to worry the public.”

Mary narrows her eyes. “The public is worried.”

“Yeah, but more, I mean.” 

“What if it’s a preemptive thing.” Remus wonders. “Like, what if there’s going to be an attack, but he doesn’t want to worry us, so we’re calling it a drill.”

“If he knew there was going to be an attack he’d do something about it. Right?” Marlene asks, sitting back. 

“Maybe. Hopefully.” Remus taps his quill against the inkwell. “I don’t know.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” 

Sirius bursts in suddenly, throwing himself into the chair next to Remus. “Let's do something else.”

Remus glares at him. “Like what?”

“Go for a walk?”

“We literally just did that.”

“Fine. Chess, then.”

“Ok.” Marlene shuts her book and Mary follows suit. “That’s our cue. We’ll be off now.” 

“What? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere we can concentrate,” Mary calls behind her as they leave. Peter comes down the stairs the second they step through the portrait hole. 

“Did they go?”

Sirius sighs. “Yeah. We’re being too distracting, apparently.”

James shakes his head. “You’re being too distracting, mate.”

“You guys weren't even talking about homework. Which reminds me, lets not start now.” He unrolls a peice of parchment, scratching ‘Moons’ at the top. He looks up, eyes glinting. “We need to track Moony’s changes. See how long they take, symptoms, ect.”

Remus crosses his arms. “This doesn’t feel necessary.”

Peter sits down next to James. “Sure it does.”

James considers. “It’ll be helpful, regardless.” That's what he and Regulus first did with his father. 

Remus just shakes his head. “I don’t- I don’t want to think about it. Not right now.”

“Ok.” Sirius stares at him carefully. “You don’t have to. We’ll do the charting, for the most part.”

“I- fine. Thanks, Pads.”

Sirius grins triumphantly and James widens his eyes in mock hurt. “Just Pads? What about the rest of us?”

“What ideas have you come up with?” Sirius asks, sarcastically. “Because from where I’m standing, I'm winning.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

James fights to keep his face even, smiling along. It’s fine. He was joking. He didn’t mean it. But- but James hasn’t had any ideas. At all. Even one as simple as this. He’d just… not forgotten, but been preoccupied. He bites the inside of his cheek and wonders if Remus knows what an awful friend he’s been. His gut twists with guilt. 

“Ok, James, Pete, if Moony doesn’t want to help, let’s get started now.” Sirius begins to mark out a chart. James and Peter start racking their brains for what they could remember about all recent full moons. 

When James looks up, he catches Remus’s eye. He’s watching them, all of them, with a certain fondness that’s rare these days. James just winks, and Remus looks back at his work, a small smile creeping in around the corners of his mouth. 

They work for a little while in near quiet, the snow still falling outside. When the portrait hole opens again, it’s Lily. She slams her books down on the table, glaring at all of them. “Did you get in a fucking fight with the Slytherins?”

Sirius peers at her over his chart. “Who told you?”

She opens her mouth and then closes it again. James feels something in his chest tighten. “Snape.”

“Yes. Severus told me. He said you attacked them.”

“That’s not true,” Remus starts, and Lily directs her attention to him. “They were already in a fight with Crouch and Rosier and that bunch. We decided to step in.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“They had knocked out Pandora- you know that Ravenclaw? And they didn’t have anyone free to check on her. So we helped.”

She narrows her eyes at all of them. “Did you get hurt?”

“No. We’re all fine.”

Lily’s green eyes flick to James. “Potter, you literally have blood all over your arm.” 

“What?” James yelps, craning his neck to look. She was right of course, a bloody vaguely hand-shaped blob stained the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a breath. “Oh. That’s not mine.”

“Who’s is it?” Sirius asks, leaning forward to inspect the damage. 

“No idea,” James lies. “It got pretty intense there for a moment. Somebody must’ve grabbed me.”

“It was fun, ‘swhat it was.” Sirius leans over, re-dipping his quill. “And Evans, don’t worry. Snape’s fine. He hardly got the worst of it.”

“Who got the worst of it?”

For a second, Sirius’s resolve flickers. “Avery.” 

Remus furrows his brow. “Wait, who was fighting Avery?”

Sirius hesitates. “...I don’t know.”

Ah. So it was Regulus, then. 

“I’m sure he deserved it.” James leans back in his chair. 

“Mm.”

Lily crosses her arms. “You guys need to stop getting in so many fights. And Remus, I’m ashamed. You’re supposed to be a prefect.”

“I was! I waited for a teacher.” 

“After you sent the rest of them running.”

“Well…”

“Evans, we’re alive and well, and that's all that should matter to you.” Sirius cuts in, flashing her a smile.

"Just stay away from the Slytherins." She huffs and wheels around, plopping herself in an arm chair and angrily pulling out a book. 

“Ok. That was fun. Let's get back to it.” Sirius says, unrolling the chart. “How long was his last change?”

“I don’t know- I didn’t time it.” Peter looks around. “None of us did.”

“Alright… um.” Sirius pauses with his quill hovering over the page. “I don’t know what to write then.”

“Just do his symptoms and stuff,” James helps. “For now that’ll be a good start.”

“Okay- wait, isn’t next band 5th period?”

“Yeah. Oh, shit. The lockdown.” 

Remus frowns. “Wait, James, do you have two free periods in a row?”

James shrugs. “Just the way my schedule lines up with lunch.”

“Well-” The portrait hole bursts open, and McGonagall steps through. Her expression is unusually stony. 

“Mr. Potter! I need to speak with you. Mr. Black, we'll talk after. Please follow me to my office.”

James raises himself out of his seat. “Why?”

"It's a private family matter."

James's heart sinks. "Is it about my father? Is he ok?" 

McGonagall just purses her lips. “Come with me please, Mr. Potter.” So it is, James thinks. Her lack of response confirms it.

Sirius is on his feet now too. “I need to come. Let me come, I need to know-”

“Just Mr. Potter for now, please.” She beckons him over. “Quickly, Potter.”

James can’t breathe. He can’t think. “Please-” but he doesn’t know who he’s asking, or for what. He grabs his bag and sends one last look at Sirius, before following McGonagall out. 

“Tell me what happened,” he begs as he follows her to her office. “I just need to know if my father-”

“Please, Mr. Potter, we don't have much time till 5th period."

They round the corner and enter her office, and James tries not to be sick. “Is he alright?”

“Your father is fine, Mr. Potter. Well. As fine as he could be, I suppose.”

James gasps, grabbing her desk for support. Relief floods through him. “But he’s- he’s ok?”

“Yes.”

“So… why am I here?”

McGonagall walks over the fire, grabbing some floo powder and handing it to him. “He’s requested a visit. You get 10 minutes before I need to bring you back.”

“I- what? I get to see him? Why now?” 

“Yes. Your mother’s out currently, I believe. Quickly, now. I still have to get Mr. Black in and out before the lockdown.”

“Right.” James shakily takes the powder from her hand and steps into the floo. He’s begged for this, so many times, and now he gets the chance. He’s nervous, he realizes. He hasn’t seen his father since Christmas. How different will he look?

He calls out his address and disappears with a rush of heat and ashes. He tumbles out on his living room hearth, springing to his feet. The familiar smell of his childhood home welcomes him in. “Dad?”

“In here, James.”

James skids into Monty’s bedroom. He’s propped up on the pillows, cupping a glass of water. He puts it down when James enters. “James.”

James runs to him, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re ok?”

When he pulls back, Monty is beaming. “I’m fine, James. Did McGonagall scare you?”

James rubs his neck sheepishly. “A bit, yeah.” 

“Good. We need to keep you on your toes.”

James laughs and drinks in his fathers face. “So you aren't dead?”

“Not yet anyway.”

James does his best not to let his smile slip, even for a second. “It’s lovely to see you, of course, but I have to ask. Why am I here?”

“I have news.”

“Oh?” James sits back, and the look on his father’s face sends hope tugging at his gut. “Has one of the doctor’s treatments been working?”

Monty shakes his head, still smiling. “No. Your treatment has been working.” 

“What?”

“I’m more than ok, James. I’m feeling the best I have in weeks.” 

James blinks at him. He does look better, James realizes. His cheeks a bit more pink, eyes a bit brighter. “You- what are you trying to say?”

“Your potion, James. It’s doing its job. Look.” Monty pulls back his collar, and James chokes on a gasp of relief. The green scales previously making their way up his neck have receded slightly.

“I got out of bed earlier. All the way up! Fully standing! Effie barely had to help me.” Monty’s grinning now, and James can’t do anything but stare at him. “I don’t know what that was, but I feel good. I have a meeting with the doctors this afternoon.”

“You- it’s- it’s working?” James’s voice is scratchy, catching on the pent up hope he’s learned to shove down. 

Monty beams at him. “It’s working.”

James chokes on a desperate gasp, and then the tears waiting on his lashes spill over his cheeks. “And this isn’t a joke or anything? Because I can’t, I really can’t-”

“James. I’m being serious. Your potion, whatever it is, is helping. Not curing, maybe, but helping.” 

James tries to wipe his face, but just starts crying again. “Thank god. I was starting to think- I’m so glad.” Monty just reaches out and rubs his back.

“I need to- I need to tell Re-” James cuts himself off, wrapping Monty in another hug. “I can’t believe it’s working.”

“You’re amazing.”

James sits back in the chair next to the bed. “What are you going to tell your doctors?”

“What do you want me to tell them?” 

James considers. What would Regulus want? “I need to talk to the person that helped me with this first. Is that ok?”

“So for now, I’ll tell the doctors it's a medical miracle.” Monty winks. “Thank them for me, ok?”

“Yeah- I- yeah. Of course.” James can’t stop staring at his father’s face. His chest is cracking, and there are tears on his cheeks, and he can do nothing but watch. Stare. “You’re ok?” He whispers.

“Yeah, James.” Monty interrupts himself with a coughing fit, but recovers quickly. “As you can see I’m not cured yet, but yes. I’m fine.” 

“I can’t believe it worked.”

“I don’t know what you did, but you have to be a genius. No one else has ever even made a dent on Dragon Pox, and here you are close to curing it. You’re amazing. I’m so- I’m so grateful. I’m so proud.” Monty reaches up and cups James’s face. James grips his hand. 

“It wasn’t me,” he whispers softly. “It wasn’t me.”

Because it wasn’t. It was a boy with dark curls, a sharp face, and sad eyes. 

Monty smiles. “You should go. I can see it in your face. You need to go.” 

James nods, he’s right. He hugs him one last time, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” he breathes, and he can feel Monty nod. 

“I love you too. Go.”

And so James does, back through the living room and into the fire. The flames erupt around him, and he shoves himself out into McGonagall’s office. She’s sitting at her desk, and doesn’t look surprised when he bursts through. “Thank you,” he says to her. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter. Now if you could please send Mr. Black in-”

“I’m sorry Professor, but could you get him? I- there’s somewhere I need to be.”

McGonagall opens her mouth to respond, but James is already rooting through his bag for the map. Something’s humming underneath his skin, persistent and buzzing.

“Mr. Potter, we have fifteen minutes till period 5- if you refuse to collect Mr. Black please make your way to your class.” 

James just waves one hand at her and runs out of her office, pausing in the hall to tear open the map. A charms classroom, empty save one name. The one he’s looking for. When he starts to run, all he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the pulse of relief coursing through his bones. The potion is working. His father’s going to be ok. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop running, down staircases and through halls. He’s panting, but that hardly matters. Nothing else does. When he finds the room he needs, he skids to a stop. 

The door’s slightly ajar, and James leans against the frame, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. Music, sweet and soft and oh so gentle pours out of the classroom and surrounds him. It’s slightly haunting, and entirely lovely. Beautiful. 

Regulus has the violin tucked under his chin, eyes closed. His long fingers, ever graceful, are set on the bow lightly. His other hand supports the neck, fingers tipping and dancing over the strings in practiced motions. 

James forces himself to take a breath. Regulus’s lashes flutter on his cheeks, long and dark. He looks like a creature out of the muggle bible, or maybe a celtic fairy, something dreamed up by lonely desperate people searching for any form of relief. Eros, or Cupid, or a siren drawing sailors in with his song. An Angel. 

The music finishes, quietly, and the notes dissipate into the air around them. Regulus takes the violin out from under his chin, eyes opening slowly. They find James’ almost immediately and widen.

Regulus’s face flushes. “How long have you been there?”

James tries to speak, but there are more tears pressing against his throat. “Reg-”

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” 

“Reg.” 

Something in Regulus’s face shifts. “Potter? Are you ok?”

“I- my father-”

Regulus sets his violin down quickly, crossing to the middle of the room. “What happened?”

“My dad.” James stares at Regulus. “We did it, Reg.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He. He got out of bed today. He… he fully stood up. The scales on his neck are receding.” 

Something clicks and Regulus’s expression shifts, sharp and shocked. “You mean- he’s recovering?”

James just laughs, swiping at his eyes. “He’s something.” 

“It’s working?”

“It’s working.” 

“Oh.” Regulus runs a hand through his hair, starting to pace. He’s taking deep breaths, and James knows how he feels. 

“Regulus,” he whispers, stepping in the room. “Reg.” Regulus’s eyes flick up to meet his and he takes a wary step back. “I need to say...” James trails off, just staring at him. Where can he even start? 

“I didn’t think- I didn’t think it would actually work,” But the look of pure relief on Regulus’s face is unmatched. 

“Thank you,” James says, because he needs Regulus to understand. Needs him to know. “Reg,” he says again, taking another step. “Thank you.” Regulus just shakes his head, curls swaying, and James can’t stop. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t,” He says softly, but his eyes are glinting. James wants to drown in them. 

“Please, Reg. You’re brilliant. You… I don’t even know how to say it.”

“So don’t. Stop now.”

James shakes his head. The words come to him slowly, then all at once. “When my dad got sick, it’s like he stole everything from me. From my chest. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t catch my breath. Everything was too much. I didn’t talk to anyone about any of it, because I didn’t know how. Sometimes- sometimes words are hard for me. Especially if it’s about how I feel.” He hates how juvenile it sounds. It’s the closest to the truth he’s come in a long while, and the rawness of it cuts through him completely. 

Regulus stares at him, lips parted and cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispers, but his eyes are fixed on James. 

“But you agreed to help me.” James continues, because he’s not letting Regulus off that easily. “And you didn’t make me talk about it. You just… helped. You bloody saved me. And my father, too. You’re- I can’t even- you’re fucking brilliant. You’re brilliant. And lovely. And I know I don’t deserve your help. I know I don’t deserve you. I know. But- I mean…” He runs a hand through his hair, taking another step forward, letting out a shaky laugh. “Jesus, Reg, when I look at you, it’s like I can breathe again.” 

In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known. Regulus warned him, after all. 

But when something in Regulus’s eyes breaks- like a thread snapping- and he reaches up to tangle a hand through the back of James’s hair, James isn’t expecting it. He pulls him down, cups his cheek, kisses him, and all James can do is let him.

Because Regulus’s lips are on his, and it’s an instant explosion. Everything is burning, every part of him incinerating under the other boy’s touch. Against him, Regulus is trembling slightly. His breath is soft against James’s mouth, hungry and desperate. James can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything except stand there. Because this isn’t right. This isn’t right at all. James isn't gay. He likes girls. He likes Lily. 

So why then, when Regulus Black kisses him, does it feel like he’s on fucking fire?

All too soon, Regulus is stumbling away, reaching up to cover his mouth, eyes wide. He’s visibly shaking- not just his hand, but all of him.  

Come back, James thinks. Don’t go. But he can’t say anything, because the words were stolen from his mouth by Regulus's own. His mind’s still trying to catch up to the rapid pounding of his heart. There’s at least two feet of space between them now, and each new inch cuts him across the chest like a curse. It’s wrong, he thinks, staring at the gap. It’s all wrong. Wrong and ugly and far too large. 

How did he not know? What didn't he pick up on?

A memory cuts through the fog, and suddenly James is back on the Astronomy Tower, that night at the beginning of the year, after the party. Regulus had been curled up with a book and a bottle of firewhiskey, staring at James with that particular look of his. “You want to know why we’re so different, Potter?” he’d spat. Him and Sirius, fire and ice. “You were his only source of light. He had you, and all I had was him.”

But now, staring at Regulus, James wants to tell him he was wrong. Even then, he was wrong. 

You already have me, Love.

You have all of me.

Just don’t go. 

Don’t run, 

And I’ll be whatever you need. 

But the words still won’t come, and Regulus has backed too far away. He looks absolutely terrified- mask broken open, laying shattered at the ground near his feet. For once, every emotion is spelled out clearly across his face for James to see. Horror. Fear. Regret. 

Longing. 

Their eyes meet, grey on brown, and James sucks in the first breath he’s taken in a while. Opens his mouth to say something. Anything. 

“ATTENTION STUDENTS. COMMENCING LOCK DOWN. THIS IS A DRILL. PLEASE FIND THE CLOSEST CLASSROOM AND WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE DISMISSED. ATTENTION STUDENTS. COMMENCING LOCK DOWN. THIS IS A DRILL. PLEASE FIND THE CLOSEST CLASSROOM AND WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE DISMISSED.”

Behind them, the door swings shut, locking with a click.

Notes:

only took 21 chapters

ur comments make me so happy you are all so nice

Chapter 22: Sunlight

Notes:

another shorter one, but I feel like you guys will like it

When Regulus was 9, his brother taught him how to survive. He’d been curled up in bed, covers nearly pulled over his head, still crying from dinner. Sirius had been on the receiving end of a fairly nasty curse and when Regulus had cried out for his mother to stop it, the wand turned on him instead. 

Sirius had found him half an hour later, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Do you want to know something interesting?” He’d asked, and Regulus had sniffled and nodded. 

“I used to have a trick that I did when Mother got angry. It helped sometimes. But I can’t tell you.”

Regulus had sat up. “Why not?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

“I won’t tell.”

Sirius had blinked at him, then laughed. “You can’t repeat it, ok?”

Regulus nodded, watching his brother with wide eyes. “Ok.”

“I have a little room, in my mind, where I put all my feelings sometimes. When I need to.” 

“What?”

“You know when Mother gets mad at us for crying or something like that?”

Regulus nodded, the ache in his body an all-too persistent reminder. “Yeah.”

“Right. So I’d take those emotions, that made me want to cry and stuff, and put them in a little room in my head. Mother couldn’t find them, and she didn’t punish me.” 

Regulus had shivered, drawing the blanket over his lap. “Can you show me?”

Sirius grinned at him, then reached out to cover his eyes. “Keep these shut, alright? Then picture a door in your head. Tell me when you’ve got it.” Beneath his hand, Regulus nodded. “What color is the door?” Sirius asked. 

Regulus concentrated. “Black.”

“I don’t know what I expected.” Sirius sighed, but continued anyway. “Mine’s red. Ok. Open that door. You’ll find a room, maybe it's white, maybe it's not, but it’ll be empty.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, all energy focused on the picture forming in his mind. “Ok.” He whispered, once he could clearly see what Sirius had described. 

“That’s your secret room. That's where you can put all your feelings. Then you shut the door, and don’t open it until later.” Sirius pulled his hand off Regulus’s eyes. Regulus blinked at him. 

“Should I try it now?” 

Sirius shook his head. “No. Save it until you have a really big emotion to put there, something Mother wouldn’t be happy with.”

“You said you used to do it but you don’t anymore. Why not?”

“It- I- I don’t like the way it feels. It’s too numb for me. I can’t stand it. I don’t care what she does to me, but I won’t hide myself just to make her happy.” There’s an angry undercurrent to his tone, and Regulus already felt like he did something wrong. 

“Why would you show me, then?” 

Sirius stared at him then, and Regulus didn’t understand the look on his face. Maybe he would when he was older, he thought. Like Sirius. “I think you might need it more than I do.” Sirius said softly. “It’s like I said, I don’t care what she does to me. It’s not worth it. But if it keeps you safe…” He’d trailed off, gaze drifting far away. 

“I’ll try it, then.” Regulus said, staring at his covers. He’d do anything. 

“...Yeah. Only when you need to though, ok?”

“Ok.”

The first time he’d tried it was when his father threw a cup at him, and a piece of glass sliced open his palm when he fell and tried to catch himself. He’d stayed there on all fours, watching the red of his blood slide over the jagged shards. His father’s shouts faded into the distance. He’d shut his eyes and found the door. It took some concentration, but he had nothing better to do. He’d opened it, shoved the pain and the blood and the glass inside. Locked it after. 

Then he’d gotten to his feet, nodded at his father, and gone to get a towel from the bathroom. 

Over time, he got better at it. He learned that he didn’t need to lock the door, necessarily. He didn’t need to block his emotions from himself, just other people. Just his parents. Once he found a good balance of blank on the outside and feeling on the inside, he was unstoppable. 

His mother noticed the gradual change first. Regulus wouldn’t cry out from pain as quickly anymore, or sob when Sirius was punished. Walburga decided that she liked this new Regulus, the one that could take a hit and keep his face level. Sirius did not. 

“Why didn’t you do anything?” He’d hissed one night, holding a hand to his bloody cheek. “Why would you just stand there?”

“You told me to!” Regulus threw his hands up. That was his one rule- never shut down in front of Sirius. He didn’t need to. He had nothing to fear. 

“What are you talking about?” Sirius had stared at him, a trickle of blood running over the back of his hand. 

“Find the door, remember?” Regulus had long ago stopped picturing an actual imaginary door in his head. It was no longer necessary and felt childish. “You taught me how to do that. I was just doing what you said.”

“That’s not what I meant, Reg. You’re taking it too far. I meant when you need to hide pain, or- not cry or something. Not to just stand there and watch me get beaten!”

“Would you rather me step in?”

Sirius let out a cry of frustration. “No. No! That’s not my point.”

“Then please, explain it to me.”

He hadn’t been able to, and Regulus retreated to his room. 

Sometimes it was harder to keep his face neutral than others. Like when his mother’s words cut into him harsher than a curse ever could, or when the Dark Lord’s parseltongue slipped between his thoughts, or when his father told him they would soon find him a bride. Or when he’d kissed James Potter for the first time in a locked classroom.

Sometimes, though, it came naturally. Instinctively. He couldn’t help it- the way he closed himself off. He’d felt everything drain out of him when Sirius crawled out the window, staring blankly at the space he’d left behind. There was nothing he could do when their eyes met for the last time, Sirius’s absolute desperation matched against a cold stare. Regulus told himself he wasn’t breaking his rule. Sirius wasn’t there, after all. There was no need for a rule anymore. 

Over the years he’d honed his talent. He started to do it physically too, with the glamour spell his mother showed him. Hiding anything that he deemed too incriminating. He built up layers upon layers of protection. Even when he broke, he could normally pull himself back together fairly quickly. It wasn’t so hard to lock everything away. 

Except for now. 

Because his emotions are everywhere, slipping through his fingers when Regulus tries to grab them. They cover him in sticky shame, clinging to his features and tearing him open. James is staring at him with wide eyes, breath coming in short pants, and Regulus can’t control himself. Can’t control his face. 

He didn’t mean to kiss him. He really didn’t. But James had whispered those words, and Regulus couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way he needed him. 

And now, James is standing stock still, frozen to the spot, and Regulus can’t think. 

Jesus, Reg, when I look at you…

Think, Regulus. 

Say something. 

Say something. 

Say-

…It’s like I can breathe again.   

“I’m sorry,” He gasps, and the words tear at his throat on their way out. He can taste the blood on his tongue. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t- I don’t-” 

He turns and goes to the door, knowing it’s locked. When the handle doesn’t budge he rests his head against the cool wood, shutting his eyes. He can hear James’s breaths behind him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, because he’s just ruined the one good thing he had left. 

“Regulus.”

Regulus doesn’t move. Doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Regulus.” 

In his head, it doesn’t take long to find the door. To blow off some dust and crack it open. Find the room behind it. He takes everything- the feel of James’s lips, the look in his eyes, the overwhelming shame- and shoves it all inside before shutting it tightly. He can control his face again, he realizes. He has his mask back. He’s safe. 

He turns to James, and doesn’t look him in the eye. “Apologies, Potter, but if you wouldn’t mind helping me find a way out of here, it would be much appreciated.”

He sees the hurt that James can’t conceal flashing across his face at the chill in Regulus’s tone. “Don’t do that.” James whispers, and Regulus has to clench his fist. “Don’t go.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Regulus, please. Don’t do that.”

Regulus can’t say anything, because he wasn’t expecting this. 

“Don’t go, love. Please.”

And, oh. 

Oh. 

Love. 

His door splinters, and it takes effort to shove everything back inside. “I’d be grateful it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”

James crosses towards him, and Regulus takes a step back. “I don’t understand- I don’t-” James runs a hand through his hair. “Regulus-”

“Some of our families don’t take as kindly to queers as others.”

“You kissed me.”

Regulus has no response to that. James takes another step. Regulus flinches, hard, and James stops. “You kissed me.”

“I’m aware.”

“Can you stop- can you just stay? Can we just talk about this? Reg, please.” 

Each word is a knife in his gut. “Ok. We can talk about it. I kissed you in a moment of weakness. You didn’t kiss me back. It was a mistake. We can forget about it.”

“A mistake?”

There’s something in James’s tone that makes Regulus want to die. “Yes.”

“Don’t say that,” James whispers. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“That’s not true. I know that’s not true. A mistake doesn’t feel like that.”

Regulus shudders. “Potter-”

“What happened to James, love? I like that name better.”

“Stop,” Regulus tries, but his voice is starting to shake. Fucking Potter.

“Say it wasn’t a mistake.”

“I can’t.”

“No one kisses like that as a mistake. It felt quite intentional, actually.”

“You didn’t kiss me back.”

It feels wrong, dirty, to acknowledge it. To actually say it out loud. James stares at him, and Regulus curses Dumbledore and his ill-timed lockdowns. What he wouldn’t give to be hiding in the Chamber right now. “I didn’t know,” James murmurs. “I didn’t know what I- I didn’t know I could feel that way.”

“About a boy, you mean.”

James avoids his gaze, but nods. “I didn’t know,” He says again. 

“Like I said; a mistake.”

“No.” James shakes his head, firm and decisive. “No. I didn’t know, then. But then you- you kissed me, and I know. I know now, Regulus. Please, don’t go. Let me show you.”

Regulus can’t breathe past the hope that's starting to curl itself around his neck like a snake- or maybe a noose. He crosses his arms. “What about Evans?”

Something in James’s eyes flickers. “I think I’ve been over Lily for a long time. I just don’t think I realized it.”

“And what about me? What if- what if I don’t want you?” It’s a last ditch effort, the final bullet in a loaded gun. 

James cocks his head, gaze cool and fixed on Regulus. “You don’t want me?”

Regulus forces himself to inhale. “No.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

James takes another step, and now he’s right in front of him. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

No. No, no no no no-

James ducks his head, breath ghosting over Regulus’s neck. He shivers involuntarily. James’s hands run up, hovering just slightly over his shoulders. “What about now?”

“...No.” But god, he’s shaking again, and the way James’s lips part as he speaks makes Regulus want to- 

“Hm.” James leans down, pressing his lips to the junction between his neck and chest. “Now?”

The door in his head has shattered and splintered, into pieces and shards. Regulus can’t control his small gasp. “N- non.” 

One of James’s hands finds the side of Regulus’s face, thumb running over his cheek. Regulus can do nothing but stare at him. “What was that?”

“Je te veux.”

“French” James murmurs, pressing a kiss just below Regulus’s ear. “What does that mean?” Regulus can’t answer, suddenly forgetting all the reasons why this is a bad idea. James pulls back, studying him. “Do whatever you like with me,” he whispers, and it feels like heaven. “But don’t run. Don’t go.”

For the second time in ten minutes, something inside Regulus snaps. It’s not his fault, really. Not when James is looking at him like that. When he kisses him this time, James’s hands find his waist immediately, pulling him in. His lips move against Regulus’s, and a piece inside himself clicks into place.

Something somewhere shifts. 

The kiss is quiet, and just theirs. Theirs alone. When James holds him tighter, Regulus has to fight the 11 year old tears of relief that are trying to crawl up his throat. James’s hand finds its way into his hair, and it’s like the sun’s bleeding into him through his veins. Gentle. Golden. He’s never felt so warm. 

When he pulls back, they rest their foreheads together, panting. Regulus keeps his eyes closed, and James’s hands don’t leave his waist. “There you are,” he whispers, and Regulus wants to stay here forever. But somewhere out there, there’s a war to be survived. 

“James.”

“Sirius is going to kill me.”

“James.” Regulus pushes him back, and it hurts. God, it hurts. “James. We can’t.”

“What? Why?” 

Why? 

“Because- because what is this? What can this possibly be? You’re forgetting who we are. Who’s sides we’re on.” Each word takes effort to get out, but Regulus knows it’ll hurt more the longer he waits. 

“There doesn’t have to be sides.” 

Regulus stares at him, heart clenching. “You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about this stupid war. I just- I just- Regulus.” He kisses him again, and Regulus makes a small sound against his lips, unable to stop himself from leaning into it. He allows himself 5 seconds before he pulls back. 

“What about Sirius?”

“I don’t care.”

“James-”

“Ok. Ok. But there has to be something, right? Because I can’t- I can’t go without this. I can’t-” James’s voice breaks. “It’s not fair.”

Regulus says nothing. If he opens his mouth, he doesn’t know what will come out, and he can’t have that.

“It’s not fair.” James repeats. “Frank and Alice, they get to kiss on the Quidditch pitch after a game, in front of everyone. And Dorthea and Bert, they hold hands in the library, and she goes over to his house every Christmas. If they ever got around to it, even Sirius and Re-” He cuts himself off, and Regulus hates the look on his face. “The second I find someone who wants me- actually wants me- I can’t have them? That’s not- that’s not fair.” 

“Fuck.” Regulus hisses, and turns away. He remembers that night on the Quidditch Pitch, the first time James begged him to do the impossible. Regulus knows, already, that this will end the same way. He just can’t seem to say no to him. “If we’re going to do this, no one can know. I mean it.”

James’s face brightens. “I know.”

“We can’t tell anyone, can’t talk to each other in the hall, or look at each other during meals.” He turns to face him. “This is all we get, James. We get the come and go room and locked classrooms, secret meetings where nobody can find us.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s all we get.” He says again, and ignores the beating of his heart. This is such a bad idea. This is going to get James in trouble, he just knows it. If his mother- if the Dark Lord ever found out-

“That’s not true,” James says, smiling softly, and Regulus snaps back into reality. 

“What?”

“That’s not all. We get this. You get me. Every part of me.”

Regulus stares at him, trying and failing to keep his face cool. His insides are on fire. “James-” 

Neither of them are expecting it when the door bursts open with bang, a blast of pink magic shooting through. James and Regulus jump apart. 

“Prongs! We gotta go.” Pettigrew stands in the doorway, panting. A second later, Sirius catches up to him. 

“Come on, mate, Moony’s in an empty closet. We gotta go bust him out.”

And since James refuses to move, Regulus gets over his shock first and steps back. “Potter.” 

James’s eyes flick to him then, and Regulus keeps his gaze cool. Hard. “Well?”

“Right. Right.” James takes a few steps and then jogs over to Sirius and Pettigrew. “How’d you guys manage to get past Dumbledore’s magic?” 

“Remus found a loophole he showed us before the lockdown, but it has to be done from the outside.”

“Wait so how did you-”

“Oh,” Pettigrew waves his hand vaguely. “I climbed through a vent. Dumbldore forgot to seal those.”

“James,” Sirius starts, watching Regulus. “Why were you in here with him?”

“Oh, I heard him playing music so I stopped in to ask how Pandora was doing. Then the lockdown went into effect… and well, here we are.”

Regulus stares at James, surprised. That lie had rolled off his tongue unbelievably smoothly. 

“Wow mate, that’s a rough break. First detention, now this?” Sirius tsks, looking Regulus up and down. “Don’t know how you haven’t offed yourself yet.”

“Oh, you know,” James swallows, glancing back at Regulus. Their eyes meet. “I’m an optimist.”

“Guess you’d fucking have to be,” Sirius sniffs, glaring at Regulus. Regulus takes care to return the look. 

Pettigrew mutters something to James that Regulus can’t hear, then the two of them are off down the hall. Sirius sends one last glare over his shoulder, and then follows. Once again, Regulus thinks, Sirius managed to steal James right out from under him. He suspects it won’t be the last time. Regulus waits till they’re gone then counts to ten before he sinks to the ground. He digs his nails into his palms until he can feel the pain. His mind spirals through everything that just happened, trying to make sense of any of it. He stays on his knees on the floor, rocking slightly. Back and forth, back and forth. After a long long time, he comes to a conclusion. 

In short, he determines, he’s fucked.

Notes:

Each time I try to make Reg and James have an angsty conversation it always ends up fluffy I can't help it

all your comments on the last chapter were so sweet! I love reading them it's like a little treat every time I get a new one

Chapter 23: All at once

James doesn’t want to go with Sirius. He really doesn’t. Pranks can wait. He’d much rather be back in that room with Regulus in his arms, against his lips. But that’s not how this works, so James dutifully follows him out the door. 

“So- um- what’s our plan?”

“We have to get Moony out of a closet and then we’ll get going with our table thing.” Pete says, as Sirius catches up to them. 

“How do you guys know where Moony is? I have the map.” James glances behind him. Is Regulus still in there? Is there time to go back? 

“Yeah, bloody annoying, that. We’re gonna have to talk about this whole shared custody bit, because you absolutely hog that thing.” Sirius snorts. “But we used a similar locator charm that we did on the map to find out where you and Moony were. Me and Pete were lucky enough to get trapped in the same place. Man, you really got the worst of it.”

“Yeah. Right.” 

They find the closet and Peter does some sort of complicated charm that involves waving his wand over his head like an American lasso and shooting a burst of pink magic at the door. It slams open, revealing a startled Remus on the other side. 

“Cheers,” He laughs, looking between them. “So the charm really worked then?”

“Oh yeah,” Sirius says, grinning. He throws an arm over Remus’s shoulders. “You’re a bloody genius, Moons. Per usual.” Peter and James pretend not to notice the blush that climbs high on Remus’s cheeks. 

“Oh shove off,” He mutters, but makes no move to get out from under Sirius’s arm. “We should get going. We really only have like 15 minutes left.”

“Alright. Come on.”

They make their way to the great hall, casting a detector charm to make sure there was nobody trapped inside. Once they get in, they split up and get to work hexing the tables. The spell is relatively simple, and it doesn’t take long. 

They meet back up in the middle. The castle around them stays eerily quiet. Sirius pulls out a muffin. “Ok. Let's see.”

The rest of the Marauders lean forward as Sirius places the muffin gingerly on the nearest table. Immediately a wooden mouth opens wide and snaps it up. Sirius yanks his hand back, just in time. 

“Right. Well. I think that’s perfectly satisfactory.” Remus crosses his arms. “As long as nobody loses any fingers, I think we’re in the clear. “

“The house elves might hate us though,” Pete worries, staring at the table. “They cook all that food.”

“No, it’s magic. And also they already hate us. Remember the dung incident of 4th year? We are not on their good sides.”

“Ugh, fine. Let’s hope we all don’t starve.”

“Uh huh.”

James looks around. “How much time do we have left?”

“About-” Remus casts a tempus charm. “5 minutes.” 

“Great. We should get out of here before anyone notices.”

Remus sighs, glancing towards the empty podium at the head of the hall. “I’m sure Dumbledore already knows.” 

“Yeah, but he’s not going to do anything about it. Not without admitting his magic was faulty.” Sirius loops his arm through James’s and it sends such a sharp pang of guilt through his chest that he has to remind himself to stay standing. 

I’ve been meeting with your little brother all year. You know, the one you hate? I just kissed him, three times. The worst part: I’d quite like to do it again. 

He swallows it down and smiles. “Let’s go down to the kitchen with our remaining time and get some dinner for tonight. I have a feeling it might be a bit before we eat.”

They barely make it to the kitchens before Dumbledore’s amplified voice announces the end of the lockdown. After stuffing their pockets, they return to the common room as students begin to pile out into hallways. 

 

---

 

What happened? The Basilisk asks immediately, following Regulus up the tunnel and into Salazar’s old room. 

Nothing , Regulus mutters as he slumps into the chair by the desk. 

You’re lying. I can smell it. Something happened.

I made a stupid mistake. 

The Basilisk flicks her tongue. What mistake? 

Regulus covers his face with his hands, bending over in the chair. He peeks at the Basilisk through his fingers. I kissed someone.

Your sun?

Yeah, Regulus sighs. My sun. I guess so. 

 A mistake?

We’re fighting on opposite sides of the war. It’s too dangerous. 

The Basilisk seemed to consider this. Strategically or emotionally?

What?

Dangerous for the fate of the world, or dangerous because you’re afraid of getting hurt?

Regulus stares at his hands. It already hurts. 

Why?

Because I can’t have him all the time. He whispers, and hates how pathetic it sounds. How true. 

It would hurt worse not to have him at all. 

Regulus shakes his head. It’ll hurt worse when I have to lose him. 

The Basilisk stays quiet. I’ve never seen you so hopeful.

Is that a joke?

Do I make jokes?

Regulus just stares at the Basilisk . He’s a Gryfindor, you know. And my brother’s best friend. 

Well . From what I know on the subject, Gryfindors and Slytherins work rather well together.  

Regulus smiles sadly. Yes, but how do they end? 

To that, the Basilisk hisses: The way they started. Either slowly, or all at once. Never willingly. 

What about your master and Godric?

I suppose that was a bit of both. 

Hm. 

Would you rather bow out?

The thought is sharp and painful. No. 

Then, Little Prince, it doesn’t sound like a mistake to me. The Basilisk hisses. 

But it was easier to live without it before I knew what it felt like.

The Basilisk tips her head. But you have it now, do you not? You don’t need to live without it. It’s yours. He’s yours. 

The words send a flurry of something with wings through Regulus’s chest. You’re right. He shakes his head. It doesn’t feel like a mistake to me either. It just- it should. 

Stop listening to the voices in your head. 

Regulus takes a shuddering breath . How?

Kiss him again.

Regulus sighs. I should come to you for romance advice more often. 

Mm. 

Regulus chews his lip. We did it, you know. That project I’ve been working on. We did it. It worked. Or- it’s working. 

Oh? Are you done?

No. Even if the disease wasn’t affecting Fleamont’s muscles yet, it might soon. They would have to stop it from getting through some other way. His internal organs are next- and anyway, there's no guarantee that the potion will keep working. It might be difficult, Regulus says carefully. 

I have faith.

When did you decide to be so nice to me?

Since you decided to keep me company. Still might eat you- haven’t made up my mind. Regulus huffs out a soft laugh.. The Basilisk hisses. You’re less annoying than my other boy. Quieter. 

Tom Riddle, Regulus thinks. Right. Do you- um. Do you want anything? From the castle- or the outside world? Besides all the Mudbloods dead.

That would be ideal.

Y es, well, that’s your job. Anything else?

The Basilisk thinks for a moment. Can you play some more? 

On the piano? Regulus asks, glancing across the room. 

No. Your other instrument.

Oh, my violin? 

Yes. 

Regulus hums. Just that? Nothing else? 

I don’t know anything else. 

Ok. I’ll bring it next time I come down. He crosses to the desk, opening the drawer. He’s leafed through it before, but hasn’t opened any of the sealed envelopes. Can I look at one of these?

The Basilisk doesn’t respond, which Regulus takes as a yes. He picks out a plain white one and carefully slits the seal, gingerly unfolding the letter within. It’s hundreds of years old- but for some reason it doesn’t crumble in his hands. It smells like decay and moldy parchment. 

 

Mother, 

I don’t know how many more of these I can write. All the ones I don’t send sit and mock me, and all those I do just get returned, which may be worse. Godric says I shouldn’t stop writing. He says it's good for me to get my feelings onto paper. I don’t believe him. Writing to a dead woman is insane- I am ashamed of how much relief it brings me. Regardless, I have news. The creature in the chamber, my creature, she is ready to fulfill her mission. I don’t know why, but I told her about you all. Maybe for the same reason I still write to you. She understands now, I think, why all mudbloods and muggleborns must be punished. She understands they will only bring anguish and suffering to those around them, as they did to me. As they did to you. I hope she uses my rage to fuel her ambition, even if I have to leave before I get to see it. She really is beautiful, Mother. You would’ve loved her. The others are still being difficult. Godric assures me he understands, yet I catch him having whispered conversations with Rowena when I’m not present. He says I can not use what happened to me to justify the exclusion of a whole class of students. I tried to tell him that it didn’t happen to me, it happened to you, but he didn’t seem to understand. Don’t worry Mother, I won’t compromise my morals, for Rowena or Helga.
Godric is the only one that concerns me. He asks for something and it takes everything in me not to immediately give in. I know you don’t want to hear about that, and I am ashamed, don’t worry. Ashamed enough for the both of us. I know if you knew about our situation, I would no longer be your son. You’d cast me out immediately, as you should. I understand how many generations I’m disappointing, but Mother, when he looks me in the eyes, I’d rather die than be anywhere else. I wish there was someone I could tell, other than the Basilisk, about how much it’s ripping me apart to make this decision. It feels like my very soul is splitting. God, I wish he would understand. I know he tries, but he goes home to his mother and father when he misses them, and his little brother visited him yesterday. I fear he will never know the loss I’ve suffered at the hands of those people. 

I must go now, Mother. 

Rest easy. 

 

Regulus folds the letter, sliding it back into the envelope. There’s something caught in his throat, and he clears it before turning to the Basilisk. Muggles killed your Master’s family?

Yes. There’s a burning fury to her normally passive voice, and it carries perhaps the most emotion Regulus has ever heard from her. Ripped them to shreds, in front of him. 

Regulus looks down at the letter in his hands. Do… do you think he’d be happy? With the direction the Dark Lord is taking this war? 

The Basilisk just twists its head, tongue flickering. I do not know enough. 

Right. 

Will you read it to me?

What? 

His letter. Will you read it to me?

Regulus does.

 

---

 

When James sees Regulus next, it’s in the Come and Go room. He waits anxiously, knee bouncing. He straightens his tie, runs a hand through his wild hair. What if Regulus changed his mind? What if he doesn’t show up at all?

But then the door opens and James shoots to his feet, staring wide-eyed at Regulus. “Hey,” He whispers, and Regulus’s eyes catch his, and everything is ok again. 

“Hi.” Regulus murmurs, gaze fixed on him. “How are you?”

James just shakes his head, crossing the room quickly. He reaches out, but stops just short. Cocks his head in a silent question. Regulus swallows and nods wordlessly. James lets his hands find the other boy’s waist, pulling him in. Regulus stumbles a bit but goes willingly, pressing up against James’s chest. It’s sweet and soft. It feels like relief, and he lets out a quiet gasp. Finally. 

“Better now,” He whispers against Regulus’s lips.

When they finally separate, it feels like ages later. “I missed you,” James says, tucking a curl behind Regulus’s ear. 

Regulus bites back a smile. “It hasn’t been that long, James.” 

“What are you saying? You didn’t miss me?” James fake pouts, and is rewarded with an eye-roll. 

“I had a thought,” Regulus says, turning from James to go to the table. James immediately mourns his loss. 

“For my dad?”

“Yes.” Regulus pulls out a book from his bag, setting it on the table. It’s one they’ve read at least five times, entirely dedicated to dragon pox. 

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t we wait? I was having much more fun with what we were just doing.”

Regulus blushes, but doesn’t give in. “The virus has slowed but hasn’t stopped, correct?”

James sighs, but nods.  “Yeah. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but he’s not currently getting any weaker. Though, it might just be moving too slowly to detect.”

Regulus hums. “I don’t think so. I think it’s looking for another way to your fathers internal organs.”

James frowns. It never gets easier, talking about this. He’s awful at separating their task from the person he loves. “Right. So we need to block all paths?”

“Ideally yes, but we can’t. It’s too dangerous to mess that much with his inner-body systems.”

“So….?”

“So,” Regulus pauses. “I have no idea.”

“Mmm.” James moves behind him, relishing in the resulting shiver when he wraps his arms around him. He can do this now, he reminds himself. He’s allowed to hold him. “So you interrupted that for… nothing?”

Against him, Regulus takes a deep breath. “I’m worried. I don’t know how long our good luck will last.”

“Yes, but it isn’t luck, is it? It’s you. You did that.”

Regulus turns to him, eyes locked on his. James can’t take it- the way he’s looking at him. He’s never been able to take it, he realizes. 

“You’re pretty,” he whispers, studying Regulus’s face. 

Regulus says nothing for a long time, staring right on back. “You’re such a bad idea, Potter.” He says finally, and James’s heart sings. 

“But?”

“But.” 

James grins. He feels so warm. Warmer than he has in weeks- like he’s stumbled upon something he’s desperately been aching for. Regulus smiles too, but there’s a certain sadness that clings to its corners.

“What’s wrong?” James asks. 

“Nothing.” Regulus leans his head against James’s chest. He lets out a puff of air, and James can feel it through his shirt. “Slowly,” He whispers, barely audible. “Or all at once.”

James has no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s warm and right where he wants him. He leans down, resting his chin on top of Regulus’s head. He smells clean, and slightly of old books. Like the restricted section of the library. "How did I not know... I mean, I didn't even know I was into blokes until you kissed me."

"I know you didn't." 

A thought occurs to him- something left unfinished. Something not quite resolved. “If you’re right, and this is all we get,” He murmurs into Regulus’s hair, “It’s more than enough. I’ll take anything you can give me, Reg, and it’ll still be more than I expect from you. More than I deserve.”

Regulus just shakes his head against him. “I hate you.”

James sighs. “I know, love.”

 

---

 

When Regulus drops his bag at the foot of the telescope and takes his place next to Lupin, the other boy’s head snaps up with a startled jump. 

“Where did you come from?”

Regulus gives him a blank look. “The stairs.”

“Merlin. We’re gonna have to work on that.” Lupin sighs and moves aside, gesturing for Regulus to take a look through the telescope. “We’re still just mapping the planet's path.” He pulls out the peice of parchment they’ve been recording their data on. “I’m not sure we’re doing this right.”

Regulus leans over and takes a look, frowning. “No, it's right. Neptune just orbits very slowly.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Lupin just shakes his head and looks back through the telescope. After a second, he pulls away. “It’s very slow. Compared to the moon, especially.”

Regulus studies him, passive. “You know a lot about the moon.”

It’s just a second, just a moment, but Regulus sees it. The way Lupin’s body tenses and goes stiff. Then he’s as relaxed as ever, and shrugs. “I guess.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” But Lupin won’t meet his eyes, and Regulus knows he's found a sore spot. A bruise. He wants to push it, see what happens. 

“You’re not bad at constellations or solar flares, but the second we discuss the moon you become an expert.”

“Just an interest, you know.” 

“Hm.” Regulus watches him coolly. 

“It’s nothing.”

Regulus just raises his brows, but doesn’t respond. He’ll let Lupin dig his own hole.

“We should get back to our planet data,” Lupin mutters, turning away and getting out a quill. “Where’s Neptune now?” 

Regulus doesn’t need to look. “In practically the same spot as yesterday.” 

Lupin sighs. “I still don’t think that's right.”

Regulus just rolls his eyes and adjusts the telescope. 

Notes:

second short one in a row- don't worry I think the next ones good and long

fluff?! blegh next chapter will switch it up a bit

Chapter 24: The Visit

When Remus creeps down the stairs, everyone else is asleep. The fire in the common room has been reduced to embers, crackling and popping with a warm sizzle. Remus stares at it for a moment, basking in its heat. Eventually, he makes his way over to the bookcase against the wall. He tugs it out and freezes at the resulting sound. He waits till he’s sure he’s safe, then pulls out the rolled piece of parchment James and Sirius stashed back there during the day. 

He carries it to the fire where he takes a seat on the carpet. Remus runs a hand through his hair then rolls it out across the floor. It’s the chart James and Sirius had been working on, graphing his changes. Every month, as many details as they could remember. Remus can identify both of their handwriting on the parchment, James’s blocky text making up the title and table. Remus sucks in a breath, running his fingers over the paper. Sirius’s writing had always been so distinctly his that Remus could pick it out anywhere. It was loopy and clean, years of pureblood training forcing the pen to trace perfect letters. And yet there was a certain messiness to it as well, as if the rebel in Sirius made him jerk the pen at the end of his o’s or add an unnecessary scribble to his h’s. Regulus’s was similar, Remus realizes, thinking back to their astronomy homework. Except he kept his letters clipped and short, to the point. Nothing unnecessary and nothing that could ever, ever, be deemed as messy . 

Remus runs one finger over Sirius’s loopy scrawl, not actually reading the words. He’d told James and Sirius this wasn’t worth their time and that he wouldn’t help, but they’d gone ahead and done it anyway. Bastards. Remus smiles softly in the flickering light. 

When he does start reading, though, it’s difficult to push past the growing stutter of his heart. Under the section designated for ‘observations’, Sirius had written nearly everything, text spilling out of the allotted space. 

Eyes turn first, before body. Golden yellow, piercing.

Doesn’t like it when we watch him turn, prefers us to turn around. Won’t tell us, though. 

Fur is softer the more comfortable he is. 

When he changes back, he likes privacy to get changed, unless he’s hurt, in which he likes to be comforted.  

Remus hadn’t said any of that to either of them- which meant Sirius had noticed it on his own. He’d been watching, paying attention. It wasn’t just physical characteristics either, it’s preferences and dislikes, things Remus himself wasn’t aware of but now knows to be true. 

He frowns, looking at the empty spaces. It’s the full moon tomorrow. They’ll have more data to add.  

“Hey.” The voice is soft and right above his shoulder. Remus looks up, though he doesn’t have to. No one else's voice feels like that. 

Sirius smiles and takes a seat next to him, looking over the parchment. “I see you couldn’t stay away for long. How’d we do? It was a bit difficult without your input, but we made it work.” He shrugs. 

Remus nods, relishing at the way the firelight dances over Sirius’s cheekbones. “Yeah. I’d say you did fairly well.”

“Hm. Still have more to add though.” Sirius looks up then, catches Remus staring. Remus looks away. “Why are you up?”

Remus shakes his head. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Has that been happening a lot? We could go to Madam Pomfrey.” 

Remus almost laughs at the concern in his voice. “No need. She already gave me a bunch of sleeping potions. And no, it doesn't happen a lot. Just… just tonight.” 

“Oh. Did you give James some?”

Remus cocks his head. “No?”

“Hm.” Sirius looks back at the fire. “He has some too. Takes them often. Madam Pomfrey must’ve helped him out as well.”

“Yeah.” Remus says eventually. “Must’ve.” Sirius’s hair is down and loose, black waves that frame his face perfectly. Remus resists the urge to brush it out of the way, tuck it behind his ear. He bets it's soft. “Why are you up?” He asks, as soon as he can find words. 

Sirius just shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know.”

Remus’s gaze catches on something peeking out of his pocket. “What are those?”

Sirius follows his eyes and tenses for a second. “Nothing that matters.”

“Sirius.”

They lock eyes, and for a second, nothing moves. Then Sirius reaches into his pocket and pulls out two letters, still in their envelopes. “I was gonna burn them.”

Something sinks in Remus’s stomach. He knows who they’re from, but asks anyway. “Who…”

“Walburga.” Sirius bites out the word, dropping the letters on the carpet in front of them. 

“Ah.” Remus feels the familiar anger churn in his stomach, and it’s work to push through it. “What’s she want?”

“My money,” Sirius snorts, flicking the letters lightly. 

“What?”

“When Alphard died, apparently he left most of his belongings to me. Including his money.” He eyes the letters ruefully. “So, this is her trying to convince me it’s rightfully hers and I should sign it over.” 

“Oh.” Remus grits his teeth. “How many of these has she sent?”

Sirius just shakes his head. “I don’t know. I burn them all. I only opened the first one.”

Remus nods. “Good. That’s good.”

“I suppose.”

Remus hates the look on his face. Decides that he should never look like that again. “You know that’s never going to happen, right? She can’t take your money. Your Uncle left you that, it’s rightfully yours as long as you say it is. She can’t do anything about that.”

Sirius picks at the carpet. “Yeah, but she can do something to me .” 

The words send something hot and burning dripping down Remus’s spine. “That’s not true. You’re at James’s now. You're with us. She can’t get to you here.”

Sirius looks away, and the muscles in his jaw tense. “Do you know what my boggart used to be?”

Remus doesn’t, admittedly. Sirius skipped that day of Defense Against the Dark Arts. “No.”

“My brother’s body.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Remus wasn’t expecting that.

“And then?”

“And then it changed, to James’s. I don’t know what it is now.” He glances over at Remus through his lashes. “I haven’t checked.” He waves his hand. “That’s not important. She- my mother- hated that. Hated that it was my boggart. She said caring that much about someone was a weakness, that our boggart should be nothing except our own death. Reggie’s was the same, you know. And now- now this…” Sirius looks to the letters.

Remus nudges him with his shoulder, struggling to follow his train of thought.  “She can’t get you here. She doesn’t have you anymore.”

“Yeah.” Sirius sighs, and the sound cuts right through Remus. “Yeah, you’re right. She doesn’t have me. But she still has him.”

“You think she’ll do something? What does he have to do with you refusing to give her the money?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything. But… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Remus catches his wrist as he keeps picking at the carpet. Sirius’s skin is soft under his fingers, and warm. “It’s not stupid. She was wrong, you know. It’s not a weakness. To- to care.”

Sirius holds his gaze. “I know, Moons. If you guys have taught me one thing, it’s that.” 

Remus allows himself a second to drink in Sirius’s face, his eyes, his hair, tucking away every detail. He wants to live here, live in this moment where he can stare at Sirius all he wants. Sirius’s eyelashes flutter when he speaks next. “I don’t know how she does it,” He whispers softly. “All these fucking years later, and she still finds her way under my skin.”

Remus lets out a breath. “Mothers have a way of doing that, I suppose.” He thinks of his own, curled in bed, eyes staring off into nothing, another full mug of tea cooling on the table next to her. At least she didn’t leave him covered in scars, Remus thinks, eyeing the silvery one peeking out from under Sirius’s shirt. She didn’t need to. He was more than capable of doing that to himself. 

“She’s not my mother.”

Remus studies him for a moment. “You should burn them,” he whispers finally, and Sirius picks the letters up. 

He feeds them into the fire slowly, one at a time. When the second one goes in, he rests his head on Remus’s shoulder and they watch as the flame curls over Walburga’s jagged writing. Remus feels the weight of Sirius’s head and leans into it, trying to keep his heartbeat as soft as the other boy’s breath. The fire crackles and the last letter crumbles into ashes. 

“Bitch,” Sirius whispers, and Remus chuckles.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

 

---

 

“I still don’t understand,” Lily says, clutching her books to her chest. “Why haven’t they won yet? They’ve beat each team already.”

Remus rolls his eyes, doing his best to keep up with her. He has longer legs, but she’s always been unexpectedly fast. “I don’t know. James said something about a tournament. They have to play more than once?”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

“They beat all of them. Why do they have to do it again?”

Remus sighs. “Who knows, honestly. I think they just want to keep playing.”

Lily groans. “I hate Quidditch.”

“Don’t tell James that.”

“Oh, he knows.” 

Remus laughs. The cool light of the February sun slants in through the windows, staining her hair an even more vibrant red. “I wish they’d take up… chess, or something. At least then I could help.”

“Pshh- I could beat you in chess any day.” 

“Oh, please, Evans.”

Lily grins, and her nose scrunches just a bit. “I’m confident. Pretty sure I beat you last week, actu-”

“Lily?”

Both Remus and Lily come to a halt in the middle of the hallway. Snape stands in front of them, staring at Lily and pointedly ignoring Remus. “Lily? Can I talk to you?”

A biting remark hesitates on Remus’s tongue, but he knows this is Lily’s fight. He stays quiet. 

“No thank you, Severus. Me and Remus have to get to class.” She keeps her voice prim and proper. Snape sneers. 

“I don’t know how you can stand to speak to him.”

Remus raises a brow at him and Lily shoots him a look. “It’s not up to you.” 

“Oh, come on-”

“Severus,” She cuts him off, and Remus can see the hurt in her eyes. The age-old betrayal. “Please, just go. I don’t want another fight.”

“Because that went so well for your lot last time, did it? How’s Pandora?”

“She’s fine, actually.” Lily says at the same time as Remus asks “How's Avery?”

Snape’s eyes darken. “If Black hadn’t gone bloody crazy-”

Lily glances at Remus. “Sirius?” 

Remus shakes his head. “Regulus.”

“Ah.” She directs her attention back to Snape. “Please, Severus, Remus and I are going to be late.” 

“Just a minute, please, Lily?”

“Oh, it’s Lily now, is it?” Her voice turns mean, and Remus takes a step next to her instictually. “It was Evans last week in front of your mates. What changed?”

Snape shuffles on his feet. “They aren’t here.” 

Lily’s lip curls back. “Leave me alone, Snape.”

Remus watches the words hit him, the hurt and anger flashing across his face. “Fuck you, Evans. Here I am, trying to be nice, and you-”

“Leave it, Snape.” Remus growls. “You heard her.”

“Stay out of this, Lupin. Don’t think I don’t see you and that bloody traitor Black wandering around here as if you own the place. Muggle-sympathizers.” Snape raises his hands in mock surrender when Remus takes a threatening step forward. “I don’t need to do anything. The Dark Lord will take care of you lot quick enough.” 

“What are you-”

“Don’t worry, Lily,” Snape sneers, turning back to her. There’s no familiarity in his eyes, just pure spite. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be talking to a dirty Mudblood anyway. I would want to get any filth on me, now would I? Best to steer clear.”

Remus’s hand goes for his wand, but Lily catches his arm, lips pressed into a tight line. Her face is stony, but Remus can see it in her eyes. The hurt. The sadness. A line between them, her and Snape, seems to rip, tearing in two. Remus can almost hear it, the snap of the tread.

“Goodbye, Severus.” Lily says, sending him one last look. There are tears in her eyes, glittering on her lashes, but she doesn’t let them fall. Blinking rapidly, she tugs Remus on and they keep walking. 

“God, Lily, I’m so sorry. He’s disgusting. He-”

“Look,” Lily says, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want to stand here and listen to you insult my friend. So can we talk about something else please?”

“Your friend?” Remus asks incredulously. “Lily, he just called you a- a-”

“I know what he said.” She shakes her head, staring at the ground as she walks. “You’re right. He’s not my friend. But I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m more than capable of handling Severus myself.”

“I know,” Remus exhales, looping his arm through hers. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She sends him a sad smile. “So… a round of chess at lunch?”

Remus grins, the dark mass inside of him receding slightly. “You’re on.”

 

---

 

Lily does beat him at chess, not that Remus was expecting anything else. After she disappears back to the common room to find Mary, Remus sits down with James and Sirius. Pete’s somewhere- probably the greenhouses. “Ugh. She’s got to stop being so bloody good at that game,” he groans, staring after her. 

“That was brutal,” James agrees, clapping him on the back. “You might want to give up on chess, mate.”

“Oh, as if you’d do any better.” Remus rolls his eyes, pulling a book out of his bag. 

“Against Evans? Easy.” James crosses his arms and Sirius snorts. 

“Remember last year, when you kept challenging her to games of chess just so you could keep talking to her?”

James’s grin falters, almost imperceptibly. “God, I was a dick.”

“Just a bit,” Remus agrees, not looking up from his page. 

“It’s alright. You toned down the overtly obvious pinning this year.” Sirius pours himself another glass of pumpkin juice. “I actually haven’t seen you serenade her with one love song yet. It’s a new record. Must be.” 

James groans, and Remus and Sirius share a look. Sirius leans over and claps him on the back. “Don’t worry mate, it’s good. You have more of a chance this way, anyway.”

James shifts, avoiding their eyes. “Yeah. Right. I suppose.”

“You are still into her, aren’t you?” There’s something sharp in Sirius’s tone, and Remus puts a bookmark in his book, setting it down. 

“Sirius,” He murmurs softly, a warning, but Sirius ignores him.

James swallows. “I don’t know. I don’t um… I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Sirius sits back, staring at him. “Wow. James Potter finally over Lily Evans. Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Yeah. Well. I don’t know.” James sighs. “I’m sure Snape will be thrilled.”

Remus groans, leaning forward to bang his head on the table. “I cannot hear that name right now.” 

“Wait, what’d he do?” Sirius asks, furrowing his brow.

Remus sighs. “Oh, the usual. Called Lily a- well. I’m sure you know. Said he didn’t want to get any filth on him.”

Sirius and James rise from their seats instantly. “What?” James hisses.

Remus nods. “She doesn’t want another fight though, so I stayed out of it.”

“Fuck that,” Sirius grits, and steps out from behind the bench. 

“Sirius,” Remus warns. 

“That greasy little-”

“James.”

Both Sirius and James look at him desperately, like little kids asking for something they know they can’t have. “We have to do something, Moons.” Sirius growls. 

“I know. We will.” 

James takes a hesitant seat as Pete comes out to join them. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Remus says.
“I’m going to go strangle a snake,” Sirius fumes, and before anyone can stop him, he starts to walk off. 

Remus shoots a pleading look at James, who sighs. “I’m not saying I won’t curse him the next time I see him, but fine. Go after him. Stop him if you must. For Lily.”

Remus nods and goes off after Sirius. He catches up to him in the hall. “Hey. What’s your plan?”

Sirius laughs and shrugs. “I don’t have one. Curse him blind?”

Remus groans. “Sirius…”

Sirius stops dead in the hall and turns to him. “Did he really call her a mudblood? Did he call her ‘filthy’?”

Hearing the words again does nothing to calm the burning fury that’s lingered ever since the incident.

“Yes.” Remus says, and Sirius notes the change in his voice with a nod. 

“There you go.” 

“Still. Lily asked us to stay out of it.”

“Oh, no. She asked you.”

“Sirius-”

“Mr. Black!” 

Both Remus and Sirius look up at Mcgonagall, who stands with her hands clasped in front of them. Her expression is pained and twisted, and Remus instantly knows it can’t be anything good. “Mr. Black.” She says again with a frown.

“Yes Professor?”

“I must ask you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“To Professor Dumbledore’s office.”

Sirius frowns. “Why?”

“Your parents are here to see you.”

Next to him, Sirius freezes, and Remus feels it. Subconsciously, he presses his shoulder against Sirius’s, mind buzzing. “My parents?” Sirius manages. 

“Yes, Mr. Black.”

“You mean… You mean Monty and Effie?”

Something flickers across McGonagall's face, and Remus knows the answer before she says it. “No. I mean Walburga and Orion.” 

Sirius doesn’t move, and Remus swears he can feel his heart beat through the point their shoulders touch. “Why?”

“They will have to tell you. Please come along now, your brother’s already with them.”

“Ok.” Something in Sirius’s face sets, hard. He takes a step, then turns to Remus. “I- I, um- nevermind.” He takes another step. “I’ll be back,” He mutters, then follows McGonagall forward. 

Remus can’t move for a minute, heart pounding. He forces himself to unfreeze, and then he’s running back the way he came. He bursts into the dinning hall and makes a beeline for their table. “James,” he pants, and James looks up sharply at his tone. “Where’s Pete?”

“Went off to find the girls. What’s wrong. Where’s Sirius? What did he do?”

“No he-” Remus gasps for breath. “Wal-Walburga. And Orion. They’re here. Sirius’s gone to see them.”

James shoots to his feet. “What? Why?”

Remus shakes his head. “I don’t know. We need to go. Now. Regulus is already with them.”

With that, James grabs his arm and they take off running, feet slapping the stone floor. “Where?”

“Dumbledore’s office.” They tear down the hall, and Remus appreciates the shared urgency flowing between them. 

“Fuck,” James hisses, and Remus just gasps in response, legs moving as fast as possible. 

 

---

 

Regulus, not for the first time, finds himself sitting sandwiched between his parents. He can feel his mother on one side, viciously arguing with a calm and gentle Dumbledore. His father next to him stays silent, keeping one hand on the arm of Regulus’s chair. Walburga had greeted him with a frown, and told him his hair was too long. Orion ignored him entirely. 

“You obviously don’t understand,” Walburga hisses, leaning across the desk. “That money is ours. Not… not his .” 

“Mrs. Black,” Dumbledore clasps his hands in front of him, and Regulus tries not to be sick. “We’ve already sent for Sirius. He should be here soon and we can settle this whole matter.”

Regulus has to close his eyes. He wonders how much of himself he can fit into his head, how deep he can go. How far he can drown. He got a head start, after all: as soon as Slughorn told him his parents were here, he started to let the water in.

“... te l'ai dit, Regulus, you need to pay attention.” 

Regulus focuses back on the conversation, trying to stay as present as possible. “Sorry, Maman,” He mutters, and she just throws up her hands, exasperated. Regulus hopes Dumbledore doesn’t see his flinch. 

Just then the door opens, and McGonagal enters, followed stiltedly by Sirius. They instantly make eye contact, and for a moment, Regulus can almost pretend they’re on the same side of this - whatever this is. Then Sirius tears his gaze away, and it’s gone.

“Walburga,” Sirius says cooly, crossing his arms. His voice is lazy but his shoulders are stiff, muscles tensed. 

“Mr. Black. Nice of you to join us.” Dumbledore says, gesturing to another chair he conjures. “Please take a seat.”

Sirius shakes his head, and stays standing. “No, thank you. I’d like them gone as quickly as possible.”

Walburga turns her gaze on him. “You think we want to spend another second here? You think we want to have to speak with you? If you’d have just answered any of our letters-”

“I burned them,” Sirius hisses with a smirk.

“Of course you did.” Walburga growls, and Regulus can see her fingers tighten on her chair. “You have no right to that money, boy.” 

“Oh, please,” Sirius snorts. “It’s not like you need it. And Uncle-” 

“He is not your uncle.” Orion says coolly, looking at Sirius for the first time. “He stopped being your Uncle when you left this house.”

Regulus notices, immediately, when Sirius’s eyes flick to meet his, then find their father. “Is that right? Why didn’t he say that in the will, then? Pretty sure he addressed it to ‘my nephew, Sirius’.” 

Regulus turns back around in his chair and stares at the opposite wall. The white paint glistens, not a chip in sight. Regulus watches as a bead of condensation rolls down a painting frame. 

“If everybody would please stay calm, I’m sure we could-”

“Silence, le vieillard. This is between us and him.”

“Actually, it’s not, because I have to get to quidditch practice.” 

The drop hangs on the corner of the painting, waiting. Gathering. 

“Mr. Black. Please don’t leave this room until-”

“That money’s mine, Professor. I don’t care. I don’t want them here. I don’t want to see them anymore.”

Another drop runs down and joins the first, and the whole thing shakes with Sirius’s footsteps. 

“Sirius Orion Black, I order you to-”

“I am not your fucking son.”

The door slams, and the droplet falls, landing on the wood of the floor. Regulus can no longer feel his own breath. 

“Mrs. Black, Mr. Black, if you could kindly stay in here-”

“Regulus, get up.”

Then there are nails digging into his arm, and he’s being yanked from his seat. He stumbles but rights himself, following his mother out of the room and after Sirius. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. One-

When they make it into the hall, Sirius whirls on them. “What do you think you’re going to get out of me?”

Walburga tuts. “If you’d have a simple conversation with us-”

“Oh? Now you want a conversation? Last time we saw each other, there wasn’t much talking involved.” 

Regulus forms his hand into a fist, nails finding their familiar groves on his palm. 

“Listen, you br-”

“Sirius!”

And Regulus freezes, because he knows that voice. God, does he know that voice. 

James and Remus skid to a stop, obviously running and out of breath. Sirius sends them a grateful look. “Are you ok?” Remus asks. 

“Fine. I’m trying to get them to leave.”

“I’ll help,” James growls, taking a step forward. 

“Don’t worry, Potter.” (Regulus has the urge to claw that name out of her throat and take it somewhere safe and warm, somewhere she can’t reach) “You can have him,” Walburga spits. “We just need-”

“You aren't getting a sickle,” Sirius hisses. 

“You heard him.” Remus says forcefully, and Regulus decides right then and there that he likes Remus Lupin. 

But then someone’s behind him, and he can feel their breath on his neck. He recognizes it immediately, of course. His father always smells of cigar smoke and leather- the hallowed halls of Hogwarts do nothing to change that. 

Orion grips Regulus’s shoulder and murmurs in his ear. “That money is rightfully yours. Don’t you agree?”

Regulus’s eyes lock on James, who’s staring at him. Trying to stay as still as possible, Regulus forces himself to nod. Orion squeezes his shoulder in what could’ve been a calming gesture, but isn’t. “Then you will help us get it. Won’t you?”

“Oui, Papa.” Regulus says. 

“Good. Talk to him. Now.” Regulus feels it, the threat in his voice. He knows a warning when he hears one. 

“Sirius,” He says, and feels the word get caught on its way out. 

“Oh, do you have something to say?” Sirius growls, turning on him. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

“I-”

“Did Maman and Papa miss their special boy?”

Regulus seals his lips shut, staring at Sirius. Trying to communicate. They’ve once again ended up where they always seem to be: Regulus begging him to just listen and Sirius refusing. At the top of the stairs, Dumbledore’s door creaks open. Regulus makes a decision and moves forward, till he’s right in front of Sirius and James. “If you do it, they won't hurt you.” It’s not the first time he’s said those words, and Sirius knows it. Regulus watches their impact, watches him take a step back. He knows he’s remembering that night. 

He feels no satisfaction. 

“They can’t hurt me either way, Reg.” Sirius says quietly. “I’m not their son anymore, remember? 

Regulus searches his eyes for something, anything, pity or remorse or fear or kindness- and comes up with nothing but anger. “You’re making a mistake,” He hisses. 

“Why are you still acting as their puppet?” Sirius takes a step forward, and Regulus holds his ground. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles. “You’re afraid if I don’t agree they’ll take it out on you, is that it? Hm. Shame. You made your choice.” Sirius looks him over once, and the disgust in his eyes is almost too much for Regulus to take. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “You’ll have to face this one on your own.”

 

---

 

James doesn’t know what to do. He’s learned, by now, how to read Regulus. Even behind the mask. Sirius too, though he does a lot less to hide his emotions. But right now… James has no idea what’s happening in their heads. They’re staring at each other, and James can do nothing but watch. Wait. 

“Fine. Refuse. I really do not care.” Regulus’s voice is cold. “It’s your choice.”

Sirius opens his mouth then closes it, obviously at a loss. “I…”

“Regulus.” Walburga’s voice. James hates the way Regulus stiffens, turning to face her. She glides over the floor towards them, and Sirius takes a step back, towards Remus. Regulus stays put. James resists the urge to pull his wand. 

She takes her place next to her son, looking Sirius over with a slight sneer. “Have you had no effect?”

“Sorry Mother,” Regulus monotones, still staring at Sirius. “He refuses.”

“Why are you here then, if you have no purpose?” 

“I don’t know. Shall I return to class?” 

James wants to reach out and pull him away from her. He doesn’t move. 

“No.” Walburga crosses her arms over her chest. “Can you not appeal to him at all?”

Regulus reaches up and rubs his shoulder subconsciously. “I don't think he can be reasoned with.”

Walburga yanks Regulus’s hand down, shoving it to his side. “Don’t do that. Do not fidget.”  Regulus says nothing. James tries to catch his eye, but can’t. “Useless,” Walburga mutters. Regulus just stares. 

“May I return to class?”

Dumbledore comes downstairs, clearing his throat. “Soon, Mr. Black. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Potter. I’m afraid this doesn’t concern you.”

“They stay.” Sirius says, and James breathes a sigh of relief.

Dumbledore studies him for a moment. “Very well. Would we like to move this back into my office?”

“No.” Sirius glares at everyone, and James can see how little he has left in him. How close he is to breaking. “I want them gone. I’m done talking about this.”

“I will be contacting someone from the Ministry,” Walburga says, looking from Dumbledore to Sirius. “About both of you. There’s something to be done.”

“Go for it. But leave, now. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“You ungrateful little brat. After all we’ve done for you-” 

Sirius snaps, anger flooding out in waves. “You’ve done nothing for me! None of you have. That house was a hell hole, and I’m glad I got out. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t owe you anything, including a galleon of my inheritance. The House of Black! J'espère que vous pourrissez tous.”

Orion takes a step back and Walburga just narrows her eyes. There’s something in Regulus’s face James can’t quite decipher, but doesn’t like nonetheless. 

Sirius wheels around. Remus grabs his arm, but Sirius tosses him off. “Don’t. I need to be alone.” 

James can do nothing but watch as his best friend stalks off. He and Remus exchange a look. “Let's give it five,” He mutters. Remus nods. 

“Why aren't we going now?” 

James clears his throat. He looks back up at Regulus. He can see the tremor in his hand he’s trying so desperately to hide. “Just…” He glances back at Remus. “You can go. See if you can find him, but the map’s back in the dorm.” 

“James.” 

James takes a deep breath and looks his friend in the eyes. Remus takes a step towards him and casts a meaningful glance towards Regulus. “I don’t know what you’re doing. But be careful. Please.”

James looks down. “I will.” he mutters. 

With that, Remus turns and starts off after Sirius. James turns back to the others, addressing Walburga. “You can do whatever you want. But he’s with us now. I won’t let you get your claws in him again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Potter. I’m sure your home has been just the calming environment he needed.” Walburga tilts her head. “How’s your father?”

James takes a staggering step back, seeing red. Regulus clears his throat, interrupting James’s plan to fully launch himself at her. “Maman, if this is temporarily settled, I need to return to class.”

“Regulus.” Her voice is harsh as she grabs his arm. James notices Regulus’s wince, and it does nothing to temper the fire burning within him. “You will not disappoint.” It’s more of an order than a statement.

“No, Maman.”

“Go. We’ll write.” She releases him with a shove and Regulus is gone, walking past James without so much as a glance in his direction. James sends one last glare at Walburga and Orion and then follows Regulus, raising one middle finger in their direction.

As soon as they turn the corner, James catches up to Regulus, walking next to him. He can hear the other boy’s breath, and the sound is slightly grounding. “Reg-”

But Regulus just shakes his head sharply, silent. They move quickly through the halls, and James knows immediately where they're going. They find their destination quickly and the door appears right on cue. Regulus opens it and goes in, not waiting to see if James follows. He does, of course. 

Regulus stops in the middle of the room, facing away from him. His shoulders heave with deep breaths, the rest of him unnaturally still. James watches him for a moment then walks over, not touching. Not yet. 

“Regulus.”

Regulus turns to look at him then, and James’s heart cracks slightly. Reg’s eyes are wide, scared. All his guards are down, and James can see the effort its taking to keep them that way. “I’m sorry.” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t think they’d show up here.”

“It’s alright. Hey, can I touch you?”

Regulus hesitates for a second then nods, and James enfolds him in his arms. Kisses the top of his head. Tries to banish everything his mother has ever done to him, expelling her touches and curses with his lips. “Come on, love.” he whispers, pulling him to the couch. Settling down, seating Regulus next to him. 

Regulus wraps his arms around himself. James swallows. “What did Sirius say? At the end? I don’t speak French.”

Regulus’s lips twist unpleasantly. “Nothing good.”

“No. No, I didn’t think so.”

“I’m… sorry she said something about your father. I didn’t think she’d go there.” Regulus shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “I don’t know why. Of course she would.”

“It’s ok.”

“Shit, you’re going to have to deal with Sirius now and everything. God.”

“Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“...Yes?”

“Why won’t you come home with me?”

Regulus closes his eyes briefly. “James.” His voice is already fatigued.

“Just- I don’t understand.” Because he doesn’t, he really doesn’t, and at this point he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t care what Regulus is about to say. 

“I can’t.”

“Yes, but you can though. You can. We have an extra room, and my parents will be more than happy to have you, especially after they find out what you did for my dad, and Sirius- I’ll make him deal with it.” James sits forward. 

“That’s not how that works.”

“Then tell me how it works, please, because I need to know. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

Regulus shakes his head, standing up. James misses his presence on the couch. “I- I’m in it now, James. This is my life, and I can’t run, despite how easy it was for my brother. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

And that’s not nearly good enough for James. “But you want to, don’t you? You want to go. Right?”

Regulus just stares at him, something unreadable reflected in his gaze. “James-”

“Come back with me. Don’t stay with them. They’re- they’re awful. I don’t see how you can bear it.”

“I love them.” Regulus whispers, and the words tear at James’s stomach.

“How?” He asks before he can help it. 

“They’re my parents.” 

James narrows his eyes. “They hurt you.”

Regulus just shakes his head. “They love me.”

James frowns. “Regulus-” 

“I can’t, James.”

“But-”

“No. I told you. This is what we get. This. I won't go. I won’t go. Will you ?” 

What? “What? Regulus- of course not. Of course I won’t.” Then James is standing too, and reaches out to him. 

Reg watches him slightly distrustfully, walls up. James offers him a small smile. “Reg. Please. We don’t have to talk about this.”

He takes his hand, gently, and pulls him forward, taking a seat on the couch. Regulus stands between his legs, looking down at him. Almost as if he can’t stop himself, Reg reaches out and runs a hand through James’s hair. James grins, leaning in to the feeling. Regulus leans down and lifts James’s chin, kissing him gently. James’s hands find Regulus’s body and he pulls him down, pulls him closer.

Regulus takes a step then, carefully and with no small amount of hesitation, settles onto James’s lap. James smiles against his mouth. 

“Mmm.” He hums, running a thumb over Regulus’s pulse point. “What do you want?”

Regulus’s eyes fix on James’s lips. “Distract me.”

James grins. “I can do that.” 

 

---

 

When James finally leaves, it’s late. He only goes because he needs to find the others and get to the shrieking shack before Remus changes- and times ticking. It’s the full moon tonight, something he’d almost forgotten until it was nearly too late.

The castle is quiet in the evening dusk, gentle sounds here and there. Mostly, everything stays still, cast in a purple glow. James finds Sirius leaning up against a wall on the way back to the common room, inspecting his nails. When he notices James he looks up with a sharp grin. It was almost jarring, especially after the last time James had seen him. 

“Prongs! You’re back.”

“Sirius- what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the shack already?” James looks around. “Where’s Remus? Where’s Pete?”

But Sirius just shrugs. “Haven't seen them since lunch.”

Something cold drips down James’s spine. “What? Moony didn’t find you?”

“Nope.” Sirius smiles. 

“Did he look for you?”

Sirius shrugs again. 

“Did you look for him?”

“Eh. For a bit. Then I ran into someone a lot more interesting.”

And James knows, just from the look on his face. “Snape.”

Sirius smirks, eyes glittering. James moves forward, feeling like something’s gone very, very wrong. “Lily told Remus we should stay out of it. Sirius, what did you do?” 

Sirius shrugs again, still smiling. “Nothing he didn’t deserve. They should be at the shack by now. In a minute we’ll go down and I’ll show you.”

James can’t think through his rising panic. “ They? Sirius- show me what?”

Sirius grins, all sharp teeth and pointed fangs. “What I did.” 

The world stands still. James could swear the birds stop chirping in the trees, holding their collective breath. James stumbles back, staring at him. “Did you- Did you tell Snape about Remus?”

Which is a stupid question. 

Because he didn’t, right?

Because James is just over reacting.

Because he couldn’t.

Because he would never. 

Because he’s Remus’s best friend. 

Because-

Sirius waves a hand. “Oh, no. Not that.” 

James gasps, flooded with powerful, shameful, relief.

“I just told him how to get under the tree.” 

Notes:

You knew it was coming

(sorry)

J'espère que vous pourrissez tous = I hope you rot

Thank you for all of your sweet comments!

Chapter 25: The Shack

Summary:

I feel like you guys know what's coming

Notes:

I'm tired so the writing on this ones a bit iffy but best believe the angst's not over yet

Beneath his feet, the ice tears and snow kicks up behind him. James is running, fast, tripping across the grounds towards the willow. The air bites at his face, his hands, his lips. His breath- what’s left of it anyway- crystallizes into a cloud in front of him before he smashes through it. 

There are tears somewhere, ready, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. Not when the panic in his chest is all consuming; choking and strangling him from the inside out. Any tears he might’ve shed freeze before they can fall. 

Part of him is still laughing, still giddy at his stupidity. It’s a prank, he thinks, he knows , embarrassed for reacting so strongly. Sirius is just pranking him. He didn’t actually do it. He would never actually do it. James is going to get to the shack and find Remus and Pete laughing, in on it, Snape obliviously tucked in his bed back in the dungeons.  

But there are three sets of footprints where there should be two- and the look on Sirius’s face, the grin that seemed not so much forced as instinctual , keeps his feet moving. Keeps his heart pounding and his lungs aching. The snow, more hail than flakes now, feels like bullets against his skin. He wonders if it’s blood or tears running down his cheeks before he decides it doesn’t matter. 

His foot catches and he stumbles and falls, landing hard in the ice. It's cold and bitter and it aches - and then James is back on his feet and moving again. 

He reaches the willow and dives for the knot, slamming his palm against it and probably bruising a few knuckles in the process. The roots part and the tunnel opens, and before James can think he throws himself through. 

He can hear voices, shouting, yelling. He runs faster. “Remus?” He cries, too scared to care about how desperate he sounds. “Peter?”

“James!” The sound of pure panic lacing Pete’s voice turns James’s world to crumbling ash. It’s a horribly devastating conformation. He doesn’t have time to think about what it means. 

He stumbles up the stairs, into the hallway. His blood runs cold at the sight that greets him. Remus is kneeling on the other side of the room, bent over himself, nails digging into his shoulders. He’s going to change- and soon. Peter is standing in the doorway, eyes wide. 

Snape is waiting at the top of the stairs, wand drawn and pointed at Remus. 

James stumbles to a stop.

“Potter?” Snape hisses, and he sounds scared too.

“James, James-” Remus is gasping, choking, and James chest clenches. “Snape- you have to get him out- I can’t-” He cuts himself off with an agonized cry, doubling over further. 

James pulls out his own wand, pointing it at Snape. “You have to leave. Now! Go!”

Snape stumbles back, long black hair swinging. “What’s happening to him? What’s he doing?”

Remus lets out another pained sob, and James knows its starting. “Snape, I'm begging you. Peter- get him out! Why haven't you gotten him out?”

But Pete just shakes his head. “He- he won’t leave. I can’t…” 

“Ugh!” James cries out in frustration as Remus tips over, curling into a ball on the floor. Snape moves exactly where James doesn’t want him: into the room. 

“What’s going on?” He asks again, nearly terrified. James takes no pleasure in the sound. 

And then it happens- Remus’s skin starts to split itself open, fur and teeth ripping through. Snape gives a shocked cry as Remus convulses. “What the fuck? What the fuck is happening to him?” And he’s backing up, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. 

Remus lets out another cry that turns to a growl halfway through, and James wants to scream. He can’t change into Prongs, not with Snape here, not when he needs to make sure they all get out alive. And Peter’s stuck as Peter- not that he’d do much good as a rat, anyway. Remus does change though, wolfish body trembling and convulsing, starting to flesh itself out. Snape lets out a hoarse laugh. “Is that fucking- is that a wolf? Is it a werewolf?”

And somehow- Merlin knows why- he hasn’t seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation yet. James yanks his arm, nearly begging. “You have to go. Now. We have to leave.”

“But-”

It takes them both by surprise when the werewolf lunges. James has the good sense to throw himself back. Snape does not. He nearly screams when a claw drags across his chest, ripping through his shirt. He hits the back wall of the hallway, throwing a hex at the wolf. Immediately Moony lets out a howl, spurts of blood erupting from his shoulder. James instinctually jumps on Sirius, forcing his wand arm down.

“Don’t-” He gasps, acutely aware of Snape’s warm blood seeping through his shirt. 

“Are you bloody mental?” Snape cries. “That- That thing -”

James wheels him around, shoving him towards the stairs. Snape grabs onto his tie and before he knows it James is falling too, tumbling through the air. He lands on his back, hard, wind knocked out of him. For a moment it’s as if all the air has been shoved out of his body, and he’s left silently trembling. Then everything rushes back in and the wolf appears at the top of the stairs. Peter stands behind it, quaking. 

Next to him, Snape lies bleeding and unconscious. 

James forces himself to his feet, unbalanced and still gripping his wand. The wolf seems to stumble, and for a second James thinks Peter’s cursed it, but another second and he realizes Moony’s doing it to himself. Like something in him’s fighting the wolf- fighting the urge to tear and maim and kill. 

James tries to pull Snape up, tries to get him standing, but he’s limp and useless in James’s arms. James curses loudly and looks back up the stairs. “Peter!”

“I don’t know- James, how is he here? How did he know?” Peter’s voice cracks and breaks, his cheeks flushed and pink.
James' stomach twists and he fights the urge to be sick. “It doesn’t matter. I need you to get Snape to the hospital wing. I’ll stay with Moony.”

The wolf crashes into the wall before heading directly for James and Snape. Peter gasps, taking a step back. “Peter!” James cries, holding on tighter to Snape’s useless body. 

Pete squeaks, promptly turning into a rat. He slips out from the neck of his sweater and darks between the wolf’s legs, turning back at the bottom of the stairs. He charms on some underwear and grabs Snape, moving quickly. 

The wolf lunges again, jaws snapping, and James has no choice but to strike out, hitting it across the face. “Peter, please,” He gasps, and behind him the other boy makes a small sound. “Ok. I’ll- god. Fuck.” He runs back up the tunnel, and James can hear his footbeats on the dirt ground, accompanied by the drag of Snape’s body. 

And then it’s just James and the wolf, and a flood of relief nearly overwhelms him. Because he knows how to handle that, at least. This is nothing new. 

James turns, feeling his head grow antlers and his senses heighten yet dull at the same time. His emotions become muddled, as if his thoughts are submerged underwater. And yet he can smell everything, see everything, hear everything. Like the Werewolf at the top of the stairs, watching him with gleaming yellow eyes. 

James canters up the steps clumsily, nudging the werewolf’s chest with his head, carefully avoiding using his antlers. He’s tired and achy and needs to sleep, and the wolf’s breathing tells him he does as well. James can smell the exhaustion on him, and somewhere buried under it, the shame. He doesn’t dwell on it.

He moves back into the shack, expecting Moony to follow, but he doesn’t. The stag turns and watches as the wolf creeps up the tunnel towards the exit- a shock of alarm running through him at the sight. That’s not right. The wolf shouldn’t go that way. That’s where- that’s who- 

But James can’t think except to trot behind the wolf, following it carefully. They get out, into dark moonlight night air, and James can smell blood. He smelt it in the shack too, but it was expected there. Here… not so much. 

He huffs and notices little drops of red on the white snow, such a stark contrast that it’d be hard to miss. Moony notices too, letting out a low growl and stalking forward. Prongs skitters in front of him, nudging him towards the woods. There’s humans out here somewhere, bleeding, and all James knows is he can’t let the wolf near them. Eventually Moony goes, albeit hesitantly, towards the woods. The puff of air James lets out turns the air into white shards that hover before dissipating. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

 

---

 

When James finally has the sense to change, Remus is laying on the floor of the shack, close to naked. James feels his antlers recede, feels his form shift, now long used to the odd feeling that sends shivers racking his body and his stomach churning. When he comes to he forces himself to crawl over to his pants, slipping them on clumsily. He turns back to Remus, who’s fully unconscious and bleeding. 

His mind stutters to a stop. 

What? 

What went wrong?

Where was everyone?

What happene-

James lets out a gasp, an actual physical gasp, when he remembers. He clutches his hands over his mouth and bends over. It all comes rushing back and it hurts. 

Everything’s muddled and ugly, and James can’t think clearly. It’s like there’s a hole somewhere in his head and all his thoughts are being pulled towards it, a doomed sort of gravity sending them circling the drain with a disconcerting urgency before vanishing completely, dragged down somewhere James can’t reach right now. And there, amongst the betrayal and the confusion and the hurt, his best friend slips away with them. 

And James’s crying now, and trembling, and he has to force himself to move because if he sits here in this pain for another second he’s going to combust. He craws to Remus, hands running helplessly over his bare and scared chest. There’s a cut, aside from the one on his shoulder, stretching from his neck to his cheek. There’s blood, too much to be even close to healthy, dripping from his shoulders and running down his sides. 

James pushes against the wound, trying to remember any healing spells that would work on this type of cut. What did Snape do? What sort of curse was this? 

Blood seeps between his hands and James’s shaking fingers do their best to draw his wand. With no other option he casts a bandaging charm, watching as thick white gauze wraps around Remus’s shoulder. The blood will soak through. But right now-

Remus stirs with a soft moan, eyelids fluttering. “Sirius?”

Oh. 

God. 

James shakes his head, doing his best to make soothing noises. “It’s just me, Rem. It’s ok. You’re going to be fine.”

And Remus’s eyes catch on the blood adorning James’s hands, and widen slightly. “I hurt you again. Oh god, I’m so sorry- James-”

There are tears on his lashes and he looks like he’s about to pass out again, and James can’t take it. “No, Remus, I'm fine. I promise. You didn’t hurt me. I need to try something on you, though.” Because already patches of red were showing through Remus’s bandages. He unwinds them and points his wand at the ugly wound. 

“S-Snape. Snape was here. James, how was Snape here?”

And because he doesn’t want to answer, because he can’t answer, James mutters a choked “Episkey.” 

It nearly does nothing- but the blood stems a bit. It hurts though, and Remus lets out a small sound, deep in his throat, eyes rolling back into his head. He’s knocked out again, and James can’t help feeling better now that he has a bit more time to explain. 

He leans over, resting his forehead on Remus’s chest, listening to the slow swell of his breath. It’s comforting, just hearing him breathe. Just hearing him be alive. 

“James?”

It’s a small, cracked, pitiful sound, and it comes from the doorway. James doesn’t turn around. Can’t, really, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he has to look at Sirius right now. 

“James? Is he- is he alright? Is he hurt?” 

“Get out.” It comes out as more of a growl than anything else. 

“James-” He can hear Sirius take a step back. “What-”

“Get out. Now.”

“Please, just, is he ok? Is he-”

When James turns, he knows what Sirius'll see. He knows what he looks like, covered in blood and hunched over an unconscious Remus. He knows that the rage in his eyes- the rage he’s never directed at Sirius before- must be overwhelming. Sirius cowers against the far wall, and in all James’s years knowing him, he’s never looked so scared. Not when he showed up at James’s house in the middle of the night. Not even yesterday, when he had to look his parents in the eyes for the first time all year. 

It changes nothing. 

“Get. Out.” 

“James, please,”

James hand drifts towards the wand lying near him. Sirius's eyes track every movement. “Out.” 

He sees the change in Sirius’s face, the way he re-evaluates the extent of the situation. Sirius takes a step, stumbling a bit, before fleeing completely. James hears his footfalls on the stairs and the creak of the wood as he leaves the tree. 

James feels more than sees when his tears drip from his chin and land with gentle plops on the floor. 

 

---

 

Peter and James are by Remus’s side when he wakes up. James has his head in his hands, trying to think. 

The hospital wing is silent, the only sound Remus’s gentle breath and Snape’s across from him. 

Dumbledore has come in twice and left, James and Peter recounting what happened each time. It was just them now, just them and Snape and Remus. 

Until it’s not. The door to the hospital room opens and Sirius enters, Dumbledore behind him. Dumbledore leans down and whispers something to him, then turns to go. Sirius, avoiding James and Pete’s eyes, shuts the door and starts to walk towards them. 

“Sirius?” Peter stands up. “Did you actually- why would you-”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispers. “I’m so so sorry and I can’t- I don’t know what to tell you- I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You certainly knew what to tell Snape.” James mutters, refusing to look at him. He keeps his eyes firmly planted on Remus’s sleeping face. 

“James, please,”

“Stop.” 

“Sirius? James? Pete?” Remus sits up on his elbows, blinking a bit and then staring at them intensely. His voice is still murky with sleep. “What happened?” 

He looks around and sees Snape in the bed across from him, and fully raises himself up. “Oh. Oh fuck. I remember- I-” His breathing is starting to escalate now, harsh gasps making him clutch the bed sheets covering his waist. “Is he alright?”

James leans down to clasp his uninjured shoulder. “He’s fine, Moons. Doesn’t deserve to be, absolute git.” He does his best to laugh, but there’s something a little off about it. 

Remus holds the blankets tighter. There’s a new scar stretching up his neck and cheek, matching the one across his nose. “How did he know how to get past the tree?”

Neither of them move, absolutely silent. James can feel his heartbeat pressing against his ribs. 

He sees it, as Remus puts the pieces together. It wouldn’t be Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey, so it had to be one of them. One of the Marauders. His eyes flick between them, and inexplicably, lands on Peter. “Who-”

Peter’s eyes dim slightly. “I didn’t. I was there with you, remember?”

Remus nods slightly, brows pinching, breath hitching. James knows what's coming but still isn’t prepared when Remus, almost subconsciously, looks to him next. He wipes at his eyes furiously, but the look he gives him must tell Remus all he needs to know. James watches as his face cracks open at the realization. The betrayal and the disbelief and the absolute devastation raw and open for everyone to see. His shoulders are shaking now, and he turns to look at Sirius with a burning fury that makes James want to stand in the way- to protect Sirius or Remus, he’s not sure which. 

“Why?” Remus whispers, and Sirius begins to cry, pitiful and graceful as ever.

“Moons I’m so-”

“That’s not my name.”

Sirius lets out a sob. “Remus, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean to? What the fuck did you mean to do?” 

“I didn’t think he’d actually go.”

“Yes you did.” Remus sneers, still glaring. “Yes, you did.”

“Please-”

“Mr. Black!” Madam Pomfrey bustles out of her office, face stern and rigid. “Mr. Black. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Snape must rest. You are disturbing the quiet.”

Sirius looks up at her, sniffing, and James feels no sympathy. “Can you just wait a second? Please? I’ll go in a second. I just need to talk to him. Just for a moment.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Black. You've got to go now.” 

“Fine. Moony, I’ll find you, I’m sorry-”

“Out, Mr. Black.”

“Ok. Ok, I’m going.” He looks back over his shoulder as he goes. None of them meet his gaze, save Remus, who holds it with a glare. Peter follows him out a second later and Madam Pomfrey disappears back into her office. 

James turns to Remus just in time to see him finally break down. He bends over, gripping his sides as he begins to choke, and then to cry. “Why would he…”

James’s heart breaks as he crawls onto the bed next to Remus, wrapping him in his arms, holding him tight as possible. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

He’s shaking into James’s chest, and there’s nothing James can say, can do, except hold his head and let him cry. 

When he leaves, Remus is fast asleep and James’s own emotions are starting to crash back into him. The door handle of the hospital wing is rough on his fingers, cutting into them in a way it never used to. He can feel something rising, the feelings he’s been shoving down all night and morning starting to take their revenge. Before he can do anything- vomit, probably- Marlene rounds the corner and stops at the sight of him. 

“James?”

He smiles, bright and happy, putting everything back in his place. He can wait to have his breakdown for a little longer. “Hey Marls. What’s up?”

“Sirius and Peter are arguing. What’s going on? Is everything alright?” She crosses her arms, and James waves a hand.

“Eh. it’s just some disagreement around a prank. It’ll blow over soon.” He takes a steadying breath. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She snorts. “If you say so. Merlin. Where you headed?” 

James’s brain stumbles to find a suitable answer. “Uh- transfiguration.”

“Right.” She cocks her head at him. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. Breakfast then.”

“Mhm.” She laughs. “I have no idea how you’re the top of our class.”

“I’m not,” He says indignantly. "Lily is gonna be so upset when I tell her you just said that."

"Shit. Potter, if you even think about telling-"

“Oh, you know I will.”

"I take back everything nice I've ever said about you." 

“I can’t hear you over the sound of all my good grades!” James grins, holding his hands over his ears and backing away. 

Marlene glares at him, but she’s laughing too. “What?”

He just sticks out his tongue at her and turns around, managing to get five paces away before his face crashes down. 

It’s fine. He can handle this. He held it together in front of Marlene, didn’t he? He just needs to find a way to put everyone back how they’re supposed to be. It’s what he does best.  

He just needs to breathe. 

He needs to eat something, probably. 

He needs to find a place where he can actually think. 

He needs to slow everything down. 

He needs to breathe. 

He needs-

He-

He needs Regulus. 

 

---

 

“I just don’t understand,” Barty says again, chewing on the feather of his quill. Regulus wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

“We have thirty minutes before breakfast. Why are you doing homework right now?”

Barty rolls his eyes. “Because, Reg, I obviously did not do it yesterday and it is due today. First period, actually. So if you could just explain-”

“I will not be doing that. Get Dorcas to help.” 

Across from them, nestled in one of the common room arm chairs, Dorcas just flips a page in her book. “You don’t need it Barty, you have some of the best marks in our year.”

“Not in History of Magic. I fall asleep every time that old geezer starts talking and now he’s assigned these questions and if I could get just a bit of help-”

“No.” Dorcas and Regulus say at the same time. 

“Fine.” Barty stands with a huff. “I’m finding Ev. He’d never say no to me.”

“Wonder why,” Dorcas mutters as Barty storms out. 

Regulus slumps into the couch where Barty just was, running a hand over his face. He should really visit the Basilisk today, he thinks. It’s been too long. And he has potions, which shouldn’t be difficult but is definitely something he should really be focusing on. His mother reminded him as much when she visited. 

“Have you seen Snape?” Mulciber asks suddenly, stiff and awkward in the doorway. Dorcas and Regulus just stare at him, non-responsive. Mulciber shifts. “He just didn’t come back to the dorms and I was just wondering- uh. Nevermind.” He turns to go back to his room, muttering a low “gits” under his breath. 

“Have you seen Snape?” Regulus asks, turning to Dorcas. She shakes her head.

“I hope he fell into the bloody black lake.” She sighs, turning back to her book. 

“Hm.”

“Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have to leave again today?”

Regulus tips his head back to look at her. “What?”

She closes her book carefully. “It’s for your… mission, I assume. But you go missing, like, a lot, and none of us really know where you go.”

It’s a toss up, really, if she’s talking about the time he spends with James or the Basilisk. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Can you… Can you really not tell us anything?”

He shakes his head. “No.” In all honesty he has no idea, the Dark Lord never mentioned secrecy as a stipulation- but something in him resists the idea of telling his friends about the Basilisk. He likes it when it’s just them, when it’s just his secret. Not that he doesn’t have enough of those. 

“Hm. But you’re safe?”

Regulus gives her a small smile and a nod. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Barty wants to follow you.”

“Tell him that’s an awful idea and I’ll know if he tries it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Already did. Don’t worry.”

“Good.” He goes back to studying the ceiling and she goes back to her book.

“When will you be done?” She asks a few minutes later. 

Regulus has to think about that. “I’m not sure. Before the end of the year, definitely.” He doesn't like to dwell on that bit.

“And after?”

He goes still. “What?”

“What do you do after you succeed? You take the mark?”

He steals himself, because this is what he was trained for. Raised for. “If that’s what the Dark Lord wishes.”

“And then what?”

Regulus holds her gaze. “What the Dark Lord wishes.” He repeats softly. 

She nods, understanding. “Whatever it takes?” she whispers.

During their 3rd year, Dorcas and Regulus had snuck off during dinner to lay under a tree on the lawns. The evening sun had streamed through the leaves, dappling their features in streaks of warm orange glow. Everything was quiet, all the other kids back inside eating. 

“There’s going to be a war soon,” Dorcas had said, staring up at the sky. 

“I know.”

“My parents said they won’t make me do anything. They want to stay out of it as much as possible.”

Regulus thought that for a minute. “I don’t think my parents are going to stay out of it. They’re already trying to get Sirius to join the Dark Lord. He doesn’t want to.”

“Do you want to?” 

Regulus twirled some grass around his finger, relishing in the feeling of actual dirt. He’d been scrubbed clean for far too long. “I don’t know. I don’t care, really.”

Dorcas turned to look at him, her braids falling across her face. “What do you mean you don’t care? You have to have an opinion, one way or another.”

Regulus shook his head, stubborn like his brother. “No. I don’t. I just- I want to make it to the other side. I want to come out of this war with Sirius and I alive. That’s all.” 

Dorcas furrowed her brow. “You think- you think you won’t? You think you’ll be in danger?” 

Regulus frowned, digging his fingers deeper into the dirt. “That’s what Sirius says. I don’t care who’s side we end up on as long as it’s the one that wins.”

“He said that?”

“Oh, no.” Regulus let out a bitter little laugh. “No. He has opinions. Strong ones, that he’ll fight for. Die for, probably.” 

“So it’s you then.”

“I’m the Slytherin, aren’t I? I’m the coward. Not him.”

Dorcas huffed. “I just think Gryfindors are brave. I don’t think that makes Slytherins cowards.”

“He does.”

“So when it comes time to choose a side, what will you do? Which will you pick?”

“Whichever gets me to the end of this alive. I’ll do whatever they need me to.”

“Whatever it takes?” Dorcas asked then.

Regulus nodded decisively. “Whatever it takes.”

Dorcas hummed then, looking up at the tree. “Good.”

Back in the common room, Regulus just holds her eyes. They’re older now, but she still wears braids. He’s still stubborn as his brother. “Yes.” 

“I’ll help, if you need me to.”

“I know. I’ll ask.”

She just chuckles. “No you won’t.”

Regulus feels the corners of his lips twitch. “Let’s go to breakfast.” 

 

---

 

There’s something off, and Regulus senses it the second he glances at the Gryfindor table. For one- his brother’s sitting alone. Which, for a social butterfly like himself, is odd enough. But Lupin is missing and Pettigrew is picking at his food and James- well. James is a different matter altogether. 

He’s laughing at something Evans said- which would normally make Regulus sullen and jealous, but there’s something rigid in the lines of his shoulders that doesn’t quite sit right. One hand is on his fork and the other is under the table, gripping his leg so hard Regulus can see his white knuckles from the other side of the hall. A drop of concern worms its way into Regulus’s gut. He needs to talk to him. 

He finishes breakfast quickly, not really eating much, and walks around past the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. He comes up next to the Gryfindor table and keeps his chin up, staring straight ahead. No one pays him any mind. Yet as he passes he lets his hand graze James’s back- just a little. Just enough to get his attention. 

He pauses at the door to the Great Hall and finds James already watching him. He meets his eyes and nods his head, just slightly, at the corridor beyond. As predicted James mutters something Regulus can’t hear and stands up. Regulus takes his cue and leaves, heading to the Come and Go room. 

It doesn’t take long for James to find him. 

Regulus turns as the door shuts, taking in James’s appearance. He looks tired. No, he looks exhausted, heavy lidded eyes red and baggy. He meets Regulus’s eyes with a small forced smile. 

“Hey love,” He whispers and his voice cracks. 

Regulus immediately moves towards him, studying his face carefully. “What's wrong?”

James shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

Regulus sends him a look. “James.”

“I can’t- I’m fine.”

But he’s not, and it’s so obvious that Regulus wonders why James is even making the effort. “If I’m not allowed to use my Glamour around you, you aren’t allowed to hide.” Regulus runs a thumb under James’s eye, over his cheekbone.  Even now, even still, the touch feels new and exciting. He's allowed to do this now- allowed to comfort him however he pleases.

James looks like he’s been crying. He sinks into the touch, and Regulus lets out a soft breath. A thought strikes him. “Is your father ok?”

“Yeah,” James nods. 

He moves to the couch and sinks down, and after a second Regulus joins him. That’s always how these little meetings seem to go, he realizes. One of them comforting the other. One of them putting the other back together. 

He runs his fingers through James’s hair, reveling at it’s softness. It hurts him sometimes, physically hurts him, how much he feels when James is around. How much he’s let him invade his life. It’s vulnerable and terrifying. 

James makes a small sound and tips into him, burying his head into Regulus’s shoulder. And Regulus- Regulus doesn’t know what to do with that. When his father got sick, James was devastated, obviously. But there was a hopefulness to it as well, a burn that kept him moving. He used his hurt to fuel his drive. But now, James isn’t hopeful. He’s just tired and dejected and all too sad, and Regulus is left confused. He frowns and pulls James into him, running his fingers lightly over the other boy’s back. 

“We have class soon,” James whispers into his shirt. 

Regulus shakes his head softly. “I don’t care.” He’ll bow down to his parents over many things, but not this. Not James. He can miss a few classes.  

James wraps his arms around Regulus’s torso and takes a shaky breath. “Sorry.”

Regulus just traces another pattern onto James’s back and doesn’t dignify the apology with a response. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” He murmurs. “But if you want to- I mean- I guess I’m here.”

James lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re so good at this.”

Regulus frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

James just hugs him tighter. “Thank you. It’s fine. I’m over reacting. It’s just- it’s Sirius.”

Regulus goes rigid and knows James feels it. “What did he do?”

And for once, James doesn’t try to defend his best friend or convince Regulus it was nothing that bad. “I can’t tell you. But fuck, Reg, I’m so angry-” 

“Did he hurt you?”

“N-no. Not really. Not me.” 

Regulus frowns and pulls James back so he can look at him. James pouts a little at the loss of contact but goes willingly. “Lupin.” It’s not a question, and he sees the conformation in James’s face. He nods after a moment.

“Yeah.” he sighs. “Lupin.” 

“Was it bad?” Regulus asks, though he knows the answer to that question as well. Of course it was. In all his years at Hogwarts he’d never seen James and Sirius separated, not really. But this- this was different. This was bad. 

“I can’t look at him,” James hisses. “I can’t look at him without wanting to hit him, which is so awful, I know how awful that is, especially with Sirius. But I can’t- I don’t know how to deal with what he did.” 

Regulus nods, deep in thought. “If you can’t tell me what he did can you tell me why? He and Lupin… they seemed…”

“Close.” James finishes and Regulus nods. “They are. Were. I don’t know.” He runs a hand over his face. “I don’t know why he did it. I don't think he knows why he did it. Your parents showed up and I think- I think he just freaked out.”

And for some reason that makes Regulus furious. “Of course.” he mutters, glaring at the wall over James’s shoulder. “Naturally.” 

“I don’t blame him for that, for freaking out. But I can’t defend what he did, and now I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“It’s not your job,” Regulus says, looking back at him. “To deal with it.”

James laughs and wipes at his eyes. “But it is. No one else will.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

James just shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’m just- lost.”

“Do you want me to hit him? I will, you know.”

“Ha. No. Somehow I don’t think that will help.”

But Regulus can already feel himself adding this to his list of excuses for hating Sirius Black. He made James cry- and that was reason enough to outright murder him. Long familiar anger begins to burn cold under his skin. 

“He can’t do this,” Regulus whispers, brushing James’s curls away from his forehead. “He can’t go through the world like this, tearing up everything in his path. I won’t let him.”

James laughs softly. “If anyone could stop him, it’d be you. Or-” He cuts himself off as his smile drops slowly. 

“Lupin.” Regulus finishes for him. 

“Er- yeah. He is the only person I’ve ever seen make Sirius calmer. You could kill him but Remus is the only one who can tame him.” James studies his hands. “Merlin.”

Regulus nods. “Well. If he comes back to the dorm tonight with a black eye, don’t be surprised.”

James chuckles and rubs his eyes. Regulus catches his wrist. “Have you slept?”

“No. I’ve been up all night with- dealing with this.” James looks exhausted. Ah. So it was an overnight adventure, then. More pieces of the Remus Lupin puzzle click together in Regulus’s head. 

“You should go back to your dorm to sleep. Take a sick day.” 

“I can’t. I have to be there for Remus. He got the worst of it, and I need to contain the fallout.”

“Where is Lupin? I didn’t see him at breakfast.”

“Oh. Hospital wing.”

Regulus snaps his head to look at him. “What?” he hisses. When James said Sirius hurt him, he didn’t think- he didn’t mean- “He put him in the hospital wing?”

James looks panicked for a second. “Oh! No. No. Well. Kind of. I mean he wouldn’t be there if it weren't for Sirius but… he didn’t put him there.”

Regulus cocks his head at James, thinking. Studying. Gathering what information he knows and trying to form it into a cohesive idea. “Is this a regular thing? Lupin in the hospital wing?”

And at that, James’s face shuts down, which confirms Regulus’s theories. “I…”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to tell me.” 

“Merlin, Reg… I don’t know how I got by for six years without this.” He rests his head on the couch, staring at Regulus. “I knew you’d help. Knew I just needed to see you.”

Regulus forces his face to stay blank, pushing away a smile. “Say the word, James, and I’ll give him a good burn or a permanent pig’s tail or something.” 

James sighs. "Honestly, I'd be lying if I said it hasn't crossed my mind."

Regulus smirks, and James lets his eyes fall closed against the couch, releasing a soft breath. Regulus watches him for another minute, then pulls out his book as they fall into a comfortable silence. 

 

---

 

Regulus makes it out of the Come and Go room in time for Charms, which is on the other side of the castle. He gets there right on time. Regulus is either there or not there, but he’s never late. He slides into his seat next to Evan about 30 seconds before Professor Flitwick enters. 

“Where’d you go?” Evan hisses. Regulus just shakes his head, staying quiet. 

Flitwick bustles up to the head of the room, usually squeaky voice especially reedy today. “We will be working on our essays for class today. As you all know, I don’t normally allow class time to work on projects, so I suggest you all make good use of this gift. Well. Off you pop!” 

Regulus pulls out his parchment, glancing around. Snape wasn’t in his usual seat- or there at all, actually. He thinks back to Mulciber in the common room. “Have you seen Snape?” He asks Evan softly. 

Evan shakes his head. “Mulciber was asking around earlier but neither me nor Barty have seen him all day.”

“You helped Barty with his homework then?”

Evan looks down. “Barely. He knew it already, of course, just had to be reminded.”

Regulus nods, unfolding his parchment. “That seems to be the way it goes with him.”

“He’s smart, you know.” Evan says, not quite meeting his eye. “Smarter than we give him credit for, I think.” 

Regulus looks at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “You’re right.”

“I don’t think he knows it either- how smart he is. His Dad certainly doesn’t tell him.” 

Regulus lets out a little breath, pulling out his ink and quill. “Is he staying at yours or going home for Easter break?”

“I think he’s coming over for the second week. I’m not sure about the rest, but I think his dad’ll insist on him being home for at least some of it. I wish- I don’t know. Nevermind.”

Regulus thinks about all the times Barty's showed up with bruises and another angry story. “Maybe he’ll stop fighting back.”

“That's the worst thing he could do.” Evan says, shaking his head, frustrated. “He’s so proud of what he’s doing- how much he’s managing to rebel against his father’s wishes. It’s- I don’t know. It’s who he is, I guess.”

“Mm.” Regulus stops writing for a second, re-dipping his quill. “He brings it on himself, though. If he just went along with what his father wanted he wouldn’t get hurt so often.”

Evan levels him with a cold stare, accusatory and mean. “Wouldn’t he?”

The words twist Regulus’s stomach with an ugly clench. 

He meets Evan’s gaze. “Careful.” 

“I’m just saying, Reg, I know you hide it but sometimes I think-”

“Evan.” 

Evan sighs, taking the warning for what it is. “Sorry. I… ignore me. I just wish he didn’t have to… I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“His dad told him he wouldn’t get any outstandings on his OWLs.” Regulus starts; a peace offering. “I don’t think it’ll be enough for him to actually study but he might try for once.” 

Evan snorts. “Good.” After another minute of silent writing, he looks up again. “What class do you have next? Do you want to skip?”

Regulus hums. “Astronomy. And no, I can’t miss any classes right now. Besides, Astronomy is rather interesting.”

“You could literally run circles around anyone in that class, I guarantee it.” 

“Yes, well, it's an easy 100. Can I borrow your tie clip?” 

Evan gives him a curious look but immediately slides it off and hands it to Regulus. “May I ask why?”

Regulus shrugs and fastens it to his own tie. “Forgot mine. You’ll get it back.”

“I better.”

When Flitwick passes by again, they each have half their essays done. The bell rings shortly after. 

When Regulus makes it to Astronomy, he half expects Remus not to show up. He’s pleasantly surprised when the door opens and a very tired looking Lupin drags himself through. 

There's a new scar stretching up his neck and cheek, and Regulus studies it carefully. Sirius wouldn’t do that, he thinks. Not to Lupin. Not after what their parents did to him. No matter what James says- that had to be something else. The timing’s too coincidental for something unrelated, though. 

Regulus says nothing as Remus takes his spot at the telescope next to him. Remus sends him a look out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Your face.” Regulus inclines his head. 

Remus looks back out the window, sullen. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How?”

“It’s-” Lupin looks like he’s struggling to find the words. “It’s a family thing.”

“Your family or mine?”

And for a second Remus just stares at him, eyes hard and unwavering. “How-”

“Good morning, my children.” Professor Sinistra strides in with a graceful tilt of her head. “We will be having a group discussion about the correlation between stars and dreams. Did everyone bring their dream journals? We will be comparing them to the tracking charts we’ve been working on.”

Regulus doesn’t look at Lupin as he takes out his journal, but he can feel the other boy’s eyes on him. “Can I borrow a quill?” 

Remus hesitantly hands him one and stays quiet. They don’t talk. The discussion stretches on and becomes nothing productive. 

At the end of class, right before the bell rings, Lupin turns to him. “What did Sirius tell you?” There's a hint of fear lingering haunting his tone. 

“Me and Sirius haven’t spoken,” Regulus answers honestly. “I don’t know anything.” Less honest. “Do you want your quill back?”

“What? Oh- er, yeah. Thanks.”

Regulus holds out his hand and watches with satisfaction as Remus takes what in fact isn’t his quill and is Evans' tie clip. Lupin immediately hisses in pain and drops the clip, eyes going wide at the tingy sound it makes when it hits the floor. 

Silver. 

Regulus stares at him, puzzle pieces all finally clicking into place. The look on Remus’s face that night in the library, when the book had begun to howl. The scars littering his body- a new one each month, it seemed. His unnatural and strange obsession with the moon. Regular visits to the Hospital Wing. And finally- a silver tie clip, laying still and all-telling on the floor. Regulus cocks his head, smirking. 

Lupin drops his hands to his sides, breathing labored. “I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Regulus reaches down and grabs the tie clip. “I thought that was your quill, my mistake.” He holds out Remus’s actual quill, watching expectantly as he stumbles to find something to say. 

“I- it’s not-”

“Take the quill, Lupin. It’s not silver, don’t worry.” 

Remus lets out a choked breath and takes it from Regulus, turning to put it in his bag. Regulus swings his own over his shoulder and smiles slightly at Lupin’s panic. “I’m not going to tell. Stop hyperventilating.” 

“Regulus, please-”

He leaves Lupin standing frozen to the spot as he walks out. 

 

---

 

The Basilisk turns in small circles. For once, they’re out in the actual chamber, not Slytherin’s room. Werewolves?

Yes. What do you know?

Hm. The Basilisk does another circle. They’re old creatures. Not as old as Basilisks, maybe, but as long as there’ve been humans there've been werewolves. My master told me about them. 

Regulus stretches his legs out in front of him where he sits. I think there’s one here. At school. A student.

I wouldn’t be surprised. Dumbledore never did seem to have his students' safety in mind. 

Regulus shakes his head. I don’t think he’s… unsafe, exactly. Not to others. To himself, maybe.  

That still counts. The Basilisk settles down finally, placing her large head right in front of Regulus, releasing a huff of hot air. 

Regulus tentatively reaches out a hand, letting the Basilisk smell it. Carefully he runs his hand down her cheek, over her scar. Isn’t it funny that such different things can hurt people in such similar ways? There’s no difference, he thinks, between the cut on the Basilisk’s face, the long-healed one on his, and the new one on Lupin’s. They all bear their pain in different ways; Regulus covers his, the Basilisk refuses to talk about it and Lupin- well. Lupin has no choice but to show the world. There’s nowhere for him to hide. No matter how hard you might try, it’s impossible to run from your own face. So Lupin just… doesn’t. It’s a part of him now, crusted on with violence and anger and from what Regulus can tell, years of rage. He finds himself a little bit jealous, envious of the ability to turn pain into sharp teeth to bear when the world comes too close. He doesn’t have that privilege and never will, probably.

He gently strokes the Basilisk’s head, marveling at her patience. She really is quite beautiful, he thinks. Her green skin glistens slightly under the light. And not for the first time, Regulus finds himself aching and hollow. 

“Je suis désolé,” He whispers in French, bending over to keep stroking between her swollen-shut eyes. “Comment vais-je te faire du mal?”

Mercifully, the Basilisk doesn’t respond, and neither of them say anything else for the rest of his visit. 

 

Notes:

Comment vais-je te faire du mal: how am I going to hurt you

Chapter 26: Tally Marks

When Remus first boarded the train at the ripe age of eleven, it seemed like everyone knew each other. They didn’t, of course, but Remus had never seen that many kids his age gathered in one place before. His small home out in the Welsh countryside had done very little for his social skills. Every compartment had its doors shut, full of chatty first years, bubbly and spirited. 

Remus had been running a bit late, his mother having to double back for her scarf. He barely got on the train in time and all too soon it began to move. He hadn’t even found a seat yet. He was left stranded in the middle of the hallway, trunk in one hand and ticket in the other, deciding right then and there that Hogwarts might just be worse than home. At least at home he was alone because he had to be- and, here… well. Remus looked around at all the closed doors, the simple truth hitting him in the face like a brick. Here, he was alone because nobody wanted to sit with him. 

“Hey!”

The voice had been bright and all too warm for Remus’s current mood, like an unwelcome sip of hot chocolate. He turned, ready to cuss out or potentially punch the bastard bold enough to interrupt his class-a sulk, and found himself face to face with Sirius Black instead. 

He was younger then, his hair short but no less perfectly styled. His uniform was done up lazily, tie a little too loose, yet he managed to make it look cool. Effortless. There was a glimmer in his eyes that Remus didn’t quite know what to do with and a barely healed split on his lip.

It was the cut that Remus focused on, staring at it intently. There was a brief second, really, very brief- when Remus wondered if this boy understood. If he struggled with the same little issue Remus did. The idea was thrown out immediately- the headmaster wouldn’t let two werewolves into the school. Just the one had taken enough convincing. And yet that small cut, just starting to scar, caught in his head. He would learn later, of course, that cut was just a product of living with Walburga. Who needed to be a werewolf when you had a shitty mother?

“Hey.” Remus tucked his ticket into his pocket, crossing his arms. He eyed the other boy suspiciously. “What do you want?”

The boy flashed him an easy grin, first of many, and jerked his head back the way he came. “Me and some mates got a compartment back that way. You can join us, if you like.”

Remus didn't want pity, especially not from him. “I’ll manage, thanks.”

“I’m not sure there are any other compartments open, is the thing. Come on. We don’t bite.”

I do, Remus thought, but said nothing. The other boy looked him up and down. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lupin. Remus Lupin.”

The boy’s eyes positively lit up. “Lupin? Really? You’re our roommate. Crazy luck, right? God, when James hears about this…”

Remus just stared at him, not sure what to do with so much energy. So much light. 

The boy waved his hand. “I’m Sirius.” (Remus only later noticed he didn’t give his last name.) “Now you absolutely must come sit with us. It’s mandatory, basically.” His accent was posh but also not - like he was trying hard to cover it, bury it under attitude and loose ties.  

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

The boy- Sirius- nodded sagely. “Oh, it is. Trust me. Come on, Peter’s brought a load of chocolate.” 

Oh. Well. He did like chocolate. Sirius tugged on Remus’s arm. Begrudgingly, and for the first of many times, Remus let Sirius Black drag him away. 

That was 6 years ago. Now, Sirius and Remus sit on opposite ends of the table during meal times. Now, Sirius and Remus don’t look at eachother in the halls. Now, Sirius and Remus haven’t talked in two weeks. 

He tried, once. Sirius was sitting at the common room table alone, bent over his homework. Remus had paused, standing just behind him on his way through. He’d taken a steadying breath, and Sirius had turned in his chair to look at him, eyes going wide. Saying nothing. 

Remus had a whole thing prepared, had a speech with sections and headings and bullet points- and it all went to hell the second their eyes met. Because suddenly he was back on that train, standing in the corridor, desperately aching for someone to trust. But this time Sirius hadn’t taken his arm and led him to safer things. This time Sirius had pushed him through the fucking window. 

So he’d felt his eyes harden, felt his face set, and turned away with a scoff. He walked out stoney and cold, leaving Sirius to his transfiguration. 

He hadn’t tried again after that. 

But- Sirius isn’t eating. And Remus doesn’t care, really, he doesn’t, but he can’t remember the last time he saw Sirius take a single bite of food. Which can’t be good, especially since Quidditch season is far from over. 

He tells Peter one night in hushed tones tucked under covers. “Can you just- can you just check to see if he’s eating?”

Peter gives him a look. “Remus…”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Poison the food, if you must. I’d prefer it if you did, actually. Just make sure he eats it.” 

Peter sighs and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

But the next day at breakfast Sirius leaves his full plate on the table, walking out not even halfway through. The same thing happens at lunch. And for some reason, that’s what does it. Sirius stands up and walks out head down and face obscured, a platter of sandwiches going untouched in front of him- and Remus just snaps. He grits his teeth and slams his hands down on the table, pushing himself to his feet and stalking after Sirius. 

“Moony-” James sends him a concerned look that Remus pointedly ignores. 

He follows Sirius into the hallway and around a few corners, waiting until they’re alone. “Sirius!”

At his name, Sirius freezes, every muscle tensing. Remus can see it, the hesitation, as he turns. Remus takes a step forward and Sirius flinches. Remus finds himself not caring. 

“You don’t get to do this. You don’t.”

“I- what?”

“Go back in there and eat something.”

And now Sirius looks truly confused, staring at him in bewilderment. “What?”

Remus can’t control his temper. He never could, really. “I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know why you’re doing it. I don’t care. But you’re- you’re not allowed to fuck up my life and then not even live yours.”

Sirius fully turns to face him, and god- his eyes. Remus chokes on whatever he was going to say and opts to stay silent. “You’re talking to me?”

“No.”

“Right, well-”

But now that he’s started, he can’t stop, and all the words Remus has pent up these last few weeks start to pour out of him. “You wanna know something really fucked up?” Sirius just swallows, and Remus presses on. “When I found out someone told Snape, I looked at Peter first. Then James. James , Sirius. I thought fucking James Potter would betray me before you would. That’s how much- that’s how much I-” He cuts himself off with a bitter chuckle. God, sometimes he forgets how much he hates himself. Each reminder is a knife to the chest.

Sirius shifts, and Remus can’t look at him. “Moony, I’m so sorry.”

Remus just shakes his head, more sad than angry now. “That’s still not my name.”

“Remus. Please.”

“Why?” And then he does look at Sirius, fighting back the cascading waves of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Why would you fucking do that, Sirius?” 

A tear slips over Sirius's cheek, and he swipes at it quickly. Not quite quick enough, though- Remus still sees. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Why you ruined my life?” 

“My parents showed up and I… I don’t know. Pretty much blacked out. I ran into Snape and I was just so angry-” He shakes his head, letting out a breath. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Course you weren't.”

“I didn’t mean to. Remus, I’m so sorry. ”

Remus can’t even begin to respond to that, so he doesn’t. “Regulus knows, by the way.” He keeps his tone bitter and accusatory, even if it isn’t Sirius’s fault. At the very least he wants him to feel like it is.

Sirius’s eyes flash, head snapping up. “What?” Remus just nods, staring at him. Sirius takes a step forward. “I didn’t tell him, I swear to god- you have to believe me. I wouldn’t- I didn’t tell him.”

Remus rolls his eyes, suddenly itching to be out of Sirius’s sight. “I know. I think he figured it out for himself, actually.”

“Of course he did.”

There’s another awkward silence, stretching on until Remus thinks he might just have to kill himself. Sirius is the first to break it, thankfully. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, like there’s nothing else to say. Maybe there isn’t. It makes no difference- Remus wants to tear the words from his throat anyway.  

“Not enough.”

“I’ll eat.”

Remus scoffs, turning on his heels. “I hope you choke.”

 

---

 

“I have a surprise.”

Regulus turns at the sound of James' voice, looking up from his cauldron. “What are you doing here? I thought we weren't going to meet today.” 

James raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?” 

Regulus looks back at the potion. It’s a murky burgundy color and he needs to get it to a bright orange by the end of the day. “I needed to add something to the potion. How’d you know I was here?”

“What, you don’t want to see me?” James flashes him that awful grin and moves forward, reaching into his pocket. He carefully pulls out something square and wrapped in his handkerchief, handling it gently. “It’s just bread pudding. I realized I haven’t bought any in a while.”

James smiles softly, glancing over Regulus’s shoulder at the potion. “Is it supposed to be that color?”

Regulus turns to look, groaning when he finds a vat of dark green slop. “No. You distracted me.”

“What’s this for?” 

“It’s to block the muscles from the magical core.”

James let out a breath, shoulders sagging. “Right.”

“It’s temporary, don’t worry. But- I don’t know what else to do, James. If he’s still getting weaker while his muscles are staying the same…” Regulus shakes his head. “Then we aren’t killing the virus, we’re just slowing it down. Redirecting it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” James runs a hand through his curls. Regulus frowns. 

“How soon is Easter break?”

“Two weeks.”

“Alright, then we have two weeks to remake this.” Regulus vanishes the potion with a simple flick of his wand. “How’s… how’s Lupin?”

James’s face twists. “...struggling, I think. I mean, obviously. I’m not sure… I mean, I don’t know how to help him.”

“Have you talked to Sirius?”

“No.”

“You’re still angry, then?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” Regulus watches him carefully. “Are you sleeping?”

At that, James looks up. “Hm? Oh. Right. Yeah. Yeah, I’m sleeping.”

Regulus tsks. “You’re a terrible liar.”

James frowns, indignant. “No, I’m not.”

“To me, you’re shit.”

James waves a hand. “Yes, but that’s you. That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

James circles him in his arms and Regulus shivers, warm. “I could never lie to you.”

Regulus hums. “We’re going to make you some sleep potions. Right now.”

James makes an unintelligible sound and buries his face in Reg’s hair. Regulus smacks him on his chest lightly. “Did you just sniff me, Potter?”

“You smell good.” James hugs him tighter. Regulus bites back a smile. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Regulus lets himself be held for another second. Just the one, he tells himself. That’s all he gets. And all too soon he forces himself to push James back, turning to the table. “Can you get me some lavender?”

James grumbles but does as he’s told. “What if you visit me for Easter?”

Regulus shakes his head. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation, and each succession only succeeds in making him more miserable.

“James.”

“What if I meet you somewhere, and it’s just the two of us?”

“James.”

“I just want to see you.”

“I can’t. You know that. Stop asking.”

James sets a sprig of lavender down in front of Regulus. “I need to make sure they aren’t hurting you. That's all. In a park or something, Reg, just ten minutes. I only need ten minutes.” 

“I’m going to be fine, James. You know it’s too dangerous.”

“Fuck that.” James shakes his head, angry, and Regulus doesn't know how to help. This isn’t something he can compromise on. 

“I’ll find you, alright? I’ll find you on the first day back, as soon as I can. It’s just two weeks. I’ve lived in that house for 16 years.” Regulus pulls the leaves off the stalk of lavender, dropping them in the pot. 

James huffs, but nods. “Fine. And you’re sure no letters-”

“No letters.”

“Ok.” James takes a deep breath, turning his back on the potion. “Ok, no letters.”

Regulus stirs carefully, deciding to change the subject. “How’s it going to go? With Lupin and Sirius for Easter?”

“I don’t know.” James answers honestly. “I haven’t actually seen them interact since… since it happened.”

Regulus bites his lip. “That’ll be interesting, at least.”

James cocks his head. “What are you doing for break, then?” 

“A lot of family dinners, probably.” 

“Sirius told me about those.”

“I imagine they haven’t changed much.”

“Reg?”

The tone in his voice makes Regulus go still. “Yeah?”

“Have you ever met Voldemort?”

It’s such an abrupt transition that Regulus has to scramble to find words. It takes him a minute. “...Yes.”

He can feel James’s eyes on him. He wonders what’s going to happen next, how long it’ll take James to ask what he really wants to know.

“Have you… spoken with him?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Regulus, please.”

Regulus sighs, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yes. The Dark Lord and I have spoken.” He hates this conversation, hates how it makes his chest feel, hates how James is looking at him. 

“Why would you call him that?” James takes a step forward. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you call him the 'Dark Lord?'”

Regulus grabs some glass vials from the bottom shelf of the bench, uncorking them one by one. “James-”

“Voldemort. Just say Voldemort. When you call him that, it sounds like- it sounds like you’re one of them.”

Regulus turns, already drowning. “I am. I am, James. I am one of them. Or have you forgotten who my parents are? Who my family is?”

“Don’t say that, Reg. Really, don’t say that, because I can’t… I can’t handle that right now.” 

Regulus thinks about his forearm, bare but not for much longer. He thinks about his Mother’s fury, sharp and pointed. He thinks about the Dark Lord’s parseltongue. He thinks about the snake waiting patiently below, in the bowels of the castle. 

“I can’t be anyone else, James.” He says softly. “I lost that choice the second Sirius left for yours.”

James’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s not true.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Regulus pours another vial, capping it. The room smells like lavender, curling around their heads in purple clouds. 

“Fine. Fine. Ok.” James runs a hand over his face, helping Regulus cap the last few vials. “Just-”

Regulus takes a shuddering breath, interrupting him. He conjures a sack. “Your father’s potion will be ready by break.”

“Reg-”

Regulus shoves the bag of sleep potions into James’s chest. “Get some sleep.”

When the door closes behind him, Regulus has to fight to keep the waters at bay.

 

---

 

“Can I talk to you?” 

Regulus looks up, startled. He’s in the library, bent over a book on dark curses that he had to get from the restricted section. He’s been alone for the past thirty minutes- so when someone interrupts him it comes as a bit of a surprise. 

He knows who it is before he looks, of course. Still, Sirius’s face always feels like a punch to the gut. His eyes are wide and hopeful, and Regulus has to steel himself against his gaze. “No.”

Sirius takes another step. “Please, Reg.”

“No.” He envisions James’ tear streaked face. 

“Please. It’s… it’s about Remus.”

And, well, Regulus wasn’t expecting that, especially considering recent events. “You get five minutes.”

Sirius looks around, letting out a breath. “Can we go somewhere else?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and stands up, moving past Sirius to wait in the corridor. When he reaches the hallway and turns around, Sirius clears his throat. 

“I know you know. About Remus, I mean.”

Regulus blinks. Oh. Sirius knew too, then. He’d assumed James did, but he wasn’t sure about the others. Did it have something to do with what happened between Lupin and Sirius? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Can we just- can we just talk about this?” Sirius looks nervous, Regulus realizes. Scared. 

“You’re going to have to remind me what it is we’re talking about.”

“Remus’s… problem. I know you know.”

“Oh, you mean him being a werewolf?”

Sirius moves forward instantly, glancing around. “Don’t- don’t say it out loud. Not here.”

“Oh, my mistake. I thought you wanted to talk about it.”

“I do, I just- ugh.” Sirius groans in frustration, tipping his head back. “You can’t tell anyone. Ever.”

Regulus wasn’t going to, but he’s curious now. Wonders how far he can go with this. “Why shouldn’t I?” 

“No one can know.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous. For him.”

“And you care… why?”

Sirius blinks. “Because he’s my frie-” He cuts himself off with a sharp shake of his head.

Regulus smirks. “From what I can tell, that’s not entirely true anymore.”

“How do you…”

“It’s not exactly a secret, is it? You two don’t seem to be getting on these days.” 

Sirius meets his eyes, and all Regulus can find is fire. Fire and shame. “Please, Reg.” He says, and his voice cracks. “Please. No one else can know.”

And suddenly Regulus understands. He gets it now. He tips his head to the side, studying Sirius. “You told someone,” He whispers softly, cruelly. “That's what it was. That’s what happened, isn’t it?” He’s filled with a simmering and burning resentment, cold and dangerous. No wonder James was such a wreck. No wonder Lupin looked so devastatingly terrified when Regulus figured out his secret.

Sirius goes white. Regulus grins, sharp and pointy. “Oh, Sirius, and here I thought Gryfindors were supposed to be loyal.” 

“Shut up.”

Regulus stalks forward. “Who’d you tell, Sirius? Who was worth betraying him for?”

“I said shut up.”

But Regulus’s got him between his teeth now, and wants nothing more than to bite down. “Hm, lets see. This must’ve been after our parents' visit, wasn’t it?” Regulus remembers what James said, face buried in his shoulder. Shaking. 

“They are not my parents.” Sirius’s voice is trembling now, with anger and fear alike. 

Regulus stops short, smirk falling. He glares at him. “You’re so weak, Sirius. Such a coward.” Sirius's shoved that word down his throat his whole life. It feels good to spit it back out.

“You don’t want to talk about being a coward.”

“Yes, I do.” He’s angry for himself, angry for James, hell, he’s angry for bloody Remus Lupin. He takes another step forward. “You did this, all this, just because you couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle being a Black. I live with them. I fucking live with them and then they show up for one day and have one bloody conversation and you what? Self implode? Ruin someone else's life because you can’t handle your own? No wonder Lupin hates you. You're weak, Sirius.” 

Sirius takes a sharp breath. “As if you’ve ever suffered like I have. You’re the perfect son, the Black heir. You’re all they’ve ever wanted. You’re all I couldn’t be. You have no idea-”

“I have every idea.” Regulus hisses. “You got out, Sirius. I’m still there.” Sirius just scoffs and Regulus narrows his eyes, vengeful. “You see it, don’t you? The similarities? You say you aren’t their son but clearly that’s not right. You’re exactly like them. How fucking ironic.” Sirius takes a step back, and Regulus knows he’s found the chink in his carefully crafted armor. “They’d be so proud.”  

Sirius’s lips part, face whitening. “Stop.”

Regulus tips his head, smirking. “You’ve always had her eyes.”  

Something in Sirius’s face snaps, the air around them crackling with magic. Both of them- Regulus and Sirius- are fairly good at controlling themselves, except when it came to each other. Sometimes, back in Grimmauld Place, mirrors and paintings would shatter when they argued. Their shouts sent vases flying off shelves. “It makes no difference, though, does it?” Sirius spits. “I’m at James’s now. You’re alone and missing your shield. No one’s there to rescue you anymore, Reggie. It looks like you’re gonna have to learn to hold your own for fucking once.”

“What?”

“It was never worth it. I see that now. All those hits I took for you. All those curses. I can’t even count all the times I protected you- and it left me with nothing but a traitorous brother and this.” Sirius pulls up his shirt, revealing the dark scar cutting across his side. Regulus refuses to look at it. He’s pictured it in his head so many times there’s no need to see the real thing. Sirius lets his shirt drop. “It’s like I said. I’m done.” 

Regulus can feel his magic thrumming through his veins into his fingertips. He can’t breathe through the water filling his lungs. “Do you really want to compare scars, Sirius?”

He can't think, reaching blindly for his left sleeve, fingers finding the edge of the pressed fabric. He pulls it up past his shoulder, watching with a burning satisfaction as Sirius’s face falls. 

“W-What are those?”

Everything’s out of him now, all fear and sadness and water flushing from his system with each word Sirius says. Only a frigid, cutting rage remains, echoingly hollow within him. “These are my reminders.” Regulus hisses, throwing each word like a knife. He knows how much they'll hurt. Sirius doesn’t take his eyes off Regulus’s shoulder, every inch of his body frozen. “You think you ever fucking protected me, do you? You think she didn’t notice? Honestly, brother, you’re smarter than that.” 

He thinks of years and years in the kitchen, Walburga pulling out her favorite knife as silent tears rolled down little Regulus’s cheeks. “She knew. Every time you’d take a curse or a hit when it was meant for me, she knew.” He soothes his shoulder with his palm, gently massaging the scars on his arm. They ache, sometimes. Still. They’re small yet sharp, raised and white. Little parallel lines, neatly organized and covering his shoulder. Clustered in groups of five. 

“Are those-”

“Tally marks.”

Sirius makes a sound like a wounded dog, raising a shaky hand to cover his mouth. There’s a greenish quality to his face, like he’s about to be sick. “I didn’t- I didn’t know-”

“Of course you didn’t. She would never have allowed that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Reg? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Regulus laughs, bitter and quiet. “How do you think I knew what curse to use on Lupin at the beginning of the year? She taught me everything I know about silencing charms.”

“Why- why would she-” Sirius is trembling now, from head to toe, all of him shaking visibly. Regulus almost feels bad for him. Almost.

“She said since I let myself be protected by a muggle-sympathizer, I deserved a muggle punishment. It was weak, she said. Letting you take the fall. And when I tried to stop you… that was worse.” He shakes his head. “I think it was to punish you as well. You put so much of yourself into making sure I was ok. She thought it was funny, I guess. Every time you tried to help you were only hurting me more.” 

Sirius wraps his arms around himself like he’s afraid he’s going to shatter. Like he’s trying to keep all his pieces together. “So all this time…” 

“You may not be able to count the number of times you protected me, but I can.” Regulus traces his shoulder with his fingers lightly. “I can count every single one.” 

Sirius shakes his head, backing up. “I can’t- I can’t do this. I can’t.” 

Regulus rolls down his sleeve and watches him sadly, all the fight slowly starting to seep out of him. Sirius takes gasping breaths, obviously struggling. “I. Fuck. Reg. I- I can’t-” He’s still backing up, still shaking his head. 

A twinge of regret twists Regulus’s stomach. He ignores it- crossing his arms over his chest. Protecting himself. “Sirius.”

Sirius looks up sharply at his name, pupils dilated. The fear in his eyes is painful, cutting to Regulus's core. Regulus does his best to grapple with his words as they coil and twist around his throat. “I- it-" He takes a deep breath. "You didn’t know.” It's not forgiveness, it's not an alleviation of blame. It's just the truth. 

They stare at each other, a thousand things passing between them. Sirius doesn’t nod, doesn’t acknowledge him in any way, just stares. When he turns to go, his shoulders shake.

Regulus barely makes it to the bathroom before he lets himself break down.

 

Notes:

Sorry :(
.
Sirius is not having a fun time lemme tell you
I tried to throw y'all off with a bit of fluff with jegulus there in the middle but that also quickly turned to angst idk I don't control my writing my writing controls me

Chapter 27: Pretty

Notes:

I hate hate hate this chapter but oh well have fun

James can’t feel his fingers. Can’t feel any of himself, really, fully numb. He holds the bag of potions to his chest and tries to focus on their weight in his hands. His meeting (fight?) with Regulus had done nothing but put him in a bad mood and left him more tired than he’d started. 

Slowly he makes his way to the door of the Come and Go room, longing for sleep. The scent of lavender wafting up from the sack in his hands does nothing for the heaviness dragging his eyelids down. He blinks harshly and shakes his head a bit, trying to wake up. 

When he gets back to the Common Room he slides the bag of potions into his bedside drawer, tucking them under his Muggle Studies book. He longs to find Regulus, apologize for pushing so hard. Draw him to his chest, kiss his neck. Make it ok. 

But it’s not ok, James thinks as he sinks down onto his bed. It’s not ok at all, because for two weeks James will be home and Reg will be back at that house. And Regulus- Regulus won’t let him help. Which is ridiculous, honestly, because that’s what James does best. Regulus and Sirius share at least that much in common, James realizes. They’re both unwaveringly stubborn. 

But Godric, he’s just so lovely. James envisions Regulus’s perfectly sad gray eyes, long dark lashes dancing on porcelain cheeks that color easily when flustered. He remembers how Regulus had known instantly when James needed him. Known the second he stepped foot in the dining hall. The feel of his hands in his hair, his breath on James’s neck. His willingness to quietly put down whatever he’s working on and direct all his attention to helping James, no matter the situation. 

James groans and turns to smother his face in his pillows, absolutely miserable. The smell of Regulus’s fresh potions wafts up from the drawer, cradling him, and for a minute James can pretend he’s here. He’d be next to him, maybe with his head on James’s shoulder, arms around his middle. The thought of proper, posh Regulus in his bed sends a shiver up James’s spine and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop that train of thoughts before it gets going. 

He curls in on himself, deciding to just find Regulus tomorrow morning. He’ll apologize, smooth everything over. Go back to trying to save him in secret. 

He doesn’t need a potion this time, the smell of them enough to make his thoughts fuzzy and thick, pulling his head into his pillow. He feels his eyes drift shut, only fluttering slightly against the comfort of his blanket. He tells himself he’ll get up for dinner and gently falls into a warm, lavendery sleep. 

He dreams of desperate mouths, flashes of pale skin, and the color green.  

He has no idea how long it’s been when the door bangs open, startling him awake. James half rises onto his elbows, blinking rapidly. Sleep still clings to him like a fog, begging him to give back in. He rubs an eye and tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. 

Sirius stands in the doorway, face white and panicked, staring at him. There are tears in his eyes, clinging to his lashes. One hand remains frozen on the doorknob, the other clutching his chest. It’s the worst James has seen him in a long time. 

Before James can do something, like get out of bed or stop dreaming about Sirius’s brother naked, Sirius turns and flees down the stairs. James sits up fully, throwing his covers off and going to the door. He gets there just in time to watch Sirius disappear out the portrait hole, painting swinging shut behind him. 

James should go back to bed. That's the right thing to do in this situation. Go back to sleep. But- Sirius isn’t thinking clearly. That much is obvious. And last time Sirius wasn’t thinking clearly… 

Well.

James goes to Remus’s drawer, rifling through it and pulling out the map. He taps it, muttering the words softly and letting it unfold and expand. He finds Sirius’s name quickly, watching as it moves fast down the hall, turning corners as it goes. James hastily slips the map into his back pocket and leaves the dorm quietly, stepping through the portrait hole and following after Sirius. He doesn’t have a plan, not really. He’s just- going for it. 

He finds him, unsurprisingly, in the Astronomy Tower. It’s James’s turn to pause at the doorway, silently watching as Sirius breaks down. He’s curled on a bench, head between his knees. James can’t tell if the tremors racking his shoulders are from crying or if he’s just… shaking. 

James enters quietly, taking the bench on the other side of the tower. The cold of the stone seeps through his robes slowly, like a growing dampness. He stares out into the sky, listening to the sound of Sirius’s frantic breaths. The night’s deep and black, stars peeking out from behind low hanging clouds. The astronomy tower’s high enough that they’re above the fog, and James watches as it unfurls across the great lake in heaping gray billows. 

The weighty silence lingering between him and Sirius only seems to draw the war closer, transforming it from an abstract concept hidden behind castle walls into a palpable, all too painful reality. James bites his lip. If this can be broken, if he and Sirius’s everlasting bond can be snapped, what’s to say Dumbledore’s protective curses can’t as well? Yet here James remains, clinging to Sirius’s silent presence and whatever bare solace he can find in the night sky. 

“I’ve started seeing someone.” He doesn’t look at Sirius when he says it, just keeps staring out into the darkness. Across the tower he can hear Sirius’s breath catch with a start, like he didn’t know James was there. When it falls back into a pattern, it’s a bit more regular. 

James doesn’t say anything else, letting his head hit the wall behind him, drawing his feet up on the bench and tucking his knees to his chest. In his periphery James sees Sirius slowly raise his head, looking out the window. Neither of them speak. James focuses on Sirius’s sniffs and gasps, letting the sound comfort him slightly. He’s used to holding Sirius against him, whispering comforting nothings and rubbing his back. Waiting until the shaking stops, waiting until his cheeks dry. He knows how to help Sirius. He’s good at helping Sirius.

But this is different.

This is new. 

He can’t hug him, can’t even talk to him. James swallows down a lump in his throat, choking on the wave of missing that nearly overwhelms him. In the quiet of the Astronomy Tower, surrounded by shadows and starlight, he grapples with the helplessness of not being able to mend what he worries is permanently broken.

But somewhere, distantly, he realizes Sirius’s breathing has regulated slightly; slowing down to deep inhales instead of sharp gasps. 

Maybe that’s all James can do for now. 

Maybe that’s enough. 

James wonders if things will ever go back to the way they were. He wonders why Sirius did what he did. He wonders what he’s thinking about right now. He wonders why he was crying. 

He says nothing. 

Somewhere far off, the wind whistles in the bows of the willow. 

 

---

 

Tally marks.

His baby brother, arm covered in thin scars that, albeit unknowingly, Sirius put there himself. 

I hope you choke. 

Remus, sneering at him in an empty hallway. Covered in blood on the floor of the shack. 

Get. Out. 

Curled up on a bench in the astronomy tower, Sirius can’t breathe. His lungs are shrinking into themselves, shriveling and withering inside his chest. The only air that does manage to get through is poisonous, laden and noxious with overwhelming and all encompassing guilt. 

“I’ve started seeing someone.” 

James. 

Prongs. 

His best friend. 

And suddenly, just like that, the pain in Sirius' chest cracks, just a bit. Just enough. 

Tears finally, finally, spill over his cheeks, hands fumbling to grip his knees.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 

---

 

“Look.” Remus leans over them, spreading out a paper on the table. Peter grumbles something about his toast and moves his plate to the side. James peers over. 

School of Magic; Beauxbatons; Has Been Attacked. Some Injured, None Dead. 

James sucks in a breath, narrowing his eyes. “Voldemort?”

“Who else.” Remus folds up the article, stuffing it back in his bag. “None of the injuries were serious, and no one died. I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.”

“I’m shocked we didn’t go into a lockdown.” Peter says, dragging his toast back in front of him. “What with how trigger happy Dumbledore seems to be with those.” 

“Mm.” Remus sighs. “I guess those are for emergencies directly pertaining to us.” 

“Why’s he going after schools, though?” James asks around a bite of sausage. Remus wrinkles his nose at him.

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t know how you grew up so posh and still have the table manners of a pig.” He shakes his head. “Not schools, school. Just the one. He hasn’t attacked Durmstang or us yet, remember.”

“Why?”

Peter answers before Remus gets the chance to. “Durmstrang he has too many supporters. They’re a powerful school. And here…” He sends a glance towards the Slytherin table. “I mean, most death eaters come out of that house right there.” He points with his chin. “I imagine he wouldn’t want to go after the thing that churns out most of his followers. You don’t want to cut off your supply at the source.” He chuckles bitterly and reaches for the jam. 

James frowns. “So Beauxbatons just gets the full force of it? But still, why children? What did they do to him?” 

“Nothing.” Remus rubs at his forehead. “They didn’t need to do anything. I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to send a message. Maybe he’s trying to prove that this is an international war, not just centered in Britain. Maybe he wants to show how it’s affecting everyone- even the French.”

“Somethings going to happen.” James says, eyeing the Slytherin table. “I can feel it. I don’t know if we’re as safe as we think we are.”

Remus scoffs. “Of course we aren’t. If he’s going after Beauxbatons, we’re next on his list. It’s only a matter of time.”

“A ticking time bomb.” Pete mutters softly. 

James nods. “Maybe Dumbledore has the right idea. With the lockdowns, I mean.”

“I don’t know what good being locked in a room is gonna do when death eaters are shooting unforgivables at me.” 

“Ideally the death eaters wouldn’t be able to get to you. You know, because of the locked in a room thing.”

“I don’t know,” Remus says after a moment. “I’d rather fight.”

“I wouldn’t,” Peter chimes in. “I changed my mind. I’ll take being locked in a room anyday.” 

“How are you a Gryfindor?”

Peter cocks his head. “...Genetics?”

“Merlin.” James shakes his head, grinning. “You sure the sorting hat didn’t make a mistake?”

Peter kicks him hard under the table and James yelps. “Oi!” 

Remus rolls his eyes and Pete leans forward. “What’d do you think would happen if Hogwarts did get attacked?” he asks conspiratorially. 

Remus taps the folded up newspaper in his bag. “Beauxbatons just got shut down for the semester. All the kids are going home. It only took them getting attacked twice.”

James smirks. “Dumbledore would probably just impose a school wide lockdown. All the outside doors would shut and none of us would be allowed to leave.” 

“Oh, god. I don’t know what’s worse, being forced to go home or being forced to stay here.” Peter huffs. 

“Oh, definitely staying here.” James scoffs and looks around. "They’d probably just give us more homework to pass the time.”

Remus crosses his arms. “You act like homework is the worst thing that can happen to a person.”

“That, dear Moony, is because it is.”

“If you fail all your exams this year I’m going to laugh, and I am not going to be the least bit sorry.”

James feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Aw, you know I'm too smart for that. I'll charm my way through, Moony, just you wait and see."

“You couldn’t charm a pumpkin.”

“I’ve charmed much more than a pumpkin, I'll have you know.”

Remus pauses then, tilting his head just slightly and raising one brow. James feels his stomach sink. Shit. Did he say something? He must’ve, because Remus is looking at him like he’s latched on to an idea and now he’s talking and-

“Oh? Like who?”

“What?”

“Who’ve you charmed, then?”

Peter wipes his mouth with a napkin. “James is charming people? But I thought you were over Lily.”

“I am!”

“So it’s someone new, then?”

“What? Yes. -No. I- I didn’t mean-”

But Remus just smirks at him, and James promptly gives up, hanging his head and letting out a huff of air. “You aren’t going to let this go.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I ask nicely?”

Peter smirked. “Not a chance. Your charms won’t work on me as well as they do on this mystery girl.”

Girl?

Who-

Oh.

James can feel his confusion flicker across his face before he catches it and carefully tucks it away. Apparently too late, though, because once again Remus seems to take notice. He purses his lips and studies James in a way that makes him feel entirely too translucent. James tears his gaze away, directing his attention to the ceiling instead. It’s another cloudy day. 

“But who-”

James hears a thump as Remus shoves Peter under the table, shutting him up. “Oh, he’ll tell us, Wormtail. At the next party when he’s drunk and sappy.”

James sends out a silent thank you to Remus Lupin. “We’ll see. Not that there’s anything to tell.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Oh- oh shit. James, didn’t you have Quidditch practice like, 5 minutes ago?”

“Fuck!” James jumps to his feet, knocking over his cup. “Shit. Merlin, and we’re sharing the pitch with Slytherin today. Fuck. Ok. Bye.”

He scampers down the grounds and onto the pitch, ducking into the changing rooms just in time. 

“Where have you been, Potter?” Frank slaps him on the shoulder as he passes, throwing his robes onto a bench. “Get changed and meet us out there. We’re going to get started on warm ups.” He turns to address the team at large. “Play nice with the snakes today, guys. I can’t have any more meetings with McGonagall and Slughorn.”

James hurries into his quidditch kit and joins the others out on the field. The Slytherin’s are starting to file in from their changing rooms, rounding into a circle. Frank pulls James’s arm. “We’re doing laps. Go.”

James gets on his broom and takes off, letting out a sigh of relief. He’s in the air, and right now that’s all that really matters. Tipping his head back he feels the wind flow through his curls, brushing lightly past his cheeks. For a second, his mind goes totally blank. 

And then he snaps back in, because Frank’s yelling something and he’s about to collide with a Slytherin player. James yanks his broom up and sails over the Slytherin’s head, ducking down to yell an apology. 

He spends most of practice distracted, admittedly. The first half he’s looking for Regulus and the second he’s just enjoying his time on his broom- finally mulling over everything that’s happened these past few days. 

He locates Regulus fairly quickly, but then again, he always does. He’s flying low to the ground, finding and catching the snitch over and over again. He’s brutal and relentless, trained to perfection. He flies like an arrow, James realizes, straight and sharp. Their eyes meet, once, and James swears Regulus’s iris’s match the grey of the sky above them perfectly. 

James can’t stop staring. 

And then his mind drifts as it tends to do, slipping to Sirius and Remus and his father. He hasn’t talked to Sirius since that night in the astronomy tower, and has no intention of starting any time soon. But he’s going home in a week, and Sirius is coming with him. Not to mention, Remus will be joining them for the second half of break, because he always does and Effie insisted this year be no different. 

James does another lap.

The potion will need to be done by break if James wants to get it home to his father. He’s written him already, warning him about the potential effects. Monty seemed a little dubious, naturally, but with another exchange of letters he came around. James asked him not to talk to the doctors quite yet, and again, he’d agreed.

They practice shooting goals next. 

He worries about his slip up at breakfast with Remus and Peter as he hits the ball through the hoop. Surely there isn’t any reason for concern, right? They don’t know. James tries to ignore the fact that in the course of only a few days somehow all the Marauders found out he was in a relationship. Oh well. It wasn’t going to stay a secret forever. As long as they never found out who he was seeing, everything would be fine. 

Right?

“Potter! Get your ass down, practice’s over.” Someone’s waving him down. James shakes his head, thoughts still cloudy. He gets like this sometimes, distracted and out of it. He sets down and starts walking across the pitch. 

Would Regulus care? That Sirius, Remus and Peter all knew? Of course he would. Obviously he’d care. Maybe he won’t mention it for a few days, lower the risks of his friends getting hunted down and skinned alive.  

“Oi, Potter!” 

James snaps his head up, alarmed. Then he blinks. 

Fuck.

This isn’t his changing room. 

“Wrong room, idiot.” Mulciber crosses his arms over his bare chest, smirking. “Unless you’re here on purpose, and just really want to see some Slytherin cock. Come to see if the rumors are true?”

“Fuck off, Mulciber.” James turns to go, but something catches his eye right as he’s about to leave. Regulus, stepping out of a shower, towel around his waist.

Shit. Now James really can’t go, because Regulus is shirtless and dripping wet and staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Um- I’ll- um, yeah.” James swallows harshly, trying to tear his gaze away from Regulus’s bare chest.

“Y-y-you’ll g-g-go?” Mulciber mocks, resulting in surrounding jeers. 

James settles for flipping him the bird and turning on his heels, electing to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

When he finds the right room (he triple checks) he goes in and sheds his kit. 

“Where’d you go James?” Frank knocks into him lightly.

James turns pink. “I- ah- went into the wrong changing room.”

“Merlin. You went into Slytherin’s? On purpose?”

“Not on purpose!”

Immediately Frank and the others burst out laughing and James flushes. “I swear! It was an accident!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure it was. That’s why you’re bright red right now. How much did you see?” He makes a face. “Gah, I pity your eyes.”

Even turned to his locker, James can see Sirius’s shoulders shake as he chuckles along with the others. For once, he doesn’t find himself angry- just bittersweet. 

James plasters on a fake frown and lets the others push him around some more, settling down onto the bench. 

It’s not an awful practice, all things considered. 

 

---

 

What’s worrying you? The Basilisk asks, once again resting with her head through the doorway of Slytherin’s room. 

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Regulus stays curled up on Slytherin’s bed, reading one of his old books on potions. 

You’re scared.

I’m not.

I can smell when you’re lying, Little Prince.

Regulus closes the book, leveling the Basilisk with a cold stare she cannot see. I’m going home soon. For break. 

And that's why you’re scared?

…Yes.

Liar. 

Regulus crosses his arms. What?  

You’re worried about going home, yes, but you aren’t… scared. Not about that.

And that was true enough, Regulus supposes. He is worried about going home, but that’s a fairly common occurrence. He’s scared of what he’ll have to do when he gets back. 

Why does it matter to you?

The Basilisk hisses softly, like she’s thinking. I enjoy the taste of fear, normally. But you aren’t afraid of me this time- you’re afraid of yourself. And that tastes… less good. 

Regulus rolls his eyes. Gee. I’m sorry my fear tastes bad. I’ll try and do better next time.

My boy was afraid of himself too. But he liked it, that fear. He liked what it meant.  

Regulus shifts, curious. What did it mean?

The Basilisk tilts her head slightly. For him? Power.  

And for you?

The Basilisk lets her head fall back against the ground with a hiss, not answering. Regulus sighs. 

What happened? When he… when he left?

The Basilisk twists, showing Regulus her cheek. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to. The thick scar along her face tells Regulus all he needs to know. 

And then he, what, vanished? 

The Basilisk flicks her tongue. I killed that girl, that mudblood, and he wasn’t happy. He left me with this. A goodbye present, I suppose. He left me bleeding and never… never came back. 

Regulus’s stomach sinks. Oh, shit . He whispers. I’m… I’m sorry. It’s a genuine sentiment, surprisingly. That’s awful.  

He wanted more. I should’ve done more, to please him. 

Regulus swallows, throat tight. I don’t know if you could’ve done anything more.

I could’ve tried.

Regulus shakes his head, choking on his words. The Basilisk can’t see him, but Regulus knows she doesn’t need to. She understands. 

Don’t worry about me, Little Prince. This is all I’ve known.

Regulus lets his head rest back against the pillow. And your master?

He left too. Though I imagine he had to. He said goodbye, at least. 

How… How long have you been alone?

The Basilisk lets out a soft hiss. Long enough. 

Regulus takes a deep breath, trying to sort out his emotions. I’m going to be gone for two weeks. 

You’re going to go home. She says. 

Yes.

And then you’re going to come back.

Yes. 

Then don’t be worried, Little Prince. There’s no use. 

Regulus just squeezes his eyes shut, saying nothing. 

 

---

 

“Are you gonna come over for break with Remus?” 

Peter shakes his head. “Nope. My mother wants me home.” 

They pause outside Peter’s classroom. “Ugh. Tough luck, mate. You’ll write, though?”

“Course. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“Have fun in Charms.” James walks away, letting Peter get to class. He has a free period and intends to spend it finally studying for his exams. He doesn't get the chance, though, because before he knows it he’s getting ripped out of thin air and thrown into a broom closet.
His first thought is “another lockdown? Really?” but then he turns to find Remus waiting behind him with crossed arms.

James snorts. “Really, Moony? Ambushing me in the middle of the hallway?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“And you couldn’t have done that in the common room?”

Remus sighs. “Too many people. Look, Prongs-”

James shakes his head, letting out a breath. “I know what this is about, Moony. Can you please, please, just leave it?”

Remus raises a brow. “It’s a boy.”

James’s thoughts stutter to a stop. “What?”

“That’s why you won’t tell us. That’s why you didn’t tell us. You’re seeing a boy. I saw it, in your face.”

“I-”

“James.” Remus gives him a look, piercing and direct, and for the first time James feels a spike of fear run up his spine. He takes a panicked breath.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please. I can’t- I can’t take everyone knowing.”

“James, James, it’s ok.” Remus suddenly looks slightly concerned, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Hey. Hey. I won’t tell, alright? I promise.”

“Thank you. Th- thanks.” James shakes his head, trying to calm himself down. It wouldn’t matter to Remus, right? He wouldn’t say anything? James sees the way he looks at Sirius. He understands, doesn’t he?

“Hey, James?” Remus squeezes his arm lightly. “I don’t care. You know that right? I don’t care that it’s a boy. It’s fine. It doesn’t- it doesn’t change anything. I swear.”

James stares at him, swallowing. “I-” He starts. “I can’t tell you who it is.”

Remus nods, pressing his lips together. “Alright. Can you tell me how long this has been going on?”

“Um- maybe a month? A month and a half? I’m not sure.” 

Remus pauses, frowning. “A month? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- you’ve been sneaking off all year, James. Not just for a month. I thought that was where you were going, and it made so much sense, but now…”

“He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Remus gives him an odd look at the abrupt change in topic, but drops it. “I won’t tell.”

“Not Peter, or Sirius.”

Something indiscernible flickers across Remus’s face. “I won’t tell Sirius. You know that.”

“I sort of wish I didn’t. Know that, I mean.”

Remus shakes his head, looking past James. “Back in the Great Hall, why didn’t you tell Peter that it’s a boy?”

“I- um.” He doesn’t know how to answer that. Why didn’t he? It’s not like Peter would care. He’s not like that. But still, there’s that persistent and driving fear that hums beneath even the thought of saying it out loud. Of telling someone other than himself.

James is convinced he feels emotions… differently than others. More. They fill up every part of him, angry or burning or cold or fierce. Irrepressible. And what he feels for Regulus- well. He’s bursting at the seams with it. Every cell in his body longs to show Regulus off and kiss him in front of the entire student body. But of course he’ll stay quiet. Of course he’ll keep Regulus hidden, tucked to his chest. Of course. If it meant he gets to keep holding him, he’d never speak again. 

But James has always been in love with Lily. That’s all he knew and that’s all anyone knew of him. He was James Potter, the straight Chaser devoted entirely to one girl. And now… he’s not. He just doesn't know how to tell them, doesn’t know how to shift their perception of him without shifting the relationship itself. So he’s scared. Not of his feelings, per se, but of other people’s. 

“I’m not sure.” He says finally. “I don’t know how I feel. I mean. I care about him so much and he’s so pretty and- er. Well. I’m definitely not straight. I just don’t know what I am.”

Remus tilts his head, studying him. “You don’t need to worry about it, not right now.” He takes a deep breath, as if he’s stealing himself for something important. “I’m- I’m gay, I think. No. I know I am. I’m gay. But I’ve always known that. I didn’t need to figure it out. So I don’t know how to help you, really. But what I do know is that the people you’ve surrounded yourself with are good. And they will support you. Don’t worry- I still won’t tell. Promise. I know what it’s like to want to keep that particular secret.” 

James smiles softly, reaching out to ruffle Remus’s hair. “Thanks, mate. For… telling me.”

“Ugh!” Remus scowls and ducks out from under James’s hand. “I don’t know how you found someone willing to put up with you.”

“Me neither.” James sighs, happy. 

Remus rolls his eyes. “Does this mean you’re going to be all sappy and lovesick now? Because I really was starting to get used to the new and improved James.” 

“Hardly. You liked me well enough when you didn’t know I was in a relationship.”

“Yeah, but now I’m gonna notice all the gross little things you do.” 

“Piss off.” James reaches out to ruffle his hair again, ducking out of the closet before Remus can get him back. 

“Prongs.” Remus catches his arm once he follows him out, forcing him to pause. “Which house?”

James bites his cheek. “...Slytherin.”

Remus sighs defeatedly, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah, I expected that. Alright. James?”

James looks up. “Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“Course, Moony.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Remus levels him with a sharp look before turning on his heels and marching off, running a hand through his hair as he goes. 

James huffs and then turns back to the hallway.

When he finds his way to the common room, he finds Sirius curled up on the couch, book nestled in his lap. James pauses, instinctually. Sirius looks up, and his face falls. He shuts the book. 

James clears his throat and starts to pass, but a small voice stops him. 

“Thank you.”

James pauses. “What?”

“For the other night. In- um. In the tower.” Sirius doesn’t look at him. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You stayed.” 

“Oh.” James swallows. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know where the line is, how much he can say. How much he can ask. “Why were you up there? What happened?”

Sirius shakes his head, looking down at his book. “I hurt someone. Again.” He chuckles, but it lacks humor. 

Again. 

James snorts, bitter. “You’re good at that.”

Sirius flinches, but his voice stays steady. “I know. I just never thought it’d be him.” 

“Remus?”

“Regulus.”

And James knows when he makes his mistake. Knows it the second he steps forwards, straightening. Sirius clocks the movement instantly, narrowing his eyes. 

“What- what did you do?” James says, working to control his temper. 

Sirius just shakes his head again, staring at him. “Why do you care?”

Shit.

“I don’t. I don’t.” James has always been a good liar. “Just trying to make sure you didn’t tell him about Remus too.”

The jab hits and Sirius ducks his head, breaking eye contact. “Don’t worry. He already knows.” 

James stops in his tracks, blood running cold. “What?”

“Figured it out, the git. Too smart for his own good.” Sirius lets out a shaky breath, closing his book.”

Well. Regulus and James were going to have to have a conversation. “Is he- did he tell anyone?”

“No. I...” Sirius cuts himself off, making a small sound in the back of his throat. It’s pitiful, almost. 

James nods, distant. “Remus is coming over for the break, like normal.”

Sirius goes stiff. He says nothing.

Just keeps his gaze level. “I don’t know if he’s going to want to talk. If he doesn’t, leave him alone. If he does, you better fucking beg for his forgiveness. Merlin knows you don’t deserve it.” 

“Is Snape… is he going to tell anyone?”

James rolls his eyes. “No. Dumbledore talked to him.”

“Thank god for Dumbledore.”

James scoffs. “Yeah. Yeah, thank god for Dumbledore. You wanna know what would’ve happened if Snape had chosen to run his mouth? Remus would be sent home. No other school would’ve taken a werewolf that attempted to attack a student, so that’d be it for him. Him and his Mother and Father in that house, with no one to sit with him through full moons.”

Sirius’s fingers tighten around his book. “James, I’m sorry-”

“Yeah. Save it. Save it for when you’re on your fucking knees at Remus’s feet. That’s when you apologize. Not now. Not to me.”

Sirius nods, averting his gaze. “Ok.”

James turns and walks past him, gripping the staircase railing so hard his knuckles go white.

---

 

“Reg.” 

“Hm?”

“Do you know… about Remus?”

Regulus looks up from the couch. “What?”

James stirs the potion in the cauldron, eyes fixed on the other boy's face as he reads his book. “Do you know about Remus?” He repeats. 

“Yes.” Regulus closes his book, reserved and careful. “He doesn’t do a great job of hiding that particular secret.”

James frowns. “How’d you find out?”

“A multitude of reasons. But the one that did it was when he burned himself touching silver.” Regulus shrugs. “How’d you figure out I know? Lupin tell you, I assume?”

“Um.” James clears his throat. “Sirius, actually.”

Regulus goes still and James can’t read the expression on his face. “You talked?”

“Briefly.”

“What… what did he say?”

“The usual. He’s tired of hurting people, on and on. I don’t know. Something about you. And then he mentioned you know. About Remus.”

Cautiously, Regulus nods, face blank. “I figured out what Sirius did, too.”

James sighs. “You can’t tell anyone Reg. I mean it.”

Regulus doesn’t look at him. “Yeah. Sirius said all that already.”

“Wait, what?”

“He found me in the library. Dragged me into the hall and told me not to tell anyone. I think he was trying to threaten me.” 

“He was sticking up for Remus?”

“You could say that. He seemed very concerned.”

“Huh.” James mulls that over for a minute before he gets another idea. “Did I…did I tip you off in some way? Did I let it slip, about Remus?”

Regulus shakes his head which sends a thrum of relief through James. “No. Not really.”

“Oh. Good.”

“You were rather obvious, though. When I asked the right questions.”

“I am not obvious!”

“Tell that to your face when you walked into the wrong changing room.” Regulus snorts. 

James flushes hard at the memory. “You didn’t have a shirt on.”

“Neither did Mulciber.”

“Yeah, but that’s Mulciber. Who’d wanna see him shirtless?”

“Oh, so now you want to see me shirtless?” 

James just shakes his head, putting down the spoon and quickly crossing the room, pausing just in front of Regulus. He tips his chin up and relishes in the way Regulus’s lips part slightly. There’s a moment of silence before James leans down and kisses him gently, at first. Just a soft brush of the lips. But soon Regulus is grabbing the back of his neck and his waist and pulling him down onto the couch, crushing their lips together frantically.

James makes a small sound and moves himself closer, practically climbing on top of him. Regulus opens his mouth against his, and James runs his tongue along his bottom lip before slipping it inside.

This is right, he thinks, somewhere past the heat and the fire. This is perfect. This is all I need. 

Regulus slides his hands up under James’s shirt and shivers when his fingers skim over firm muscle. “Fuck,” he hisses softly.

“Like what you feel, love?” James smirks, running a hand through Regulus’s hair.

“Shut up.” But his cheeks are burning and he’s immediately pulling James back in. 

James gently tugs on Regulus’s shirt, asking silent permission. Regulus nods and James lifts it off, sliding his hands over pale skin. “Wanted to do that since I saw you in the locker room,” he whispers into Regulus’s cheek. “Been thinking about you.” His hands come to rest against Regulus’s ribs on his sides. “Pretty,” He murmurs, shifting into a more comfortable position. How the fuck’s he supposed to go without this for two weeks?

Regulus lets out a breathy gasp and tilts his head back. James jumps on the opportunity, laying open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin of his neck. It feels good, really good, and now his chest is heaving and his trousers are too tight. Regulus twists to kiss him again, pulling him in by the back of his head. He lifts James’s shirt up frantically and James quickly helps him pull it off. Regulus leans down and places a kiss on his collarbone. Soft, gentle. Then he sinks his teeth in, lightly. Just enough. James can’t help the strangled groan he lets out, because oh. He likes that.

He lets Regulus sooth the bite with gentle kisses before bringing his lips back up to meet his. He skims his hands up Regulus’s side, over his arms, and- 

Pauses. 

Pulls back slightly, hands on Regulus’s shoulders. 

“What-”

Regulus yanks back and James furrows his brows. “What’s on your shoulder?”

Regulus’s face closes off, blank again. James is almost hurt, but his hair is still mussed and his lips are still red. “Nothing.”

“Regulus. I felt it. It’s a scar, or something. Are you- are you using glamor? To hide it?”

Regulus pulls on his shirt, detangling himself from James and crossing to the potion on the table. James immediately mourns the loss. “I… can’t. I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, love.” James is endlessly curious, endlessly worried, but Regulus has turned away from him and he can’t see his face like this. “I just thought you weren't using glamour around me.” The thought that Regulus could be hurt and hiding it scares him more than anything. He just needs to make sure. 

“James. I’m sorry. I am, really. I-” Regulus takes a steadying breath, turning to face him. “I need more time on this one, ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. You’d tell me, though, right? If you needed help?”

Something flickers across Regulus’ face; something James doesn’t like. “Yeah. I’d tell you.”

“Mm. Good.” James gets up and stands next to him, peering into the cauldron, deciding to let it go. “It’s boiling. And bright orange.”

“Shit.” Regulus quickly extinguishes the flame. “It’s done.” He grabs some vials, filing them quickly. 

James shifts. “I’m going to put my shirt on.”

“Absolutely not.”

James huffs, crossing his arms. “You have your shirt on.”

“And?”

“And, it’s not fair.”

“Too bad.”

James just grins and returns to the couch, settling down. “You ready to go home tomorrow?”

Regulus stills at the bench. “Are you?”

“Yeah. It’ll be weird, with Sirius. But I miss my dad.” 

“It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Make sure he drinks these. All of them.” Regulus hands him the bag of potions. James nods and smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll miss you.”

Regulus’s expression softens, just a bit. “...I’ll miss you too.”

And he wants to bring it up, wants to ask him to come home with him, but he can’t. Not now. Not when everything’s going so well. Not after what happened last time. 

“Go get packed.” Regulus says, gently tugging him to his feet. 

James slips on his shirt, frowning. “Could we make out a bit more first?”

“Oh, no. Got to leave you wondering, don’t I?” Regulus grabs his bag and makes his way to the door. “Have a good break, James. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Bye, love.” And then, because he can’t help himself: “Write if you need to.”

Regulus just pauses in the doorway, staring at him. Slowly, he nods, then disappears out into the hall. 

The door shuts behind him, and James is left standing there with a pit in his stomach that’s starting to fill with a terrible sense of dread. 

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

Notes:

gah writing is awful
but I have fun and love this fic and love you guys so here we are

Chapter 28: Ligilimens

Notes:

Man I struggled with this one

so i'm actively moving house rn so the next update might take a hot sec- I'll try not to keep you guys waiting too long but I genuinely have no idea when i'll have time to write. Sorry! (also why the writing on this ones a bit rough I didn't have time to properly edit it)

EDIT:
Ouch forgot a TW:
-um childabuse? Idk that feels all encompassing
- brief animal abuse (it’s a rat)

“Come on, Reggie. You’re with me today.” A cold hand grips his arm and tugs him up from his seat at the table. 

Regulus sends his cousin a look. “Where?”

“Here and there. Around. You’ll figure it out. Let’s go.” Bellatrix loops her arm through his and Regulus goes stiff.

“Just us?”

“You don’t want any special bonding time with your favorite cousin?” Bellatrix fake pouts. “But no, we're bringing Rabby.” 

As if on cue Rabastan steps out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll meet you there, Bella.” He says, looking Regulus up and down. The slow drag of his gaze sends goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “I need to have a talk with Walburga. You two go on ahead.”

“Ugh. Fine. Reggie, come on.” 

They step out on the stoop of Grimmauld place and Regulus blinks against the harsh sunlight. 

Bellatrix grips his arm tighter and Regulus winces, bracing himself for what's about to come. “Hold on to your breakfast!” She cackles as she turns on her heel and the world begins to spin. 

Regulus stumbles a bit when they land, fighting off a wave of dizzing nausea. Groaning, he looks around. Bellatrix laughs, wild hair bouncing around her face. “Don’t recognize it?”

Regulus nods reluctantly. He knows where they are, alright. He just doesn’t want to be here. 

He’d visited Knockturn Alley countless times as a kid, but it’s been a few years since he’s been back. It still smells the same, he realizes. Like rat piss and fermented liquor. 

“We’re going to Borgin’s.” Bellatrix crosses to the alley wall and leans up against it, the trail of her dress resting in a slightly brown puddle.  

Regulus wrinkles his nose. “Why?”

“Dark Lord needed some errands done.” Bellatrix clicks her tongue. “But we have to wait for Rabby. Can’t go in alone.”

“Why not?”

She shrugs. “He knows what we need.” A rat scurries across the cobblestone in front of them and before he can blink, Bellatrix has out her wand.

“Cruicio!”

The rat shrieks, falling to the ground and twitching with agony. Regulus’s stomach twists. He forces himself to stay relaxed, looking up at Bellatrix with a bored drawl. “In broad daylight? Anyone could see.”

She turns to him with a wild glint in her eye. The rat continues to scream. “I’ll hex them too, then.” She waves her wand and the rat goes still. “Your turn.”

Regulus just shakes his head, calm. “Not now.”

“Yes. Now. Imperio.” 

Regulus braces himself but it’s the rat that seems to twitch before standing, unnaturally immobile. Bellatrix flicks her wand and the rat walks towards Regulus with an odd sort of forced gait. Regulus rolls his eyes. “Do we have time for this?”

“We have all the time in the world, Reggie.” 

The rat crawls up Regulus’s shoe and Regulus kicks it away, trying to bite back the childish sting of fear. He hates rats. 

“Your choice.” Bellatrix says, tipping her head to the side. “You’ve got three options. Need any of them demonstrated?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Regulus keeps his arms crossed. 

“Reg-gie,” Bellatrix sing-songs. “You don’t want me telling Mummy you had trouble with a little rat, do you? What’ll she think?”

“Crucio.”

The rat once again screams and drops to the ground, rolling in front of Regulus's feet. He watches it with a blank expression, lips pressed tight. Bellatrix claps her hands with delight.

“There you go! Little Reggie, all grown up.” She laughs and kicks the shrieking rat. “Much better.” 

Regulus just rolls his eyes. “Happy?”

“Delighted. Finish it.”

"No."

"Boring!" She flicks her want. “Avada Kedavra.” The flash of green reflects off the bricks of the walls, glinting on Bellatrix’s sharp teeth as she grins. The rat stops squeaking, prone and limp on the floor.

Regulus sighs, ignoring the clench of his gut. “When’s Rabastan getting here?” 

“Soon.”

As if on cue the air twists in front of them and Rabastan appears, taking a single steadying step. “Good. You waited.”

“Oh yes.” Bellatrix smiles. “We were practicing.”

Rabastan eyes flick to the rat on the floor and he sighs. “Fine. Are you ready?” 

“Won’t you tell us what we’re here for, Rabby? What are we buying?”

“Not buying anything.” Rabastan crosses his arms and Regulus feels his brows pinch in confusion. 

“Why are we here, then?”

“The Dark Lord requires we find an item. Or rather, make sure an item cannot be found.”

Bellatrix pushes off the wall. “So we’re checking the store to see if it’s there?”

Rabastan nods gruffly.

“Ugh. That’s dull.”

“Yes, well, not to the Dark Lord. Let’s go.” The two of them start off towards the store. After a beat Regulus joins them. 

The bell goes off jarringly as they enter, making Regulus flinch slightly. Bellatrix makes a beeline for the front desk where a pudgy old man sits hunched over a ledger. 

“Bella! And young Regulus. How lovely to see you. What can I do for you today?”

Bellatrix opens her mouth to respond but Rabastan pushes past her, resting a heavy hand on the counter. “We need to see if you have a book. A diary.”

The old man pushes his glasses up his nose. “A diary, you say? Who’s?”

Rabastan grunts. “Tom Riddle.”

Something icy drips down Regulus’s spine. He takes a step forward. Rabastan ignores him, staring at the old man. “Do you have it?”

The man tuts, frowning. “Perhaps. I’d need to check.” He stays firmly in his seat.

Rabastan reaches into his pocket to pull out some coins, but Bellatrix beats him to it. Her wand’s under the old man’s chin in a flash. “Would you like to know which name Tom Riddle goes by now?” The old man’s eyes glitter, focused on her face. He says nothing and Bellatrix takes that as an invitation. “Lord Voldemort. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? You’re not Borgin, or Burke, so I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing here. But surely you’re smart enough to piece together that we have no qualms about doing whatever we deem necessary to secure that journal.” Bellatrix licks her lips. “Oh, and it’d be such fun too.” 

Regulus can’t move. Lord Voldemort? So Tom Riddle, the Basilisk’s boy, was Voldemort? He valiantly attempts to piece everything together. The timing worked, and from what he’d heard of the Basilisk’s mission the morals checked out as well. It answered a lot of questions about Regulus’s task, too. But why had he left the Basilisk? And why were they here now, looking for his diary?

“Mm. Master Borgin will not be happy. But very well, I’ll take a look.” The old man eases himself off the stool and waddles to a bookcase, slowly pursuing the titles and muttering to himself. 

“God, I hate old men.” Bellatrix groans, dramatically throwing herself back against the counter. “They smell dreadful, all the time.”

Regulus clears his throat. “Do you know why the Dark Lord wants his old diary?”

“I didn’t ask.” Rabastan looks him over again in that horribly uncomfortable way. “I suggest you don’t either, boy.”

“Have you gotten the mark yet?” Bellatrix rolls her head down to look at him. “I’ve forgotten who has and who hasn’t.”

Regulus shakes his head and she tuts. “Soon, then. I can’t imagine Walburga wants to wait much longer.” She gives him a knowing look. “Especially after…”

“I’m not my brother.”

She bares her teeth. “I guess we’ll have to see. That rat out there’s a step in the right direction. He refused to hurt the smallest of creatures, as I’m sure you remember. Quite weak, that one.”

Regulus holds her gaze. “I’m not him. I'm not weak.”

It takes a second, really, only a second, before she’s shoving her way into his head. Regulus grabs the counter as his mind splits into pain. She’s digging through memories like one would dig through a closet, grabbing them and then roughly throwing them aside. Regulus can’t focus on anything except trying to keep James away from her. He holds the memories tight, fortifying his walls with his resolve. But Bellatrix has always been stronger and her mind sharper, and soon Regulus feels himself begin to crack. 

Someone clears their throat and Bellatrix pulls out of his head with an agonizing precision. Regulus is left gasping, clutching the counter in an attempt to stay upright. “Uh oh,” She whispers, head bent and lips close to his ear. “A bit of a close call there, eh?”

The old man, the one Regulus assumes cleared his throat, is wringing his hands. “No luck, Miss. No diary here.”

Rabastan nods in satisfaction as Bellatrix straightens up. “Good. Alert us the second something comes in matching that description. You know where to find me.”

Regulus is still trying to focus on actually getting air into his lungs. Currently, it’s proving quite the struggle. Someone says his name, quick and sharp, and he does his best to straighten, pulling his shoulders back like he’s been trained to. He’s still breathing heavily as he follows his cousin out into the street. 

She turns and grins at him. “We’ll have to talk later, you and I. Maybe after dinner? The whole family will be there, you know. Cissy’s bringing Lucius.” 

He nods stiffly, still reeling. She winks at him and sends Rabastan a little wave. “Bye, Rabby,” She calls, taking Regulus’s arm. Rabastan gives Regulus one last slow look before he turns and vanishes on the spot. Bellatrix digs her nails into Regulus’s forearm and apprerates them back to Grimmauld place. He lands with a wobble, ignoring Bellatrix and pushing through the door. 

He goes straight to his room. 

 

---

 

When he and Sirius were little, they used to detest family dinners. The air was always thick with formality and there was so much pressure to behave it felt like one wrong word and their mother might snap. They’d sit next to each other, every time, pressed against the wall. Regulus always thought it was awfully reminiscent of a cage. 

His back’s to the wall again, but Sirius is nowhere to be found. Regulus somehow finds the table no less stuffy than he did as a kid.

“Walburga…” Bellatrix traces a nail over the rim of her wine glass.

“Yes?”

“I believe Reggie could do with some legilimency lessons. Would you let me teach him?”

Regulus feels himself freeze up, going stiff. The thought of Bellatrix’s sharp fingers constantly prying into his mind, trying to scratch out his most painful secrets nearly shuts Regulus off completely. He feels his face lock down just as his mother sends a glance his way. 

“I fear it’s too early. He’s not ready for that kind of invasion.”

Bellatrix shakes her head, hair flying. “Today on our errand he was unable to properly resist my attempts. What’s he going to do if Dumbledore gets ahold of him? He’s on that mission from the Dark Lord, we all know it. It’s only a matter of time till Dumbledore knows it too.”

Walburga seems to consider, staring hard at Regulus. He can feel the waters thick and heavy, rising like they always do under her gaze. “I suppose he’ll have to learn eventually.”

Don't.

“Fine. Bella, you teach him. Not too harsh, I need him mentally sound.” Walburga picks up her knife again. She cuts into her steak as Bellatrix hums happily and turns to face him.

“There you go, cousin. We’ll start later this week. And smile, for once. It’ll be fun.” 

But Regulus can’t smile. He can’t do anything except stare at his plate, hand clenched into a fist under the table. 

“Regulus.” He looks up sharply at his name, his father’s cold eyes cutting into him from across the table. “Eat your food.”

Regulus nods and chokes down a bite of potatoes. He’s sure they’re as full of flavor as boiled potatoes can be- but to him they taste like nothing but mush and decay. He swallows carefully and raises his eyes. “May I ask a question?” Walburga gives him a curt nod and he continues. “Why would the Dark Lord change his name from Tom Riddle?” 

Across the table, his father goes stiff. “He was growing into his power,” Lucius says, spearing some vegetables. “He needed a new name to go with his new being. Why do you care?” 

Regulus clears his throat. “I was just curious. What power?”

”Don’t ask questions about things you needn’t concern yourself with, Regulus. It’s rude.” 

“Sorry, Maman.” Regulus ducks his head. He shouldn’t have pushed his luck. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Narcissa frown at him slightly. 

“The Dark Lord is planning an attack with Dolohov and Rabastan later this week in Birmingham. I expect he’ll target a few of the ministry workers that live there.” Orion takes a small sip of wine. “Bellatrix, has he approached you with any plans?”

Bellatrix sighs and shakes her head. “No. My Lord has requested I stay out of this one. My skill sets are not as… delicate as he’d need them to be.”

“Do we have a meeting this week?” Lucius shifts in his seat and Regulus forces himself to take another bite. 

Narcissa shakes her head. “Not that I know of. Not a full group meeting.” 

“I don’t know when he’ll stop by.” Walburga looks up. “We’re not scheduled for anything currently.”

“Ah. Not even to ask for a progress report on Regulus?” Lucius asks. 

Regulus’s hand jerks at the sound of his name. His mother sniffs. “I couldn’t presume to know the Dark Lord’s intentions.”

“Oh Walburga, there’s no need.” Bellatrix lets out a little laugh. “Lucius, yes. I imagine it’s to see how our little heir is doing.”

Little heir sounds too much like Little Prince, and suddenly Regulus finds himself missing the Basilisk. A week and a half, he tells himself. Just a week and a half, and he’ll be back at school. He’ll see James. He’ll visit the chamber. And then… 

The reminder of what he still has to do hits him so hard he chokes and then coughs on his food. Bellatrix claps him on the back, rough. “Too much pressure for you, Reggie? Scared?”

Regulus shakes his head, still trying to remember how to breathe. “I’m fine. Désolé.” 

“Eh. I’ll suppose we’ll know soon enough.” Bellatrix leans down to whisper in his ear. “I’m so excited to get a good peak into that little head of yours.” Regulus shoots her a cold look and she cackles. “So stoney! I can’t wait to watch you break .”

Sometimes Regulus wonders what tragic event in her past made her so horribly insane. He’s never asked. Maybe he should.  

“Bella, lay off him.” Narcissa refills her wine and directs her attention to Walburga. “Have you managed to secure the inheritance money from Alphard’s will?” 

Walburga sighs. “Not yet. The ministry’s being difficult because he was technically disowned so we aren’t entirely next of kin.”

“But hasn’t Sirius been legally emancipated?” Narcissa asks. Regulus notices his mother’s eyes harden. 

“Not legally, no. Not yet. We wanted to wait because of something like this.”

“So technically he’s not the next of kin either.”

“Yes, but he was the only one Alphard dictated in his will,” Orion explains.”We’re still working on it, but right now the Ministry doesn’t seem to be on our side.”

“Traitors stick together.” Bellatrix hums. “Slimy gits.”

Kreature appears, magic popping as plates of desert appear on the table. A platter of bread pudding falls directly in front of Regulus.
Regulus sets down his fork. “May I please be excused?”

Walburga sends him a lazy glance. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not hungry right now.”

“After Kreature worked so hard?”

Regulus knows to stay silent, waiting. Eventually Walburga nods and flicks her hand. “Go. Leave the adults to talk. No eavesdropping.”

Regulus nods and mutters a quick thank you before ducking out and up to his room. As soon as he opens the door Kreature appears with a pop. “Master Regulus isn’t eating anything, so Kreature is bringing him some rolls from dinner.” He sets down a plate with two bread rolls on Regulus’s bedside table. “Did Kreature make something Master Regulus isn’t liking?”

“Thank you Kreature. No, everything was delicious. I just wasn’t hungry.”

Kreature nods suspiciously and points to the rolls. “Master Regulus must eat those now, otherwise he’ll be having not enough food. Kreature notices Master Regulus didn’t eat lunch either.”

Regulus smiles to himself. Kreature must be in a constant state of concern. Regulus never eats much when he’s home- the food all turns to rot the second his mother opens her mouth. “Thank you Kreature. I will.”

Kreature gives him another nod and a look and then vanishes with a pop, leaving Regulus alone with the dark and his bread rolls. He settles cross legged onto his bed, closing his eyes. He takes off his shirt, shivering slightly in the cold. He runs a hand over his shoulder, fingers exploring light scars. 

Regulus's fingers trace the contours of his body, a shadowed silhouette against the faint moonlight filtering through the window. His touch lingers over the protrusion of his ribs.

He’s far too skinny; he has been for a while. Something about this house hollows him out. But James. Oh, James. He’d watched him with wide eyes, had touched him in much the same way Regulus’s doing now but with a thousand times more reverence. He’d whispered soft praise into his ear, and Regulus had never felt more full.  

Regulus shakes his head, settling his hands back on his knees. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. He plies his thoughts into a mountain of sand, letting them crumble and dissolve on the tide of each breath. He focuses on that, the endless tide, until all that’s left is an empty sea of nothingness. 

This time, he stays afloat. 

 

---

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in your room before.” Pandora looks around, settling herself on the bed. Regulus stares at her.

“Why are you here?”

She tilts her head. “I wanted to see you. It’s been almost a week and you haven’t responded to my letter.”

“...I’ve been busy.”

“Liar.” She cuts him a look. “Why have I never been here before?”

“The only reason you’re here now is because my parents are out. They’d never have let you in.” (He, of course, had no choice. The second Kreature opened the door she was bounding up the stairs to find him.) Regulus folds his arms, slightly uncomfortable. He’s never had a friend here before- it’s an odd mix of his two worlds. He doesn’t like it. 

...He does have to admit her presence is annoyingly calming. 

“Would you like to go for a walk or something? You look like you haven’t seen the sun in five years.” 

Regulus just stares at her, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Anything to get her out . 

They step into the hall, Regulus glancing around carefully. Pandora follows him, admiring the wood paneling that never seems to shine no matter how many times Kreature waxes it. “Who’s room is that?”

She’s pointing, naturally, to the one directly across the hall. He doesn’t need to look. “Sirius’s.” Pandora doesn’t say anything, taking a soft breath. 

They get to the bottom of the stairs and Regulus calls for Kreature, letting him know they’re going out. “If Mother arrives before I do, let her know I’ve gone out for a quick errand and I’ll be home shortly. Can you do that for me, Kreature?”

“Of course, Master Regulus. Kreature lives to serve the Noble House of Black.” He bends himself into a low bow before vanishing into thin air. 

“Hm.” Pandora murmurs. Regulus shoots her a look. 

“What?”

“You’re just very… soft with him.”

“Fuck off.”

Regulus steps out onto the stoop and immediately wants to go back inside. “Dora, it’s bright.”

“Yes. That would be the sun.”

“Ugh.” But the cold air is crisp in Regulus’s lungs, and he likes the way it bites. “Why are you really here?”

Pandora sighs, tossing her head back to stare at the sky. “Does it matter?”

Regulus just shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting to walk. Pandora catches up to him quickly. “How’s your break going?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you should respond to my letters.”

“Mm.”

“Have there been any more meetings? Barty and Evan haven’t said anything.” Pandora kicks a pebble and Regulus watches it bounce down the sidewalk. 

“No. I don’t think there’ll be any all break. Doesn’t have anything to say, I guess.”

“What are you doing later this week, then? We were thinking about going out.”

Regulus grimaces. “Legilimency training with Bellatrix.”

Pandora looks up at him. “Really?”

He nods, keeping his eyes on his feet. “It’ll be fine.”

“Do your parents know? I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Regulus snorts. “They gave her the go-ahead. Dora, I’ll figure it out.”

“Regulus, she’s ruthless.”

“You should meet my mother.” The words slip from Regulus's lips before he can stop them, hanging heavy in the air. His steps falter on the sidewalk, his body freezing in place as if rooted to the ground. Pandora comes to a stop as well, her gaze piercing through him with an intensity that leaves him feeling raw and exposed.

“I’ve heard things about your mother,” She says eventually, voice gentle and melodic. 

"She's not all bad," he murmurs, starting to walk again. 

They cross the next few blocks in silence, listening to the sway of the trees. Pandora breaks it. “Dorcas told her parents she was gay,” She says finally.

Even here, when there’s no one to bear witness but the birds, Regulus feels a familiar surge of fear shoot up his spine. He glances around instinctually and she smiles softly. “Reg. It's fine.”

He thinks of the scars on his arm and almost wants to laugh. He holds it in. 

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “How’d it go?”

“Well. Not lovely, I suppose. Not as bad as she expected, though. They aren’t kicking her out, or anything. Just… a difference of opinion.” 

Dorcas had told him she was gay in third year. She’d been crying when he found her, tucked under the staircase. Obviously afraid. He’d had, of course, no idea how to respond, simply staring at her. His brother had long since taught him you couldn’t say things like that. Not if you wanted to stay a member of the Black family. Not if you wanted to survive.

But this was Dorcas, and she was different. She had more freedom. She wasn’t him. So eventually he’d offered a hesitant smile and a whispered promise not to tell anyone, and she’d beamed and hugged him, telling him she knew he’d understand. He didn’t mention the depth of his understanding; that, no one had to know. So he tucked all his secrets (including James Potter’s smile) down deep and focused on supporting his friend. 

“They aren’t mad?” He hates the persistent fear in his voice. 

“Hm. They are. They’re still purebloods. But… she’s ok.”

Regulus takes a shuddering breath, looking up at the clouds. “Ok.” He repeats. 

He can feel her eyes on him. “You’re curious about something.” Her hair falls over her shoulder in a blond wave, the charms she braids into it clinking slightly in the breeze. 

“I- I didn’t know you knew. About Dorcas, I mean. When did she tell you?”

Pandora blinks. “She didn’t. I’ve always known.”

“Like my parseltongue?”

Pandora thinks about that for a moment. “Yes.”

Thank you, he says softly and watches as her eyes flick to his. Thank you for not saying anything.  

“You look natural like that.” She hums, watching him. “Those words seem… right for you.” 

Regulus holds her eyes, considering. “Are you ok with Dorcas?”

“Yes.” She says, with no hesitation. “I am.”

“Is Evan? Is Barty? Is Snape, or Mulciber?” 

“Evan… maybe. Barty, not yet. Snape and Mulciber probably not.”

“See? It’s not safe for her.”

Pandora gives him a look. “You mean it’s not safe for you.”

Regulus breath catches, stomach plunging. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It’s irrational, he tells himself. To be this scared. Especially around Pandora. But… 

Pandora studies him for a moment as he tries to find words. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry. Did I tell you? We got a puppy. My mother insisted. He’s very cute, but I feel like he knows more than he’s letting on. My father says I’m crazy, but then again everyone does.” 

She keeps talking, letting him calm down. He focuses on his breathing, latching on to her words. Using them as a tether to climb out of whatever dreadful pit of panic he’s shoved himself into. 

“Anyway, I take him on walks but I still can’t quite trust him. I don’t know what it is. I think it’s something about the eyes. They’re too big.”

“Just like you, to accuse a puppy of hiding something.” Regulus’s voice is scratchy, but it works nonetheless. Pandora doesn’t react.

“Yes, well, I’m right about most things. This is no different.”

They turn around the block, turning back towards Grimmauld Place. Regulus glares at it as they approach. Pandora loops her arms through his. “I expect a letter, you know. Especially after your training with Bellatrix. I need to know you’re still mentally sound.” 

“I’ll consider it.” The truth is Walburga intercepts any letters Regulus sends out, burning them in the fireplace. She doesn’t particularly approve of any of his friends, save Evan. 

Pandora leans up, kissing him on the cheek. “Good luck,” she calls, turning and walking off in the direction they came from. Regulus watches her go for a minute before turning back to the house. 

“Kreature tells me you went on an errand.”

Walburga’s waiting for him at the kitchen table, reading a paper. Regulus nods stiffly. “I went on a walk. With a friend.”

She flips a page. “Who?”

“Pandora.”

“I’ve told you time and time again you shouldn’t associate with those types of people. They bring nothing but trouble.” She folds up the paper, standing up. “And don’t consider getting into a relationship now, Regulus. We’re going to have to find you a more suitable match in the near future. Best, for your own sake, to keep all options open. It’ll hurt less that way.” 

“Don’t worry.” Regulus looks down. “We’re just friends.”

“Hm.” Walburga watches him like a hawk would watch a mouse. “Keep it that way.”

She walks into the living room and Regulus knows he’s expected to follow her. He does, of course, albeit a little stiffly. Walburga settles into an armchair. “When the Dark Lord stops by again, what will you tell him? Have you completed your task?”

Regulus looks down. “I just need a little more time.”

Walburga sends him a sharp look and he nearly flinches from that alone. “You’ve had time, Regulus. You can’t keep letting him down like this. You do realize your actions reflect on the House of Black as a whole? If you’d stop being so desperately selfish you’d understand that everything isn’t always about you. What you do makes us all look bad.”

“I’m sorry, Maman.”

“I don’t want your apologies. I want progress. It’s a simple task, yes? Retrieve the Basilisk’s fangs. I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”

“I…”

“A knife? Is that what you need?” Walburga waves her wand, summoning something small from the other room. She catches it gracefully and as he watches she finds a catch and flicks it open. It instantly extends into a long hunting knife. The sight of the blade nearly makes Regulus sick. “Here.” She crosses to him slowly, reaching out her hand. He hesitates and then holds his arm out for her to take. She grabs his palm instead, yanking it towards her. 

Carefully she presses the knife feather-light against his skin. It’s so gentle he doesn’t feel it, just knows it’s there. As he watches a line of red appears beneath the blade, blood pooling in the cup of his palm. He feels nothing. Walburga draws the knife back, wiping it on her sleeve before flicking it shut. His hand begins to sting a moment later and he hisses through his teeth. 

“You see? Sharp enough to cut through nearly anything.” She hands the knife to him and he takes it with his clean hand, trying to keep his fingers steady. Regulus wants to throw it out the window. Instead, he pockets it.

“Thank you, Maman.”

“Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“Use it.”

He swallows. “Of course.”

Walburga lets out a small breath. “How are you doing with classwork?”

“I’m all done. I did it the first day.”

She narrows her eyes. “Were you rushing?”

“No.”

“Then why were you able to get it done so quickly?"

Regulus shifts on his feet. "I didn't have that much."

“Why are you taking classes that give you so little work?”

Regulus falters. “I- I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can ask for more, if you’d like.”

“This isn’t about what I’d like, Regulus. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for you. This is your future I’m trying to set up here. The least you could do is show some drive.”

“Of course, Maman. I’ll ask for more. I can handle more.”

She nods curtly. “Good. It’s your job now, to keep Dumbledore away from us. From this.” She motions to the room at large. 

Regulus swallows, looking down. “Of course.”

Walburga takes a step forward and he flinches. 

Shit. 

“You haven’t told me something.” She narrows his eyes and Regulus opens his mouth to explain- but it’s too late.

She’s in his head and he doesn’t even try to hide, offering up all the memories he has of Dumbledore. She scrapes through them, scouring every inch. The veritaserum in his tea, spilled across Dumbledore's office carpet. The truths ripped out of him against his will. Her letter, clutched in his frail hand and locked in a desk drawer. Regulus can’t help but stumble as she rips herself out, furious. 

It takes one good curse and he’s on his knees in front of her, unnaturally still. 

“You lied.” She spits, wand raised. 

He shakes his head. “I- I couldn’t tell you. If he found out you knew it’d be worse-”

But another curse silences him and he falls forward, catching himself with one hand. The fibers of the rug dig into the cut on his palm. 

“He was monitoring our mail and you said nothing? Do you know how many plans you could’ve betrayed? Could’ve ruined?”
Regulus tries to compose himself. He can take this. It’s nothing new, after all. “I’m sorry, Maman. I was afraid of-”

“Afraid. You gave away the Dark Lord’s precious secrets and didn’t tell us, and you’re afraid? It’s not him you should be afraid of, boy.” She takes another step and suddenly she’s right in front of him, glaring. "The Dark Lord is your master now. You serve him. You put him above everyone. Do not apologize to me."

"You're going... are you going to tell him?" Regulus can't breathe past the fear crawling up his throat. 

Walburga stares at him for a long moment, and for a split second, he can see something in her eyes soften. A silent war. She presses her lips into a thin line, staying silent. 

It doesn't matter. Regulus knows. 

She'll see him hurt, sure, but she needs him alive. 

She won't say anything. 

After a moment, she turns and walks out. 

 

---

 

“Can Kreature make Master Regulus feel better in some way? He’s looking sad.” Kreature twists his pillowcase nervously. 

Regulus closes his eyes, shaking his head. “No thank you, Kreature. I’ll be alright.” 

“Master Regulus is saying he has a task for me?”

“Oh- yes. Can you please put this in my trunk upstairs?” Regulus pulls the folded knife out of his pocket and hands it to Kreature who takes it curiously. 

“Of course, Master Regulus.”

“Thank you.” 

Kreature bows then disappears into the air. Regulus stares after him. Sometimes he wonders if Kreature’s the only thing in this house worth saving. 

 

---

 

“Legilimens.”

Regulus cries out again, shoving his hands over his ears as if to block her out. Bellatrix advances on him, already scratching at the locked box inside his mind. He’s sore and aching- not only from his mother’s realization the other day, but from Bellatrix’s repeated intrusions into his head. Each one is sharper than the last, as if it’s her physical nails prying into his mind. 

“Stop.” Regulus grits, shaking so hard he can’t see straight.

She cackles, tossing her head back. “You want me to stop? Then force me out. Resist.”

“Bella… Walburga asked you to go easy on him.” Narcissa crosses her arms and Regulus glares at her. 

“Where’s the fun in that? He’s strong, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen everything except...” Bellatrix shoves herself back in, going directly for the memories Regulus doesn’t even let himself go near. Can’t even think about- for fear of her seeing them too.

“He’s going to crack soon, I can feel it.” Bellatrix clicks her tongue, withdrawing and staring down at him. They’re in the courtyard behind Grimmauld Place; and they have been for the past two hours.  

“The goal isn’t to make him crack, it’s to teach him how to resist.” Rodolphus lounges on the ground, leaning against the wall. He’s fiddling with a stick, snapping it into more and more pieces.

Bellatrix raises her wand. “Perhaps a crucio will remind him.”

Narcissa steps forward. “Bella, no. Look at him. His mother already… I mean- you can tell, can’t you? He won’t be able to take that right now.”

Regulus wants to spit that she knows nothing, that he’ll do whatever it takes, but part of him worries she’s right. He lost his ability to stand a while ago, hunched over himself on the ground. He needs to focus, needs to find a way to block her out- but how can he when all his energy’s focused on protecting James?

He’s kept that secret since he was eleven. He’s not about to give it up now. 

“Regulus. Put up walls. Expand them out.” Narcissa moves to stand next to her sister, looking down at him. “Resist her.”

“How?” He hisses, and he knows it sounds a little too much like parseltongue. He can’t find it in himself to care. 

“You’re protecting something. Use that drive, that resolve, to force her out entirely.”

Bellatrix pouts. “You’re giving him all the answers, Cissy. Ruining my fun. Legilimens!” 

Regulus can’t bite back the cry he lets out as she pierces through him again. He can feel her magic, purple and white-hot, snaking its way into his head. It’s like a snake, a tether between him and her. He tries to think about what Narcissa said, tries to expand his walls, but that just leaves him more vulnerable. In desperation he instinctually flings a curse at her and she rips out of his head, chuckling. 

“Got a little too close there, did I?” She whispers, leaning over him. “Almost saw something.” 

“Si vous plait,” He tilts his head up at her, trying to condense all his anger and fury into one look. “Laisse-moi tranquille.”

“Are you begging, little heir?”

He narrows his eyes. Never. 

And wasn't English or French, but it no longer matters because she’s raising her wand again. “Ligilimens!” 

He’s ready this time. She’s going for James again, but Regulus focuses on her magical energy. On the snake of power weaving its way into his thoughts. He’s a Slytherin and a Parselmouth- snakes are what he knows best. 

He imagines the pile of sand thoughts again, building it around his memories of James. A tower of emotions and secrets and worries, getting slowly washed away by the tide of his breathing. Like the other night, he pictures the sea of nothingness. Wave after wave of empty, blank feeling. Everything, gone. It’s slow and methodical, but he’s been practicing. He just didn’t think he’d be able to try it so soon: Bellatrix left little room for the focus needed to withhold the state. He thought he’d have to force her out, but perhaps all he has to do is force himself out instead. 

He shudders.

Breath in.

Out. 

Another emotion gone, disappeared beneath the waves. 

In. 

Out. 

His mother, his brother, all drowning. He lets them, watches as they disappear. 

In. 

Out. 

James. 

In. 

Out. 

He can feel his physical body lurching with effort- or maybe someone's sending a curse at him. He’s too focused on his breath to tell. 

In. 

Out. 

Blank. 

Empty.

Nothing. 

Bellatrix pulls back, crying out in frustration. She aims a hard kick to the middle of Regulus’s chest and he falls to his back, panting with exertion. He can do nothing but gasp as she leers over him. 

“So, you did learn something then. Maybe you aren’t so useless after all.” Another kick to the ribs.

Narcissa chuckles. “Stop being a sore loser, Bella.” She glances down at Regulus. “You did well. Your mother will be happy. Let’s let him rest now. We’ll come back to this tomorrow. He’s made a start- that’s all we wanted.”

From the wall, Rodolphus grumbles in agreement and stands up. Bellatrix gives him one last seething look and struts out of the courtyard, sister and husband following close behind. 

Regulus chokes out a gasp he’d been holding in, all his muscles turning to jelly in relief. He’s sore and aching and in so much pain- he can do nothing but stare at the darkening sky and shiver. He can’t move, can’t talk, trying to pull himself back together. Are his ribs broken? Probably. 

When he does pull himself to his feet night has long fallen. He stumbles to the wall, grabbing on to it for support and vomiting behind a flower bush. He’s so used to the taste by now that he just wipes his mouth, grimacing. His head pounds in pain- it’s potentially the worst migraine he’s ever had. He can barely see, the world's spinning so hard. 

He practically crawls to his door, shoving it open and leaning against the frame. His room is dark and chilly, dreadfully small. He’s shaking but he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or just… him. He’s alone, he realizes. Alone and entirely ruined. 

He imagines going to the window, throwing it open. He’d half climb, half fall to the ground. He’d pick himself up and disappear into the night, too quick for anyone to notice. He knows the Potter's address- James practically shoved it down his throat. He’d force himself up their steps, basking in the orange glow seeping through the windows and the crack under the door. He’d knock and it’d open immediately, Euphemia Potter waiting on the other side. She’d understand, of course. Sirius had been here too. She’d know what to do. She’d guide him past the threshold and James would come down the stairs, grinning wildly. “You did it Reg,” he’d whisper, taking him in his arms. “You did it. You’re alright now.” 

He’d lead him to the couch and Sirius would be there, already running to get the first aid kit. Euphemia would patch him up and Sirius wouldn’t ask him to explain because he’d already know. The house would be warm and golden, smelling of spices and James’s shampoo. Somewhere the radio would be playing, soft love songs drifting from the kitchen. Euphemia would pull out her wand and fix the cuts on his face and ribs, Sirius handing her bandages for those that couldn’t be magically healed. James would sit on his other side, the back of his hand just barely brushing Regulus’s pinky. A secret reassurance, a hidden affection. He’d sink into the cushions and let his head rest back against them- exhausted but safe. Warm. Golden.

Back in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the night rattles against the wooden shutters. The dark cold seems to seep in from every corner, numbing him to his core. He makes it to his bed, mattress creaking under his weight. He aches as he curls into himself, trying to muffle the tears that quietly slip from his lashes. Around him, the house stays silent, lonely. He’s shivering uncontrollably- it’s as if the cold has permeated his very marrow at this point. It won’t matter how many blankets he buries himself under- it’s in his bones. The dark presses in from every angle, its frigid grip leaving him utterly and entirely alone.  

Across the room, his window stays closed. 

 

Notes:

See? some good some bad

Chapter 29: Forgiven

Notes:

A short one, sorry guys

— five days earlier —

“Are you going to open the door?”

Lily raps persistently on the window, glaring at James. They’ve locked the compartment, just the three of them curled up in the seats. James and Peter are playing chess and Remus is reading.  

“James, let her in.” Remus says absently, flipping a page. James huffs.

“She stole my last chocolate frog.”

“You’re rich,” Lily shouts through the glass. “Buy another one. Remus wants me in, doesn’t he?”

“I do.”

“He doesn’t.”

Lily sends James another withering look and he sighs, pushing away the chessboard and getting up to unlock the door. “Why hang out with us, anyway? What about the girls?”

Lily puts a hand on her hip and James shakes his head frantically. “Not that we’re not very grateful you’re here.”

“I got bored. Mary’s found some poor fifth year and they’ve started snogging. I had to get out of there.”

Pete wrinkles his nose. “Understandable.”

Lily settles down next to Remus and glances over the chessboard. “James, have you ever won a game of chess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I win all the time.”

“Evidently. Queen to e5.” Lily leans forward and watches intently as Peter’s queen slides across the board and instantly decapitates James’s king. 

“That’s not fair! That’s cheating!” 

Peter starts to box up the pieces, grinning. “A wins a win.”

Lily winks and turns back to Remus. “What are you reading?”

“Hogwarts, a History.”

“Again?”

Remus shrugs. “It’s a good one.”

“You can’t describe a textbook as ‘a good one’.” James throws his head back against the wall, bored now that the game’s over. Remus just tsks. 

They fall into a comfortable silence, the scenery flowing by outside the window. James closes his eyes, wondering if the potions in his bag above him are staying together properly. He imagines trying to explain a steady stream of thick orange liquid dripping out of the bag and onto the floor to his friends. He decides to trust Regulus and his vials, and promptly falls asleep. 

He drifts awake to the sound of gentle conversation. He doesn’t open his eyes, relaxing into the sound of his friend’s soft voices and Peter’s snores. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lily. I can’t… I can’t see him right now.”

“He’s miserable , Rem.” 

“I know. Don’t you think I know?”

“Did he do something truly unforgivable or are you just holding onto a grudge?”

“I… can’t tell you.”

“He’s never seemed so down. Remus…”

“Lily, please.”

“I’ll stop. I swear. I just- I don’t know.”

Remus sighs. “I need more time.”

“You know how I know it’s bad? James doesn’t speak to him anymore. James.” Lily laughs a little. “I’ve never seen one without the other and now…”

“I know.” 

It’s odd, James thinks. The way they talk about him when they don’t think he’s listening. 

“He looks so sad,” Lily says softly. “Potter, I mean. When he’s around Sirius, he’s so sad.”

“You been watching James, Evans?”

James can practically hear her flush. “I- No. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Remus lets out a breath. “I don’t want to keep them apart. That was never- he doesn't need to do that.”

“He’s showing you he cares.” Lily says, and it’s work for James not to open his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“He misses him. So do you.”

“I miss trusting him.”

James’s heart clenches, and Lily groans. “You really can’t tell me what he did? You’re killing me here.”

“I…”

And before Remus says something he’ll regret, James decides to make his entrance. Yawning slightly, he blinks and sits up. “How long?”

“Still got an hour or two to go, Prongs.” Remus leans back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. There’s a dark quality to his eyes that makes James frown slightly. 

“You sure you don’t just want to stay the full two weeks with us? Might be easier travel wise.”

“Nah, Mum wants me home. And…” He trails off but James already knows. 

“Yeah. Yeah, ok. Well, you’re welcome anytime.”

Lily stands up, stretching a bit. “I’m going to go check on Mary and the others. There’s no way they’re still snogging.” She pauses. “...Right?”

James chuckles and Remus shrugs helplessly. “Best of luck.”

She steps out and slides the door shut behind her. Remus looks back at James, running a hand through his hair. “So- I have to ask. You’re over her? Completely? 100%? I know you have something else going on, but it’s just so sudden-”

“Not really mate. Not sudden at all. I…” James trails off, thinking about the way Regulus’s eyes look on a cloudy day. “I can’t see her like that right now.”

“Not sudden? I thought it’d only been a month?”

“Yeah, I mean, technically, but… we’ve been seeing each other for longer.”

Remus runs a hand over his face. “So that’s where you’ve been off to. Doing what, might I ask?”

“Nothing! Talking. Hanging out. I don’t know. Stop asking so many questions.” James flusters, not meeting his eyes.

Remus gives him a sly grin. “But our little Prongs is all grown up and seeing some handsome mysterious man! What am I supposed to do, if not ask questions?” 

James glares. “Keep your nose out of my business.”

“It's our business now, Potter.” 

James just huffs and Remus smiles. “Another round of chess? We’ve got time.”

He pulls the board between them and James rolls his eyes. 

 

---

— present —

 Regulus frowns in concentration, clearing his mind again. Focusing. Bellatrix has almost gotten through a number of times by now, but he’s starting to get better. Quicker. Instead of a door in his mind, it’s an ocean to drown his thoughts in. It’s fine , he thinks. The door always ended up splintering anyway . The drowned stay drowned, and his mind stays clean. 

“ Legilimens. ” She’s gripping him by the chin now, hard enough to bruise. He keeps his gaze cool. Weary, but strong. Ready. She pushes into his head and he lets her, keeping his mind blank and empty. When she finds nothing of value, she pulls back and grins wildly. “Good job,” She spits, voice dripping with disdain. There’s nothing but malice in her eyes. “You really are getting better. Not the way I would’ve done it, but effective nonetheless. Go. Leave. I have better matters to deal with. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow. I don’t want to see you anymore.” She drops his chin and stands up from where she was kneeling in front of him, shaking off her dress.

Regulus nods curtly, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over him. Occlumency might be a valuable skill, but the toll it takes on his body is undeniable. He’s exhausted constantly now from the sheer exertion of having to shove every single thought, desire, and memory down far enough even Bellatrix’s relentless nails can’t reach. 

He stumbles wearily to his feet, closing his eyes for a moment. Trying to bring himself back. Sometimes, when it’s been a bad day, he lets himself sink too far. He makes his way to the house in a slight haze, distracted and slightly out of it. He’ll go to his bedroom, he decides. Read up on Basilisks, maybe take a short nap before dinner. Try not to think too hard. 

He passes his father’s closed study and… pauses. Hesitates. He can hear voices. After a brief consideration, he presses his ear to the door. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Walburga.” His father.

“You aren’t listening to me.”

Regulus presses slightly closer. 

“I’ve been listening to you. You just don’t make any sense.”

“He’s not ready, Orion. Not so soon.” 

“We have no choice.”

They’re talking about him, Regulus realizes vaguely. Who else?

“If he does this, the Dark Lord will want him to take The Mark. And then…”

“And then he joins us.”

Regulus takes a steadying breath, pressing closer. 

“That’s my point. He’s not ready to join us. I can’t…”

“Walburga.”

“I can’t lose him too, Orion. If something happens-”

“Nothing’s going to happen. We won’t lose him. He’s ready. You’ve made him ready. We both have.”

“His brother-”

“His brother is a traitor. His brother doesn’t count. Regulus is not his brother.”

Regulus finds he’s subconsciously digging his nails into his palm in a futile attempt to steady himself. He forces his fist to unclench. 

He can hear his mother sigh. “I can’t go through that again, Orion. Sirius is still alive. If Regulus joins us, he might not be.”

“Sirius is no longer our son. You need to stop acting otherwise. Have you forgotten what he’s trying to do with Alphard’s will?”

Walburga scoffs. “I’m not talking about Sirius or Alphard’s will. I’m talking about Regulus. He won’t be 18 yet by the time he takes The Mark. Can you think of anyone younger?”

Orion pauses. “No.”

“16, or even 17, is too young for this kind of fighting. He’s still in school. He needs more experience.”

“The Dark Lord is giving him experience, in the form of his test. If he passes, we’ll have to trust the Dark Lord’s judgment.”

“And if we lose him too? If we lose both our sons in one year? What then, Orion?” The genuine tension in her voice takes Regulus aback. 

“We won’t. Stop fussing. It’s like I said- you’ve been preparing him for this. He’ll be ready.”

There’s a long silence, and Regulus considers continuing to his room. Then his mother speaks, low and in a whisper. He can barely make her out. “And if he’s not?”

“...He’ll have to be.”

“I won’t be the mother that loses two sons. I just won’t.”

“He’ll pass this test and take The Mark. Ready or not, he’ll take it. And after that…” Orion takes a steadying breath, clearing his throat. “After that, it’s up to him.” 

His mother makes a small sound, and it’s the first time in a long time he’s heard her voice carry an emotion other than anger. “I…”

“You can’t protect him forever, Walburga. All you do is keep him here, in this house. You don’t let him learn. He’s going to be pushed out into the real world soon enough, and you won’t be there to keep him safe.”

“You want me to let go? You want me to give up? We tried that already, remember? We let Sirius spend time with the worst people, even though we had full ability to put a stop to that. We let him spend holidays at school. We let him go , Orion.” Regulus hears her set something down on the table. Maybe a glass? “We let him go, and he’s gone now. He’s gone. I won’t make the same mistake again. I won’t extend Regulus’s leash any further than I have to.”

“It’s different now.”

“How?”

“Regulus is a Slytherin, and a Black. He knows where his loyalties lie. He has his priorities under control. He’s our heir, Walburga. Soon we’ll have to let him act like it.”

“Fine. If he gets himself killed, know I tried.”

His father heaves a heavy sigh and soon Regulus hears footsteps approaching. He jolts himself into motion, quickly walking away and towards the stairs. The door opens behind him and he stiffens slightly. 

“Regulus.”

“Yes, Maman?”

“How was occlumency training with Bellatrix?”

He rests a hand on the banister. “It was fine. I think it was fairly successful, all things considered.” 

She looks him up and down, mouth a tight line. “Hm.”

“May I go to my room now?”

She nods, sharp. “Go. I’ll check with Kreature. I expect you to be down for dinner shortly.” 

“Of course.”

“Regulus?”

“Yes?”

She makes a face, crossing her arms. “Cut your hair. It’s too long.” 

He resists the urge to run a hand through his curls. “Alright.” 

She turns and walks out, sharp heels clicking on the wood floor. Regulus leans against the banister, another wave of exhaustion washing over him. He rests his head against the cool wall and closes his eyes, head still spinning. 

Tucked against the railing, his left forearm burns. It’s empty, blank, but it tingles as if it knows what’s coming. He pulls his sleeve up and runs a hand over it, wondering if it’s going to hurt. 

Of course it will, he decides. Everything to do with this family seems to. 

 

---

 

“James, what’s going on?” His father sets a cup of water down on his bedside table. James swallows.

“What do you mean?”

“Somethings off this year. Everytime you come home for break you and Sirius have had a falling out.”

“I know.” James grimaces. 

“It’s like I’m having deja vu here. This time you and Remus and Pete are mad at him ? Not the other way around?”

“That’s right, yeah.”

“What did he do? Can you tell me that much?”

James glowers at the floor. “Nothing worth forgiving.”

“Ah.” Monty sighs, looking down. “Everyone’s worth forgiving if they put in the effort, sweetheart. If they know what they’ve done was wrong and regret it, there’s not much more you can ask of them.” 

James shakes his head stubbornly, knowing he looks like a child. “He could… I don’t know. He could do more.”

Monty’s voice remains gentle. “When you were eleven and came home boasting about your new best friend Sirius, what would you think if he made a mistake? Would you cast him out, right then and there?”

“I… no. But that’s different.”

“How so?”

“If I left him then, he’d have to go back to Walburga and Orion.”

Monty’s eyes glitter. “Ah. Then it’s alright now, because you know at the very least he’s safe here.”

“I mean. I guess so.”

“So you’re allowed to be mad at him, as long as he stays close by and out of harm's way?” 

James says nothing, trying to understand his father's going with this. Monty continues.  “If you’re not planning on forgiving him, there’s no reason to keep him safe. There’s no reason to care.” 

“Of course I care. He’s- he’s my best friend.”

“Don’t you want him back?”

James frowns. “It’s not that simple. He didn’t hurt me. If he did… everything would be fine by now. You know that. It’s Remus. I can’t forgive him because Remus can’t forgive him.”

“Have you talked to Remus about that?”

James shakes his head. “What he did was awful, Dad.”

“I believe you. Does he know that?”

James thinks about Sirius curled up and crying on the astronomy tower bench. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Then what more do you want from him?”

“I…”

“Do you want it to hurt? Because from what I’ve seen, it already does.”

“It’s for Remus.” He says again, meeting his dad’s eyes. 

“You’re a good friend, James. And Remus needs a good friend right now. But so does Sirius.”

“Can’t… can’t someone else do it?”

“Does anyone else mean as much to Sirius as you do?”

Remus, James thinks. Remus does. 

“I’ll figure it out.” James says, changing the subject. “Drink your potion.” He opens his drawer and pulls a vial out of the bag Regulus put together for him, handing it to Monty. 

“You should thank your friend for taking the extra steps to make it taste good. These ones are orange.”
James looks at the color and snorts. “Literally.”

“Will I get to know the identity of my mystery savior one day?”

“Er- I’m not sure. Hopefully. Probably.” 

“Continue to thank them in the meantime, then.”

"Already am, dad.”

“Hm. Probably not enough, knowing you.”

James begins to protest when a voice from the door interrupts him. “Monty?”

“Sirius! Come in.” Monty sits up a little further in bed and James yanks the now empty vial out of his hand and shoves it back in the drawer, shutting it quickly. 

Sirius steps in cautiously, throwing James a quick look. “I could come back later, if you like.”

“No, of course not. It’s fine. Isn’t it?” Monty directs that last bit at James, giving him a look. 

James grimaces, but nods at Sirius. Their eyes meet and this time James doesn’t force any unnecessary malice into his gaze. “Yeah. It’s fine. Stay.”

“...Alright. Thanks.”

James looks back at his dad, standing and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’m… going to go find Remus.”

Monty smiles and nods, sending him a wink. “Good.”

James and Sirius exchange one final look before he steps out, gently closing the door behind him. 

He locates Remus in the guest room, rummaging through his trunk. He knocks lightly on the wall before entering and Remus looks up, startled. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How's your dad?”

“...Ok, I think. I hope. Better, maybe?”

Remus nods. “He seems better. Even just a little bit. Do you know what changed?”
James bites his lip, shoving down the annoying worm of guilt that twists inside his gut. “Nope. Doctors don’t either.”

“Well. If there’s anyone that can beat dragon pox, it’s Monty.”

You’d be surprised , James thinks. He clears his throat. “How was your first week of break without us? Awful? Tragic? The worst time of your life?”

“It was seven days, James.”

“Ah, yes, but seven days without your bestest friends in the whole world.” 

Remus’s face sours and James knows what he’s thinking about. He settles down on the carpet, running a hand over the fibers. “It was… awkward, without you here. Me and him, we don’t talk. At all.” He needs Remus to know he’s on his side in this. Needs him to know he won't abandon him. 

“You can, you know. I don’t care. He did nothing to you.”

“Yes, he did. I had to try and keep Snape’s ugly ass from bleeding out. That’s enough.”

James means it as a joke, but Remus’s face falls instantly. “How badly was Snape hurt? No one will tell me.”

“Nothing awful. Just a bit of blood and a bump on the head. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

Remus just sends him a glare as James reaches past him to grab a book out of his trunk, flipping through it. “I still don’t get how you have time to read so much. I could never.”

“You could, actually, if you ever thought about anything other than quidditch.”

James snorts. “You sound like-” 

Fuck. 

He stops himself just in time. Remus gives him a smug smirk. “Remind you of your boyfriend, do I? Is he mean to you?” James pointedly stays silent and looks away, putting the book back in Remus’s trunk. He can feel Remus’s grin. “You always did like them a little mean, didn’t you Prongs?”

“Lily isn’t mean.”

“Not to the rest of us, but she is to you.” 

James feels caught. “Whatever.”

“Uh huh.” Remus shuts his trunk, latching it carefully. “One more clue for me to stow away,” he whispers conspiratorially and James hits his arm. 

“Don’t even think about going digging, Lupin.”

“You know I already am.” 

James snorts and flops back on the carpet, staring at the ceiling. "Thank you for coming, Moony. I know you didn't have to."

Remus smiles softly. "Of course I did."  

 

---

 

“I need you two to go into town. I’ve run out of dittany.” Effie shoves a list into James’s hand and he blinks at her. Remus is up in his room napping, and he suspects Monty’s doing the same. 

“...Now?”

She levels him with a look and he nods. “Ok. Now. Who’d you mean ‘you two’?” 

Effie glances at Sirius. “Sirius, love, you’re good to run to Diagon Alley, right?”

“Oh.” Sirius glances up from where he’s sitting at the table, pouring over his charms essay. “Uh-”

“Mum-”

“Boys- when was the last time you left the house?”

“It’s fine, Effie. We can go.” Sirius stands up quietly, taking the list from James. He heads out of the room towards the fireplace. 

James snaps his head back to look at his mother. She narrows her eyes. “James.”

“Did you have to-”

“ James .”

“Fine.” He turns and exits the dining room, finding Sirius waiting by the hearth. Sirius steps in first, grabbing a handful of floo powder and quickly vanishing in a plume of green flame. 

James sighs and follows him through. He’s always hated the feeling of the gritty powder slipping through his fingers. 

He lands hard on the cobblestone, finding Sirius next to him. “Let's go.”

The crowd bustles with life, shoppers and vendors shouting across the street. It smells like the city, piss and sweat but also something entirely delightful. James starts moving quickly, Sirius jogging to keep up. 

“Where do they sell dittany?” Sirius asks, almost running into a small woman with a shawl. 

“Cardic's, maybe? They seem to have a lot of herbs.”

They walk in silence, keeping their respective gazes affixed firmly ahead. James tries to stop chewing his cheek, refuses to look next to him. The shop comes into sight and they enter, the hanging angel over the door starting to sing a shrill song in a foreign language. James gives it a look and it stops with a stutter.

Cardic's smells like plants, bunches of dried herbs hanging from every flat surface. Sirius runs a hand through his long hair, and James keeps his eyes on his ceiling when he talks. “No chance you know how to sniff out dittany?”

“It’s there.” Sirius points, grabbing a bundle of small green leaves. They’re so nondescript James would never have been able to recognize them on sight. 

“How did you-”

“I keep the supply in Remus’s drawer stocked. Sometimes after the full moon, he refuses to go to Madam Pomfrey so I make him use dittany instead.” Sirius moves before James can respond, placing the bundle of herbs on the counter and pulling out some coins from his pocket, handing them to the witch behind the counter. She places the dittany in a bag and he takes it with a smile and a light thanks. He leaves without a backward glance and after a minute, James follows. 

He finds him out in the street. James shifts uncomfortably, staying a few feet away. This is so fucking awkward.

He clears his throat, looking anywhere but at the boy next to him. "Well." He pulls out the list, and when he talks it's more to himself than Sirius. “She says we need-”

Next to him, Sirius seems to snap.

“Fuck this. No.” Sirius shoves the bag of herbs in James’s arms and he takes it, startled. “I can’t fucking do this.”

He turns and is gone in a flash, walking off through the crowd faster than James can keep up. He does his best though, only allowing himself a moment of shock before going after him. “Sirius!”

Sirius doesn’t turn around, moving so quickly James has to run to try and keep up with him. “Sirius, stop!”

He turns down a side street and James follows, clutching the dittany. He and Sirius are fairly well matched athletically- but James has always been faster. He catches Sirius’s arm and the other boy swings around, glaring. 

“Stop.” James pants. “Fucking stay put.”

“Oh?” There’s something dark burning in Sirius’s eyes, and it disturbs James how much it reminds him of Regulus. “Now you want me to stay?”

“Sirius-”

“I can’t- I can’t do this, James. I can’t wait here in this fucking purgatory you’re keeping me in. You’ll talk to me, but only when necessary. You’ll look at me, but only when you think I won’t see. I’ve told you I’m sorry, and I’ll say it again if that's what you want. I’ll say it till bloody I die, Prongs. I’ll get it tattooed- muggle style. I just don’t know what you’re waiting for. Make up your mind.”

James takes a physical step back, staring at him. His hair shifts around his face, and not for the first time James notices the dark circles under his eyes. His voice comes out all choked, caught on something he wants so badly but can’t let himself have. “I have to be there for Remus.”

“So you can’t be there for me, then? You have to choose, James.” There are tears in his eyes, hesitating. Held back. 

“I- I’m so angry at you.”

Sirius shakes his head, laughing bitterly. “I promise you, I am a hundred times more angry at myself.” 

“You hurt him so badly, Sirius.”

“I tend to do that, it seems.”

James turns and paces up the alley a bit, relishing in the cool shadows of the tight walls. He tries to make sense of the broiling undesirable emotions swirling around inside him, and utterly fails. Eventually he turns back to Sirius, staring at him. Against the brick, he looks so small. 

“I fucking miss you, Pads.”

The tears finally slip over Sirius’s lashes, running down his cheeks. He brings a sleeve up to quickly wipe them away. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I did it.” His voice breaks and he sinks down the wall, knees to his chest. “I don’t know.” He tucks his face into his knees, wrapping himself in his arms. 

James crosses to him, kneeling down. His heart aches, like something inside it is desperately trying to get out. There’s something he needs to say before it can, though. Something important. Something he won’t let get lost.

“I don't understand.” 

Sirius’s shoulders shudder, and he lets out a pitiful sound. "I wasn't doing it to hurt Remus. I'd never hurt Remus. But- but I was so angry at my parents, at my brother, and then I ran into Snape, and remembered what he'd done to Lily, and... and all I wanted was for him to hurt." 

“I can't... be normal with you. I can’t. Not right now.” James runs his hands over Sirius’s shoulders, and it feels so good to finally show affection again. To help him feel better, like he was made to do. Sirius lifts his head, tear stained, and James pulls him in, holding him tight, tucking him into his arms. He ducks his head, whispering soft against his hair. “One day, I will.” 

Sirius finally breaks down, gripping James’s shirt as tightly as he can, burying his head in his neck. Sobbing. James squeezes his eyes shut, doing his best not to cry. He shoves down everything in him that’s telling him this is wrong, and holds his best friend tighter. 

He’s on the ground now too, knees pressing against cold cobblestone. His trousers are starting to grow damp from the lingering winter frost that hasn’t fully melted yet. Sirius’s breaths are warm against his cheek. “I’m sorry,” He hisses, and James knows it’s genuine. It always has been. “I’m sorry.” He’s skinny in James’s arms. “I’m so sorry.” 

James doesn’t even wonder what they look like, two boys curled into each other on the ground in a random side alley. “Sirius,” he whispers. He doesn’t tell him it’s ok, because it’s not, and it won’t be for a little while. 

“Thank you.”

James twists his head, not letting him go. “For what?”

“For not sending me back. For letting me stay, even if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” I could never hate you. “I wouldn’t make you go back there, Pads.”

“I wish I had the ability to trust that.” 

James nods. “Me too.” 

Sirius chuckles, bitter. “They ripped that out of me a long time ago, I think.” 

James pulls back, settling down against the wall across from him. They stare at each other across the divide, fully looking for the first time in weeks. 

“You said a while ago, back in the common room, that you’d hurt Regulus.” He shouldn’t ask. He knows he shouldn’t. But he has to- the question’s been crawling under his skin for days. And now that they're talking again... “What did you mean?”

Sirius shakes his head, tired. “I don’t know. I just- I realized I haven’t done as good a job protecting him as I’d thought.”

“How so?”

“Our mother’s an awful, awful, woman.”

James lets those words fester in his stomach, choosing finally to drop it. He’ll find out eventually, he decides. He always does when it comes to Reg’s secrets. “I’m sorry I gave you mixed signals.” 

“I really don’t think you’re the one that should be apologizing right now.”

James sighs. “Probably not.” He stands up slowly, reaching out a hand to help Sirius up. “We have to get through the rest of Mum’s list.”

“God. Alright.” The two of them step out of the side alley, the bright sunlight a harsh contrast to the shadows of the lane. They walk side to side, shoulders occasionally brushing. This time, James doesn’t move. Sirius glances at him sometimes, and James lets him look. They move in silence, but it’s not quite as cold this time. Sirius breaks it with a tentative smile.

“So what was that you said about seeing someone?”

---

 

Remus is waiting for James when they come back, settled on the couch. Sirius cuts off whatever sentence he was in the middle off, giving Remus a quick glance before leaving the room to set the groceries down. James crosses to the armchair, settling into it. He doesn’t meet Remus’s eyes, but he can feel them on him. 

“So you're talking now.”

“Um. Yeah. Yeah, we are. I guess. It’s weird. I haven’t forgiven him, though, don’t worry. I told him as much.” 

Remus presses his lips together. “It’s fine, James. Don’t arrange your life around mine.”

“But I just need you to know-”

“James. I don’t care.”

“...Alright.” he says finally, because he’s really at a loss. “You should talk. If you’re ready, of course.”

Remus says nothing, staring at the wall past James’s head. A muscle works in his jaw. 

James nods, sighing. “Yeah. I get it.” 

For once, he doesn’t press the point.

Notes:

Sorry this came so late! Hopefully the next one will be quicker. it's times like these I'm so glad I don't have a posting schedule

Also James and reg both eavesdropping in this chapter is so funny to me

Chapter 30: Find Me

Notes:

ohh this is a rough one writing wise. I had a vacation so I couldn't write for like 2 weeks and now i'm all off my game. Anyway. Enjoy

Regulus lets his head hit the wall behind him, exhaling softly. He watches as a curl of smoke escapes his parted lips and clouds the air in front of him. It swrils and drifts, punctured and backlit by the moonlight. It’s almost full. He wonders how Lupin’s feeling. 

Regulus watches through heavy lids as Pandora reaches out and takes the joint from his fingers. 

The five of them are sitting on the roof of the castle, leaning against the astronomy tower tourret. They’d found the tiny access stairway in fourth year and have yet to find a better spot to smoke. It’s cold, yes- but Barty’s cast a warming spell and no one really minds anyway. 

“I’m still confused why you didn’t have to see the Dark Lord,” Barty starts, voice puncturing the dark. It’s a bit off-kilter, drifty in a way that's unusual for Barty. 

“No need.” Regulus says eventually. “Or no time, I suppose.”

“Hm.” Pandora reaches her hand up, twisting it in a beam of moonlight. “I wonder…”

“Dora?”

“I wonder if we’re safe here.”

Evan blinks at her, drawing his knees up to his chest. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“The snow’s all melted,” Dorcas starts, looking confused. “The roof isn’t slippery anymore.”

Pandora shakes her head. “Hogwarts. I wonder if we’re safe at Hogwarts.”

Regulus, quietly, finds himself asking the same thing. He takes the joint back from Pandora, appreciating the comforting smell of weed. It reminds him of gentle nights, of the castle, of quiet moments all to themselves on slippery roofs. “I don’t think we are,” he mutters softly, half hoping it gets lost in the night. 

“Why not?” Evan asks again and Regulus hums.

“The Dark Lord wants Dumbledore, yeah? Narcissa says he’s the only wizard the Dark Lord fears.” 

Even in the dark, Regulus can see Evan furrow his brow. “He’d attack a school full of supporters for one man?” 

“He attacked Beauxbatons twice. Those aren’t the actions of a man afraid to hurt children.” There’s a tint of bitterness to Dorcas’s voice, one that makes Regulus feel slightly on edge. Careful, he wants to whisper. Hating him can do no good. 

“But…” Barty talks for the first time in a little while. “He wouldn’t attack us though, right?” 

Regulus realizes the question’s directed at him and after a moment he shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. It feels like that’s where this is headed.”

Pandora nods in agreement. “Beauxbatons, attacks on muggles, he’s amping up. If all he needs is Dumbledore out of the way… now’s the time.”

Evan leans forward, eyes calm. “He’d tell us though, right?” 

Barty hisses softly next to him. “I don’t care if he does or doesn’t. I’ll fight beside him either way.”

Pandora cocks her head. “You’d kill people?” There’s no judgment in her tone- just curiosity. 

Barty stares at her. “I would.”

“There’s no way back from that, you know.” Pandora leans back again, staring at the stars. “You can’t undo it.”

“I wouldn’t need to.”

Regulus feels something twist in his gut, remembering a potion laced with white powder. The soft spots on his fingers torn to shreds by his nails, his guilt literally skinning him. He says nothing, bringing the spliff to his lips and inhaling deeply. 

They got back from break a day ago, and Regulus still can’t fully get his thoughts in order. He can feel the lingering imprints of Bellatrix’s nails along the ridges of his mind. Pandora is the only one that seems to notice, but that’s probably because she's the only one that knows about Bellatrix’s training. Even so, she says nothing, letting him sort it out for himself. 

The weed can’t be helping

“How long do we have?” Dorcas asks. 

“Until he attacks? I don’t know.” Pandora points at the sky. “There’s you, Reg.” 

Regulus looks up, fixating on his star. He finds it instantly, of course. “Heart of the lion,” he murmurs softly. He can feel Pandora’s eyes on him. 

“Will the attack be this year? Next?” Barty gives Evan the joint the two of them are sharing. Dorcas has her own.

“Maybe both, who knows.” Pandora traces a spiral on the shingles of the roof. 

“What can we do?”

“Stay put.” Dorcas answers solemnly. “Stay out of the way. Unless you’re Barty, or Reg, of course. The rest of us, we’ll wait it out.”

“You guys really wouldn’t fight? If it came down to it?” Barty takes a slow drag.

Dorcas looks at him sadly, saying nothing. Evan responds first, looking at Barty as he speaks. “I… would.”

Pandora shakes her head. “I’d rather be in front of a wand than behind it.”

“Cowards.” Barty shakes his head, coughing into his fist. 

“Not cowards, Barty.” Dorcas glances at him sideways. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t care about blood supremacy. Pandora doesn’t either. The rest of you…”

“I’ll take the mark as soon as I can- shove it in my father’s face, too. Evan, you should as well. And Reg, I wouldn't be surprised if you don’t already have it.” Barty hands the joint back to Evan, and Regulus notices the way both boys flinch when their fingers brush. 

In leu of a response, Regulus just rolls up his sleeve, displaying his bare arm. Barty sighs, disappointed. “Soon, then.”

“You’re insane, Barty.” Dorcas shakes her head, and Barty grins. It’s sharp.

“‘Course I am.”

“You know you can’t, right? Shove the mark in your father’s face. That won’t work out well for you.”

“I don’t care what he does. He can fuck off.”

Regulus narrows his eyes at him. “Are you just doing this to piss him off? Do you care about the Dark Lord, or his plans?”

Barty raises a brow. “Do you?”

There’s a right answer, somewhere. “I care about what it means.” That was probably not it.

Barty runs a hand through his hair. “So blood supremacy? What it means for muggles?”

“What it means for myself.”

“Well then,” Barty sits back, looking satisfied. “We’re in the same boat.”

Dorcas glaces between them. “How?”

“We’re both in it for our parents.”

Regulus glares at him. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah? So if you quit now, they’d let you off free?”

Regulus says nothing, cold. Unfeeling. That doesn’t stop Barty. “You could pack your bags? Run away? You’re telling me if you wanted to, you could join your traitor brother?”

Regulus is standing before he can think, staring down at him. Nobody moves. The others are watching, but there’s not much he can do. Not much to say. He needs to be somewhere quieter; somewhere with less eyes. 

“I have to go,” He says. “I just remembered I have to do something.”

“”Course, Reg.” Dorcas nods and Barty just rolls his eyes.

“Have fun with your mission. Give me that before you go, yeah? No point in wasting it.” He nods to the joint between Regulus’s fingers.

Regulus deftly flicks it off the roof, flipping Barty off before climbing up and over the shingles to the doorway and the access staircase. He moves swiftly, not looking down. After sitting still for so long the sudden movement makes his head swirl, as if the weed randomly jumps up a notch. 

He needs to see James again, but he’s not sure he’s ready for that yet. It’s as if there’s an invisible taboo: Regulus tried so hard to bury James he’s tricked himself into avoiding the very thought of him. He just… he just needs a little more time.

So he goes somewhere else instead.

The cold of the Basilisks chamber is entirely different from the cold of Grimmauld Place. This chill is refreshing, comforting. The cold of Grimmauld Place is anything but. Regulus stands in the main chamber for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He’s still slightly high, but it’s fading quickly. He’s never been able to keep anything in his system for very long. 

He summons the Basilisk a little while later, casting the blinding curse as gently as he can. 

You’re back, she hisses. I told you you’d come back.

Yeah, yeah. How are you? 

Bored. The Basilisk does another turn around the chamber. I have no one to talk to when you’re gone.

What about the rats? 

They make much better food than conversation.

Ah. Regulus settles down, shifting to get comfortable on the stony ground. What do you do then, when I’m not here ? 

Sleep. Think. Not that there’s much to think about. She pauses. You smell like… smoke. A plant? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve smelled that before. 

Regulus tips his head back, laughing. Weed. I smell like weed.

Which one? 

Regulus shakes his head, still smiling. It’s a muggle thing. It makes you feel funny. We smoke it because it feels good.

Do you still feel funny? You’re acting funny.

Regulus shrugs. A little, probably. 

How was your break? 

The smile slowly slips off Regulus’s face. …Productive. 

You’re scared again. Still. I thought- The Basilisk cuts itself off, slithering closer. I thought you were scared of going home.

Regulus swallows, setting his face. I’m fine. 

But now I think it’s something else. The Basilisk’s tongue flickers out. 

Why do we always have to have such serious conversations?

What else is there to talk about? 

Regulus shakes his head, standing up. The Basilisk follows close behind as he finds his way to Slytherin’s room. He hissed the word and the door opens, letting him in. He’s nearly read through all of Slytherins letters, but not quite. He pulls a new one out of the stack. 

 

Godric, 

I apologize for not speaking to you in person. I felt this intentional separation would be good for us- considering our opposing views and the upcoming decision to be made. I wish things were different. I wish I was different. Regardless, you should visit sometime. I may be too proud to change my mind, but not too proud to admit I do miss your company. Saskia misses you too. She asks about you every day. I did mean it when I said I couldn’t associate with you anymore. That won’t change. But there are things we need to discuss in person, and for that, I suppose I must see you. Meet me in the Chamber tomorrow? 

Regards,

Salazar

 

Regulus closes the letter, biting his cheek. Carefully he takes a seat on Slytherins bed, letter tucked neatly in his lap. The Basilisk hisses softly. What did that one say? 

It was just… sad, Regulus muses. Did your master and Gryfindor stop seeing each other before he left Hogwarts? 

Hm. The Basilisk’s lip curls up, as if it’s not something she wants to think about. I suppose. He stopped coming by, after a while. 

Regulus nods. Who’s Saskia? 

At that, the Basilisk flinches. It’s slight, barely noticeable, but there. She ducks her head. That’s what my master used to call me. 

Regulus freezes. What?

It was a… name, of sorts. Saskia. 

The Basilisk had a name? Regulus sits back, staring at her. I should’ve asked, he says eventually. If you had a name. That was selfish. 

The Basilisk shakes her head. The boy- the other boy- he asked my name. I didn’t give it to him. I don’t know if I would’ve given it to you. 

Why not? 

A name is an important thing, Little Prince. It determines who you are, and when you give it to others, it determines who you’ll be to them too. 

Regulus considers. So because you didn’t give your name to the boy, who were you to him ? 

In lue of an answer the Basilisk twists her head, showing him the scar. When she speaks, it comes out as a low hum. Nothing. 

Regulus takes a shuddering breath, resisting the urge to comfort her. That would just make things harder for himself later. His name was Tom Riddle, right? 

The Basilisk only hesitates a second before answering. That sounds familiar, yes. 

He’s Lord Voldemort, by the way. Do you remember me telling you about him?

The Basilisk pauses, twisting her head to face him. I never forget anything. He’s- you’re sure? 

Yeah. 

The Basilisk says nothing, sinking into herself slightly.

Regulus frowns, uncomfortable with the pity brewing in his stomach. Should I call you that then? 

The Basilisk flicks her tongue. If you want. When you want. 

What does it mean? 

Saskia? 

Yeah. 

The Basilisk hisses and it almost sounds like a hum. Savior. 

Regulus raises his eyebrows. He named you ‘Savior’? 

I was supposed to save the wizarding race, one death at a time. The Basilisk shakes her head in a disturbingly human-like gesture.

Oh. 

It’s alright, Little Prince. I don’t need your pity. There’s still time. 

Regulus looks up. You’re still going to- I mean you haven’t given up? On your… mission?

I am still my master’s savior. It seems my boy has grown into his power. Despite the fact that I despise him, perhaps I will follow in his steps one day. She pauses for a moment. Perhaps you will too.  

Regulus shifts uncomfortably. You’d- you’d be alright if I called you… that? 

Like I said- only when you want to. When you feel you need to. I get the sense names held more power in my time than they do in yours. 

Regulus stands up, covering his yawn with a hand. The weed has long since worn off and he’s left tired and slightly groggy. I’ll think about it. I need to go to bed. 

Don’t think you’ve gotten out of this, Little Prince. We’ll talk more next time you visit.

About what?

What you’re so scared of. 

Regulus just shakes his head, moving past the Basilisk and into the chamber. I’ll see you later, Savior. 

The Basilisk makes a soft sound from behind him. That’s not the only thing my name means, you know. 

Regulus pauses, turning to look at her. Yeah? What else?

She hisses, turning her head to the side. For the first time in a long time, Regulus feels a thrill of fear shoot through him. 

Knife. 

 

---

 

James hasn’t seen Regulus yet. Not really. Aside from quick glances across the Great Hall or blindly passing in the corridors, they haven’t actually met since they got back. Granted, it’s not been very long, only two days-  but still. It’s the principle of the matter. Regulus promised he’d find him as soon as they got to school and now… well. 

If he won’t come to James, James will just have to go to him. 

He slips on the invisibility cloak in the middle of the night on their second day of no contact. He grabs the map and makes his way down to the dungeons, trying to keep quiet but failing miserably. The portraits hiss at him as he passes despite not being able to see him. The paintings have always been able to sense his presence, even when he’s under the cloak. 

Once he comes to the door he realizes, stupidly, that he doesn’t know the password. He stares blankly at the knob, considering his next move. Before he attempts to charm the door open, a portrait behind him speaks up. 

“Who’s there?”

James starts and turns to see a cranky old man glaring at him from behind a pair of glasses. James swallows and lowers the cloak, revealing just his head. “Um- hello. Do you know the password? I’ve forgotten it.”

“Where’d you come from? You aren’t a Slytherin.”

“I could be!” 

“Not in a million years, boy. Why are you invisible? Why are you trying to break in? Should I call for the headmaster?”

“No! No. There’s no need. I- er- need to see someone inside.”

“A secret rendezvous, then?” The man looks gleeful, setting down the newspaper he’s perpetually holding. 

James rubs the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“A young Slytherin girl caught your fancy?” The old man hums. “I do love a forbidden love story.”

“Right. Exactly. So could you please tell me the passcode so I can get in and see …her?”

“Mm. I don’t know. It’s rather exciting watching you struggle.”

“Please? I just need to know that she’s ok. I haven’t seen her since break.” 

The old man squints at James, lips twisted. “Hm.”

“I’ll just leave if you don’t. That’d be much more boring, wouldn’t it?”

The old man sighs, grumbling about students and their drama. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m so deprived of entertainment. Passwords’s ‘emerald’. But you better tell me about it when you get back.” 

James grins and winks, thanking him and turning back to the door. “Emerald,” he whispers, and as it slides open he pulls the cloak back over his head. 

Slytherin’s common room is dark and gloomy, nothing like the warm comfort of Gryfindor tower. The fire in the hearth has been reduced to glowing embers, burning low. The furniture is much less plushy - all smooth velvet armchairs and perfectly stuffed couches and settees. James shivers in the cold. 

He finds the dorm fairly easily, opening the door as softly as possible. Crouch and Evan are curled up in their respective beds, drapings wide open. Regulus (or at least who James assumes is Regulus) has his curtains firmly closed. 

He steps in softly, staring at his sleeping form. Regulus’s eyelids are dark against his pale cheeks, lips gently parted. His dark curls spill out around his head on the white pillow, the contrast nearly taking James’s breath away. He looks gentle; peaceful. So unbelievably soft. 

James resists the urge to crawl right into bed next to him, deciding that’d be a touch too creepy. 

Instead he pulls the cloak off his head, keeping it wrapped around his shoulders. He leans down and gently touches Regulus’s shoulder, whispering his name softly. Before he can move, Regulus’s eyes fly open and he’s sitting up in bed, wand seemingly materializing in his hand and pointing directly at James. 

James stares at him with wide eyes, taking a step back. “Woah, Reg. Love. It’s just me. It’s ok.”

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t drop his wand. “James.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. Can you put the wand down?” 

Regulus hesitantly lowers his hand, still watching James carefully. “What- how did you get in? Why are you here? You can’t be here.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, throwing off his bed covers and standing up. Without looking back he quickly exits the dorm and makes his way down the stairs. After a moment of standing there dumbly, James follows.

He locates Regulus in the common room, waiting for him with crossed arms. James finds it a little difficult to take his somber expression seriously when he’s in pajama pants and his usually perfect hair is just slightly mussed. 

“James. You have to leave.” 

“You said you’d find me.”

“What?”

“You said you’d find me as soon as possible when you came back. You haven’t.”

“I’ve been busy.”

James scoffs. “Too busy to just pop by and say ‘hi James, yes, I’m alright, how are you’?” 

Regulus stays quiet, glaring. James sighs. “I just- I just want to know you’re ok.”

“You can’t just show up in my common room. How did you even get in?”

“The old man in the portrait told me the password.”

Regulus lets out a breath, shaking his head. “Fucking Albert. He keeps doing that.”

“Well. I happen to like Albert. He was very helpful.”

“James.”

James sighs. “Please, Reg. Why didn’t you find me?”

Regulus shakes his head, gripping his arms tighter. James takes a step forward. “Did they hurt you?”

Regulus glances up quickly, eyes burning. “What does it look like?”

But that’s not fair, and James lets out a bitter laugh. “We both know ‘what it looks like’ doesn’t really apply when it comes to you.” 

Regulus ducks his head down. “I’m fine.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?”

Regulus frowns, and James really doesn’t like that look. But then hesitantly, almost unwillingly, Regulus takes a step forward. And then another. And then he’s right in front of James, and they’re staring at each other, grey on brown. Something flickers in Regulus’s expression and he ducks forward, wrapping his arms around James’s torso. He buries his face in the junction between James’s neck and shoulders, taking a deep breath that James can feel against his skin. 

For a moment, James doesn’t know what to do. Regulus never approaches him first, much less actually hugs him. But he’s warm and small and this is all James has wanted and been denied the past two weeks, so he hugs him back. Warm large arms wrap around Regulus’s body, pulling him in harder. 

It feels good- too good to be safe. Too good to be secure. Something this precarious shouldn’t be so easy, but that doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t. Because James Potter has never much cared for his own safety, only others’. Only Regulus’. And here, with him in his arms, it’s the closest he can come to ensuring it. 

“How are you?” He whispers into Regulus’s hair.

Regulus makes a small sound into his neck. “Tired.”

“I’m sorry I woke you. I had to see you.” Carefully, he guides them until the back of his legs hit the green velvet sofa. Regulus pulls back, carefully extracting himself from James’s arms and settling on one end of the couch. He draws his knees to his chest, staring at the ground. After a moment James sits next to him, resting his head on the pillow. Watching. 

“Regulus-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

“That’s alright. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” 

Regulus lets out a soft sigh. “Yeah.”

“What’d you do? Over break?”

Regulus’s eyes darken slightly, brows pulling together. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“I- read, some.”

“Reg.”

“I learned occlumency. Or, how to actually do it right.”

James lets out a breath. “Oh.” He knows what Walburga does. Sirius told him enough. Sometimes he’d come back after a break looking especially hollow and empty, and James would know his mind was still trying to sort itself out after whatever his mother did to it. Legilimency was a common skill in the Black household, and one utilized often. But if Regulus was learning how to fight it…

“That’s good. That’s really good. Right?”

“...Yes. It will be.”

“Was it hard?” James wants to reach out and touch Regulus again, but he looks too fragile right now. Too small. 

Regulus lets out a low bitter huff of laughter. “It was necessary.”

“Right. I don’t know why you Blacks are so smart.” James looks up to find Regulus’s eyes already on him, piercing and perfect.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“...Yeah?”

And when Regulus speaks, it’s not in a language James recognizes. It’s a soft hiss that seems to slip from him easier than a breath, almost a sigh. It sounds old. Dark. Something straight out of Eden. James goes still, every muscle in his body freezing.

That wasn’t Regulus. That didn’t sound like Regulus. He can’t move. It takes him a minute to find his voice.

“What- was that Parseltounge?”

Regulus, ever cool, just nods. James shakes his head, trying to calm himself down. “You’re a parselmouth? Why- what-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Reg-”

“I just wanted to wait.”

James keeps shaking his head left and right, as if that’ll make the situation make sense. He can feel his heart, echoing his confusion with every pounding beat. “How long have you been able to do that?”

Regulus shrugs. “Since I was a kid.”

Oh.

“Sirius knows?”

“Yes.” Regulus looks down. “So does Lupin, actually.”

“What?”

“He found out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“Bullshit.”

Regulus just crosses his arms over his knees, piercing James with that same cold stare. “I’m telling you now.”

James rubs his eyes, trying to sort out the emotions churning inside him. “So- you’re related to Salazar Slytherin?”

“I don't know.”

“Jesus, Reg. I don’t know why Sirius ever thought you’d be a Gryfindor when you first came to school.”

Regulus shuts down a bit, sinking further back. “He’s wrong about a lot of things.”

“Can you say something else?”

Regulus obliges, letting out another complicated hiss. The words almost make him look older, deepening the shadows already clinging to his pale face. He looks powerful, James realizes. Powerful and cold. It was terrifying, slightly, and beautiful. A fallen angel with the voice of a snake. 

“How does your mother feel about that?”

“She doesn’t like it. She can’t understand it, which means she can’t control it, and she doesn’t like things she can't control. But… it comes in handy.”

“How so?”

Regulus grimaces, averting his eyes. “The Dark Lord is a parseltongue, James. And a Slytherin. Don’t you think he’d find the same traits admirable in someone else?”

And, well, doesn’t that just hit like a punch to the gut. “I- I thought you just said you’ve talked to him before, not that you-”

“Not that I know him? Not that I see him regularly?” Regulus shakes his head, rueful. “I’m the Black heir. You really think they’d let me hide in the background?” 

James lets out a small groan, tipping his face into his hands. “And you let him?”

“Let him what?”

“Know you? Be near you?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Jesus, Reg, anything! I get it if it’s just your parents but it’s Voldemort. He, what, trains you? Builds you up to be a good little Death Eater? And you say nothing. You do nothing.”

“You don’t know-”

“I know I would never sit by and let him manipulate me.”

“Who says he’s manipulating me?”

James shakes his head, burning with anger. “So you’re going on with him willingly? That’s so much fucking worse.”

“You have no idea-” Regulus cuts himself off, standing up quickly. He runs a hand through his hair and walks to the other side of the room, shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. For a moment both of them stay quiet. 

When Regulus finally turns to face him, his eyes are narrowed into slits. “You’re wrong, you know. I don’t do nothing. I do this.” He gestures angrily between him and James. “I let you in, let you past my defenses, let you talk and hold and kiss me. Let you make me feel so-” Regulus lets out a frustrated huff. “And then I go back to that house, and I have to hide all of it. Everything. Since first year, James. I’ve been shoving you down since my first year. That’s my rebellion. That’s what I do.”

James feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. He doesn’t know what to say, just keeps staring at him from the couch. 

Regulus shakes his head. “Forget it. Go to bed. You shouldn't have come.” He starts to turn and walk out when James finally finds his words, rising quickly.

“Since first year?”

Regulus freezes, turning back to him slowly. His face is still cold, angry, but there's a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter.”

James crosses to him, still reeling. “You’ve liked me since first year.” 

Regulus frowns, brows pinching together. “That isn’t what you were supposed to take from that.”

James pulls him in and he stumbles, albeit somewhat reluctantly, a little closer. “Since first year, and you never told me?”

“I don’t tell you a lot of things.”

“Evidently.”

James kisses him soft and long, only pulling away when absolutely necessary. He tucks a curl behind Regulus’s ear and studies his face, thinking. “It’s interesting, though, that you used our relationship to make your point instead of what you’ve done for my father. Which, actually, could be argued is a direct attack against Voldemort since Dad’s a prominent figure on the opposite side.” 

Regulus shakes his head lightly, letting out a soft puff of air that James can feel on his lips. “‘This feels like more of a betrayal, somehow.” 

“Mm.” 

Regulus pushes his chest. “I meant what I said. You need to leave. The others are still asleep.”

“I haven’t seen you for two weeks, you drop all this on me, then you want me to go?”

“Yes.”

James takes a step back. “Fine. But Regulus- you can’t avoid me. I’m serious. And you have to sleep.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I was working on that.”

“This wouldn’t have been necessary if-”

“Yes, I know. If I’d come and found you. Noted.”

“Mm.” James takes one last look, drinking in the sight of him. “You’re ok?”

Regulus offers him the slightest of smiles, and it feels like ten times the victory it actually is. “I’m okay, James.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.” With that Regulus turns, disappearing up the staircase. James watches him go, slightly hesitant to let him out of his sight again. He does, though, because as much as he'd like to, he can’t very well follow him to bed. 

When he leaves, the painting- Albert- calls out to him at the entrance. “How’d it go, invisible boy?”

“I- I’m not sure, to be totally honest.”

“That wasn’t what I was promised. Where’s my drama? Where’s my intrigue?”

James just winks. “Thanks for the password.”

Albert starts to say something else but James pulls on the cloak before he can finish, turning and walking away.  

When he gets back to bed he lays on his back and stares at the ceiling. He already knows he won't be able to sleep, and he ran out of Regulus’s potions a week ago. 

 

---

 

“Are the OWLs really next week?”

Remus sighs, tipping his head up to look at the sky. “Yeah, Pete. What have you been studying for the past month?”

“Not my OWLs.”

“Merlin.”

Remus slumps down on the grass, leaning back. It’s a sunny day so the courtyard is slightly more crowded than usual. Peter has his papers out spread across his lap, pouring over them with a furrowed brow. Regulus and his friends are on the other side, leaning against the stone wall. The younger Black has his face buried in a book. 

“Ugh. It’s too bright out.”

Remus blinks up at a disgruntled James, standing over them with his arms crossed. “Found us, did you?”

“You forget we can find literally anyone if we want to, Moony.”

Peter looks up eagerly. “Sirius! Have you started studying for your OWLs?”

Remus straightens, almost instinctively. For the first time he notices Sirius, lurking slightly behind James. His gut tightens, though he manages to stay silent. He told James and Peter it was fine. He gave them his permission. So there’s really no reason to feel a sting of resentment when Peter blinks hopefully up at him. And yet-

“Er- yeah, Pete. Have you not?”

Peter groans, throwing himself onto his back. “No!” 

“Oh. Right. Well.” Sirius takes a seat next to Pete, opening one of the books. They dissolve into quiet conversation about arithmetic as James takes a seat next to Remus. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Full moon soon.”

“Yeah.”

They fall silent again. Remus glances over at James, surprised to see his gaze locked on the group of Slytherins across the courtyard. He watches as his normally relaxed expression tightens into something a little more unfamiliar. “You alright?”

“What? Oh- yeah.” James’s eyes don’t move from their target. 

“Hm.” Remus tilts his head. “They aren’t bothering anyone, you know.”

“I know.”

“Right.”

Something dark and concerning scratches at the back of Remus’s mind. James said the person he was seeing was a Slytherin, which narrows down his options considerably and makes any Slytherin boy a potential candidate. And the way he’s staring at the group across the lawn… Remus grits his teeth. “James-”

“When's lunch?”

Remus blinks, taken aback. “Um, not for another two periods. Think you can wait that long?”

“Ugh. Why do they insist on feeding us so late?”

“Maybe because not all of us need an insane amount of food just to get through the day.”

“I refuse to believe I am the abnormal one here.”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry. You and Pete are in the same boat.”

At the sound of his name Peter looks up, pausing mid sentence. Behind him, Sirius follows suit. Instantly, their eyes lock, and something not unfamiliar runs through Remus- a flash of emotion he’s been trying and failing to ignore for at least 3 years. 

Sirius looks away first. 

“Wormtail, do you think they should feed us more?” James starts, leaning forward.

Peter throws up his hands. “That's what I’ve been saying. They’re starving us.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “It’s literally an all you can eat situation. The food never stops.”

“Not really. We only have access to it for such a short time it hardly counts.”

“Go back to studying, Pete.”

“Fine.” Peter groans, picking up his paper again. 

James sighs, leaning back on his elbows. “It really is a nice day out.”

Remus shakes his head, unresponsive. He watches James' fingers dig into the soft grass. “How’s your father?”

“...Good. Whatever the doctors are giving him is slowing down the disease, so if nothing else he’s not getting worse.”

“Oh. That’s good.” 

“Well-”

A shout rings out across the courtyard and all four of them snap their heads up at the same time. It takes Remus a minute to find the source of the noise, but the second he does he’s on his feet. 

Crouch has a 3rd year up against the wall, wand under his chin. Rosier’s next to him, smirking slightly. Regulus looks as passive as ever, watching with crossed arms. The 3rd year looks terrified. 

“Oh, fuck that.” Sirius is moving before any of them can react, crossing the courtyard quickly. James starts after him instantly, Peter and Remus following a second later. 

“Crouch!” Sirius stalks towards him. “Put him down. What are you doing?”

“Stay out of this, Black. Doesn’t concern you.”

Remus pulls up next to James, Peter just a bit behind him. Sirius takes another step. “What’d he do?”

“Hit me with a spell, that’s what. Doesn’t fucking matter to you though, does it?” 

The 3rd year whimpers. “I didn’t mean to! We were practicing spells and my wand misfired. I’m sorry!”

“Course it did. Mudbloods never can aim right, can they?”

James and Remus have their wands out in a second, ready and waiting. Regulus takes a step forward. “Barty, let him down. It’s fine.”

“Reg-”

“Listen to Regulus, Crouch. For once he has an ounce of sense.” Sirius keeps moving forward, wand in hand. Remus swallows, throat suddenly tight. 

“Please!” The 3rd year grabs at Barty’s arm, who growls in disgust. 

“Get your hands off me.” He shoves him harder against the wall before dropping him and stepping back entirely. The 3rd year mumbles something and runs away, ducking between Remus and Peter to get out. 

“Good choice.” Sirius keeps his wand raised, eyes sharp. 

“Oh, now you’re making me regret it.”

“Why don’t you fucking keep to yourself, Crouch?” James says, unmoving.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Bullying 3rd year muggle-borns? What would your father say?”

Rosier takes a step forward, a low growl coming from somewhere deep in his throat. There’s a dangerous glint in Barty’s eye. “You want to talk about fathers, Potter? I hear yours can hardly get out of bed these days.” 

Shit.

James is the first to move. He lunges, wand raised. Barty grins, cackling. Before Remus can blink Regulus shoves himself forward, seemingly teleporting between Crouch and James. “Expelliarmus.” 

James’s wand goes flying just as Regulus turns and shoves Barty back, hissing. “We don’t have time for a bloody schoolyard scrap right now. What were you thinking?”

Barty locks eyes with Regulus. “I’m thinking he’s a fucking pureblood traitor who freely associates with mudblood scum. Why the fuck are you protecting him?”

Regulus grabs his wrist. “I’m not. I’m doing this for you. Just because you’re blood thirsty doesn’t mean you need to go after the first thing that moves. Be patient, for once.”

“He insulted my father-”

“-and you insulted his. You’re even now, yeah? So stop being an idiot and put the wand away.”

Glaring but silent, Crouch hesitantly lowers his wand. Next to Remus, James lets out a tense breath. 

“Come on, Reg.” Rosier says imploringly. “There was no reason-”

“There’s no reason for an unnecessary detention.” Regulus cuts him off, glaring. 

“Thanks,” Remus murmurs, tucking his wand away. 

“Don’t thank me. Not yet.” 

With no warning James turns on his heels and walks away, shoulders stiff and movements hurried. He grabs his wand on his way out. Remus furrows his brow in confusion, wondering if he should go after him. He decides against it. When he turns back, Regulus is watching him go, a hand coming up to subconsciously rub his left shoulder. 

Next to him, Remus hears a sharp intake of breath. He glances over at Sirius and… pauses. Sirius’s eyes are locked on Regulus’s hand, entire body stock still. He takes a jolting step back and instinctually Remus moves forward, just slightly. Because the look on Sirius’s face is nothing short of terrified, his lips parting as he lets out a small gasp.

Sirius is gone in the next second, nearly tripping over himself in his attempt to escape. Remus and Peter exchange a look before they’re off too, leaving the Slytherins in the dust.

“Go find James. Just ask him why he left.” Remus mutters, not looking at Peter.

“Remus-”

“I know.”

“One of us has to go get Sirius.”

“I know.”

Peter opens his mouth to say something else, before seemingly thinking better of it and shutting it firmly. He nods. “What the fuck just happened?”

Remus sighs. “I have no idea.”

Peter just shakes his head and stalks away. Remus stops walking, looking back up at the sky. It’s fine, he tells himself. It’ll be fine.

With that, he takes a deep breath and goes after Sirius. 

Notes:

regulus single handedly destroying both James and his brother's mental health

Chapter 31: Secrets

Remus follows Sirius out of the courtyard and down the hall. He can see the tension in Sirius’s steps, the way his hand twitches at his side as he moves quickly through the corridors. He ducks into a classroom, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Remus pauses outside, resting his forehead against the cool wood. He allows himself thirty seconds. Just thirty. Any more and he won’t go in at all. He counts slowly in his head, timing each number with a breath. When he’s done he reaches down and finds the handle, turning it and pushing in. 

Sirius is sitting in an empty desk, head buried in his hands. Waterfalls of black hair fall through his fingers, shielding his face. Remus shuts the door carefully, locking it with a quiet flick of his wand. “Sirius.”

At his name Sirius’s head shoots up, eyes instantly meeting Remus’s. They’re sparkling and glassy, piercing right through Remus’s fragile resolve. “Moony?”

“What happened out there?”

“Are you… talking to me?”

Remus says nothing, narrowing his eyes and pressing his lips together. Sirius swallows, looking down. “It doesn’t matter. I… just had a realization. And sort of freaked out.”

“What realization?”

Sirius lets out a choked little sound, running a hand through his hair. “Regulus- he’s always done that. With his shoulder. Ever since he was a kid." He cuts himself off, shaking his head. After a moment, he keeps going. “I thought it was just something he did without thinking but- now I- god.” He chokes on the rest of his words.

Remus stares at him, entirely confused. What was Regulus doing when Sirius ran off? He tries to remember, and can’t. 

“What are you talking about?”

Sirius looks up, miserable. “Regulus. He rubs his shoulder when he’s stressed. Because- Because it hurts him. And I didn’t know why he did it but now I do and I just realized so...” 

Remus slips into a chair, spinning it to face him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why did you run off?” He can’t stop staring, absorbing every detail of Sirius’s grief stricken face.

“I couldn’t be there anymore. I’m sorry.”

Remus clenches his jaw. “Stop apologizing.”

“I will once you start believing me.”

Their eyes lock and Remus gets the sense they aren’t talking about the courtyard anymore. “Sirius-”

“I know.”

“I can’t trust you. You know that, right? I can’t trust you when you say that.”

“I know.”

“Snape still won't look at me. He practically runs away when I enter the room.” Remus fights the urge to grab Sirius’s chin, yank it up and force him to meet his eyes. He grips his knees under the table instead. “He’s afraid of me. You all are.” 

Sirius bites his lip. “I’m not. I never was.” 

Remus scoffs. “But you were, Sirius. You were. Otherwise you wouldn’t have told Snape. You knew what I was capable of and used that against me.” 

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did.”

A tear slips out of Sirius's eye, tracing its way down his cheek. Remus ignores it. Ignores him. Ignores how pretty he looks when he cries.  “I woke up and thought I had hurt James again, because he was covered in blood. And then I woke up a second time just to find out I had hurt someone- and would’ve killed him too, if Prongs and Wormtail weren't there.”

“You didn’t. You wouldn't've.”

“But I thought I did,” Remus whispers, voice breaking. “I woke up and saw Snape in that bed, and my first thought was that they were right . Everyone who discovered who I am— what I am—and was scared? They were all right.”

Sirius blinks up at him, and it’s so fucking distracting. “You’re not a killer, Moony.” 

“You nearly made me one.” Remus shakes his head. He can feel the maggots crawling over and under his skin, infesting it with a familiar self loathing. “No one’s ever made me hate myself quite the way you have.”

Sirius makes a small sound. “Don’t say that. Please-” 

Remus swipes furiously at his eyes. “What? Am I not supposed to tell the truth? You’re the liar, Sirius, not me.”

“What can I do? What can I say?” Sirius sits forward, eyes wild. There's a desperation behind his voice Remus isn’t expecting. “Do you need to hit me? Hurt me like I hurt you? Do it.” 

“What?”

“Hit me, Remus. Or curse me. Or something. Do it. I can take it, I promise.” Sirius looks frantic, the need to be punished bleeding off him in desperate waves. 

Remus’s thoughts stall, staring at him. “Sirius-”

“Show me how angry you are. Show me. Make me feel it.”

Sirius’s hand comes up to run through his hair again and Remus catches his arm, holding him still. “Sirius. Stop.”

“Remus, please-”

“I’m not her, Sirius. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“If you need to, you can.”

Remus smiles sadly. “No, I can’t.”

That seems to be Sirius’s breaking point. He bends forward across the desk. “I’m so fucking sorry Remus. I’m so sorry.”

And for once, Remus finds himself believing him. He can’t make himself let go of his arm. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m was so mad, Sirius.”

“You deserve to be. I’ve never fucked up this bad. I’m so fucking sorry. I just wanted Snape to hurt. He'd said that about Lily, and then my parents showed up, and then I ran into him and just thought... just thought he needed to hurt.” Another tear drips off Sirius’s chin, landing on the desk. “How- how can I fix this?”

“It has to come from me. I have to actively try to forgive you.”

Sirius tilts his head, lips pink and cheeks flushed. His hair falls in messy waves, framing his face. Remus wants to run his hands through it. Sirius’s eyes glitter slightly, unshed tears still clinging onto his lower lashes. “Will you?”

Remus blinks, trying to force himself to focus. “Will I what?”

“Try to forgive me?”

Remus stares at him, long and hard. There’s so much there- so much hate, so much anger, so much love. He doesn’t know what to do with all the things he feels for Sirius- will always feel for Sirius. Somethings are inescapable, and Sirius fucking Black seems to be one of them. 

Another oddly frightening thought occurs to him. If he doesn’t forgive Sirius, if he keeps up this streak of anger and hatred, wouldn’t that make him a monster as well? Wouldn’t that just play into his worst fear? 

Wouldn’t that prove them right?

And really, that’s all he needs. When Remus finally chooses, it’s not for James. It’s not for Sirius. It’s not for the Marauders. In the end, he makes the choice for no one but himself. 

“Yeah.”

---

 

When James opens the door to the come and go room, Regulus is already at the table. He has his back turned, head bent over whatever he’s working on. James closes the door with a quiet click. 

Regulus looks up, eyes softening slightly. “James.”

“Hi.”

“You’re here.”

James frowns, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought- after all that yesterday, in the courtyard-”

James bites his lip. “You stopped him, Reg. Whatever he was about to do, you stopped him. It was hot, honestly.”

Regulus looks down, expression tightening. “You left.”

“I had to. I was… angry.” James remembers the twisting coil of frustration that had curled around his gut, confusing and overwhelming. Not at Crouch or Rosier, but at all of it. The whole situation. “I hate this war.” James shakes his head, snorting. “Obviously. We all do. I don’t know. It’s just becoming more and more clear that it’s affecting us too, not just our parents.”

Regulus sets down the bundle of herbs he’s holding. “Did you think it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“You thought we weren’t involved? That kids our age wouldn’t be brought into it?” 

James looks away. “No. No, that isn’t what I thought. I was just… I was in denial, I guess.”

Regulus smiles, soft. “Of course you were.” He runs a hand over his face and looks back at the table. "So. About the potion."

"Yeah?"

“Your father’s system is resisting the pox, but he’s still growing weaker. Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So. To put it bluntly, this one will block his magic, but save his body.”

Something in James’s chest sinks. “No, Regulus-”

“It’s the only way, James.”

“I told you. We can’t lose his magic. He’s too powerful.”

Regulus shakes his head. “He was too powerful. He’s stuck in bed, James. I know it hurts. I understand. But he may never get back the magic he’s already lost, so there’s no point in letting his body further deteriorate.”

If it was Barty, James would’ve punched him by now. But this is Reg, and he knows he’s being sincere. “His magic is who he is.”

“That’s not true. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard you talk.” Regulus’s brows pinch. “I’ve heard Sirius talk. I know he’s more than that. It’s a miracle we’re even making progress, James. It’s a miracle the cures we’ve made so far are actually working. We can’t lose that.”

James takes a deep shuddering breath, trying to focus on what’s really important. Which, at the end of the day, is his father. “I’m sorry.”

Regulus shakes his head, looking down. “No. I’m sorry. This situation- this entire situation- it’s awful. It’s not a choice you should have to make.”

“I don’t, luckily.” James lets out a tense little laugh. “He’s the one that’s going to decide. We just have to hope he makes the right one.”

“Hm.” Regulus looks back to the cauldron, curls falling into his eyes. James nearly whimpers at the sight. “We can wait for a while. It needs something else, and I’m not sure what yet. Which means we have a second.”

“What do you wanna do?”

"Well. Whatever, really. Actually, if I have some extra time I should go-" He cuts himself off, looking away. 

"Go where?"

"Nowhere."

James raises a brow, smirking. "Nowhere being wherever you go on the second floor?"

Regulus opens his mouth, evidently about to shut him down, before pausing. "You... you've stopped asking about that."

"We all have our secrets. I understand."

Regulus frowns. "So you aren't curious?"

"Oh no, I absolutely am." James shrugs. "But oh well. I'm sure you'll tell me someday. Or I'll find out."

Regulus goes quiet for a long moment, seemingly considering. “Can-” Regulus takes a deep breath, like he’s steadying himself. “Can I show you something then? I’ve wanted to for a while.”

James tilts his head, skeptical. “Last time you said something like that, I found out you could talk to snakes.”

Regulus looks away uncomfortably. “...It’s not entirely unrelated.”

Apprehensive, James nods. “Ok, then.”

“Right. I- um. Yeah. Ok. Come with me.”

He’s nervous, James realizes. Really nervous. “Reg?”

“I just need to...” Regulus turns at the door, looking back at James. He looks indecisive for a moment before making up his mind and moving forward. He finds him quickly, reaching up to cup his face and gently pull him down, lips crashing together. After a stunned moment, James reciprocates with fervor. He’d almost forgotten how much he missed this. Needed this. James' hands instinctively move to hold his waist, deepening the kiss. Then Regulus is spinning them so James’s pressing him against the wall, his hand moving up to run through James’ hair. James can feel his thoughts melting away, losing himself entirely to Regulus. To his tongue. His lips. Him. 

Regulus’s tongue flicks out, darting across James’s bottom lip. “James.”

“Love?” He doesn’t give Regulus a chance to answer, pulling him tighter. His hands are wandering, he’s well aware, but Regulus is so warm and gentle against him. His fingers creep up under Regulus’s shirt, finding cool skin. 

“James. We can’t.” Regulus doesn’t stop.

“You started it.” James complains, squeezing his waist. 

“I know. I’m sorry. We’ve got to go.” Slowly, reluctantly, Regulus pulls back. James separates too, staring down at him. He looks angelic.

"What was that for?"

"I just..." Regulus looks away. "I need you to trust me. And I need you to... I'm just..."

"Whatever you want to tell me will be fine, Regulus. I won't be mad."

"I'm- I'm only showing you because..." He trails off, shifting on his feet. James arches a brow. 

"Because?"

"Because you deserve to know, I guess. And I want to tell someone, and you're the least likely to hate me for it, so..."

"You're mildly freaking me out here." 

"Sorry." Regulus takes a breath. "It's fine. It'll be fine. She won't do anything."

"She?"

"It's going to be a little unsettling, but I need you to trust me."

“Fine.” James takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Ok. Well. If you don’t want that to start back up again I suggest you get to showing me whatever it is you want to show me.”

“Right.” Regulus blinks at him a few times before pushing himself off the wall and walking to the door. “Come on, then.”

They step out into the hallway, the castle relatively quiet right now. The floors creak under their feet as they move down floor after floor. James, to his credit, never once asks Regulus where they’re going.

It’s not till they get to the second floor that James starts to wonder. Is Regulus about to show him where he’s been going all year? He’s waited so long. Been so patient. 

“Ok. James, do you trust me? I’m going to explain everything. I promise.” Regulus pauses, and James realizes they’ve come to a stop. He looks around, eyes widening. They’re at Myrtle’s bathroom, coincidentally the same one Regulus fell out of all those months ago. 

“Yeah, of course.” It’s the easiest answer, because it’s the truth. He trusts him. Despite himself, he trusts him. 

Regulus pushes the door open, wincing at the resounding creak and squeak of the hinges. They step in together, James glancing around. “While I appreciate you bringing me to an abandoned bathroom, I can’t quite say I get why this was something you needed to show me-”

“Shh. Be patient.” Regulus frowns, looking around. “Don’t worry. Myrtle never comes out when I’m here. I think she’s scared of me.”

“Lots of people are.”

Regulus huffs at him and then crosses to the row of broken sinks, kneeling down in front of one. James joins him after a second. “Reg, what-”

When Reg opens his mouth, it’s not English that comes out. Another hiss, short and to the point. Parseltongue, James realizes. Of course. He can’t help but stare as Regulus sits back, waiting. 

The sink slides back, the grating sound of ceramic on ceramic filling up the echoey room. James stares, wide eyed, as a space opens up in the plumbing. It’s a tunnel. A dark, deep, tunnel that he can’t see the end of. 

"What the fuck."

James blinks, unable to form words. When he looks over he finds Reg already watching him. “We have to go in.”

“We- We have to go in? There?” James turns back to the tunnel. A waft of cold air blows up, and it smells like mildew. He wrinkles his nose. 

“Yes, James. There. It’s not that bad, just land on your feet.” Regulus moves forward, sliding into the tunnel. He turns to look at James over his shoulder. “And here I thought Gryfindors were supposed to be brave.” With that he lets go, disappearing into the dark depths. 

James stares after him, entirely confused. Should he follow? He's expected to, obviously. Surely it was fine. Regulus wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, right? Not intentionally. 

Slowly, James lowers himself into the tight shaft. It’s cold and slippery and hard to hold on, but he manages. Taking a deep breath, he decides to trust himself. Trust Regulus. Trust his instincts. He lets go. 

The fall is short and windy, more of a slide than a chute. He’s deposited roughly onto the ground, something crunching under his shoes as he lands. He steadies himself on the cool stone wall and looks around, trying to get his bearings. Regulus is waiting, arms crossed. They’re in a stone room, the floor littered with something James can’t quite make out. 

“Took you long enough.”

“What the fuck? What is this place?” James blinks at Reg through the darkness, still breathing frantically. “You use some weird ass snake speak to open a door to an oddly creepy ancient passageway then practically shove me down a slide that leads to a room filled with- Jesus, Reg, are those bones?”

“Yeah. Come on. You’ll see.”

Before he can stop him Regulus turns, continuing up a dark tunnel James hadn’t noticed earlier. He curses under his breath and then follows quickly, desperate not to lose sight of him again. 

“Reg, will you just wait up -”

“Come on.”

Eventually, they come to a round circular door, covered in iron snakes that curl over its surface. Regulus turns to James, a hint of anxiety one again washing over his features before disappearing completely. “You need to wait here. Just for a second. I’ll be right back, I promise.”  

“Please, don’t go.” James’s voice cracks a bit as he looks around, desperate in the dark.

He feels a hand on his arm and looks down to find Regulus holding him, just lightly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Reg-”

Regulus makes the sound again, a hiss that seems to trigger the snakes on the door. It swings open and James gets a glimpse of a larger chamber beyond, all cold marble and grey stone. It’s gone in a flash though, along with Regulus, who disappears through the opening and shuts the door behind him. 

James presses his ear to the stone but can’t hear anything beyond. He shivers in the cold, leaning back against the wall and pulling out his wand. He casts lumos and watches as the pale light illuminates the hallway. Once again he finds himself asking what exactly he’s doing here. 

He’s just starting to panic when the door creaks, just starting to open. “Reg?”

“Hi.” Regulus steps through, tucking his wand back in his pocket. “Come with me. Trust me, ok?”

“Of course. Hey Reg, what’s going on?”

Regulus presses his lips into a tight line. “Come on. I don’t- I don’t know how to explain. It might be better if you just see it. Maybe that's a bad idea. But you’re safe, ok? I promise you’re safe. Stay next to me.”

He grabs James’s arm and pushes him forward, through the door. He trips a bit on the stone ledge before stumbling into the dimly lit chamber. Blinking, he straightens as Regulus steps through after him. 

He can’t keep in the embarrassing squeak he lets out, all the air immediately vacating his lungs at the sight before him. 

Well, no. It's not that embarrassing, actually. James thinks it's a perfectly normal human reaction, all things considered. 

Because there in the middle of the chamber is a giant fucking snake, and it’s coming right for him. 

 

---

 

This might’ve been a mistake, Regulus thinks. The look on James’s face is nothing short of terrified, and the Basilisk isn’t slowing down. 

But she’d been asking to meet James for at least a couple months now, and they only have a few weeks of school left. He couldn’t imagine leaving without introducing them. It was time. 

There’s something else, though. Something a bit more selfish. Regulus goes to great lengths to keep James away from this side of him. The side that talks to snakes and follows the Dark Lord. But there’s a creeping desire to confront James with it anyway and see what he does. Regulus wants James to, if not love, accept all of him. A pipe dream, maybe, but real nonetheless. The way he sees it, if James understands the Basilisk then he’ll understand him. 

Except the Basilisk is still moving full speed towards James, who isn’t doing anything except standing stock still, rooted to his spot. At the last minute he moves, quickly, darting in front of Regulus and reaching for his wand.  She’s bluffing- in that much, Regulus is confident- but it isn’t helping to smooth over the introduction process. He shifts on his feet, glaring. Stop. 

Immediately the Basilisk comes to a sudden halt five feet away from James, who lets out another squeak. Oh, but his fear smells so good, Little Prince.

He’s scared enough. Leave him alone.  

James takes a step back, shuddering. He can’t talk yet, mouth opening and closing. Regulus moves closer, till he’s right in front of him. He’s not good at this whole comforting thing- but he needs James to relax. Needs him to be ok with this. “Hey. James. Can you look at me?” Instantly, James’s eyes flick to his. His pupils are blown wide with fear, making Regulus’s heart constrict. “James. It’s ok. She won’t hurt you. She won’t. I promise. She’s a friend. She can’t see, either, because I blinded her. So she can't do anything.”

“Reg, that’s a fucking Basilisk.” 

“I’m… aware.”

“Regulus.”

“Ok. Take a seat.” Regulus gently tugs James’s arm, pulling him to the ground. He goes willingly, folding his legs under him. He keeps his eyes on Regulus, pupils blown wide with fear. “I found out about her at the beginning of the year. That’s what I was doing in the restricted section of the library that time Lupin found me. I was looking for a book on Basilisks to research. Lupin wanted the same one.” He takes a deep breath. “The third or fourth time I visited her I got… injured. That's when you found me. I, er, needed some help. Thanks for that, by the way. But regardless, I try to visit her once a week, so she doesn’t get lonely. As soon as I confirmed she wasn’t going to do anything to me, I wanted to bring you. To tell you. I wanted you to meet her for so long, James.”

He pauses, gauging James’s reaction. James is still breathing hard, but seems to at least be focusing on what Regulus is saying. “Can I show you something?”

James lets out a snort laugh and Regulus winces. “Not a great choice of words. But watch, ok?”

Regulus stands up, turning back to the Basilisk. Come here.  

To her credit, the Basilisk seems to understand. She bends down her long neck, craning her head towards Regulus. Tentatively he reaches up, placing a hand between her nostrils. Her skin is as cool and silky as ever, small undetectable scales rippling beneath his palm. Regulus closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

When he turns back to James, he finds him already staring. Slowly, he gets to his feet. “She won’t… hurt you?”

“Or you. Don’t worry. I trust her. And… I think she trusts me too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to bite my head off first. Or yours, for that matter.”

James clenches his jaw. “Right.” 

He’s so afraid. The Basilisk lowers her head further. 

So was I. Regulus responds softly.

Yes, but he’s at least acknowledging his fear. Acknowledging it and pushing past it anyway. He reminds me of Godric. He was afraid at first too. 

Regulus looks back at James, who’s staring at the Basilisk cautiously. I don’t think I’m going to take him here again. I think this is your one shot to meet him. 

I better make it good, then. 

“Do you… have any questions?” Regulus asks carefully. 

“So many. Merlin. Ok. Um. Why did you go looking for her? In the first place, I mean.” 

Regulus shrugs. “I was curious. I read about this place in a book and wanted to see if the myths were true.” It’s a lie, of course, but a necessary one. 

“And that’s a real… that’s a real Basilisk?”

“Yes.” 

“And it, what, lives here? Hiding under the school?”

“Yes.”

“Why- what- who have you told?”

Regulus shifts. “You.”

“Ah. Ok. Why is it here?”

Regulus twists back to look at the Basilisk. Can I tell him about your master?

Do you trust him?

More than myself.

The Basilisk twists her head. Then yes.

“Salazar Slytherin created her. He raised her down here, back in his time.”

James blinks. “Slytherin? Why?”

“To kill the muggles that attend Hogwarts.”

James’s face falls, shutting down instantly. “What?” He takes a few steps back, hand going for his wand. 

“James, no.”

“Regulus, this creature, this thing, was bread to kill innocent muggles. You’re ok with that?”

Regulus frowns, trying to keep himself vulnerable. Trying not to let himself shut away his emotions and lock down. “I-”

“Was that what happened with Myrtle? It was, wasn’t it?” 

And Merlin, sometimes Regulus forgets James is smart. “Yeah.”

“And you associate with it? Willingly?”

“Her, James. I associate with her. She’s… different. She was raised like that. She doesn’t know anything else.” 

“That’s no excuse-”

“Just- I need to keep explaining things. Can we come back to this? There’s more I’ve discovered. About Gryffindor, actually.”

James pauses. “About Gryffindor? As in Godric?”

“Yeah. Just… trust me a little more? Come a little farther?” 

James frowns. “Ok, Reg. I- fuck. Fine.”

“Right.” Regulus lets out a sigh of relief and looks up at the Basilisk, taking a deep breath. I feel like it’s important, he starts. To show him your master’s room. He needs to know about Godric. 

He wouldn’t understand what they had.  

Yes, he would. 

He’s angry already, and defensive.

Regulus shakes his head. He’s confused. He doesn’t know you like I do.

The Basilisk pauses. You think he’ll get it? 

Regulus takes a deep breath. He needs to put it in a way the Basilisk would understand. He’s my… sun. It's sappy and gross, but it seems to get through to the Basilisk.

She twists her head, considering. Do what you think is best. 

Regulus turns back to James. “Come on.”

 

—-

James is feeling... a lot of things. Fear, for one. That’s probably the most prominent, followed shortly by confusion. The snake-thing (Basilisk?) was awfully close to Regulus. Way too close for James’s comfort. They kept talking - and not in a language James can understand. He’s going off Regulus’s expressions alone, and he really isn’t giving him much to work with. 

He can’t think, can’t process everything that’s happening. It answered a lot of questions, namely about where Regulus has been sneaking off all year. It created a lot of questions too, of course- but none James had the answers to. 

Regulus tugs on his arm again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Come on.”

James takes a step, then another, being careful not to take his eyes off the Basilisk. Her head tracks him relentlessly, despite her eyelids being swollen shut. He shivers. 

“Up here.” Regulus pulls him to another tunnel. Stepping back, James realizes it’s the mouth of the statue- dark and long. He can’t see the end of it. 

“You want me to go… in there?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, climbing into the tunnel. James, against his better instincts, follows. The Basilisk waits in the main chamber, and James can’t help but feel a guilty sense of relief. The tunnel eventually opens up into a smaller room, complete with a small human-sized wooden door set into one of the stone walls. James pauses as Regulus walks up to it, whispering another word in parseltongue. The door clicks and Regulus grabs the handle, turning back to James. “In here.”

James moves forward, leaning up against the doorframe. It’s an old room, dusty and brown. Obviously ancient. The furniture all looks overstuffed and moth eaten- but also very lived in. He can see the spots in the dust where someone's been sitting. There are letters and books everywhere, scattered yet carefully sorted. James smirks despite himself, looking over at Regulus. “Have you been down here reading, Reg?” 

Regulus ducks his head, turning his face away from James. “It’s very interesting.” 

“I’m sure it is. So… what? This was Slytherin's old room?”

“Yeah. But- um.” Regulus looks slightly nervous, glancing up. “Not just his.”

James re-examines the room, trying to piece together what Regulus was getting at. Reg hands him a letter, and after a moment James takes it gingerly. Carefully he unfolds it, making sure not to let it rip. It looks like it’s about to disintegrate in his hands. 

 

Godric, 

I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I miss your touch. I miss your words. I miss your lips. I wish this fighting would cease. Rowenna’s being unnecessarily ardent about this issue, as per usual. I’m sorry to be separated so much from you, but I can not be around the rest of them when they’re like this. I long for you, mon soleil. Come back to me. 

Salazar

 

James feels his heart stutter to a stop. He looks up, wide-eyed. Regulus swallows. “That was one of his more straightforward letters. The others are a bit more vague. Or depressing.” He shakes his head. “It’s awful, actually. All these letters. You can watch as their relationship crumbles and they’re forced to separate.”

“What are you saying?”

“They were together, James. Gryfindor and Slytherin were… together.”

James can’t talk. He just blinks at him. 

“I didn’t believe it, at first. Then I read more of these letters, and talked to the Basilisk. And it turns out this room is where they would meet. Like the Come and Go room for us. The Basilisk says Gryfindoor gave all his letters back when Slytherin left. They couldn’t talk in person so they’d just write. Unless they met here, of course.” Regulus is rambling now, wandering around the room. He’s reaching out and touching various objects with a gentle fervor, as if he’s in awe of everything around him. “There’s one thing I don’t get. I’ve been thinking and I just can’t figure it out.” He takes a breath. “Gryffindor had to pass through the chamber to get here. He would’ve had to walk past the beast that opposed everything he stood for. How could he see that, see what Slytherin had done, and continued to love him?”

James stares at him from the doorway, at the curl of dark hair gently brushing over his deep gray eyes. It’s not so hard, he thinks. It’s not like he had a choice, anyway. 

Regulus is watching him carefully, still standing in the middle of the room. James pushes off the wall suddenly. He rests his hands on Regulus’s shoulders, gently sliding them down over his arms. Regulus shivers under him lightly. James can’t fit logic through the emotions overwhelming him; they leave no gaps.

Carefully, he tips Regulus’s chin up, enjoying the way his pupils dilate. When he kisses him it’s long and sweet: a pure contrast to the heat from earlier.   

After a moment James pulls back, swiping his thumb over Regulus’s cheek gently. “Thanks, Love. Thank you for showing me this.”  

Regulus nods softly. “I needed to tell someone.”

“Has the Basilisk ever hurt you? Seriously?” 

Regulus shakes his head, looking away. “Not since that one time.”

“Why do you like this place so much?” James wrinkles his nose, looking around at the dust. “It’s old and chilly and there’s so much stone.” 

Regulus takes a step back, frowning. “It’s history. It’s our history. Or mine, at least. Somehow I’m related to Slytherin. Which means-” He stops talking, pressing his lips together. “Nevermind.” 

“And the Basilisk?”

“I… talk to her. Or she talks to me. Sometimes neither of us talk and I play my violin.” 

“Hm.” James does another turn, shivering in the cold. “I don’t know how much longer I can be down here, Reg.”

The cold is insistent, pressing, seeping in from every angle. There’s an energy down here, dark and angry. It's the same feeling as when Regulus speaks Parseltongue, ancient and powerful and terrifying. He too can feel the press of history- just as Regulus said. But it’s different, to him. This chamber is littered with blood and bones, death wishes and blood supremacy. It’s evil. 

Regulus looks away, eyes sad. “Alright.” 

They walk out of the room and down the tunnel silently, James trying to swallow away the increasing uneasiness the chamber’s rapidity instilling in him. The Basilisk is waiting, curled in the center of the large room. Regulus sends her a glance before preparing to continue on. James stops him, pausing in the middle. “Can you ask her something?”

Regulus gives him a look. “Sure.”

“Can you ask if Godric felt the same way about the chamber? If he felt…” James searches for the right word. “Uneasy here?” 

Something flashes across Regulus’s face before he turns and says something to the Basilisk. The Basilisk responds and Reg nods, looking back at James. “Yeah. He did. He didn’t like the Basilisk, though he was polite to her. Just like you. But he felt better after a while, once he was in Slytherin’s backroom. Slytherin… ah. Slytherin decorated it so he’d feel more relaxed.” 

“You got all that from whatever she just said?”

“Well, no. I’ve talked to her about this before.” 

“Ah.” James looks back at the Basilisk, trying to get used to the sight. “I can’t believe you haven’t told anyone about this.”

“Who could I tell? Who wouldn’t hurt her if they knew?”

“So you’re protecting her then?”

It’s an innocent question, but something in Regulus’s face shuts off instantly. “I- no. That’s not what I said.” 

James takes a step. “It’s fine. We can change the subject. Can we uh- can we go, actually? I’m really cold. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Come on.”

The crawl back up the tight shaft is harder than James expects, forcing him to brace his body against both walls. Once he pushes himself out and onto the tiled floor of the bathroom he rolls onto his back, groaning. 

“How the fuck did you do that with a broken ankle?”

Regulus stands up, looking down at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

James pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Seriously. That must’ve been awful. And your ribs, too.”

Regulus looks down. “Doesn’t matter now.” 

James stands up, sighing. “Are you still gonna go down there every week?”

“Yes.” 

"Any way I can convince you not to?"

"No."

They leave the bathroom quickly, steps echoing on the tile. When it happens, it happens suddenly. Rounding the corner James physically runs into someone, nearly knocking them both over. He takes a few shaky steps back. 

Regulus comes to a stop next to him. 

“What are you two doing here? Together?” Snape's eyes narrow, shoulders hunched.  

“Fuck off, Snape,” Regulus drawls, bored. 

"Could ask the same thing about you." James says, crossing his arms. 

Snape’s dark gaze flicks up, meeting James’s. He’s holding something, James realizes. A bag clenched tightly in his left hand. 

“Hello, Potter.” His eyes flash. “I’m looking for Lupin.” 

Notes:

ahh it finally happened they met yay

Chapter 32: New Idea

Notes:

idk guys this one's short and bad but it needed to be written

“What?”

Snape smirks. James hates him. “You heard me. Do you know where he is?”

“You think I’m fucking letting you near him?”

The glint in Snape's eyes turns to simmering anger, mouth pinching. “Of course you’re worried about his safety. Ever thought that I was the only one in actual danger?”

Regulus takes a step back from James, as if he’s trying to fade into the background.  James lets him. Snape doesn’t. “Where are you going, Black? You still haven’t answered my question. Bit late to be out and about, isn’t it?”

“Curfew doesn't matter anyway. I’m leaving.”

“We should have a talk later, you and me.”

Regulus casts him a cool glance. “I’d rather cut off my tongue and eat it.”

Snape bristles. “Fuck off, Black.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Creative.”

“Why in Merlin’s name are you here, Snivilleus?” James crosses his arms. 

“I told you. I need to talk to that freak Lupin. I need to give him something.”

“As if I’d-”

“Yeah, you said. Don’t worry, Potter, I have orders from Dumbledore. You think I’d seek that thing out if I didn’t have to?”

James takes a step forward, grinning as Snape takes a step back. “I’ll talk to Dumbledore, then.”

“That’s useless.”

James sends him a glare. “I don’t care.”

“And Regulus? What do you have to say for yourself? What would Crouch say, knowing this is the kind of company you choose to keep?”

“You mean Potter? Doubt he’d care, honestly.”

“And Dumbledore? What about him?”

James sees the slight twitch in Regulus’s shoulders. “He’ll be fine. I’m leaving.”

“But we-”

“No.” Regulus turns on his heel and walks off, in what James knows is the wrong direction. Maybe he’s going back to see the Basilisk.

James shoves past Snape, making sure to hit his shoulder. He can hear his steps echo in the quiet halls. Snape runs to catch up to him. “Where are you going?”

“To get Remus, then go find Dumbledore.” If Snapes’ lying, it’s at least a good excuse to get him in trouble. 

“Fine.”

James and Snape walk in silence, the stairs to Gryfindor tower seeming suddenly endless. 

Snape breaks it first. “Why were you walking with Black?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re hiding something. I’ll figure it out.”

“Best of luck.” James rubs his eyes. He’s just so tired. He knows he’d never be able to sleep anyway, though, so he’ll have to ask Reg for more potions. 

They pause at the Portrait hole. It’s still early enough that people are awake- James can hear them through the wall. He turns to Snape, wrinkling his nose. “Stay here, Snivellus.”

Snape rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

James flips him off and ducks through the door. Mary looks up from the couch. “Where’d you go?”

James shrugs, grinning. “Around. You know me. I follow the wind.”

Mary gives him a look. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you know where Remus is?”

“Upstairs, I think. With Peter and Sirius.” Mary cocks her head. “Did that get… worked out?” 

Ah. They must’ve talked. Good. James raises his brows. “Get what worked out?”

“You know. The fight or whatever. Everyone knows.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Mary opens her mouth and James turns towards the stairs, sending her a wink as he goes. He, true to Mary’s word, finds Remus sitting on his bed. Peter and Sirius are on the other, arguing about the correct orientation of the dresser. James knocks on Remus’s bed posts, leaning against them. 

“Snapes here.”

Remus’s head snaps up. “What? How’d he get in?”

“No. Not here, here. Downstairs. In the hall. Waiting for you.” 

On the other bed, Peter and Sirius’s conversation dissolves. Peter narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“He wants to talk to Moony.” 

“And you were gonna let him?”

James rolls his eyes. “Of course not, Pete, but he says he’s got orders from Dumbledore. Says he’s got to give Remus something.” 

“And he’s… downstairs?” Remus sets his book aside, standing up.

“Yeah. Do you want to come with me to Dumbledore? I can go alone.” 

Remus shakes his head, expression slightly distant. “No. I should come with you.”

“Are you-”

“I’m coming, James.”

“Ok.” James sends a look over at Sirius, who looks a little terrified. He gives him a reassuring smile and turns back to Remus. “Let’s go, then.”

“Real quick, Prongs-” Pete sits forward. “Where were you?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I had a meeting with McGonagal.”

Peter leans back, crossing his arms. “Mm, no. We didn’t get an excuse for this one, actually.”

James blinks at him. Sirius snorts. “Mate, if you’re seeing your boyfriend, you can just say that.”

Which is probably true, but there’s something about telling Sirius he’s going to go see his little brother that makes James deeply uncomfortable. 

“Right. Ok. I was with my… yeah. Good talk. We’re going to go now.” James grabs Remus and tugs him out, furiously ignoring his blatant smirk. 

They make it to the hall quietly, letting the portrait swing shut behind them. When Snape sees Remus, he physically takes a step back. James resists the urge to punch him. 

“Took you long enough.”

“Shut it.”

The three of them set off towards Dumbledore’s office. Snape groans. “This is pointless, you know.”

Neither James or Remus respond. Snape sends them a sideways look. “After this, don’t think I did you a favor. Dumbledore's making me. I didn’t do this for you.”

“What are you talking about, Snape?” James asks. Remus hasn’t said anything since they started walking. 

“Well, if you didn’t insist on actually going to see Dumbledore I would’ve explained-”

“I don’t fucking trust you.”

“We’re here.” Remus interrupts their bickering, looking up at the door. James knocks first.

The door swings open, revealing Dumbledore in all his wizened glory. “Ah. Boys. I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

“Sir, Snape wants to talk to Remus and he says he’s working under orders from you.”

“Come in, Mr. Potter. You too, Mr. Snape and Mr. Lupin.” Dumbledore steps aside and James begrudgingly enters, followed shortly by the others. 

“There we are. Ah. Yes. I did send Mr. Snape to find you, Mr. Lupin. You’ll have to let me explain. Please, sit.”

A third chair appears at his desk with a soft poof, and James sinks into it suspiciously. He wonders if this was where Regulus was sitting when Dumbledore laced his tea with Veritaserum. He decides not to think about it, in favor of keeping a level head. 

“The other day Professor Slughorn came to me with an interesting discovery. He’d caught Mr. Snape here tinkering with some potion’s supplies after hours. I went to talk to him and found out he’d been brewing a potion similar to Wolfsbane. Do you know what Wolfsbane is, Mr. Lupin?”

James glances over, watching the way Remus’s fingers tighten on the arms of his chair. “Yes.”

“I don’t.” James looks back at Dumbledore. “What is it?”

“It’s a potion that relieves rather than cures the symptoms of Lycanthropy. It allows a werewolf to regain its human consciousness during a full moon as well as making the transition easier on the body. I’m surprised you didn’t come to me requesting the potion earlier, Mr. Lupin.”

“I… I knew it wouldn’t be possible.”

James looks back to Remus. “Why not?”

Remus lets out a defeated sigh. “It’s insanely difficult to make.” 

Snape smirks. “And yet, I managed it.”

“With stolen ingredients and supplies, might I add.” Dumbledore says with a wink. “Regardless, it’s true. Severus here did somehow manage it.”

“I was brewing it for myself.” Snape shoots Remus a disgusted look. “For my own personal protection.”

“Fortunately,” Dumbledore interrupts, “Wolfsbane doesn’t work that way. And besides, there’s no reason for such precautions, Mr. Snape. We have dealt with Mr. Lupin’s… issue as safely as possible.”

“He attacked me!”

“I believe you were the one that entered the shack, so it wasn’t entirely unprovoked.”

Snape huffs, sitting back in his chairs. James looks back at Dumbledore. “Sir, respectively, why are we here?”

“I have asked Mr. Snape to give the potion he has brewed to Mr. Lupin. Depending on his reaction, we’ll have either Slughorn or Severus here make more.”

Next to James, Lupin goes still. “You want me to… drink whatever Snape’s brewed up? And I’m supposed to trust that it’s safe?”

“Professor Slughorn has verified its safety, Mr. Lupin. I promise you I have nothing but your best interests in mind.” 

“I don’t- I can’t-” Remus shakes his head, chest rising and falling. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Mr. Lupin. I see no reason for which Mr. Snape shouldn’t give his potion over to you.” 

And as much as he tries, James can’t either. It would be insanely beneficial- while he’d been worrying about finding a cure for Remus’s problem, Snape had been brewing one for him. 

“I…”

“And if I don’t want to give it to him?” Snape holds his chin up, stubborn. 

Dumbledore smiles gently. “Then I believe that choice will reflect in your house’s points at the end of the year.” 

“Fine.”

James takes a breath. “Are there any side effects?” 

"Not to our knowledge. It tastes terrible—as Mr. Lupin likely discovered during his research—but it appears to be primarily a medicinal potion."

“Right. Ok.” Remus wipes a hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dumbledore spreads his hands. “Wonderful. I thought you would. After your next change, I ask you talk to Madam Pomfrey and highlight the differences you notice. It’ll help us ensure your safety.” 

“Yeah.”

James bites his lip. He’s endlessly grateful Remus might get the help he needs, but entirely unhappy it came from who it did. 

“Severus, if you wouldn’t mind handing over the potions-” Dumbledore motions, and Snape reluctantly holds out the bag to Remus. James watches as Remus slowly takes it, avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

“Take one the night before the full moon, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus nods, eyes angry. James frowns. “He doesn’t have to do anything, right? For Snape?”

“No, Mr. Potter, don’t worry. This is an entirely selfless gift.”

“That he’s being forced to give,” Remus mutters, but drops it. 

“You should all be getting to bed.” Dumbledore sits back. “It’s late enough.”

“Of course, Sir.” Snape sneers, standing up. He leaves first, James and Remus following shortly after. James notices Remus’s knuckles, white on the bag of potions. They make it to the hall and start walking.

 

---

 

“Potter!” 

Remus freezes as James turns, adjusting his glasses. “What?”

Snape moves towards him slowly. “I need you to understand. It’s like I said. I didn’t do this for you, Lupin.”

“Obviously.”

“I was forced to.” 

“I don’t want your bloody potions, Snape.” Remus hisses, waving around the bag. He’s livid, actually, and doesn’t care who sees. 

Of course his savior is Severus fucking Snape.

“Well you’re bloody holding them, aren’t you?”

Remus presses his lips together, fuming. James steps forward. “Fuck off, Snape.” He’s got the sort of defensive stance Remus’s learned to recognize- the one that says ‘do what I say or someone’s getting cursed.’ It’s a little disconcerting, but not entirely unwelcome. 

“Why the fuck should I?”

“Because it’s almost curfew and Remus here’s a prefect. Wouldn’t want him to see you out of bed after hours, would you?”

“Oh, so now curfew’s important? That’s not what Black said when I ran into the two of you earlier. Pick a side, Potter.”

James goes still just as Remus starts to process what Snape said. James had been out with the boy he was seeing earlier. Remus knows that much. But Black? As in Sirius? No, because Sirius had been in the dorm all night. Which means…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

James is staring at him with wide eyes, face seeped in fear and guilt. Snape clears his throat.

“Fine. Lupin, I hope I brewed those wrong. I hope they’re bloody poison.” He turns with a huff, angrily stomping back up the corridor. 

“James,” Remus says quietly, and it’s work to get even that much out. “James. I need you to tell me you aren’t seeing Regulus Black.”

“I-”

“I need you to look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t sleeping with Sirius’s little brother.”

When James’s chocolate eyes flick up to meet his, Remus can see the answer etched into every corner. Undeniable; clear as anything. Remus groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Merlin’s beard, James.”

“You have to understand, Remus. Please. Let me explain.” There’s desperation underlying every word, and James looks as close to frantic as Remus has seen him in a long time. 

Remus crosses his arms, setting his jaw. “Fine.”

“Not… not here.” James looks around, pulling him into a classroom. James shuts and locks the door behind them. Immediately he starts pacing, running a hand through his messy hair. “Bloody hell. Ok. Shit.”

Remus feels no sympathy for him.

“I found him at the beginning of the year. He’s… he’s helping me find a cure for my Dad. That’s why he’s getting better. He’s amazing, Remus. You should see him working. He’s so...” There’s a glint in James’s eyes that twists Remus’s stomach. “And he’s different than everyone thinks, I swear. He’s kind.”

Remus scoffs, remembering the scar gashing across Sirius’s chest. He resists the urge to curse James right then and there for forgiving someone so awful so easily. “Have you forgotten what he did, Prongs? God,” He shakes his head as something else occurs to him. “You bloody punished Sirius for betraying me, all while you were fucking his brother. Knowing what he did to Sirius. What he continues to do.” 

“I’m sorry,” James’s voice cracks. “For not telling Sirius. But he doesn’t understand. They both don’t get the other. If they’d bloody talk then maybe… but no. I can’t tell you a lot of what he’s told me, but I can tell you that I would never associate with him if I thought what he did to Sirius was inexcusable. There’s more than you know. More than Sirius does either.”

“I don’t understand-”

James looks up at him then. “He’s saving my Dad, Remus.”

Remus huffs out a breath, letting that sink in. He thinks of the boy with sad eyes and a quick mind. “So that’s where you’ve been going all year, then. To work on… what? A potion?”

James nods. “Yeah. A cure. Or- multiple. It’s confusing.”

“And that’s just supposed to forgive… everything?”

James presses his hands to his eyes. “You have to believe me, Remus. He’s not a monster. Not like Sirius says. He doesn’t-”

“What, James? He doesn’t know him like you do?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Remus rubs his eyes. “You were going to.” There’s so much to say, so much to process, so much left to forgive.

“He was imperioed. When he cut Sirius.”

Remus’s head snaps up. The first thing he feels is a flood of relief- because that makes this so much easier. That would mean James isn’t a bad person; just a complicated one. 

“Are you… sure?”

James nods, firm and certain. “Yes.”

“What if he wasn’t telling the truth?”

James laughs, looking down. “He was.”

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

“And when did this start?”

“A fair bit ago.”

“Who- who initiated it?” It won't change things, not really, but it does matter. 

“He kissed me first, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

The thought of Regulus and James kissing nearly shuts Remus down for good. “And now…”

James lets out a soft sigh. “He’s so wonderful,  Remus.” 

Something stabs at Remus’s heart and, for the first time, he starts to wonder if this is something deeper than he fully understands. When he voices the question that's been brewing for a while, it’s barely a whisper against the still classroom air. “Do you love him?”

He knows it’s a big question. He knows James may not have an answer. But-

James looks up with glittering eyes. “Yeah.” He takes a breath. And then: “It hurts.” 

And Remus starts to think that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he does understand. Maybe this isn’t so out of the ordinary. Because he knows that look, knows that feeling. Knows that after a while it imprints itself on you, leaving a residue he can never really get off. 

“How do you know?”

And when James smiles at him, it’s sad and lonely. “How do you know you love Sirius?”

Remus sucks in a breath, looking down. He’s not surprised James knows. He’s more surprised Sirius doesn’t. “The Black brothers, huh?” He says finally, with a cracked smile. It’s a peace offering; an olive branch. 

James lets out a short and quiet laugh. “They’re going to be the death of us, Moony.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I do. Have you seen them speak french?”

Remus chuckles, then pauses. “On the topic of languages… has Regulus…”

“I know he’s a Parselmouth, yeah. I assume you figured it out way back in the library? That time he cursed you?”

“Yeah. He told you about that? Did he tell you what he was doing? I still haven’t figured it out.”

“No. He didn’t want to say, so I didn’t pry.” James sighs, looking down. 

Something about that feels off to Remus, but he doesn’t ask. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to tell Sirius about this.”

James looks back up, gaze sharp. “Yes. Please don’t. I’ll tell him in my own time. Don’t tell anyone, actually.” 

Remus thinks back to when James asked him the same thing at the beginning of the year, that time about his dad. “Ok. I won’t. But this is the last secret I’ll help you keep from Sirius.”

“Yeah, alright. Of course.”

James moves to the door, unlocking it and holding it open. “We should go. The other’s will worry.”

“‘Course.” Remus stands up. “James?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

 

---

 

Well. He was interesting. The Basilisk curls around herself in the middle of the Chamber, settling into a spiral on the ground.

Regulus sighs, hanging his head. He’d retreated back here almost immediately after Snape showed up. What’d you think?

I… was surprised. 

Regulus cocks his head. What do you mean?

You smelled different around him. Your voice sounded different too.

How so?

Happier. Less scared. 

Regulus takes a seat, leaning up against the Basilisk’s long body near her head. You would notice that. 

He reminds me of Godric. 

Regulus shakes his head. Stop saying that, he bites out.

The Basilisk moves, muscles rippling under Regulus’s back. Why? 

You keep comparing us, James and I, to Godric and Salazar. I don’t want to be like them. 

The Basilisk tenses. Why not?  

Regulus shakes his head. They ended badly. Tears and silence. I don’t want that. It’s like they forgot each other the second they broke up. The letters were returned. They never spoke about it. I don’t want that. I won’t have that. He turns to look at her, even though she can’t see him. There’s something burning in him, something angry and aggressive. James and I are going to be different. We aren’t going to lose each other. We won't forget. I’ll find a way to get us through this war. I won’t make the mistakes they did. 

The Basilisk lets out a low rumble. I should be angry. 

But? 

But I don’t want you to end like them either. 

Regulus smiles, tipping his head back. He rests it against the Basilisk’s body, staring at the ceiling. There are two weeks of school left , he whispers softly. Then I go home for the summer. 

The Basilisk hisses. Then you come back. And I’ll be waiting.

The words hit Regulus like a poisoned arrow. And before he can stop them, emotions are overwhelming him, crawling up his throat and out his eyes. A single tear, followed by a few more, trace their way silently down his cheeks. He’s shaking and he knows the Basilisk can feel it, pulling his knees to his chest. The guilt is all consuming, eating his stomach from the inside out. Because there’s a knife in his trunk upstairs, waiting to be used. Because he desperately, desperately, wants to find a way out of this. Yeah, he whispers, you will be.  

The Basilisk says nothing, twisting her head towards him. Regulus lets himself cry, soft and shaking, until there’s nothing left but a dull ache. He turns his head, still resting against the Basilisk’s body, to stare at the large statue. His eyes are heavy from his tears, weighed down.  Thank you, he manages, hardly a whisper. Hardly anything. Hardly enough. 

Gently, gently, Regulus lets his eyes close. Soft and heavy, the rise and fall of the Basilisk’s breathing lulls him into a heavy sleep.

Notes:

God I love foreshadowing

Chapter 33: Promise

Notes:

updates should be coming faster now (don't hold me to that)
ur comments seriously make my day 10x better I stg

The Quidditch match against Hufflepuff goes just the way everyone expects it to. Dorcas scores a shit ton of points, the beaters nearly send the other team to the hospital wing, and Regulus catches the snitch. It’s over before anyone has time to consider a comeback for Hufflepuff. 

Landing hard, Regulus holds the snitch up high before getting mobbed by his teammates. He’s breathing heavily but the thrum of victory leaves him slightly giddy. 

He looks up to the stands, grinning when Barty whoops and yells his name. Evan stands next to him, one arm over Barty’s shoulder. He sends Regulus a thumbs up and a wink. 

The party is as predictable as the game. Regulus comes out of his dorm to find Dorcas reclining in an armchair. Someone must’ve let Pandora in because she’s dancing to the music, hips swaying in time with her hair. Dorcas holds out a bottle to Regulus. 

“There you are. Beautiful job out there.” 

He smirks, taking it. “I almost feel bad.” He sniffs the alcohol, grimacing before taking a swig. It burns in the best way. “Almost.”

He collapses onto the couch next to her, crossing his legs in front of him. He can feel the base of the music resonate in his chest, vibrating through his body. Dorcas glances over at him. “Careful with that shit.”

He sends her a look and takes another swig, setting the bottle on the ground next to him. “I can handle myself.”

“Sure you can. Remember that time last year you drank too much and ended up vomiting all over-”

“I thought we weren't going to talk about that.”

Dorcas smiles, tipping her head back up to the ceiling. “Case and point.” 

He rubs his shoulder, fingers unconsciously finding the raised scars beneath his shirt. He’s been meaning to talk to her for a while. Now seems like as good a time as any. “Dora told me… something. About you. About what you did.”

Dorcas’s face goes cold and she glances around. “Let's talk about this. But not here.” Standing up, she tugs him off the couch and down the hall. Regulus grabs the bottle and follows. He stumbles a bit after her- she wasn’t kidding about the liquor. 

They slide down on opposite sides of the hallway, staring at each other. Dorcas grabs the bottle and takes a quick swig, making a face. “I’m assuming she told you I came out to my parents.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I was gonna tell you, I swear.” 

Regulus shakes his head. “I don’t care.”

“I just wanted to… adjust to the idea of them knowing. And you’re so busy it’s hard to find time to-”

“Hey. I said I don’t care. Are they ok with it?”

“I-hm.” She has to think for a long moment. “Yeah. I think so. Or they will be. They’re more scared, I think, than anything. It’s not exactly safe for us, you know.”

For a bleary anxious moment Regulus wonders if by ‘us’ she meant her and him, specifically- but then decides she was probably just referring to gay people in general. He chooses to ignore the fact that he falls under that category as well. “But you feel comfortable there?”

“Yeah.” She cocks her head. “Wait, what’dya mean?”

“Like, I’m sure you could go to Pandora’s for part of the summer if you wanted to. If it felt better.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I won’t do that. They’ll be ok, it’ll just be a bit awkward at first.”

“You could avoid that entirely, though.”

She raises her brows at him. “No. I’m gonna have to face them eventually. Best to get it over with.” She chuckles. “I’m not just gonna run because things got a bit dicey.”

"Yeah, well, my brother seemed to think that was a wonderful option." Regulus looks down, biting his tongue. He grabs the bottle, trying not to think.

Dorcas pauses. “Shit, Reg. I didn’t mean… that’s not what happened to Sirius.”

“It’s fine.”

“Why did he leave, though?” 

Sober Regulus would shut this down immediately. Sober Regulus would leave Dorcas sitting in the hall without a single look back. Tipsy Regulus just sighs. “He couldn’t take it, I suppose.”

“What happened… the night he left? You never talk about that.” She keeps her voice quiet, almost respectful. 

“He was going to die.” Regulus shrugs, looking down at the bottle between his hands. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Dorcas’s eyes widen. “They hurt him that badly?” 

Regulus chuckles. “They got bored of the cruciatus after a while- started experimenting.”

“God, Reg.” Dorcas’s eyes bore into him. “If they ever hurt you that bad, you come to mine or Dora’s or Evan’s, ok? Got it?”

Regulus shakes his head, letting the alcohol act as veritaserum. It’s freeing, in a way. “They would never let me go.”

“But-”

She’s starting to sound like James. “I can handle them, Dorcas. I’ve done it my whole life.”

“And he can’t?”

“Oh, no. He could. He did it all the time. Handled them for me, mostly.” The alcohol has nothing on the familiar burn of shame and guilt. Dorcas doesn’t say anything, sensing there’s more. “I- um. I ran into him the other day. He said he… regretted all of it.” He has no idea why he’s still talking. 

“Jesus, Regulus.”

He laughs bitterly and waves his hand. “Oh, no. He was lying. He didn’t mean it.”

“Are you sure?”

Regulus nods. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s his brother. “He was just angry. I saw his face after I showed him my-” He cuts himself off, because he’s not that drunk. He knows when to stop. He knows what he’ll regret in the morning.

“Are you talking about your arm?”

Regulus goes still, staring at her. He can hear his heartbeat. “What?”

“I just mean- you fell asleep on the train one time in a short-sleeved shirt and it got pushed up and I saw-”

Regulus sets the bottle down hastily. He moves to get up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Regulus.” Dorcas stares at him, tipping her head. Her gaze is firm. Thorough. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She knows him too well, he thinks bitterly. Reluctantly he slides back down the wall. Dorcas nods. “Are they… tally marks?”

Regulus tips his chin up. “Yeah.”

She looks down. “Ok. For what?”

“Everytime Sirius took a punishment for me.”

“Shit, Reg.” She lets out a breath. “That’s fucked up.”

Regulus does laugh then, tipping his head back. Because yes. It’s fucked up. But it’s been fucked up for seventeen years, and the simplicity of the words are nothing short of humorous. “Yeah,” he says dryly. “It is.”

“You know…” She sighs, trailing off and looking at him through half-lids. “You know what? Nevermind. You don’t need to hear about how we're all here for you and you can talk whenever. You know. And you won't.” 

He gives her a tired little half-salute. She smiles, wobbling to her feet and taking the bottle from him. “Alright. No more mopping. We get it. I’m gay and you’re sad, woe is us. Let’s go.”

He grabs her hand and lets her pull him up, looking back towards the party. “Don’t make me dance.”

“You know I’m going to try.”

“You don’t even dance.”

“Yes, but I’m two months older. The desire was never instilled in me.” She pretends to caress his face. “There’s still time for you.”

He promptly shoves her away from him and flips her off, smirking when she has the audacity to look offended. “You dance, I dance.”

She rolls her eyes, starting off. “Fine. But if that's the case, we both better steer clear of Pandora.” 

He nods firmly and they return to the party. 

 

---

 

Can you play that again?  

Regulus lowers his violin, cocking his head at the Basilisk. The same song? For the third time?

Yes. 

Alright. He lifts it again, tucking it under his chin. He’s been down here for the better part of an hour. 

The notes sing out, soft and sweet, and Regulus can’t help but wonder the significance of the peice. It’s out of place here, among the cold and the stone. To him it sounds like flowers and spring, nothing dark and surely nothing close to sinister. He lets the notes trail off, loosening his bow and setting the violin back in its case. Looking up, he leans back on his elbows. 

He’s found the best place to play is the top of the statue's head. The music reverberates around the chamber wonderfully, making the acoustics perfect. 

They’ve been at this for a while, Regulus asking questions and then playing when the Basilisk gets bored.

So, did Tom Riddle really not mention anything about becoming the Dark Lord? Surely he must’ve said something. 

The Basilisk curls around herself. He talked a lot about his plans, yes, but nothing specific. Nothing about becoming this Lord you mention. 

Regulus sits forward. Like what?

So many things. 

Regulus groans. Can you give me an example?

He wanted to kill the muggles. Whatever it took. 

I know that. Is that it? Did he say how?

He cared more for himself, I think. 

Regulus tips his head. How so?

He put himself above everyone, more than a normal conceited person. 

Regulus looks down, thinking of Barty’s smug smile. I have a friend who wants his gravestone made from gold. Kind of like that?

Oh no, the Basilisk hisses. He would never be so selfless as to die. 

Regulus pauses. What? 

He hasn’t told you? He cares about blood supremacy, yes, but his main goal was always to live forever.

Regulus sits up. Immortality? Really? 

I’m surprised he never mentioned. It’s all he’d talk about. 

How did he plan on doing that? There’s a tension in the air, pressing in on him from all sides. This is important, he knows. 

Something about objects, or souls. He called them horcr… hm. The Basilisk stops. I don’t know if I should tell you this. 

Regulus frowns. Why not?

You told me how he turned out. I don’t want you to end up like that. 

Regulus touches his cheek. The scar’s long since faded, but he can still feel the cut. I don’t think I will. 

Horcruxes, then. I never forget a thing, and that wasn’t hard to remember. Not after how much Riddle talked about it. 

Regulus turns the word over in his mind, spelling it and sounding it out. It was unfamiliar, nothing he knew. What’s a Horcrux?

An object, he said, that he put his soul into. Or part of it.

You can split your soul? Regulus leans forward, shivering. 

He was convinced. He said he would find a way. Sounds like he did. 

How do you know he succeeded? 

Riddle would never fail. He didn’t then, he won’t now. He’ll win this war. He’s smart, you know. Smarter than you think. 

Regulus bites his lip, thinking. He split his soul?

Yes. I don’t know how many times. 

Regulus looks up, sharp. You can do it more than once? 

Oh, yes. 

…How?

The Basilisk raises his head. Murder. How else?

Regulus swallows. God. 

Oh, he was certainly not involved. 

So he always had a plan. From the beginning.

The Basilisk hisses softly. Yes. I imagine he’s still making new ones.

Plans? 

Yes. 

Regulus opens and closes his fist. So many plans. 

Involving you?

Regulus freezes, breath catching. He forces himself to relax, forces the guilt back down. Yeah, he breathes out. Yeah. Involving me.  

Ah. Something about the Basilisk’s voice makes Regulus look up. If her eyes were open, she’d be staring right at him. There it is.

There what is?

Why you’re so scared. You’re scared of his plans. You’re scared of your role in them.

Regulus digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, breath hitching. I… yeah.

The Basilisk knows better than to ask. You don’t want to go along with them.

No. 

Then why? 

He’ll kill me. He’ll hurt the people I love. 

The Basilisk slithers closer. Are you sure?

Regulus, for the first time, hesitates. What do you mean?

There’s always another way.

And the Basilisk can’t know. She doesn’t know. But she must feel it- must understand, on some level, that this is important. Regulus thinks about James, who clings to hope with both hands, digging his fingers in and never letting go. And if there isn’t? 

You can make one. 

Regulus ducks his head down. You sound like James. It’s the first time, potentially ever, that he’s said his name down here. 

The Basilisk hisses. He’s a smart one.  

I know. 

You’re giving him hope, you said. With your project. 

Regulus nods. The Basilisk sets its head down. Then give yourself some too. 

Regulus tucks his hand into a fist, trying to steady himself. Is this something he can get out of? He’s never thought, not once, that there might be another option. He looks back at the Basilisk, at her green scales and calming words, and understands. 

He doesn’t want to hurt her. 

He never did, not really, but it was easier. It was easier when he didn’t know her. And now… well. Now he does, and the thought of leaving her down here, maimed, bloody, and alone makes him want to vomit. He knows, of course, how much it would hurt. Not just physically, but the betrayal, the heartache that would follow. She’d never see him again, and she’d certainly never forgive him. He would never forgive himself, either. 

So he can’t do that to her, he thinks. He can’t leave her. Can’t hurt her. Not like Slytherin did. Not like Tom Riddle. 

There’s always another way, he whispers, and he swears the Basilisk smiles.

---

 

The next time Regulus sees James, it’s already Friday. The following Saturday would mark the last weekend before summer. 

James finds him on the couch immediately, settling in next to him. “Hey love,” He sighs, and the name washes over Regulus like a wave. He relaxes into James’s shoulder and feels the other boy let out a breath. 

“Hi.”

James turns to look at him, and Regulus blinks back at him. “What?”

“You’re happy.”

“I don’t know about that.”

James grins, and Regulus’s heart- still - flutters. “I do. Is it because of quidditch? You won, yeah? That was amazing.”

“Mm.” Regulus drops his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m… hopeful, I guess. If you want to put a word to it. I don’t know about happy.”

James sneaks a hand over his shoulder, pulling him a bit closer. Regulus, despite himself, goes willingly- breathing in James’s smell. He does his best to commit it to memory. “You probably want to work on the potion.”

“No, let's not. I think we can pause on that. I just want to enjoy… this. We don’t have long left.”

Regulus makes a small sound and closes his eyes against the words. “Stop reminding me.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. But Reg…” Regulus already knows what he’s going to say, but doesn’t interrupt. James continues. “I need to see you this summer. And before you start, I don’t care. There has to be a way, Reg. I need to see you.”

“I know.” Regulus traces his finger over the back of James’s hand, admiring the tiny freckles dotting his dark skin. “I know.”

“Can I find you, then? Or write?”

“No letters.” Aside from showing up at his doorstep, that would be about the worst thing he could do. All of Regulus’s letters are intercepted- he’s sure of that much. 

“Alright.” James is watching him; Regulus can feel his eyes. “Can I see you then?”

“Maybe. If I- If I can find a break.” Regulus’s forearm burns and the guilt he attempted to drown in hope comes crawling back, wrapping around the blank skin. 

“You know my address. You can come to me, ok? I’ll be there. Or someone will.”

Regulus nods, not looking at him. He wishes he could tell him- wishes he could show him how much he misses him. How much he wants to run to him, to hide in his house and in his bed till the danger passes. He can’t, though, because he knows James and knows it’ll only hurt him more. False hope never does anyone any good. 

But there’s something in his gut that tugs at him- the same thing that's tugged at him since he was eleven- that refuses to push him away. So here he is, keeping James trapped in some love-sick limbo, because he’s not strong enough to choose a side. 

“I’ll try, James,” He says, and knows it’s not an answer. Not a real one. 

“Ok. Ok, love, that’s all I want.” James rubs the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I should tell you. Um. Remus… ah. Remus knows about us.”

Regulus goes still, flooded with an icy panic. He pushes back from James, trying to keep his head clear. “What?”

James shifts in his seat. “It’s fine, don’t worry, I made him promise not to tell anyone.” 

“No, James, he can’t know. He’ll tell someone, or my brother, or-”

“Regulus. Hey. It’s alright. I made him promise.”

And that’s never been enough, not for Regulus. “You didn’t curse him?”

James looks taken aback. “No? Reg, I trust him. More than anyone. He won’t tell if he says he won’t.”

“How can you be sure?” Because in Regulus’s experience, that’s not how this works. In Regulus’s experience, they always tell.

“Do you trust me?” James asks, and those eyes nearly send Regulus into a spiral. 

“Yes.” He’s stopped questioning it at this point. 

“Then trust him.”

“I can’t.” 

“Reg-”’

“How did he find out?” 

James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “After Snape saw us together in the hall, he mentioned it to Remus. He knew I was previously with the person I’m seeing, so the timing lined up. He figured it out from there.”

Regulus curses Snape. His hand sneaks into his pocket, unconsciously going for his wand. “We need to do something.”

James catches his arm and Regulus flinches. “I trust him.”

Regulus pulls his arm away, running a hand through his hair. The panic is back, same as ever. Suddenly he’s back in the cupboard in Grimmauld Place and Sirius is begging him. 

Don’t say that, Reggie. You have to like girls. You have to. 

“If this- if Lupin tells someone and they tell my parents, I can’t- I can’t do that, James. I can’t-” He’s shuddering now, bending forward a little. He needs to talk to Remus. 

James grabs his shoulders, tilting him up. “Regulus. What can I do? How can I make you trust him?”

Regulus grabs his hand, clinging to it as he tries to calm himself down. James is steady and solid, and not going anywhere. Regulus takes a few deep breaths. James’s other hand comes up to run over his face, and Regulus leans into it like a lifeline. “I need to ensure-”

“You can’t curse him.”

“James-” Regulus wants him to understand.

“No. He doesn’t deserve that, Reg.”

And he’s about to argue when something else occurs to him. Maybe he doesn’t need to curse him. Maybe…

Regulus nods, stilted. “Ok.”

James blinks, taken aback. “What? Just like that?”

“Yeah.” Regulus looks away. “I still need to talk to him, but I won’t curse him.”

“Ok. Sure. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You won't relax until we do.” James stands up, planting his hands on his hips. “Come on.”

Regulus watches him carefully, rising slowly. “Fine.”

---

 

Classes are out for the day, so Remus finds himself by the Great Lake. It’s a warm day, the first in a while, and the breeze blowing across the lake is gentle and soft. Pete and Sirius are back at the dorm, and Remus is out here alone. It’s nice, he thinks, to have some quiet before the summer starts. 

That is until he looks up to find Regulus Black heading straight for him with a downright terrifying look on his face. 

Remus gets to his feet as he notices James trailing behind him sheepishly. Remus sets his jaw. He can guess what this is about. 

Regulus pulls up short right in front of him and Remus decides to get it out of the way. “Here to curse me again, Black?”

Regulus’s eyes flash and he sends a sideways glance at James, who gives him a pleading look. It’s strange, really fucking strange, to watch them interact. “Unfortunately not.”

“Remus, I think we just need to confirm that-”

Regulus interrupts James, taking another step towards Remus. Remus forces himself to hold his ground. “Lupin. Despite what you might think you know-”

“What I think I know? Prongs confirmed-”

“Remus. Please.” James looks up at him, and Remus sees it in his eyes. Sees how much he needs him to agree to whatever he’s about to say.

“Can you please just promise you won’t tell?”

“I did.”

“I think Regulus needs to hear it.”

James grimaces. Regulus sends them both a look, cold and icy. “ Regulus wants to do a lot more than hear it, but-”

“But we agreed no violence.” James steps up next to him. Remus watches as James’s elbow brushes Regulus’s, and can’t help the twinge of jealousy that pinches his gut. He’s not jealous of James or Regulus, it’s what they have that he wants. He wonders if they know how lucky they are to be able to love each other directly. 

“So… what? You just need me to say it again?”

Regulus levels him with a glare, and there’s something in his eyes Remus can’t quite figure out. He doesn’t like it. “Yes.”

"Fine. James, Regulus, I promise I won’t tell anyone about your little… thing.” He holds up his hands. “How's that?”

Regulus says nothing and James lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. We can talk about this later, Moony. Reg, are you satisfied?”

Regulus nods stiffly and James smiles. “Ok. Great. Regulus, you have Charms next period. And I could try to convince you to skip, but I know how well that will go. I’m going to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He looks between them, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in Regulus’s shoulders. 

Remus glances at James then turns, walking up and across the ground. He wonders if he should tell Sirius, just for a moment. Then decides James deserves better and abandons the thought. He makes it to the hall before he’s interrupted again. 

Someone’s grabbing his shoulder and turning him, shoving him against the wall with a strong grip. Remus instinctively pushes out, but before he can blink there’s a wand pressed beneath his chin. 

Regulus, a little shorter and very determined, is giving him such an icy stare Remus can’t help but shiver. 

“Wha-”

“James may have been content with your empty promises.” Regulus leans in. “But I’m not. As you know, I’m quite good at secret-keeping curses.” He lets out a huff, bitter. “Fortunately for you, I might’ve promised James I'd avoid taking that route.” 

“Lucky me.”

“Yes.” Regulus gives him a look, cold and deadpan. “Lucky you.”

Remus moves to get out from under his wand but Regulus shoves him again, harder, against the wall. Remus, despite himself, winces. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I didn’t expect you would. Gryffindors are notoriously thick, aren’t they?”

Remus feels a curl of anger twirl its way up his spine. While he may not like the younger Black he does respect him, on some level. But this- this is just pissing him off. 

“Not that, you prick. I don’t fucking understand why he’s into you.”

Regulus’s eyes narrow, just slightly. “Neither do I. Yet, here we are.”

Remus thinks of James’s bright smile and can’t help but feel he deserves so much better. “If you hurt him, Black, I swear to Merlin-”

There’s a subtle change to Regulus expression that nearly goes unnoticed- nearly. Remus opens his mouth but Regulus interrupts him, releasing his collar and stepping back. “Alright.”

Remus blinks at him. “Alright?”

Regulus looks up, eyes burning with ice. His voice comes out low and dangerous. “Alright, Lupin. I understand. We both agree, then. I’m not nearly good enough for him. But know this: I haven’t forgotten your little secret. I haven’t, and won’t. I think a lot of people would be very interested to know where you go every month, don’t you?” Remus can’t help his short intake of breath as Regulus tips his head, eyes glittering. “So let me make myself perfectly clear. If you think about- if you even consider - telling a soul about me and James, I will personally ensure every single person in this castle knows exactly what you are.” He narrows his eyes into slits. “I can make promises too, Lupin.” 

Remus’s pulse accelerates as Regulus smirks, stepping back. “Regul-”

“That’s all.” Regulus turns and sets off before Remus can stop him, leaving him panting and frozen against the wall. 

He can’t think, can’t move, because first Sirius and now Regulus... the secret he’s shoved down for 16 years is closer to the surface than ever. 

So instead of going to class, Remus sinks down the wall. Head between his knees, he focuses on the grout between the floor tiles and tries to convince himself he’s safe in his own skin. 

 

---

 

Maybe there’s guilt, somewhere, but Regulus shoves it down. He doesn’t have time for that- not now. Not when he has to get to Charms. He shudders, shaking his head. He’s still trying to calm himself down, still trying to regulate his breath rate. 

It’s sudden, when it happens. About as sudden as the first two times. 

“ATTENTION STUDENTS. KOLDOVSTORETZ SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY HAS BEEN ATTACKED. FIND THE CLOSEST CLASSROOM. HOGWARTS IS UNDER LOCKDOWN.”

Notes:

sorry Remus lol he doesn't mean it I swear

Chapter 34: The Boggart

Notes:

very short one today but oh well lol

James covers his ears, grimacing against the booming voice. He’s early to Defense Against the Dark Arts- it’s only him in here. For a minute he thinks it's a drill, just another practice. His stomach sinks when he realizes it’s not. He considers going back to find Regulus or Remus but decides he’d rather not get stuck out in the hall for who knows how long.

On the last repetition of the message, the door to the classroom bangs open. Sirius bursts in, flustered and wild. Immediately they lock eyes and James frantically waves his hand. “Get in here. Now.”

It ends up not mattering because the tiles shove him through before James can finish his sentence. Sirius stumbles over the threshold, steadying himself on the wall. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Why is it just you?” James looks around. “Where's the rest of the class?”

Sirius grins. “You’re early, mate. I heard the announcement and took off. I saw you go in and just started running. I think five different people tried to pull me into their classrooms.”

“Do you reckon he means it? About Koldovstoretz getting attacked?”

Sirius slides into the desk next to him. “He must, right? He wouldn’t lie.” He frowns. “I wonder why Voldemort’s going after those icy bastards.”

“They’re close to Durmstrang, right?” James sends a rueful glance at the door. “I wish we could help.” He’s really starting to resent being locked in rooms. 

“It’s in Russia.”

James sighs. “Still.”

“I get what you mean, though. If they ever came here… I don’t know if I’d stay locked up.”

“That’s exactly what Moony said.” 

Sirius smiles. “Yeah. I’m sure it is. I’d use his spell, too. To get out. I would wanna fight, for sure.”

James remembers a conversation over breakfast, not too long ago. “On the other hand, Pete said the exact opposite.”

Sirius looks down. “It would be interesting to see how many of the students would wanna fight and how many wouldn’t.”

“I’m not sure I’d blame him. I mean don’t get me wrong, of course I’d fight, but it would be dangerous. Extremely.”

Sirius scoffs. “I suppose.”

“You’d do it no matter what, though, right?”

“”Course.”

James nods, determined. “Me too.”

Sirius holds his gaze for a moment before getting up and crossing to the other side of the room. “What do you think we were going to do today?”

James joins him after a moment. He nods towards the large wooden chest in the front of the class. “I’m guessing that.”

Sirius regards the chest with disdain. “What are the chances that thing isn’t a boggart?”

“Slim, I’d say.” James tilts his head, eyeing the box. 

“What if…” Sirius’s fingers twitch at his side and James snaps his head to look at him. 

“Padfoot, no. You don’t wanna do that.” 

Sirius grins, but there’s something shaky hiding behind it. “Stop worrying. They were gonna show us anyway, right?”

James stares at him. “Yeah, but we don’t have to now.”

“Still. I’m curious. Aren’t you?” Sirius moves forward and James reaches out, grabbing his shoulder.

“Sirius-” 

But it’s too late and Sirius is pushing past him. He throws open the chest and James instinctively squeezes his eyes shut, putting up a hand against whatever comes out. 

There’s a large thump and then everything goes quiet. James takes a breath, heart pounding. When he opens his eyes, Sirius is crouched over something on the floor. He’s silent, staring. 

James tentatively takes a step forward. He swallows against the sight, freezing in place. 

He’s staring, more or less, at himself. A different James Potter lies lifeless and rotting on the floor, eyes open and unseeing. The real James, the alive one, lets out a choked sound at the sight. But there’s more, and the longer James looks the worse it gets. Remus’s body lies half covering James’, bloody wounds infested with molding maggots. The sight of his friend's corpse sends James’s stomach curling, nauseous and sick. 

But someone else's hand is poking out from the pile of death, pale and thin. And James takes a step back, because he knows that hand. Knows those fingers. He's pictured them dead and bloated more than enough. He moves around to the other side of the boggart, one arm covering his mouth. From this angle he can see him clearly, dark curls matted with blood and eyes utterly lifeless. 

Regulus’s cheeks are sallow and hollowed, his skin slightly gray. His lips are parted and blue, not a single whisper of air escaping. James chokes on his own breath, stumbling away. For a moment he questions if this is Sirius’s boggart or his own, because he can’t think of anything more horrifying than the sight in front of him. Then he loses all semblance of rational thought because that’s Regulus’s hand, and that’s Regulus’s corpse, and that's Regulus’s face cold and still. All James can do is stare and resist the urge to go find the real one, just to make sure he’s still breathing. Just to make sure he’s still warm. 

Something small and devilish whispers in his ear, hiding behind the part of his brain that houses common sense. This is what he’ll look like , the voice whispers. If you don’t save him. He’ll be rotting, just like this, and it’ll be your fault for not getting him out. 

Sirius isn’t saying anything, staring intently at Remus. He reaches a hand out- unshaking, James notes- and touches Remus’s hair lightly. 

“S-Sirius-”

“It’s interesting,” Sirius says, voice soft. “How it changes. I wanted to see if it was different from two years ago.” He runs a hand down Remus’s bloody cheek. “It is.”

“Sirius.”

“It used to just be Reg.” At the words both of them look down at Regulus' corpse and James resists the urge to be sick. “Then it changed to just you, and now it’s both of you and Moony. It’s interesting,” he says again, “how it changes.”

“Sirius, I can’t-”

“Maman used to punish us when it was anything but our own corpses. Which,” he laughs, “it never was. But Moony… fuck.” 

Sirius hangs his head, and James takes that moment to notice Peter isn’t in the pile. It’s difficult, though, because he literally can not tear his gaze away from Regulus’s corpse. “Sirius, please, can we stop?”

“I think she must’ve known though, on some level, that we would never fear our own death as much as we feared each other’s. Still, it does get easier. Seeing your loved one’s bodies, you get used to it, after a while.”

“Sirius, please,” and there must be something in James’s voice, because for the first time Sirius looks up. “I can’t look at this any longer. And I can’t… fuck. I can’t look away. Please. Can we get rid of it?”

Sirius’s eyes widen and he nods, standing quickly. “Shit. Yeah. You’re right.” He pulls out his wand, vanishing the boggart back to its case. He’s better than James is; he’s able to dissolve the boggart without cursing it to look like something else. Practice, James thinks.  

“I didn’t think about how you would react. Maybe I should’ve asked. Sorry.” Sirius looks down, rubbing the back of his head. “I just… I just wanted to see if it changed.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” James offers a shaky smile, trying to pretend like Regulus’s lifeless eyes aren't burned into the back of his head. “It’s like you said, yeah? We’d have to see it anyway. Better now than in front of the whole class.”

“I’m guessing you don’t want to take a look, right? Not curious about your darkest fear?”

James chuckles. “I think I’m good, mate.” He’s worried, of course, that it’ll be the same thing. That he’ll open that chest and Regulus and Remus and Sirius’s bodies will fall out and he’ll have to contend with Sirius’s face. 

“Fair enough.” Sirius sits back down. “Well. We got our entertainment over and done with in the first fifteen minutes. What next?” 

“I have no idea.” James slides into the seat next to him, still staring at the chest. “I feel like they shouldn’t be allowed to show us that.”

“Awful or not, it’s good mental training.” Sirius examines his fingernails. “We might… I mean. We might have to face our worst fears one day. It helps, I guess, to be at least a little prepared.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to that. I don’t know how you did.”

“Desensitized, I suppose. You see your little brother and best friend’s body often enough, eventually you realize it’s not real.”

James considers that. “I wonder if that’s why we were gonna do boggarts again today in class. We did them third year, remember? It’s interesting they brought them back out.”

“Smart, probably.” Sirius looks away. “I’m fairly certain Voldemort uses boggarts when trying to get information out of muggles. They don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

James grimaces. “Do you think… do you think we’re safe? Like not in general, but right now. Are we safe right now?”

“Hm.” Sirius considers, pausing. “The hope, obviously, is that this lockdown is just a safety precaution. I mean… Koldovstoretz is all the way in Russia. That’s on the other side of the continent. Apparition across that much space is nearly impossible, right? So I don’t know if they could get here in time.”

James cocks his head, confused. “In time?”

“I mean before Dumbledore and the other teachers put up shields. If they thought we were going to be attacked, they’d be setting up reinforcements or evacuating the students.”

“Or locking us in classrooms,” James mutters bitterly. 

Sirius nods. “Or locking us in classrooms.”

James sighs, looking out the window. The sun, despite the mood of the day, is still shining. Across the grounds, the lake glitters. “Did Regulus ever get used to it?”

He doesn’t know why he asked, but it’s too late to rescind the question. Sirius blinks at him. “...What?”

James bites his lip. “You said you got used to seeing your loved one’s bodies. Did Regulus?”

“Why the sudden switch?”

James shrugs, trying to act casual. He’s a good liar, except for when it comes to Reg. He’s always been able to break James down, exposing his very core. Even in conversation, Regulus leaves him raw. “Just curious.”

Sirius eyes him suspiciously. “I don’t think so,” He says eventually. “No. But I was exposed to them more than he was. She cared about me the most, back then. I doubt she still forces him to go through that exercise now. Unless…” he makes a face. James leans forward. 

“Unless what?”

“Unless it’s changed. Unless his boggart really is his own body. She’d be happy, then.”

“You think it is?”

Sirius laughs. “No. Reggie always ended in tears after those days. He hated seeing my corpse. Hated it so much more than when it was my turn and he had to look at his own. He’d nearly always cry.”

“You could talk to him, you know.” James knows he’s approaching dangerous territory. He knows he’s not supposed to care. But it’s worth a shot, he decides, if it makes things a little better for either brother. “He’d probably listen.”

“Nah.” Sirius shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I- we tried that. A while back. Not gonna happen.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to talk about him. Can we move on to something else?” Sirius still doesn’t look at him, gaze fixed firmly ahead. 

“Yeah.” James lets out a breath. “Ok. What about Remus?”

“Wow. Really just going for my throat today, aren't you?”

James smiles. “We have the time.”

“Fine.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair, holding a strand up and studying it closely. “What do you wanna know?”

“How are things going with that?”

Sirius drops the hair, sighing. “Complicated. He’s trying, I think, to be normal. Not doing a bang-up job of it, if I’m being honest. But I… you know. I can’t blame him.”

James nods. “I mean he’s talking to you, so that’s a start.” 

“I guess. I’m worried… nevermind.”

“No, what’s up?”

“I’m worried he won’t want me there during the next full moon.”

James sighs, considering. He could sugarcoat it, or… “Yeah. That might be a valid fear. I’m not entirely sure what he’ll do. It’d be weird, though, without you.”

“Especially since whatever’s going on with his wolf thing isn’t getting any better.” 

“Oh.” James looks up, surprised. “I forgot to tell you. Moony has a potion for that now. Wolfsbane.”

Sirius’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to help with the symptoms of whatever he’s going through.”

“How… who…”

James grimaces. “Yeah. So. About that. Snape made it, technically.”

Sirius freezes. “Snape?”

“Yeah. He brewed it for himself, actually. Self-protection or whatever bullshit he was talking about. Anyway, Slughorn noticed the missing equipment and notified Dumbledore, who forced Snape to give it to Remus. I think it might work. Although-” James scrunches up his face. “We won’t know until the next moon, I guess.”

“Well he’s not gonna take it, is he?” Sirius suddenly looks very concerned. 

“I think he will, yeah.” 

Sirius’ frown deepens. “What if it was poisoned or some shit?”

James shrugs. “Apparently Slughorn ensured its safety.”

Sirius furrows his brow, gripping the sides of his desk. “I don’t… That doesn’t feel right. I don’t think he should take it.”

James winces apologetically. “I’m not sure he wants your input on that matter, mate. I’m sorry.”

Sirius sighs, plunking his forehead down on the wood. “Probably smart not to bring it up, yeah.”

“Probably.”

“LOCKDOWN IS OVER. CLASSES ARE CANCELED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR DORMS.” As the booming message starts to repeat, Sirius and James stand up. 

“That was short.” Sirius looks about as confused as James feels. 

“I know. I was just settling in.” James moves to the door, prying it open. Immediately, shouts ring out. 

“My Da said someone died! Two kids were killed!”

“My Mum says three!”

James freezes in the doorway, Sirius coming up behind him. Kids file out of classrooms, waving letters or bits of parchment. “Killed?” James whispers. 

“Shit.” Sirius ducks under his arm, taking a step out. He grabs a second year’s shoulder, stopping her. “How do they know? How’d they get letters so fast?”

“The attack was this morning. It was so fast Hogwarts just now got the news, that's why the lockdown was so short. Owls from parents just came in.” 

Sirius nods, letting her go. A fourth year, angry and large, shoves past them. “I bet the fucking Slytherin’s are happy.” He pushes a boy, skinny and far younger than him, against the wall. “Yeah? Did your lot know?”

James takes a step forward. “Mate, he obviously had no idea. Let him go.”

“Now you’re defending them, eh?” The boy rounds on him, dropping the skinny kid to the ground. “You think these death-eater shits would warn us if Hogwarts was going to get attacked? I don’t think so.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, and as James watches a few Slytherins sink back. They look terrified. “We can’t villanize everyone. That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is the fact that these pieces of scum are allowed at our school. They’re gonna get us all killed.”

More people agree, some starting to shout out names or turn on the Slytherin students nearby.

Sirius narrows his eyes. “Everyone, just go to your dorms! The teachers have this under control. They wouldn’t let anyone unsafe in. Go.” 

James turns to him, eyes wide. “Two kids- at least- are dead, Sirius. This is really fucking bad.”

Sirius nods, firm and determined. “That applies to us too, James. We have to get back to the dorm. Lets find anyone we can, ok?”

“Yeah. Shit, yeah.”

They start off, pushing against the mass of bodies moving in the other direction. Here and there Slytherings seem to be targeted, ducking away from angry shouts and accusations. 

They find Peter first, waiting against a pillar. James raises his hand above the crowd. “Hey! Pete!”

Peter’s face breaks out into a relieved smile and he starts towards them. “Did you guys hear? They said kids died.” 

James nods, grim. The ever present fear coiled in his gut is starting to rear its ugly head. “Yeah. We need to find the girls. Or Remus. We need to get back to the dorms.”

“Everyone’s blaming the Slytherins,” Peter says softly, eyes locked on a boy slinking back against the wall. He looks like he’s trying to disappear into the stone, and James can’t blame him. 

“Ok. Come on.”

They keep pushing through the crowd. They find Mary next. More accurately, she finds them. Running up, she bats some of her hair away from her face. “Sirius,” She gasps, as if she’s been moving quickly. “You should come with me.”

“Mary?”

But Sirius goes, following her immediately. She turns her face over her shoulder, still talking. “Remus is up here. And- shit. People are really fucking angry.”

They see Remus’s head, just a little taller than everyone else, and the four of them find him quickly. He’s standing, arms hanging uncertainly by his side, staring at a cluster of people. He turns to them, eyes widening in relief. “I don’t know what to do,” he says helplessly, nodding towards the tight group. 

“Fuck off! You really wanna know what happened?” They can hear a voice carry above the shouts, and James’s blood goes cold. Crouch. Which means…

He and Sirius push through immediately, breaking into the first ring. Crouch is standing gin the center of the small opening, wand in hand. He’s grinning maniacally and gesturing. Evan stands on his other side, glaring. Regulus leans against the wall behind them, eyes narrowed. 

“Crouch.” James hisses, taking a step forward. “You’re making this worse.”

“Oi! Potter’s here!” Crouch sneers at him. “Gryfindor’s golden boy, here to join the fray.”

Remus and Mary finally break through behind them, panting. “We need to get back to the dorms.”

“Everyone leave it,” Sirius commands, staring at Barty. “None of this is worth it.”

A 5th year turns to him, eyes wide. “But-”

“Whatever happened happened. You heard the teachers. Get back to your rooms.”

“We don’t need your help, Black.” Crouch steps forward and James uses the time to send Regulus a pleading glance. Reg holds his eyes a moment before nodding softly.

“Barty-”

“No, Reg. Not this time. I want them to fucking see. I want them to know.”

For a moment, something resembling fear flashes across Regulus’s face and he shakes his head. “No. Don't.”

“If they’re scared of the Dark Lord, good. That’s how it should be.”

“People fucking died,” the 5th year hisses, and if James wasn’t so scared he would’ve agreed. “You’re defending a child murderer.”

Barty grins, splitting and sharp. “Yeah, but how many of those children deserved it?”

The 5th year lets out an angry cry and raises his wand. And James wouldn’t blame him, except for the fact that Barty has shifted. So the kid’s no longer aiming at him, at all. Now it’s Regulus that's on the other end of the wand, and James can’t move. Cold and useless, he hesitates. 

Sirius doesn’t. 

Skidding in front of his brother, Sirius hisses a spell and the 5th year’s curse deflects. “Don’t fucking think about it,” Sirius growls, one arm aiming his wand and the other stretched out protectively in front of Regulus. 

“What-” The 5th year starts, but Sirius doesn’t lower his wand. There’s something burning in his eyes, dark and angry. James snaps himself into action. 

He moves between Sirius and the kid, turning to address the crowd. “Okay! We’re done. Everyone leave. Now. I will call the teachers. Remus here is a prefect, so he’ll be taking class points the longer you stay.” He levels the kid in front of him with a stern look. “Just because I’m stopping you doesn’t mean I don’t agree with you. But here? Now? This is not the place or time to settle this. Figure that out later, on your own. For now, go back to your dorm.”

Bringing up Remus seems to do the trick, and slowly kids start to turn and file out. 

Mary lets out a breath. “Ok. Well.”

Sirius turns, eyes locking with Regulus behind him. Regulus frowns, brows pinching. The brothers hold each other's gaze for a long moment. Something unreadable and unspoken passes between them, and then they both turn away at the same time. Sirius looks down. “Let's go.”

Remus nods, following him, and James moves forward too. He makes sure to brush shoulders with Regulus on his way, grabbing his arm and squeezing lightly. He can feel the other boy shudder and lean into the touch before pulling away again. 

“Does anyone know where Lily is?” Mary steps up. 

“Hopefully back at the dorm.”

“I need to find her.”

James looks down at her. “Why?”

Her expression is tight and painful. “Don’t be so dense, Potter. We’re muggleborns. This isn’t- this isn’t easy.”

“Oh. Oh, shit, Mary, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” James grimaces. “Yeah. We’ll find Lily.” 

They do, eventually. She’s waiting in the common room, curled up on the couch. Mary hugs her and Lily buries her face in her shoulder. When they seperate, Lily takes a shaky breath. “Dumbledore said he’s gonna tell us more over dinner. Maybe… maybe school will end a week early.”

Remus’s head snaps up. “They can’t do that! We still have to get our OWL results.”

“They could mail them to us, Moony.” James sets a hand on his shoulder. 

Remus frowns. “Still. I don't- does anyone here really want to go home right now?”

"No," Mary and Lily say at the same time. Sirius and James just look at each other. 

"Right. This is the safest place to be."

"For now," Sirius says, and their eyes meet. Remus presses his lips together. 

James clears his throat. "Is- are you guys okay?"

"I'm fine," Lily says carefully. "Just. Yeah."

Mary nods next to her, for once staying silent. Marlene comes up behind them and sits down next them both. “What did you guys do during the lockdown?”

Remus sighs. “Closet. Again.” He and Sirius share another glance that James can’t even begin to interpret. 

“Uh… Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Me and Prongs.” 

“Charms.” Lily looks down, fidgeting with her rings. James stares at her hands. 

“How long till dinner?” Marlene asks, leaning back against the couch. 

Sirius looks up to check the clock. “About an hour.”

“Cards, anyone?”

---

 

The dorm is quiet- quieter than normal. Regulus curls himself into an overstuffed armchair, head resting on his knees. He can hear whispers around him, hisses of ‘but we didn’t do anything!’ and ‘serves them right.’ The entirety of Slytherin house is in a bad mood; and Barty’s no exception. 

“Fucking Black.” He spits, laying fully flat on the ground in front of the couch. Evan peers down at him. Barty flops an arm over his face. “If he hadn’t interrupted we could’ve really started something there.”

“Maybe- and hear me out here- maybe Potter was right.” Evan winces when Barty shoots him a look. “I’m just saying! There’s a time and a place to push your agenda. That might not have been it. Rotten timing, mate.”

“I thought you were on our side.”

“I am!”

Regulus closes his eyes. Barty notices. “And you, Reg, don’t think I’m letting you off the hook either. What was that? You were gonna stop me, again? It’s like the second Black shows up you suddenly don’t wanna fight. It’s like you switch sides.”

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And today- you were just gonna let him take the hit for you? That was embarrassing. Made us look weak, he did.”

“Oh well.” 

“What-”

“Barty. Drop it.” Evan’s voice is firm, and to Regulus’s surprise, Barty listens. 

“Come on, boys.” Dorcas touches Regulus’s shoulder gently. “Lets go to dinner. We can talk later.”

Regulus pulls himself out of the chair, standing up slowly. Dorcas gives him a look. He returns it, cool as ever. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He knows what that means. He knows she’s worried about him. Hell, he’s worried about her. But they’re Slytherins. The emotional repression runs deep. Neither of them say anything.

The Great Hall is nearly full when they enter, ignoring the glares and stoney looks shot their way. Sliding into his seat, Regulus glances over to find James already staring at him. He looks away. 

“Students. Faculty. Today, as you all know, there was a devastating attack on Koldovstoretz School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As of right now, two children have been pronounced dead.” Dumbledore’s magically amplified voice drifts over the Great Hall, ringing in the silence. “We went into a lockdown to protect your safety. When the threat was assessed and cleared, you were released. However, many parents and guardians are extremely concerned. We have received multiple requests to end the semester early and send you home tomorrow.”

Regulus’s heart plummets. If they go home tomorrow, then tonight will be his last night at school. Which would mean his last night with the Basilisk. And since he hasn’t yet thought of a solution or a way out of his predicament, that would mean he’d have to… 

“However, the 7th years still need to take their NEWTS. So, to placate everyone, we will be having a long weekend at home. You will return to your houses tomorrow, and come back Monday. Teachers are available for any questions you have. The train leaves at 8 tomorrow. We strongly suggest you pack tonight.” After a few more notes Dumbledore steps back and the food appears. 

Regulus doesn’t eat. 

 

---

 

After dinner, Regulus makes an excuse and disappears down to see the Basilisk. I’m going home tomorrow. He’s tucked himself on Slytherins old bed, ignoring the dust in search of comfort. 

I thought you had a week left.

I do. I’ll be back Monday night. Regulus traces circles on the pillow. The Dark Lord killed children from a different school. 

There are other schools?

Yeah, quite a few. There are a lot of continents in the world. 

You’ll see your Dark Lord when you go home then, yes? 

Regulus turns, burying his face in the pillow. Probably, yeah.  

This is good. 

How is this good?

You can convince Tom to change his plans. 

Regulus’s voice comes out muffled. Oh, don’t call him that.

Why not?

His name is Voldemort now. 

The Basilisk goes quiet for a bit. He was always Tom to me. 

Always? 

Till the day he left. 

Regulus, despite his affinity for healthy sanitation, bites down hard on the pillow under him. It’s that or scream, and one of those options would scare the Basilisk significantly less. 

So, try and change Tom’s mind , the Basilisk continues, as she never said anything worth a mini meltdown. He might listen. 

Yeah, Regulus says, because anything’s worth a shot. The more he’s thought about it, the more he’s determined to find a way out of this. He’s starting to understand James. Hope is dangerous, but god does it feel good. I’ll try.  

 

---

 

Regulus hears the footsteps before he sees him. He’s walking back to the dorm, the night quiet and gentle despite the calamity of the day. 

He rounds the corner and stops, listening. Step, step, step. And he smiles, soft, because he’d know James Potter anywhere. He knows the rhythm of his breath. He knows the sound of his footfalls. He knows the hum of his magic. It’s seared into him, a fucking second skin. 

“James?”

The cloak slides off and James appears, the map in one hand and a wrapped handkerchief in the other. He drops the cloak and the map on the floor, crossing to Regulus slowly. He takes his free hand and wraps it around Regulus’s waist, pulling him in softly. He says nothing, kissing him deeply. The first brush of lips is light, the second much more determined. Regulus makes up for the fact that James only has one hand free by bringing his own up to tangle in his hair. When James pulls back, Regulus goes slightly unwillingly. They rest their foreheads together, breathing quietly. Regulus swallows, throat tight. 

“James, what-”

“I’ll see you Monday, Reg. I love you. Be safe.” Then James deposits the handkerchief- full of, as Regulus assumed, bread pudding- into his hands, and turns away. He grabs the cloak and the map, walking off without a single look back. 

He leaves Regulus standing shocked and open-mouthed, his heart burning a hole through his chest. 

What- 

Did he just- 

Was that intentional?

Did James even know he said it?

There’s no one around to hear his words when they finally come, choking and gargled from his throat. More snake than human. The night remains the only witness, silent and unforgiving.

I love you too.

Notes:

James recognizing Regulus by his corpse's hand and Regulus recognizing James by the sound of his footsteps

ik this one was plot heavy dw were getting some good emotional stuff for the next few chapters

Chapter 35: No Job

Notes:

It should be mentioned I hate the writing on this I know I say that every chapter but i've been traveling so it's chunky and disjointed ok cool

Monty <3
Sirius and James <3

“It’s just two days, yeah?” Sirius catches Remus’s eye across the train compartment and Remus nods, forcing himself to look away. 

“Hopefully. It’ll be quick.” 

“They should’ve just canceled school.” James throws his head back against the seat rest, frowning. 

“That would feel like a bit of an overreaction wouldn’t it?” Peter asks. 

Sirius frowns at him. “Not really, mate. I get why the parents are concerned. I mean- kids are dying. Actively. They sent everyone home the year Myrtle died, or so McGonagal says.”

“Yeah, but that was here. And there was an active threat in that situation.”

“But it’s still a school, you know? And what do you mean there’s no active threat?”

Peter doesn’t sit up, simply twisting his head to look at Sirius. “Oh- you know. After the conversation I had with Moony I was just thinking. And, well, it wouldn’t make sense for Voldemort to attack a school that has so many of his cronies.”

Sirius stiffens, and Remus finds himself examining every line of tension across his body. “But there are no, like, actual Death Eaters here. Just supporters.”

James presses his lips together, saying nothing. His face stays stoney, and when Remus attempts to catch his eye, he looks away. 

“What about Crouch, and his lot?” Peter gestures lazily. “I guarantee if they’ve met the Dark Lord once or twice.” 

Sirius runs a hand through his hair- a nervous tick. “Voldemort, Pete, not the Dark Lord. And hell, I’ve met him. Sure it wasn’t very pleasant, and I didn’t end up a Death Eater, but I don’t think we can compare just meeting him to being loyal.”

Peter’s eyes narrow slightly. “You’ve met him?”

Sirius looks at his feet. Runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Remus tilts his head softly. “What was he like?” 

Sirius’s eyes snap up to meet his, and Remus ignores the resulting thrill that shoots down his spine. “Terrifying.” Sirius laughs, though it lacks humor. “Really fucking scary. He didn’t say much, just asked for my name, but still. I don’t know how his followers stand it. His presence is just so…” He trails off hesitantly. “I can’t even explain it.”

“Yes, well, we aren’t really holding his followers to the highest standards of excellence, are we?” Peter traces shapes into the condensation on the window. 

“No. I suppose they're all fucked up enough to bear it. Still, though,” Sirius shivers. “His voice.”

“I’m going to the loo,” James mutters, standing suddenly. The door slides shut with a bang behind him, leaving the rest of the compartment silent. Remus watches him go, knowing exactly what- or who- he’s thinking about. 

“That was odd.” Sirius murmurs, staring after him. 

“You think he’s ok?” Peter asks, furrowing his brow. 

“He’s fine.” Remus rubs his eyes. 

Peter sends the door one last glance before leaning forward conspiratorially. “I’ve been meaning to ask- who do you guys think his mystery lover is?”

Uh oh. 

“I genuinely have no idea.” Sirius crosses his arms, eyes sparkling. “It can’t be someone in Gryffindor, right? We’d know.”

“Probably Ravenclaw, then? I feel like James likes them smart.” Peter smiles. “If Lily’s anything to go off of.” 

“You think he’d just find someone that reminds him of Lily? Why not just stick to her, then?”

Peter kisses his teeth. “True. Good point. Hufflepuff then?”

“No, I’m not saying we should overrule Ravenclaws altogether. I’m just saying we shouldn’t only go off of traits he likes in Lily.”

Peter finds Remus’s eyes. “What do you think, Moony?”

“Huh?”

“Who do you think James’s mystery lover is?”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t know.”

“Boring.”

The door slides back open and James steps through. Everyone goes quiet, and James pauses, staring at them. “...What?”

Sirius starts first, leaning forward. “James, you have to tell us who you’re seeing. You must.”

James’s eyes go wide and they instantly shoot to Remus’s; a silent question. He subtly shakes his head and James looks back at Sirius. “Absolutely not.”

“Why, though?”

“He doesn’t want anyone to know.” James shrugs. 

Remus, despite himself, snorts. He smirks, wondering if James knows how much of an understatement that is. He can still feel Regulus’s wand pressed under his chin and hear whispered threats filling a quiet hallway. 

James shoots him a look and Remus tries to disguise it as a cough, bringing his hand up. He winces apologetically. “Ok. My turn.” 

He stands and pushes past James, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes. “Good luck mate,” He mutters as he leaves the compartment. 

It’s hilarious, really, a sort of poetic justice, when the first person he runs into is a certain curly-haired stoney-faced Slytherin. Regulus’s eyes lock on him, inevitably narrowing, and Remus stifles a laugh. Regulus scowls and starts towards him, steps long and stiff. “Lupin.”

“Regulus. We were just talking about you, funnily enough.”

Regulus’s eyes go wide and Remus lets out another self-indulgent chuckle. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe.” 

“Good.”

When Remus goes to push past him, Regulus doesn’t move. Remus raises a brow. “Can I get by?”

“I-.” Regulus looks suddenly uncomfortable, glancing around. “I actually do need to speak with you.”

Remus grimaces, remembering the last time they talked. The memory leaves him bitter and mean. “Again?”

“What- oh. Yeah. Again. It’s about James.”

At that, Remus stands up straighter. “What about James?”

“No.” Regulus jerks his head to an empty compartment a bit behind him. 

Remus sighs. “I’ll meet you there in two minutes. I have to piss.” 

Regulus wrinkles his nose but nods, turning and disappearing into the compartment. 

When Remus returns and finally slides open the door to the compartment, Regulus is staring out that window with that perfect Black posture. Sirius slouches and bends, yet somehow, it always looks intentional. Never quite natural. The lines of his back snap into place when stressed or threatened; exposing the upbringing Regulus evidently never even tried to shake off. 

“Ok. What do you want.”

Regulus’s head snaps towards him. “I- well.”

“Spit it out.”

“You’re the only one that knows James and I are… involved.” There’s a faint blush climbing up Regulus' neck. 

“Alright.” Remus takes a seat across from him, lifting a brow. “Going to threaten me again?”

“No.” A faint muscle in Regulus’s jaw ticks. “I’m trying a new thing.”

“Oh? What d’you mean?”

“You know James. Fairly well, I‘d say.”

“Get to your point.” 

Regulus grimaces. “He said something… before I left. I don’t think he even knew he said it. And I need to know if he meant it.” Regulus shifts uncomfortably, and Remus notes with a quiet fascination that this is potentially the most vulnerable he’s ever seen him. 

“So why the fuck are you talking to me?”

“It’s like I said.” Regulus says. “You’re the only one who knows about us. I literally can’t talk to anyone else.” 

There’s no warmth to this admission of feeling- just a cold sort of desperation. Regulus needs to know, and according to him, Remus has the answers. To him, it’s a simple emotionless transaction. “Fine. So what’d he say?”

“I- um. He said…” Regulus trails off, the flush climbing higher across his cheeks. Remus smirks, remembering what James admitted that first night he found out. 

“Did he say he loved you?”

Regulus flinches. Hesitantly, with no small amount of regret, he nods. 

“Ah. So… what?”

“He didn’t mean to say it. I don’t think. I’m not sure. I know James, and I know he would’ve talked to you about this if he could. So you have to tell me. Was it… I mean, did he know what he was saying?”

The underlying tone of uncertainty backing Regulus’s tone curls Remus’s lip up. “You’re- you’re fucking kidding me, right?”

Regulus’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“He says he loves you and you, what, don’t believe him?”

Regulus’s expression hardens and he looks back out the window. “James is a very good liar.”

And that, well. That’s literally the most ridiculous thing Remus has ever heard. “Wow. You really don’t know him at all, do you?”

Regulus smiles softly, just the corners of his mouth twitching up. He still doesn’t look at Remus. “See?”

“You...” Remus trails off, staring at Regulus. “You really don’t believe him?”

“He normally can’t lie to me, though, so for a second I thought he might actually…” Regulus runs a hand through his hair and Remus thinks of Sirius. “Actually, nevermind. No. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He stands up quickly, moving to the door, and Remus catches his shoulder. “Fuck. Wait.” Regulus is flighty, Remus has noticed. He wonders how Prongs ever managed to pin him down.

“This was a mistake.”

“James means it.”

Regulus stills, not looking at him. Remus continues. “I don’t like you very much, and I don’t think you’re good for him. I think he deserves better. I get the sense you know that too. But regardless, James wouldn’t lie about something like that. For some god-forsaken reason, he means it.”

Regulus takes a little breath. For a second, he doesn’t move. Remus wants to see his face, though he knows that would hardly help. He keeps talking. “And I’m only telling you this because James loves so strongly. And he deserves to love someone that can trust that love. So if you two are going to do this… thing, I need you to understand that.” 

Regulus takes another step, breaking free of Remus’s grip. “This was a mistake,” He says again, but it's quieter this time. Slightly distracted. 

The stark contrast to their last conversation leaves Remus reeling. Going directly from violent threats to talking about love and relationships is a little dizzying. Bringing a palm up to rub his forehead, Remus sighs. “If you say so.” He gets the feeling he could spend years trying to understand the younger Black’s mind and it’d still be the most confusing thing he’s ever encountered. He gave up trying to understand what Regulus was thinking back on their second day of astronomy.

Regulus shakes his head with a bitter scoff, letting the compartment door slam shut on his way out. 

 

---

 

“But everyone at Hogwarts is ok?” Effie brushes some lint off Sirius’s shoulder and picks up his luggage, one hand on her hip. 

James rolls his eyes, doing his best to pretend like he hasn’t missed her worry and fuss. “Yes, Mum, everyone’s ok. It’s just Koldovstoretz that got attacked, not us. We’re fine.”

Effie frowns and huffs slightly. “It’s awful. There’s really nowhere safe, is there?”

“Well, it was in Russia.” Sirius offers. “So we’re not that close.” 

“Still.”

“How’s Monty?” Sirius asks as they step inside. James stops to grab the rest of the luggage, following shortly after. 

“Oh, he’s doing alright. A little on the weaker side today, but he’s probably just tired. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you two.” She looks away, a long dark braid resting over her shoulder.  “I think… I think he’ll want to have a talk after dinner.”

James pauses on the threshold. “Nothing serious, though?”

Sirius looks up, grinning. “Except for m-”

Effie and James both send him twin glares. “Shut it.” They say at the same time. Sirius just winks. 

Effie’s lips twist in a way that makes James’s smile drop. “Mum?”

“No. Nothing too serious.”

She's a liar. It is, in fact, serious. Promptly after dinner Monty summons them into the living room and sits them down on the couch. He’s sitting in the armchair, a blanket on his lap and circles under his eyes. James and Sirius exchange apprehensive glances. Sirius speaks first.  “Monty? What’s this about?”

“Just- just wanted to talk to you boys. I was going to wait until the summer, but now that we’ve been granted this time I supposed I would just… get it over with.”

Monty’s hands fidget in his lap and cold dread starts to pool in James’s stomach. “So?”

“Right. Well-” There's a knock at the door, loud and sharp, and Monty’s head snaps up. “Ah. That’ll be Ervin now.”

Effie goes to let the man in, and after waiting for him to remove his boots, escorts him to the living room. He’s tall and thin, face slightly gaunt. He has a leather folder tucked under one arm, slightly wet. James realizes it must be raining. 

Monty shakes his hands and smiles at the boys. “Boys, this is Ervin Griffis. He’s here from the Ministry.”

James turns to his father, eyes wide. “The Ministry? Why?”

“He’s come to officiate my will.”

James hears Sirius inhale sharply next to him. Taking a deep breath, James forces himself to relax. It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. Monty having a will or not having a will wouldn’t affect Regulus’s potions. It wouldn’t affect their plan. 

“Do you- I mean- I thought you were making progress?” Sirius’s voice is shaky, and James instinctually leans into him. 

“I am. But…” Monty’s eyes find James’s and James furrows his brow, confused. “In case that stops. I want to be sure everything is in place.”

Effie, sitting in the armchair across from Monty, gives the boys a sad smile. “It’s just a precaution, loves. Don’t worry about it.”
And she’s right, James knows, because he and Regulus are nearly done with the next potion. They’ve brewed enough to last all summer. And Monty knows too, because James sent him a letter warning him about its effects. So why…

Sirius shakes his head. “But, still, is it necessary? I mean, if whatever the doctors are doing is working, why are we preparing for the worst?”

“Like I said. In case it stops.”

“But-”

“Sirius.” Monty cuts him off and James feels Sirius flinch subtly. He reaches over and gently takes his forearm, rubbing small soothing circles into the skin with his thumb. Sirius, after a moment, relaxes into the movement. “I appreciate your concern,” Monty continues. “But either way, no matter what happens, having a magically officiated will is never a bad idea.”

“Right.” Ervin sets down the folder, opening it with reverence. “Shall we go over the assets?”

“Yes. In simple language, if you don’t mind.” Monty chuckles. “I’m a little too tired to keep up with all your legal jargon at the moment.”

“Ideally, everything would be left to Mrs. Potter, including liquid and non-liquid assets. However, in the event that Mrs. Potter cannot reasonably collect, they would be split between you boys.”

He nods to Sirius. “Mr. Black would get a slightly smaller portion of the inheritance, simply because you have recently received your late uncle's wealth as well. Mr. Potter-”

“Wait.” Sirius sits forward, eyes wide. “Hold on.”

“We thought it was only fair, Sirius, since Alphard-”

“No, no, I’m not upset. I’m… confused.”

James glances at him and knows exactly what he’s about to say. Sirius swallows. “Why am I in the will?”

Monty and Effie exchange a look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… why isn’t everything left to James? Why do I get any of it?”

Monty smiles. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“No,” Sirius blurts out. “It isn’t.”

“Sirius-” James murmurs. 

“No. Wait. I just showed up here and you took me in, I assume because James asked you to, and I’ve just been using up your food and your house and haven’t been paying for any of it. Merlin, I barely do any chores. Why would you put me in your will?” From the small place where James’s thigh touches Sirius’s, he can feel the other boy’s leg shaking. 

Effie laughs. “You cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, the day after you came. When you’re around you do more chores than James, or me, or Monty. As far as food goes, you hardly eat enough. And why would we make you pay for it? Do you see James coughing up any sickles for his meals?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“He’s your son.”

“So are you.”

Sirius opens his mouth to continue but no words come out. He shuts it after a moment, staring at them. Effie continues. “And for the record, we didn’t take you in because James asked us to. We took you in because we wanted to, Sirius. You never deserved to be in that house.”

“I don’t- um. I.” Sirius twists to look at James, eyes pleading and wide. “I can’t-”

James squeezes his arm. He drops his voice down to a whisper. “Do you need-”

“Yeah. I need to get some water. Sorry. I’ll be right back.” Sirius rises quickly.  

“Sirius-” But he’s gone before Monty or Effie can interject. 

James lets out a breath, exchanging a look with his parents. “I’ll go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that might be best.” Monty sends the Ministry official an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Ervin.”

James finds Sirius in the kitchen. True to his word, he’s holding a cup of water. Granted, he’s sitting on the ground with his head between his knees- but James figures it’s the thought that counts. Slowly, he lowers himself across from him. 

“Do you remember at the beginning of the year when we laid on the kitchen floor for a solid five minutes?”

Sirius nods, lifting his head to give James a shaky smile. “I was so mad at you.”

“Yeah. I might’ve screwed up a bit there.”

“I think we’ve both had our fair share of screw ups this year.”

James laughs, nodding. “You might be right.”

Sirius takes a long drink of water, exhaling slowly. “You want me to go back in there,” He says finally.

James glances back over his shoulder. “I would say we have about 3 minutes.”

“Lovely.”

“You know- you can stop treating yourself like you don’t belong here, Pads. You were born into the wrong family, ‘s all. But we fixed it. You’re where you’re meant to be now.”

Sirius squeezes his glass tighter. “They never hesitate to tell me that, either. It’s just… sometimes I feel like I don’t-”

“Like you don’t deserve their love.”

Sirius’s eyes flick to his, and slowly he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers thickly. “Right.”

Between the two of them, the words are nothing new.

 

---

 

During the second half of school in fourth year, James had found Sirius sitting on the South Tower roof. He’d just come to the Potter’s, turning up on their doorstep over Christmas break. The following semester he’d been relatively quiet and subdued- or the Sirius Black equivalent, whatever that meant. The Marauders had been worried, of course, but then again everyone was. 

When James had noticed Sirius’s absence at dinner, he’d tried to ignore it. Tried to dismiss it. Yet there was something off- something wrong- ticking in the back of his head. He’d excused himself quietly, heart secretly pounding. 

“Sirius?”

The other boy had twitched at the sound of his name, glancing back. He kicked his legs in the night air. “You found me, huh?” 

James tried for a smile. “Missed dinner. Moony’s worried, you know.”

“Is he?”

“Mhm.” Carefully, James took a seat next to him. He made the mistake of looking down, swallowing. The height and openness of the night sent his stomach swooping. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Getting a job.”

James stares at him, taken aback. “What?”

“I need to earn some money.”

“Literally what for?”

Sirius’s eyelashes fluttered when he blinked. “My own flat.”

“...What? Why?”

“I can’t keep living with you forever, James. Effie and Monty may be willing to help me out this summer, but after that… I’ll need a place to stay.”

James let out a snort at that. “What are you talking about? You live with us now.”

“No, I mean for good. After this summer.”

James had taken a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “Sirius, you live with us now.” He repeated eventually. “You aren’t moving after this summer. My parents would never kick you out. You could get old and die in that house and they’d just be happy to have you around.”

Sirius laughed ruefully. “No. They don't see it yet. Give ‘em a few weeks and I’ll be out for good.” 

“...See what?”

“What a fuck up I am.”

James had gone still, letting the words sink in. His heart ached. “Why would they think that?” He asked quietly. 

“Jesus James, even you can’t be that stupid. Look at me! Wherever I go, I mess something up.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know what you mean-”

“You said you mess things up. Give me an example.”

“The other day, when we pulled that prank on the Ravenclaws. It was my spell that backfired and got us caught. It’s my fault we have detention this weekend.”

James shook his head. “No. That doesn’t count. I want a real example.”

“I…  I couldn’t stop that Slytherin Chaser the other day in Quidditch. Probably lost us the game.”

Again, James shook his head. “That’s still not an actual-”

“I abandoned Regulus. How about that then, hm? I fucking left him in that house with no one to protect him anymore.” Sirius’s eyes flashed. “And Monty and Effie might act nice right now, might say they want me there, but they’ll notice soon enough. They’ll see how worthless I am. Couldn’t even save my little brother, Prongs. Couldn’t even do that much. And if it’s not Regulus, then it’ll be my grades or my hair or the way I dress. And when they kick me out, I’m going to want a place to stay. So. I need a job.” Sirius had leaned forward out over the open air and James had grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. 

“Sirius, Jesus, stop. Wait a second.” James took a deep breath. “None of that’s right. Slow down.” 

“I-”

“No. It’s my turn.” James leveled his friend with a steady look. “Regulus is fine. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. He hurt you, yeah? Someone that does something like that doesn't deserve all this fuss. And as far as my parents go, they are not Walburga and Orion. I don’t know if that’s what you need to hear right now, but it’s the truth. They will not think twice about your hair or the way you dress, and I don’t think they’ve ever once gotten mad at me for a bad grade. So you aren’t fucking moving out, you’re staying right here. Right next to me. Alright?”

Sirius had bitten his lip, swiping aggressively at his eyes. “I don’t… I don't understand why Monty and Effie put up with me. I don’t understand why any of you do.” 

“Because we love you.”

“Don’t know why. It’s not like I fucking deserve it.”

James looked at him and thought God. What have they done to you? Instead, he took Sirius’s hand. “I do.”

“What?”

“I think you deserve it. So. Doesn’t really matter what you say, does it?”

“I-”

“No, sorry. I’ve just decided your opinion on this matter is biased and irrelevant.”

“My opinion is biased?”

“Oh, yes.”

“But you’re the one who-”

“-Loves you?” James had winked, wrapping an arm around Sirius’s shoulders. “Guess you’re right, Mate. But I don’t think I’ll be able to convince you that you deserve that love, so I’ll just have to show you. Unfortunately I get the feeling that might take some time. Which means you’re gonna have to stick around. Which means no moving out.” He stared at Sirius, long and hard. “And no job.” 

“No job?”

James squeezed him tighter. “No job.”

After a long moment, Sirius had let out a soft breath and nodded. His voice was barely more than a whisper against the night. “No job.”

It wasn’t until much later when James had gotten a little older and understood a few more things about the world that he realized he’d never asked what Sirius was doing on that roof. 

 

---

 

“Mm. Still haven’t quite convinced you, have I?” Back on the kitchen floor, James reaches over and takes the water from Sirius’s hand. “I’m working on that, by the way,”

Sirius laughs lightly. “Right.”

“Am I at least getting close?”

“You’re doing better.” 

And while that's not the answer James wanted, it’s still a good one. His chest warms a bit, fuzzy and full. “My parents will try and convince you too, if you let them.”

“I… know.”

“She really fucked you up, didn’t she?”

Sirius lets out a breath, looking down. “Yeah. Yeah, she did.” 

“Can we go back in there and un-fuck you up?”

Sirius smiles. “If you insist.”

Monty gives them a hesitant look when they finally sit back down. “Good?” He asks with a nod towards Sirius. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, Ervin.”

“Yeah, sorry Ervin.” James echos. 

“Right.” Effie nods at the taller man. “Please. Continue.”

The will, like wills tend to be, ends up being long and far too complicated. James is nearly asleep by the time Effie finally ushers Ervin out. He binks himself awake, though, because he desperately needs to talk to his father.

“I’m going to bed. We can talk more in the morning, yeah?” Effie, returning from the door, sets her hands on her hips.

Sirius nods. “I’ll join you. I’m knackered.”

“I’ll be up in a bit. I’ll just help Dad get to bed.” James glances over to find Monty’s eyes already on him. 

“Sure. Night.”

“Night.”

After Effie and Sirius disappear up the stairs, James moves over to the chair and carefully helps Monty stand up. Slowly and carefully they move to his bedroom, where James sits him down on the edge of the bed as he fluffs his pillows and organizes his blankets.

“I have to ask, Dad, why the will now? Beyond the ordinary precautions. Why now?”

Monty sighs. “I knew you’d be curious. Told Effie I’d have to talk to you about this eventually.”

James’s hands still on the pillows, the cold dread seeping back in slowly. “About what?”

“James, listen. I got your letter. About the new potion you want me to take.”

“It’ll be ready next week.”

“Right. James, I can’t do that.”

The dread is everywhere now, all consuming and bone-chilling. “What?”

“It would cut my magic off, you said? Or make it weaker, at least? Same with my body?”

“Yeah, but he said-”

“James, I need you to listen right now. My magic- it’s who I am. I can’t… I can’t just leave it behind. I built my business on it.”

“No.”

“James-”

“No, because you’re wrong. It’s not who you are. Not even a little bit. The potion would protect your mind, your consciousness-”

“And leave my body and magic emaciated. Is that right?” Monty grips the blanket. 

“Yeah, but you’d still be here, Dad. You’d still be able to think and talk and-” James has to swallow around the lump crawling up his throat. “You’d be alive.”

“Is it a cure?”

James glares at the ceiling, trying desperately to keep a clear head. “No.”

“I don’t want to be a weak lump of human flesh that's confined to his bed forever. I want to walk around and practice magic and love you guys like I should. Like a real father. And if not in this life, in the next one.”

“Don’t.”

“James-”

“Muggles live without magic everyday. They’re fine. They don’t need it to be happy.”

Monty gives him a small smile. “It’s not just the magic, James. Look.” He grabs his wand, summoning a book from the shelf on the other side of the room. “What do I do when I need you guys to get everything for me? When I’m entirely dependent on other people?”

“I’ll do it.” James says desperately. “I’ll get whatever you need. I’d take care of you. You could depend on me.”

“No. You can’t give your life for mine, James. Not when I hardly have one in the first place. It’s not a life worth having.”

“No. I don’t- I don’t understand-”

Monty winces. “I’ll keep taking the actual doctors treatments. If they work, that's wonderful. If they don’t, maybe that’s ok. The potion would be too much James. I can’t do that to myself.” 

“Then I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to Regulus. We can make a new one. Less severe, maybe.” James is rambling now.  In the back of his head he catches the flicker of surprise on his father’s face at Regulus’s name, but he stashes it away for later. He doesn't have the emotional capacity to deal with that slip up right now. “It’s the only thing that’s working. The only thing that has worked, ever, for anyone. I don’t understand why your dismissing it so quickly.”

“I have to stop, James. It hurts too much. I’m getting weaker every day, even if my mind isn’t deteriorating. It hurts. I have to let this go. So do you.”

There’s anger under the fear, hot and boiling and rapidly finding its way through the cracks. He can’t breathe, can’t push past the pounding of his heart and squeeze of his lungs.  “No. Stop. You don’t get to do this. Not when we’ve worked so hard. Not when you have two fucking sons and a wife and a life-” And maybe he’s over-reacting. Maybe everything will be fine. But it’s the willingness, the ease in which his father speaks of death and giving up that sends him spiraling.

“James. Jamie.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t. Please.” He cracks, splintering into a million little pieces. Tears start to overflow as the world around him goes wobbly. It's like he's choosing, right here and now, whether to live or to die. “Please, Dad. Please.”

“Jamie, love-”

James crawls into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Monty’s middle. He can feel his ribs under his shirt. “Please. Don’t.” There are tears rapidly wetting Monty’s shirt. James has never needed anything like he needs Monty to agree. Like he needs Monty to say he won’t kill himself. 

“I’m- I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry that I- that I didn’t do enough. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, Dad.” His shoulders are shaking now as Monty holds him, sobs racking his entire body. 

“Jamie, no. You didn’t do anything, love.”

“I must’ve. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” All reason effectively left him long ago. 

Monty’s hand in his hair starts to shake. “Shit. James. I-” 

He’d never heard his father curse before. James grips Monty’s shirt tighter. He feels like if he lets him go then that'll be it. He'll be gone. Cold beneath his hands, heart still in his chest. He can't have that. “Don’t go. Please. For me. If you love me, you’ll try.”

It's not fair. 

He knows that. 

And he doesn't fucking care.

Above him, Monty goes quiet. James can feel his breath, the rise and fall of his frail chest. “Alright.”

James lifts his head, blinking up at his father through his tears. “Al-alright?”

“I will take the next potion, James. For you.” 

James is instantly flooded with merciful relief, succeeding in nothing but making him cry harder. “You’ll take it?” He asks, because he needs to be sure. 

“I’ll take it.”

“Thank you.” James gasps. “Thank you.” He buries his face in Monty’s shirt, taking heaving breaths. His fathers hand continues to pass through his hair soothingly.  

He can’t bring himself to move, curled up on the soft bed. Can’t bring himself to let go, either. So he stays, head on Monty’s chest. 

It takes a while- a long time after Monty drifts off. But eventually, when his body manages to convince himself he’s safe, James follows suit. He falls asleep to the sound of his father’s breathing, stuttering and shallow but mercifully consistent.

Notes:

Regulus being all intimidating and confident when threatening and being mean to someone and then getting all nervous and awkward when talking about his emotions

Chapter 36: Hope

Summary:

??

“Mother.” Regulus knocks on the doorframe, nodding at Kreacher to take his bags upstairs. 

Walburga looks up sharply from her desk. “Regulus. You’re back.”

“Yes. Did they warn you I’d be coming?”

“Unfortunately they did. Muggle-sympathizing cowards, sending you back over a small attack. The only children harmed were Muggleborns, but that doesn’t matter to them, does it? No, they…” Walburga trails off and presses her lips together, frowning at Regulus. “When are you leaving?”

“Monday.”

“Hm. I’ll cut your hair before then. It’s getting too long.”

“Alright.”

“How are your grades? You just took your OWLS, yes? When do you get those back?”

Regulus looks down. “Next week, Maman.”

“How do you think you did?”

He tells her the truth- coincidentally it happens to be exactly what she wants to hear. “I doubt I got anything less than an E.” 

Walburga looks him up and down, nodding once. “Fine. Anything else? Any meetings with Dumbledore?” Her eyes glitter. “I advise you not to lie to me again.”

“No, Maman. No meetings.”

“Good.”

Regulus takes a deep breath. “I would like to speak to the Dark Lord this weekend, if there’s time. I have some questions about my task.”

“Questions? He did not thoroughly explain?”

“He did. I have more anyway.”

Walburga eyes him suspiciously. “There’s a meeting tomorrow evening. I’ll take you after.” 

Regulus nods. “Thank you, Maman.” 

“You will not disrespect him by questioning his orders, do you understand? Anything you ask him will be simple clarifications.”

Regulus’s resolve stutters but he keeps his face on careful lockdown. Cold and impassive as ever, he agrees. “Of course.”

“Go. Kreature has lunch waiting.”

He bows his head. “Thank you.” 

As quietly as he came, he slips out the door. 

 

---

 

He finds the book he’s looking for in his father’s study. It’s dark, the rest of the house sound asleep. Kreature had woken, stopping him at the top of the stairs. It hadn’t taken much for him to be dismissed, though he gave Regulus quite the suspicious look on his way down. 

Regulus slides the book off the shelf, biting his lip when the wood creaks. He tucks it carefully to his chest, folding his arms around it and backing out of the study quietly. He makes it to his room in peace, lighting a candle and settling down on his bed. 

Wiping the dust off the cover, Regulus flips it open. Secret of the Darkest Act by Owle Bullock. He skims through the first few chapters. It’s interesting, sure, but nothing he doesn’t already know. Preliminary intro-to-the-dark-arts stuff. 

The Basilisk had said the word Horcrux like a taboo, like some secret that needed to be guarded because of its ugly and brutal nature. But here it was: a whole book on them, information laid out in clear neat chapters. In this world, in this house, it didn’t seem taboo. It seemed perfectly natural. 

As it turned out, Horcruxes were fairly straight forward. Commit a direct murder, the most sinful act, and use the resulting split in your soul to create an object that ensures your immortality. Regulus leans forward, pulse quickening. 

“It’s the darkest form of magic,” the book reads. “ To force yourself into two pieces, to split your very essence down the middle, is unthinkable. The only wizard known to accomplish this feat was Herpo the Foul from Ancient Greece.”

Not anymore, Regulus thinks bitterly. He wonders if Voldemort read this same book. He wonders if he too sat crouched near a candle, insides tingling not with dread but excitement. Maybe, Regulus thinks, he read it outloud to the Basilisk. The thought sends a surprisingly angry thrill of possessive energy through him. He thinks of the scar on her cheek, the one Tom gave her, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Before he can tunnel down that particular angry rabbit hole, Regulus sets the thought aside for tomorrow night and keeps reading. “Horcruxes render the creator nearly undefeatable. There are very few known counters, as Horcruxes themselves are indestructible. The objects are often protected by a numerous amount of curses and charms, and the very nature of a Horcrux itself fends off ordinary attacks.” Regulus narrows his eyes and pinpoints on a word. Nearly. Nearly undefeatable. So…

Quickly he flips back to the table of contents, working his way down. Introduction, What is a Horcrux, Instructions on Creation, Falts and Counters. There. Regulus finds the chapter quickly, tucked near the end of the book. 

“A Horcrux can be defeated using two main weapons: Fiendfyre and Basilisk venom. While Fiendfyre is dark enough magic to permanently burn the soul itself, Basilisk venom will melt straight through the outer core and dissolve the entire thing. While Fiendfyre takes some concentration and control, the right wizard is able to manage it successfully. Basilisks are thought to be extinct, so there’s little threat posed on that end.” 

Regulus stares at the page before slowly shutting the book, setting it on his nightstand. Pieces were rapidly clicking into place, blocks aligning. That's why the Dark Lord wanted the Basilisk fangs. Not to destroy his Horcrux, but to ensure no one else could. If Basilisks were thought to be extinct, then the last threat to his soul would be the only one left. Which meant…

“Shit,” Regulus whispers, letting his hand trail over the cover. Her mutilation wouldn’t actually accomplish anything. It would be a preventative measure, working towards no actual change. Ensuring the status quo. Her pain, her loneliness, would all be meaningless. Pointless. 

He takes a shuddering breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

There had to be another way.  

He could seal the Chamber completely, maybe. Lock the door nice and tight, never to be released. It could only be opened by a parselmouth anyway, so what exactly was Voldemort worried about? Which Parselmouth, which descendant of Slytherin himself, would be willing to go against the Dark Lord? Except- Regulus glances at the book on the table, at the information he’s definitely not supposed to know. He thinks about the fury that swirls around somewhere deep down whenever he meets Voldemort’s eyes. 

Maybe the Dark Lord’s right to be cautious. 

He slides off the bed, grabbing the book as he goes. The stairs creak a bit as he goes down, but he knows which steps to avoid. When he finally deposits the book back in his father’s study, his mind is churning, answers much less forthcoming than questions. 

When he finds his way back to bed, it’s late. Too late. He’ll be tired in the morning, and his mother will get upset about the dark circles under his eyes. He’ll have to use Glamour, which is fine, but takes more energy.

Groaning, Regulus buries his face in the pillow. He wraps his arms around himself, squeezing tightly. About as tight as James would. 

Well.

That’s embarrassing. 

Regulus concentrates on sleep. He’s just so tired. When he finally slips off, it's to the thought of Horcruxes and the Basilisk's green scales. 

 

---

 

“Again.” Walburga is perched primly on the couch, black dress arranged neatly around her. Orion sits in the armchair opposite, reading. 

“Nothing else?” Regulus lowers the violin, fingers and arms starting to ache. 

“You’re fumbling on the final section. Again.”

So he plays it again. And again, after that. Till even keeping his eyes closed does nothing to ebb the blurring of his vision. His fingertips begin to burn. Finally:

“Stop. I’ve heard enough.” Walburga waves her hand and Regulus lets out a silent gasp of relief, letting his arm drop. She studies him carefully. “I really should’ve started you on the piano.”

“I like the violin.”

“You don’t play an instrument to like it, Regulus.” 

Regulus looks down, still holding his violin. “Can I put it away?”

“Mm, no.” She sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Play it again.”

“You said you’d heard enough-”

“Play it again.”

Regulus does.

When he’s finally released, Regulus slips the violin back in its case and moves to head upstairs. He’s stopped by the doorway, Orion’s hand tight on his arm. “Wait a minute.”

“Yes?”

“Come with me.” Orion turns and heads down the hall, taking a seat at his desk. Regulus awkwardly stands across from him, hands folded. “I want to discuss your plans for next year.”

Regulus eyes the book he stole last night, hoping his father doesn’t notice the odd lack of dust. “What do you mean?”

“After you complete the Dark Lord’s task, we expect him to grant you The Mark. You already make his potions when his normal potioner isn’t available. I’m sure you’ll be granted more duties after that.” 

Regulus takes a deep breath, unfeeling. “Alright.”

“Do you wish to return to Hogwarts after this summer?”

“I- what?” Regulus binks, taken aback. 

“I’m quite certain you heard me.”

“It’s my choice? I still have two years left.” 

Orion raises a brow at him and Regulus nods. “Can I decide later?”

“You're rapidly depleting my patience.”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to have to talk to my professors and see what my grades are. I’ll tell you this summer.”

Orion sighs but nods. “Fine. Your mother believes we should pull you out now, but I insisted the choice be yours.”

Regulus ducks his head. “Thank you.”

“Out. I have work to do.”

Regulus nods and turns, leaving Orion at his desk. He grabs the violin case from the couch and climbs the stairs slowly, lost in his thoughts. 

He wishes he could talk to James without everything blowing up in their faces. Wishes he could explain everything, ask for advice. Maybe he’d understand this time. Maybe-

No. 

Sirius is off the table.

Regulus shakes his head and pulls out a textbook, sitting up against his pillows. It occurs to him that he spends a lot of time in bed. Too much, probably. 

Eventually, he gives up. Trying to read feels pointless. He shuts the book with a groan and sits up. He has four hours till the meeting- that’s more than enough time to figure something out.

Regulus finds his way down the stairs and pulls on a jacket, slipping into his boots. Kreacher appears with a pop beside him. “Master Regulus is going somewhere?”

“Yes, Kreature. Just to a friend's house. I doubt Maman will ask, but if she does, tell her I’ll be back in time and that there’s no need to worry.”

“Of course, Master.” Kreature blinks up at him and offers a crooked smile. 

Regulus softens. “Thank you. Take some time for yourself this afternoon, yeah? You work too hard.”

“Kreature is being fine, Master. He thanks you very much for your kindness.” 

Regulus nods and carefully closes the door behind him. 

Pandora’s house isn’t far- just a few neighborhoods away. Regulus takes the Muggle tube, enjoying the shift and sway of the crowded train. No one looks at him as he tucks himself against the far wall, keeping a tight grip on the pole. 

A small baby, wrapped tightly in a cloth and pressed against his mother’s chest, stares at him with wide eyes. 

He stares back. 

Eventually the train screeches to a stop and Regulus joins the throng of people pushing out. He knows Dora’s address- like James, she’s made him memorize it. The small garden spills up instead of out, wrapping around the windows and roof of the house. Flowers crack through stone, winding themselves around the stairs. It’s such a striking sight Regulus is sure Muggles can’t see it. 

When he knocks, Pandora’s mother answers. “Yes? Hello?”

Regulus swallows, looking down. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, Mrs. I was wondering- is Pandora home?”

“Regulus Black.” Her mother’s expression tightens and she glances behind him. “You’re here alone?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want anyone-”

“Reg!” A blur of white hair pushes out from under her mother’s arm. Pandora smiles at Regulus brightly, taking him in. “You’re here.”

“Yeah. I didn’t say I was coming. Sorry.” He half-directs that at Pandora’s mother, still glaring from the door. 

“Oh, I knew. Come on. We’ll go to the park.” Pandora tugs on his arm and Regulus tries to force himself to relax. 

“Right. Ok.”

She pulls him down and onto the street. “We should make this a tradition, you know? Going on walks over breaks.”

“Yeah.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “Your mother doesn’t like me.”

Pandora’s expression sombers a bit. “She doesn’t like your family.”

Can’t blame her, Regulus thinks. He says nothing though, pressing his lips shut. Pandora nudges him with her elbow. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I- how did you know I wanted to talk?” 

“You wouldn’t come to me unless it was urgent. So I’m ready. Go.”

Regulus lets out a tense breath. “I don’t have long. But I… um. I need to run something by you.”

“Go for it.” They cross the street, entering the park. 

He looks around, still on edge. Pandora, of course, notices. “Don’t worry,” She smiles. “There’s no one here that knows or cares what we’re talking about.”

“Ok.” Regulus looks away. “I need to- I need to get out of the task the Dark Lord gave me. I can’t go through with it.” It’s terrifying, saying it out loud. It sounds childish. Selfish.

“Ah.” Pandora nods, looking up at the branches of a tree. “I suspected it might be something like that.”

“I just- I can’t.”

“Ok.” She looks back at him. “Is there any way to accomplish what he wants without going about it the way you currently intend to?”

“No.” Of course he’s thought about that. He dismissed any sort of fakes or duplicates of the fangs almost immediately. 

“Right. Then…” She studies him carefully. “What happens if you don’t follow through?”

“I-” he takes a short breath, picturing his parents' reaction to the failure. “They would… not be happy. They’d- I-” He cuts himself off with a sharp shake of his head. He refuses to meet her eyes. “That would be bad.”

“Hm.” Pandora hums gently. “Reg.”

“Yeah?”

“What if you don’t go back there this summer?”

His whole body stiffens. He hates having this conversation. Hates how many times he has to. “Pandora. I can’t. You know that. I have duties to fulfill. She’d find me-”

“Would she?”

“She wouldn’t stop until she did.”

“Alright.” Pandora settles down on a stone wall and after a moment, Regulus follows her. “Tell me anyway. Tell me where you’d go, if you left.”

Regulus looks out across the park. “I… I would follow Sirius.” 

“The Potters, then?”

“Yeah. The Potters.” 

“What would you do once you got there?” 

The answer comes instantly. Regulus has pictured it so many times in his head he knows exactly how it would go down. “I would tell Euphemia and Sirius the situation. I would warn her Walburga would be looking for us. I would have her and Fleamont put up defensive charms and wards. They’re powerful people. The wards would probably hold.”

“And the Dark Lord? What if he comes looking for you himself?”

Regulus shakes his head. “The Dark Lord has a lot of enemies. He’s too lazy to seek them all out individually. There’s thousands of places to hide, and I know how by now.” He thinks about the Horcruxes and the Basilisk’s fangs. “I know his secrets. Too many, probably.”

“And your brother?”

Regulus swallows. In all his thinking, in all his imagining, he’d never quite found a way over that particular hurdle. “We’d… we’d make up, eventually. He wouldn’t kick me out. He wants me there. I know that.” 

“What about James?”

“James would be fine.” Regulus answers without thinking, letting out a small chuckle. He looks up to find Pandora’s eyes locked on his, sparkling. 

“And your mother? How would you handle her?”

“Like I said. Charms. I don’t think she knows where the Potter's house is, and by the time we finished with all the wards, it’d be very difficult to find.”

Pandora leans back on her hands. “So how would you do this, then?”

“I would… I would go back to school. Talk to Sirius, maybe, or Potter. Get off the train with them, probably.” Leave the Basilisk unharmed and with promises to return. 

“So, Reg, I have a question.”

“Mm?” Regulus looks up, meeting her glittering eyes. 

“Why the fuck don’t you?”

His thoughts stall. “...What?” 

“You have everything figured out. You have all the kinks and issues smoothed over. You know exactly what to do in any given scenario. You’re smart enough to know it’ll work. So why don't you, Reg? Why not go with them? Why not run?”

“I… can’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “You keep saying that. You keep saying that, and you still can’t give me a single reason. In fact, you just spent around three minutes explaining why everything would work out perfectly.”

Regulus opens his mouth to respond and… pauses. He considers her point. Considers everything he’s just said. “I…”

“Go, Regulus. Get out of that house. Join your brother. Your heart is winning out over your mind.” 

He almost laughs at that, because no. That’s not quite right. His heart is very much already at the Potter’s, cupped gently in the hands of another boy. It’s his stomach that’s tingling with nerves. 

“I… I wouldn’t know how.”

“Yes you do. You just told me-”

Regulus gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. I wouldn’t know how to talk to Sirius. What if Euphemia and Fleamont don’t want me? What if they refuse and I have to face my parents again? They’d know what I’d done. I’d be punished.”

“It’s the Potters. They’re known for their generous hearts.” 

“I just…” He trails off, watching a squirrel get chased up a tree by a small dog. 

“Reg. You don’t want to do whatever the Dark Lord has asked you to. Really, really don’t, because you wouldn’t have asked for help if there was anyway you could bear it. Here’s your out. Take it.”

He looks at her and takes a deep breath. She reminds him of the Basilisk in a weird way. They’re both logical when they need to be without dismissing their emotions. They’re both kind. 

He loves them both in similar ways. 

Regulus doesn’t say anything. He stares at the tree, at the dog barking at its base. The squirrel remains mercifully hidden in the leaves. 

“You’re not going to agree verbally, not now. I know. But if you do decide to go through with it, know that I’m with you. Know that you’re safe.” She smiles and grips his arm gently. “Good luck, Regulus.”

He nods, still unable to find words. That kind of thinking, that hope, is dangerous. It’s mislead him before. She hops off the stone wall, waiting for him to follow. “Don’t worry about my mum, remember. She’ll be ok.”

He finds his voice, crackly but there. “How are you? I’ve been talking so much I forgot to ask.”

“I’m fine. I’m… worried.” She dances her fingers in the air. “I don’t like where this war is going. Or what it’s doing to our friends. Barty’s slipping. I know you can see it. And Evan’s following him, because he wouldn't be Evan if he didn't. Dorcas is straying in the opposite direction, which I support, but it’s creating... devisions. So, I'm worried.”

He nods, staring off over the rooftops as they walk back. “I see it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.” She sighs. “My mother is making that difficult.”

“Mothers.” Regulus mutters, sighing. Pandora laughs softly. 

“Mothers,” She agrees.

They’ve reached her door.

Their goodbye is simple, a quick kiss on the cheek from Pandora and a tight nod from Regulus. By the time she makes it to her house, Regulus is at the end of the block. 

The return journey on the tube is a lot quieter. Regulus finds himself missing the press of unconcerned bodies. He closes his eyes, trying to let the sway of the train carry away his thoughts. He tries to leave them back in that park, on that stone wall.

He fails. 

When he steps inside, Walburga finds him instantly. “Regulus. We must go. Now. You shouldn't have gone out.” She moves past him to grab her overcoat and Regulus flinches back against the wall. She shoots him a glare as she passes. “Control yourself.”

He nods and follows her out. He thought he had more time. He thought… well. It doesn’t matter now, because before he can speak she grabs his arm and turns on the spot, apperating them away. 

The stone building where Voldemort holds his meetings is large and lofty, a cold breeze constantly blowing out the candles that relight instantly. There’s a bench in the hall outside the meeting room. Regulus takes a seat and watches as his mother brushes over her jacket and dress, straightening as she prepares to go in. He can still feel her grip on his arm, tight and bruising. He rolls his shoulder. 

“I’ll be back.” She hisses, taking a few steps towards the door. “Stay quiet.”

He nods and stares at his feet, watching as the shadows of other death eaters entering the meeting pass him by. He tries to guess their name by their outline. 

He thinks about Pandora.

He thinks about James.

He thinks about the Basilisk. 

He counts the minutes, counts the seconds. He examines his palms, starting intently at the little half-moon dents that are more scars than callouses now. Despite himself, he wonders if Sirius’s hands match. Maybe if he pulls this off right he’ll get to find out. 

He knows when the meetings end. People start to file out, talking quietly beneath raised hoods. Someone stops in front of him, and he looks up to meet his mothers icy stare. “Now?”

“Now. Up. Don’t keep him waiting.” 

The Dark Lord is still seated at the head of the table, his snake winding around in front of him. “Regulus.”

“My Lord.” Regulus ducks his head. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Your mother said you had… questions, about your assignment. Which tells me you have yet to succeed. So now I ask: Why?” Voldemort’s voice sends a shudder down Regulus’s spine, but he forces himself to answer. 

“That’s why I’ve come to you today.”

The Dark Lord tilts his head, indicating for Regulus to continue. Regulus clears his throat. “Removing the Basilisk’s fangs will ruin her- it’s- trust. It has information that I believe could be crucial to your cause.”

“Our cause.” Voldemort corrects, though his eyes narrow as if he’s considering what Regulus said. “Those fangs are very important. More important than someone like you could comprehend.”

Regulus wonders if the Dark Lord knows exactly how much the Basilisk picked up from their time together. 

“What if we sealed the Chamber, then? That way no one could get in yet we’d retain the information she possesses.”

“What information do you speak of?” The Dark Lord leans forward and Regulus takes a step back. “What has it told you?”

“Nothing of importance, my Lord, but-”

It’s far too late. 

Voldemort’s already prying into his mind, diving straight for his memories of the Basilisk. Regulus barely has time to rip James out of his path, summoning the ocean of calm to wash away everything he doesn’t want the Dark Lord seeing. He offers up bits of the Basilisk talking about Slytherin, about Gryfindor, about her Master's beliefs. He keeps everything about the Dark Lord, about Tom, about the Horcruxes, drowned in the sea. 

When Voldemort backs off, Regulus is shaking slightly, trying his best to keep himself composed. He feels raw, defenses weak. The Dark Lord sits back, sighing. “Bella has been teaching you well, I see.”

Regulus notes the comment for what it is. A threat hidden behind a false compliment. 

He hates it. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“Anything that snake has to say about Slytherin or the old ways has no use to me. It told me everything already. Slytherin and Gryfindor hated each other, he drove him out for the noble act of refusing mudbloods from the school. Anything else the Basilisk has to say can be read in books.” The Dark Lord sets his long-nailed hand down on the table. The snake slithers up his arm and wraps around his shoulders. 

Regulus keeps his face neutral, realizing they met two very different Basilisks. Regulus’s Basilisk trusted him. Showed him Slytherin’s room, his letters, his love. Tom’s Basilisk only told him the necessities, only told him what was safe to tell. Regulus relishes in the burst of warm gratitude at the realization. He hadn’t quite understood the extent of the Basilisk’s trust in him till now.

It only serves to harden his resolve. 

He cared more for immortality, he remembers the Basilisk saying. For Voldemort, blood purity was a secondary goal. He valued protecting his horcruxes over actually furthering his cause. Regulus curses himself and his stupidity. He should’ve realized that sooner. 

“Why is it that you insist on leaving the Basilisk unscathed?” The Dark Lord hisses. 

Regulus forces himself to refocus. “My Lord?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of her.”

“Of course not.”

“Then why the reluctance, Mr. Black? Your mother already provided you with a sufficient knife, yes?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Then why is it taking so long? Voldemort hisses in parseltongue, flicking his wand under the table. He sends a sharp curse directly into Regulus’s shoulder like an arrow, hitting him before he can deflect it. Not that he would if he could- that would only anger the Dark Lord further. He learned that lesson from his parents. 

He stumbles back with a short and sharp cry at the sudden pain. It’s not deep, he can feel that much, and it will heal with a few spells. But God, does it sting. 

As blood begins to trickle down his shoulder, Regulus forces himself to answer. “I- Apologies, my Lord. I should’ve-” 

“You return to school Monday, yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Then you will get it done Monday night. You will retrieve the fangs. You will write to your mother that same night. You will receive a response the next morning with instructions on what to do with the fangs.” 

The words hit him like a bludger to the stomach. 

That’s not fair, Regulus thinks. You said I had more time.

I thought I had more time. 

Instead, he gives the Dark Lord a curt nod. His shoulder throbs.  

Voldemort waves his hand and the snake hisses. “Go. You have your instructions. Do not disappoint me further.”

Regulus forces himself to bow then turn, walking with stilted steps out of the hall. As soon as he clears the threshold he grabs his shoulder with a hiss, trying to stem the blood flow. The emotions he’d been shoving down start to surface and his mind begins to reel.

“What did you do?” Walburga’s voice forces him to straighten up. 

 “I- nothing.” 

“Do not lie to me.”

“It was just a warning. It doesn’t matter.” Regulus keeps his grip on his shoulder tight, praying she’ll let him heal it. His conversation with the Dark Lord leaves something inside him torn, ripping further with every step. 

She turns up her nose, looking at him with unconcealed disgust. “We’re going back now. Don’t drip on the carpet.”

Permission. He raises his wand and quickly stems the bleeding, trying his best to sew the skin back together. It’s shoddy work, but it’ll hold till he gets home. 

He’s still shuddering by the time they land on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. All he can picture is the knife back at school, ready and waiting for use. Tomorrow. Waiting to be used tomorrow. He wants to vomit at the thought. 

“Maman- I-”  His voice is shaky, he knows, too shaky to be proper. 

“What? What is it?” She turns, staring at him. 

He’s standing on the inside of the door, shoes and coat still on. When she meets his eyes he’s hit with a feeling so strong it nearly sends him reeling. He has memories, distant recollections, of when she didn't look at him like that. When her gaze was kinder and all he wanted to do was bury himself in her arms. Was she always like this? He doesn’t know. 

He’s crumbling, quickly, and it’s too late to hide in his bedroom. The Dark Lord's legilimency has left him open and exposed, making it harder to shut everything out as he normally does. 

He doesn’t want to hurt the Basilisk tomorrow. He doesn’t want to drop out of school. He doesn’t want to be confined to this life, violent and dark. 

He wants Sirius. He wants James. 

He wants his mother.

“I can’t do what the Dark Lord asks,” he says, his voice cracking. He doesn’t expect her to understand. He doesn't expect her sympathy. He just needs to say it. 

“What?”

“I can’t- I can’t do it.” Before she can respond, he sinks to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, his back still pressed against the door. He refuses to look at her, doing his best to get his splintering emotions under control. He’s trying to pull himself together, trying so goddamn hard, but everything's slipping out of his grasp. He’s normally better than this. 

Then again, he’s never been asked to do something so hard before. 

He’s not crying, but it’s a close call. He doesn’t understand what's happening. Doesn’t understand why he can’t control himself. 

She takes a few steps closer and he flinches, closing his eyes. Ready for the pain. 

When it doesn’t come, he takes a shuddering breath and blinks. Walburga, miraculously, sits kneeled on the ground in front of him. Her eyes, while not quite gentle, are softer than he’s ever seen them. 

“Regulus,” She murmurs. “Regulus. Child. You think I wanted this for you?” He forces himself to meet her gaze. She continues. “This was supposed to be Sirius’s job. This was supposed to be Sirius’s life. You were never meant to bear this burden.”

The words cut deeper than he expected them to. 

“I want to raise you right, Regulus. I want to keep you safe, all that I can. I’ll do whatever it takes. I am your mother.” Her hand drifts up to touch his curls and he, despite himself, flinches back. She frowns. “But someone has to be the Black heir. Someone has continue the line. And because he left, that’s your job now. I always thought you were too soft, anyway.” The corners of her mouth twitch and the unfamiliarity of the sight scares Regulus more than her proximity “I was right, I see. Much too soft.” She pulls her hand back. “We all have to do things we don’t want to. I never asked for this life. I never asked for this responsibility, yet here we are.”

Standing up, she looks down at him. “Do not say that you can’t complete the task. You can. You will. You have to. It doesn’t matter what it means or how it affects you. You simply haven’t got a choice.”

He stays silent, staring at her. He’s never seen her like this. She goes for her wand first, words later. This is new. She leans forward and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, pulls him into her arms. Every muscle in his body goes stiff, waiting, ready-

But a soothing hand starts rubbing circles into his back and he melts into her, parting his lips silently. She hasn't done this since he was a kid, crying over a skinned knee or broken glass. She used to let him hug her, used to let him cling to her legs as she rested a hand on his head. She does the same now, fingers carding through his hair. It feels- if not familiar- comforting. He wishes he could trust it- but her touch has rotted since then. "It's alright, child." She hums. 

He lets out a choked breath as she pulls back, holding him by his shoulders. "You can handle this?” 

He can’t, of course, but that’s not what she needs to hear. Pandora’s right, is his first thought. There really may be only one way out of this. And then: James will be happy. 

Because he won’t hurt the Basilisk.

Which means he needs to run. 

If not to the Potters, then anywhere else. Away from her.

Hope is dangerous, but it’s all he has.

Walburga has always been able to tell when he’s lying- so he nods instead. She gives him one last long look, something indiscernible flickering across her cold face. “Go to bed, Regulus. Make sure you’re packed. The Dark Lord tells me you have a long day tomorrow.”

He nods again, already detached. Already lost in his head. Distantly he hears her heels on the floor as she walks away. Part of him doesn’t understand why he’s not writhing in pain right now- by her standards, what he said should be considered blasphemy. It’s not right, he thinks. Too easy. 

But she’s right, it’s late, and he needs to sleep. Needs to make a plan. His heart pounds as he makes his way to his bedroom, breath caught with a growing dread that seems to drag everything in him down. It’s hard to fall asleep, most of the night spent staring at the ceiling.

He'll wait till they go home, ask his friends to help hide him. He'll sneak out, maybe even skip the train. He'll find a different way out, one his mother can't track. The Knight Bus, maybe? He'd start on foot, get as far as he could, then summon the bus, and ask it to take him... where? 

There's only one answer, really. 

He'll go to James's. 

And then what? Regulus rolls over, staring at the wall. And then anything, he supposes. 

He spends most of the night wide awake, letting scenario after scenario run on a loop through his head. He doesn't have too much work to do- it's nothing he hasn't thought of before. Something warm hums just under his skin. 

For the first time in a very long time, he's excited to see his brother.

 

---

 

In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming. He probably did, on some level, deep down. 

 

---

 

When he wakes up, his shoulder throbs viciously. He hasn’t had time to properly heal it. He’ll do it later, he tells himself. On the train. While he tells his friends his plan and finds James. He hopes that room's still available. 

He lets his mother fuss with his shirt buttons before Kreature apperates them both to Platform 9 & ¾. He looks for James, as he always does, and finds him instantly. He’s standing with his mother and Sirius, Effie trying repeatedly to get his hair to stay down under her brush. It doesn’t work. 

“Pay attention.” His mother snaps. 

“Yes?”

“I expect good results from your OWLs.” She says. He nods. 

“Me too.” He wonders if he could get on the train now, leave her standing alone on the platform. He dismisses the idea ruefully. His shoulder hurts. 

“Regulus."

"Yes?"

"One last thing.”

He looks at her then, and sees it in her eyes. Sees the glittering satisfaction. She pulls him in, clasping his arms. To anyone watching, it’d look like a hug. Like a motherly embrace, a sick mockery of the one from last night.

Don't, he thinks. Don't do this. 

“If I don’t get a letter by midnight tonight, just know…” Her thumb digs into the wound Voldemort gave him, sharp nail piercing the already aching flesh. Her other hand grips his arm tightly, in the exact place she’s been leaving scars for years. He has to muffle his sound of pain, ducking his head and gritting his teeth. She leans in, venomous breath against his ear. It makes sense why she was so gentle last night. She was saving up. No wonder he thought her touch was rotten. 

Regulus knows what’s coming then, realizes it a few days too late. He’s such a fucking idiot, he thinks. 

“Fifteen Meadow Lane, Godric's Hollow. Sirius’s bedroom is third from the right on the second floor.”

And all the hope he’s been cautiously accumulating, stacking like rungs of a ladder towards a distant safety, come crashing down under him. Its absence leaves him flat on his back, gasping for air. Shattered. 

The threat is obvious. He couldn't have put it simpler himself. 

Walburga pulls back, giving him a sweet smile and tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. The train whistles and he turns, vision blurring. He can't focus on his feet or the compartment he chooses at random. He thinks distantly that Evan might be there, or Dorcas, but he can't see anything other than his feet and the floor. They try to talk to him, whoever it is, but he's far beyond that now. Their words bounce off, lost. He's probably bleeding through his shirt at this point, but he can't feel that either. Someone touches him, touches his shoulder, and he shudders so hard that the pressure of the hand disappears instantly. 

He’d been stupid. So fucking stupid. Of course she knew where the Potter’s manor was. Of course she knew where Sirius lived. 

Of course she’d use his life as a bargaining chip. 

He should've known.

He was never going to get out. 

Forgive me Saskia, he thinks. 

Hope was better left to the Gryffindors anyway.

Notes:

Writing all the hopeful parts of this chapter felt just wrong and out of character but i pushed through it bc i knew the angst would be better for it

I imagine as cold and calculating as reg is even he can’t escape the occasional breakdown in front of his mother

Chapter 37: Saskia

Notes:

Tw in the end notes

Towards the middle of the summer between Regulus’s fourth and fifth year, Walburga and Orion asked Sirius to take the mark. 

Regulus remembers every little detail, of course. It’s not difficult. It’d be harder to forget. 

They were in the living room, their parents and Regulus seated on the couch. Sirius was in the middle of the carpet, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were already blazing with fury. 

“No.” He’d hissed, and Regulus took a small breath.

“Sirius. It’s time.” Orion ran a hand over his beard, letting it come to rest in his lap. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“And you should've known that I will never join him. Never.” 

Regulus wanted to get on his knees, wanted to beg him to just do it, because they both knew what would happen if he didn’t. Instead he watched from the couch, face neutral. 

Walburga rose steadily. “Sirius-”

“Fuck. You.” Sirius backed up rapidly, hitting the wall behind him. 

Their mother advanced, grabbing his wrist in her fist. Regulus could see her nails digging into his skin. “Brat, how dare you refuse us. This is an honor.” 

The waters rose in Regulus’s lungs, choking out his voice. Honor. 

“I hate him. I hate you. I hate this family.” Sirius wrenched himself away from her. Regulus could see the fear hiding behind the fire. 

“Crucio.” It was the first time in a long time that their mother had used it so quickly. Usually there was more debate. Usually there was more build up.

Regulus watched in horror as Sirius fell to the ground, screams tearing from his throat as he writhed.

Walburga lifted the curse and Sirius gasped, choking on his side. His entire body was trembling, shuddering and curling in on itself. Through the convulsions Sirius lifted his head, eyes finding his brother's. “Regulus. Regulus, please, you have to understand-”

Before Sirius could finish there was a boot in his side and Orion stepped up. “Shut up. Take The Mark, boy. Fulfill your destiny. Regulus won’t help you. He knows where his loyalties lie.”

Sirius made a ugly sound at the kick, rolling over. “I have no- ugh- no fucking destiny. I will never be your heir.”

Regulus should stop them, he knew. Before it got too bad. Before there was nothing to stop anymore. But how could he, when he knew the only thing he’d accomplish would be landing them both in more trouble? 

“Cruico.”

Don’t, Regulus wanted to scream, voice pounding against the inside of his head. Don’t.

His mouth stayed closed. 

He closed his hand into a fist and pressed harder, harder, till he couldn't feel the sting. They’ll stop eventually before they go too far, Regulus told himself. They always do. 

Sirius crawled away from her, shuddering. Orion kicked him again, this time in the mouth. Sirius fell backwards, landing on his hard on the carpet. “Bitch,” he spit with as much venom as he could fit into the word. A fair amount of blood came with it. 

Regulus didn’t let up on his palm, clinging to the feeling of flesh splitting beneath his nails. Maybe if he cut deep enough, he’d pass out from blood loss. Maybe he could slip into the darkness and leave all this behind him. 

“Take The Mark.”

“I- I won’t-” Sirius’s body was giving up, Regulus could tell. Shoulders shaking and knees weak. He barely managed to pull himself off the rug. 

“Still refuse?” A sick grin cracked Walburga's face. “Well. Crucio’s are boring. I guess we’ll have to get creative. Start experimenting.” 

She stalked over and grabbed Sirius roughly, thumb pressing into his forehead. He glared up at her, blood dripping from his mouth. Suddenly his eyes went wide and Regulus knew she was in his head. She was a practiced Ligilimens- she didn’t even need a spell anymore. 

While they were preoccupied Orion took a few steps back, standing behind Regulus, who’d risen off the couch. Orion lowered his lips to Regulus’s ear. “He needs to be punished, do you understand?” 

Regulus said nothing, staring at Sirius’s wide, unseeing eyes. He should move. He should reach for his wand. He should do something, anything. It was the worst it had gotten in a long, long time.

Orion placed a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, squeezing. The smell of cigars and leather was overwhelming, bringing tears to his eyes. “Do you understand, Regulus?”

“Don’t-” He cut himself off as Sirius fell forward, Walburga taking a step back.

She snarled, grabbing his hair and yanking his face up. “The Potter boy? He’s who you think of at a time like this? Potter?” 

Sirius spat at her feet. “James.”

“That mudblood-sympathizing bastard. His family isn’t even from England, dirty-” She was cut off as Sirius cried out in anger, lurching forward. 

“Don’t fucking talk about him. Don’t you dare.” He growled and all Regulus could think was: Would he defend me like that?  An awful, evil thought, but one that had been pestering him since Sirius’s first year. 

As if on cue, Sirius’s eyes met his. “Reggie,” he tried. “Don’t listen to them. Don’t do this. For once in your fucking life, stand up to them. Help me. Please.”

Walburga tried a spell Regulus had never seen before.

As Sirius fell back to the carpet, Orion squeezed Regulus’s shoulder tighter. “You can only make it worse for him,” He hissed. 

“Reggie, fucking say something-” Sirius gasped, his words slurred from pain. He was going to pass out soon, Regulus could tell. 

“Yes, Regulus, say something,” his father whispered, and Regulus could hear his smirk. There was a wand against his back, he realized. 

He remembered a promise he made to Dorcas, so long ago. 

Whatever it takes. 

And this. This was what it took. 

“Sirius, please,” He choked out finally, and the world began to swim. “Don’t do this. Take The Mark. They’ll stop if you do.”

Sirius’s face fell, the spark draining from his eyes. “Reg.”

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, taking frantic breaths. His control was slipping. He needed to reign his emotions back in, tuck them somewhere no one could find them. 

Orion smacked him on the back of the head. “So pathetic.”

Sirius’s face crumbled. “Why won’t you help me?” He whispered, fingers digging into the carpet beneath him. “Why can’t you just be my brother?”

And that hurt something inside he didn’t know existed.

Sirius couldn’t see the wand against his back, Regulus realized. He had no idea. “They’ll just curse you more,” he choked out. “I can’t- I-”

Orion leaned in once again, voice so soft Regulus almost didn’t hear him. “Coupe-le.”

Cut him.

Regulus froze, every cell in his body resisting. The water was all around him now and he was drowning, choking on pain and self-loathing.

Cut him. 

“No,” He gasped, and the wand pressed harder against his back. 

“Reg?” Sirius asked from the floor, bloody and half awake. “Reg, you wouldn’t- right?”

So he’d heard too. 

“Do it, boy.” The wand pressed harder into his back, promising further agony. Sirius was staring at him, oblivious to the threat. 

Regulus’s shoulder throbbed. He was just so tired of pain. Maybe he should curse his father, take his wand-

His hand twitched. 

Sirius caught it, face shutting down as his fear turned to burning fury, betrayal evident. Orion pressed harder. “Now.” 

Regulus shook his head, a tear slipping out the corner of his eye. His stomach was eating itself alive, fear gnawing on his ribs. He would give in to his parents on many things, but not this. He wouldn't hurt his brother. 

Walburga met Orion’s eyes above their heads, a cruel smirk spreading across her face. “If you refuse The Mark, then we’ll just have to show you you’re totally alone. No one in this house will ever support you, ever be there for you, ever love you. Regulus. Show your brother how much you care.” She nodded to Orion, and Regulus hated her.  

Orion leaned, if possible, closer. Regulus’s stomach sank. “Imperio.” He breathed, light and airy, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Cut him.” He finished, loud enough for Sirius to hear. 

Orion's Imperio was different from their mother’s. Walburga’s felt like a blanket, a single sheet that held you down and trapped your limbs in some awful smothering weight. It quieted everything, making it easier to focus. Easier to throw off. 

Orion’s was… worse. It settled over your physical body, sure, but then it made its way to your mind. Paralyzing your thoughts and consuming your senses, it left you immobile instead of numb. 

Orion made sure you could feel everything. 

It was the first time his father had ever used the curse on him. The spell washed over him, seeping through every pore and extending to every limb. Nothing was his anymore, not his thoughts or movements or words. He was entirely, totally, powerless, trapped inside himself. 

No, he tried to scream as his wand raised in front of him. No, no, no. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me hurt him.

He can’t take that. 

I can’t take that.

His mouth refused to open. 

“Reggie?” Sirius’s eyes went wide, scrambling back across the carpet. “Reggie, please-”

And he didn’t know. He hadn’t seen. He assumed Regulus was doing this on his own. The thought made him sick.

The water was overflowing by then and he was shocked the room wasn’t flooding around them. He could feel it, pouring out of his eyes and nose and ears and mouth. Swirling and bloody and deadly, and why didn’t Sirius see it? Why didn’t he see that Regulus couldn’t breathe? That he’d been drowning this whole time? 

“Diffindo.”

He’d never really had a choice.

Sirius cried out in pain, falling backwards as his hand came up to clutch his side. Blood began to gush, pouring down his shirt and staining his trousers. Far too much. 

As quietly as he’d set it, Orion released the curse on Regulus. Immediately a swirl of dizziness and nausea overcame him, and as soon as his limbs cooperated he bent over, losing his dinner over the rug. Gagging and gagging till there was only bile left. 

Sirius’s head had fallen back against the carpet, lashes fluttering. His hand slowly slid off his body and to the side, resting palm up. 

Regulus coughed up more stomach acid. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep throwing up till his organs started to come out too. He thought he could sense it, thought he could almost feel his heart detaching from his ribs and rising up his throat.

But then Orion had a fist in his hair, ripping his head up. Tears and vomit dripped off Regulus’s chin. “Disgusting,” Orion hissed, releasing him. “Come on Walburga, let’s let the boys think a bit. Maybe they’ll reconsider.” At the door he paused, slowly turning to stare at Regulus. “Don’t heal him. Do I make myself clear? You are not to touch him.”

Then he was gone and all Regulus could do was stand there, staring at Sirius’s unconscious body on the carpet. His lips were slightly parted, breaths coming increasingly more unevenly. Regulus’s head was swirling, thoughts mixing and dividing until they landed on one thing. 

He was dying. 

And that did it. He moved forward instantly, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. “No, no, Sirius, please-”

He was still bleeding. 

Regulus pulled him up, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him towards the stairs. He was still dizzy from the Imperio but he needed to move, needed to get somewhere Walburga couldn’t find him. 

“Kreature,” he gasped, and immediately the elf was by his side. “I need you to bring me bandages. To Sirius’s room. And water. And dittany.”

The elf looked between Sirius’s body and Regulus, eyes going wide. “Master Regu-”

“Now, Kreature.” 

The elf vanished away and Regulus tugged Sirius forward until they reached the stairs. He tried to get him up the first step but tripped on his hand, falling backwards till he was practically tangled with his brother. 

Tears of frustration rolled down his cheeks as he got his hands under Sirius’s arms and dragged, again and again, moving himself and Sirius up the stairs one at a time. He was gasping at the end, or sobbing, lying on the cold wood of the floor. Gritting his teeth he pushed himself up, grabbing Sirius’s arm and pulling, yanking them to his room. 

The door swung open and he finally, finally pushed Sirius’s limp body onto his bed. The Gyrfindor lion above it seemed to be mocking him, eyes glinting cruelly. “How very brave,” he could almost hear it whisper.

Kreature appeared with the supplies, setting them down on the bedside table. “Kreature would help but he’s been forbidden from-”

“Leave,” Regulus hissed between his teeth, ripping Sirius’s shirt up. He’d apologize to Kreacher later. The cut was deep and still oozing blood, too wide for Regulus’s liking. His hands were shaking but he couldn’t afford the time it’d take to make them stop.

He grabbed his wand. Underage magic was still illegal, but Regulus was long past that. The Ministry never really cared what the Black family got up to. It wouldn’t matter much to him if they did, anyway. “Episky, Episky, Episky.” He ran his wand down the length of the cut, muttering the spell as he went. The skin started to bind itself together, ugly and warped. The speed and carelessness in which Regulus was casting the charm made it all the more difficult to be precise. 

He grabbed the dittany, pressing the leaves against the wound. It would help with the pain, he hoped, but not much else. 

He tried every healing spell he knew, practically begging his magic to cooperate. He needed more. “Sirius,” he whispered, though he was still very much unconscious. “Sirius, I’m sorry, I have to get something. You’ll be ok. I’m going to fix this.” He should’ve tried harder. He should never have let it get this bad.

He stood up quickly, crossing the hall to his room. He tried to keep his steps light, but he was a little too desperate to care. He threw open his bedside table drawer, rummaging through quickly. He found what he was looking for near the bottom. A small potion, dark purple in color. It was a healing brew, a new mix, one that Regulus had yet to test. He had no idea what it would do, or if it would work, but again; he was desperate.

Running back across the hall he knelt by Sirius’s bed, cradling his head and lifting it slightly. Opening his mouth he quickly unstoppered the bottle and carefully tipped its contents down his brother’s throat.

With shaking hands Regulus took up the bandages, wrapping and wrapping until he couldn’t see what he’d done anymore. 

He needed a healer. He needed someone with more capabilities than he had. He needed someone who knew what they were doing.

“Wha-” Sirius made a groggy sound, face pale as his lashes fluttered. 

“Stay down, don’t hurt yourself-”

But the second Sirius blinked awake he was forcing himself to stand, stumbling away from the bed. The bandages began to turn red as the cut beneath them started to tear itself open. “S-stay the fuck away from me.” He hissed, nearly tripping on himself. 

Regulus’s heart cracked. “No, Sirius, I’m sorry-”

“You- fuck. You didn’t do anything to stop them. You- you bloody cut me.” Sirius pressed a hand against his torso, holding tight. 

Regulus’s stomach sank. Did he really think Regulus had a choice? “No, I was-”

“I can’t- ah.” Sirius bent double, gripping his side. His face was broken open, betrayed and angry. No, furious. Desperate. 

Regulus felt much the same, actually. 

“I can’t be here,” Sirius gasped. “I have to leave. Stay back. Stay away from me.”

The words hit Regulus like a bludger. “What? No, just wait. Let me help.” His emotions were written all across his face, spilled out like paint on a canvas. He hated it, but he’d long ago promised he wouldn’t shut down in front of Sirius. 

“You cut me. Fuck you. Fuck you and this whole family.” Sirius took another stumbling step back. That’s when Regulus noticed the open window behind him. 

He’s actually going to go, he thought as the stark reality of the situation crashed down on him.

He’s actually going to leave me. 

“I didn’t have a choice, you have to believe me. Please, just stay. Please. You’re hurt. I saved you.” Regulus moved forward, taking another gasping breath. 

“The only thing I needed saving from was you.” Sirius grabbed the edge of the window to steady himself, face white with pain. “I have to leave.”

“You don’t understand. It was a mistake-”

“No.” Sirius shook his head violently. “No, the mistake was all mine. I should never have trusted you. I can’t believe I thought you weren't one of them.” He swallowed, and Regulus could see the tears in his eyes. “I saw you go for your wand when he told you the first time. And I felt you cut me the second.”

“What- just fucking listen to me!” Regulus hissed. 

Sirius glanced around, as if waiting for the sound of their mother's footsteps on the stairs. “Shut up. And I’m done listening, Reg. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

“Sirius, let me explain-“

“No. I despise you.” Sirius gripped his side tighter. He didn't mean it, but Regulus was beyond caring. 

"Fuck you."

Sirius’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent. 

It was so easy for Sirius to believe that Regulus would hurt him, he thought. So fucking easy. Something inside him was starting to deflate, adrenaline leeching out of him. “Where would you go?”

A cruel smirk lifted the corners of Sirius’s mouth, though his eyes betrayed him. “My brother’s.”

Regulus felt himself shut down at that, last shreds of emotion circling and slipping down the drain. Numb. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Regulus found the door in his head; blew off some dust. Cracked it open. Sirius taught me this, he thought distantly. There was some sort of sick irony to that. Every emotion, every feeling, every thought, he shoved inside. He didn’t care.

Didn’t care that it was his wand that had nearly killed his brother. 

Didn’t care if Sirius lived or died.

Didn’t care if he left or stayed. 

It was easier that way.

Sirius sat on the windowsill, staring at him with fiery eyes. “I- I thought you were better than this.”

Regulus tipped his chin up, saying nothing. Feeling nothing. There were still tears on his cheeks, but that hardly mattered now. Keeping his face ice cold, he nodded. “Poor judgment, I guess.” He said, and a wall slid the rest of the way down between them. 

There was one last look, long and searching, from both parties. Fire on ice. Trying to find some rudimentary bind to fall back on, some saving grace. They both came up empty. 

With that, his big brother swung himself over and disappeared out the window. 

He left two bloody handprints on the sill. 

 

---

 

“Moony?” 

Remus gulps, still holding the empty vile in his hand. James, Sirius, and Peter are all crowded around, waiting with bated breath. 

“How’s it taste?” James asks, still mildly concerned Snape poisoned the thing. 

“Fucking awful, wow.” Remus makes a face and tosses the bottle across the room. 

“Do you… feel any different?” Sirius reaches out and pokes Remus’s cheek. Remus affectionately swats his hand away, still grimacing. 

“I feel like I want to vomit. Other than that, no. I don’t think I’m supposed to. Am I?”

Peter pulls out his book again, flipping to the page on the potion’s after-effects. “No. Not yet. You’re good.”

“If you do feel something, say something. I don’t trust Snape.” Sirius picks up the bag, still mostly full with small vials. He opens it suspiciously, peering inside. 

“I don’t either. But I trust Slughorn, I think. And he says they aren’t poisoned, so…” Remus pulls a face and sticks out his tongue. “It certainly has an aftertaste.”

James grins. “This is gonna be fun to watch each month.” 

“Gah.”

“Stop praying on Remus’s misfortune. This is better than going full wolf.” Sirius pats Remus on the head. Remus sends him a pleading glance that James is fairly certain Sirius doesn’t catch. 

They’ve just got off the train, still unpacking in the dorm. Though, as Sirius points out, it feels slightly pointless since they're leaving in a week anyway. 

“Ok. Well. You have two days to drop dead.” Peter glances up to check the moon-phase calendar they hung up 3rd year. 

“If that happens, I expect one of you to kill Snape as revenge.”

“I’ll do it,” All three Marauders volunteer.

“Sometimes you lot make me feel bad for Snivileus.”

“Impossible.” James smiles. “Should we go get some lunch? You wanna wash that down with something?”
Remus nods gratefully and they all rise. 

“How was your time home anyway?” Peter asks, nodding to James and Sirius. 

The two of them exchange a tense look. Sirius doesn’t know about James’s little meltdown and he doesn’t need to. The will was enough. “Um… it was fine. Just a little… I don’t know.”

James nods in agreement, bumping his shoulder gently. “It was fine.”

The great hall is half-empty, most kids still in their dorms. James glances at the Slytherin table, unable to help himself. Regulus isn’t there. Pandora is though, despite it being the wrong house, and she's bent over, speaking in hushed tones to Rosier across the table. There’s something on her face James doesn’t like. None of his business, he tries to remind himself. It doesn’t matter. 

Barty and Dorcas enter then, crossing the Great Hall determinedly. They slide in next to Pandora and join the conversation, Dorcas’s brows furrowed and Barty’s lips pinched. 

Pandora looks up and catches James staring, giving him a worried look that only furthers his confusion. 

He tears his eyes away, focusing back on his plate in front of him. Anxiety eats away at his appetite. On this, on Regulus, he decides to trust his gut. And his gut is telling him something is wrong. “I have to go.” He murmurs, meeting Remus’s eyes across the table. He watches as he glances over to the Slytherins and back, nodding.

“Ok.”

“What? Where?” Sirius frowns at the both of them. 

“I- er- forgot something in my dorm.”

“Oh. Sure mate. Go.”

James nods and slips off with no further discussion, crossing the hall quickly. He meets Pandora’s eyes one last time, and, as if she knows what he’s thinking, she gives him a determined nod before turning back to her friends. 

He finds the map in his trunk, right where he knew it would be. Regulus's name, as he suspected, isn’t on it. Which could mean two things: either he’s in the Room or he’s in the Chamber, but it’s still early, so…

He grabs his wand and tucks the map in his back pocket, setting off for the Come and Go room. 

When he finally opens the door, he finds a new addition. A bed has replaced the couch, large and comfortable set against the same wall. 

He smirks. 

Then he notices Regulus sitting on it, cross-legged right in the middle. His eyes are slightly unfocused, staring at the bed sheet. Lost in thought. What concerns James the most, though, is the stain on the shoulder of his white shirt. Dark and red, it’s obviously blood. 

He shuts the door quickly and crosses to him immediately, stomach sinking. “Reg? Regulus, what happened?”

Reg’s eyes snap up to meet his, not quite clear but getting there. Focused. “What?”

James gives him an incredulous look, climbing up the bed to kneel across from him. “Your shoulder. Fuck, Reg.”

“Oh? Oh, yeah. It’s fine. Hi.”

“Hi. I need to look at it, ok?”

“Ok.” Regulus’s voice comes out slightly despondent, just barely there. James’s heart clenches. 

He carefully undoes the buttons of Regulus’s shirt, slipping it off his skinny shoulders. It sticks a bit to the wound waiting beneath, dried blood fastening it to the skin. 

It’s dark and ugly, obviously poorly healed. It doesn’t look deep but it does look painful, the skin around it stained an infectious red. 

“Regulus.” James breathes, staring at the wound. “What happened? Did she do this?”

“No.”

“Then who-”

Regulus reaches up to grip his shoulder, palm pressing against the cut. He hisses in pain, eyes closing briefly. He’s pressing too hard, James realizes. Squeezing too tight. “The Dark Lord.” Regulus responds finally, releasing his shoulder after a second. 

James goes cold. “What?”

“It’s fine now.”

“It’s not. You’re bleeding all over your shirt. Can I- can I help? You don’t have to do anything, love.” 

Regulus nods distantly and James immediately slips off the bed, going to the Potions table where he knows he’ll find water and a rag. He could try and use magic but he’s not sure he knows enough yet, and anyway, he wants to be gentle with him. 

“This might sting, but it’s going to help, alright?” 

Again, Regulus nods, and James uses the wet rag to carefully clean out the wound. Gentle swipes that he tries to keep as light as possible. Water drips and runs down Regulus’s chest, making the skinnier boy shiver. “Your friends are worried, I think.”

Regulus hums vaguely. “Dora might be.”

“You did come in covered in blood. Why didn’t you glamour it? Not that you should, just… it’s odd, for you.”

Reg winces as James presses particularly hard over a bloody spot. “No point.”

That doesn’t make sense. 

James looks him over for any other injuries and… 

Freezes. 

His hand holding the rag stills, and Regulus catches it, brows furrowing. Before he can comment, though, James pulls himself together. Entire body stiff, he forces himself to finish cleaning the wound, bringing out his wand and trying to do a better job of mending the skin than whoever got there before him. 

And once that’s done, once he’s sure Regulus is safe, he lets himself take a gasping breath, dropping the wand. “Regulus. Reg.” His voice is shaky, he knows. 

“Hm?”

“Regulus.” James clenches his hands in the sheets under them. “What’s on your arm?”

“What?”

“Your arm. Your shoulder. Those scars. What are they?” The scars in question are small and straight, little white lines that cover his entire upper arm. How had he never noticed them before? How had he never felt them under his fingers? He’d held him so many times. Touched him so many times. 

“Shit.” Regulus curses quietly, not meeting James’s eyes. 

“You need to tell me, Reg. You need to tell me.”

Regulus says nothing and James swallows. “Are you hurting yourself? If you are, we can figure it out, we can talk-” James’s heart is beating too fast in his chest. 

“No. It’s not like that.” Regulus shakes his head, eyes still a little unfocused. There’s something very, very, wrong, James realizes. Something deeper than the cuts on his shoulder. “It’s my mother.”

When James finds his voice, it’s little more than a whisper. “Are those tally marks, Regulus?”

Distantly, the other boy nods. 

James feels like he might throw up. 

“Why?” He hisses, voice scratchy. 

“I’m a coward,” Regulus whispers at the sheets. 

“Regulus. Please. Just talk to me, ok?” He’s close to begging now, because he needs to know. 

“Everytime I’d let Sirius take a punishment for me, I earned a mark.” Regulus nods dismissively to his shoulder. “Evidently, I never really learned.”

Ice floods James’s veins.

He gets up, hands tightened into fists. He wants to punch something. Wants to cut something. Wants to make Walburga hurt. 

He paces the room instead, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. When he looks back, Regulus still has his eyes trained on the sheets below him. 

He takes a few shaky breaths, trying to calm down. His anger is not what Regulus needs right now. “How long has she been doing this?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus studies his hands, turning them over and back again. “A while.”

James hisses a curse through his teeth, running a desperate hand through his hair. He’s burning, he’s fairly certain, actually burning from the inside out. 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt anger this all-consuming before. 

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Regulus looks away, jaw tight. “You’re mad.”

James sighs, bites his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut. Drops his hand. “Not at you.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you mad?” Regulus still won't look at him, eyes burning. “I didn’t tell you.”

James shakes his head. “No- I- you didn’t have to, love. You could’ve told me whenever you were ready.”

“Sirius knows.” He’s still bitter, and James can’t figure out why. 

“Well, I assumed…” But he trails off, because why hadn’t Sirius ever mentioned this? Why had he never brought it up? Shame, maybe, but James always thought Sirius told him everything. 

“No. He didn’t always know. I told him maybe a month ago?”

Well. 

Wait.

James remembers Sirius curled in on himself on the astronomy tower, gasping through his tears. That would destroy him. “Oh. Oh.”

He sinks to the bed in front of Regulus, catching his hands in his own. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be.”

James can’t look at his shoulder. Can’t look and can’t tear his eyes away when he finally does. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers. 

“Sirius is your best friend. I let him get hurt for me- I-” Regulus shudders, and it takes a moment for James to realize he’s shivering. 

Quickly he strips off his shirt, tugging it over Reg’s head before he can protest. “Does she still… do this?” tentatively he reaches out, cupping Regulus’s now sleeved shoulder. 

Reg leans into the contact, letting out a breath. “No. Not since- well. One time, after, actually, but that was only when she saw my boggart.”

James frowns. “Which is…?” (He knows, of course, but this is something he thinks Regulus needs to tell him himself.)

Regulus looks away. “Sirius’s…” He trails off, blinking. He suddenly goes deathly pale, all the color draining from his face. “She knew,” he whispers hoarsely. “She saw. Of course.” he pitches forward, burying his head in his hands. “My worst fucking fear and she used it to….”

“Reg? Hey, hey, what did she do? What are you talking about?” James grabs his shoulders, pulling him up. There are no tears in Regulus’s eyes, just a complete and utter hopelessness. It scares him.

Regulus shakes his head and leans forward, pressing his forehead into James’s shoulder. “I don’t…”

“Ok.” James ducks down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Ok. C’mere.” Gently he wraps his arms around Regulus’s torso, leaning forward until they’re both lying flat on the bed. He pulls him in, a hand running through his hair. The pressure of his body is warm and James wants nothing more than to envelope him, to wrap him in his arms and put all his broken pieces back together. To seal his body to James’s, to permanently fuse every emotion, every thought, to his own. 

Because he’ll take it. Everything Regulus does, everything he regrets, everything he hurts, James will take it. He’ll make it his own, bear it alongside him. He wants to feel it all. He wants to forgive it all. Wants them to be one and the same, their souls and bodies and thoughts meshed together, inescapably tangled, because that way Regulus would always be with him. 

He holds him tighter, kisses him harder. Relishes in the way Regulus relaxes against him, leaning into his body. 

Yes love, he thinks. Rest a while. Leave your heart to me. I can be gentle.

He’s always felt his emotions too strongly. And right now, they’re threatening to drown him.

Regulus reaches up, head still pressed into James’s chest, and runs a hand over the nape of his neck. Slips it down his back before sliding it back up and tangling it in his hair. “I don’t understand.” He whispers, and James pulls him tighter still. 

“Hm?”

“You’re supposed to hate me.”

James shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to hear, only wants to feel Regulus’s body against his own. “I just want to be with you.”

Regulus shivers in his arms. “That’s what I don’t understand.” His voice is barely audible, but James hears him. He’ll always hear him, he thinks, no matter how quietly he speaks.

“It was never a choice,” He whispers back, slotting his legs in between Regulus’s, drawing their bodies closer. Maybe if he can tangle their limbs together he can manage their souls as well.  “And if it was, I’d choose you. Of course I would.”

Regulus goes quiet, and James focuses on the rise and fall of his chest against his own. Everything is gentle, soft. 

Regulus breaks the silence first, voice barely anything against the still air. “I… I don’t think I’m good, James.”

“You are.”

“I’m not, though.” Regulus murmurs. “Sometimes- sometimes I feel like the devil’s greatest ally. Sometimes I think he’s trying to find me, to drag me back down where I belong. It feels like all I do is his biding.”

James lets his hand wander up, cupping Regulus’s cheek. His skin is smooth under his palm. “If the devil is after you, he’ll want me just as much.”

“Why’s that?”

“I love you.”

Regulus’s eyes flutter closed. “I suppose there’s no greater sin.”

“For you I would burn, Regulus Black.”

He already is, really. He has been for a while.

Regulus tilts his head up, staring at him with an indiscernible look in his eyes. “I know,” he whispers after a moment. “That’s the problem.”

After that it’s quiet for a long, long time. 

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

James’s soul cracks and rearranges, making space for those four words. He doesn’t say anything else. 

Neither of them do.

 

---

 

“Can I use your lab, Sir? I just need to brew something quickly.”

Slughorn looks up from his desk, peering at him over his reading glasses. “Oh! Regulus. Of course, my boy. Take all the time you need.”

Regulus nods in lieu of a response and quietly shuts his office door, turning back to the potions classroom. He crosses to the lab quickly, setting up his supplies in precise, practiced motions.

There’s a quiet buzzing in the back of his head, a monotonous hum that blocked out everything unnecessary. Like feelings. Or emotions, the pesky things. It’s been there since the train, leaving him distant and detached. 

He could probably do this with the lab in the Come and Go room, but he doesn’t want to. That’s a place for healing, for cures, for James. He refuses to corrupt it. 

The sleeping draught doesn’t take long. He’s brewed it so many times this past year, though never this strong. It smells like lavender and valerian. It smells like James. 

The buzzing grows louder. 

He pours the potion into a jar and tucks it in his bag, closing his eyes briefly. He should probably eat something. He skipped breakfast and lunch. He still has to stop by the kitchens anyway. He could always wait till dinner was served, of course. But there’s no time, and he’d hate to keep his mother waiting. 

Regulus cleans up and leaves with no further debate, letting the door slam shut on his way out. 

 

---

 

Hello? Are you awake? Regulus takes another step into the chamber, fingers tight on the strap of his bag. 

There’s a hissing sound then the Basilisk slithers out of her tunnel, eyes firmly shut. She’s done that for about a month now, coming out with her eyes already closed so Regulus can cast the swelling curse without waiting on top of the statue. Setting his bag down, he pulls his wand. 

When he’s done and she can no longer see, Regulus can’t bring himself to move. Can’t bring himself to talk. 

What happened? The Basilisk asks. I smell blood. And fear. And… something else.  

Regulus’s stomach twists. I don’t want to talk about it.  

Ok. How long do you have before you have to go? 

Regulus smiles softly, though she can’t see it. As long as I can, he whispers. I’ll stay with you as long as I can tonight. 

Good. Come sit. Talk to me. 

Regulus walks over with stilted steps, settling down next to her on the ground. He leans against her body gently, running a hand over her smooth scales. How was your weekend?

You know. The same as it always is. I slept, I ate, I waited. The Basilisk tips her head. What about you? Did you talk to Tom? Did you get out of his plans?

Regulus smiles weakly, still stroking her side. He never wants to stop. Yeah. Yeah, I got out. You were right. I just had to talk to him. 

If the Basilisk catches the lie, she doesn’t comment. 

Regulus swallows, continuing. I- I did some research into Horcruxes.

Oh?

Yeah. It’s very powerful magic, it seems. He studies his hands. Very dark. 

That’s what he said. The Basilisk let out a sound reminiscent of a sigh. I told him not to do it. I said it would destroy him. 

And?

It seems like I was right, from what you tell me. The Basilisk shivers under Regulus’s hand. After I said that, he cut and left me. So I guess it destroyed me instead.

Regulus brings his free hand up to press against his mouth, taking deep breaths through his nose. I’m sorry. 

We both know your apologies will do nothing. I’ve had time, Little Prince. The pain has long since numbed. 

Regulus looks down at the cool marble. How ? 

How what?

How do you… numb it? The pain?

The Basilisk hums and Regulus can feel it throughout her whole body. Are you asking for yourself?

Regulus pauses, and his silence seems to be answer enough. Like I said. Time, Little Prince. Something you have much of. 

Regulus looks up to the ceiling, hand tracing circles on her scales. In the past, Regulus has told the Basilisk nearly everything. It's easy, talking to someone that literally can’t communicate with anyone else. And she doesn’t seem to judge- just thinks. No unnecessary emotions, just logical conclusions. He does his best not to keep secrets from her. 

Well. 

Except. 

Regulus shakes his head and brushes that thought aside, resting back against her body. There’s still one thing he has yet to tell her about, though. And he should. He wants to, before…

Before.

Did I ever tell you what happened to my brother? 

The Basilisk stiffens slightly, as if she can sense the weight of the question. No. Not really. 

Regulus lets his eyes drift close. He does his best to work through the way his throat tightens, as it does every time he starts to think about that night. He needs to tell her. God, he needs to tell someone. The words have been clawing at the back of his lips for nearly a year. 

My parents wanted him to join The Dar- Tom Riddle. He said no, of course. I don’t know what they were expecting. He shakes his head bitterly. That’s a lie. I know exactly what they were expecting. What I don’t understand is why they thought it’d work. 

He refused? The Basilisk asked softly. 

Yeah, Regulus wants to smile. Wants to laugh. He can’t. He refused. And they didn’t like that. So- they punished him. And… and he asked me to help. Regulus bends over slightly, stomach clenching. It’s where he always feels his guilt the strongest. He begged me to stop them, to help him, anything. He blinks quickly. 

And what did you do?

I told him to get the mark. Regulus rasps, voice choked and thick. I told him to do it. I thought- I thought that would make them stop. I thought I was helping. 

You were afraid. The Basilisk doesn’t ask; it’s not a question. 

Regulus nods. I was afraid, he whispers, and furiously swipes at his eyes. It’s all coming apart inside him, memories and long buried emotions rearing their ugly heads.  

The Basilisk moves slowly, curling her body a bit more. Bending around him, just slightly, just enough for him to lean into her. She’s comforting him, he realizes. The thought makes everything ten times worse. And then?

And then- and then they asked me to cut him.

Oh. The Basilisk goes quiet, waiting. It’s a silent question, one that hangs in the air around them and creeps around Regulus’s throat, choking him like a noose. 

I did. He manages eventually. I hurt him. I was- I was so afraid.  

The Basilisk takes a deep breath that Regulus can feel under her skin. He shakes his head. There was- there was a lot of blood. He almost died. He thinks about how Sirius looked on that carpet, eyes closed and pulse fluttering. 

Why didn’t he?

Regulus sighs, wiping his eyes again. I patched him up. Or, I tried to. I took him upstairs and used every healing charm I could think of. And he woke up, eventually. 

So you regretted it?

Regulus nearly laughs. What do you mean? Of course I regretted it. I never wanted to do it in the first place. I never stopped regretting it. 

You never wanted to do it- so why did you? 

Regulus furrows his brow. I was Imperiod.  

The Basilisk shifts behind him. You had no choice?

Well-

If you had no choice, why would you blame yourself? 

Regulus shakes his head, frustrated. No. You don’t get it. I didn’t even try to throw off the curse. I should’ve done something, before it got to that point. I should’ve- I should’ve done something. 

It sounds like you couldn’t. 

He blinks then squeezes his eyes shut hard. I could’ve tried.  

You didn’t tell him. Her voice is calm and he leans into it gently. 

I don’t see what difference it makes, he admits. He thinks I did it. He chooses to believe that I did that willingly. If he thinks I’d do that then… and I- I mean, he’s right. 

The Basilisk hums, going quiet for a long moment. Are you afraid of your brother?  

Regulus wasn’t expecting that one. He would never hurt me.  

Not physically, you mean. Are you afraid he’ll hurt you in other ways? 

I… Regulus remembers something, pausing. When I first got to school, I wanted to be a Gryffindor. The Basilisk makes a disgruntled sound but lets him continue. I begged the Sorting Hat to let me in. I wanted to be with Sirius and his mates. 

“But you’re a coward, Regulus Black.” The Sorting Hat had hissed. “Why would I put you in the house known most for its nobility?”

Eleven year old Regulus had furrowed his brow. “But- But mother and father want me in Slytherin. I’m being brave! I’m going against their wishes!” 

“You’re more afraid of losing your brother than of your parents. There’s nothing brave about hiding behind another.”  

Regulus had tried to argue, but his time was up. “SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat had shouted, and Regulus’s fate sealed itself right in front of his eyes. 

He got a proud letter from his parents the next morning.

The Sorting Hat said no, he continues to the Basilisk. It said I was too afraid of my brother. He cocks his head at the Basilisk. Maybe you two would get along. 

Me and… the hat? 

Anyway, to answer your question, the Sorting Hat certainly thinks I am. 

So you are afraid, then. You’re afraid of telling him because… why?

Regulus’s stomach tightens. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.  

The Basilisk flicks her tongue. I think it does. I think it’s holding you back. What’s the reason?

Regulus grips his hand into a fist. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. 

You brought it up, Little Prince. 

I’ve reconsidered.

Are you afraid it wouldn’t change anything? 

Regulus freezes, fist clenched. Everything inside him goes still. What ?

The Basilisk hisses. Are you afraid that if you tell him that you didn’t mean to, that you were controlled, that you had no choice, he still won’t forgive you? 

I… that’s not it. But- wasn’t it? Wasn’t that exactly the reason? Wasn’t that what he’d dreaded since his brother woke up on that bed? 

Are you sure? The Basilisk asks.

He’d- I- Regulus thinks about Sirius’s face, broken and begging on the carpet. From pleading and helpless to pure fury the second Regulus’s hand moved. 

Because, Little Prince, if that’s not right, I see no reason for your continued estrangement.  

Regulus leans forward, gripping his knees. Letting his head hang towards the ground, he forces himself to take deep breaths. He wouldn’t do that. He’d understand. 

Then why won’t you tell him? The Basilisk curls her head towards him. 

A tear lands on the white marble between his knees. Regulus stares at it. I…

I’m not saying you should do anything, Little Prince. I’m just asking you to think about why you won’t. 

Regulus’s dread curls in on itself, grief overpowering. What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t understand?

From what I can tell, he’s not like that. You’re thinking like a Slytherin, Little Prince. 

I guess the Sorting Hat made the right call then. 

The Basilisk hisses softly. My Master would be proud to have you in his house.  

And, oh. 

Regulus lets the words sink in as he reaches up, pressing his hands into his face. I don’t… I don’t think he would. 

How so?

Regulus wipes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. I don’t think I care about blood supremacy. 

The Basilisk goes quiet for a moment. Why not? You were raised otherwise, if what you’ve told me is true. 

Yeah. Very much so. But- I don’t believe in it. I don’t think. It’s what I was taught, though, so it’s difficult to… separate that. But I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t think people should be hurt.  

The Basilisk hums. Muggles killed my Master’s family . 

Why?

They didn’t trust magic. 

Oh. Regulus pauses, thinking. Do you… do you think all Muggles should be punished for that?  

The Basilisk lets out a soft growling sound. Yes. 

Regulus closes his eyes gently. I don’t want to hurt anyone, he says again. 

He tries vehemently, desperately hard to ignore the irony of that statement. 

Have you ever?

Hurt anyone?

Yes.

Regulus studies his nails. Sometimes he can still see the white powder under them. Sometimes he still has to resist the urge to rip them off. Yeah. 

Who?

A group of muggles. I made a potion that was supposed to kill them. It didn’t work, fully. I don’t- I don’t think they’ve woken up yet. Regulus keeps himself updated, scouring any and all newspapers he finds for their names. He’s memorized every single one. 

You make a lot of potions. 

Regulus swallows uncomfortably. I guess I do. 

Is that what you’re going to do after school? Make potions?

Regulus thinks about that. His stomach turns over at the thought of brewing more like the one he made for the Dark Lord. But Monty, the cure, James’s sleeping draughts…

I wouldn’t make anything that would hurt people. I would… I would invent cures and stuff.  

You’d be a healer?

Regulus nods, imagining it. Yeah. I guess so.

Y ou’d make a good healer. 

Regulus runs his hand down her side. You said once that your master made potions?

Yes. He was good. I think that’s what he was planning on doing after he… left.  

Regulus nods. Did he say goodbye?

The Basilisk tenses under his hand, then hisses out a long breath and relaxes. No. I wish he did. I wanted him to. I told him he should, if he ever left. 

Regulus casts a tempus charm. 10:38 pm. 

Fuck. 

Why didn’t he? Regulus asks, waving away the charm and swallowing his rising guilt. Everything inside him is fracturing and crumbling, and he’s given up trying to still his hands. 

The Basilisk doesn’t answer, twisting her head to look away from him. Did your brother? Say goodbye, I mean. 

No. 

Then you understand. You still care for him, yes? 

Regulus hugs himself, gripping his shoulders as tight as he can. The left one aches. The things he and I feel towards each other are… beyond complicated. 

But not all is lost?

Regulus thinks of the other day in the corridor, when Sirius jumped in front of that wand before Regulus could even register the threat. He thinks of the look he gave him after, long and searching. I- I don’t know.   

He would do a lot for you. 

Regulus’s heart clenches as he strokes the Basilisk’s scales. And I would do a lot for him.  

The Basilisk goes quiet. Very quiet. After a long minute, she speaks. Are you going to leave? 

Regulus’s whole body shudders, bending and folding in on itself. Everything inside him feels like it’s about to snap. Why would you ask that? He manages finally, voice torn and choked. 

Nothing. You just smell… different. Sadder. You smell like… She trails off, but Regulus knows what she was going to say. You smell like he did. You smell like Salazar. 

He wonders if she knows by now it’s the smell of guilt. 

He crawls forwards on his hands and knees, settling down right in front of her face. He examines the hue of her scales, how they get lighter towards her underbelly. I’m not going anywhere, he whispers, running a hand over one of her swollen eyes. I’ll stay with you as long as I can. 

I have a feeling that’s a lot shorter than I’d like it to be. 

It's time.

He nods, shutting his eyes and stroking her head. His other hand, shaking and traitorous, reaches into his bag. Unscrews the lid of the jar. The air fills with the smell of lavender. He chokes on it. 

God, why can’t he stop crying?

His tears land on the Basilisk’s dark green skin, shimmering and plentiful. She sniffs gently. Regulus can feel the puff of air on his face.

What’s that smell? 

Regulus lets out another choked back sound. He keeps petting her head. I’m wearing James’s shirt. 

He smells like lavender?

He really does, Regulus whispers. He wipes his face, tears still falling. 

You’re crying. The Basilisk hisses. 

I’m- I’m sorry. 

Don’t cry, Little Prince. 

Her tongue flicks out, tasting the tears on his hand. 

And before he can think, before he can stop himself, before he can do anything but follow his mother’s orders, he lifts the jar and pours the syrupy purple potion over her tongue and into her mouth. 

Because the Sorting Hat was right. Regulus Black has always been a coward. 

And he hates himself for it. 

Instantly the Basilisk tears away, head thrashing as she tries to shake off the potion. Regulus crawls back on his elbows, dropping the jar. It shatters and as he drags himself back he catches his arm on a piece of glass. He can’t feel the pain. 

What- what is this? What did you do? The Basilisk’s words start to slur, movements becoming thick and heavy.

I’m so sorry, Regulus says, and then he’s breaking, sobs shaking his body as he pulls himself to his knees. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. 

He digs his fingers into the cut on his arm because he wants to hurt. He needs to hurt. He deserves to hurt. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.

The draught is already affecting her, because unfortunately Regulus is good at what he does. The Basilisk stops thrashing, head still high but chin dipping with the energy of staying upright. What is it? What did you do? 

A sleep potion. It won’t hurt. I made it so it wouldn’t hurt. 

W-why? Her voice breaks and all Regulus can do is shake his head, words caught in his chest.

The Basilisk drops her head towards him. Don’t go. P-please. The potion leaves her slightly disoriented, unable to think clearly as she resists its pull. 

Regulus cries harder, still unable to answer. She could kill him. She can smell him, and she still has her fangs. One drop of her venom and he’d be dead within five minutes. She could kill him so easily. 

She doesn’t. 

And he knows, down to the depths of his soul, she won't.

I’m so sorry, he manages again, because he doesn't know how else to tell her. 

D-don’t leave.

Regulus shakes his head, fingers digging into his arm. For once, the pain doesn’t wipe away the agony. For once, it only serves as a reminder. I’m not going anywhere, he chokes. I’m not going anywhere. They both know it’s a lie. 

The Basilisk’s body finally droops, wilting like a flower. Soft and gentle, she finds her way to the ground. Her head rests in front of him, breathing slow and heavy. Why? She asks. What did I do? 

He reaches out with a shaking and bloody hand, resting it right between her eyes. I’m so sorry, he whispers again, tears dripping from his chin. He doesn’t think he could shove it all down if he tried. No mental door, no room, no ocean is big enough for everything he’s feeling. 

Don’t go, she manages again. Her Parseltounge has always felt so much gentler than the Dark Lord’s. So much kinder. It’s slurred now, thick and heavy with sleep. Don’t go without saying goodbye.

He can’t breathe through his tears. 

Please, Little Prince. Please. 

Bending forward, he rests his forehead against the space between her eyes. He lets his lashes flutter closed and tries to hold back his gasps, for her sake. He wonders if she knows the guilt is all-consuming. He wonders if she knows he’ll never fully be rid of it. He wonders if she knows none of this was ever his choice. He wishes he could tell her. 

But that’s not what she wants to hear right now. 

He can do this for her. He can do the one thing Salazar and Tom Riddle didn't. 

Goodbye, Saskia.  

Her breathing slows, methodical and measured. 

She’s already asleep.  

He doesn’t move for a long, long time. Then eventually, when he has no other choice, he sits back on his knees. He wipes his tears, though he knows that it’ll make no difference. 

He doesn’t take his hand off her head, thumb still running over her scales. Carefully, he pries open her mouth with the other hand, grabbing his wand. 

The stunning curse hits her in the back of her throat, and he watches as her body goes rigged. Since her mouth was open when she was stunned, it stays that way. Her fangs seem to mock him, glinting cruelly. He has to look away, moving himself backwards. I’m so sorry , he says again, though it’ll never be enough. A tear slips down his face. I tried this time, Saskia. He whispers. I tried so hard. I was going to get out. I was going to be brave. 

He looks down at his hands. I was so stupid. I was so so stupid. My- my mother saw my boggart. She’s seen it since I was seven. She knew what it’d take to make me do this. She knew she’d have to use my worst fucking fear. 

He points his wand at his arm, healing it quickly. This Chamber doesn’t need any more blood staining its marble floors. It’s not fair, he chokes out, and sounds like a petulant child. It’s not. I don’t- he swipes at his face with his sleeve. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t.

I was trying to be brave, he says again. Crawling closer, he runs a thumb over her swollen-shut eye. Her mouth is still frozen open. She looks like a taxidermy exhibit. She looks like she belongs in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Every part of him hurts. A few more tears slip down his cheeks. 

He was so close.

So close. 

He was willing to forgo the Dark Lord’s punishment, willing to risk his wrath, all for her. He was willing to try. Willing to push past his fear of him in favor of his love for her. 

Because he does love her. Desperately. Ardently. 

He just loves his brother more. 

With his heart ripping itself to shreds, Regulus reaches down to his shoe and pulls out the knife. 

 

---

 

Regulus learns two things that night. Firstly, Basilisks bleed red, not green. The book he stole from Lupin was wrong in that regard. Secondly, once you’ve got their blood on you, it never really seems to come off- no matter how hard you scrub. 

 

 

Notes:

Tw:
child abuse
vomiting
minor self-harm

Chapter 38: Cold

“Regulus. Regulus, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

There are hands on him again. Evan’s hands. Running over his shoulders and back, pushing his hair away from his face. 

Don’t, Regulus wants to warn him. Don’t touch me. You’ll get her blood on you. It’ll stain.  

Can’t you tell?

“Regulus. Shit. Look at me, alright? You’re freaking me out.”

 The bathroom floor seems to sway underneath him, tiles undulating and rising like waves. He leans into the wall, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Silently, he closes his eyes, letting everything melt away. It does, gradually, Evan’s hands and words, the bathroom’s cold tile and all he’s done slipping into the black behind his closed lids. 

In the darkness, something inside himself clicks into place. 

 

---

 

Remus finds him on the Quidditch pitch, to no one’s surprise. He’s bent over, putting away balls and supplies while the rest of his team heads to the locker room. Remus takes a breath.

“Sirius.”

Sirius looks up, eyes glimmering. “Moons!”

He shuts the trunk of balls, latching it one final time. Then, dusting off his hands on his thighs, he walks over.

“What are you doing here? I thought you hated the quidditch pitch.”

He’s not wrong. “Yeah, well. You didn’t show up for lunch and were supposed to work on our final transfiguration essays before dinner so I thought I’d come find you. If you’re busy…” He trails off and looks away, throat tight. 

Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, I’m free. After I put this chest away, I’m all yours.”

Ha.

“Actually, I did want to find you.” Sirius takes a step towards him. “You’re coming over for a week this summer, right?”

Remus stiffens. He’s done his best, he really has, to forgive Sirius. To move on. But the weight of what he did has settled over them, an inescapable blanket that threatens to smother them the second a silence stretches too long. “I…”

Sirius reaches out and grabs Remus's wrist, effectively shutting him up. “Please? We all want you to.” 

Remus's brain blanks out for a second, because Sirius is still touching him and Remus is a weak man. “Would… would Monty mind? I don’t want to stress him out more.”

Sirius glances down, expression souring. For some ungodly reason, he doesn’t take his hand off Remuss wrist. “I don’t think you would.”

Remus leans forward unconsciously. “What was that look? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” But Sirius is still wearing that expression- and besides, Remus knows him too well by now. 

“Sirius.”

“It’s just- I don’t know if James wants me to tell you, but Monty had us sign his will when we went home last weekend. And, I’m sure it’s nothing, it’s just…”

“Scary?”

Sirius nods, looking down. He finally lets go of Remuss wrist, and maybe it’s wishful thinking but Remus could swear he drags his thumb along the bare skin before he does. “Yeah.”

Remus thinks about Regulus’s cure, which till now he believed to be working. “How’s James doing? I’m surprised he never mentioned that.”
Sirius’s eyes glitter. “Do you ever get the feeling there are a lot of things James just doesn’t mention?” 

Remus’s gut tightens. “...I’m not sure.”

“He’s been weird lately, no?”

“He just seems like James to me.”

Sirius shakes his head but says nothing on the matter. “Anyway. Come see us this summer. Say you will.”

“Sirius…”

“Look, I-“ Sirius cuts himself off with frustrated huff. “I need a distraction. From Monty, and the will. And you… I just… I need you to be there, Moons. Alright? Please?”

Remus takes a breath. “Yeah. Ok. For you.”

At the words, Sirius’s eyes flick up to meet his. There’s a moment of silence, the wind playing with the ends of Sirius’s hair. “Really?” He finally asks.

“Course, Pads,” Remus sighs, closing his eyes. “I’ll come. But I don’t want to just be a distraction from whatever’s going on with Monty. I think that’s something you should face. You know, talk about.”

“Moony giving emotional advice?” Sirius raises a brow. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Remus waved his hand and Sirius laughs, a bright clear sound. Remus digs the toe of his shoe into the grass. “Did he say why Monty was signing a will? I thought he was getting better.”

“Me too.” Sirius frowns. “Or- maybe he still is. I don’t know.” 

“Then why the will?”

Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He says again.

“And James is… fine with all this?”

Sirius sinks to the ground in a squat. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He wouldn’t tell me if he wasn’t. You know that.”

Remus stares down at him before lowering himself down as well. “You two are close, though. You talk about things.”

Except what he does with your brother , Remus thinks. 

“Not really. I mean yeah, I guess, but like… I talk to him, you know? I tell him stuff and he…” Sirius trails off, staring down. “He listens.”

Remus hesitates. “So you haven’t talked about Monty?”

Sirius plucks a piece of grass. “A little,” he says after a long moment. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the will?” Remus asks.

“I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t know if you’d care.”

Remus blinks at him. “Of course I’d care. What? Why wouldn’t I?”

Sirius shrugs, staying silent. Remus touches his shoulder, and the contact nearly burns his skin. He resists the urge to press into him harder. “Course I’d care, Siri. For you and James and Monty. Of course I’d care. Just because… just because you… of course I’d care.”

Sirius stares at him, eyes wide. “Siri?” 

Remus stalls. “What?”

“You called me Siri. You haven’t done that before.”

Hadn’t he? It had come so naturally. “I swear I have. We all have.” 

Sirius shakes his head, his pupils blown. “Not really, Moons. Just you. Just now.”

Remus fidgets, uncomfortable. Was it really that big of a deal? “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I like it, from you.” 

From you.

“Er. Right.” Remus scrubs a hand over his face. He’s flushed again. “Anyway, how’d it go?”

“The weird thing is, Monty… um. Monty left me in his will.”

Remus cocks his head. “Why is that weird?”

“You sound like James.”

“Sirius-“

Before he can finish his sentence, something tears past him, a flash of yellow darting into the middle of the green. It’s a kid, Remus realizes. A fifth year Hufflepuff. Barney Hoff. 

“What-“

A curse shoots by Remuss ear and he jumps back. Whirling around, he finds Barty Crouch and his posse stalking towards them. “Hoff!”

Sirius jumps up, grabbing his wand. “What the fuck-“

“You think we forgot, did you?” Barty’s eyes are the same as always: wild and unfocused. 

Sirius’s eyebrows furrow and Remus turns to mutter softly. “Barney Hoff. He was the one who got in a fight with the Slytherins after the last lockdown.”

Sirius shakes his head. “They might seriously hurt him.”

Remus feels his lips tighten. “Let’s stop them, then.”

“Oi, Crouch,” Sirius calls across the field. “Leave the kid alone.”

Bartys gaze flicks to his. “The fuck did you say, Black?”

Remus looks behind him to where Regulus is standing with his arms crossed. His usually blank expression is ice cold, eyes sharp. 

“Whatever you’re upset about happened a week ago. Get over it.”

Barty grins. “I don’t think I want to. But then again, it wasn’t me he tried to curse. So Reg, what do you think? Do you think we should get over it?”

“No,” Regulus drawls. He cocks his head, tone dangerous. “I don’t quite think I’m ready for that yet.”

Next to Remus, Sirius takes a breath.

“Listen- I didn’t mean to make it into a whole thing-“ Barney takes a step back, hands raised. 

“Shut up,” Regulus cuts him off, voice sharp. 

Remus’s resolve wavers. There’s something off about this. About Regulus. His eyes are just slightly wrong. Too mean. 

“Turn around and walk away. Let him be.” Remus frowns. “Don’t start something.”

“Why?” Rosier asks. “Don’t wanna join in, Lupin? Afraid to get your hands dirty?”

“Where’s James?” Remus whispers, but Sirius just shakes his head.

“We’re wasting time.” Regulus uncrosses his arms, grabbing his wand. “Stop talking.”

For some reason, Rosier goes quiet, taking a step back and nodding. 

“Reg, put your wand away.” Sirius leans into Remus slightly. 

Regulus’s gaze finds his, eyes narrowing. “ I said stop talking.” 

There’s a burning fury there that surpasses Barney Hoff. Something else. Something deeper. 

“Wait-“ Sirius starts. 

Regulus sends the first curse. 

 

—-

 

Regulus is cold. 

Inside and out, he’s cold. 

The injustice, the unfairness of it all surges through him. It takes the shape of anger, icy fury, a destruction that begs to take and take until there’s nothing left to consume. 

Barney Hoff is a good enough outlet, Regulus figures. No one cares what happens to Barney Hoff. 

Regulus certainly doesn’t.

The fifth year falls to his knees, panting. There’s a nasty rash spreading rapidly across the right side of his body, painful boils that threaten to overwhelm him- the result of Regulus’s perfectly aimed curse.

It feels, if not good, satisfactory. It feels right. 

Regardless, a wave of nausea sends his stomach rolling. 

“Stop!” Sirius darts forward, hands outstretched in front of Hoff. “Regulus, leave the kid-“

He’s just an obstacle, really. That’s all. Something in the way. Something to be removed. 

Regulus flicks his wand and Sirius seizes up, going completely stiff. Wordlessly, he topples over. Lupin’s wand starts to move, but Regulus can’t bring himself to care. 

The urge to fight sings in his veins, egging him on. Violence feels good beneath his fingertips. It’s almost a familiar comfort at this point: it reminds him of home. 

He should probably look into that.

Regulus steps forward, raising his wand. Hoff’s under him, weak and unprotected, and Regulus could hurt him with a flick of his wrist. Hurt him like he hurt Sirius. Hurt him like he hurt Saskia.

He could make Hoff pay for Regulus’s mistakes. 

It would be so easy. 

Then a curse spirals past him and hits Hoff in the chest. His eyes roll back and the other boy slumps over, knocked unconscious. 

Regulus wheels around as Evan lowers his wand, swallowing thickly. Regulus narrows his eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Evan shifts. “I’m just helping out, Reg.”

He looks scared, Regulus realizes. 

Barty smirks. “Doesn’t mean we still can’t have some fun.”

At that the Gryfindors spring into action, Lupin yanking Sirius off the ground and shoving him on to his feet, evidently having cast the counter curse to the stunning charm. 

“Regulus, what the fuck are you doing?” Sirius coughs as Remus kneels to check on Barney. 

Regulus ignores him. He can’t even look in Sirius’s direction right now. Even hearing his voice makes Regulus want to scream. 

Do you know what I did? He thinks. Do you know what I did for you? 

The thought makes him want to rip through his own skin and ribs, spearing his fingernails through bloody flesh. He wants to hurt. He wants to feel it. But he can’t, because he still has a task to complete. He still has a purpose. He isn’t done yet. 

So he’ll just have to hurt someone else instead. 

But Barney Hoff is still unconscious and Lupin is still curled over him. And as much as Regulus doesn’t care, he knows James will. He can’t hurt his friends. James would forgive Regulus for a lot of things, but not this. 

He lowers his wand, hand shaking. Barty’s somewhere behind him and Sirius is still watching him with wide eyes. “Reg…” his brother whispers, and Regulus cuts his gaze to him. 

“What?”

“Why…” Sirius trails off, still staring. “What happened?”

Every cell in Regulus’s body retaliates, locking down. He goes stiff, stepping back. Anger burns through him, furious and scalding. Of course Sirius can tell. Of course he knows. 

“Nothing.”

How cruel to reduce it to that. 

“Reg, I think we should go.” Evan says with a lazy wave of his hand. “Unless we want to deal with this, which I’d be more than happy to do, I’m sure our business lies elsewhere.”

Sirius frowns but says nothing. Behind him Barney Hoff begins to stir. The doors to the changing rooms open and Gryfindors start to flood out. James is there, of course. His eyes crinkle when they meet Regulus’s, before sliding down and taking in the whole situation. Lupin crouched over Hoff, Sirius’s eyes wide.

James’s face falls. Regulus doesn’t let himself go soft.

He’s guilty enough as it is- he doesn’t need anything else adding to the burden. 

James starts walking over at the same time Regulus turns to go. He just can’t… he just can’t do that. Not yet. Not now. Not when James looks like that and Regulus feels like this. 

Barty and Evan follow, because the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black has always commanded at least a little respect. 

Someone, probably Sirius or James, calls after him. He ignores them. It’s easy to block them out when the buzzing in his head’s louder than they are. 

He makes it back to the common room with Barty and Evan right behind him. He shucks off his cloak and goes to his bed, charming the curtains closed and sitting crisscrossed in the middle of his bedsheet. He thinks he might be sick, but he refuses to go to the toilet. That would be too easy.

He’s been feeling ill for the past day, actually. He’s not giving into it, though. He’s convinced it's a fake sickness, something conjured and imagined so he has a reason to feel sorry for himself. 

In other words: he’ll get over it. 

His head throbs, and Regulus closes his eyes, gripping the bed sheet. He’s so tired. He should sleep, really. But then again, he hasn’t actually slept since…

Well. 

Since Saskia. 

He might not be winning the war against his body, he thinks as his palms go sweaty. He lays back against his pillow, turning sideways and closing his eyes. 

Sleep finds him eventually, if it can be called that. If anything, Regulus dozes, lost in a haze of headaches and nausea and a burning guilt that surpasses any physical hurt. 

Three AM finds Regulus hunched over the toilet bowl, body shaking as he rests his forehead against his forearm. Swallowing, he takes a deep breath and listens to his heartbeat, reflected by the pounding in his head. He forces himself to get up, wipe his mouth, drink some water. When he crawls back into bed, he thinks about the box underneath. The long yellowish fangs, wrapped and ready for delivery. He wonders if Voldemort expects anything else. Perhaps a bow? A hand-written note?

Regulus blames the tears leaking from his eyes on the coughing fit he tries to smother in his pillow. 

He’ll get over it. 

 

---

 

“Tell me again.” James sits forward on the couch, running a hand through his hair. Remus grimaces across from him. 

“Crouch started it- I think. I don’t know. Regulus cursed the kid, yeah, but he didn’t- he stopped, when Rosier knocked Hoff out. I think Crouch wanted to keep going, but Regulus stopped. Just turned around and walked away.”

James groans, shutting his eyes tight. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. Hoff was the one that tried to fight them after that last lockdown, but I didn’t think… I mean, I assumed they forgot about that.”

“So did I.” James flexs his fingers. “So what changed, then? Why would Reg…” He trails off, because his throat has gone tight and he doesn’t want to risk his voice breaking. 

Again, Remus shrugs. “He looked… wrong, I thought. Really angry and, like, cold.”

“Cold?”

Remus’s lips twist. “Not physically. You know what I mean.”

James does, unfortunately. He pictures Regulus’s eyes when they met on the field yesterday, icy and unforgiving. “Did something happen, then?”

Remus runs a pained hand over his forehead. “That's what Sirius asked too. James, I have to ask, is it possible that he just… is like this sometimes?”

“No.”

“James-”

“He’s fucked up in a lot of ways, Moony, but he’s not- he isn’t cruel.”

Remus’s brows furrow. “He looked plenty cruel when he was cursing Barney Hoff.”

James stands up. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Be car-”

“Don’t.” Maybe it’s mean, but James just can’t handle that right now. “Don’t tell me to be careful. I know him. I know how to talk to him. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”

Remus gives him a long look. “Right. So it only counts if it’s you he’s hurting.”

“No-”

“Then what about Barney Hoff, James? What about Sirius?”

“It’s complicated. He’s complicated.”

Remus raises a brow. “Or you’re complicating it for him. 

James shakes his head, turning on his heels. “Tell me when OWLs results come in.”

Remus sighs, dropping back against the armchair. “Sure, Prongs.”

James lets the portrait door shut behind him. 

He checks the map first, naturally. Regulus is on the third floor, the little footsteps moving quickly. James makes his way down, stomach twisting itself into knots. What should he do when he sees him? What should he say?

“Hi.”

On the other end of the hall, Regulus looks up sharply. His eyes meet James’s, widening. James has to take a breath. Regulus glances around before walking up to him, arms crossed. He keeps his lips pressed together, staying silent. James clears his throat. 

“Hi,” he says again. “Can we talk?”

“Now?” Regulus’s voice is slightly raspy. 

James nods uncomfortably. “Now.”

“Fine. I need things from the Come and Go room anyway. Meet me there in five minutes.” Regulus brushes past him, leaving James confused and alone. He turns to watch him go. 

“Reg…” He lets his voice trail off, taking a small step after him. Swallowing, James closes his eyes. This is something he can fix. He can make this right. He’s good at taking care of people. 

Regulus is no exception. 

Five minutes later, the door to the Come and Go room swings open in front of him. James finds Regulus bent over the potions table, carefully tucking things into a bag. When he looks up, the air around his face flickers for a second before settling into place. James blinks then quickly crosses to him, panic rising. 

“Reg, was that- was that glamour? I thought you said you don’t do that around me. Why…” If he can’t trust what he’s looking at, he can’t trust Regulus is ok. And he needs Regulus to be ok. 

Regulus swallows, looking away. “I’m fine.”

“Drop the glamour then.”

After a moment, he does. He’s not covering anything drastic, which James counts as a good sign. There’s no blood, no bruises. But he does look awful. So tired, with dark circles underlying each eye. His face is pale, lips chapped with a sickly flush high on his cheekbones. 

James furrows his brow. “Oh, love, what happened?”

“Nothing.” Regulus runs a hand over his face, taking a shaky breath. “What did you want to talk about?”

James grimaces. “What do you think?”

Regulus turns around, back to the table. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maybe you should ask Barney Hoff.”

Regulus’s shoulder’s go stiff. “He deserved what he got.”

The words hurt more than he’d like to admit. “No, he didn’t. You have to know that.”

"I did what I had to."

"In no way did you have to do that."

Regulus shrugs. "What I wanted to, then."

"Fuck that," James hisses. "You don't- I've never known you to want to cause pain."

Regulus leans against the table, as if it's too much work to stand on his own. He slowly turns to face James. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“God, Reg, I don’t know. Maybe that you’re sorry, or you regret it, or you won’t do it again.”

Regulus looks away, swaying slightly. His voice stays monotone, emotionless.  “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“You can’t just-” James starts to say but is interrupted when Regulus starts coughing, putting his other hand down on the table just to hold himself up. It’s violent and ugly, though it doesn’t last too long. When he’s done he wipes his mouth with one hand and grimaces, as though his patience is being tested. James takes an instinctual step towards him. “Regulus, Merlin, are you all right?”

“I’ll get over it.”

“How long have you been sick?”

Regulus shakes his head. “I’m not.”

James gives him a look. “Then what was that?”

“Something I’ll get over.” Regulus says again.

James groans, frustrated. Taking a deep breath, he tries to relax. “Regulus. You can’t do that. I’m trying to help you. You have to let me. You have to let me in.”

Regulus holds his eyes then, steely. “I’m fine.”

“Why are you making this so difficult?”

Regulus takes a step back. “I’m sorry I’m not as simple as your other projects, Potter.”

James shoves down the flash of anger and hurt, trying to focus on what’s in front of him. Regulus, sick and aching from something James can't quite see yet. Regulus, needing his help. “Come sit down. No, don’t give me that look. Come sit down, and we can keep talking. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d rather you do that on the bed.”

After a moment of hesitation, Regulus follows him to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of it, he keeps his hands tucked firmly in his lap. 

“Ok. Ok, good.” James takes a shuddering breath. “Reg, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did something- did something happen?”

Regulus looks away, jaw set. “No.”

“You have to help me here. Just a little. You have to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Regulus starts coughing again, bending over at the waist. His shoulders shake with the effort and James reaches out, gently rubbing his back. At first Regulus stiffens, but then another coughing fit overtakes him and he leans sideways into James. 

When the fit subsides, Regulus stays bent over for a minute, taking deep breaths. He’s still pressed against James, tucked under his arm and leaning into his side. James keeps him there, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. “It’s alright love,” he whispers softly. “I’ve got you.”

Regulus makes a small sound and James feels some of the tension in his back loosen slightly. His shoulders move with his breaths, deep and shaky. Curls falling over his eyes, James can’t read the expression on his face. He wishes he could. 

“This summer, I need to see you.” James pulls him in tighter. “I need to. I’ll find a way, ok? Just know I’m going to try. And I don’t need you to talk right now, because you obviously don’t want to. But I need to know that you're alright. And don’t say you’re fine because you just coughed so hard you nearly threw up.”

Regulus says nothing. James continues. “I want you to sleep, first and foremost. You look like you’ve been awake for days. Tomorrow we go home, so you need your rest. No one can get in here, and I’ll stay if you’ll let me. Then I want you to go see the nurse, though I know you probably won’t.” 

Against him, Regulus nods. James pulls back slightly, and Regulus looks up at him through his curls. He looks tired and just so… sad. James’s heart clenches. “Alright. Come on, love.” They both settle down on the bed, lying on their sides and staring at each other. James smiles and tucks some of Regulus’s hair behind his ear. “Thank you,” he says softly. He knows Regulus is trying. He knows he's only doing this for James. 

“Can… can you tell me about your day?” Regulus asks after a moment. James nods. 

“Well, to start with, Peter decided 6 am on the day before summer vacation was the perfect time to pick up the french horn. And I can tell you right now he’s gifted in a lot of things, but the horn is not one of them. So…”

As James talks he rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He lets his words linger and drift, rambling about everything and anything Regulus would find interesting. After a while he turns to face him, smiling to himself. 

Regulus is already fast asleep on the pillow, lips parted and lashes fluttering. James looks back up at the ceiling, settling in. He wasn’t lying, earlier. He’ll wait till Regulus wakes up. 

As long as it takes.

 

---

 

“Barty! You in here?” Evan pulls open Barty’s curtains, smirking when he finds the other boy reading in bed. 

Barty looks up and Evans stomach flips. Barty’s gaze flicks to the letters in his hand. “What’re you holding?”

“OWLs are in. Here.” Evan tosses one of the envelopes to Barty, who catches it and rips it open with his teeth. 

He directs his attention to his own paper. A few Exceeds Expectations but mostly Acceptables across the board. He hums. Good enough, he supposes. His mother would be satisfied. 

“Ha!” Barty cries, looking up from his letter triumphantly. He waves it in the air with a sharp grin. “Fucking knew it.”

Evan catches his wrist, digging his nails in to keep him still. With his other hand he grabs the OWL sheet, scanning it quickly.

No fucking way.

Barty had gotten Outstandings on every single class. 

Evan looks up, already smiling. Pride blooms in his chest. Barty flops back against the bed, holding up two middle fingers to the ceiling. “Fucking knew it,” he says again. 

“That's- you’re amazing. What the fuck?” Evan throws the paper back at Barty who catches it. “I mean, has anyone ever done that before? All Outstandings?”

Barty shrugs, casual and proud. “No idea.”

“Did you even study?

“Nope,” Barty says, popping the p. “Just wanted to piss off good old Dad.”

Evan sits back, staring at him. The sharp, stinging intelligence masked with arrogance and confidence, obvious if you knew where to look.

“That’s insane. Is he- I mean- will he like that?”

Barty huffs. “I hope not. I don’t need his approval. I don’t want it.”

“Obviously. You don’t think he’ll be even a little proud?”

Barty’s lips twist, eyes meeting Evans. When something as simple as eye contact leaves you flushed, you know you’re fucked. “I don’t want him to be. I don’t need anyone to be proud of me.” 

“I am.” Evan says instantly, sitting back and eying Barty cooly. The other boy goes still, gaze narrowing. 

“What?”

“I’m proud. All O’s? That’s bloody incredible. I mean, I knew you were smart, but that's insane. So yeah, I’m fucking proud, and you should be too.” 

For a moment, the world goes still. They hold each other's gaze, hungry and searching. Evan wonders if Barty’s going to punch him. He’d take it. He’d get off on it, probably, but that’s neither here nor there. It’d be fine, he thinks, if this ends in violence.

His love for Barty has always left him bloody. 

Then hands are on his shoulders, shoving him back against the bed, and Barty’s lips are on his. Bruising, desperate, already moving. 

Evan can’t breathe under him, thoughts stuttering to a stop. And then Barty grazes his bottom lip with those teeth, those fucking teeth, and Evan forces himself to move. Grabbing Barty’s shoulders he rolls them over, because he’s not about to let him win this.

Pinning him to the bed, Evan starts to truly kiss him back. Violent and sharp, just like him. Then their tongues are in each other's mouths and this is all Evan has wanted since 4th year. Evan breaks the kiss to lick at Barty’s neck, mouthing at it till a dark mark forms. He watches as the blood gathers under the pale skin. One day, he'll break it. One day, he'll make him bleed.

Barty’s hand finds its way to Evan’s hair, fisting it tightly. “Don’t say that shit,” He mutters. “Make yourself sound all corny and stupid.”

Evan finds his way back to his mouth, smirking. “Thought you weren't queer.”

Barty releases his hair, hands finding his hips and flipping him again. “I’m not,” he growls. 

“Yeah,” Evan gasps as Barty’s nails drag over his shoulders. “Me neither.”

“Then shut up.”

“Make me.”

Unsurprisingly, he does. 

 

---

 

When Regulus opens his eyes, he has no idea how long it's been. Rolling over, he finds James firmly asleep on the bed next to him. Regulus swallows against the burning in his throat and slips out of bed, watching James for a few moments. He should probably wake him up, say goodbye in case he doesn’t have a chance on the train. But he looks so comfortable and besides, Regulus has some packing to do.

There’s a box under his bed with the Dark Lord's name on it. 

 

 

Notes:

Im backkkk
Sorry about the delay but here we are. it's short but I thought I should just put something out. I wanted to write Reg getting a cold and then James taking care of him but then I was like wait! Reg would never let himself be cared for! so the best James could end up doing was getting him to take a little nap.
hope you enjoyed

Chapter 39: Melting Wax

One time, in the Basilisk’s chamber, Regulus had asked about Icarus. He knew the myth, of course. Greek and Roman mythology had been shoved down his throat since he was a kid. Still, he wanted to know what the Basilisk thought of it. 

Do you know the story? Regulus had asked, and Saskia tipped her head inquisitively. 

The basics, she answered. Icarus and his father trapped in the king's labyrinth. Freedom at a price.

Regulus leaned back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. I always blamed his father, he said after a moment. Daedalus. 

The Basilisk let out a dismissive sound. You would. Over Icarus?

Well, the way I see it, he didn’t know. His father could’ve prepared him better. It was his job to teach him how to fly.

Daedalus tried to warn him. 

Obviously not well enough. 

The Basilisk’s tail flicked. Icarus was the one to reach for the sun. He burned because of it. 

I don’t blame him for wanting, though. Regulus said softly. He imagined the feeling of air whipping through his hair, fingertips warm as they reached higher and higher for something he’d only ever worshiped from afar. He lifted a hand, watching as the dust illuminated by the candle’s light swirled and danced in the air. 

You’d understand, I suppose. 

Don’t you?

I’ve never seen the sun, Little Prince. I’ve never come close enough to miss it. 

Maybe you’re lucky, then. Regulus let his hand drop back against the bed. You’ll never get burned. 

Or I’ll never escape my cell, Saskia offers. Either way, I don’t think Daedalus is at fault. He did his best. He cried when Icarus fell. 

Regulus grimaced. Who would you blame, then? 

Saskia’s tongue flickered out, tasting the air. Why not the one that kept Icarus in the dark? Why not the one who first made him long for the sun? Why not the King and his labyrinth? 

 

---

 

“Did you hear there was another attack?”

“Shh.” James glances around, though no one in the muggle park seems to care. 

“I don’t think we need to be quiet here.”

“You never know.”

“We’re getting sidetracked.”

“Ok. What? When?” 

Sirius shrugs, bending down to pick up an acorn. “I don’t know. Saw the headline on the front page of the Prophet, wondered if you knew anything.”

James shakes his head. “My parents tell me shit.”

“They’re trying to keep you safe.”

James waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

Sirius looks around then lowers his voice to a whisper. “When do you think they’ll let us in?”

“In to what?”

“The Order, obviously. When do you think they’ll let us start fighting?”

“Hm.” James frowns, still walking. “Not till we’re out of school, at least.” 

Sirius bites his lip. “We only have one year left. D’you think it’ll make that big of a difference anyway?”

James snorts. “To my parents? Yes.”

“Maybe we can convince them.”

“We can certainly try.”

Sirius sighs, glancing around. “Where’s Lily and Marlene? I thought they said they'd be here."

“They did.” James frowns. “Ah! There.” He points at a flash of red hair bouncing down the path behind some trees. 

“How’d you know that’s her?” Sirius asks as they set off in that direction.

James gives him a look. “You think I wouldn’t know the color of Evans’s hair?”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that whole obsessed-stalker thing you had going for her.”

“Not an obsessed stalker. Just… infatuated. And that’s over now.”

“Right.” Sirius turns to look at him as they walk. “James, you’re gonna have to tell me eventually.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s actually shocking how little Sirius pushes him about this particular matter. James assumes it has something to do with what happened last year in the shack with Snape and Remus. Sirius doesn’t want to get in the way, doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself. 

“Your mystery boy? The one you’ve been sneaking off to all year? We’ll figure it out, I guarantee, so it’d be easier if you’d just tell me now.”

James’s throat tightens. He wonders how Regulus is doing, all alone in that house. “Absolutely not.” 

“I’m literally your best friend. We tell eachother everything. Prongsss…”

“Nope.”

“If it’s Snape, I swear I won’t be mad. Judge a bit maybe, but I won’t dishone you.”

James grins and shakes his head. “How’d you know?”

Sirius gasps in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “How could you! After our six-year long rivalry?”

“What can I say- I’ve got a thing for grease.”

“James! Sirius!” Marlene waves her hand, jogging to meet them halfway on the path. A frazzled-looking muggle jumps out of her way. Lily, arms crossed, follows her dutifully. 

“Marls!” James grins. “Missed you guys.”

“It’s been two weeks, Potter.” Lily says as she joins them. 

“Yes, but what a long two weeks, Evans.” 

Sirius throws his arms around her and she hugs him back, smiling. “I missed you.” 

Sirius sticks out his tongue at James and James takes the opportunity to flip him off. Marlene throws an arm around James’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I missed you.”

“Aw, I missed you too.”

“Yeah. You said.”

The four of them set off, heading towards the green area of the park. “How have things been?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine,” Lily answers. “Petunia’s in a huff again. I suppose she’ll settle down soon enough.”

“What was it this time?”

“She saw the summer homework I got assigned for Charms.”

“Ah.” Sirius nods sagely. “That would do it.”

”God- she’s just so-“ Lily huffs and looks away. “I don’t want to talk about this. Someone bring up something else.”

“Right, well, me and Sirius were talking. When do you think they’ll let us fight for the Order?” James settles down under a tree and the others follow. 

“Shh!” Lily glances around and James grins at her, familiar warmth flooding his chest. He missed them. 

“Depends on how soon we ask.” Marlene rolls her neck. “I wouldn’t mind getting started sooner rather than later.”

“On the fighting or just like… being involved?” Lily sits forward. 

“Fighting, obviously.” Marlene looks around defiantly, as if she’s half expecting Voldemort to drop out of a nearby tree. 

“You think you’re trained for that?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah, probably. Put me in and see what happens. I feel like I could wing it.”

Sirius cocks his head. “I really don’t think that’s how it works.” 

Marlene raises her eyebrows at him. “Yeah? You gotten in a lot of fights with death eaters recently?”

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know their fighting style.” 

The group goes silent for a moment.

Lily breaks it. “But… some of our classmates are death eaters now. Could you honestly hurt them?”

James’s stomach turns over at the same time Sirius snorts. “Of course. They’re still… who they are.”

Lily nods. “I suppose. Good point.”

Marlene lifts and drops a shoulder. “Easy.”

James swallows. He thinks of Regulus’s face when he first wakes up, sleepy and gentle; or when James brings him bread pudding and they settle down onto the ground to eat together, knees touching. 

He imagines him lying in a pool of blood on some distant battlefield, eyes as lifeless as Sirius’s boggart. 

“James?”

When he looks up Sirius is staring at him, eyes wide and concerned. He smiles and waves him off. “Got distracted.” He tries his best to ignore the way his heart pounds and his breathing picks up. 

“Naturally.”

Lily starts saying something else, but Sirius’s eyes stay on him. James clears his throat and looks away. 

“Prongs- d’you fancy some crisps or something? Maybe a coffee?” Sirius’s gaze is hard and direct. 

“Uh… yeah, sure, Pads.” As James stands up, he turns to the girls. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thanks though.” Lily looks to Marlene, who shakes her head. 

James and Sirius begin to start off across the green to the small corner shop on the other side of the street alongside the park. 

“So what was that about, huh?” Sirius keeps his gaze straight ahead, not looking at James. 

“What?”

“Lily said something about fighting our classmates and you freaked out.” 

James blanches. “I did not freak out.”

Sirius gives him a look. “You basically freaked out.” 

“I just… I don’t know. I don’t think I’d find it that easy to- to hurt them.”

Sirius scoffs. “You don’t think you could hurt Mulciber if it came down to it?”

James rolls his eyes. “Ok, Mulciber, yeah. I could hurt Mulciber.”

Sirius stops in his tracks, cocking his head when James turns to look at him. “So it’s a specific classmate you don’t want to hurt?”

“No-”

“Jesus, James, tell me your little boyfriend isn’t a Slytherin. Tell me he isn’t a death eater.”

James’s stomach sinks. He could lie. Fairly easily, actually, but he feels Sirius deserves better than that. He deserves some semblance of the truth, whatever that may be. “He’s not a death eater.”

Sirius’s eyes go wide. “Prongs,” he whines. “I was kidding about the Snape thing.”

“It’s not Snape.” James chuckles, starting to walk again. 

“Well, it’s a Slytherin, and a boy at that. It narrows down the options considerably.” Sirius does a little jog to catch up with him. 

James grunts uncomfortably because, yes, it does. If Sirius found out…

“Let's just get your coffee.”

“Oh, I didn’t really want anything. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I maintain I was not freaking out.”

“You sure looked like you were. So… your little boyfriend isn’t a death eater, but he’s close? Or he’s on their side at least? Enough that you might have to fight against him in the war?”

James closes his eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Then what is he?”

“He’s…” Partner? Lover? 

None of those sounded right. 

“...not that.”

“Hm.” 

They go silent for a long moment. James feels more than sees Sirius tapping his hand against his thigh impatiently. 

Finally, he sighs and gives up. “What?”

Sirius blinks at him. “What?”

“I can hear you thinking. Just ask what you want to ask.”

“It’s just…” Sirius takes a breath. “Why is that what you like, James? How is that what you like? I don’t understand how you see the things you say he stands for, the things you say he represents, and you’re still willing to go along with him.”

Guilt curls around James’s neck like a noose. Dark and tight, long buried but also ever-present. “He isn’t like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s good. I know he is. He wouldn’t… hurt anyone. He wouldn’t join Voldemort. Not really.” And it’s the truth.

Or mostly the truth, anyway.

Regulus has always been tricky to pin down. Flighty and difficult, James struggles to get solid, real answers out of him sometimes. He doesn’t know what Regulus does when he goes home over breaks. He doesn’t know what he and the Dark Lord discuss when they meet. The fact that they even talk should be enough for James. 

It isn’t. 

The guilt that comes with that thought is overpowering. It’s not fair to his friends. It’s not fair to Sirius. It’s not fair to his cause or the Order. The essence of the notion is a betrayal in of itself. To love him as James loves him, to forgive him as James forgives him, should be unthinkable. 

But Regulus could hold out a dagger and James would walk into it, if only to be closer to him by a few inches. 

He feels it sometimes, the point of the knife, digging into his stomach. Pressing deeper when Regulus refuses to answer a question or look him in the eye or curses 5th years just for the sake of it. Not to mention the Basilisk- that’s a whole other story, one James has pointedly refused to think about. It leaves him feeling ugly and disgusted, ashamed of himself and ashamed nothing will change the way he feels. It hurts so badly sometimes. The pain brings him to his knees.

…Right at Regulus’s feet. 

So James tries to shake it off. He tries to stay angry. He tries to move past it, to take a step back or shield himself until he isn’t bleeding anymore.

The only thing he doesn’t do, ever, is question whether the pain is worth it. 

Because, he thinks as he stares at Sirius’s questioning eyes, it always will be. And James can hate himself as much as he needs to for that fact, but it’ll remain just that- a fact, a truth, something unshakable and unchanging. 

“Are you sure?” Sirius finally asks. 

“Yes.”

“I want to trust you.”

“Then trust me.”

Sirius lets out a breath. “It’s… difficult. I haven’t had good experiences with those kinds of Slytherin’s in the past.”

“What, like Avery and Mulciber? Those guys are awful, but harmle-”

“I was talking about my family.”

James feels the breath punch out of him. Wow. He’s an awful friend. “Oh.”

Sirius offers him a half smile. “You haven’t had Bellatrix digging her dirty nails into your thoughts and it shows.”

“Oh. Oh. Sirius, did she practice legilimency on you?”

Sirius shrugs. “I think technically she was supposed to be teaching me occlumency.”

James winces. “Did it work?”

Sirius looks away. “Nah. I’m not very good at- at hiding my emotions and all that shit.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I thought I’d be better at it- I don’t know.”

“Was this while she was still in school with us?”

“Yeah.”

James furrows his brow. “Why did you think you’d be good at it? At hiding?”

Sirius chuckles, but it turns bitter. “When I was little, I used to have to hide everything so my parents wouldn’t… get mad. I had this whole thing, where I imagined a door to a room where I could put all my feelings and lock them up.” He laughs. “It sounds so bloody stupid.”

“No. No it doesn’t.”

Sirius clears his throat awkwardly, looking away. “I taught it to Regulus one night.”

James’s heart stutters. “What?”

“And he got good at it. Scary good. He hid his emotions so well I’m fairly certain he forgot how to feel them in the first place.” Sirius and James turn a corner on the path, starting to loop around. “It scared me. He’d just- shut down. His face would go blank and you’d look at him and see… nothing.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“I stopped doing it after that. I think it frightened me so much I forgot how. I never do it anymore. I can’t. So I’m not very good at Occlumency. At all.” He huffs a laugh. “Sorry. That got deep quick.”

“No, it’s fine.” James says hurriedly, stomach still twisting over the new information. “It’s good- to talk about it, I mean.”

Sirius lightly bumps him in the shoulder. “All this to say, don’t go trying to see my thoughts any time soon, ok? Cause I’m pretty sure I could do nothing about it and you’d be able to see everything. And I mean everything.”

James gazes at him. Sometimes he thinks he already can, actually. “Yeah, well. Count your blessings. I know you’re thinking all sorts of perverted thoughts about me in this jacket.” 

Sirius dramatically widens his eyes, throwing a hand up. “Prongs, Prongsy, just one chance, I beg of you…”

James sighs and turns away in mock dismissal. “Sorry, my love, but I’m already promised to another.”

“How could you be so cruel?”

When they make it back to the girls, they’re grinning. Settling down, they glance up to find both of them looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Coffee?” Lily asks, and James winces. 

“We changed our minds?”

“Oh well.” Marlene rolls her eyes and flops back against the grass. “It’s odd that it’s just the two of you. I got so used to all four running around as a pack.”

Sirius snorts at the choice of words and James elbows him. “Remus is coming over later this summer, so don’t worry. It won’t be just the two of us for too long.”

Marlene smiles and nods. “Good. I’m glad you guys are back to normal.”

James frowns. “What do you mean?”

Lily cuts Marlene a warning look. “Marls…”

“No, it’s just you guys went through a bit of a rough patch there. What was that about, by the way?”

“Uh…” James, panicked, looks to Sirius, who smiles calmly. 

“I messed up. Pretty bad. But I apologized and Moony listened, so we’re all good now.”

Lily narrows her eyes but Marlene just sighs. “Well. That’s boring.”

James knocks his shoulder against hers. “Sorry our drama wasn’t more entertaining.”

“It’s alright, I suppose,” She sniffs. “It is good to see you guys have finally made up. I'm glad”

Sirius nods, taking a deep breath. “Me too." 

James lays back on the grass, hands behind his head. He gazes up at the tree canopy and beyond to a low-hanging cloud, dark and grey. As his friends slip into quiet conversation James lets himself relax into the sound of their voices, just enjoying the feeling of the grass beneath him. It’s calm, peaceful. 

James can only hope it’ll stay that way.

 

---

 

Regulus sets the box down in front of the Dark Lord, clasping his hands behind his back and clearing his throat. “The fangs, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord nods, reaching for the lid, and every bone in Regulus’s body revolts. His fingers twitch and the Dark Lord glances up. “Is there an issue, Black?”

“No, my Lord.”

With long spindly fingers, the Dark Lord removes the lid of the box and takes out a single fang. lengthy and yellow, its tip glistens in the pale chandelier light. “See? Was that so hard?”

Regulus grits his teeth, looking away. He doesn’t want to see them. “No, my Lord.”

“Hm. How many are there?”

“Fifteen.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrow. “Fifteen only?”

“Yes.”

“Am I to trust you didn’t keep any for yourself, Black?”

“What use do I have for Basilisk teeth?”

Before Regulus can blink, the Dark Lord holds a fang out, its point pressing against the bottom of Regulus’s chin. One wrong move, one twitch, and its venom would be in his bloodstream. He’d be dead in five minutes.

Something in Regulus twists, a burning fury that wipes any sympathy for the Dark Lord clean.

How dare he.

How dare he use the Basilisk’s fangs against him. Saskia’s fangs. As if Regulus hasn’t done enough. As his loyalty deserves to be questioned. The proof is right there, fifteen glistening fangs laying in a white box. What more could he possibly want from him?

“You look angry, Black.” The Dark Lord’s lips part in a sort of gruesome smirk, and Regulus hates him. “Surely you’re glad to serve your lord. Surely you don’t regret what you did.”

He presses the fang a little deeper, forcing Regulus to lift his chin a bit. “Of course not,” he manages through his anger. “Anything.”

“Tell me you’d do it again. Tell me the beast meant nothing to you.”

Don’t go without saying goodbye. 

Please, Little Prince. 

“She meant nothing to me.” 

The Dark Lord drops the fang back into the box and Regulus allows himself a small breath. “If I threw these out, burned them in the fire, you wouldn’t mind?”

Regulus closes his eyes. “They’re yours, my Lord. It’s up to you what you do with them.”

“Ah, but that’s not what I asked.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Mm. Good.” The Dark Lord pulls out his wand, pointing it at the box. “Because I’ve changed my mind. I have no more use for these. “Incend-”

Regulus jolts forward. The thought of them being destroyed, of being wasted… “Wait-”

The Dark Lord’s hand freezes. His snake eyes flick up to meet Regulus’s. Slowly the Dark Lord places his wand on the table next to the fangs and leans back in his chair. “See, I truly do not care about whatever fake emotional connection you made with this creature. You’re permitted to do what you like as long as the end result stays the same. What I do not tolerate, however, are liars. And you, Mr. Black, have lied to me multiple times today.” 

Regulus’s heart shudders in his chest. “My Lord-”

“So tell me, why should I trust anything you say?” 

Regulus pictures the ocean Bellatrix helped him find. He imagines all his anger and guilt sinking below the waves, hidden and waiting. He takes a deep breath. 

“I didn’t want to appear weak, my Lord. My attachment to the Basilisk was naive and shameful. I didn’t want you to see the mistake I made in drawing out the process. The truth is, I am ashamed that I’d give such a creature any of my time. It deserved none of it. I only want your respect, my Lord. I knew I’d lose it by demonstrating how much I cared for her. It was foolish, really.”

The Dark Lord examines him for a long moment. “I assigned this task to you, not because you share my gift for snake speak, but because you are also one of the more intelligent.” He clasps his fingers under his chin. “Are you aware I once knew the Basilisk myself? Awful creature, truly. I don’t understand your attachment. Regardless, I know she’s vicious. She could kill in an instant. I needed someone to get through her defenses. I knew my other followers, such as Crouch or Mulciber, would never have succeeded. And true to my suspicions, you’ve delivered.” The Dark Lord motions to the box on the table. “You’ve effectively demonstrated all you’d do for me. You show promise, Black. Do not throw that away with such trivial dishonesties.”

Regulus stares at him for a moment. 

Oh. 

That’s right.

He thinks- he thinks Regulus did this for him.

He thinks Regulus betrayed Saskia, hurt her in the worst way she could be hurt, for him. To demonstrate his ‘promise’. 

“Of course, my Lord. My apologies.”

“And don’t look so steely, Black. Be glad the foul creature’s out of your hair. Her incessant yapping about this and that got grating after a while, did it not? Always was trying to ask me questions as if we were on the same level of intelligence. Stupid thing, as I’m sure you noticed. Never had an ounce of sense about her. Kept moping about her old “master”. As if Slytherin ever cared about her. She was a weapon, that's all.” Giving what some people would consider a smile, the Dark Lord reaches out and traces a single fang. “I guess she still is, isn’t she? And what a wonderful weapon she makes.”

Regulus digs his fingernails into his palms. 

Voldemort continues. “I tried to shut her up once, went straight for her vocal cords, but…” he shrugs. “I missed. I’m sure you saw the scar, no?” 

He left me with this. A goodbye present, I suppose. He left me bleeding and never… never came back.

The Dark Lord’s eyes flick up to meet Regulus’s, bold and defiant. He’s proud, Regulus realizes. Proud of his work. Regulus’s blood turns to ice, fury starting to eat at the edges of his logic. 

“What are my next instructions, my Lord?” Regulus asks, trying to get himself under control. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Brew potions when I request them. You’ve proven yourself on this mission, Black, barely. I’ll stop by later to have a talk with your parents.” Voldemort tilts his head. “I think it’s time for you to take The Mark, don’t you?” 

The words send a shiver of revulsion down Regulus’s spine. He lets his feelings drown, one by one. He has no use for them anymore. Saskia’s gone. Sirius hates him. This is the next step, this is the answer. This man in front of him, this is his new goal. His beacon, in whichever way he chooses to take it. He made his decision when he took out the Basilisk’s fangs. There’s no going back now. 

“It’d be an honor, my Lord.” 

When he gets back to the house that night, he goes straight to his room. His chin stings from where the Basilisk’s fang dug into him, and Regulus’s ocean of calm erupts. 

The difference between anger and fury, Regulus thinks as he sinks to his knees, is the paths they choose to take through you. Anger simmers, low and obvious, for however long you need it. It clings to your insides, grabbing at whatever weak spots it can find. It’s a virus, a cancer, spreading and consuming and corrupting all things pure.

Fury, on the other hand, is simple. Fury burns through you. Fury wipes you clean. It leaves you spotless, perfect, poised. It’s anything but messy.

And right now, Regulus is furious. 

He thinks of James, tired and worn out from the stress of his father- an illness no doubt incited by one of Voldemort’s loyal followers. He thinks of those ten muggles, still asleep in hospital beds. Sometimes he swears he can still see the powder under his nails.

He thinks about Saskia. 

He thinks about the scar on her cheek, the one that taught her men can be cruel. The one that made her beg Regulus not to leave without saying goodbye. The one that made her voice twist in that specific way right before she went unconscious; pleading and broken. 

Please, Little Prince, don’t go. 

He lifts up his bedsheet, pulling out the mess of blue cloth from under his bed. Carefully he sets it in front of him, gently unfolding and unwrapping until it’s laid bare. He stares, eyes hard, at the two Basilisk fangs laying on the floor of his room. There’s still some blood on the ends, rust clinging to the yellow calcium. 

Another thing about fury: it gives you direction. It gets things done. And since his issues are all traceable, it doesn’t take long for Regulus to decide what he's going to do next. Almost laughable in its simplicity; it’s obvious, really. He’s going to take matters into his own hands. 

He’s going to solve the Labyrinth and kill the king.

 

Notes:

I love the icarus/labyrinth bit because it is both a mythology and John green reference lol

Chapter 40: Dust

Despite his protests, Monty makes good on his word and takes a potion every other day. James sometimes catches him staring at the little vile before he tips it back. His eyes look sad- conflicted about a choice James wonders if he regrets. Yet every time, Monty swallows down the potion with a grimace and a wince and James lets out an uneasy breath. 

When James asks him about how he’s feeling, Monty gives him a sad smile. “I don’t know.”

“How are the potions?”

“They… are working, I think.” Monty looks out the window next to his bed. “I haven't got any worse, physically.”

James nods. “Good. And…”

Monty sighs, a hint of frustration lacing his exhale. “And non-physically, well.” He takes up his wand from the side table and waves it at the glass of water set on the dresser across the room. 

Nothing happens. 

Silently he sets the wand down on the table. “Not great.” He finishes quietly. 

James sucks in a deep breath. It’s his fault his father’s like this, and they both know it. James doesn’t regret it- doesn’t regret making Monty promise to take them- but it’s hard. Watching his magic disintegrate, watching the spark leave his eyes, it doesn’t get easier. 

“I’m, er, sorry.” James looks down. “I wish… I wish the actual healer at St. Mungo’s would do their job.” 

Monty gives him a look. “They’re trying, James. And what do you really mean? Do their jobs better than Regulus Black already is?”

James winces, taking a seat. He knew this was going to come up eventually. “Look, Dad-”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Monty sighs. “Regulus, huh? I guess I owe him too much to be judgemental.”

James shrugs helplessly. “I asked him for help and he… agreed.”

“I wouldn’t expect that from him.”

“That's what I’m saying!” James leans forward a bit in his seat. “He’s not like the rest of them. He cares. He wants to help.”

“And he's doing this for me?”

“Who else would he be doing it for?”

Monty looks at him in a very specific Monty way. James stares back blankly.

Monty sighs and moves on. “Sirius doesn’t know that he’s been helping , does he?”

James bites his cheek. “No.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t that help fix things between the two of them?”

“Not… necessarily. I mostly haven’t told him because Regulus asked me not to.”

Aside from other, more obvious reasons. 

“Does Sirius even know I’m taking these potions?” Monty asks. 

“I’m sure he does. I think he just assumes they’re from, like, real doctors.”

“Huh.” Monty stares at the empty vile on the nightstand. “And how’d he… you know, figure it out? The potions? The cures?”

James shrugs. “He’s smart. He’s one of the top potions students at our school, along with Lily. And… I think there was a book, or something? I don’t know. He got one idea from that. Otherwise I’ve been doing research into the disease, telling him about it, then watching as he figures out how to adapt the potion.”

“Regulus… is still with the Blacks, yes?”

James swallows. “Yes.”

Monty’s eyes glitter. “You know, with everything he’s done for me, I don’t see why he shouldn’t come stay here too. We have an extra bedroom.”

James almost laughs. “Yeah. I kinda… already tried that. Convincing him, I mean. Multiple times. He refuses.”

Monty tips his head in understanding. “Ah.”

James bits his lip. “He’s scared, I think. I’m not entirely sure what- I mean, Sirius was fine when he left so…”

Monty gives him a sad smile. “You think Walburga and Orion would let their second child go so easily? After what happened with their first?” 

“Are you on Regulus’s side in this?” James asks, frowning. 

“No. But I understand. Sirius was the heir, James. But he wasn’t their only child. So when he left, it wasn’t the end of the world. They had an extra. They had a replacement.” Monty leans forward on his pillows. “But that’s it. Regulus is where it ends. After him, there’s no one to continue the legacy. Sirius used that to his advantage, even if he didn’t know it.”

James opens his mouth but Monty just continues. “You and I both know how awful Walburga and Orion were to Sirius. I imagine they’re better to Regulus, but only because they need him on their side. As long as he knows he’ll always have a room here, I don’t think there’s much more you can do.”

James shakes his head, the age old anger building in his gut at the thought of Walburga and Orion. “I’m not going to stop trying.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get him out.”

Monty doesn’t say anything for a long minute, gaze searching and sad. “He… he means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

James doesn’t know how to respond to that. “He’s saving you,” He says finally, and tries to ignore the way his voice cracks. “How could he not?”

Monty lets out a long breath, looking back to the potions on his table. “Sometimes I worry your heart is too big for your own good.”

“I don’t- he’s- he’s not like his family.”

“Then why haven’t you told Sirius that he’s the one really making these potions?”

“Neither of them understands the other. If they’d just talk… ”

“Why don’t they?”

James clenches his jaw. “Regulus blames Sirius for leaving, Sirius blames Regulus for staying.”

“And that scar on Sirius’s chest?” 

James sucks in a breath. “That’s- that’s not fair.”

Monty sighs. “James, you have so much kindness in you. I just want you to be careful.”

Why do people keep telling him that? He doesn’t need to be careful around Regulus. He needs to be careful with Regulus, sure, but not around him. Regulus would never hurt him in a way James couldn’t handle. 

“Yeah. Alright.” James sends one last glance at the potions bottles on the nightstand. “Thanks for taking those. Remus’s coming today, so I’m gonna go make up a bed for him.”

“I will.”

“And I’m- I’m sorry.”

And for once, Monty doesn’t say it’s not his fault.

“Ok. Thanks, James.”

“Yeah.” James turns and walks out, trying not to let guilt corrode his stomach from the inside out. 

 

---

 

“How’s summer homework going, Remus? James hasn’t even opened his books yet.”

Remus looks up at the sound of his name. “Hm? Oh, yeah. I did all of it at the start of summer. Best to get it out of the way.” It helps to be hopelessly bored, he thinks. 

“Mum,” James complains across from him. They’re playing cards, and currently Remus is winning. “I’m getting to it. Let me enjoy my free time.”

“Mhm. And when it’s the night before school starts and you haven’t done any of it?”

“Then at least I’ll have the motivation.”

“What are we talking about?” Sirius sets a cup of tea down on the table and settles in next to Remus. Remus desperately tries to ignore the way Sirius’s knee presses against his thigh. 

“Summer homework.” Effie supplies. “James has done none of his.”

“Oh, neither have I.” Sirius gives her a quick smile. “Best to save it for the last minute, I always say.”

Remus shakes his head, though it's nothing new. You don’t spend 6 years with someone and not learn their study habits. “Let me guess-”

“-It’s good for motivation.” Sirius finishes. 

Remus and Effie sigh while James grins in victory. “I win,” Remus says, setting down the last of his cards on the pile. 

James’s grin quickly falls as he pouts. “That’s not fair! I wasn’t paying attention!”

Remus shrugs, smiling as he grabs the mug of tea Sirius brought him. “That’s what you get.” With a groan he lifts himself from the ground and settles back into his spot on the couch. “How the hell are we almost through summer?”

“I know.” James says, also finding his way to an armchair. Sirius follows suit, plopping down next to Remus. 

“It’s a bit weird to be 7th years, isn’t it? Feels too old.” Sirius leans his head back on the cushions. “At least we’ll all be of age soon.”

“Why do you want to grow up so fast?” Effie asks, stretching her arms above her head. “Enjoy your youth.”

“We’ll be allowed to fight then,” Sirius says, eyes sparkling. “Alongside you and Monty in the Order.” 

Effie presses her lips together. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Effie-”

She rolls her eyes. “I know I’m not going to be able to deter you Sirius. I just…” She sighs. “You’re still kids. Though I doubt that’ll make a difference to Dumbledore.”

“Well, Dumbledore’s right. We won’t be kids anymore. And the Order needs all the help it can get, right?”

“Right.”

Sirius shifts next to Remus. “Me and James were talking to the girls the other day and they agreed.”

Effie sighs. “Gryffindors. I don’t know what I expected.”

“What’s new with the Order?” Remus pipes up, keeping his eyes on Effie. “Any new strategies?”

For some reason, she refuses to meet his gaze. “None that you need to worry about.”

“Can you tell us anything?” Remus asks. 

“We’re… we’re focused on keeping the schools safe. He seems to be targeting kids, which isn’t what we were expecting.”

“But not Hogwarts?” James asks. 

She nods. “Not Hogwarts. Yet.”

James leans forward. “Yeah. We were all talking, and we thought it wouldn’t make sense for him to avoid the school entirely. It feels like he’s building up to it. He’s gone after almost every other school on the continent, so…” 

Effie rubs her eyes, long black hair falling over her shoulder. “Except Durmstrang. But that’s no surprise.”

“Right.”

“We’re watching him carefully. There are anti-apperation charms on the school so we’d know if they were coming. Plus, with all the lockdown drills…”

“Pshtt.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Those things do nothing. Moony already figured out how to break the charm that keeps the doors closed.” He yelps when Remus cuts him a look and elbows him. “What? It’s true!”

“Is it? Hm.” Effie considers Remus for a moment. “Maybe you should tell Dumbledore that so he can improve the charm. And Sirius, love, ‘those things’ are completely necessary. It would keep kids stored away and safe from intruders in a controlled fashion.”

“Some of us want to fight.”

“You aren’t even of age yet.” Effie tries, and there’s a hint of… something lacing her voice. Sadness? Desperation?

“You think the Death Eaters will care about that?”

Effie lets out a breath. “You’re right. But it won't matter if they can’t get to you. Which is why the lockdowns are essential.”

“Hm.”

Effie leans down and picks up her mug, now empty, from the coffee table. Standing up, she heads to the kitchen. “It’s late. I’m going to go to bed.”

James nods, yawning. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for the tea, Mum.”

As he passes Remus he ruffles his hair. “You know where your bed is, yeah? Pads can show you. Night.”

“Night,” Both Sirius and Remus reply. As James disappears up the stairs, both boys fall into a comfortable quiet. 

Sirius, of course, is the one to break it. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room. I’m tired too.”

Remus nods and stands up, grabbing both his and Sirius’s mugs and bringing them to the sink. He sets them down and looks up to find Sirius watching him from the doorway. “What?”

“Nothing. Just missed you, s’all.” 

Remus’s stomach does a complicated little gymnastics routine that would no doubt win awards. “I missed you too.”

Sirius flashes him a grin and walks past him and out of the other door to the kitchen. “Come on, then. We can finish cleaning up in the morning.”

Remus dutifully follows him up the stairs and down to the hall, watching as Sirius opens the door to his bedroom and flops down on his bed. Remus smiles and quietly shuts the door behind him, standing over Sirius and crossing his arms. “You know I’ve stayed in this bedroom every summer for six years?”

Sirius pushes himself up onto his elbows, perfect lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah, but what if you forgot then got lost?"

"On my way down the hall?"

"It's a dark house. What if you wandered into the wrong room? You need me.”

“I need you?”

“Mhm.” Sirius looks up at him through his lashes, and Remus wonders if he’s doing it on purpose. “You need me.”

Remus takes a step closer, resting a hand on a bed post. His heart is beating so hard he’s shocked Sirius can’t hear it. Because the way Sirius is looking at him- the way his lips part on his next inhale- Remus could swear-

And then Sirius rolls away, sitting up against the pillows. “Oh! I wanted to ask you something.”

Remus lets out a breath as his chest deflates. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Are you going to keep taking Snape’s potions?” He looks nervous, Remus realizes, eyes darting around the room. 

“Um…” Remus crosses to the other side of the bed, mirroring Sirius against the pillows. “I think so, yeah. As much as I hate it, it helped last time. It was easier.”

“Right. I remember. You were less…” Sirius trails off, looking away. “You were more like yourself. Moony?”

“Yeah?”

“What did it feel like?”

Remus tips his head at him. “Why does it sound like you’re scared to ask?”

Sirius fidgets with the sheets. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to say. After- after… everything.”

Oh. 

Remus shifts his hips till he’s laying down with his head on the pillow. Sirius stays sitting up above him. “It’s alright, Sirius. Nothing has to be different than before.”

“It is, though.” Sirius says softly.

Remus closes his eyes, choosing not to answer him. “It feels… better. With the potion. Like I have more control. Like I can tell who’s a friend and who’s pray. I- um. I recognized you. More than just your smell.”

“Oh?”

“I could tell.”

“How?”

You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. 

The moon reflected off your fur and I couldn’t look at anything else. 

Your eyes held mine and I knew I’d recognize you in any place, in any body. 

“I just could.”

Sirius shifts till he’s laying down too. “I think James feels bad. About Snape's potions.”

“How so?”

“It wasn’t him, you know? It wasn’t his idea.”

Remus frowns at the ceiling. “Why does it have to be?”

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t think it does. But I think he feels guilty that he didn’t come up with it. Like it’s his fault it took so long because he didn’t try hard enough to fix it.” 

“There was nothing to do. We were all stumped till bloody Snape came along.”

Sirius lets out a soft sigh. “Tell that to him.”

Remus thinks of James’s kind eyes and the little orange potions he saw in Monty’s drawer when he visited earlier. He mentally kicks himself. Of course James would be the type of person to try and save everyone at once and blame himself when he failed. “I imagine he’s a bit preoccupied.”

“Focusing on Monty, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.” Sirius shifts in the bed next to him. Remus can’t see his face in the dark. “Probably.”

They go quiet again. 

“Moony?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d tell us if it hurt, right? The potion?”

Remus stares at the ceiling he can’t see. “It doesn’t any more than normal, Pads. Stop worrying.”

“You know I won’t.”

And then Sirius shifts and there’s a brush of skin against the back of Remus’s hand and his whole world goes still, reduced to that single point of contact. Sirius’s knuckles rest just lightly against Remus’s, and neither of them speak a word. 

Remus waits for Sirius to pull away. 

He doesn’t.

Remus’s heart has started up again, pounding in the silence of the room. He squeezes his eyes shut, relishing in the freedom to react without Sirius seeing. Biting his lip, he fights to keep his body relaxed. His hand hums where Sirius is touching it. 

“I’ll tell you,” he says finally, and tries to ignore the way his voice cracks. “If it hurts more than usual. I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”

Their hands are still touching, and, fuck, that’s all Remus can think about. Call him whatever you like, but at his core he’s still a teenage boy. He can’t make himself care about the current conversation. His thoughts are… elsewhere. 

Remus holds his breath and slowly lets his hand fall open, palm facing the ceiling. It’s a silent invitation, one he begs Sirius will take him up on. For a painful moment, nothing happens. Then, miraculously, Sirius’s pinky skirts across his palm and finally, finally , interlocks with Remus’s. The rest of his fingers follow and that’s it.

They’re holding hands.

In Remus’s bed.

In the dark. 

Remus can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. He lets himself sink into his pillow, releasing a breath. His whole body thrums with excitement, every inch of him tingling in the dark. He doesn’t know how long they lie there, breaths syncing in the silent air, before Remus starts thinking he should do something. Maybe he should roll over, tuck Sirius’s hair behind his ear, hold his face and…

Can he do that yet? Is that even what this is? Is he misinterpreting whatever's going on? Does Sirius think like that? Does he feel like that?

Is he even into guys?

Remus shoves his thoughts down and tips his head to the side to look at Sirius. In the dark he can barely make him out, black hair spilled across his pillow. His eyes are closed and lips parted as he breathes slowly and peacefully, chest rising and falling.

Asleep. 

Remus watches him for a long moment, taking note how dark his lashes look against his pale cheeks. Those high cheekbones that could cut iron. Those lips. 

Remus lets his thumb drag over the back of Sirius’s hand, a small self indulgence, before his own eyes flutter closed. It doesn’t take long for sleep to find him and gently pull him into its depths, soft and warm. 

With a quiet exhale he lets himself drift off, fingers still firmly interlocked with Sirius’s. 

 

---

 

Regulus tries to focus on the feeling of dirt pressing against his knees. He’s vaguely aware that his fingers are also digging into the ground, but he’s a bit too preoccupied with staying conscious to worry about ruining his manicure. 

“Give me something ,” Bellatrix hisses, taking a step closer. The cobblestone walls of the courtyard sends her voice echoing in a way that Regulus thinks might just split his head in two. 

They’ve been practicing occlumency for the last hour and a half. Well. Regulus has been practicing occlumency. Bellatrix has been brushing up on her legilimency skills.

Regulus forces himself to breathe, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He focuses on the air filling his lungs, trying to block out the pounding in his head. He’s never had a headache like this before. It’s almost indescribable in its intensity, throbbing and relentless. His voice cracks when he tries to speak, throat like sandpaper. “Just-”

“ Ligilimens !”

He bends forward again with a small cry, too far gone to contain himself physically.

Ocean of calm.

Ocean of-

Ocean.

Thoughts slipping under.

Ocean.

Water. 

Drowning.

Drowning, drowning, drowning -

“Agh!” Bellatrix rips out of his head again with a cry of frustration. “Brat.”

He coughs violently, pain blocking out the small thrum of victory that usually accompanies her retreat. Curling his fingers in the dirt he squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can. 

This isn’t anything he can’t handle.

It doesn’t matter if it feels like his mind is starting to fray at the edges. It doesn’t matter if he’s in so much pain his vision is starting to blink in and out. 

He can do this. 

(He’s increasingly worried he won’t be able to keep this up much longer. He isn’t invincible, and Bellatrix seems to have no cap to her stamina.) 

“ Ligili -”

“Bella.” A voice cuts her off, cold and clipped. “Hold on a minute.”

Regulus doesn’t open his eyes to see who it is. He keeps taking deep breaths. Keeps focusing on staying alive. 

“I need to borrow Regulus for an errand in town.”

In through the nose. 

Out through the mouth. 

Don’t pass out. 

“Little busy here, Cissy.”

“I don’t care. I need Regulus. Anyway, look at the state of him. You think he’ll keep this up? Walburga said teach him, not break him.”

“But I’m so close to cracking him. I can feel it.”

“Bella.”

A hiss through gritted teeth. “Fine! Fine. Take him. Regulus, we’ll pick this back up later.”

Regulus swallows thickly, unmoving from the ground. Someone touches his shoulder and he tries not to whimper. “Regulus.” Narcissa’s voice, cold and clipped but not cruel. “Let’s go. Up you get.”

Regulus takes a shuddering breath. He can do this. Slowly he sits back on his heels, pressing his hands to his head.

Ow. 

Ow, ow, ow ow-

“Regulus. Now.”

He forces himself up on shaky feet, immediately stumbling. He understands now why Bellatrix’s torture victims cave so easily. She breaks their body through their minds, taking them down from the inside out. He sways distantly, wondering if Narcissa would let him get some pain potions from the house before leaving. He doubts it. 

“We’re off to Diagon Alley. Really, Regulus, try not to look so frail. You’re the Black heir, not a scarlet fever patient.” Narcissa takes his arm. He realizes through the haze of pain that she’s about to apperate them. 

Shit.

That’s not a good idea right now.

“Wait-” he croaks, but it’s too late. She turns on her heel and off they go, spinning through space. 

When they land and his feet touch ground, Regulus instantly tips sideways. Lucky for him, Narcissa apperated them into an alleyway and he hits a wall before he fully keels over. Sliding down, Regulus tries his best to contend with the spinning in his head. 

He can’t see, can’t think through the cloud of haze and pain he’s immersed in. The world won’t stay still and he feels like someone is slicing at his brain matter. Distantly he hears a sigh somewhere above him. “We really don’t have time for this.”

"Ugh." Regulus complains. "My head feels like it's going to implode and melt out through my eyes." 

Narcissa rolls her eyes. "You're fine."

"I am not."

"Stop whining."

Regulus grits his teeth, trying to get himself under control. “Why are we here?” he manages from his position on the ground. 

Narcissa peers down at him. “We’re picking up a wand from Olivanders.”

Regulus closes his eyes, pressing a hand against his forehead in an attempt to cool it down. He swears he feels it pulsing. “Why do you need me for that?”

Narcissa shrugs. “I don’t. But your other option was staying there with Bella and besides. As far as Blacks go, your company isn’t the worst.” 

“Right.” Regulus manages. He sounds like death. He feels like death too, so maybe it’s only fitting. 

“You know…” Narcissa trails off, staring down at him. “If you weren't so unbearably weak, I’d tell you you aren't as horrid at occlumency as we all expected you’d be.” `

“Thanks.”

“Keep slumping over like that and I’ll take it back. Come on. Stop being pitiful.”

She’s right, of course. She usually is. Regulus pushes himself to his feet, muscles like lead. “Okay. Why…” He lets his voice trail off, deciding voicing the question isn’t worth the effort. 

“Why do we need a wand?” Cissa asks and he nods gratefully. Even that motion sends his stomach turning. “The Dark Lord is experimenting with different types of magic. He commissioned Olivander to make a wand capable of anything he wanted.”

“Oh.” Regulus starts walking, shielding his eyes against the blinding light of Diagon Alley. “Ugh.”

Narcissa hums in what might be sympathy. “Hm. I might have a word with Bella about her tactics. If you’re this torn up after two hours of training, I don’t know what you’ll do when she decides to go farther.”

“Don’t.” Regulus takes a breath. “It’s good for me. It’s helpful.”

Narcissa gives him a look. “Cousin, there’s a difference between training and torture.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

Narcissa rolls her eyes when he sways on his next step. “It’s not a matter of if you can handle it or not. It’s if you should. Bella isn’t always like this, you know. For some reason she’s trying really hard with you.”

“Honored.” Regulus says dryly. 

She turns to look at him, gaze pricing. “Which tells me you have a secret, Regulus. One you’d give up your sanity to protect.”

He directs his gaze straight ahead. He says nothing.

“Bella knows that,” Narcissa continues. “And for some reason, she’s desperate to break you.”

“She’s done a bang-up job so far, hasn’t she?”

Narcissa snorts. “You should see yourself. I think we both know she’s a lot closer than you’d like her to be.”

“So why don’t you give it a go? I know you’re trained too.” Everyone in this god-forsaken family has to be. Regulus hasn’t tried yet- ligilimency is an offensive move, one he doesn’t have time for.

Narcissa sighs. “My abilities are… insufficient. I can recover memories better than secrets. Finding something someone isn’t intentionally hiding is one story. Breaking a person’s will is another entirely.”

“I’ve got Bella under control.” Regulus says, even as his head sends another spike of pain down his spine. The noise of the crowded alley is doing him no favors. He wonders if Narcissa would tell his mother if he tipped over and passed out right here on the street. 

“You best be sure of that. I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot more of you soon.”

Regulus pauses. “What are you talking about?”

Narcissa refuses to look at him. “Has the Dark Lord not talked to you about…” For the first time, her eyes dart around, suspicious. “Taking the mark?” She finishes under her breath.

Something sinks in Regulus’s stomach. “Briefly.”

“You’d be the youngest ever, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’ll do it, then?”

Something in her tone makes him turn and look at her. There’s an expression on her face he isn’t expecting. Sollom and serious. “Why shouldn’t I?” He finally manages, voice low. He feels himself sway slightly as his headache gets worse, muscles starting to tremble. 

She stays quiet for a moment. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t.”

“Right, well-”

“But I implore you to be cautious, Regulus. It’s not something you can come back from.”

He goes still. “What?”

“You’re young,” She says. “It won’t matter what anyone says. At the end of the day, it’s your choice.”

He wants to laugh. 

His choice.

His. 

As if he could turn down the Dark Lord and walk out unharmed. 

As if he could walk out. 

His head spins and he vaguely wonders if he’s about to be sick. 

“Noted,” He croaks, throat dry. 

“Don’t do anything rash, is my point. Most likely the Dark Lord will ask you to take the Mark next time he sees you.”

“I-”

“‘Cissa?”

Regulus freezes. He knows that voice. Muscles tensing, he turns. Sirius stands a few feet away, staring at them with hard eyes. He’s holding a shopping bag in one hand and a drink in the other. 

Regulus decides then and there he wants to go home. 

Sirius’s casual clothes have always been slightly off putting, so different from what he was allowed to wear back at Grimmauld. Pants that are too tight around his thighs and too loose around his ankles, shirts of all colors and textures. He stands out from the crowd, though that could just be Regulus.

Sirius refuses to look in his direction.

“Sirius.” Narcissa’s voice stays clipped, all business. “How fascinating. You’ve brought your friends.”

Friends?

It’s then that Regulus looks past Sirius to where James and Lupin are standing, both frozen in their spots, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. 

Fuck.

Regulus didn’t expect to see him. 

Not so soon. 

He looks good. 

He looks healthy. 

Their eyes meet and Regulus can’t tear his gaze away. Won’t. 

The sight of James sends the pain in his head spiking so sharply he sucks in a breath. 

There’s so much there, there always has been, so much depth and feeling and love that Regulus nearly chokes. His head pounds and all he wants is to run to James and let him sooth him with gentle kisses and murmured assurances. 

He winces and James’s expression shifts, just for a moment, to one of concern. Regulus wants to tell him that he’ll be fine, that he’s sorry he didn’t say goodbye, there’s no need to worry, he’s just far too exhausted to even bother with glamour right now. 

Next to James Lupin glances between them with a strange look on his face, jaw set. 

“...none of your business.”

Regulus fades back into the conversation just as Narcissa takes a step back, obviously trying to escape. 

“I’m just wondering, cousin.” Sirius cocks his head. “Seems a bit odd for two death eaters to be out in broad daylight. Always thought you lot were more like vampires.”

Regulus’s head spins. He can’t be here anymore. He can’t- he can’t- 

Swaying dangerously, Regulus lets out a soft hiss and shuts his eyes tight against the sudden blinding pain that overwhelms him when the gravity of who he’s looking at sets in. He’s been shoving James down for so long, becoming so good at hiding him that seeing him now is like Bellatrix ripping through his head with lightning precision, going exactly for James and yanking him out first try. 

Narcissa takes a step closer to him, hand settling on his elbow lightly. Ducking her head, she whispers: “Regulus. Get yourself together. Get through this errand, then we can go home.”

He tries to nod, every inch of his body resisting. 

“What was that? What’s wrong with him?” Sirius takes a step forward and Regulus looks away, back at James. Oh. James. 

He looks so worried, eyes wide and fingers twitching as if he wants to reach out. Regulus knows he would if they were alone. 

“He’s fine. If you’ll excuse us, we must be going now.”

“Just-”

“Pads, let’s leave it. Come on. We still need ink, don’t we? Then ice cream.” Lupin sets a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Regulus doesn’t miss the way Sirius sinks into it. “Actually,” Lupin says, eyes flicking to Regulus. “James, why don’t you go get the ink? We can meet you up ahead.”

Regulus goes back to thinking maybe Lupin isn’t so bad.

As Regulus and Narcissa turn to leave, James catches his eye as he nods. “Alright.”

Regulus waits till Olivanders is in sight before he turns to his cousin. “Any chance I could  meet you back here in like ten minutes? I need a new quill for school.”

“School.” She looks back at him. “You’re choosing school over a mission from the Dark Lord.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like you need me there. And anyway, I figured while we’re out…”

Rolling her eyes, she nods. “Fine. Hurry. If you pass out, I’m not waiting for you.”

He turns and sets off with no further debate. People pass him in a blur as he keeps his head down and walks quickly. Scribbulus Writing Implements is the only real place in Diagon alley to get moderately priced quills and ink- its obnoxiously large sign sticks out like a sore thumb. When Regulus reaches it, he looks up. James is waiting outside and glancing around nervously, chewing on his lip. Regulus’s heart shudders at the sight. Instead of stopping, Regulus walks right past him, elbow brushing his sleeve lightly. Vaguely aware of James’s footsteps behind him, Regulus turns down the nearest off-shoot alley and doesn’t stop, trying to get lost in the dark maze of corridors and tunnels set behind Diagon Alley. 

When he’s positive they won’t be seen or followed, Regulus lets himself sink to the ground with his back against a wall. He puts his head between his knees, taking shuddering breaths. The world is still spinning and he can hear James rounding the corner.
He should really pull himself together, he thinks. He should really at least look up and face him head on. 

He can’t bring himself to move. 

There’s a russell of fabric and an intake of breath, and then the gentlest hand Regulus’s ever known sets down lightly on his back. “Regulus, love.”

Oh, he missed this. 

With a small whimper he finally allows himself to truly feel how badly his head is killing him, doing his best to breathe into the pain. God, it hurts, and he can’t tell if James’s presence is making it better or worse. 

“Regulus,” James sits down next to him, hand starting to run in soothing circles on his back. “What have they done to you?”

Shakely Regulus lifts his head, drinking in the sight of James’s face. Something warm blossoms in his gut, a feeling he’d almost forgotten. “James.”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” James brushes some of Regulus’s hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. 

“I’m alright.” Regulus says, because he is, and if he isn’t, he will be, and he knows James will worry either way. 

“You don’t look it,” James says softly. 

“Thanks.”

“No glamour, Reg? I mean I’m glad, but a little surprised.”

Regulus sighs. “Not worth the effort. And it’s just a headache, I’ll be fine.”

They both go silent for a moment, just basking in the other’s presence. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” Regulus croaks. 

A pause. “It’s alright,” James murmurs. “I just needed to see you. I was this close to just showing up to Grimmauld place myself.”

Regulus allows himself a small laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“How’s your summer going?” James asks, running a hand through his curls.

Regulus examines the cobblestones. “About as well as you’d expect.”

James grimaces, looking down. “You’ll tell me if you need anything? You’ll write?”

“Yeah,” Regulus lies. “I’d write.”

“What do you need right now?” James asks, lashes fluttering behind his glasses. 

“Just this,” Regulus says, leaning in to give him the softest kiss he can. James’s hand comes up to hold his cheek and for a moment they stay there, just the two of them, kissing in a dark alley so hidden there’s dust on the cobblestones. 

When James pulls back, he looks slightly flushed. “How am I supposed to leave you there?” He whispers. The words coil inside Regulus, brushing too close to a conversation they’ve had more than enough times. 

“There’s only three weeks till summers over and school starts,” he says. “I think you’ll manage.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” James says and there’s something sad etched in the corners of his smile. 

Regulus frowns. “What’s wrong?”

James looks away. “Nothing.”

He’s never been able to lie to Regulus. 

“James.”

“It’s- I mean- my dad. He’s wasting away, Reg. His magic’s gone and he’s just so… unhappy . And it’s my fault. God.” He shakes his head and the look on his face makes Regulus’s heart twist. 

“It’s not. Don’t think like that.”

“It is, though,” James says. “I begged him. I begged and begged and told him he’d take it if he really loved me. He didn’t want to, did you know that? He didn’t, and I made him. And that’s just- that’s just so awful of me-”

“Shit.” Regulus reaches out, everything in him needing to make James feel better. Needing to get that expression off his face. “You were scared. He would’ve refused if he wanted to. Give him some credit.” 

James nods, ducking his head. “And Sirius is there, but so’s Remus, which means they’re both a little preoccupied, and I… I just fucking miss you, Reg.” He chuckles. “God, I sound like a five year old. Don’t listen to me.”

“Your dad will be fine,” Regulus says, wincing as another round of pain sends his head spinning. “Sirius and Lupin will figure their shit out. And…”  He cuts himself off when he lets out another small sound, bracing himself on the wall behind him. 

“Reg?” There’s James, full of concern. 

“I’m fine. It’ll- It’ll pass.” 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s you.” Regulus tries to smile. 

“What?”

“I- Bella’s occlumency training- I have to hide you and she’s just sharp - and now you’re here and I’m still so raw-” He realizes he’s not making sense and shuts up. 

James stares at him. “So- seeing me is hurting you?”

Regulus goes quiet. “I’ll get over it.” 

But James is already standing up and moving back. “Shit. Fuck. Fuck that whole family.” 

“James, I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”

“Yeah, but it’s my fault.” James’s eyes squeeze shut for a quick second before fixing on Regulus. 

“No. Wait a second-”

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

Regulus pulls himself to his feet. His head pounds with how much he needs James to stay. “James, can you… can you just…” He leans against the wall, trying to force air into his lungs.  

“Reg?”

Making his feet move, Regulus wraps his arms around James and tucks his head against his chest. He’s soft and firm at the same time, and so so warm. Regulus takes a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of lavender. His head still hurts, sure, but it isn’t killing him anymore. Or maybe it is, and Regulus has just stopped caring. Any amount of pain would be worth this. 

For a minute James doesn’t move. Eventually he wraps his arms around Regulus, holding him to his chest. “We’ve got to go, love,” he whispers, and Regulus knows he’s right. Of course he’s right. 

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You aren’t.”

“Your head-”

“I’ve had worse.”

James lets out a soft breath. “I’ll see you at school. First thing.”

Regulus nods against him. His heart hurts. His forearm burns, bare but ready. Waiting. A secret that leaves his insides dirty and ugly, revolting. He wonders what James is going to do when he finds out. He wonders how long it’ll take to cast him aside. 

“First thing,” he whispers, and leans back. Steps out of James’s grasp, separating their arms. It feels fitting, somehow, that he’d be the one to pull away. 

“I’m going to go first. Wait a few minutes before following.” Regulus lets himself look James over one more time before stepping around him and walking down and out of the alley. 

He grabs a quill from the shop, throwing a few galleons down on the counter before leaving to find Narcissa. She’s waiting outside the wand shop, a velvet box in hand. “Regulus,” she motions. He walks up to her and she looks him up and down suspiciously. “Holding it together?”

He nods briskly, trying desperately not to look over his shoulder. Maybe he’ll see James one more time- even his receding back- 

“You’re still in one piece.” Narcissa notes dryly. “Any other errands, or are we headed back to Grimmauld?” 

“Let’s go.”

Regulus grabs her arm and off they spin, sending his head spiraling and stomach turning. When they land on the doorstep of Grimmauld place, Regulus lets out a breath of relief. He can practically hear his bed calling to him from upstairs.

They step into the hall, Narcissa turning the handle carefully behind them and Regulus catching it right before it hits the frame. They’re both Blacks- they know not to slam any doors. 

Regulus glances up the stairs, skin still humming from the warmth of James’s touch. Just three weeks, he thinks. Three more weeks. 

He can do three weeks. 

“I’m going to-” 

Narcissa grabs his arm with such a sudden intensity that Regulus looks up sharply, cutting off the end of his sentence. Narcissa’s frozen to the spot, eyes narrowed and focused on the living room. 

Regulus’s muscles lock and his blood runs cold, the heat of James melting off him. He's glad, actually. James has no place here. Regulus wants to keep him as far from these halls as he can. 

“Narcissa, Regulus,” The Dark Lord rises from his seat. “Welcome.”

His eyes fix on Regulus, snake-like slits narrowing in. A ugly smile peels his lips away from his teeth as he spreads his hands. “Join us.”

Notes:

Sorry for the wait! Guys i'm still figuring it out but please know i appreciate every single one of your comments and read you guys loud and clear about your preferences for the ending.
Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Chapter 41: Skull and Snake

“You’ve brought the wand, have you?” The Dark Lord crosses the room with a single boney hand outstretched. 

Narcissa stiffly hands him the velvet bag. Seeming to remember herself, she ducks her head in a small bow. “My Lord. An honor.”

His gaze flicks to Regulus who copies the motion. “My Lord.”

“Please, come in.”

Regulus ignores the irony and steps into his living room. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” He says, choosing not to sit. “A pleasant surprise, my Lord.”

Voldemort tips his head, opening the velvet bag. “I decided to speed things along.” With spindly fingers he reaches in and slowly pulls out a wand- dark and long, full of ugly knots and carvings. “Thank you, Narcissa.”

Narcissa nods and steps back, taking a seat on the edge of an overstuffed armchair. The Dark Lord turns back to Regulus. “As I said- I’m speeding things along. No point in wasting time. Do you know why I procured this wand, Regulus?”

“No, my Lord.”

“I want to find the very best channel for my magic as possible. There’s a specific wand I crave, yet it remains unattainable. For now-” He twists the wand and the curtains over the windows slam closed. “This will do as a placeholder.” The room goes quiet, the silence thick and cloying. He turns to look at Regulus. “My child, I believe it is time.”

Regulus doesn’t ask what he’s talking about. 

“You’re ready, yes? To join me? To commit to me?”

Behind the Dark Lord Regulus can see his parents sitting prim and proper on the couch. His mothers hands are clasped in her lap, eyes glittering. “Of course, My Lord.” He says, and watches as the Dark Lord nods his approval. Next to him, Narcissa lets out a little breath. Regulus doesn’t let himself look at her. 

The Dark Lord moves closer till Regulus can feel his breath, warm and thick on his face. “I’m proud, Regulus.” The words come out cracked and twisted, almost satirical. 

“Thank you.”

“I am glad you have chosen to bound yourself to this life. These people.”

“Of course.”

“Do not disappoint me. You’ll find I’m not very forgiving.”

“I’ll do my best, my Lord.”

“Your best is not good enough. Have conviction. Say it.”

“I will not disappoint you.”

“Tell me you will do better than your traitor of a brother.”

“I will never be like him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I hate him.” The lie bleeds off him in waves, easy as sin. 

“And what of your friend? What of your snake?” The Parseltounge sounds uneven and unnatural in the Dark Lord’s mouth. 

“What of her, my Lord?”

“You do not regret what you did?”

“Of course not.”

And if I asked you to kill her?

Regulus doesn’t blink. I’d slit her throat and finish the job you started.

Voldemort’s smirk drips with cruelty.  A cold hand grabs Regulus’s arm, nails digging in. Violently his sleeve is ripped up as the Dark Lord spins his wand between his fingers. “Do you agree, then? Do you want it? I can only Mark those who want it.”

Forgive me, James.

There's only so much I can do. 

“I want it, my Lord.”

“Hold out your arm.”

It doesn’t burn as much as Regulus expected it to. 

 

---

 

Peter shows up to James’s a week before school starts. James greets him at the door. “Wormy, thank god.”

Peter pulls back. “That bad?”

“It’s awful.” James grabs Peter’s bags. It’s true. Sirius and Remus have been very… well. Very Sirius and Remus. Dancing around each other just as badly as they do at Hogwarts. But in such a small house with so few other people, it’s nearly unbearable. He looks back up at Peter. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He says honestly. 

Peter grimaces. “Can they just… I don't know…

“Fuck?” James asks with a laugh. “They wish.”

“I think everyone wishes,” Peter mutters. James grins. 

“Merlin, it’s good to see you.”

Peter sighs and leans up against the door. “How’s Monty?”

James doesn’t let his smile slip. “Oh, he’s fine. You know. I mean. He’s doing better.”

“Magic still gone?” Peter asks softly.

James forces himself to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, but he’ll be ok.”

“Is that Pete?” Behind James, Sirius comes bounding down the stairs, hair flying behind him. 

“Hey mate-” Peter starts before Sirius barrels into him, wrapping him up in a tight hug. 

“We missed you so much.” Sirius ruffles Peter’s hair, grabbing his arm. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did.” For the first time, James notices something hard in the set of Peter’s mouth.

“Moony! Wormy’s here!”

“Yeah, I heard. Hi Mate.” Remus steps up behind them and James lets out a breath. It’s the first time they’ve been together all summer: he’s missed this. The Marauders. 

“Pete, come in.” Sirius drags Peter through the threshold and deposits him in the couch. “How’ve you been?”

Peter grins, leaning back. “Oh, fine. Bored, really. What’ve you guys been up to? Any developments?”

“Nah,” Remus says, settling on the other couch. James joins him. “Not really.”

“Oh, we ran into my cousin in Diagon alley.” Sirius frowns. “She’s up to something.”

Pete’s brows furrow. “You saw Bellatrix?”

Sirius waves a hand dismissively. “No. Narcissa.”

James presses his lips together. Sirius hasn’t mentioned Regulus since he saw him. James wishes he would. He wants to talk about him, wants to hear about him. It doesn’t matter if it’s from Sirius- he’ll take anything he can get. 

“Why d’you think they’re up to something?” Pete asks. 

Sirius scoffs in a very Sirius way. “Of course they are. They’re Death Eaters.”

“But your interaction was… civil?”

“For the most part, yeah.” Sirius looks down. “Cissa has always been… better.”

“Better?”

“Yeah. I mean- she treated us better. Then Bella or the others. She… I don’t know how to explain it.”

James thinks of the way Narcissa took Regulus's elbow when he looked like he was about to pass out. Her expression, while controlled as ever, held a hint of genuine concern. She’d ducked her head and whispered something and Regulus had nodded and steadied himself. Maybe Sirius was right. Maybe she was better. 

Better than Bellatrix, anyway. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” Sirius shrugs. “Anyway, Pete, the topic of the summer seems to be if we’re gonna be allowed to fight with the Order this year.”

Peter’s brows furrow. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I mean… will you? Do you want to?”

Sirius gives him an incredulous look. “Of course we do. Don’t you?”

“Yeah! I- yeah. I do. It’s just dangerous.”

James scoffs. “Yeah, but that's always going to be the case. Voldemort is dangerous. His cause is dangerous. That’s part of the deal.”

Peter hesitates, then nods. “You’re right. Yeah, Dumbledore’ll let us fight. He has to.”

“Ok, enough.” Effie barges into the room, hands on her hips. “No more talking about this for the rest of break. Pete, dear, it’s lovely to see you.”

“Hi, Effie.”

“Sirius- are you sleeping on the couch? I came in to get you for breakfast and your bed was still made.”

Remus’s cheeks go instantly pink and Sirius presses his lips together. No one says anything. James locks eyes with Peter.

They both sigh. 

 

---

 

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“Please.”

Regulus looks away, keeping his hands planted firmly in his lap. Barty sneers, leaning back. Evan smirks. “I imagine your parents are thrilled.”

“I imagine you’re thrilled,” Barty says, eyes fixed on Regulus’s forearm. 

Regulus wants them to leave. Desperately. Their voices are too loud and he’s too tired. He puts a hand over his arm. It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t looked at it yet. Not full on. Not intentionally. He tried, the first night. It didn’t go well. “My parents… aren’t displeased.”

It’s true. His mother hasn’t been this attentive since he was a kid.

“Course they’re not.” Barty scoffs. “Youngest ever. Fuck, you’re lucky.”

Regulus looks down. “Right.” Unconsciously, he begins to rub his forearm over the fabric of his shirt. It’s a habit he’s picked up, one he really needs to break. He used to think the tattoo itched. It wasn’t until his skin turned red and raw that he realized he’d actually just been trying to scratch it off. 

“What now?” Evan asks. 

Regulus shrugs. “I don’t know. Whatever the Dark Lord has planned.”

“Wonder if he’ll let me get one soon.” Barty pulls up his sleeve and drags his nails over the skin. “I bet he will. I’ve been loyal. He knows I'm interested.”

Regulus thinks of the ten muggles asleep in hospital beds. He thinks of Saskia. “It takes more than interest.”

“Yeah, that's true. You had all your missions didn’t you? How d’you think I could get him to give me some of those?”

Be a Parslemouth, Regulus thinks. Or a potion maker. Basically: “Be good at something. Have something he wants.”

“How are you gonna hide this at school?” Evan asks. 

Regulus shrugs. “Sleeves.” Glamour too, but Evan doesn’t need to know about that particular trick. 

“Dumbledore would lose his shit if he knew. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes one of his students is a full fledged death eater.” 

“I’m not,” Regulus says, firm and quick. Too quick. Barty’s eyes narrow. 

“How d’you mean?”

“I just have The Mark. I don’t go on missions or to that many meetings.” He stares Barty down. “I just have The Mark.” He says again. It’s important to him that they know that. It’s important they don’t think that's who he is.

“Mate, I don’t think that’s how that works. If you have The Mark, you-”

“Barty,” Evan interrupts. He glances at Regulus quickly before looking away. “Didn’t you say you had news?”

Regulus lets out a little breath as Barty begrudgingly nods. “Yeah. I overheard Rodolphus saying the Dark Lord confirmed they wouldn’t attack Hogwarts.”

“You overheard this?”

Barty shrugs. “Well. Rodolphus told me. But. I heard it.” 

“Right.”

Evan frowns. “Are you sure? It would only make sense.”

“Yeah. The Dark Lord said he’ll keep focusing on Beauxbatons and those schools. Sounds like Hogwarts is safe, unfortunately. It’d be fun to get in on the action for once.”

Regulus closes his eyes and lets out a breath of relief. He hopes they’re leaving soon. He doesn’t need noise right now. 

“We go back to school in three days, you ready?” Evan runs a hand through his sandy hair. 

“Yeah.” Barty rolls up his sleeve again, examining the bare skin. “I still really think it’d look good on me.”

“Your father would actually fucking kill you.”

Barty grins, sharp and pointy. “That’s the point.”

Regulus’s skin stings and he looks down, confused. Oh. He’s been scratching at the mark again, scraping at the skin with his nails. The cloth of his shirt is the only thing preventing him from leaving it bloody. Silently he tucks his hands under his lap. 

“I, for one, am not ready to go back to school.” Evan starts. “There’s so much more to do here. And you know Dumbledore will be stiff about Hogsmead this year because of all the attacks-”

“Whatever. I don’t think the Dark Lord will keep Dumbledore around for too much longer.”

“I don’t know.” Regulus mutters.

“Hm? Why wouldn’t he?”

Regulus shrugs. “I don’t know if he can.”

“Of course he can.”

“Then why hasn’t he? He’s his biggest opposition, and the only real reason the Dark Lord hasn’t won yet.”

“He’s… waiting.”

“Why?”

“I don’t bloody know! I’m not as close with him as you are.”

“Right.”

Barty sighs and Regulus goes back to scratching at his sleeve. He’ll have Kreature escort them out soon. 

 

---

 

“Regulus.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“We’ll be working on more projects together soon. I have big plans for you.”

“An honor, my Lord.”

---

 

“Master Regulus has been looking tired. Is he packed? Is Kreature able to do anything?”

Regulus smiles softly. “I’m fine, Kreature. Thank you.”

“I’s is not believing you, Master. You are not eating this summer. And your face is too skinny.” 

Regulus takes a breath. He knows that, of course. He always loses weight over the summers. This one was particularly bad- he just didn’t have an appetite. Combined with Bella’s Occlumency training, he couldn’t bring himself to eat as much as he should have. “I’ll finish my full plate tonight, ok?”

Kreature eyes him suspiciously. “Kreature is not believing you, Sir.” He repeats.

“Believe me. And yes, I’m packed. Train leaves at 9am tomorrow, right? I’ll be ready.”

“It’s good Master Regulus will be seeing his friends again. He’s only seen them once this summer.”

Regulus doesn’t acknowledge that one.

“Are your robes even going to fit? Should Kreature take you to the tailor?”

“My robes will be fine, Kreature. I’ll fill out when I get back to school. Stop fussing.”

“Are you saying the elves at Hogwarts is cooking better than Kreature is?”

“No, Kreature. I like your cooking just fine.” 

“Your mother will be worrying, Master Regulus.”

“I guarantee you she will not.”

“Is you getting less headaches now?”

“Yeah,” Regulus lies. 

Kreature shakes his head. “I see you drinking your potions- Kreature’s the one that’s been cleaning up the bottles.”

“They’re just sleeping potions.”

Kreature begrudgingly nods. “Kreature knows. Kreature would be able to tell if you’s were drinking too much.”

Regulus makes himself smile. Kreature’s right on this, at least. He isn’t taking more than necessary. He doesn’t mind losing a little sleep- mostly he takes them because they remind him of James. “Exactly. So don’t worry about those.”

“I worry about you eating more.” Kreature says, and Regulus sighs. They’re right back where they started. “And the bandages on your sink.”

Regulus takes a step back. “That’s- those don’t matter.” He’s been using them to wrap his arm. When he has to change or shower he doesn’t want to catch a glimpse of the mark out of the corner of his eye. Two layers of protection can do no harm. Plus- it helps with the scratching.

“Yes, but you is always saying things like that and Kreature gets so worried-” Drawing himself up to his full height Kreature glares at Regulus. “I is wondering if I should be telling Mistress Walburga.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But-”

“No, Kreature. I forbid you from bringing this to my mother.”

Kreature throws his hands up. “Then Kreature is asking Master Regulus to take care of himself! If I can’t be convincing you, maybe Mistress can.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “And how do you think she’d do that?”

Kreature closes his mouth. He frowns. It’s always been difficult- this invisible line. Kreature worships Walburga. Bows so low his nose touches the ground the second she walks into the room.

But Regulus has always been his favorite.

And Walburga is not kind to Regulus. Kreature isn’t stupid- he’s had to apparate Regulus into his bed from the living room floor enough times to understand the dangers of telling Walburga more than she needs to know. 

“I won’t tell Master Walburga,” Kreature concedes. “Unless she asks Kreature.”

“Thank you,” Regulus says quietly. 

“Master Regulus should really be seeing more of his friends.” Kreature turns to wander away, still muttering to himself. Regulus wonders if the house elf realizes he’s speaking out loud. “Doesn’t talk to anyone anymore, never leaves the house, never eats. He is reminding Kreature of his traitor brother.” Kreature stops at the doorway, glancing back at Regulus over his shoulder. “At least his brother was loud. At least Kreature could tell he was still alive.”

Silently, Regulus goes back to his room. 

 

---

 

Surprisingly, the transition back to school goes smoothly. Regulus stays quiet on the train, lost in his head. Even Pandora doesn’t try to talk to him. The opening dinner is long and complicated, and Regulus finds himself breaking his promise to Kreature. After a few bites his stomach turns and he pushes the plate away. 

He sees James that night. 

“James,” Regulus murmurs when he opens the door to the Come and Go room. 

James is leaning up against a bed post, arms crossed. At Regulus’s voice his head snaps up. Pupils wide he shoves off the post and moves closer. “Reg.”

Regulus closes his eyes, ignoring the pounding starting up in his temple. It’s insistent, nagging, and altogether not enough to keep him from this. From him. 

Slowly he moves forward, adjusting James’s glasses. His eyes glitter and Regulus thinks he’d be ok drowning in them. Leaning up on his toes, Regulus kisses him. Soft and gentle and shockingly easy, James kisses back. Hands finding Regulus’s waist, he lets out a soft breath against his lips.

Regulus lets himself start to soften, to thaw, ice melting and running off him in small dribbles. The water recedes, and for the first time in a long time, Regulus feels warm.  

Fuck Bellatrix for ever making him bury this. 

James makes a small sound and Regulus’s warmth turns to fire, hungry and demanding. Pressing him back against the post, Regulus’s hands find James’s hair. When he tugs James takes a sharp breath. “Fuck,” He curses, fingers tightening on Regulus’s waist.

“Mm,” Regulus agrees, swiping James’s bottom lip with his tongue. 

James’s hands find the hem of his shirt and Regulus involuntarily flinches, muscles locking up. If James notices, he doesn’t comment, releasing his shirt as if nothing happened and instead sliding his hands down to grip his hips. 

“It’s good to see you,” Regulus whispers and James beams, pressing his forehead against Regulus’s. Regulus moves them till James falls back on the bed. He crawls on top of him, straddling James’s hips with his thighs.

They don’t talk any more after that. 

 

---

 

“Have you visited the Basilisk?” 

Regulus’s whole body jolts. He’s laying with his back pressed against James, the other boy's arms wrapping around him tightly. Everything is soft, comfortable, gentle. Or it was.

“No,” Regulus manages. He’s thought about it, of course. She’s right there. She’s so close. Right under them, really. Half of him wants to run to her, to fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him. The other half wants to get as far away from this castle as he can. He never wants to face her again. 

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “No time. And…”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Regulus stares at his forearm, stretched out in front of him on the bed. Silently he draws it to his chest where James can’t see. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt- Regulus doesn’t want to look at it anymore. Doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants to lay here in James’s arms, on this bed, and forget. 

“Your dads potions,” Regulus murmurs. “We’ll make more to ship him soon, yeah?”

James buries his face in the back of Regulus’s neck. “Yeah.” He whispers against his skin. “Ok.”

“I’m in 7th year Astronomy,” Regulus says, deeming it best to change the subject. “Is Lupin?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Regulus can feel James’s smile. “Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Regulus huffs. “How were they this summer?”

“Who?”

“All of them.”

“Ah. Sirius and Remus were… fine. Preoccupied, I guess. Not even in a satisfying way. And Peter. He was- he was a little strange.”

“How do you mean?”

James shrugs against him. “I don’t know. You won’t like it if I tell you.”

Regulus furrows his brow. “What? Why not?” He rolls over in James’s arms till they’re face to face. So close. 

James shifts to adjust him then sighs. “He’s… hesitant. To fight for the Order.”

“And that’s odd because…”

“Because the rest of us aren’t.” James says it firmly, decisively. Regulus stomach sinks. 

“James, no-” He starts, but it’s too late. 

“We’ve already made up our minds. Of course we’re going to fight! Of course we’re going to beat him. I can’t sit by, Reg. I don’t care how dangerous it is.”

Regulus’s heart is pounding so hard he’s certain James can feel it. “It’s a death sentence,” he whispers softly. “He’ll kill you. He wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Only if I let him,” James says, but his smile’s weak. 

“You… you can’t take sides,” Regulus whispers, because it’s true. Because he can’t let him do that. That means fighting, and battles, and far too much room for injury. He can’t have James on that side, fighting with those people. He refuses to see him hurt for a useless cause. 

“That’s a little hypocritical, isn’t it?” James murmurs softly, eyes kind as ever. 

“The Order hasn’t made any progress, please, stay out of it, just don’t-”

James shuts him up with a kiss. “Reg, love, I’m not going to stop. I won’t.” 

“You can’t kill him.” Regulus whispers. You don’t know, he thinks. You don’t know about the Horcrux. You don’t know him the way I do. You can’t beat him the way I can.  

“I can try.”

“Can I do anything to change your mind?” He lets desperation leak into the edge of his voice.

James reaches out, running his fingers over Regulus’s cheekbones, nose, lips. “You know you can’t. I’m doing this for you too.”

“What?”

“Seeing you there… I’m going to stop him. You and my father- I’m actually going to do something to help the people I love for once.”

“You already are,” Regulus hisses. Desperately he reaches out to cup James’s face. They’re so close Regulus can feel the warmth of his breath. “You are helping. Both me and your father. I promise. You know what won’t help either of us? You dead.”

James ducks his head, pressing it against Regulus's chest. Against his heart. “I’m going to help,” he says again, and Regulus closes his eyes. 

Gently he strokes a hand through James’s curls, relishing in the way the other boy melts into the touch. “I know.” 

“I love you, Reg.”

You shouldn't.

Wouldn’t. 

Not if you knew. 

He wraps his arms around James’s back, wondering if he can feel how hot his forearm is burning right now. 

“Je t'aime.”

---

 

Professor Sinistra’s heels click on the classroom floor. “Welcome back, precious students. It’s a gift to see you here, all alive.”

Remus frowns, only slightly perturbed. 

“As it is, I see a lot of familiar returning faces. If you could, please find a partner.”

For some godforsaken reason, Remus looks to Regulus. To his shock, he finds Regulus looking back.

Which is strange, because they definitely don’t like each other. As Regulus rises and starts to walk in his direction Remus tells himself it’s just because they work well together. Remus knows how to take orders and Regulus knows the stars. 

“Black,” Remus greets with a nod. “Missed me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Lupin. You’re just the only person in this room that knows how to keep quiet. And don’t think I didn’t notice you got here five minutes late.”

“Mhm.” 

Regulus apparently takes that as an invitation to slide into the seat next to his. Remus, already slightly annoyed, decides to play dirty. “How’s James? He didn’t come back to the dorm last night.”

Regulus’s eyes instantly snap to his, gaze hard and precise. “Stop.”

“I’m just asking-”

“I will curse you again.”

Remus chuckles and sits back in his chair. Neither of them speak as Professor Sinistra passes out the rest of the papers. 

“Work with your new partner to fill these out.” She pauses at Remus and Regulus’s desk, glaring. “You’ll be spending a lot of time in my class together. I suggest you start by getting along.”

Both boys take a sheet of paper and pointedly ignore each other for the rest of class. 

After the bell tolls Remus runs out after Regulus. “Wait.”

Regulus turns, glares, but ultimately waits for him to catch up. “What?”

“I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Not here.” In silence they continue down the halls and stairs, walking until they’re around no one they know. Finally, Remus opens his mouth.

“I- um.”

“Spit it out.”

Fine. Now might not be the time, but oh well. He’s been thinking about it for a while. “Are the werewolves working for Voldemort?”

Regulus’s shock comes and goes before Remus can blink. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“Why would I?”

Remus sends him a look, and for some reason Regulus doesn’t fully meet his eyes. “Don’t you?”

Regulus presses his lips together. “Some of them, yes.”

Oh.

Remus takes a deep breath. “Right. I don’t know what I expected. How?”

“How?”

“Yeah. What are they doing for him?”

Regulus looks away then, firmly. Like he doesn’t want to admit the truth, and doesn't want to face Remus when he says it. 

“What you’d expect. Biting people. Turning them. Using them to join the cause.”

Teeth sinking into his shoulder, pain like nothing he’s felt since.

A moon that infests his dreams and has yet to let him go. 

A child’s screams, only later identifiable as his own. 

Remus stops walking. “What?”

“Werewolves are surprisingly pliant right after they’ve been turned,” Regulus continues. “It doesn’t take much to push them in a certain direction.” 

Remus feels his blood run cold. “So they’re… making more? Just for the sake of it? Just to add to his army?”

Regulus shrugs. “You asked.”

“Fuck.” Remus closes his eyes. Long burning anger tears through him, leaving his insides in ashes.  “Do you have any idea how much a bite…”

”Hurts?”

“Ruins someone?”

Regulus shakes his head. “I’m…”

He trails off and Remus looks over, confused. Regulus is staring straight ahead, eyes wide and unfocused. “Regulus?”

He follows Regulus’s gaze and feels his brows pinch in confusion. It’s just a hallway. Just a normal hallway. “There’s nothing down there,” Remus starts. “Just Myrtle's bathroom.”

Regulus’s lips pinch, just for a second. “I…” but he doesn’t say anymore, and he’s not moving.

“Come on.”

“Lets- I need-” Regulus cuts himself off and turns on his heels. Remus throws his hands up and chases after him.

“Regulus!”

Regulus doesn’t say anything, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Remus catches up to him eventually. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just realized I didn’t need to go that way.”

“You scared of ghosts, Regulus?”

The other boy smiles, but it almost looks sad. “Something like that.”

“Huh.” Remus doesn’t know what to do with that. “I- thank you. For answering my question. I know you didn't have to.”

Regulus nods. “It is what it is.” 

“You- I just- I need you to tell me you know it’s awful. What he’s doing. I need to know you think it’s cruel.”

“It’s never really mattered what I think, has it?” Regulus smirks at him, raising a brow.  “I’ll see you in class, Lupin. Try to be on time, for once.”

Remus watches as he walks away, left, as he always seems to be, entirely and utterly confused.

Notes:

shitty and short best combination

Chapter 42: In the Castle

Notes:

tw in end notes

James settles back into classes fairly easily. Runes is the worst, of course. It’s just so bloody boring. But he gets through it like he gets through every class, and before long three weeks have gone by and James hasn’t really noticed. 

Quidditch season picks up quickly. He’s captain now, which is nice. Gryfindor won last year under Frank’s leadership, and now it’s up to James to continue the streak. 

Which would be fine.

If Marlene would actually do her job. 

“Oi, McKinnon, get your head in the game!” James shoots by her as Marlene does a spin, just barely missing a bludger aimed straight for her face. 

She sends him a glare, but when she raises her bat next her eyes narrow in determination. Good. James nods and tries to refocus, making a dive for the quaffle. He gets it through the hoop, but only just. The stands go wild but he just circles around to go again. One point won’t make too much of a difference if Regulus gets the snitch. 

Every time James sees him he’s lowered across his broom, darting somewhere so quickly James is certain he’s found it. But the whistle doesn’t blow, so he keeps playing. The points are racking up, and if things keep going in this direction they might just come out ahead. 

“Potter!” It’s Mulciber, of course. He’s shouting over the wind, not that that makes a difference. James can hear him loud and clear. “How's your father?”

James grits his teeth and shuts him out, going for another goal. At the last second the keeper bats it aside. James curses and Mulciber grins.

“Ohhh, ouch. Got under your skin, did I? My apologies. Didn’t realize it was a sore subject.”

James catches the quaffle when Sirius tosses it to him, shooting again. This time, it gets in. Somehow, the crowd's cheers don’t drown out Mulciber’s taunts. “Wow. Such talent. If only your father could be here to see you play.” 

“Get some new material, Mulciber.” James ducks under him, desperate to get away. He needs to stay focused. 

“Oh, I would. But I’ve only just heard the news! My mother’s thrilled of course. She’s heard through the Ministry that your father’s magic is gone.”

James tries to focus on the wind whipping his hair back. Where’s the quaffle? Who has it?

Sirius flies past. “Piss off Mulciber. James, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” James grits. Mulciber, seemingly determined to pester James instead of doing his job, smirks.

“Just a little chit-chat, Black.”

There’s the quaffle, flying towards him now. James grabs it, scanning for an opening. Sirius is closer. He tosses it over quickly, and Sirius shoots. It gets in. Mulciber’s lips twist. 

“Heard he’s fucking powerless, is that right?” His words drip with venom. “Weak and stranded. Like a pathetic muggle.”

Sirius’s head whips around just as Hoganis, one of the Slytherin beaters, rises on the other side of them. “We talking about Potter’s father? How fun.”

James’s fingers tighten around his broom handle. He needs a way out. He could go down, but he needs to loop around the goal so when Sirius goes for another goal he’ll be there to catch the ball. Fuck. 

“You know, that makes you just as bad as a half-blood.” Hoganis shoves into him with his side. James readjusts his grip and grits his teeth. 

“Don’t get too close, Leland.” Mulciber looks James up and down with disgust. “His filth might be contagious. What if he’s got whatever his father has?”

“Oh, good point. He’s infected. Disgusting.”

James ducks between them just as Sirius shouts something. Focus on the game.

Just the game. 

That’s all.

Somehow he’s got the quaffle again, and he pushes his rage into the tips of his fingers, shooting it as hard as he can through the goal. It makes it. 

The crowd cheers and James catches Sirius’s eye. Sirius must see something in his face because he shouts some choice words that James can’t make out at Mulciber and Hoganis, sending their expression’s twisting with anger. 

“Don’t you two have jobs?” James asks, passing them again. “Or are you so shit you decided it’d be a better use of your time to come bother me.”

Mulciber shrugs. “Just wanted to see if you were growing scales yet.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Captain, what’s happening?” A Gryfindor beater pauses, looking up at him. 

“Nothing. Focus.” James hopes he’s not being too strict. 

Hoganis peels off, assumedly to go back to his post, and Mulciber grins. “Captain, huh? How long till the whole team goes down? They should really be quarantining you.”

“Shut the fuck-” Sirius darts foraward just as James notices something out of the corner of his eye. Hoganis, with a bludger in one hand, a bat in the other, and a truly murderous look on his face. 

Marlene, trained to stick near the beaters, shouts: “Sirius!”

It’s quick, really.

Less than a second.

James is moving before he can think, shoving his full body into Sirius. Sirius’s broom carreens off to the side just in time for the bludger to catch James on the side of the head on its way past. 

Fuck, he thinks as the world explodes into pain and then goes instantly black.

Fuck. 

And then he falls. 

 

---

Regulus sees the snitch right before he sees James’s limp body shooting towards the ground. Really, it’s the silence of the crowd that tips him off, unnatural and oh so tense. He whips around and everything in him goes still. 

Merlin, no.

His veins are thick and full of ice, muscles freezing up. He’s locked in place, watching as James plummets. He can’t move.

Until he can.

Shooting forward, Regulus dimly notes above his rising panic that about ten other people are also going straight for James. They won’t make it. None of them will. 

That doesn't stop him from trying. 

But-

But he’s not going to get there in time. A surge of the strongest panic he’s ever felt shoots through him and he focuses on James’s body, everything in him reduced to that one point. It’s searing and desperate, nothing more than pure fear. Magic crackles around him as the air turns to static.

“Arresto Momentum,” He hisses, repeating it over and over like a prayer. 

And somehow, somehow, James’s body slows to a halt right before it hits the ground. Then it’s over, and he touches down with a light thud. Sirius follows him a moment after, tossing his broom aside and running towards him. 

There’s blood, Regulus dimly registers over the wave of exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm him. There’s blood on James’s forehead. 

The rest of both teams touchdown on the grass and Regulus notices the shrill sound of a whistle. How long has that been going on? The stands are in uproar, and Regulus can’t see James. He’s got to see James.

But there’s a crowd gathering around him and he can’t push through it, even though he needs to, even though he has to. His feet hit the ground and he shoves forward, elbowing people aside.

Sirius kneels over James on the ground as Madam Hooch steps through, clucking her tongue. “Children!” She scolds and waves her wand.

Regulus takes an instinctual step forward, trying to contend with the monster in his chest that's screaming at him to grab James and pull him to his chest, to not let another soul near him.

Because James wouldn’t fall on his own. He’s too good for that. Which means-

“Madam, is he alright? Please, you have to-” Sirius’s voice breaks as Madam Hooch, sparing him no look, waves Madam Pomfry onto the scene. She flicks her wand and James’s eyes blink open blearily, then immediately contort into pain as he rolls over and shoves a hand over his mouth. He’s trying not to be sick, Regulus can tell. And judging by the way his chest is heaving, it looks like a losing battle. 

A house elf appears and then disappears in nearly the same second, taking James and Madam Pomfrey with him. It’s all over in the span of a few minutes.

“He’ll be fine,” Hooch announces. “Just a bit of concussion. But there will be serious penalties for whoever’s responsible.” She turns and hurries off after Madam Pomfry, calling over her shoulder. “Wait here, everyone.” 

Regulus doesn’t realize he’s swaying till he nearly tips over, righting himself as much as possible. Wandless magic always takes it out of him.

Lupin’s holding Sirius’s arm, he notices dimly. He must’ve gotten across the field quickly.

Inexplicably, Lupin's eyes lock on his, full of concern. Regulus takes a step forward, not even bothering to hide the panic he knows is written into every feature of his face. 

“Uh oh, Potter didn’t look too good, did he?” Hoganis grins. Regulus watches as Sirius’s eyes darken. 

Well. 

Shit.

Sirius’s wand’s out in the next second as he launches himself at Hoganis, McKinnon close on his heels. The Slytherins surge forward and so do the Gryfindors, and that’s it.

That’s all it takes.

Somehow Regulus pushes through the circle, finding Lupin and gripping his arm hard. Everyone’s focused on Sirius and Hoganis in the center that no one notices Regulus pulling Lupin closer. “Go check on him. Please.”

Lupin’s eyes flick to his, widening. “They won’t let me see him yet- Sirius-”

“Please Lupin,” Regulus rasps. “Just- just try to get in there-”

“Ok. Yes. Of course I’ll go.” Remus moves to run off then turns back at the last minute, eyes widening. “You. You stopped his fall.”

“Go.”

Lupin sprints away and Regulus turns back to the fight. “What the fuck is going on?” He hisses to a fellow Slytherin.

“‘Parently, Hoganis was the one who hit Potter. Black’s pissed.”

Regulus lets out a sharp breath and nods, pushing forward. As much as he’d love to see Hoganis beat to a pulp, Slytherin doesn’t need any more penalties. 

“Leland.” Regulus grabs his shoulder and rips him apart from Sirius. McKinnon waits close on his brother’s heels. Regulus shoves his way between them, drawing his wand. “Stop. Now. All of you.”

“Bloody why?” Hoganis tries to wrestle out of his grip.

“Because this is beneath you.”

“Move the fuck aside, Reg.”

Regulus steels himself and looks at Sirius, eyes hard. “No.”

Sirius steps forward, dangerously close. “You didn’t hear what he said. You didn’t-”

“What now, Black?” Hoganis calls behind him. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve.”

Regulus turns, slowly. “What did you say?”

“Oh, the usual. We were just wondering if he’s got the same thing his father does. Judging by the way he fell, I’m guessing he does. Looked pretty pathetic to me.”

Regulus takes a deep breath, resolve weakening.

“You called him disgusting,” Sirius spits, pushing forward. Regulus throws his arm out, bodying him back. “You called him filthy.”

Hoganis grins. “Like his father.”

Sirius shoves forward again, trying to force Regulus out of the way. “You are so dead -”

“Like his father?”

And really, that’s more than enough.  

Regulus steps aside. 

And Sirius attacks. 

Immediately fists start flying, and Regulus crosses his arms, stepping back and watching cooly. Leland lands a good hit that Sirius barely seems to notice, absorbing it and moving on. Hoganis goes down in seconds and Sirius ends up on top of him, throwing punch after punch. There’s a dangerous sort of glint in his eyes. Regulus watches his knuckles turn bloody and a cold satisfaction starts to spread through him. Remus and Peter aren’t here to pull Sirius back, and Regulus sure as hell isn’t going to stop him. Hoganis deserves everything he’s getting.

It feels good, watching him hurt.

It feels better watching Sirius be the one to do it.

Because it means, in some small way, they’re still the same. They both know how to throw a punch. They both know how to take one. They both know what it’s like when the rest of the world slides away, leaving nothing but the cold sting of raw, consuming fury. 

They both know that sometimes, violence can feel good. 

All too soon, some Gryfindor is pulling Sirius off Hoganis and shoving him back. Muciber moves forward but a few Slytherin players catch him before he can start it all up again. 

Sirius grins, teeth bloody from a split lip. “Don’t talk about Fleamont like that. And don’t you fucking dare talk about James like that.”

“You’re a bloody psychopath-” Hoganis groans, rolling over.

“I didn’t throw a bludger at my opponent's head,” Sirius offers, eyes a little wild. 

“It was aimed at you, not Potter. He just took it upon himself to get in the way.” 

McKinnon steps up, glaring. “Wrong use of the bat. You’re lucky I didn’t swing one back.”

A shrill whistle blows and Madam Hooch, returned from the Hospital Wing, hurries across the field towards them. “Children!”

Instantly both teams take large steps away from each other. Hooch bustles in between them and glares at them all individually, muttering what are probably expletives under her breath. “I can’t- I don’t even have the energy to get to the bottom of all this. Since it was Slytherin’s bludger, 50 points. And-” She gives Sirius’s bloody knuckles a heated glare. “20 points from Gryfindor for escalating the conflict.”

Both teams start to trail off to their locker rooms but Sirius immediately turns, setting off in another direction. He’s finding James, Regulus thinks. Before he can stop himself his feet are moving and he catches up to his brother. 

“Sirius,” He says, then promptly shuts his mouth.

Sirius turns, eyes widening slightly. “Reg?”

Regulus stops in his tracks, crossing his arms. He didn’t quite think this one through. He stays silent.

Sirius frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Sirius gives him a hard look. “Why did you let me hit him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hoganis said something about Monty and you just- let me hit him. Why?”

Regulus shrugs. “Sometimes I think Hoganis could be taken down a few notches.”

“And that was the time and place?”

“I guess so.”

“Reg?”

“What?”

“Why did you let me hit him?”

They stare at each other for a long moment, eyes grey on grey. Fire and ice.

When Regulus turns and walks away, he tries not to think too hard about how easily Sirius lets him go.

 

---

 

It’s the middle of the night when James opens his eyes again. The hospital wing is dark and creaky, the curtains around his bed swaying in the breeze coming through a cracked window. He shivers, pain shooting down his spine at the motion.

Oh. 

Right. 

The hit, the fall. 

As soon as he remembers, his head starts to throb. Shit, it hurts. He’ll be fine in the morning, he knows. Pain’s always worse at night. 

He hears a soft sound and looks down, wincing. Then he stills and lets out a breath, sinking into his pillow. It’s Regulus, tucked into a chair and resting his head on his arms, fast asleep. His dark curls run over his arm and eyes, lashes heavy against his pale cheeks. He seems to glow in the moonlight, skin reflecting the light through the window. James lets himself watch for a long time, gazing at the calm expression on Regulus’s face. It’s so, so rare to see him so docile. He revels in the sight. 

Then he reaches out and gently nudges Reg’s arm, because he knows he’d kill him if he didn’t wake him up. Regulus stirs, mumbling something softly and blinking. He sits up as his eyes settle on James, filling with relief.

“Hey,” James mutters, giving him a weak smile. “You’re here.”

Regulus leans forward, looking him over with a dangerous expression. “Of course I’m here. What the fuck were you thinking?”

James blinks at him. “Pardon?”

“Taking a bludger for my pathetic excuse of a brother? Really, James? He does not deserve that. God, you could’ve gotten yourself killed. If it had actually hit you full on instead of just the side of your head…”

James cracks a grin. “You care.”

Regulus knits his eyebrows together, glaring. “You fucking idiot.”

James takes his hand. “I’m fine.”

Regulus glowers at him, hand firmly clasped around James’s in a vice grip. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I heard the things Hoganis said about your father.”

James closes his eyes, letting out a tense breath. “It’s fine. I- I was trying not to let it get to me.”

“Mmm.”

“Regulus? What did you do?” 

Reg shrugs, meeting his eyes coolly. “Let Sirius beat him bloody.”

James groans, putting a hand over his face. “Ugh. No. Sirius. That’s only going to bite him in the arse.”

Regulus just shrugs again. “Hoganis deserved it.” 

“How… how bad did he hit him?”

“Bad enough.”

James stares at him for a moment. “Reg…”

“James. I would’ve done it if I could. I still might, honestly. I’m not sure yet.” 

James can tell he’s being serious. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Regulus gives him a look. “I’m not my brother. I wouldn’t do it in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.”

“Regulus.”

Regulus rolls his eyes and squeezes James’s hand. “Doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

James sighs. “Fine. Head hurts.”

Regulus smiles softly. “That makes two of us.”

James feels his eyebrows pinch. “What? Still?”

Regulus briefly looks like he regrets saying anything. He waves his free hand. “It’s fine.”

“Is it still- It’s been weeks-” Regulus had tried to hide it, at first. But James saw the way he’d wince sometimes when he’d look at him, as if James’s very presence was hurting his head. 

He fucking hates Bellatrix for that.

For ruining the sight of him. 

“She did have all summer,” Regulus murmurs. “I got good, though. At blocking her out.”

“I’m glad. I wish it didn’t hurt.”

Regulus’s eyes glint in the moonlight. “It won’t, soon. When I don’t have to hide you from myself anymore.”

James watches him for a long time, trying to commit every inch of his face to memory. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For hiding me. For letting this be something worth hiding.”

Regulus’s eyes go wide, gaze locked on James’s. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. James knows. 

“You should go. Go to bed. Get some actual rest.”

Regulus scoffs softly. “As if you’re going to sleep tonight.”

He knows him too well. James shrugs. “I ran out of your sleeping potions a while ago.”

“I’ll make more tomorrow.”

“Can I help?”

“You mean can you watch?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Go to bed, Reg.”

Regulus stands up slowly, stretching. He leans over James, carding a hand through his hair and then running his thumb down his cheek. “Don’t do that again, Potter.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And if you take one more hit for Sirius I swear to god I’ll-”

“Reg.”

“Right.” Regulus kisses him softly, so softly, then rises and takes a step back. He stares at James for a long moment. His lips part softly and James can see it in his face: the indecision. James says it so he doesn’t have to. 

“I love you.”

Regulus’s eyes soften as he lets out a breath. The curtains flutter in the breeze. “I love you too.”

 

---

 

“I don’t think you’re doing it right,” Remus leans over him and snatches the paper from the desk. “Ursa shines in the west.” 

Regulus just stares at him, unimpressed. Remus pauses. “Doesn’t it?”

“Nope.”

“South?”

Regulus raises his brows and Remus sighs. “North.”

“Good job.”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you were going to leave the star charts to me.”

Remus slides the paper back across the desk. “It was upside down. I couldn’t see it right.”

“Yeah, and the polar opposite of North is West, obviously.”

Remus flips him off and sits back in his chair, staring out the window as Regulus gets back to his drawings. He wonders what Sirius is up to. He then immediately grimaces in embarrassment at the thought and scrubs a hand over his eyes. He should go see James after class. He’s being let out for dinner, much to his relief. James has been pestering Madam Pomfrey to release him for the last day, making sure everyone in a five mile radius knows his opinions on the matter. 

“I think James is being let out soon,” Remus mutters. 

Regulus’s shoulders tense before relaxing, not looking up from the chart. “Why should I care?”

“That was impressive, stopping his fall like that. Wandless magic is- difficult. And the amount of energy you would’ve needed-”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“I also heard what Sirius did to Hoganis.”

“Yeah? Did you bandage his knuckles and give him a feel-better kiss?”

Remus feels himself flush, electing to ignore him. “You need to be more careful if you want to keep this thing hidden. He’s already wondering why you let him go.”

Regulus shrugs, eyes on the paper. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Keep him back?”

“Hoganis deserved everything he got.”

“You’re both insane.”

“You sound like James.”

Remus does a double take. “You’ve seen James?” After the fall, Remus followed Madam Pomfrey to the Hospital wing, where she refused to let him in but did reassure him James would be fine. Since then, he’s only seen him once. 

Regulus gives him a look. “Yes.”

“When?”

Regulus shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Where… where do you two go? When you meet up? Why can’t I see you on the map?” Regulus doesn’t answer him, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Remus frowns. “Do your friends know?”

Regulus looks up, sliding the paper back across the desk and dumping some colored pencils in front of Remus. “All done. Your turn.”

“I despise you.” Remus grits as he picks up a pencil. 

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Remus lowers his head and begins to color in the constellations. 

 

---

 

“I can help.”

“No, you can sit. I’ll do it. You’re concussed.”

“Barely.”

Regulus ignores him, continuing to crush his lavender. James was released after dinner, and almost immediately came to find Regulus. They ended up in the Come and Go room, where Regulus insisted on making some more sleeping potions. 

“Smells good.”

Regulus looks at him over his shoulder. “If you fall asleep Potter, I swear to god…”

“Not asleep- just… resting.” James tips his head back on the couch, staring at him through lowered lids. “I got a letter from my mother today.”

Regulus’s hand stills over the lavender. He knows, at this point, not to be surprised when James switches topics abruptly in the middle of a conversation. “Yeah? What’d she say?”

“Dads… not doing well. He’s tired, all the time.”

Regulus frowns. “The potions aren’t working? His body should be doing well. Recovering, yes, but not… getting worse.”

James shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s related to the potions.”

“What do you mean? What did he tell you?”

James lowers his gaze. “He… erm. He hasn’t written me yet, actually.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Regulus dumps the lavender into the pot and stirs silently. “Has he reached out at all?”

“He’s sent Sirius letters.”

Oh.

“He’s probably busy.”

“Busy doing what? Laying in his bed and thinking about what an awful son he has?”

“He wouldn’t have taken those potions if he didn’t want to. Stop…”

“Stop?”

“Just stop going down whatever mental route your going down right now.” 

“Hm.” James goes back to staring at the ceiling and Regulus pulls out a few more ingredients. As he begins to pour out some oil his forearm suddenly twinges, sharp and hot and twisting. He drops the bottle, letting it clatter on the table beneath him. Behind him, he hears James take a breath. “Reg?”

Shit.

Shit. 

What was that? 

Was that supposed to happen? 

The feeling’s gone now, reduced to a faint itch that makes Regulus want to go back to scratching. The scabs on his skin around his mark are still healing. “Slippery,” he mutters in liue of an explanation, uncapping the bottle of oil. He does his best to ignore the dread curling in his stomach. 

James stands up and joins him at the table, taking the bottle from him and starting to pour it into the cauldron. “Tell me when.”

Regulus waits a beat, heart still pounding. “Stop.”

James sets down the oil and leans over the cauldron, taking a deep breath. “What would I do without you?”

Regulus tries for a smile. “I’ll teach you how to make them so you can keep at it after Hogwarts.”

“Nah, I prefer yours.”

“James-”

Suddenly there’s a resounding boom and the entire castle shakes, dust raining from the ceiling. Both Regulus and James stumble, grabbing the table to steady themselves. The aftershocks rumble and they stare at each other, eyes wide.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t-”

Another boom, another impact. Regulus’s forearm twists again, writhing and itching beneath his shirt. 

No.

No.

They said-

Barty said-

“What’s happening?” James stares, scared, at Regulus.

“I-”

“ATTENTION HOGWARTS STUDENTS. THE CASTLE IS UNDER ATTACK. THIS IS A LOCKDOWN. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. STAY INSIDE CLASSROOMS. MORE INSTRUCTIONS TO COME.”

Regulus’s forearm burns and he nearly doubles over, grip tightening on the table. James takes short breaths, backing up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“They said they wouldn’t,” Regulus hisses. “They said they wouldn’t.”

“He’s here, isn’t he?” James sounds terrified.

“I-” The mark burns again and Regulus cuts himself off, sagging against the table. “They said they wouldn’t.”

“You- you knew?” And that’s not fear in James’s voice, not anymore. That’s anger.

“No, James-

“They were planning this, and you- didn’t say anything?”

“They said they wouldn’t. Barty said-”

There’s another boom and a cackle somewhere echoing from the walls of the castle. Regulus knows that laugh. “Bella,” he gasps.

“Fuck- I’ve got to find Sirius-” James backs up rapidly and Regulus can’t breath. 

“No, James, they’ll kill you.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’ve got to find Sirius.”

“I didn’t know, I swear, Barty said they wouldn’t-”

James tests the door and lets out a breath when it swings open. Apparently the lockdown didn’t affect the Come and Go room. “I can’t- I’ve got to go.” Without looking back, James slips out the door and down the hall.

Regulus grabs his wand and quickly extinguishes the flame under the cauldron, bolting out after him. He’s light headed, though he’s not exactly sure why. There’s a tug in his stomach that corresponds with the itching of his mark, pulling him down the hallway. He takes a few steps and yes. That feels right. He needs to go that way. 

Regulus isn’t stupid. 

He knows the Dark Lord is calling him. He knows he’s probably waiting at the end of that hall. 

He takes another step anyway. 

“Regulus!” 

Another resounding boom shakes the castle, forcing Regulus to grab at the wall. Shit. He turns to find Sirius bolting towards him. 

“Sirius-”

“Have you seen James? His name was here on the map, I don’t-” Sirius takes a panicked breath, looking around. “What the fuck is happening?”

“How did you get out of the lockdown?”

Sirius waves a hand. “Moony’s had a spell for ages. Shit. I need to get to the great hall. Dumbledore’s sending kids who are still outside there.”

“I-” There’s another cackle down the hall and both brothers turn that direction. Regulus’s forearm burns. 

“Bella,” Sirius breathes. 

Regulus takes a step in her direction. Sirius notices. “Regulus.”

He takes another step, and another, as the pit in his gut draws him forward. He has to find him. He has to find the Dark Lord. “Go. Anywhere else.” 

“Regulus, don’t. Don’t do this.”

“I have to. Sirius. Go.” He’s pleading now, begging even as the feeling in his gut and arm draws him backwards. Then he’s tripping over his feet and moving quicker down the hall, turning away from his brother. 

“Then I’m fucking following you.” Sirius is there, by his shoulder, and Regulus wants to sob. “I need to see who’s here, so I can tell Dumbledore- maybe I can fight them-”

“You can’t.” Regulus speeds up, steps getting more decisive the closer he gets. “You know you can’t.”

“Yeah, well, unlike you, I’m not a fucking coward. I’m going to try.”

They round the corner and both come to a halting stop. Bellatrix and the Dark Lord are standing with their hoods lowered across their faces, wands drawn in the middle of the hall. Regulus feels his stomach drop. 

“Regulus,” The Dark Lord says, stepping forward. And god, his voice. Regulus shivers in disgust, resting the dual urges to run forward and get the hell out of there. “And you’ve brought Sirius. What a pleasant surprise.”

Sirius stands completely frozen next to him. Regulus whispers as low as he can: “Go. They’ll only kill you. I’ll try and convince them to leave.”

“Reg-” Sirius croaks.

“They won’t hurt me.” Then, louder, “An honor, my Lord. May I ask why you’re here?”

“Oh, I just decided to pay a visit. Sirius, my child, are you alright? You’re looking a little pale.”

Regulus sees it coming before Sirius does. Bella’s wand flicks and Sirius trips backwards, crying out. Regulus takes a step to the side, blocking him a second too late. “Bella.”

“Yes, Reggie? Why won’t you step aside and let me have some fun.”

“Let him be. We can deal with him later.” Regulus keeps himself calm, keeps his face schooled. He can hear Sirius gasping behind him as he pulls himself to his feet. 

“Oh, you’ve gotten cocky, haven’t you?” Bellatrix takes a step forward and the Dark Lord sighs. 

“Bella, make this quick.”

Sirius rises next to Regulus, still breathing labored, painful breaths. “Stay the fuck away from him-”

“Ohhh Reggie! Did you hear that? Big brother’s still protecting you, even though you’re the only one still standing. How cute.”

Regulus turns his head, just slightly. His heart hammers in his chest. “Sirius. Please, I’m begging you. Go. I can handle them. You can’t. Find Lupin, find Potter, get somewhere safe.”

“Reg-”

“Go. Now.”

Sirius takes a step back, then another, then he turns on his heels and makes a run for it, skidding to a stop at the corner. He turns and Regulus curses him silently. 

Bellatrix shrieks and raises her wand but the curse misses, firing off the floor. Sirius ducks behind the wall. Regulus lets out a breath of relief. 

“Reggie, did you have to spoil my fun?” Bellatrix pouts. Regulus ignores her, eyes only for the Dark Lord. 

“Relax, Bella.” The Dark Lord sighs. “The others are still out there. They’ll do what they’re told while we’re gone. Go help them. 

Bellatrix’s eyes light up. “Of course, My Lord. it’d be my pleasure.” Then she lets out another insane cackle and darts off, shoving past Regulus on her way out and heading the opposite way from where Sirius is hiding. 

Regulus steals himself. “My Lord, what is it you require of me?”

An ugly grin splits his face as he tips his head, looking Regulus up and down. “I told you before, Regulus. I have big plans for you.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Voldemort beckons. “They start now. We’ve got to get outside castle limits.”

Regulus steps forward, the string in his gut following the Dark Lord’s call. Voldemort sets a hand down on Regulus's shoulder, grip tight and bruising. Regulus knows that from where he’s watching Sirius can see how hard he flinches. Regulus finds his brother’s eyes, mouthing ‘Go,’ as clearly as he can. Sirius bites his lip, blood running down the side of his face from whatever Bellatrix hit him with. Regulus tips his chin in a silent plea and finally, finally, Sirius turns and runs, footsteps echoing down the hall. Regulus turns back to the Dark Lord, whose eyes are fixed on the place Sirius just disappeared from. “Where are we going, My Lord?”

“Do not ask questions. Follow me, or face the consequences.”

Run fast, Sirius. 

Keep them safe.

And with his stomach sinking, Regulus moves forward. 

 

---

Remus turns the corner, heart pounding. He has his wand out in front of him, other hand raised and ready. 

Another boom.

He figured out a while ago the Death Eaters were probably attacking the defensive shields Dumbledore raised on the outside the castle. He was trapped in the bathrooms for a brief stint before he remembered his unlocking charm and the door swung open. He’s got to find-

Suddenly someone rounds the corner and full on runs into him. A flurry of black hair and grey, panicked eyes that Remus knows all too well. “Fuck!” Grabbing Sirius’s shoulders he steadies him, scanning him quickly.

There’s blood on his temple, running down the side of his face. Remus swears, trying to wipe it away. “Are you ok? Sirius, what-”

“I’m- I’m fine.” Sirius swipes at the blood with his sleeve, taking short breaths. “Had a bit of a run in with my cousin.”

“We can’t stay here. Too open. Let's find a classroom or-”

“The Great Hall,” Sirius pants. “Dumbledore told the teachers to tell us to meet there.”

“Right. Right. And where’s James?”  

Sirius curses and rips open the map he’s got shoved in his pocket, scanning it quickly. “One floor down, main hall.”

Remus sets his jaw. “Let’s go.” They take off, skidding along the sleek floor and running as quickly as possible down the stairs. It’s terrifying, rounding corners blind, not knowing who's waiting for you or what they’d do if they find you. 

They crash into James, who already has his wand out. He panics for a moment, throwing his hands up before he sees it’s them. “Shit. Are you two ok?”

“Fine,” Remus responds, sending Sirius a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine, at least.” 

Sirius waves him off, but there’s a far away look in his eyes Remus doesn't like. James looks fidgety, glancing over his shoulder and shifting from foot to foot.

“Great Hall,” Sirius mutters, and then they’re off again, sprinting down the stairs. 

“Cousin!” The shriek is loud and piercing, echoing off the walls. 

Behind Remus, Sirius skids to a stop. 

Remus and James trip over themselves in an attempt to slow down. James is muttering a consistent string of ‘shits’ under his breath and Remus, heart in his throat, can’t help but agree. They turn to find Bellatrix waiting at the end of the hall. “You’ve gotta stop running at some point, Sirius!”

“Fuck you!”

Bellatrix laughs, tossing her head back. Remus hears James let out something akin to a growl next to him. “You ran the first time, last year. Left poor little Reggie all alone. And then again, just now! Except… it’s different this time.”

“How so?” Sirius backs up slowly, wand raised. 

“Well this time, Reggie isn’t alone. The Dark Lord’s with him.” Bella grins, and Remus feels James go completely stiff next to him. “And this time,” Bellatrix continues. “I caught you.”

She sends a curse straight for Sirius who barely difflects it, staggering back. Remus tries an expelliarmus charm but she just laughs and side-steps, letting it hit the wall behind her.

Neither of them are skilled enough to fight her, Remus realizes. She’s got years of experience on them. 

“Sirius-”

“Bellatrix. I must ask you to leave my castle.” The voice comes from behind them, loud and authoritative. An overwhelming rush of relief runs down Remus’s spine. Dumbledore. 

The headmaster steps between and in front of them, wand drawn. Bellatrix’s expression shifts from glee to anger, eyes sharpening. “It’s too late, old man. We’re already here. And my colleagues are out there, finding all your little mudbloods and gobbling them up.” 

“I assure you they’re failing.” Dumbledore turns to look at Remus. “The Great Hall. Now. Keep the younger kids inside.”

“But Sir-”’

“Now, children. The time to fight will come later.”

Remus grabs Sirius’s arm and they take off, running again. Distantly Remus hears Bellatrix shout something but he can’t quite make out what. 

Mercifully, the Great Hall doors slam open just as they reach them and slam shut right after. Immediately Sirius doubles over, taking gasping breaths. Remus grabs his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back as he does his best to deal with his internal panic.

There are people watching them, Remus can tell. He can feel their eyes. “Come on, Sirius.” They make their way over to a bench and sit down, glancing around. There’s a smattering of kids spread out among the tables, a few teachers lingering among them- none of their friends. All the kids are exchanging tense whispers, heads bent and faces serious. James slides into the seat across from them, staring at the table.

Sirius leans forward, resting his forehead on the table. His shoulders heave. “I left him.”

Normally this is James’s job. Normally he’d lean forward and rub Sirius’s back, muttering soothing words that only Sirius can hear. James knows how to fix Sirius better than Remus ever will. 

But now James doesn’t move, still staring at that one spot on the table. His hand, where it’s clenched in his lap, is shaking. Remus glances between him and Sirius before realizing he’s going to be zero help. “Sirius. Left who.”

“Regulus. I was with him and then we found Bellatrix and- and him, and he called Regulus over and he went, and then he told me to run, told me he would get them to leave, and I- I did. I ran.”

Remus’s heart clenches. “Dumbledore is handling it. I’m sure he’s fine.” 

“You should’ve seen the way he flinched when Voldemort grabbed him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Remus repeats, a little bit desperate now. He needs Sirius to calm down. Glancing up, he tries to catch James’s eye. “Prongs,” he says, a bit too harshly. James looks up, eyes weirdly blank. 

“What?”

“Can you- I mean- can you help? Or- something?” he nods to Sirius, head still resting on the table below him. 

James’s eyes flick down and then back up. “Prongs-” he frowns, trying again. “I-”

Then he shakes his head, lip curling in disgust, and gets up from the table. He quickly shoves the bench in and turns away, crossing the Great Hall in quick strides. Remus doesn’t see where he goes. 

Placing a hand on Sirius’s back, he leans forward. “Take deep breaths.” Sirius takes a shuddering inhale and twists, wrapping his arms around Remus’s torso. Remus hesitates before hugging him back, not really caring who sees. “It’s okay.”

“Where’d Prongs go?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, a little annoyed. Sirius is suffering, and James, the one person who can consistently put him back together, is nowhere to be found. Not only that, but he actually just got up and left after Remus asked him for help. 

“Is he ok?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s fine.” If James wants to get all pissy and upset over his Death Eater boyfriend, he can do so. But Remus won’t pity him, especially since Regulus made this choice and James knew what he was getting into. This was something that could’ve been prevented, an over-emotional reaction that could’ve been spared, but Sirius, this, now, was inevitable. This was something undeniable. Remus frowns. “Everything’s going to be fine. Dumbledore’s got in under control. You know what they say.”

“Dumbledore’s the only man Voldemort’s actually afraid of,” Sirius manages, and Remus nods.

“Yeah. He’s got it handled.”

“Right.”

Sirius takes a shuddering breath and nods, looking around. Another boom shakes the castle, but it’s weaker this time. Sirius frowns. “We should go back out there.”

Remus snorts. “We should not.”

“We should help- we have a duty-” 

“To what? Get killed? We aren’t ready yet, Sirius. The other students are in lockdown. No one can get in or out. Dumbledore and the teachers are out there, handling it. We wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“We’ll wait it out, and someone will come by to give us an update in a second.”

“Prongs-”

“Sirius. Stop worrying about him. He can handle himself.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s James. He’ll be fine.”

The doors suddenly slam open, Dumbledore striding through. Tons of students pour in behind him. He looks around, placing his wand to his throat to amplify his voice. James suddenly appears behind them, eyes scanning the crowd. Remus shoots him a disappointed look which he promptly ignores, eyes keen and searching. Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but Dumbledore’s booming voice cuts him off.

“The threat has been dealt with. We are no longer under attack. The grounds have been secured and barriers repaired.” He looks over his students as more come through the door behind him. “We’ve only had a few injuries, none serious. At this time we are unsure how the Death Eaters got through the castle’s defenses.” 

Everyone lets out a collective breath.

Dumbledore continues. “All classroom doors have been opened and everyone has been instructed to return to the Great Hall. As far as further precautions go, we will be sleeping here tonight.” Everyone nods, too shaken up to care. “Is that- Professor McGonagal, is-” He mutters something to her, taking the wand away from his neck. She casts a spell, flicking her wand, then says something Remus can't hear. Dumbledore nods and puts the wand back as the doors behind him slam shut. “That’s everyone in the castle, then. Good. We’ll work on setting up beds and lodging while you sit tight. There will be more updates soon. I thank everyone for their bravery.”

Sirius turns to them, cracking a hesitant smile. “No one was seriously injured.”

“That’s great,” Remus says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Ok. Alright.” Slowly he lets the adrenaline leak out of him, taking a deep breath. 

They all go quiet for a moment, listening to the chatter of students all around them. 

“Sirius?” James says, and his voice sounds hard. Remus looks at him, taken aback by the sharpness in his eyes. “Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Where the fuck is Regulus?”

---

 

Somewhere in the night, a cricket chirps. Regulus stares up at the country house in front of him, heart pounding.

“Where are we?” He asks softly. Next to him the Dark Lord sighs. 

“There’s a man in there that works for the Ministry. His name is Harold McPickens. He has two daughters and a wife that’s currently out of town. Her name is Lucy McPickens. She’s fond of wearing bows in her hair.”

Regulus closes his eyes.

“They have two cats, or so Rodolphus says. Recently, Harold printed an article denouncing our beliefs and mission. It was more of a footnote, really. I think the article was actually focusing on different bakeries in London.” The Dark Lord looks down at him, eyes glinting in the streetlamps distant light. 

“Tonight,” he says, “Harold is going to die.”

 

Notes:

tw: school invasion

ugh, finally some action around here. Try not to physically injure your characters for one chapter challenge (impossible)

As always ur comments give me life (and the will to actually write)

Chapter 43: Harold

Notes:

tw at the end

Regulus shudders in the cold night wind. “My Lord?”

“I thought you’d be grateful, Regulus. I’ve gifted you a chance to go on a solo mission with me.”

“Of course.” Regulus’s stomach turns and he curls his fingers into a fist at his side. “I- May I ask why?”

“I already told you, child. He mentioned in an article that he was against our cause.”

“An… an article on pastries, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord looks down at him, fingers twitching. A cut slices through Regulus’s shoulder, tearing his shirt. Regulus makes a sharp sound and staggers to the side, hand coming up to hold the wound. He’s starting to realize who his parents get all their punishments from. 

“I advise you not to question me.”

“Of- of course, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord nods gliding forward up the short walk to the house’s front door. He raises a spindly hand and knocks once, twice, three times before dropping his arm back to his side. Turning slightly, he beckons Regulus over next to him. “Come,” he rasps, and Regulus joins him on the stoop. 

The door swings open, and a man that Regulus presumes to be Harold McPickens stands with one hand on the doorknob. 

He’s got dusty brown hair, Regulus notes, and eyes that shine hazel in the hallway light. His mouth parts slightly, eyes widening as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Run, Regulus screams in his head. He actually takes a step forward, ready to say something, say anything, but it’s too late. Voldemort flicks his wand and Harold is thrown back against the far wall of the hall, mouth parting in a desperate gasp as the wind gets knocked out of him. 

It’s a small blessing the Dark Lord didn’t go straight for the killing curse, Regulus thinks. It would’ve been so easy. Harold would’ve fallen, right then and there, body lying limp on the entry-way door mat before he could even open his mouth to scream. 

But no. As it is, Harold is on his hands and knees next to a broken vase that his flying body knocked off a small table. The Dark Lord moves forward and Regulus follows a second after, heart in his throat. 

“Please,” Harold rasps. “My daughters- please-”

“Crucio.” 

Harold lets out a blood curdling scream as his body begins to writhe on the carpet. Regulus flinches, resisting the urge to cover his ears. He looks like Sirius, Regulus realizes. He sounds like Sirius. Regulus thinks he might be sick. 

“Papa?”

Regulus looks up so fast his neck aches. There’s a little girl on the landing of the stairs, clinging hard to the railing. Her eyes are wide, tears pooling. Next to him, Voldemort sighs. “Regulus. While I’m dealing with this, could you go manage that? Shut her up. Her sister too.”

Regulus nods, entire body trembling. Stumbling to the stairs he gets up them as quickly as he can. The little girl lets out a shriek and backs up, tripping over herself in an attempt to get away from him. Regulus reaches down on instinct and scoops her up, holding her thrashing body to his chest. He opens the door to the bedroom, finding her sister pressed against the far wall. As gently as he can he sets the girl in his arms down, letting her run from him. He kneels on light pink carpet, trying to ignore the piercing sound of their father’s screams beneath them. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” Regulus murmurs. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“P-Papa!” 

“Shh, shh.” Regulus looks around desperately, grabbing a teddy and handing it to one of them, watching as her pudgy little fingers wrap around it and clasp it to her chest. “Your mother, her name’s Lucy. Is that right?” He doesn’t know how to talk to children. He’s never had a chance. They scare him, a bit. Too small. Too breakable. 

The one in front of him now nods, tears streaking down her pink cheeks. “Mama.”

“Right. Right.” Regulus moves back, still shaking. The Dark Lord wants him to kill these two, he knows. Logically, it’s the right move. He should pull out his wand and finish the job with twin flashes of green light. He doubts they’d have time to scream. 

But who's he kidding?

That was never going to fucking happen. 

“Kreature,” he croaks. Instantly there’s a loud pop and his wrinkled old house elf appears next to him, blinking expectantly. Both the girls let out small shrieks. 

“Master Regulus?” Kreature asks, looking around suspiciously. “Where are we?”

“Kreature, listen to me closely. Can you do that?”

Kreature nods, beady eyes fixed on Regulus. “Yes, Master.”

“I need you to take these two to a woman known as Lucy McPickens. Tell her she needs to run- to America, or Canada or something. Kreature, this is very important. Tell her her husband is dead. Tell her there’s no safety in Britain any more.” 

Kreature stares at him with wide eyes. “Master-”

“Now, Kreature. I order you.” 

Without hesitation Kreature grabs both the girls, one in each hand, and disappears with a pop. Regulus lets out a ragged breath and sags back against the wall. Fuck. Fuck.

No.

No time for that.

He rises to his feet and goes to the door. The stairs creak beneath his feet as he tentatively descends. As he gets closer he can hear Harold’s soft whimpers. He follows the sound till he gets to the living room. The Dark Lord, tall and pale in the darkness, stands above the broken man on the floor. 

“Regulus,” he says when the floor creaks under Regulus’s feet. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry, my Lord. I’m here now.”

“Good. What was that sound? Was there a house elf here?”

“Yes, my Lord. I had Kreature come to take away the bodies.” 

On the ground, Harold makes the most devastated sound Regulus has ever heard. His shoulders start to shake as he sinks into the hellish realization that accompanies Regulus’s words. “Kill me,” he whimpers finally. “Please.”

He was holding out for his daughters, Regulus realizes. He was suffering- enduring- for them. 

He finds himself unfamiliar with the concept.  

“Ah- not so fast.” Voldemort turns to look at Regulus. “I think we should have a bit more fun first, don’t you?”

“Naturally, my Lord.”

“Good. I want to see your skills. Crucio him for me, will you?”

Regulus raises his wand, eyes fixed on the man on the carpet. It’s fine. He’s done this before. He’s felt this before. It can be endured. “Crucio.”

Nothing happens. 

“You’ve got to mean it, boy,” Voldemort hisses, grabbing his shoulder. Another cut slashes through the skin on Regulus’s chest, sending him lurching. “Mean it,” he hisses again. 

“I don’t think I-"

“Do you want me to bring you home a failure? Do you want me to dump you on Mummy’s doorstep and tell her you couldn’t even manage a simple spell? Do not make me regret the mark on your arm, boy.”

It’s the tallies, not the tattoo, that Regulus thinks of. 

So he gathers the anger and the fury that sings in him when he looks the Dark Lord in the eye. The burning thrum of rage that floods through him whenever he pictures the scar on Saskia’s cheek. It’s not hard to find. 

He gathers it all into his chest. 

And he means it. 

“Cruio.”

The man below him screams, the sound tearing through his throat and echoing through the room. And it hurts - it’s agony to listen to, and Regulus immediately knows this won’t be the last time he hears it. 

It’s already begun to repeat in the back of his head, over and over, a loop he’d split his skull to get out. 

“Again,” the Dark Lord growls. “Now.”

“Crucio.” 

Another scream. Regulus can feel himself retreating, can feel his walls closing in. The room in his head is splintering, ceiling caving and crashing down. The ocean is drowning him, waves of water smashing against him from every direction. 

Do what he asks, Regulus thinks. Just for now, be complacent. 

“Again.”

“Crucio.”

There’s barely any sound anymore, the man’s vocal cords evidently having been ripped to shreds. He wheezes, and that’s almost worse. It’s an ugly, guttural sound that seems to be the only thing Regulus can register. Endure, he begs in his head. Endure this too. I’ve done it. My brother’s done it. Just keep air in your lungs, keep your heart beating. Endure. 

“Stop.”

Regulus drops his wand hand instantly, shaking so hard he can hardly see straight. “My- my Lord-”

“Kill me,” the man on the ground rasps. “Please. Kill me. Get it over with. I’m begging you.”

Mercy, Regulus thinks. 

At this point, death would be mercy. 

He raises his wand again, the words on his lips, waiting on his tongue. Evil and cruel, but also kind. Also just. 

“Please,” the man begs. 

Regulus opens his mouth.  

“Wait.” The Dark Lord cuts him off, shoving his wand away. “Not yet.”

Harold sags back on the carpet, letting out a ragged sob. “No. Please. Please! Let me die.”

“My Lord, I’ll do it-”

“Regulus, I said no.”

“But-”

Another cut opens itself on Regulus’s thigh, pain he hardly feels lancing through him quick and sharp. “My Lord-”

“I have plans for this one.” From Voldemort's pocket he draws a knife which he flicks open in one hand. Long and silver, it glistens in the faint light. It’s not the same one, not the same knife Regulus used on Saskia- but it's similar enough that the sight makes him sick. 

The Dark Lord raises one hand and Harold’s body shoots into the air, suspended in front of them. The man whimpers, head lolling and barely staying up. His gaze finds Regulus’s, pleading and desperate. 

The Dark Lord tips his head. “Regulus. For the next minute, do not speak. Stay silent.”

Regulus can’t make himself move, can’t even nod, still staring into Harold’s eyes. They’re brown, with flecks of gold around the pupil, undeniably kind. He can’t hear anything except the beat of his heart and the whimpers on the man’s lips. 

The next few events unfold startlingly quickly. 

Voldemort starts muttering something, low and level under his breath- an incantation. Immediately the sheer power of the words hit Regulus square in the chest and he takes a step back, instantly overcome with the desire to leave. To get away. 

Because whatever Voldemort is saying- it’s dark. It’s dark and impure and ugly. The words feel like old, rotting earth and molding decay. They’re undeniably ancient and infested with a power Regulus doesn’t recognize or understand. 

He tries to put his hands up to his ears, tries to cover them and block out whatever he can, but he finds himself unable to move. He’s rooted by some magical force to the earth, paralyzed in every sense of the word. He can’t tear his eyes away from Harold’s desperate gaze, watching in his periphery as Voldemort raises the knife and drags it down the man’s chest. He sees the pain hit the man, sees it bloom in his eyes. Distantly, he thinks Harold might’ve screamed, but the sound is lost to Voldemort’s murmuring. The words increase in volume, some old language Regulus hasn’t been taught. Older than Latin or Greek- this is entirely unknown. 

At the last second the Dark Lord’s long spindly fingers wrap themselves around Regulus's forearm, grip tight and bruising. A flood of anger rushes through him, fury and pain and something disgusting that he wants out . Something that doesn’t belong. The feeling spreads through every vein and artery, turning his blood to poison, churning his stomach and infesting his head. He’s still locked in place when Voldemort’s spell reaches its crescendo and he drives the dagger directly into Harold’s heart.

A millisecond later the spell on his body is released and Regulus distantly registers he’s falling. The world around him goes black just before he hits the ground. 

 

---

 

James feels like he’s going insane. Like actually, clinically, psychotic. Fucked in the head. Batshit crazy. Whatever you want to call it. 

Regulus hasn’t come back to school since the attack two days ago. No one’s seen him, no one’s heard from him, no one has any clue where he went. He’s fine, he hears Remus assuring Sirius. He’ll be fine. 

Which, naturally, makes James want to claw Remus’s throat out. 

Regulus is not fine. Regulus hasn’t been fine in all the time James has known him. He's sure Remus is just comforting Sirius- who, as much as he tries to hide it, has definitely been on edge. Yet somehow it doesn’t seem to matter. Regulus isn’t fine. If he was, he’d be here. He’d be waiting in the Come and Go room with a gentle smile and a soft embrace. 

But he isn’t. 

And James doesn’t fucking know where he is. 

Remus has been shooting him pleading looks every time he catches Sirius staring off into space, but James has been selfishly pretending not to notice. He doesn’t trust himself enough for that conversation right now. 

Classes have just barely started after two nights of sleeping in the Great Hall while teachers made sure the grounds were secure. Practice hasn’t started up yet and kids still aren’t allowed out of the castle, so it’s a miracle James managed to convince McGonagall to let him fly around the Quidditch Pitch. 

It took a fair amount of pleading and convincing. The usual: He’d just about die if he didn’t get any fresh air and then what would the Quidditch team do? They’d lose the championship without him! Gryfindor would be a laughing stock, and that just wouldn’t do.

(He’s pretty sure it was the underlying tone of desperation in his voice that finally convinced her.)

That’s where he is now, lying low across his broom and whipping through the air. He hasn’t flown since the fall, but it’s not like he’s out of practice or anything. He doubts he’ll ever pick up a broom and it’ll feel anything but natural. 

The wind whips his hair away from his face, the grey skies matching his mood. There’s a light fog and whenever he flies through it it’s like a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin. He’s cold and shivering within five minutes. The pain doesn’t matter, though. Flying quiets his head. It makes everything still, calms the noise.

Calms the guilt. 

James squeezes his eyes shut and does another loop around the pitch. The fall weather cuts through his jumper instantly, sending goosebumps shooting up his arms. It’s easier to breathe up here, where the air is moist and cold and clean. The castle, even after just two days, can be a bit stifling. 

They still don’t know why Voldemort attacked. No one does. There are whispers going around that Dumbledore has been questioning Slytherins secretly, but no one can prove it and no information has been released. Peter insists it doesn’t make sense, but shrugs it off when they ask him to explain. 

James does a spin, letting gravity pull his hair towards the earth before he rights himself. He shivers. It really is cold. 

“James!”

James looks down at Remus waiting on the pitch below, hugging himself tightly. He bites his lip and dips, touching down on the ground lightly. He grabs his broom and walks over, watching as his breath clouds in the chilly air. “Hey.”

“Hey. Minerva wants you to come back in.”

James looks back out over the forest. “In a minute?”

“James.”

“Remus.”

“Sirius was wondering where you were.”

“I’ll be in.”

Remus sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Merlin. Would you just…”

“Just?”

“He’s not… I mean, he’s really worried right now. He’s hiding it well, because it’s Regulus, and he still hates him… but. You know. We’re both only children, right? We have no siblings. So I really don’t understand whatever they have going on. It’s like a sort of dance, or something. Which means Sirius hates everything about the guy but is still worried when he disappears.”

James nods as Remus lets out a short breath. Looking down, he continues. “I don’t know how to help. I’ve never been able to do what you do.”

James looks away. “Sorry.”

“Are you ok, James?”

“I’m fine.” James smiles gently. “I’m worried, sure, but I’m fine.”

He must be convincing, because Remus lets out a sigh of relief. “Ok. Ok good.”

“You want me to talk to Sirius.”

“It would be helpful. The day of the attack, in the Great Hall, he needed you and you kind of just… left.”

James looks away, jaw tightening. “Right.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just wanted to see if everyone was ok.”

“You looked angry. Were you mad at Sirius?”

James shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Remus nods, eyes glinting. “Because you shouldn’t be. Regulus went to them. He made his choice. Don’t blame Sirius for his brother's actions.”

James can’t help the face he makes at that. “Remus-”

“I’m just saying. He’s with them right now. You know that, right? And Sirius tried to stop him. He didn’t listen. What are you going to do when he has the Mark on his arm? When he doesn’t come back?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

James stares at Remus cooly. “He’s not cruel, Remus. Sirius doesn't- I don't even know everything he goes through in that house. He doesn’t tell me.”

“But-”

“I’m sick of defending him to you.”

“Aren’t you sick of him doing things you need to defend?”

James shakes his head, lifting his broom. Stalking towards the changing rooms, he glances back over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to Sirius.”

Remus just watches him go. 

 

---

 

Regulus dreams of Saskia. 

She’s curling and twisting in front of him, contorting her snake body in impossible ways around the Chamber. There’s a darkness around the edges of his vision, creeping in slowly. 

You’ve come back.

Regulus blinks at her. Where did I go?

You tell me, Little Prince. You smell different. 

I am different, he says, because it's obvious. 

She turns her face, exposing the gash down her cheek. It’s bloody and raw; fresh. Regulus looks down at the wand in his hand. Did I do that?

Of course you did.

Do you hate me?

In the dream Saskia’s mouth twists, tongue unfurling and flicking the open air. Redemande-moi, une autre fois.

Regulus nods. I will.

You waste no time, Little Prince. You know what you want. 

I’m going to kill him. I’m going to free us from this labyrinth. 

And you think killing him would do that?

Why wouldn’t it? I’ve already made so many sacrifices for him. I’ve done so much- 

When he’s dead, those things will still be done. You will still be you. 

Regulus watches her sadly. I don’t think I’m me now, he says. 

Her eyes glisten in the cool light. After a moment she makes a choking sound and ducks her head forward. Regulus watches in horror as blood seeps between her lips, pouring out of her mouth and sliding down her front. She chokes and gasps, body trashing as the flow of blood becomes a torrent, relentless, enough to drown in. 

I’m sorry, he says, stepping forward. He slips in the blood, falling to his knees, covering his palms in red. I’m sorry. I had no choice. 

Saskia lets out a final gurgle and falls, heavy body hitting the floor. She writhes, twitching and trashing as he crawls towards her. I’m sorry, he says again. 

The blood doesn’t stop, even though she’s gone still. He knows if he stays here, he will drown in it. 

Just like she did. 

Saskia, Saskia-

Regulus startles awake to hands on his shoulders, keeping him pressed into the bed. He twitches and writhes under them, doing his very best to throw him off. They’re talking, he can hear them, but that doesn’t matter right now. Not when Saskia’s bleeding out below him. Not when his hands are still covered in her blood. 

“Stay still-”

Get off me, he gasps, and the hands rip back almost instantly. 

“Speaking in tongues, not eating-”

I need to find Saskia, he manages before the darkness pulls him back down. 

The next time he wakes up, the world seems a lot gentler. There’s a dingy ray of gray light illuminating the dust in the corner of his room near the window. He tips his head on his pillow, staring at it. It’s gentle and soft, and by far the purest thing to ever exist in this house. 

There’s a loud pop by his side but Regulus doesn’t take his eyes off the ray of light. “Kreature,” he croaks, surprised to find his voice raspy and torn. 

“Master is awake!” Kreature hurries around to the other side of the bed so he can see Regulus’s face. “Thank Merlin.” 

“How long…” Regulus takes a shuddering breath. “What-”

“You was feverish! The Dark Lord brought your body home, said you fell ill on the job. Mistress thought you were dead. You didn’t wake up except in little bits and you wouldn’t drink or eat, and you was far too hot. Kreature tries to cool you down, but…”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days, Master. How is you feeling?”

Regulus shuts his eyes. “Thirsty.”

“Of course! Kreature will be getting you some water now.”

There's another pop and Kreature disappears, leaving Regulus alone with his ray of sun. He feels, for lack of a better word, awful. There’s something disgusting lingering in the center of his chest, something he can quite identify yet. Every inch of him aches and the cuts Voldemort left on his shoulders and legs sting under where someone’s wrapped them. He wonders why Kreature didn’t heal him, then decides Walburga must have forbidden it. 

What the fuck happened?

He remembers… patches. Harold, his daughters, the brown stuffed animal. The crucios. The screams. The knife in Voldemort's hand and the look in Harold’s eyes when he was stabbed. The low ancient words that seemed to infest every part of Regulus and turn him to rot. 

Then- then he must have passed out.  

He turns his face, burying as much of it as he can in the pillow. He suddenly can’t bear to look at the sun anymore. He feels the tears of frustration lingering behind his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Not worth it. 

There’s a pop and Kreature reappears, handing him a glass of water. Regulus forces himself to sit up, hissing through his teeth, and drinks it all down immediately. “Another?” He asks, voice still raspy. Kreature beams and pops away. 

Regulus swings his legs around, sitting on the end of the bed. His head spins with the sudden movement. “Fuck,” he murmurs. 

He stands up slowly, putting a hand out to brace himself on the wall. He moves to the hallway, somehow making his way down the stairs. “Mother?”

Walburga looks up from where she’s sitting in the living room, eyes sharp. “Regulus. We have company.”

Regulus takes another step into the room, glancing around. He promptly freezes, entire body going stiff. The Dark Lord stands alongside Lucius and Rodolphus, beady eyes fixed on Regulus’s face. 

Regulus realizes he’s still in his sleep pants and shirt and takes a step back, towards the stairs. “My Lord,” he manages. “I- I wasn’t expecting-”

“Regulus. Glad to see you’ve recovered from your fainting spell.”

The sound of his voice washes over Regulus and Harold’s screaming starts up again in the back of his head, a cruel loop of crucios and anguish. He takes a deep breath. “Thank you, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord casts a look around the room. “Everyone out, save the boy.”

Immediately all the adults rise and file to the door, Walburga casting a stern look back at Regulus on her way out. “Behave,” She mouths.

Regulus nods, the simple motion sending his head spinning again and he’s forced to grab onto the wall. He waits for the Dark Lord to speak, watching him wearily. 

There’s still a hum of adrenaline coursing through him, he realizes. He’s still running off the same fumes that got him through everything that happened since he was taken from the school. It’s nice, he decides. It lets him act first and think later. He wonders what’s going to happen when he crashes. 

“You have questions, I’m sure.” The Dark Lord takes a step forward. “I’d just like to say you did well the other night, Regulus. Your parents must be proud.”

Regulus ducks his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you collapsed.”

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“To cut to the chase: It was a transfusion spell I used on you.” The Dark Lord tilts his head. “Some say it’s classified as ‘dark magic’, but I prefer the term ancient.”

Regulus grips the doorframe tighter, swaying on his feet. “...What?”

“When I grabbed your arm, right before I killed him? I’m sure you felt a rush of heightened emotions.”

“A… transfusion spell?”

“I took that man’s magic, and I channeled its strength to you.” The Dark Lord’s eyes fix on his. “Your body took a minute to adjust, I suppose.”

“But-” Regulus takes a deep shuddering breath. “Why, my Lord?” The Dark Lord raises his brows and Regulus curses himself. “Not that I’m not grateful. Just confused.”

“I told you already: we’re going to be spending a lot more time together. I want only the strongest men by my side. With his magic that could be you, Regulus. I had to find a commoner, someone not too powerful, or it would overwhelm you. You have to start off small with things like this.”

“So I- I’ve got his magic? Inside me?” He can feel it, dirty and disgusting, sticking to his insides and turning his organs to mold. It feels entirely foreign- it’s no wonder his body was rejecting it.

“In simple terms.”

Regulus wants to vomit. Actually, not wants, needs. He shoves a hand over his mouth and turns around, gagging into his palm. He manages to keep it down, barely. He stays bent over for a moment, trying to force air down his windpipe instead of letting whatever meager food Kreature’s managed to get into him back up. 

Slowly he straightens, turning back to the Dark Lord. “Apologies, my Lord,” he croaks. His voice trembles. “It seems the fever isn’t quite gone yet.”

Voldemort’s lip curls in disgust. “Evidently.”

“I should- I should retire to my room, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Wait.” The Dark Lord cocks his head. “Are you not grateful? For the gift I’ve given you?”

Regulus keeps his face neutral. “Of course my Lord. Immensely. Incredibly. I look forward to… experimenting with the new power.”

“Regulus,” The Dark Lord starts. 

“Yes?” 

“Recover.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

As soon as Regulus gets upstairs he goes to the bathroom, collapsing to his knees and vomiting up every last bit of bile in his stomach. It’s gross and intense, but the all consuming desire to get whatever's in him out overwhelms the need to keep his food down.

It doesn’t feel like power, this new thing inside him. At least not any power he wants. It certainly doesn’t feel like Harold. It feels foreign and hostile, something that better belongs in the bottom of a toilet bowl than anywhere in his body. 

He shudders and rests his forehead against his arm, clinging to the cool porcelain. “Kreature,” he whispers. 

Kreature appears next to him, a glass of water in hand. “Master! Kreature was getting you some water but then you was talking to the Dark Lord, so he-” Kreature pauses, taking in the sight before him. “Master is being sick. Has the fever returned? Master Regulus should really be warning Kreature if he feels ill.”

Regulus doesn’t lift his head. “Those girls, from the other night. What did you do with them?”

“Kreature isn’t sure what Master Regulus is-”

“The little girls, Kreature. The ones at that house. What did you do after I told you to take them away?”

“I did what you asked, Master.” Kreature relents. “Kreature took them to their mother. Told her to leave Britain. Told her her husband was dead.” 

Regulus sags back against the toilet bowl. “Good. Thank you. Did she agree to go?”

“I think so.”

“Can you do something else for me?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Never tell anyone what happened that night. If they ask, the girls are dead. You disposed of their bodies.”

Kreature stares at him in horror. “You is asking Kreature to lie?”

“For me, Kreature. To protect me. That's what you want, isn’t it?”

Kreature presses his thin lips together, contemplating. Regulus takes the time to gag again, leaning further over the bowl. Kreature makes a distressed sound behind him. 

“Master Regulus must take deep breaths! You will be losing all the water Kreatures gotten you to drink!”

Regulus groans, putting his head back on his arm. “Please, Kreature.”

“Alright, alright!” Kreature throws up his hands. “If it will be keeping Master Regulus safe, Kreature will not be telling anyone the truth about the girls.”

“Thank you Kreature.” Regulus sits back, taking deep breaths. Kreature silently hands him the glass of water. He takes slow sips. “I’ll be in my bedroom. Can you go tell Mother I’d like to talk to her?”

Kreature nods and vanishes again, leaving Regulus alone. He wonders if he can get the thing inside of him out somehow. Maybe he can just ignore it- shove it down and never speak of it again. 

Maybe.

Slowly he makes his way back to his bedroom, sitting down on the edge of his bed. His mother appears in the doorframe a second later, arms crossed. “Regulus.”

“Mother.” He clasps his hands in his lap. “When may I return to school?”

“Kreature will take you tomorrow afternoon.” She looks him up and down, lip curling. “What did the Dark Lord tell you today?”

“He just said I did a good the other night.”

Walburga frowns. “You were called, yes?”

“Called?”

“At the school. Your Mark, it called you to him?”

“...Yes.” Regulus looks down at his arm. “Why were they there? I thought it wouldn’t make sense to attack Hogwarts. I thought- I thought Rodolphus said they weren’t going to-”

“Honestly, Regulus, grow up.” Walburga moves into the room suddenly and Regulus twitches despite himself. “The Dark Lord had a reason. It’s time for you to understand that life extends past those corrupted walls. Your school mates don’t matter.”

“Right.” 

Walburga crosses to him and grabs his left arm, yanking the sleeve up. He looks away at the last minute, staring at the wall as she examines the mark. She notices. “Regulus. Look here.”

When he hesitates she grabs his chin, forcing his gaze onto the tattoo. It’s dark and ugly, a sharp contrast against the pale skin. “This is your future,” Walburga growls. “This is where your loyalties lie. This. Not that school, not those people. This is who you are now, Regulus.”

He says nothing, staring at the mark for the first time. He sags into the bed unconsciously. This was a mistake, he thinks. He’s in too deep. None of this should’ve gotten this far. It’s all wrong.

And he’s so tired.

“This,” Walburga says, rolling up the rest of his sleeve to reveal the tally marks on his shoulder. “This is where you come from. Regulus, you’ve always been built for this. You’re finally stepping into your role- don’t go soft now.”

“Of course, Maman.”

“Get some rest. Be packed by noon tomorrow. We’ll say our goodbyes then.”

When Regulus finally lets himself sink into his pillow, he doesn’t cry. It’s not that he has to hold the tears back- they just don't come.

 

---

“You know he’s probably ok, right?” James drops into step alongside Sirius, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead. It’s easier with Sirius to just jump straight into the issue- leaving him to bring it up or dancing around it just gets him stuck in his own head and draws out the process. 

Sirius glances at him before looking away again. “Who?”

“Your brother.”

“I don’t really care.”

James shrugs, nodding. “Alright. But he’ll come back, you know.”

Sirius stops walking, taking a deep breath. “I-” his shoulders shudder and he looks down, expression pained. James knows what that look means. 

“Come with me,” He says softly, taking SIrius’s arm and guiding him out the hall and into the courtyard. They settle down against the wall, staring out at the students studying or talking on the grass. Sirius lets out a long breath and James nudges him with his shoulder. “Talk.”

“He’s with them, right?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Remus says he probably is.”

James levels him with a look. “And?”

“And nothing. I don’t care.” Sirius picks a peice of grass and plays with it. “Remus keeps like, trying to get me to admit I’m worried or some shit. I’m not. That fucker made his choice”

James nods, leaning his head back against the wall. “As did you.”

“As did I.”

“But?”

“But he told me to run. Back during the attack. He told me to run, and I did.”

So did I, James thinks. Except he asked me to stay.  

“You were just protecting yourself. Neither of you could’ve fought them.”

“Yeah, no.” Sirius chuckles. “Not even a little bit.”

“So… what's the issue?”

“No issue.”

“Right.”

Remus and Mary appear in the archway to the courtyard, spotting them and heading over. “Hey,” Mary says, settling down infront of James.

“Did you hear they apprehended a Death Eater who was involved in the attack?”

James raises a brow. “Really?” 

Mary sighs. “He’d been obliviated, though. They think he did it to himself.”

“Shit.” He sighs. Unfortunately, that's a fairly smart move. “Can’t they undo it?” 

“Nope. Takes a special kind of Legilimens for that- extremely rare.” 

Sirius leans over. “We should stop talking about the war for, like, a week.”

Mary frowns at him. “What?”

“I’m sick of it. It’s depressing.”

“Really. You don't say.”

“Will they let us go to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Remus nods. “I think they cleared that, yeah.”

“Let’s go, then. We can get drinks or something, go to Honeydukes.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” James says, stretching his arms above his head. “We need to go to Zonko’s, anyway.”

“Another prank?” Mary asks, settling back on her arms. 

James grins. “I think Pads is right. These people need to remember we're still in school. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to have fun.”

“I think they were actually just too busy getting attacked by Death Eaters.”

James waves a hand. “Excuses.” He turns to Sirius. “Are we thinking the suits of armor or the mirrors?”

Mary levels him with a glare. “You better not go near the mirrors, Potter.”

“Mirrors it is then.”

“I-” Sirius cuts himself off, eyes fixed on something over Mary’s head. James follows his gaze, heart plummeting. Both of them shoot to their feet at the same time. 

Crouch, Rosier, and Meadows are walking onto the courtyard. And there he is, talking to Dorcas. 

Regulus.

Notes:

tw:
torture
vomiting

Demandez-moi encore, une autre fois = ask me again, another time

😬😬😬 sorry i love angst sue me

Your comments keep me going thank you everyone's so nice!

Chapter 44: Fall Leaves

James can’t breathe. The astonishing amount of relief that floods him is unparalleled. Regulus is right in front of him and as far as James can tell, in one piece.

Sirius mutters something that sounds a lot like “bloody bastard” under his breath before he sets off, stalking over to the group on the other side of the green. After a second’s delay James follows him, heart in his throat. 

“What the fuck, Reg?” Sirius calls, throwing his arms up. “Back so soon?”

Regulus looks up, eyes widening. James sees it, the moment he takes in Sirius and right behind him, James. He presses his lips together, crossing his arms. James notes the circles under his eyes, dark and deep. 

“Sirius.”

“Where’d you go, little brother? Care to share with the class?”

Regulus shrugs. “Mother wanted me home after the attack.”

“Yes, but you didn’t leave with Mother, did you?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Leave it, Black.” Meadows looks Sirius up and down, frowning. “Not the time.”

“Piss off, Meadows. I need to know where Reg went.”

“Why?” She steps forward, crossing her arms. 

“Really, Dorcas? I thought you were on our side in all this.”

 James watches as Crouch looks over, evidently awaiting her answer just as much as Sirius is. “This isn’t about sides,” Dorcas says eventually. 

“Everythings about sides.” Sirius spits back. “If he’s off planning something dangerous we need to know-”

“I hardly think Reg was plotting the downfall of the magical world while he was taking a few days off.”

“Yeah, but I have no reason to trust that, do I?”

“Dorcas,” Regulus’s voice cuts through. “Leave it. It doesn’t matter.”

“But-”

“But, I’m done with this. I have work to do for Slughorn. See you at dinner.” Regulus turns and heads towards the corridor, leaving the conversation torn and suspended. 

Except. 

Except, he catches James’s eye just before he goes. 

James grabs on to that minimal point of contact and clings to it, gripping it like a lifeline. He needs a way out, needs to go after him, find him, talk to him. He forces himself to turn back to the conversation instead, watching as Dorcas crosses her arms. “Please. Sirius. Leave him alone, just for a bit.”

“Don’t- he’s my brother.”

“Oh, and now that matters? When you want information?”

“What-”

Dorcas steps forward, an angry glint in her eye. “If you want to be his brother, be his brother. All the time, not just when it’s convenient.” 

Sirius lets out a harsh breath. “If he-”

Dorcas holds up a hand. “Don’t try and sort out whatever shit you two have going on through me. He’s the one that needs to hear this.”

“Dorcas,” Barty growls. “Why are we talking to him? Can’t we curse them?”

“No.” Dorcas sends him a look. “You think that would help anything?”

“It’d be fun, at least.”

“I’ll save you the dilemma,” Sirius says, and turns to head after Regulus. James pauses for a moment before starting off after him, tripping a bit in an effort to catch up. 

“Sirius!” He calls, but Sirius doesn’t turn around, waving him off and rounding a corner without looking back. 

James curses, staring after him and then looking back in the direction Regulus went, presumably towards the Come and Go room. 

Fuck it. 

Sirius hasn’t been missing for three days.

James turns and heads down the corridor, making it to the invisible door in record time. Please be inside , he begs. The door appears after a few anxious paces of the hall, and James takes a steadying breath before he opens it. 

Regulus is sitting on the floor, legs drawn up to his chest. He’s leaning up against the bed frame, face buried between his knees. James’s heart drops into his stomach. 

“Reg?” He crosses the room quickly, sinking to the ground before him. He looks so small, like he’s folding in on himself. “Reg, can you look at me?”

Regulus’s shoulders shudder as he lifts his head slowly, eyes dark and miserable. There are deep circles underlying each, face gaunt and shaky. James’s chest clenches. “What happened? Where did you go? I’m sorry I left, I’m so sorry, I should’ve stayed with you, I should’ve believed you, I should never have let this happen-”

He's rambling now, but he can’t bring himself to care. Regulus is here, right here, and there are so many things James wants him to know.

“Where did you go?” He finally asks, staring deep into Regulus’s eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No. You don’t get to do this. Not after three days.”

Regulus looks away, resentful. “Drop it, James. I’m fine.”

James shakes his head resolutely, determined. This time, at least, that excuse wasn’t going to fly. “ No , Regulus.”

“I went to see my family.”

James shakes his head, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “Tell me the truth.”

“I am-”

“Regulus.”

Regulus’s eyes darken at his name. “Some things I can’t talk about, James.”

James throws up his hands, angry. “Why the fuck not? No, really, I’m asking. Why not? You think I’ll be mad? I’m more mad that you disappeared for three days and now refuse to tell me where you were.”

“Because I can’t. I don’t understand why you’re having trouble comprehending-”

“You look like death. You look so fucking worn out. I don’t care what happened, I don’t care what you think I’ll think, I care about you . I care about knowing you’re safe. I care about knowing you’re alive. I care about walking into this room and being totally confident I’ll find you in one piece.”

Regulus takes a breath, arms tightening on his legs. “That’s not fair. I had no choice. I had to go with them.”

“I’m not blaming you,” James pleads, desperation creeping in around the edges of his voice. “I’m not. I’m just asking, Reg.”

Regulus’s face shifts, ever so subtly, sinking into something a lot closer to despair. He goes quiet for a long moment. “He needed me,” Regulus murmurs eventually, voice cracking. “He needed me for a mission. And I couldn't say no, not with Sirius right there, so I went, and he-”

Regulus’s hands tighten around his knees. James reaches out and grabs his shoulders, maybe in an attempt to keep him upright, maybe in an attempt to hold him together. “Hey, take a breath. Ok? Take a breath, then tell me.”

Regulus takes a deep breath and looks away, expression bitter and resentful. “He killed someone.” His eyebrows raise just a bit, looking surprised that he let all that slip. 

James lets out a harsh exhale, tightening his grip on Regulus’s shoulders. “Oh. Fuck." He limits himself to one question at a time. “But he didn’t- he didn’t make you do it?”

Regulus shakes his head, lowering his gaze. “He wouldn’t let me.”

James goes still. “What?”

“He said no. When I tried. With Avada.”

James lets go of his shoulders. “What?”

Regulus looks up, gaze fiery. “Believe me, it would’ve been better. I was trying- I wanted-” He shakes his head. “It would’ve been better.”

James sits back, realization dawning on him. “He was being tortured.”

Regulus’s face twists with something unpleasant, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes.”

“And you wanted to put him out of his misery.”

Regulus reaches up, pressing his hands over his ears. “I don’t- I can’t-”

“Regulus.” James pulls his hands down, cupping his face. Regulus shakes, trembling under his palm. “Regulus, take some breaths. It’s ok. You tried to do the right thing.”

Regulus bends forwards, hunched over his knees. James places a hand on his back, gut twisting. What’s he supposed to do? This, already, was far too much weight for any one person to carry. “Breathe, love.”

“You’ll hate me.”

James almost wants to laugh at that.

“Why do you say that?” 

“He- he did something to me.”

James’s world goes still, every molecule of his being vibrating with fear. Anger. Hate. “What?”

There are tears in Regulus’s eyes, James realizes. “He infested me,” Regulus hisses. “He took the man's magic- or- or something, and he put it in me and- I fucking hate it. I feel disgusting. Gross. I don’t want it, whatever it is. And I can’t get it out. I’ve tried- Merlin, James, I’ve tried so many things, but I can’t get it off. It’s like it's stuck to my soul.”

James can’t do anything except rub Regulus’s shoulders. “I don’t understand-”

“Neither do I but- He did something. A spell. Dark magic. I didn’t want- I mean, it’s awful. I feel awful, all the time.”

“And he-” James feels his muscles tighten as he tries to digest what Regulus is saying. This, already, is far more than he's ever shared before. “He did this to you, why?”

Regulus shrugs miserably. “Says he wants only the strongest by his side. Says he’s trying to make me better.”

“So he’s fucking experimenting on you? Trying out different spells? Like- like some sort of test subject?” He might not understand all of it, but that much is painfully clear. The anger is starting to creep back in, stronger than ever. 

Regulus closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the bedframe. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to rip him apart-”

“James.”

“Did he do anything else?”

Regulus silently reaches up and pulls open the collar of his shirt, revealing a dark crusted-over cut on his chest. James can see another one further up on his shoulder.

James stands up, turning and pacing the room. He tries desperately to get his breathing under control, tries to shove down the multitude of things he’s feeling. He feels the magic inside him thrum with anger, fury sending his fingertips sparking. Why him? He thinks. Why is it always him?  

After a moment he turns back to Regulus, still on the floor, and takes out his wand. He kneels in front of him, pulling down his collar and ignoring the way he flinches. “Episky,” he murmurs, drawing his wand over the cut on his chest. It closes a bit, but it’ll need another round before it’s fully healed. 

Regulus sucks in a breath and moves away, pulling his shirt back up. “No, James, my Mother will-”

James grabs his hands and prys them off, lifting his wand. “Let me do this, Reg. Please. I need to do this.”

Regulus lets out a choked breath when James exposes the skin again, repeating the spell and watching as the cut stitches itself back together. James takes his time, soothing the irritated skin with touch and charms, healing him to the best of his abilities. It feels good; being able to see the physical effect. To help Regulus and actually watch it work. Regulus lets his head drop backwards as James does the cut on his shoulder, smoothing the skin over gently with his thumb when he’s done. He leans down, unable to help himself, and places the gentlest of kisses on the spot. 

It’s not a chore, loving Regulus. Caring for him, putting him back together. It’s simple. Habitual. It hurts, sure, constantly, but he never has to try. 

When he looks back up, he has to take a breath. There’s a single tear escaping Regulus’s closed eye, running down his cheek and gathering on his chin. The rest of his face remains as impassive as ever, save the slight pinch in his brows. James reaches up and softly wipes the tear away, choosing not to comment. He keeps his hand on Regulus’s cheek, brushing his thumb under his eye. 

“What are they doing to you?” He whispers, so soft it’s barely audible. 

Regulus tips his head forward into James’s palm. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just soaking in James’s touch. His eyes stay closed. “I don’t know,” he finally responds, and James’s heart cracks. 

“Let me get you out.” James says.

Regulus barely shakes his head, still leaning into James’s touch. “Not yet.”

And that-

That’s good. That’s progress. Not yet is better than not ever. 

“I love you,” James says. “I could never hate you.” 

As if that should ever have to be clarified. 

Regulus almost smiles. “You’d be surprised.”

James pulls him forward, tucking him to his chest and wrapping his arms around his thin body. If he could take some of the burden off his shoulders, if he could ease whatever aching pain obviously still clings to him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Whatever it took. 

He’d tear the world apart to make him stop shaking. 

The thought scares him. 

Above their heads, the bell rings for dinner. Regulus drops his head against James’s chest and lets out a soft sigh. “Is there any way I could convince you to skip and stay here with me?”

“No chance.” James looks him up and down, frowning at the sharp lines of his cheekbones and outline of his collarbone under his shirt. “You need to eat. You look like you’re wasting away.”

It looks like Regulus wants to say something to that, but instead he shakes his head. “You sound like Kreature.”

“Kreature’s right.”

“As usual,” Regulus murmurs. He slowly pulls back, extracting himself from James’s arms. The space he leaves behind physically hurts, like its emptiness is more of a gaping hole than just an absence of presence. 

“Reg…” James starts, as he rises. “This thing inside you- what does it feel like?”

Regulus closes his eyes, lashes fluttering on his cheeks. “Bad.” He blinks softly, gaze settling on James. “Anger. Death. Decay. Whatever you want to call it.”

“And how did it happen? What did he do?”

“He started saying words, like an incantation, and then took my arm and stabbed-” Regulus cuts himself off, looking down. “I passed out after that. I don’t remember anything else.”

“You passed out?”

Regulus nods. “Kreature said I had a fever. I didn’t wake up for a day.”

James lets out a hiss through his teeth, running his hands over his face. He doesn’t say anything, afraid of his own anger. 

“See?” Regulus says. “This is why I can’t tell you things like this.”

James’s eyes snap open, alighting on him instantly. “What?”

“You get angry, or sad, or upset, and it’s my fault. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

“No. I need to know. I’m glad you told me. I- I’m not mad at you, or angry, or anything. I just can’t stand that people treat you the way they do. And I can’t stand that you let them.” 

“But-”

“Please keep telling me things, Reg. Please don’t stop. I need to know. It kills me to be left in the dark.”

“That’s going to get you in trouble one day, Potter.” Regulus mutters as he moves to the door.

James cocks his head. “What will?”

“Caring too much. It won't bring anything good.” 

He feels his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile, following him out. “Worth it.”

---

 

It takes a while for Sirius to join them at dinner, eyes slightly distant and posture stiff. Remus exchanges a look with James and nudges his shoulder, tipping his head in a silent question. Sirius gives him a small smile and turns back to the food in front of him, eating with his usual vigor. The sight calms Remus a bit.

Peter sits down next to them. “What’s up?”

Remus shrugs as Sirius shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing, Pete. What’s up with you?”

“Finished my nine-page charms essay.”

Sirius raises a brow. “You finished it?”

Pete shrugs. “I invented the spell that finished it. What did you get up to?”

Sirius’s smile slips slightly. “Just hung out in the astronomy tower for a bit. The air’s nice up there.”

Mary slides in next to them, Lily following suit across the table. “Alone?”

Sirius grins at her. “Is that so hard to believe? I can be alone. I can be mysterious.”

Remus sucks in a breath. He saw James go after him. He saw them leave, one after the other. So why the fuck was Sirius on his own? He shouldn’t have been. Not like that.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you alone since I met you.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d have seen it I wouldn’t have been alone, would I?”

Mary sticks her tongue out at him and turns back to her food. Marlene plops down next to Lily. “What's up?”

“We're discussing how Sirius has no ability to be mysterious.”

Marlene nods sagely. “Ah. True.”

“Hey!”

Lily leans back, stretching. “How many of you are staying for Christmas?”

“Not me.” Sirius and James say at the same time. Remus considers. His mother will miss him, sure, but there’s not much waiting for him in that cold little cottage in Wales. 

“I’ll stay,” He says after a moment. “If you are.”

Lily grins at him. “Amazing. Looking forward to it.”

“I have to go home,” Marlene says with a small pout. “But I think Mary’s staying.”

Mary nods around a mouthful of sausage. “Yep.”

“I’m on the fence,” Peter says. “I could go home, but I’ve never spent a Christmas here. And it’s the last one…”

“Aw,” Sirius pouts, “Wait. Now I want to stay too. James, can we stay?” A flutter of hope ignites in Remus’s gut.

James smiles at him, but it looks slightly forced. “I… want to see my father. It’s been a while. You can stay, if you like.”

Sirius’s face sobers immediately, nodding. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. Yeah, we’ll go home then.”

“How’s he doing, James?” Lily gives him a long look. “Are the doctor's treatments working?”

James shrugs, looking very uncomfortable. “Enough.”

“Anyway,” Sirius interrupts, and Remus doesn’t miss the grateful look James sends his way. “I heard the food is shite at Hogwarts over break anyway.”

“That is so not true.”

“I know,” Sirius sighs. “Just trying to make myself feel better.”

Dinner ends shortly after and the girls head off to their dorm, leaving the boys to themselves. Sirius shouts something over his shoulder about the loo and saunters off. Pete disappears to god knows where and James plunks himself down on Remus’s bed, watching him get ready.

“You’re mad at me,” he says simply. Remus sighs. 

“I’m mad at myself. He shouldn’t have been alone.”

“He waved me off.”

Remus gives him a look. “You of all people- He shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I know.”

“I should’ve gone after him. I should’ve known you’d…”

James watches him cooly, not moving. “I did what I needed to do.”

“Is Regulus ok?”

James looks away, and for a brief moment, Remus sees him a little clearer. There’s an ocean of stress hiding under every inch of him, nearly cracking him open. He sees it in the tightness of his brows, the set of his jaw. The way his shoulders tense at every word and question. “...No,” he says finally. “And I don’t- I don’t know how to fix it.”

Remus lets out a breath. “Do you have to?”

James nods instantly, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Of course I do. I- who else can, Remus? Who else will? Of course I do.”

Remus sits down against the back wall. “You wanna know something? I was jealous, when you first got together.” He didn’t think he’d ever admit this. Didn’t think he’d ever find the words for it. 

James’s eyes go big, mouth dropping open. “...of who?”

Remus waves his hand. “No! No. Neither of you. Both. I don’t know. It just seemed so easy, you know? To love each other. It seemed so simple for you two. And I was jealous, because, with me and-” He cuts himself off, sucking in a breath.

“You can say his name,” James says softly. 

“-Sirius,” Remus answers, feeling some weight sink from his shoulders. “It’s so complicated. And convoluted. I mean, I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling. If he even- If he’s even thought of me in that way. And you two- aren't. You knew how you felt about each other. It was so easy.” 

James stares at him for a long moment. “You thought… you were jealous of me and Regulus, because you thought our relationship was… easy?”

Remus, a little bewildered at his reaction, nods. James lets out a startling laugh, bending forward a little. Remus frowns. “What?”

“Regulus and I… easy?” James chuckles one last time, letting out a soft sigh. “Remus, think, for one moment.”

“I just-  I don’t know. You can tell each other how you feel without… I don’t know.” Remus realizes how stupid he sounds and shuts up, hanging his head and staring at the ground. “Forget I said anything.”

“Only behind closed doors,” James says after a beat. “Only in private. I can’t so much as look in his direction with other people around. You can still talk to Sirius, even as friends. You can still put an arm around his shoulders or…” He shakes his head. “Trust him to come back after a break alive and sane. And as far as telling each other how we feel, well. That almost never happens. He… I mean, I can’t blame him. I’m not much better.” He sighs. “It’s not easy, with Regulus and I. It hurts like a bitch, actually.”

Some part of Remus wants to see what James sees in him. Just enough to understand, to sympathize. He’s got a feeling it would make all this a lot easier. “Sirius still hates him.”

James lets out a bitter laugh. “You think?”

“One of us should’ve gone with him tonight.”

“You can’t ask me to choose between them. I won’t.”

“You’ll have to, one day. You know that.” 

James shakes his head. “They’ll talk and make up.”

“That’s not-”

“Remus. I won’t choose.”

Remus exhales, frowning. “I… I don’t like that it’d be a difficult choice.”

James shrugs just as Sirius and Pete burst back into the room, giggling to themselves. “Ok. Ok, let’s go. Prongs, you know the spell?”

James gives Remus one last look before standing. “Course. Here, Padfoot and I’ll go together, and Pete and Moony can take the rest of the castle.”

Remus catches Sirius’s eye for a second before nodding, giving in. “Alright. Let’s not waste anymore time.”

James goes back to grab the wand he left on the bed and Remus and Peter head out the door.

 

---

 

“Speculum loqui.” Sirius points his wand at the mirror and James watches as the glass flashes violet for a moment before returning to normal. For a second, nothing happens. Then their reflections begin to talk.

“Comb that hair, would ya?” James’s reflection snaps, shielding his eyes. “Much too wild.”

“You could fill out a bit more in the shoulders,” Sirius’s reflection comments, looking him up and down. 

The real Sirius and James take a step back, surveying their work. “Wonderful,” Sirius says. 

“Perfectly harmless,” James agrees. 

They do the rest of the sinks in the bathroom before moving on to the next. They let Pete and Remus take the top floors, leaving them with floor four and down. 

“Been too long,” Sirius mutters as they move from sink to sink. “People need to lighten up.”

“Tell me about it.”

“That’s not really your color…” James’s reflection comments from the mirror. James ignores him. 

“When we go home this Christmas let's talk to Monty about the Order,” Sirius says. “I think he might be a bit more willing than Effie.”

James nods. “Yeah, you might be right. He’s got his own revenge to pay, he’ll understand.” 

Sirius swallows, leaning against a sink. “I bet Moody would train us in a heartbeat.”

“He’s actually insane, you know.”

“Yeah, but that’s the kind of attitude we need right now. If he’d been here during the attack instead of Dumbledore, the Death Eaters wouldn't have gotten away so quickly.”

James smirks. “I think Dumbledore’s the only reason we’re alive. I mean, he got like every single student scattered across an 8 storey castle into one room and kept them all safe.”

Sirius’s smile falters. “Not… every student.”

James’s stomach clenches. “No. But you said… you said he left with them. Dumbledore wouldn’t have been able to help in that situation.”

Sirius sighs. “I should’ve…”

“What could you have done? Against Voldemort?” 

“Grabbed him, I don’t know. Physically not let him leave.”

“You think that would work?”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t-” Sirius looks away, jaw tight. For once, the mirror behind them doesn’t comment. “I shouldn’t care this much, should I?”

James softens. “He’s your brother.”

“He cut my chest open.”

James takes a breath. Sirius runs a hand over his side, over the scar James has seen a thousand times. He wonders… “Have you talked to him about that?”

“Not since that night.”

“What if you… did.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “He’ll just tell me they threatened him or some shit. Or he was scared. Or in pain. He’ll give some sort of excuse.”

James can’t help himself. “Excuse? Or reason?”

“Excuse.” Sirius says firmly. “I would never- I’ve withstood worse than whatever he did that night. I would never hurt him, never. No matter what they did to me.”

And maybe James should keep his mouth shut. Maybe this isn’t his business, isn’t his secret to tell. But Moony’s words are playing in the back of his head, a never ending loop.

You’ll have to choose.

And, well, fuck that. 

“What if he was Imperiod?”

James waits with bated breath as Sirius stares at him for a second. Maybe this is it. Maybe they’ll talk. Maybe James will never have to choose between them again. Maybe-

“Reg has been able to throw off an imperious curse since he was twelve.”

James can’t breathe. “What?”

Sirius shrugs. “Mother was using it too much. We learned how to get out of it. It’s not difficult, once you figure it out.” 

“What?”

Sirius gives him an odd look. “What?”

James leans back against the sink. Regulus told him, under veritaserum, that he was imperioed. Unless he could resist that too. He wouldn’t put micro-dosing past Walburga. Or, maybe he just never tried to throw it off in the first place. Which would mean- 

James takes a shaky breath.

Which would mean Regulus was himself when he cut Sirius that night. It was his choice. 

And that would change everything. 

The thought makes him sick. 

“Oh,” he finally says. “Oh. I- I didn’t know that.”

“We should move on.”

“Right.” Slightly numb, James follows him out the door. “Right.”

Down another flight of stares, Sirius leans through a doorway. “Anyone in here?”

James gives him a look. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Like you’ve never had to take a shit at two am.”

James rolls his eyes and pushes past him into the room, scanning it quickly. “Empty.”

“Not quite.”

Both Sirius and James’s head shoot up, staring. Moaning Myrtle floats over a stall, head propped in her hands. “It’s ok you didn’t notice me. No one does.”

“Myrtle-” James takes a step back. “We didn’t see you there.”

“I know.” Myrtle lets out a soft sob then turns her gaze to Sirius. Suddenly she startles back, twisting in the air. “Oh! Sirius.”

Sirius blinks at her. “Hi? Did I startle you?”

“I thought you were your brother. I-” she whimpers. “I got scared.” 

Sirius groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Is he all anyone can talk about? Merlin.”

James finds himself agreeing. He doesn’t want to think about Regulus right now. 

“Is he in here… often?” Sirius asks, looking around. Myrtle sighs. 

“All the time. Not- not this year, I suppose.”

James glances at the sink Regulus charmed open, revealing the tunnel behind. He thinks about the Basilisk below their feet, turning and hissing. Regulus hasn’t visited her at all this year? Why the fuck not?

“Well- that’s bloody weird- but if you’ll excuse us we have some class-A prank pulling to get back to.” Sirius shakes his head and heads over to the sinks, starting the charm on the first one. James goes to the other side, going around to meet Sirius. “Speculum loqui.”

“Pigtails? Still?”

James looks up, furrowing his brow. It wasn't his voice, it wasn't his reflection. Behind him, Myrtle wails. “I can’t change them!” 

“Awful frames, too.” Myrtles reflection comments. 

Myrtle sobs, turning to James and Sirius. “You made the mirrors mean?”

“Uh- We thought ghosts didn’t-”

“When the only thing I have to look at is your skinny excuse for a brother and my reflection? Ugh!”

“Listen, we can change them back-”

Myrtle just lets out another wail and disappears back into her stall, presumably into her toilet. James and Sirius stare after her then at each other. “Well,” James starts. “We might not have thought this part through.” 

“Let's just reverse it.”

They do, leaving the mirrors clean and silent.

“I hate everyone!” Myrtle shouts from her stall. Sirius grimaces. 

“Sorry Myrtle. We reversed it.”

She floats above the wall slightly. “Evil.”

“Not intentionally!”

She crosses her arms, pouting. “Get out of my bathroom.” Then she sweeps forward, hovering right in front of Sirius. “Unless you wanted to stay and chat, pretty boy? My stall’s always open…”

Sirius goes as white as she is and backs up, bumping into James. “Yeah, we better be on our way. Sorry Myrtle. Some other time, hm?” Then he turns and exits very quickly, letting James catch the door behind him. “Merlin,” he mutters once they’re out. “Someone’s gotta stop her.”

James lets out a soft huff, continuing on. “What, you don’t like the idea of a ghost-lover? Might be a bit cold, but I’m sure it’d be fun.”

Sirius grimaces, hitting him in the arm. “Ugh, absolutely not. And isn’t she, like, a second year?”

James shrugs. “Yeah but how many years ago did she die? She’s got to be at least like 30 by now.”

“I’m not into older women.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m saving myself for marriage.”

James laughs out loud at that, then clamps a hand over his mouth. “Fat fucking chance. I thought you were gonna say you’re saving yourself for Moony.”

Sirius chokes, stumbling a bit. James thumps him on the back. “Oops. Forget I said anything.”

“You- I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sirius settles on. 

“Yes you do.”

“No.”

“It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.” James gives him a look. “You don’t think I can tell? You don’t think I’ve been able to tell?” 

“It’s- I’m not gay.” Sirius winces at the words, biting his lip.

James lets out a breath. “Do you have to be? Does it matter?”

“I just- Moony’s a guy.” The note of fear in his voice sends James’s stomach crawling. Sirius said he was fine with James seeing a boy. He said he was fine. But his tone feels too hostile to trust.

“So what.”

“So, I- it’s not-”

“Do you care, or does your mother?” It’s a low blow, but it lands anyway. Sirius’s brows pinch.

“It’s not like that.”

“So you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t think Moony’s hot? That he doesn’t look good in all his jumpers?”
Sirius, evidently, can not. James smirks. “Something’s different nowadays,” he says. “I can sense it.”

Sirius buries his face in his hands. “I might’ve, I mean… we might’ve held. Forget it. Whatever.”

James grins. “Did you hold hands, Sirius?”

Sirius turns beet red, determinedly avoiding James’s gaze. 

“When was this?”

“...the house. Over break.” 

James makes a face. “In my own home? Gross.”

“We were just holding hands! Really, the way Effie phrased it, you’da thought…”

James blanches. “Is that what she meant by sleeping in the same bed?”

“...We might’ve fallen asleep like that.”

James stops walking, leveling him with a blank stare. “You fell asleep holding hands.”

Sirius blushes. 

James groans and shakes his head, starting forward again. “Bloody hell.”

“But it’s not… I mean…”

“So why in Gods name aren’t you fucking?”

Sirius waves him off. “I'm not into blokes. I can't.”

James rolls his eyes in exasperation and throws up his hands. “Ok. Nevermind. If I have to keep talking about this I’m going to rip my eyeballs out.”

“The mirrors really wouldn't like that.”

They duck into another bathroom, the last one. It’s a quick process, and once every mirror is chattering away they take their leave. 

 

---

 

“Those Gryffindor fuckers.”

Regulus looks up from his book as Dorcas storms into the common room, eyes wild. “You noticed,” he comments dryly. 

“How did they get into the dorm?”

Regulus shrugs. “Albert, I imagine.”

“That fucking traitor.”

This morning when Regulus had gone to brush his teeth the mirror had given a snide comment about the circles under his eyes. He’d promptly ignored it and turned around, choosing to look out the window and over the grounds instead. 

Dorcas, evidently, had been a bit more bothered. “How are we supposed to, I don’t know, get ready everyday?”

“You didn’t notice this morning? It’s almost lunch.”

Dorcas shrugs. “I don’t do much in the morning. No reason to stare into the mirror.”

“It’s every bathroom, not just ours.”

Dorcas curses. “Every bathroom in the school?”

“Yeah.”

“Merlin.”

“So you noticed, Dorcas?” Barty and Evan enter, flopping down on either side of Regulus on the couch. “We’ll have to get them back, of course.”

“No we do not.”

“Come on, Reg. It’ll be fun.”

“Leave me out of it.”

“Fine.”

Dorcas takes a seat in the arm chair across from them. “I’m with Reg.”

“Boo, you’re both no fun. God, you’ve been so serious lately.” Barty throws his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. 

“Untrue.” Regulus flips a page in his book.

“True.” Evan gives him a look. “After summer, you kind of… retreated.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows at him, not appreciating this conversation. “If you say so.”

“You should be celebrating,” Barty motions around them. “The Dark Lord was here, in the school, and you got to go on a mission with him.”

Dorcas frowns. “That’s hardly a reason to celebrate, Barty.”

“What are you on about?”

“Kids were injured. Maybe killed, if Dumbledore wasn’t here.”

Barty shrugs. “For the Dark Lord.” 

Dorcas’s eyes narrow. “Children, Barty.”

Barty rolls his eyes. “Hardly.” He turns to Regulus. “Anyway. It’s like you got the mark and then suddenly became all business business.”

Regulus closes his eyes as Dorcas takes a short breath. “What?”

He doesn’t say anything, holding her gaze. Barty speaks up. “You didn’t hear? He’s totally official now. Tattooed and everything.”

“That… what?” He can see it, see her reevaluating and taking stock of the situation. Her brows draw together before wiping clean, leaving only a cold anger behind. “Is that true?” 

Regulus nods, face blank. 

Barty laughs. “Dorcas, grow up. It’s time.”

Dorcas’s eyes flick to him, sharp and mean. “What did you say?”

“I said grow up.”

Her eyes narrow. “And here I thought-” She cuts herself off, turning on the spot. Her braids swing with a shake of her head. She storms off, letting the door to the common room slam behind her.

“Tosser,” Barty mutters, but Regulus ignores him, already standing.

He follows her out, watching her back retreat down the hall. “Dorcas,” he starts. She pauses, turns to face him. 

“I thought you wouldn’t go that far. None of this was supposed to go this far.” She motions at his arm. 

“I-”

“Whatever it takes doesn’t mean fucking murder, Regulus. It doesn’t mean joining him. Fighting by his side.”

Regulus takes a shuddering breath. He thought she, of all people, would understand. “Yes it does. For me, it does. I had no choice. You know that.”

Her gaze softens. “There’s always a choice, Regulus. You had a choice. You made it.”

“What would they have done if I said no?” Regulus tries, moving forward slightly. “I needed to be closer to him, needed him not to be suspicious-”

Dorcas closes her eyes. “And Barty? And Evan? Do they not have a choice either?”

“They… they don’t have the mark yet.”

“They will. They want it.”

“And you don’t?”

She scoffs. “What do you think?”

He remembers all the times she’s looked away when Barty or Evan talked about one of the Dark Lord’s missions or meetings. The expression on her face when she read the morning paper, reporting on another muggle death. The gradual distance that's been growing between their groups, Dorcas and Pandora sitting with them less and less at meal times, going to bed instead of staying up and talking like they used to. He supposes all of that has finally risen to the surface. It's time. “I know.” He says eventually, leaning against the wall.

She rubs a hand over her eyes. “It’s… difficult, being a Slytherin that doesn’t believe in blood purity. It's what everyone expects of me.”

Regulus lets out a breath. “I know.”

“It’s harder being the Black Heir, I’m sure. What a name. What a family to live up to.” She shakes her head. “But I- I can’t follow the three of you down this road. I always thought… I don’t know. I thought the Dark Lo- Voldemort- would be dead by now. I thought we’d never get this far.”

“So… what? What now?”

“I can’t fight for him.”

“Then don’t. Stay out of it. Get a house somewhere, find a girl. Stay away from everything.”

He sees her answer written out in every line of her face. His chest tightens. “No, Dorcas.” 

“I don’t have a choice, Regulus.”

“You just said-”

“That’s different. I’ve got to stop him.”

“So you’d fight them? Barty and Evan? If you saw them out there, you’d hurt them?”

“No. No, of course not. I… I couldn’t. But don’t act like you aren’t on the same side as they are. You might have… different circumstances, but you’re fighting for the same cause.”

”Barty…”

Dorcas sighs. “Barty doesn’t fucking care, not really. Doesn’t matter what side the Dark Lord’s on, it’s his dad he’s worried about. He’ll go in whichever direction his dad doesn’t.”

“I’m doing what I have to.”

There are tears in her eyes, Regulus realizes. “Doesn’t mean I have to be dragged down with you.”

“Dorcas-”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t- I mean, I guess I knew. I don’t know what I thought.” She nods to his arm. He reaches over and digs his fingers into his skin, trying to stop himself from ripping straight through and scraping the mark off. “I knew this would happen. And I knew it’s be over after that.”

Regulus takes a deep breath, stepping back. He keeps his eyes on Dorcas and his hand on his arm. “Just don’t go getting yourself killed.”

She smirks, though it’s shaky. “You know I’m too good for that.”

There's a long moment of silence, broken only by their breaths. Finally, Dorcas speaks up. “It’s the same, Reg. You’re doing what you have to to get through this war.” She offers him a small smile. “So am I.”

“Whatever it takes?” He asks softly.

She nods. “Whatever it takes.”

It’s the last time Dorcas talks to him at Hogwarts.

 

---

 

“Wanna go on a walk?”

Regulus blinks at James, hand still on the doorknob to the Come and Go room. “A walk?”

James shrugs. “Outside. In the fresh air. Under the fall leaves.”

Regulus glances at the potions table in the middle of the room. He supposes there’s nothing to do here. “We can’t be… seen.”

James lights up. “Fine by me. We’ll walk along the edge of the forest.” Pulling something out from behind his back, he tosses it to Regulus, who catches it. 

“A scarf, Potter? A Gryffindor scarf?” 

James just grins at him and Regulus scowls back, trying to ignore the effect the sight has on his chest. He sends him a glare and loops the scarf over his head, adjusting it carefully. When he looks up he finds James’s eyes fixed firmly on him. “What?”

James tilts his head. “Gryffindor colors suit you.”

Regulus hides his flush in his scarf and pulls out his wand, tapping it once. The orange on the scarf promptly turns to green and he gives James a smug look. “Ok. I’m ready.” 

James pouts a little but nods towards the door, beckoning. “Off we go, then.”

The weather outside is crisp and cool, forcing Regulus to bundle into his cloak a little more. Once they’re past the ground limits and no one can see them, James reaches out and takes his hand. Regulus goes stiff instantly. They’ve never done this, he realizes. They’ve never held hands. There’s no need to, when they only see each other behind closed doors. It’s… nice, he decides. Comfortable. 

The leaves are starting to fall from the trees, turning all sorts of colors. Regulus catches James staring out over the branches. “What are you thinking about?” He asks eventually. James blinks, and looks down at him.

His lips press together. “Nothing I want to talk about right now. Let’s just… enjoy this.”

Regulus shoves down whatever foreboding feeling that’s building in his gut and nods. “Ok.”

They settle down under two tall oaks, brown leaves littering the grass. James lays back, staring at the canopy. Regulus copies him, making sure their heads are lined up. He watches as a few leaves twirl down through the air, carpeting the small clearing they’ve found themselves in.

“The mirrors talk,” he comments dryly. James chuckles next to him. 

“Did you enjoy that little surprise?”

“Mm.”

“Don’t worry. They don’t comment on anything the person can’t change.”

Regulus cracks a smile. “What’d it say about you?”

James frowns. “Said my hair was too messy. And that these aren’t the right frames for me.”

Regulus shakes his head, looking back up at the sky. “Well. The mirrors don’t know everything.”

He feels more than sees James’s grin. “You’re so into me.”

Regulus scoffs. “I don’t know where you’re getting all that.”

“You totally think I’m good looking.” 

“Nevermind. I take it back. I’m getting you a comb for Christmas.” 

“You know it won’t do any good.”

Regulus stretches his hands out, running them through the dry grass and leaves. It feels good to be outside- he’s been cooped up in the castle far too long. “Crouch and Rosier wanted to retaliate. You should count yourself lucky.”

“I’m not afraid of them. Let them try.”

“Don’t worry, I told them not to. I do not have the time for a prank war.”

“But they’re such fun, Reg.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mm.”

"You're not going to have time for pranking when you've gone pro, you know."

James tips his head, eyes settling on Regulus. "All the more reason to get the good ones done now. Still haven't decided what you want to be after school?"

Regulus looks up at the trees and thinks of Saskia. "Maybe- I don't know. Maybe a healer, once this is all over. I'd like to make potions that help people."

James's lips part as he stares at him. "God- that's- that's so perfect, Reg. Why didn't I think of that? You'd be so good."

"I'm not sure about that." Regulus can't make himself look at James, the warmth in his gaze suddenly too much to handle. "The potions I make aren't really... healing potions."

"What about the cure for my dad? What about the sleeping draughts you make me practically every week?"

Regulus shrugs. "I guess."

"You‘ll save so many people." James rolls over, lifting himself up on his elbows so he can look down at Regulus. His eyes glitter behind his glasses, dark and full of emotion. “You’re pretty like this.”

Regulus feels himself go red, narrowing his eyes at James. “You can’t- don’t-”

“Can’t what?” James reaches out, pulling a leaf from under Regulus’s hair. He runs a hand over his forehead and nose, down until he grazes his lips. Regulus has never known another hand as gentle as his. 

“Can’t just say stuff like that,” Regulus finishes, heart beating languid and slow as James smiles softly down at him. 

“But you turn such a nice color when I do.” He leans down and kisses him, cupping his face and tilting it up slightly. Regulus reaches a hand upwards, curling it through James’s hair and pulling him lower. He lifts his head slightly to find the best angle and… there. That's it. 

Right there. 

Something warm blossoms in his chest, and for the first time in weeks he can’t feel the encroaching darkness inside him. The mold and decay retreats, leaving only a warm glow in its place. It’s comforting and familiar and so entirely James that Regulus finally feels like he can breathe clean air. 

It's a feeling he’s been searching for since he was eleven and James Potter was offering him a hand on the Hogwarts Express. 

It's natural and so, so right. 

He kisses James harder, cupping his face and brushing his thumb under his eye. He pulls back, resting his forehead against James's. “I love you,” he whispers, and the words come out cracked and dry but true all the same.

It’s the first time he’s said it, he realizes. The first time he hasn’t been just answering James. He feels James respond, feels him pull Regulus tighter against his chest and roll them over so Regulus hovers over him, kissing him into the grass. 

“Regulus,” James whispers, and it’s such a choked and wonderful sound that the glow inside him burns a little brighter. “I- thank you.”

“Hm?” Regulus kisses him again, running his fingers through his hair. “For what?”

“No one’s ever- I mean-” James’s lashes flutter behind his glasses. “No one’s ever wanted me before.” 

Regulus’s heart clenches as he stares down at him. “That’s because they’re all fucking idiots.”

James opens his mouth but no sound comes out. After a moment he closes it, obviously at a loss for words. Regulus looks him over once more then returns to his spot on the grass next to him, resting his head on James’s shoulder. 

“I should be thanking you,” he says after a moment. 

“Why’s that?”

Regulus lets himself smile, though James can't see it. “I was having a bad day. I’m… not, anymore.”

“Why was it so bad?”

Regulus thinks of the tears on Dorcas’s lashes as she walked away from him down that hallway. “Just some… friend stuff. Or. I don’t know. Tensions.” 

“Because?”

“Let’s not.” Regulus shakes his head, the motion as small as he can make it. “Not right now.”  

James lets out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We can talk later. We have to, anyway.”

Regulus feels that dark sense of dread rise again before he shoves it down. It’s a beautiful day and James is so warm and right here, and he doesn’t want anything tainting this moment. He turns, tipping more of his face into James’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, breathing in his scent and letting himself feel the warmth radiating through his shirt. 

It’s alright, he tells himself. You can have this. You can have this moment. 

It’ll come crashing down soon enough. 

In the meantime, Regulus just focuses on aligning his breaths with James’s, syncing the beat of their hearts. It’s slow and comfortable. 

Soft.

Notes:

I was rereading the beginning of this fic and it cured my writing block. It also totally showed me how little I knew about these characters back then. James was written correctly, I think, but Regulus was definitely slightly off. Its fascinating how much more in touch I feel with them now

that being said catch reg being uncharacteristically vulnerable this chapter whatttt

Wtiting that scene with Dorcas felt like how Jegulus break ups go in all other fics it was an interesting experience

(Also 200k is crazy work thanks for accompanying me on this- also 997 kudos?! That's basically 1k that's insane actually thank you very much)

Chapter 45: Imperio

“You’ve still got a whole semester left, surely there’s time to come up with something.” Marlene leans forward in her armchair. 

James shrugs. “It has to be big.”

“Huge,” Peter agrees.  

“How big can a prank get?” Lily asks. 

“Don’t ask.”

“Big enough to be remembered.”

Sirius rests his head on the back of the couch. “We’ve got a legacy to uphold.”

Lily sighs. “Sure.”

James glances at Remus, laying across the length of the couch. He’s got a pillow braced against Sirius’s thigh, staring at the ceiling. James sends a pointed glare at Sirius, who in return stubbornly refuses to meet his gaze. “What if we turn all the Slytherin robes to ball gowns.”

“Not impactful enough,” Remus murmurs sleepily. He’s closed his eyes, evidently still listening. 

“Release a giant spider into the halls?”

“Too dangerous.” Sirius shakes his head. “We can’t actually hurt anyone.”

“What if you join up with the Slytherins?” Lily asks. “If you tag team it, you could have double the effect.”

“No.” All the Marauders say at once. Peter huffs. “That goes against everything we stand for.”

“Speaking of,” Marlene interjects. “Meadows was talking to me earlier.”

Pete stares at her. “Meadows? As in Dorcas? As in the Slytherin probably working for Voldemort?”

James looks up, furrowing his brow. Why would…

“That's the thing,” Marlene says. “She’s not. Working for them that is. She wants to join the Order.”

“What?” Everyone in the room hisses.

Marlene nods. “Yeah. She- I don’t even know. She just pulled me aside and asked me what I knew.”

“She’s just trying to get information, obviously.” Peter says.

Marlene shakes her head. “She said she’d testify in front of Moody. Let him question her, under veritaserum.”

Veritaserum can be resisted, James thinks. The idea makes his stomach hurt.

“Why the sudden switch?” Sirius asks.

Marlene shrugs. “I don’t know. But- is it really that sudden? I mean, when was the last time she sat with Crouch and Black in the Great Hall? Or, like, walked with them.”

“She was with them in the courtyard the other day,” Peter offers. 

Sirius’s gaze sharpens. “Yeah, but remember? When I suggested she was on our side in all this, she didn’t deny it.”

“So… what? Do you think they had a falling out?”

James thinks back to Regulus’s voice, soft and sad. “Just friend stuff.” He’d said. “Tensions.”

Was that this?

“They did,” James says instinctually.  

He looks up to see everyone's gaze on him, all confused. Except Remus, who just closes his eyes again. “I mean,” he says. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. She wants to join the order? That’s sudden.”

“But they’ve always been close. Why now?”

Sirius shrugs. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Are we… I mean, are we going to tell Moody and Dumbledore about this?”

Lily shrugs. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t. I’m sure he already knows, anyway. If she's lying, we’ll figure that out soon enough. And If she’s not, insider information on the Slytherins currently connected to the dark Lord would be immensely helpful. If we can trust her-”

“I trust her.” Marlene says instantly.

Lily rolls her eyes and continues. “If we can trust her, she’d be a great asset. She’s a good witch.”

“She’s a Slytherin.”

“She’s powerful,” Marlene interjects. “Have you seen her in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Her spells are good.”

“Course you’d notice.”

Marlene blushes a furious red, crossing her arms. “Yeah, Evans? What about it.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “All crushes are accepted and cherished here.”

“I don’t- she just-” Marlene huffs before shutting up and pressing her lips together. “Whatever.”

“We can talk to Dumbledore,” James offers. “I’ll ask him about us fighting as well. I want to know when our, like, training begins.”

“After school, I imagine.” Sirius offers.

“Yeah, but we’ve got to go through some sort of orientation or something, right? They won’t just shove us out there?”

“They will if they have to,” Lily says evenly. “Things are getting really bad out there.”

For a moment, the warmth of the fire does little to shut out the cold that seems to seep through the window panes. They go silent, listening to the crackle of the sparks and the hiss of the wind. Pete speaks first. “Isn’t that a little… I don’t know. Isn’t that a little odd?”

James tips his head. “What is?”

“They’d just… shove us out there like that. Put us on the battlefield, untrained, and let us figure it out. Seems dangerous.”

“It is dangerous. That’s not the point.”

Peter frowns. “Hm.”

“Either way,” Marlene says, waving a hand. “If she comes around, which I don’t think she will, I just ask you all be semi-kind. She doesn’t seem to have many friends right now.”

“You want us to take pity on her?”

“No. I think she’d kill you.”

“Right.”

“What if you turn everyone into animals for the day.” Sirius says suddenly.

James considers it. “...Too much risk. If we can’t switch them back…”

“Yeah, but you know you could. Think about the chaos.”

Lily smiles. “No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Alright.”

“We could try and turn all the food invisible. You reach for it, and poof! It’s gone.” Peter offers.

James narrows his eyes. “That would affect us too. I refuse to starve.”

“Surely you can go one day without-”

“Try me.”

“Fine. Does anyone else have any ideas?”

“Be a little quieter. Please.” Sirius cuts through, glaring at all of them.

“Don’t tell me to be quiet!” James says indignantly. 

Sirius narrows his eyes at him and nods to his lap in indication. “Shut it.”

Lily starts to say something then cuts herself off, smiling softly. “I- oh. I see. Right. Maybe it’s time for bed.”

James follows her gaze and finds himself copying her expression. Remus’s head is on Sirius’s thigh, eyes closed and lips gently parted. He’s fully asleep, the pillow discarded behind him. “Ah.”

Everyone rises as Peter and James exchange a look. “Pads, do you wanna come up with us?”

“I- um-” Sirius swallows and looks back down at Remus, his hand hovering over his head. “I think I’m just gonna stay here for a bit. I’ll be up soon.” 

“Sure, mate.” James ruffles his hair as he passes behind the couch. “See you later, yeah?”

Sirius nods. “Uh-huh.”

James pauses at the door to the stairs, giving Sirius one last look. He raises his brows in gentle encouragement before turning and heading up the steps. Pete’s already in bed, curtains drawn closed. 

Going to the map, James whispers the words and watches as the castle unfolds in front of him. Regulus is in his dorm, he notes with an uncomfortable satisfaction. He’s pacing, his little inky footsteps reaching from one wall to the other. James takes a deep breath, staring intently at the spot. He falls back against his bed, watching Regulus’s name go back and forth.

He’s been avoiding him. He feels awful, naturally, but what’s he supposed to do? They have to talk about it, he knows, but it… hurts. The fear and dread in his stomach gnaws at his gut, making him want to curl up and do anything to ignore the pain. 

Reg has been able to throw off an imperious curse since he was twelve.

Twelve. 

But he was fifteen when he cursed Sirius. He was fifteen when he left him with a deep cut stretching across his ribs, one that took most of Effie's homemade remedies to repair. He was fifteen when he soaked Sirius in his own blood and watched as he went out the window. 

He’d told James he’d had no choice. He told him he’d been imperioed.

But. 

But why didn’t he throw it off?

Why didn’t he at least try?

Unless there was no Imperio. Unless Veritiserum could be resisted with tolerance or-

James stares at the little footsteps, lips parting on a silent sharp inhale. 

Or a cure.

Regulus told him he didn’t brew a potion to spare himself from the effects. But he had the materials- there was an entire bloody laboratory right in front of him. He could’ve. And then he could’ve lied about doing so.

And after that- well. After that, he would’ve been free to say whatever he liked. 

James bites his lip, frowning. The dread in his gut curdles, turning circles. He wouldn’t. There was no reason to. It didn’t make sense. 

And yet. 

Maybe it was time to stop avoiding him. 

They need to talk.

 

---

 

When Remus wakes up, it’s to the snap and crackle of sparks. He opens his eyes blearily, so comfortable. The fire dances in front of him, radiating waves of warmth. 

The second thing he notices is the hand on his head. There are fingers gently combing through his hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. It feels, embarrassingly, incredibly good. 

And then everything rushes back in, and he realizes where he fell asleep and exactly whose hand that is. 

His heart jumps in his chest. He takes a deep breath and shifts slightly, blinking as he turns his head up. The fingers in his hair pull back and he immediately mourns the loss. Sirius stares down at him, firelight glinting off his grey eyes. 

“Hi.”

Remus sucks in a breath. His head is on Sirius’s lap, resting gently on his thigh. He has no idea where the initial pillow went, but it’s obviously not a part of the equation anymore. That’s alright, he supposes. This is much more comfortable. “Hi,” he croaks, voice still thick with sleep. 

“You fell asleep.”

“I noticed.” To his chagrin, Remus realizes it would be weird to keep his head in Sirius’s lap. Against his better judgment he sits up, leaning against the back of the couch. The fire crackles. “You didn’t go up with the others?”

Sirius swallows, shaking his head. He really is beautiful, Remus thinks. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

Remus opens his mouth to say something, but finds he can’t. After a moment, he shuts it again. Sirius smiles. “Did you know you don’t breathe through your nose when you sleep?”

Remus flushes. “What?”

“You keep your mouth just slightly open.”

Remus feels his brows pinch in embarrassment. “Oh. Ew. Sorry.”

“No, it means you don’t snore. I like it. It’s cute.”

And-

What?

What?

Sirius goes as red as the fire when he realizes what he said, looking away. “I mean- you know, it’s-”

“Thank you for staying with me,” Remus says, cutting him off. Every inch of him is humming, burning. He can’t figure out if it’s the flames or the boy next to him that’s making him so warm. “You didn’t have to.”

Sirius looks at him through his lashes and Merlin. Remus, still a little faded from sleep whispers: “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What?”

“That.” Remus tips his chin in indication, and then- freezes. Because when he moved his head, Sirius did too. Barely tilting his face, he leaned in just slightly, as if to meet him in the middle. It looked almost instinctual in nature, just a quick little movement that so easily could’ve gone unnoticed.

But Remus noticed. 

God, did he notice. 

Maybe it’s the sleep affecting his decision making, maybe it’s just time. He reaches out and tucks a dark strand of hair behind Sirius’s ear, letting the pads of his fingers brush his cheek. Sirius’s eyes stay wide and searching, fixed determinedly on Remus’s. 

“You didn’t have to stay.” Remus murmurs again. He keeps his hand on Sirius’s face, resting it there under the guise of fixing his hair. 

Sirius takes a shuddering breath. “Of course I did,” he whispers softly. “Of course.”

Remus can’t stop himself from leaning in, tilting closer. And there it is again, the involuntary movement of Sirius’s head, ducking forward.  

When it happens, it’s slightly chunky and disjointed, all lurchy movements and feints towards each other accompanied by heartbeats pounding in their ears. 

Till they're close enough to feel each other's breath.

Till Remus feels more than knows what’s about to happen. 

And when their lips meet in the middle it’s slightly off center and hesitant, but no less perfect for it. 

And all Remus can think is-

Finally. 

Finally. 

The lava of Sirius’s touch erupts, turning Remus’s entire body molten and glowing, a warm beacon of feeling. He brings his other hand up, holding Sirius’s face and pulling him closer. Sirius’s hand comes up too, resting on Remus’s and holding tight. His hair is so soft beneath Remus’s fingers, lips so soft under Remus’s own. 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

Then all too soon Sirius is pulling back and it’s way too abrupt, sending everything crashing down around them. He pushes himself off the couch and stands up, stumbling back. Remus can see his shoulders shaking as he stares at him, wide-eyed and wild. 

The glow inside him darkens, cooling rapidly under the dismay in Sirius’s expression. He forces himself to speak, pushing words through the years of longing and anxiety stored in his throat. “Sirius-”

“That was stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.” Sirius says quickly, and Remus’s resolve begins to crack. “That was a mistake.”

“A mistake.” Remus can hardly hear himself over his heartbeat. 

“We should not have done that.”

Remus just stares. 

“I- It’s not like that,” Sirius tries, then gives up, letting out a deep breath. “I’m not gay, Remus.”

Oh. 

Ow. 

Remus has to resist bringing a hand up to rub at his heart, trying to soothe whatever ache is slowly spreading through his chest. 

“You’re not gay.” He repeats dumbly.

“No. Maybe best we don’t mention this, yeah? No one needs to know. Let’s just forget it.”

Remus can’t breathe. 

He can’t-

He can’t breathe. 

“Oh.”

Sirius nods, eyes glittering. Slowly he backs up, staring at Remus the whole while. He’s still shaking, Remus notes distantly.  

He turns and pushes through the portrait hole, disappearing into the castle. 

Remus bends forward on the couch, arms wrapped around his middle. He takes gasping breaths, trying to force air into his lungs.

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

There’s a hand on his back, he realizes distantly. Someone rubbing in soothing circles, a voice in his ear. He grips his sides, shuddering. 

Maybe James can help.

Maybe he can remind him how breathing works. 

“Remus. Remus, can you hear me? Hey-”

Remus looks up, the sound of the voice surprising him enough to snap him out of it, at least temporarily. 

It’s not who he’s expecting. 

“Pete?” He gasps. “Where’s James?”

Distantly, he notices Peter’s face fall, shoulders sagging a bit. He lets out a breath. “Asleep.” 

Suddenly Remus needs James more than anything, needs to hear his voice. He rises to his feet, making for the stairs. He doesn’t hear Peter follow him, but quite honestly, he doesn’t really care. 

James is sprawled out on his bed, glasses still on, the map laying on his chest. He must’ve fallen asleep staring at it. Remus tucks that thought away for later and leans down, shaking his shoulder. “James,” he hisses, acting on instinct for the second time that night. 

James blinks blearily, pushing the map off him and squinting up at Remus. “Mph. Moony? What is it?”

Remus opens his mouth to tell him and- can’t. 

Not can’t in the way he couldn’t tell them when Regulus cursed him. 

Can’t in a different sense. 

It doesn’t seem to matter. James sees it in his face. “Shit.” He sits up quickly, scooching over on the bed so Remus can take a seat. 

“What happened?” he asks quietly. 

Remus just shakes his head, chest caving in on itself.

James sucks in a breath. “What did he say?”

“He’s said it- it wasn’t like that, James.”

He sees the words hit James, sees him take them in and think them over. Sees them register. “ Oh,” James says softly. “Oh. I’m going to kill him.”

“James.”

“I know. Shit. I’m sorry.” He looks over at Remus and shifts closer, pressing their forearms together. “Hey, take some breaths.”

Remus tries his best, really. He sucks in lungfulls, rubbing his knees with his palms. 

“Good,” James says gently. “Keep doing that.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

James shakes his head, running a hand through his scruffy hair. “No. Not even a little. I don’t know what happened, but-” he lets out a breath. “I promise you did everything right.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No-”

James cuts him off with a firm look. “Remus. However he responded, it wasn’t because of you. He- I mean, you know. He has so much shit going all the time. You think fancying blokes is encouraged in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black? You think they were brought up in a space where that kind of behavior wouldn’t have been brutally punished?”

They, Remus notes distantly. “But I shouldn’t have…”

“Yes, you should’ve. Whatever you did, yes. Don’t put your good sense on his poor reaction.”

“He-”

“Was acting out of fear, Moony.”

Remus takes another deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. Was that true? Did it matter?

“I ruined everything. He left.”

Next to him, James sucks in a breath. “That’s not your fault. He’ll come around, I promise.”

Remus shudders, trying desperately to keep everything in his chest. 

“I thought-” Remus’s voice cracks. “I thought he liked me.”

James says nothing to that, putting an arm around Remus’s shoulders and pulling him in. Remus drops his head, trying to ignore the tears that are starting to slip out of his eyes and down his cheeks, collecting on his chin. He feels truly and completely pathetic. Weak. Young. Like he’s just a boy with a stupid crush. James rubs his arm gently, staying quiet. 

Distantly, Remus wonders if this is what it feels like to be Sirius. To be Regulus. To be on the reviving end of James Potter’s full attention. It’s soft and soothing, entirely warm and comforting. He understands, he thinks, how it could be so magnetic for someone raised in a house as cold as Grimmauld Place. 

“He’ll come around,” James says softly. “And until then, until he realizes what a fucking idiot he’s being, don’t let him get to you.”

Too late, Remus thinks as a tear lands in his lap. Far, far too fucking late. 

James rubs his shoulder, up and down. “It’s ok, Moony. Everything’s going to sort itself out.”

“This is what I mean,” Remus chuckles through his quiet tears. “About you- you and Regulus.”

James stiffens, but only slightly. “Hm?”

“This is why it’s easy.” 

James doesn’t say anything to that, just keeps his arms around him, keeps rubbing his shoulder. “It’s all going to work out,” He says eventually, and Remus isn’t entirely sure who he’s talking to. Maybe James isn’t either. 

 

---

 

“Regulus, my boy!” Slughorn practically shouts, clapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome. Perfectly on time, as always. Take a seat.”

Regulus tips his head in acknowledgement and scans the long table, eventually sliding in across from Mulciber. The Slug Club has become a monthly nuisance. Every single time the dreaded night comes around he has to convince himself to actually go; if only to stay in Slughorn’s good graces. The food is mediocre and the conversation abysmal, but it gets him access to the potions cabinet any time he needs, so he supposes it’s worth it. 

“We were just talking about you.” Slughorn says, settling into a chair of his own.

Regulus looks up. “Sir?”

“Your brother, really. Sirius, right? Yes. Lovely boy.”

Regulus keeps his face blank, gaze locked straight ahead. Out of his periphery he can see Evans staring at him, her green eyes intense and focused. “What about him?”

“The inheritance- your uncles, if I remember correctly- did your parents ever manage to get some of that?”

Somehow the Daily Prophet had gotten ahold of that story and a small article had been included in a recent issue. It’s no wonder Slughorn is dragging it back up- he scours the paper daily to find anything interesting pertaining to anyone he knows. Sometimes Regulus thinks he’s the biggest gossip he knows. 

“No, Sir. The Ministry could find no faults in his will. I believe my brother is still in possession of nearly all the inheritance.”

He sees Lily smile, just slightly, and resists the urge to curse her.

Jealousy is a fickle thing, he thinks. 

“Ah, sorry to hear that. Good for Sirius, though. Maybe we should have him around sometime, eh? Could be fun. We really only have the one Gryffindor anyway, what with Miss Evans here.”

Regulus lets out a light chuckle. “I’m not sure this is exactly his scene, Sir.”

“And anyway-” Mulciber starts, but cuts himself off when he sees Slughorn's disapproving look. 

“No politics at the table, Mulciber.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“So, Mr. Black, they really didn’t get anything?”

“I’m not sure, Sir.”

“Interesting.” Slughorn lets out a long sigh. Then he perks up. “Hey, what about the Potter boy?”

Regulus chokes on his water at the same time Lily lets out a loud cough, covering her mouth. “Sorry, Sir?” He rasps, staring at him. 

“James, right? He’s friends with Sirius. Surely he could convince him to join. Oh! And Miss Evans, you two are particularly close, aren’t you?”

Regulus watches as Lily’s cheeks turn bright pink. Almost subconsciously, his fingers tighten on his glass. “It’s- It’s not like that, Professor,” Lily manages. “But we’re friends, yes.”

“I heard his father’s got a nasty case of DragonPox, is that right?”

“...Yes, Sir.”

“Ouch.” Slughorn lets out a sympathetic hiss, shaking his head. “But he’s not dead! That’s pretty good for someone who's been sick as long as he has.”

“Right.” Lily looks away, and Regulus considers shoving his plate of mashed potatoes into Slughorn’s face. 

“Fleamont Potter. Brilliant man, I’ve heard. Wonderful inventor.” There’s a spark in his eye, one Regulus knows all too well. He’s found himself a new project. “I really should’ve thought of this sooner. Yes. We absolutely must get the Potter boy to join us.”

“I can ask, if you like.” Lily offers. 

“That would be splendid. I’d love to know what he thinks of his fathers mysterious illness. You know, they’re saying it was a Death Eater attack that poisoned him.”

“I don’t-”

“I wonder how much of the inheritance he’ll get. It’s sizable, you know. Not as large as Regulus over here, but then again the house of Black is one of the wealthiest families in Britain.”

“I heard Fleamonts recovering,”  Lily says, and Regulus almost detects a stoney undercurrent to her tone. Good.

“Did you now? That would be very interesting. There’s no cure for dragon pox, you know.”

“Not yet.” Lily says. 

“True. Right you are, my girl. What with your potions skills, you might just invent one.” Slughorn turns to a Hufflepuff fourth year. “Fennwick, how's the season going? I’m told you pulled off a pretty risky Speelman’s Steal the other day.”

Fennwick looks up through a mouthful of sausage. “Hm? Oh- yeah- I guess.”

The conversation spirals and drags on, ending up just as dull as it always seems to be. Finally, Slughorn adjourns and everyone pushes back their chairs, standing up. “Good meeting, everyone. Regulus, would you hang back for a minute?”

Regulus lets out a deep internal sigh and turns around, plastering on a slight smile. “Of course.”

Everyone else trickles out as Slughorn summons a house elf to clean up the table. “Dumbledore has requested to see you in his office.”

Regulus goes still. “Now?”

“Now. He said after dinner would be fine.”

“Do you… do you know why, Sir?”

“I have my suspicions, of course, but I’m sure you do as well. Best head along now, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Of course.” Regulus says, only slightly ruefully. “Thank you for dinner, Professor.”

Slughorn waves him off and Regulus begins the walk to Dumbledore’s office, wondering if there’s any way he could still get out of this. 

The door swings open as soon as he knocks, Dumbledore looking up from his desk. “Regulus. Welcome.”

Slowly and cautiously Regulus steps into the office, looking around. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Have a seat.” Dumbledore motions to the chair waiting at his desk.

Every inch of his body tense, Regulus sits down. Dumbledore nods. “Good. I just had a few questions.”

Regulus raises his brows. “Do I get to choose whether I answer them?”

Dumbledore, unfazed, leans back. “I had to do what was necessary, Mr. Black.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes. You will have your full autonomy.”

Regulus says nothing, staring at him. After a moment, Dumbledore continues. “Dorcas Meadows came to me the other day, asking to join the Order of the Phoenix. Did you know about this?”

Regulus lets out a heavy breath. “No.”

“The truth is imperative, Mr. Black-”

“Then why don’t you lace my tea again?” He snaps.

Dumbledore just smiles.  “Ms. Meadows is going to be training with the Order. Did she discuss this decision with you?”

“No.”

“Do you know what convinced her to change her mind?”

“No.”

“Do you think you could find out?”

“No.”

“Mr. Black-”

“What do you want?” Regulus hisses, fed up. 

Dumbledore leans back, lacing his hands in front of him. “You fear Voldemort.”

Regulus sucks in a breath, narrowing his eyes. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s only natural. Many do, for good reason. But that fear is what gives him power over you- and it is fear that makes us blind to the possibilities of a better path.”

“I never do anything because of fear.”

Dumbledore smiles. “If that were true, Mr. Black, you’d be in a different house.”

“Get to your point.”

“I’m sure your fear has driven you to great heights, Mr. Black. I know you’ve done things you aren’t proud of.”

Regulus tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There is always a way back, if one has the courage to seek it.” Dumbeldore peers at him over his glasses. “You can make the right choice. There’s still time to repent.”

“I have nothing to repent for.”

“I’m the head of the Order, Regulus. You think I don’t know everything there is to know about Tom and his strategies?”

“What-”

“Those Muggles, almost a year ago. Did you know they still haven’t woken up? I believe all of them are still in their beds in St. Mungos.”

Regulus can’t breathe. He says nothing. Dumbledore just inclines his head and continues. “Their families aren’t being given any news, Muggles as they are. I think they believe their loved ones are missing. But for over a year? Well. I imagine they’ve assumed they’re dead by now. They’ve given up hope.” 

Regulus’s throat closes up. “I-”

“It’s Wormwood, obviously. The healers figured it out fairly quickly. It was smart of you to limit the amount. It shows there’s still some good in you somewhere.”

Regulus’s heart drops. He opens his mouth. 

“You’re clever enough to know the exact measurement, I assume. And it was you, wasn’t it? You’re his little potioner.”

Regulus forces himself to speak. His voice comes out cracked and dry. “I’m flattered you think I’d be entrusted with such power.”

Dumbledore’s glasses glint. “There’s no point denying me, Mr. Black.”

Regulus rises, slightly unsteady. “His potioner would have to be high up in the ranks; trusted. I’m just the Black heir- no more, no less.”

“You mean to tell me-”

Regulus opens the door, pausing to send him one last glare. “And besides, you said it yourself. Whoever brewed that potion left out just enough Wormwood to keep those Muggles alive.” He smiles, slow and cruel. “I never would’ve made that mistake.”

He lets the door slam shut after him. 

 

---

 

“Pads, did you finish your transfiguration essay?” James asks, leaning back against the courtyard wall. 

Sirius looks up, gaze unfocused. “Hm? Oh- yeah. Yeah, I did it this morning.”

James nods. “Right. Can I see it? I… didn’t have time.”

Sirius smiles. “It’s not my best work.”

James shrugs. “Anything is better than nothing.”

It’s been awkward, of course. Naturally. The air of tension in the group is so thick it almost hurts his lungs. Remus refuses to look at Sirius, refuses to go near him, but it’s a shameful sort of avoidance, nothing like the anger of last year.

Their eyes dance off eachother, Sirius’s face flushing white the second Remus enters the room. And James- James can’t do shit about it. Technically, he doesn’t even know what happened. He can assume, though, based on Remus’s reaction last night and Sirius’s complete refusal to look either of them in the eye. 

He’s decided not to talk to Sirius about it. This doesn't seem like something he can help him through, and by the sound of it he’s not even supposed to know anything happened in the first place. And anyway, he isn't sure what he can say without betraying Remus’s trust. 

So he stays quiet. 

“You can look at mine,” Marlene offers. James sends her a look. 

“That might be worse.” 

“Fuck right off, then.”

“I’ll look at yours!” Mary says, turning to Marlene. “I totally forgot about that assignment.”

Marlene winks and digs through her bag, handing her a bundle of parchment. “Here. No promises.” Then she looks up, and her eyes go wide.

James follows her gaze and raises his brows in surprise. Dorcas Meadows, looking extremely uncomfortable, stands above them with her arms crossed.

“Hello.” She says stiltedly.  

“Hi.” James says after a moment, when no one else speaks. 

“I- can I sit here?”

“Yes,” Marlene answers quickly. She motions to the grass “Seat’s free.” 

“Right.” Dorcas lowers herself, setting her bag in front of her. “So. I talked to Marlene yesterday, as she might’ve mentioned.”

Sirius nods. “She said, yeah.”

“And then I talked to Dumbledore right after.”

James and Sirius exchange a look. “We didn’t know that bit,” James says. “About… the Order?”

She nods, looking over her shoulder like she’d rather be anywhere else. “He doesn’t trust me, I don’t think.”

“Well-” Sirius starts, but the look Dorcas sends his way shuts him up. 

“I assume he thinks I’m spying, or something. Dick.” Dorcas looks away. “He won’t let me in on anything unless I take Veritaserum.”

“Oh,” Marlene says. “That’s not unheard of. I mean, we probably will too-”

“No, I’m fine with that,” Dorcas waves a hand. “I don’t care. I thought it’d be worse.”

“Like what?” Sirius asks. 

Dorcas shrugs. “Legilimency. Some sort of mental examination.”

“Legilimency?” Sirius chuckles. “That would be a bit far. I mean-  Dumbledore is a fairly reasonable man.”

Dorcas levels him with a cool look. “To Gryffindors, maybe.”

“I hardly think-”

Dorcas ignores him and keeps talking. “He’ll give me the potion this weekend, and then it’s Christmas break. After that, I assume more directions will come.”

No one says anything for a minute. “Welcome,” James offers. “Glad to have you.”

Dorcas nods and offers him a slight smile. “Glad to be here.”

“So- I have to know- what changed your mind?” Sirius asks after a moment.

Dorcas hesitates. “I never changed my mind.”

“What do y’mean?”

“I’ve known what I wanted to do for a very long time.”

Sirius sends her a surprised look. “Oh. Then why the-”

“What?” Dorcas asks, her gaze a challenge. 

“What’s with the crowd you keep?”

“What about them?”

Sirius snorts. “I hardly think Crouch and Rosier are of similar mindsets.”

“And Regulus,” Marlene offers when Sirius declines to do so. 

James is pretty sure he and Dorcas make the same expression at the same time, dark and a little perturbed. “Why do they matter?” She asks.

Sirius tips his head. “I mean- you’ll be on the other side of the war, you know?”

“I know.”

“You’ll probably have to fight them.” 

Dorcas says nothing, pressing her lips together. Sirius continues. 

“Could you do that, do you think? Fight them?”

Dorcas doesn’t blink. “No.”

Marlene looks up, taken aback. “No?”

Dorcas shrugs. “Doesn’t mean there won’t be others that can.”

“I’d do whatever it took.”

Dorcas’s eyes widen, just for a second. “I’m sure you would.”

Sirius nods, looking out across the courtyard. “They would too, you know. All of them. They wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Dorcas says stiltedly.

Sirius just shrugs, still looking away. “Crouch and Rosier would do anything for their cause. So would Regulus.”

Dorcas shakes her head. “I disagree.” She says calmly, shrugging.

“You’re telling me you think my brother wouldn’t kill any of us if given the chance?”

Dorcas just stares at him. “I don’t think he would, no.”

James watches her, taking her in. She’s smart. He knows that much. Cold and calculating. But this, the look in her eye when she talks about Regulus- that’s new. 

He decides he likes her very much. 

“Dorcas,” Marlene asks. “Have you done the transfiguration assignment? You’re in our class, right?”

Dorcas turns to look at her, nodding and pulling the papers out of her bag. “Oh, yeah. Do you want to go over the answers?”

Marlene turns bright red, leaning forward scooching forward a bit on the grass. Sirius, James and Mary all exchange a look.

Oh well.

 

---

 

“You ready for break?”

Evan buries his face in his pillow. “No,” he manages, though it’s muffled. He doesn’t want to think about break right now.

“Me neither,” Barty grimaces, staring up at the ceiling. “My father said I’m not allowed out for the entire two weeks.”

Evan raises himself on his elbows, staring at Barty. “What? What does he expect you to do then?”

Barty shrugs, not looking at him. “Stay inside, learn Magical Law, study. Homework, maybe.”

“Idiot,” Evan breathes. 

Barty nods, smirking. “Well. It’s not like I’m actually going to listen. I’ll come see you.”

Evan gives him a look. “Not if it’s not worth it, Barty.”

Bary pushes himself up, grinning before capturing Evan’s mouth in a sharp kiss. “It’s always worth it.”

Evan tries to ignore the bloody riot of an effect those words have on his stomach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah right. You just can’t go two weeks without fucking something.”

“Like you could do much better.”

Evan leans down and kisses him again, deep and intense. He wants Barty out of breath by the end of this. “Maybe not.”

“Besides,” Barty says, breaking away. “I might not make it out at this break.”

Evan frowns. “Why not?”

Barty doesn’t look at him, eyes glinting. “He put me under for 3 days last time.”

“Shit,” Evan breathes out. 

Barty Crouch Sr. has always been fond of the imperious curse. He’s particularly trigger-happy with his son, especially recently. It’s an easy way to ensure the correct result. To ensure the perfect child. 

It also makes him a fucking hypocrite, Evan thinks. 

Barty hates it. Hates it more than he’s ever hated anything. Sometimes, late at night, when it’s just the two of them undercover of darkness, he tells him about it. He whispers about the way it creeps up on you, the way it latches on to every corner of your brain and fills it with a deep sludge that’s impossible to push through.

“You can still see, though.” Barty had murmured softly. “You can still think. You just can’t do anything about it.”

It’s just little things he’s forced to do, really. Parties, social events, dinners. Just something to sit through, his father making sure he doesn’t cause a scene. 

But those add up. 

“He’s getting longer with it,” Barty says, turning to face Evan on the bed. “3 days. I can’t- it’s all blurry. I can’t really remember any of it.”

“Maybe that's good,” Evan says after a moment. 

Barty just shakes his head. “It feels like my lifes slipping away, and I wasn’t even there to watch it go. I can’t remember . It’s three entire days lost.”

“Come stay at mine, then.” Evan offers, as he always does.

“How’d you think that would go down?” Barty declines, as he always does. “He’ll put me under for an entire month or something when I come back. Not worth it.”

“I just-”

“Drop it, Rosier. It doesn’t matter.”

Always Rosier or Evan. Never baby. Never love. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Evan, still leaning over him, signs. “Is Dorcas-”

“Don’t.”

He frowns. “What am I supposed to talk about then?”

Barty shrugs, flashing that sharp grin. “Don’t.”

Evan leans down to kiss that look off his face and decides to take his advice. 

 

---

 

That night, Regulus goes to see James. It’s been long enough, he supposes. The door to the come and go room swings open and James looks up from where he’s standing by the table. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips before it vanishes again. 

Regulus lets out a breath, shutting the door behind him. He’s missed him, he realizes. 

Regulus moves forwards and James-

James takes a step back. 

Regulus closes his eyes briefly. It was bound to happen, he supposes. What, he doesn’t know. 

Something.

This.

The Mark on his arm burns. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks finally. 

“I need you to tell me what happened that night.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

James gives him a pleading look. “Reg.”

Regulus wraps his arms around himself, watching him cooly. “James.”

“Sirius’s scar. How did he get it?” James keeps himself at the other end of the room, posture stiff and uncomfortable. 

The words send Regulus’s gut twisting with anxiety. “I told you-”

“No. I want- I want whatever you didn’t tell me. I want the truth.”

At that-

That just doesn’t make sense.

“What?” Regulus hisses. “I was literally under Veritaserum.”

James shrugs. “That can be resisted with a cure, for which you had all the ingredients right in front of you.”

“Why the fuck would I tell you everything I did, then?”

James sends a pained look up at the ceiling, like this isn’t going how he wanted it to. Regulus feels no pity- he thought James, at least, would trust him on this. “I talked to Sirius,” He says after a moment.

Regulus pauses. “And?”

“He says you’ve been able to throw off an Imperio since you were twelve.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

“And- he thinks that's what happened?” Regulus asks, but it comes out cracked and choked, because this simultaneously makes everything better and so much worse. 

“He doesn’t seem to care.”

“He doesn’t know I was Imperioed,” Regulus says, because he certainly hasn’t told him, and he needs to get his facts straight. 

James shakes his head. “I don’t think it’d matter either way. If you were, sounds like it wouldn’t make a difference, since you could’ve thrown it off.”

Regulus turns around, facing away from James. He just- he just needs a moment. Then he lets out a small chuckle, unable to help it. 

“Reg?” James asks softly from behind him.

“He’s so fucking stupid,” Regulus manages, turning back around. “Oh my god. He thinks- he thinks our mother imperioed me from all the way across the room?”

James’s gaze stays wary, body still stiff. “Is that not what happened?”

Regulus brings up a hand, running it through his hair. “No.”

“Then-”

“My father did it. From behind. He had a wand up against my back, one Sirius probably couldn’t see.”

James’s face stays guarded, closed off, but there are cracks, and Regulus can see them widening. “So-”

“So. I’ve been able to resist Walburga’s curse since I was twelve. Orion- not so much. That was the first time he’d ever used it on me.”

James sucks in a shuddering breath, expression crashing into relief. “Oh. Fuck. Thank god.”

He takes some steps forward, but it’s Regulus’s turn to back up. James pauses. “You thought I’d do that voluntarily?” Regulus asks softly.

“No, I just didn’t know- I was confused-”

“But Sirius said that, and you immediately believed him? You immediately trusted that I’d hurt him so badly then lie to you about it?”

“No. I just needed to ask. I just needed to make sure.”

Regulus lets out a breath. “Because you didn’t trust me the first time. When I was under veriteserum, and told you I had no choice.”

James pauses, opening his mouth but not speaking. Regulus scoffs. “You assumed I made a cure and then didn’t say anything, just to lie to you more effectively?”

“I don’t know what I thought,” James says, eyes wide. 

“Right.”

“Please, Regulus, I’m sorry. I was wrong. But I needed to make sure, right?”

Regulus says nothing as James walks up to him, tucking a curl behind his ear. “I needed to know.”

Regulus ducks his head, pressing his cheek into James’s palm, just barely. “I have to go,” He says after a second, because the waters are rising and he’s not sure he can keep them down this time. 

“Reg-”

“I can’t- I have to-”

He turns and takes off, heart pounding as he runs up the stairs and down the halls. Sirius thought his mother was the one to cast the curse. That’s why he didn’t care if Regulus was Imperioed. That’s why-

He opens the door to the astronomy tower and goes to the window, leaning out into the night, taking deep gulps of cold fall air. The stars above him glint and turn, leaving him stranded on the ground below.

“Reg?”

The world has a cruel sense of humor, Regulus thinks. He’d laugh if it wasn’t so god damn awful. Really, it’s fucked up. 

He hangs his head and doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t need to. 

He knows that voice. 

He's known it since the cradle.

“Sirius.”

Notes:

I'm happy/reluctant to announce this story is going to be no MCD. I will update the tags accordingly

This does not mean anyone who is not a main character is safe. Absolutely no promises.

over a thousand kudos?! What?! You're kidding?! that is insane thank you so much everyone I read every single comment and eat each one up

Chapter 46: Constellations

“What are you doing up here?” Sirius asks, voice lacking its usual bite.

Regulus still can’t bring himself to look at him, taking deep and aching breaths. “Needed some fresh air.”

“Me too.” 

Neither of them say anything for a moment, and Regulus revels in the silence, the gentleness of whatever weird false truce they’ve found themselves in. 

Sirius, of course, is the one that breaks it. “Slughorn asked me to join his little club today.”

Regulus closes his eyes, leaning into the darkness. “I told him you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I can speak for myself.”

“So what’d you say?”

There’s a brief pause. “...No.”

Regulus snorts bitterly. “Right.”

“Dorcas is hanging around us now.” 

The words feel like daggers. Regulus takes care to keep the pain out of his voice. “Good for you.” 

“What’s that about?”

“Ask her yourself.”

Sirius goes quiet for another moment. “Why are you really up here?”

Regulus leans down, resting his head on his forearms on the window sill. “I told you.”

“You tell me a lot of things.”

“Do I? I make an effort not to.”

“You could start with where you were after the last lockdown. Voldemort just took you- ”

“This again.” Regulus mumbles, energy long ago depleted. 

“I’m just saying.”

“Mother wanted to see me.”

“You were never any good at lying. Besides- I saw you go with… him.”

To that, Regulus has nothing to say. It doesn’t matter- Sirius more than makes up for the lack. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Regulus scoffs. “Why won’t I tell you?”

“What happened that’s so awful you can’t tell me?”

Regulus thinks of Harold on the floor, writhing in pain from spells Regulus cast. The look on his daughters' face. 

He died thinking his children had been slaughtered in the room above. 

Regulus takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing of importance.”

“Then what do you know? What did he tell you?”

“You sound like Dumbledore.”

“Maybe Dumbledore’s got the right idea. If you have useful information-”

“Who says I do?”

It’s Sirius’s turn to scoff. “You’ve always been their favorite. There’s nothing they wouldn’t tell you.”

Regulus wants to be alone. He wants to lick his wounds in peace and quiet, up here with just the stars to keep him company. He wants Sirius to go away. No such luck. “I think you assume I have more power than I do,” He says. 

“No, I think I’ve just stopped underestimating you.”

Regulus lets out a breath at that, leaning further over the railing. The night breeze drifts through his hair. If he falls, he wonders, would Sirius move to catch him? “What does that mean?” He asks eventually. 

“I used to think you were naive. Or helpless. Or- just- there. You know?”

“I was,” Regulus says softly. Behind him, he hears Sirius shift, coming up to lean against the railing next to him. 

“Yeah. You were. Until you weren't. Until you were reaching for your wand and cutting my chest open because mummy said so.”

Regulus shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s trying so hard- trying so desperately hard- to keep everything in. To keep his emotions shut and trapped behind the door Sirius taught him how to close.

Strangely enough, it’s Saskia that breaks through.

They’d talked about this once. This moment. This conversation. 

Are you afraid that if you tell him that you didn’t mean to, that you were controlled, that you had no choice, he still won’t forgive you? 

She wanted him to do this- told him to, even. And really, he owes her this much. 

So it’s for no one but Saskia when he says: “That's not true.” 

Sirius turns to stare at him, eyes piercing in the dark. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“That wasn’t what happened.”

Sirius scoffs. “I have the scar to prove it.” 

Regulus shakes his head again. “I mean- it wasn’t because Mother said to.”

“Then why the fuck did you do it?”

He pictures Saskia’s face, the sound of her voice. Maybe this is a risk he needs to take. “I had no choice.”

“What-”

“I was imperioed.”

Sirius releases a long breath into the night. “Reg,” he says, voice ladened with disappointment. 

“Not by Walburga.”

Sirius makes a sharp sound, head whipping to look at him. “What?”

“Orion.” Regulus whispers, finally looking at his brother. 

Their eyes lock, and everything changes. 

Sirius pushes off the rail, takes a few steps towards him, lips parting. Regulus swallows, straightening up to match him. He can hear his heartbeat, echoing in the silence of the night. 

“I tried to tell you,” Regulus manages. “That night. After I brought you to my room. I tried to tell you. And you-”

“And I just left.” Sirius says, eyes fixed on him. 

Regulus nods, biting his cheek. 

“Oh.” Sirius takes a few steps backwards, raising a hand to run through his hair. His face has broken open, every emotion layed out clear and plain.  “Oh. You- you didn’t have a choice.”

Regulus shakes his head. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Orion’s imperio is-”

“Different.” Regulus looks out. “I didn’t know how to throw it off. I couldn’t- it was smothering, Sirius. I couldn’t fight my way out.” 

“Why didn’t you- why didn’t you tell me later? Why didn’t you find me at school?”

Regulus looks down, heart clenching. “I figured if you believed I’d do that willingly, you didn’t deserve the truth.”

Sirius sucks in a breath. “That’s so- I mean. God. And…”

“And what?” 

“Why didn’t you follow me out?”

Regulus looks out into the night. “You know I couldn’t.”

“I would’ve helped you. James would’ve helped you.”

Regulus feels his lips twitch. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He says softly. 

Sirius shakes his head. “You don’t understand-”

“I understand everything.”

“You’ve done this to yourself,” Sirius says, and the words feel like a physical bludger to his stomach. Regulus takes a step back. “You could've gotten out. You could’ve. You chose to stay.”

“You saw what they did to you.”

“No, I saw what you did to me-”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

Sirius takes a deep and shaky breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I… couldn’t.”

“That’s not true. I-” He cuts himself off, expression bitter. “I thought you were just like the rest of them. And you let me.”

“I had no choice,” Regulus says again, because now that it’s out it's all he can do not to cram the words down Sirius’s throat till he hears him properly. 

“You should’ve said something, then. I would’ve gotten you out, or come back for you, or-”

And Merlin, that hurts. Regulus ignores the scratch in his voice. “Would you have believed me? If I somehow got through to you that night, if I convinced you it was Orion that imperioed me, not Walburga, would you have actually listened? Or would you have gone out that window anyway.”

Sirius swallows. “I was angry-”

“Too angry to listen to me? Too angry to give me a second to explain? You assumed the worst instantly, Sirius. I never had a chance.” Regulus shuts his eyes, wiping a hand over his face. First James and now Sirius. He couldn’t- 

“You didn’t give me a reason to listen. Even before that night, you were slipping. I saw it. You let them do whatever they wanted, walk all over you, just to stay out of it. You were already as bad as them. That just sealed the deal. And after, too- what did you do? What do you still do? You go back to them every break. You keep their secrets. You let Voldemort- fucking Voldemort - drag you out of school for a few days then refuse to tell anyone where you went.”

Regulus feels the long familiar anger and injustice bubble back to the surface. “You have no right-”

“What, Reg? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of them? You think I don’t know the pressure of being the Black heir?”

“I don’t think you know what it’s like being the only Black heir, no.”

“You could turn them away, you could refuse, you could-”

“What, Sirius?”

“If they asked you to take the Mark,” Sirius says, voice cold. “If Voldemort asked you to take the Mark, would you say no?”

Regulus goes still, every inch of his body humming. The wind whips around them, picking up in intensity. There’s nothing he can say, he knows. Nothing he can do to fix what's already been done. He holds Sirius’s eyes, watches them change. Watches him re-evaluate.

The silence stretches. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Sirius whispers finally, voice soft and vulnerable. Barely audible over the hiss of the wind through nearby trees. “Tell me you didn't, Reg.”

Regulus, feeling some part of his chest crack, says nothing.

Sirius takes a shuddering breath and a few steps back. “Please,” He murmurs, and Regulus doesn’t think either of them know who he’s talking to. And then, in the darkness of night: “Show me your arm.”

Regulus can’t feel his fingers, or his face, or any part of himself. Everything is numb, trembling under the weight of Sirius’s gaze. “I had to,” he whispers finally. “I had no choice.”

Sirius laughs then, but it breaks halfway through. “Fuck. Fuck that, fuck you, fuck them-”

Regulus’s voice tears and rips in half. “I had no choice.”

“You keep saying that. “ Sirius ducks his head, chest heaving. “Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”

“I- please-”

“No. I- I can’t. I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.” Sirius backs up, shaking his head.

“Please, Sirius,” Regulus begs, chest clenching and ribs puncturing his lungs. He can’t breathe. 

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“I had to.”

“You didn’t.” Sirius shudders, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to, Regulus. You never had to. There were other options.”

“I did it for you,” Regulus bursts, every inch of him exposed now, a live wire.  

Sirius stares at him. “What?”

But when Regulus opens his mouth, nothing comes out. He can’t tell him. He can’t. If he did, the Potters would have to move or put up more charms. It would alert Voldemort, and Walburga, and then all eyes would be on him. And James. And Sirius. And that- that would be worse.

Ignorance is protection, at least for now. 

So he’ll keep his mouth shut, if it means his brother and James stay safe. 

Even if it means the mark on his arm goes unexplained. 

Even if it means Sirius hates him. 

Even if it means losing both of them. 

“What are you talking about?” Sirius asks again, voice hard but waiting. Hesitant and hopeful- leaving room for an explanation.

“Nevermind.” Regulus says softly, watching as Sirius’s face shuts down again. “It’s nothing.”

“I thought-”

“What?”

“I thought there was still time.”

Regulus lets that sink in, watching a tear on Sirius’s cheek get furiously swiped away by a sleeve. He says nothing.

His brother looks up, eyes glittering. His voice tears and fractures with pain. “Why?”

Regulus looks out over the railing at the stars glinting above them. “I had to choose if I was going to be the son she wanted or the brother you did.” He shakes his head, breathing the words into the night like a prayer, begging Sirius to understand. “At the end of the day, one of those choices wasn’t a death sentence.” 

Sirius stares at him, taking a deep breath. The wind whistles in the trees.  “That’s a weak excuse, Reg.”

Regulus presses his lips together, watching Sirius back towards the door. He fights, hard, to keep everything in. To keep it all contained. To keep every emotion that’s punching and stabbing at his skin from the inside to stay where they are- invisible and hidden, even as the pressure grows. Even as he’s about to burst. 

Sirius pauses at the door and looks back, pressing a hand hard against his mouth. Their eyes lock, grey on grey, fire on ice, and then he’s gone. Down the stairs and around the corner, somewhere Regulus can’t follow.

And Regulus-

Regulus lets himself break.

He gasps into the night, hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Because-

Because.

Saskia had been wrong. 

Regulus had done it. He’d explained. He’d told Sirius the truth. 

And it hadn’t mattered. 

Regulus moves towards the door before he can stop himself, down the stairs and through the halls on autopilot, everything else blocked out. His arm burns, fire on his flesh, turning his skin raw and red and aching. 

The waters are rising, his ocean of calm flooding and swamping him in emotions he can’t keep down. He chokes on it, turning the corner on instinct.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know where he is-

-until he does.

He grabs the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white with how hard he grips the porcelain. He shudders, taking gasping breaths. 

He could do it, so easily. Whisper the words, watch the sink slide back into cement and the wall. Climb into the tunnel and go to her, ask for her help, ask for her advice, feel her heart beat beneath her scales and let the sound comfort him. Let her calm him down in the way only she knows how to do. 

Of course, that’s not an option. 

It hasn’t been for a while. 

Regulus lets out a soft sound and presses his forehead against the mirror, closing his eyes. Saskia , he whispers, the parseltongue crackly and rough on his tongue. He can't say anything else, the words catching in his throat. This time, it’s not guilt that threatens to choke him. It’s pure unfiltered longing. 

He misses her.

Desperately. 

Maybe he should find James. Maybe he should let him whisper apologies and sweet nothings until Regulus can feel his fingers again. But the thought of looking James in the eye, facing him with the Mark on his arm- he can’t do it. Not yet. 

Because Sirius will tell him, surely. It’s only a matter of time.

He supposes that’s what they’ve always been, him and James- a ticking bomb, a fling with a short fuse. He’s tried so hard not to think about it that the weight of that realization nearly brings him to his knees. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do without him. 

Slowly Regulus straightens up, adjusting his hair in the mirror and splashing some water on his face. He turns around, towards the stalls.

“Myrtle?”

For a moment, nothing happens. Then slowly, slowly, a forehead and eyes appear over the edge of a stall. They stare at each other, neither speaking. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus clears his throat through the silence. “About what happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

For once, Myrtle doesn’t say anything. They hold each other's eyes for another section before she nods, just barely, and sinks below the stall. 

With a deep breath, Regulus heads towards the common room, still numb. The portraits whisper as he passes, though that could be in his head. He’s not entirely sure what’s real anymore. He just wants to sleep. 

As he reaches the portrait hole it swings open, revealing a startled Pandora, evidently going back to her dorm for the night after visiting Dorcas. He takes a step back, lips parting but unable to force any words out. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to need to. 

Pandora looks him up and down, pressing her lips into a tight line. Slowly she takes a step forward, then another, then wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Her hands splay out on his back, one rubbing comforting circles over his shirt. Regulus feels himself go completely stiff, every muscle tensing. 

Then he forces himself to take a deep breath and melts into it, burying his face in her shoulder and hugging her back. She smells like woodsmoke and lilac and something a little ethereal. It’s… nice. 

It’s been a long time since he’s been hugged. 

Slowly she pulls back, keeping her hand on Regulus’s arm. Her eyes search his face before she leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, feather light. Then she’s gone down the hallway, turning the corner before he can blink. 

 

---

 

Over breakfast, James gets a letter from his dad. It’s the first one all semester. The envelope drops onto his plate, landing right on top of his sausage. He stares at it for a moment, the loopy scrawl tying his stomach into dark and twisty knots.

Peter sees him staring and cocks his head across the table. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

James opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Slowly he picks it up and slips it into his bag, taking another bite of eggs. “Later.”

“Mm.” Peter nods, wiping a hand over his mouth.

“Pads?” James shoves down his dread in favor of checking on Sirius. 

He’s zoned out, gaze fixed on something in the distance and slightly glazed over. There are dark bags under his eyes, hair a little more disheveled than normal. He looks- for lack of a better term- awful. 

“Pads?” James asks again, this time concerned. He reaches out with his foot and kicks Sirius’s leg under the table. Sirius blinks as his eyes flick up to meet James’s. James raises a brow. “What’s up?”

“Hm? Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Why’d you come back to the dorm so late last night?”

“Just- needed some fresh air.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

Peter and James exchange a look as Remus sits down next to James. “It’s bloody cold out there this morning.”

James blinks. “Why were you outside?”

Remus shrugs. “Just taking a stroll.”

“Are you coming to mine for Christmas?”

Remus’s eyes widen, just slightly, before cutting to Sirius. Sirius, who’s futilely pretending to be incredibly interested in his porridge. “Er-”

“Think on it, yeah? Pete, what about you?”

Peter shifts, running a hand through his thin hair. “I… can’t. Mum wants me home.”

“You come over like every year.”

“Not this one, I guess. Sorry mate.”

James nods distractedly, looking down at his bag again. He needs to read that letter. Another part of him wants to throw it in the fire. “I’m gonna… go.” He shoulders the bag, glancing back at Sirius. He’s still zoned out, propping up his head on his hand. James turns and follows his gaze, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Regulus is staring at his plate, not eating. Both hands are clasped in his lap. Next to him, Barty is laughing with Evan who’s trying to grab his cup of juice. Regulus’s gaze is vacant and sharp at the same time, unmoving. Suddenly he looks up and meets James’s eyes, as if he can feel them on him. They then snap down to Sirius next to him and all the blood drains from his face, leaving him pale. Turning to mutter something to Barty he stands up, stepping out from behind the bench and walking quickly out of the Great Hall. 

James just sighs and rubs his forehead, closing his eyes. He needs to apologize to Reg. Badly. He just has to find the time. And- well- the courage. 

“James?” Peter nudges him. 

“Yeah?”

“You were going somewhere?”

“Yeah.” James stands up stiffly, sending Sirius one last look before heading off. 

He waits till he’s safely back in the dorm to read the letter. 

James, 

How are things? How’s school? Sorry I haven’t written in a while. 

James has to stop and scoff at that bit. He’d written to Sirius plenty of times. 

Things are well here. I found someone to take over the business, so at least it’s being continued. Not that we need the money- I’ve insisted all profits go to either the war effort or the new buyer. We’re excited to see you and Sirius for Christmas in a few days. How’s Remus doing? Will he be joining us? Let me know. 

Love, 

Monty

James closes the letter after a moment, setting it aside. It… wasn’t what he’d hoped. His father hadn’t mentioned why he hadn’t written for two months, or asked James anything of substance. It was empty, weak. 

James reaches back into the envelope and pulls out the other letter- from his mother this time.

Jamie,

I decided to include this with your father’s letter for convenience's sake. He misses you. We both do. The house is all decorated- just waiting for you and Sirius and all your noise. By the way, Monty’s potion’s ran out. He wouldn’t say anything, but I knew you’d be furious if you came back to find he hadn’t been taking them. Just thought I should let you know so Regulus can get working. Monty told me about that, by the way. Interesting choice of potion’s partner. Obviously the right one, since he's saving your father’s life, but still. As I’m sure Monty told you, there’s always an open bed here. See you soon, 

Effie

James holds on to the letter for a moment, letting his mothers words bleed warmth into every inch of him. And then- what ? His father ran out of potions and just… wasn’t going to tell him? A flash of red-hot anger burns through him as he sets the letter down and combs a hand through his messy hair. 

James begged him. Really, begged him, holding his father as tight as possible and sobbing into his shirt, using up every last shred of his dignity and not caring one bit. He’d never felt that kind of fear before- like Monty was letting himself slip away and James couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was all-consuming. But he’d caved and taken the potions, and James let himself rest.  

James knows what he did was cruel. He’d forced Monty to agree to something he really didn’t want to do, something that by all means should’ve been his choice. That’s not to say he regrets it. He doesn’t. He’d do it again, in an instant. Drop to his knees, spout as many cruel manipulative things necessary as long as it keeps his father living. 

But now this. His father’s given up again, and just wasn’t going to tell him. It’s like- it’s like he’s not even trying. 

James groans, leaning forward and burying his face in his palms. He’s so frustrated and just so, so tired. He’s tired of potions, he’s tired of the war, he’s tired of begging everyone around him to keep fucking breathing.  

The stinging press of tears behind his lids leave him even more angry as he swipes at his eyes, biting his lip. It’s not fucking fair, he thinks, that he cares so deeply and yet seems to be the only person in the world incapable of saving anyone. He needed Regulus to make the cure that helped his father, needed Snape to brew the potion for Remus, needed Sirius to get himself out of that house. 

The weight of it hits him suddenly, forcing a choked-back sob out of his throat. He’s entirely and utterly useless. He always has been. 

Regulus knows it. 

Sirius knows it. 

And now, his father does too. 

James lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pressing the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to ignore the silent tears that track down his cheeks as he shakes. 

He stays like that till the bell rings, and then a little after too. 

 

---

 

When Remus walks into Astronomy, he thinks Sirius is sitting at his desk. It’s an odd thought, because Sirius isn’t in this class, and anyway, Regulus and Sirius don’t look that much alike. Not really.

Regulus is sharp and soft at the same time, cruel eyes and perfectly styled curls. Defined cheekbones and a dangerous mouth. He looks- for lack of a better term- like a deadly angel.

Sirius’s beauty is different. He’s all elegance hiding behind a rough exterior. Soft cheeks give way to a sharp jawline, sparkling grey eyes that hide behind his mess of glossy black hair. Sometimes Remus could swear his skin glows, some ethereal pale light that doesn’t reflect but is instead sourced from within, lit somewhere behind his eyes and beaming out through every pore. 

So when Remus has to do a double-take in Astronomy, he mentally kicks himself. He’s too far gone, he thinks. He’s been avoiding Sirius so diligently he’s started seeing him around every turn. 

Slowly he makes his way over, dropping his bag and settling down in the seat next to Regulus. “Black.”

Regulus spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye, not moving. “Lupin. You look bad.”

Remus makes an affronted noise and crosses his arms. It’s the full moon’s tonight and- yeah; maybe he does look a little worse for wear, but he didn’t think it was all that noticeable. “Says you. You look-” He takes a moment to scan Regulus over, then pauses.
Because he really doesn’t look great. He wasn’t entirely serious before, but now… 

There are dark bags under Regulus’s eyes, hair slightly less combed than usual. His cheeks are gaunt and grey, like he hasn’t eaten in a while. And then there’s that certain look in his eyes, like he’s not entirely here.

“Regulus,” Remus murmurs after a moment. “Are you ok?”

Regulus’s gaze snaps up to meet his just as Madam Sinistra begins her lesson. 

She talks for nearly the whole class pointing at various stars and constellations across the board that shift and rotate under her fingers. They take notes in silence, Remus silently sneaking glances at Regulus the whole time. 

He’s curious.

And. Well. 

Suspicious, if he’s being honest. 

When the bell rings Regulus scoops up his bag and moves to leave. Remus grabs his arm in the hallway outside, cocking his head. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come on.” he gives Regulus’s arm another tug and watches as the other boy takes a stumbling step towards him and then stops, yanking his arm away.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because.” Remus shrugs. “I’m hungry. And I have questions. And- yeah, that’s it.”

“Hungry?”

“I’m going to the kitchens. Come with me.”

Regulus glares at him like he’s trying to figure him out, suspicious and distrusting. “I- why?”

It’s true- Remus isn’t Regulus’s biggest fan and they both know it. Regardless, Remus meant it about having questions. And Regulus can’t answer them if he passes out from hunger. 

“Come on.”

Regulus crosses his arms tightly over his chest and starts walking, body stiff. “I’m not waiting for you.”

“Fine. Bastard.” Remus catches up to him, already half regretting asking him along. “Is Snape working for Voldemort?”

Regulus hisses through his teeth and looks around them wildly, double checking they’re alone. “You can’t just-”

Remus rolls his eyes. “No one’s listening.”

“He… who's to say.”

“Are you?”

Regulus’s stare stays blank and Remus sighs. “Ok. Don’t answer. Is Voldemort planning on- I mean- is he using wolfsbane? To keep the werewolves under his control sane?”

Regulus shakes his head. “No. He doesn’t care enough about that. And besides, tons of the werewolves are… shifting, anyway.”

Remus stops walking. “What does that mean?”

Regulus doesn’t stop moving, forcing Remus to keep up. “They’re turning and not switching back. Or they are, but it’s taking longer. And it’s more permanent. Like they’re slowly becoming full wolf.”

Every vein in Remus’s body floods with ice. “That’s- to everyone?”

Regulus tilts his head at him inquisitively. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. You’re experiencing the same thing.”

Remus opens his mouth then closes it again. “Not anymore.”

Regulus nods slowly, eyes scanning him. Remus can almost see his brain working. “Wolfsbane.” He says eventually. It’s not a question.

Remus nods. 

“Snape.”

Remus nods again.

“Hm.”

“We’re here.” Remus finds the painting and tickles the pear, watching it turn into a handle. He turns it and holds the door open for Regulus who gives him a suspicious look and steps through.

“Mister Lupin! Mister Regulus! What a surprise!” A small house elf runs up to them, looking between them quickly. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t quite ready yet-”

“It’s ok,” Regulus says, looking around. “We’re just here for a snack. No rush.”

“Oh. In that case, can I be helping you find anything?”

Regulus smiles softly. “Do you have any bread pudding made?”

The house elf nods enthusiastically. “Course.” She disappears and pops back a second later handing him a small napkin wrapped up around a square of pudding.

“Thank you very much,” Regulus says, lips twitching as he stares down at the handkerchief. Carefully, he tucks it in his bag. 

“You and Mister Potter must be getting along well. He loves bread pudding as well. Requests it all the time.”

Regulus turns a bright shade of pink and nods, damningly silent. The house elf turns to Remus. “And you, Mister Lupin?”

“Uh- I’ll- just- Can I have an apple?”

The house elf hands him one almost instantly and Remus bites into it, nodding.

“He means thank you,” Regulus says to the house elf, cutting Remus a look.

“Er- right. Thank you.”

They leave slowly, shutting the portrait behind them. The pear promptly turns normal again as Remus gives Regulus an amused look.

“What.”

“Nothing. You’re… very soft with house-elves.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows at him, daring him to keep talking. “It’s called having class. I’m not a barbarian.” 

Remus just takes another bite of his apple. “Bread pudding, huh? Should we expect James back at the dorm tonight?”

Regulus’s expression shifts into something unreadable. “Depends.”

“Alright.”

Regulus turns to him, pausing. “My brother- he didn’t-” Remus watches him shut down a bit, waiting for Regulus to finish. He clears his throat. “He didn’t say anything?”

“About?”

“...Nothing.”

“I don’t- we aren’t- he talks to James more than me these days.”

A stupid mistake. 

Regulus studies him carefully. “Right.”

“What would he have said-”

“I have to go.” Regulus shoulders his bag and looks away down the hall. “I’m going to be late.”

“Where?”

But Regulus is already walking away. 

 

---

 

The full moon that night is brutal. James is missing- he asked Remus first, of course, if he could go. After the introduction of Snape’s potions it’s been getting easier. It’s not necessary to have every Marauder there- especially if James has other duties. He’s only missed it twice and looked so guilty both times he approached Remus with the idea that Remus had instantly caved. 

Now he leans back against the wall of the shack and stretches his arms over his head, trying to ignore the glow of the moon through the window. Peter is sitting slumped against the wall next to him, head in his hand. Sirius is in the middle of the room, cross-legged and waiting. Because he won’t really talk to him, or look him in the eye, but yeah. Sure. He’ll show up to keep Remus company while he changes.

Already, every muscle in Remus’s body is sore and aching. His joints twinge when he moves, making him hiss in pain. It’s worse than it’s been in a long while, and he can’t figure out why. 

Sirius looks up at the sound, eyes narrowing. “Moony? Is it bad?”

Biting his lip, Remus nods. “I- it’s normally better than this. Recently it’s been better than this.”

Sirius cocks his head. “And you took your potion?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Remus opens his mouth then promptly closes it. He 100% left the bag with the potions on his bedside table up in the castle. “No. Shit .” After so long getting used to the numbed pain of the potion, he doesn’t think he’s ready to face this raw. “Shit, shit- there’s no time-”

Peter jumps to his feet. “I'll get it- I’ll run-” 

Sirius nods, eyes wide and panicked. “Go, go now, you’ll be faster as a rat.”

Peter nods, promptly shrinking and dropping out of his clothes to the floor and scampering off. 

Remus watches him go, panic bubbling in his chest. A searing ache tears itself across his back, and he lets out a soft whine, leaning forward off the wall. He hears Sirius moving and then there’s a presence by his side, a hand on his arm. “Shh. Breathe into it.” Sirius whispers gently.

Remus considers hexing him.

But then there’s another pain and all he can do is melt into the touch. “T-talk.”

“Talk?”

“Distract me.” 

“I- Ok. Yeah. I can do that.” A pause. “About what?”

“I- shit. I don’t know. Tell me about your day.”

“Uh- I had Transfiguration, then Defense Against the Dark Arts, then a free period, you know, since I dropped Astronomy.”

“Lucky. I had Astronomy last period.”

“Enjoying it?”

“I got to talk to your angel of brother. How's that going?” 

Sirius goes completely stiff next to him, every inch of his body tense. “Did he say something?” He asks, voice hard.

Remus shakes his head. “He asked the same about you.”

“He would’ve.”

“What is it? What’s happening?”

Sirius looks down, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I- can’t say.”

“Oh.”

They go quiet for a moment, only interrupted by the occasional gasp of pain from Remus. Sirius relents, to some extent. “He- he’s joining him. Voldemort. More and more. Every time I see him it’s like he’s… slipping away. Going somewhere I can’t pull him out of. And I don’t know how to… deal with that. With letting him go.”

Remus thinks about the way Regulus looked today when he was talking to the house-elves, soft and sweet. Gentle. He’s starting to understand, at least a little, why James looks like he’s tearing at the seams whenever Remus brings him up. 

“Oh. I- Ah .” Remus curls in on himself a little more. He can feel it starting, the anger and pain building in his gut. 

“Pete,” Sirius mutters, seemingly to himself, “hurry.”

“Bring him to- to yours, for the summer.” Remus has lost all patience for speaking indirectly, the pain leaving him bare and honest. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Fine.” Remus lets his head drop back against the wall, taking deep breaths. 

“Peter will be here soon. Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

And really, that does it. 

“Shut up.” Remus hisses, running a hand over his face. It stings a bit, surprising him. Oh. His nails are already growing, just slightly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“Don’t act like you care.”

Sirius pinches his brows, confused. “Remus-”

“You can’t- you can’t be like this with me now if you won’t- I-”

“What are you talking about?” And now Sirius has his hand on Remus’s back and oh , he hates him. 

“You kissed me back,” Remus hisses through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut and pain spotting his vision. “I felt it.”

Instantly the hand on his back is gone and Sirius is staring at him through the dark, lips parted. “You-”

“I felt it.” Remus says again. 

Sirius looks desperate and anxious as he glances around, panicked. “Peter-”

“I’m not talking to Peter, Sirius. I’m talking to you. And you won’t even look at me.” 

Sirius backs up slightly, the gap between them growing. “You’re in pain-”

“I felt it. You don’t kiss like that if…”

Sirius just shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. His chest rises, falls. Remus continues. “Was it really just a stupid mistake? Did you really feel nothing?” He knows the wolf is starting to take over. He can feel his senses sharpen. 

Sirius says nothing, the moonlight illuminating his skin, glowing and pale. And how dare he. Remus lets out a growl, patience snapping. He leans forward, grabbing the back of Sirius’s head and yanking him towards him, pulling him into a desperate and bruising kiss.

All impulse control left him long ago.

Pain thrums through his entire body but he doesn’t care, because Sirius’s is here. Under his hands, beneath his lips, and this pain isn’t anything he hasn’t dealt with before. It’s worth it. Every last twinge.

And Remus feels it, feels the moment Sirius’s hand comes up to hold his wrist, melting into Remus’s lips. Remus lets out a small sound that’s probably more wolf than human, pulling him closer. Needing him to fill every sense. Needing to inhale his scent and taste, make them one. 

Then there’s the sound of footsteps on the floorboard and Sirius pushes him off, eyes wide. Remus doesn’t care about Peter- as soon as his hands left Sirius’s body the pain came roaring back in, magnified tenfold. He whimpers, honest-to-god whimpers, and reaches out again, before a searing pain splits across his chest and he curls in on himself, shaking. 

“Fuck,” He hears Peter mutters as he thrusts a bottle into Sirius’s hand. Sirius unstoppers it and tries to hand it to Remus before realizing that won’t be happening. He tips his head back and pours the contents down his throat.

Remus gags at the taste but manages to keep it down, relaxing into the cool feeling that spreads over his limbs and through each muscle. Letting out a soft breath he sags into the wall, shutting his eyes. “Change,” He murmurs, and hears the sound of cloth rustling as Sirius and Peter shift. 

He stares down at his hands, watching as the dark fur spreads over his skin and the claws come out.

---

 

“James?”

James looks up at the sound of his name. He’s been sitting on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing as he waits. Regulus stands in the doorway, one hand on the knob. 

James stands up instantly, taking a step forward. “Reg.”

Regulus looks him over, eyes softening. He says nothing, just taking him in. 

“I'm so sorry,” James says, crossing the room. “I shouldn’t have assumed- I mean- I just heard what Sirius said and thought-”

“James.” Regulus’s lips twitch into something almost like a smile, except it’s just so sad . “It’s fine. I’m not mad. It was a reasonable assumption.”

“You’re not mad?” James' heart calms, hope thrumming though his chest. 

“No. I thought- well. Nevermind.” Regulus looks nervous for a second before dropping to the ground and pulling something out of his bag, handing it to James. “Here.”

“Aw, love, you shouldn’t have.” James settles back down on the bed, leaning against the cushions. He breaks the chunk of pudding in half, holding one out to Regulus.

Reg just stares at him from across the room before narrowing his eyes. “You’re just trying to get me into bed with you." 

“When am I not? Come on, I told them I wouldn’t be back till morning. Will anyone notice if you stay the night?”

Regulus sighs, already untying his shoes. “...No.”

“That's what I thought. C’mere.”

Regulus crawls into bed next to him, grabbing the other half of the bread pudding and eating silently. James turns to look at him. “What did you think?”

“What?”

“Earlier, you said you thought something.”

“Tends to happen.”

“Reg.”

Regulus shrugs, shaking his head and looking down. “If- I mean- I need more time. I can’t do this right now.”

James nods. He only feels like he just got him back, he doesn’t want to push so soon. Besides:

“So- I- um. I found something out today.”

Regulus’s entire body goes stiff next to him on the bed. “What’s that?”

“My dad ran out of potions. And... didn't think to tell me. My Mum had to write.”

“Oh.” Regulus frowns, then sits forward. “What? And he just-”

“Wasn’t going to mention it.”

“Shit.”

James nods, staring up at the ceiling. The lights have dimmed, condensed into the soft warm glow from constellations on the ceiling that appeared a few weeks ago. James is a fan of the new edition. Regulus says some of them are in the wrong places. 

There’s a sudden weight on James’s chest and he looks down as Regulus rests his head on James’s torso, staring off into the distance. “We’re making more tomorrow, and you can bring them home for Christmas.” It’s not a debate. “Yell at your dad for me.”

“I just- thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For everything. For saving my dad. I feel like I don’t say that enough.”

Regulus shrugs against him as the stars above them grow dimmer. “It’s not me.”

“What-”

“I mix the ingredients. You do the research and actually get your dad to take them. Hell, I wouldn’t even be doing this if you hadn’t begged me.”

“Begged is a strong word.” 

“Begged, Potter.”

“Yeah, well. You agreed. Out of the goodness of your heart. I owe you.”

“It was selfish, really.” Regulus murmurs, voice already heavy with sleep. James runs a hand through his curls, gently playing with the ends. “I just wanted you to stop crying. And I thought…”

“You thought?”

“Some part of me thought maybe you’d look at me like I was more than your best friend’s little brother.”

James sighs contentedly. “You’ve really just been trying to get in my pants since you were eleven, haven’t you?”

He can feel Regulus smile against his shirt, thumb rubbing circles into James’s side where his hand rests. “And look how that worked out.”

“Mmm. Only took you 5 years.”

“Someone was being difficult.”

James smiles into his hair. “Someone wouldn’t look in my direction.”

“Hm.” 

They go quiet for a long moment, just breathing the night air. Around them, the castle is still. “Reg?” James whispers eventually.

“Mm?”

“Be safe over break.”

“Mm.”

Slowly Regulus’s breathing evens out, eyelashes fluttering closed.

When it happens, it happens softly and quietly, the lights of the stars above them just barely bright enough. James rests his head on Regulus’s, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. He’s soft and warm and tucked up against his torso, eyes closed with his chest rising and falling gently. 

He runs a hand over Regulus’s shoulder, ignoring the little raised scars beneath the fabric. He doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this. Regulus looks so gentle, so relaxed, so untroubled. 

That’s when James sees it. 

A small dark line on the inside of Regulus’s wrist, just hidden by his shirt. 

His heart stops. 

Slowly he reaches down and pulls Regulus’s sleeve up, careful not to disturb him. He chokes on his breath, throat closing up as everything in him revolts. The Dark Mark, laid bare and bold, stands out against Regulus’s pale skin. It looks like sin. It looks like death. 

He squeezes his eyes shut.

There it is again, the press of the knife against his stomach, cutting through flesh and organs and tearing a hole in him so large he doesn’t think it can ever be patched. He almost wonders why the bed’s not flooding with his blood, dark and dripping from the edges of the sheets. It feels like it should be- it feels like both his lungs have been punctured and torn to shreds in his chest.

He should wake him up. He should wake him up and throw off the covers, demand answers and cut the line, pull the knife out his stomach and throw it at Regulus's feet. But-

James can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t-

Regulus shifts against him, making a small sleepy sound and burying his face in James’s chest like a cat settling in. 

James stares down at him, entire body going stiff and rigid. Regulus’s lashes flutter against his cheeks as he makes a small face in his sleep. Then the slight wrinkle between his brows spreads out and his face softens again, lips parting as he relaxes. 

And James can’t breathe.

Because the Mark on Regulus’s arm is so ugly, and he is so, so beautiful. 

James Potter is not a coward. He’s a Gryffindor, through and through, brave as anything. But right here, with the boy he loves asleep in his arms, he has never felt more afraid.

Regulus has always left him weak. 

It’s that same shameful weakness that makes James reach over, and, with an achingly guilty heart, gently pull his sleeve back down. 

 

Notes:

Oh had fun with this one- It had the perfect mix of fluff and angst to satisfy my needs

I did however write it at work lol so it is very much not perfect

As always I eat up and treasure every single one of your comments like a dragon with some jewels. And the amount of hits this is getting? hello? Thank you everyone so very much you keep me writing

Chapter 47: Rain

Back at the beginning of the year, James and Regulus snuck up to the roof. Regulus had walked into the Come and Go room, took a look around, and frowned. “It’s fall,” he said, and James still remembers the glint in his eyes. “Not winter. Let's go out.”

“The doors are locked.” James stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “We could sneak out, if you wanted. I know a few ways.”

Regulus shrugged. “Or, we could go up to the roof.”

James raised a brow, lips twitching. “You know how to get onto the roof?”

Regulus smiled. “We go up there to smoke, sometimes. It’s a great view.”

“Regulus Black, sneaking around?” James crossed his arms playfully. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Just come on.”

The tiles were only slightly slippery with evening dew. At some point James’s foot shifted just wrong on a shingle and with an embarrassing squeak he slipped sideways. He flailed for a moment, scrabbling at the roof before a hand grabbed his forearm firmly. Regulus pulled him back up, not letting go of his arm. “No grace,” he chided, though his eyes were slightly wide. 

“Sorry,” James choked, shifting closer to him. “My bad.”

“Come on. You obviously need to stay on the flat parts.” Regulus tugged him forward onto the top of the roof, leading him out to the middle. 

“Merlin, Reg, look at the stars!” James tilted his head up, staring at the sky. Without the light pollution of a nearby town, the stars shone and blinked down at them with startling clarity. 

“Mm.” Regulus pulled him down till they were sitting on the roof, only then letting go of his arm. “Told you.”

“They’re so bright.” When he looked over at Regulus he found his eyes already on him. Reg leaned over him on the roof, propping himself up on an elbow.

Reaching out, he combed James’s hair away from his face and cupped his jaw. “Mhm.” 

“What are you doing?” James mumbled, voice caught.

“Looking at you.” 

James cleared his throat. “Thought we were supposed to be stargazing.”

Regulus’s eyes flitted over his face, soaking it in. “You’re prettier, anyway.”

James was fairly certain he’d blushed down to his toes. “Don’t- you can’t-” That in itself was too much. He spent so long alone, so long living for others, that it was such a foreign feeling to be wanted. Wanted and told as much. He pressed into Regulus’s hand, shutting his eyes. 

Regulus’s thumb stroked over his cheek. “I don’t think I say it enough, actually.” 

James let out a soft breath, trying to push past the emotion threatening to choke him. “Please.”

Regulus’s brows pinched slightly. “What?”

But James just shook his head, tucking his face in Regulus’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. Regulus laid back down, keeping a hand resting in James’s hair. 

“Just watch the stars, Potter.”

---

 

“Prongs.”

“Prongs.”

James looks over, blinking slightly. Sirius is staring at him, curled up in an armchair. “What is wrong with you?”

James can’t bring himself to meet his gaze. “What?”

“I’ve called your name at least four times.”

James closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. Everything in him aches. “What’s up?”

“Can I… um.” Sirius shifts uncomfortably. “Can I talk to you?”

James blinks at him. “Always.”

“I…”

“Sirius.”

“Something happened.”

Oh.

So that’s what they were talking about.

Finally.

“What?”

“Remus- I-” Sirius makes a frustrated sound, wiping a hand down over his face. “Remus might’ve… kissed me.”

James raises his brows. “Oh?”

Sirius narrows his eyes. “You knew.”

James shrugs.

“How? Did he- did he tell you?”

“No.”

Sirius opens his mouth to ask but James beats him to it. “He didn’t have to.”

Sirius looks down miserably. “Did he tell you I was awful to him?”

“Might’ve mentioned that.”

“Did he tell you it happened again?”

James sits forward, mouth falling open. “What? No?”

Sirius nods. “Last full moon. He was in pain, bad, and I was just trying to comfort him and then-”

“Did you kiss him back?”

Sirius goes still, avoiding James’s gaze. He says nothing.

“Sirius.”

“Maybe.”

“Sirius.” James gestures. “You can’t- you can’t do that to him.”

“I know. I know.”

“So are you- together now?”

Sirius shakes his head quickly. “No. No.”

James lets out a huff, sitting back. “Why. If you kissed him back, why?”

Sirius makes a frustrated sound, burying his head in his hands. “I’m not-”

“You kissed him back.”

“Are you, then? Are you gay, James? You sneak out almost every night to go hook up with some boy.”

“I’m… not.” James ignores the way his gut clenches at the question. “But I’m not straight. I mean- obviously.” He takes a deep breath. “Listen. No one is asking you to be one thing or the other. You don’t have to label it. I think- I think all he wants is something."

“I can’t-” Sirius shakes his head quickly. 

"Before, when I hinted at it, you didn't shut it down this hard. Why?"

"It wasn't real then. it was okay to have these thoughts, these emotions, because nothing was coming of them. It was stupid and fake and safe. And then he kissed me, and it was all so real all of a sudden, and they weren't thoughts anymore, they were actions, reality-"

“Do you care about him?”

“But-”

“No, do you care about him? In that way? In the same way he cares about you?” 

“Yes.”

James lets out a breath of relief. That, at least, was easy. “Ok. That’s all you need, Sirius. That’s all he’s asking for.”

“It’s not that simple.”

James thinks of Regulus’s smile when James makes a joke, soft and ever so gentle. The way his hands feel when they comb through his hair or adjust his glasses on his nose. Then he thinks about- no. No. He actually doesn’t think about that. “Yes it is.” he murmurs. 

Sirius studies him carefully. “You love him. Your boy.”

James nods, trying not to let the motion crack him open and leave him as bare as he feels. Trying not to let Sirius see how much that fact is destroying him.

Sirius presses his lips into a line, looking down. “I can’t be- I can’t be definitive like Remus wants me to. I can’t be just one thing.”

“He’s not asking you to.”

Sirius sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “How do you do it? How does it come to you so easily?”

James opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. There’s a sudden absence of air in his lungs, and he’s just so sick of people telling him it’s easy. So sick of no one understanding how painful it is, loving Regulus. 

“James?” There’s a weight on the couch next to him and a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back softly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” James gasps, choking on air. “Nothing.”

Sirius stares at him. “Are you- are you ok? You and- whoever?”

James squeezes his eyes shut, the bridge of his glasses digging into his nose. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Prongs.” Sirius rubs his shoulder. “I’ve been so good, not asking, but it’s difficult when you’re so-”

“So what?”

“So hurt. James, what is he doing to you? Everytime I bring it up, this thing that you have, you shut me down so viciously. Why can’t you tell me who he is? I just want a name. I won’t judge. I promise.”

James just shakes his head, still gasping for breath. “I can’t. I told you. I can’t.”

“You should. You can.”

“No.”

“Just-”

“Sirius. No.”

The hand on his back disappears and Sirius sits back, letting out a sigh. “Fine. But- I want you to recognize how much restraint it’s taken not to find out.”

“I don’t think you could.”

“If I tried, I’m sure. On the map, maybe.”

James shakes his head. “Good luck.”

There’s a sound on the stairs and then Remus hops the last step before stopping in front of the fire, giving them an odd look. “You both should be packing right now.” 

Sirius coughs and James just sighs, trying to shove back down everything Sirius just brought up. “I'm already packed.”

Remus raises his brows. “So early?” He glances over at Sirius, and James watches both of them look away at the same time. “What are you guys talking about?”

“The identity of James’s secret lover.”

Remus’s eyes flick to his and James subtly shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Unsuccessfully.”

Remus stares at him for a moment, cocking his head. “You look- did you sleep last night?”

“Sure.”

“James-”

James stands up before he can finish, giving Sirius a look before retreating to the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Train leaves early tomorrow. Night.”

Under the covers, he tries not to let the guilt drown him. 

 

---

 

“Did he seem off to you?” Remus forces himself to look at Sirius, silently cursing James for leaving them alone together. 

Sirius stares after him, up the stairs. “I just… wish I knew who it was.”

“Mm.” Remus takes a moment to gather his courage, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Pads.”

“Don’t.”

“We need to talk.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Remus tentatively takes a step, then another, before sitting down in the spot James left on the couch. “So.”

Sirius keeps his eyes firmly on the fire in front of them. “So.”

Remus clears his throat. He hates this, hates this thick silence that threatens to choke him. “Sirius. I shouldn't have- I mean, I’m sorry. You set a boundary, and I… crossed it. Again. So. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sirius says quickly, looking up. “You were in pain.”

“That’s no excuse. I’ve been in pain before.”

“Yes, but-”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

“But I kissed you back.”

Remus snaps his mouth shut, turning to look at him. Everything goes still, waiting. “What?”

“Both times.” The firelight dances in Sirius’s eyes. 

Remus can’t say anything, just staring. Every muscle in his body hums with warmth. Sirius frowns softly. “I’m not gay.”

Oh. 

Right.

“Yeah. Yeah, you said. That’s why I’m apologizing-”

“-but. I’m not- I mean.” Sirius squeezes his eyes shut before setting his gaze on Remus. “I kissed you back.”

Remus swallows dryly. “I noticed.”

“So- I-” Sirius shakes his head, obviously frustrated. “I like you, Remus. A lot. Fucking hell, it kills me not to…” 

“What?”

Sirius blinks at him. “What?”

“You like me?”

“I thought… I thought that was kinda obvious.”

“You like me?”

Sirius just stares at him as Remus sits back, everything in him exploding into emotion. Relief. Happiness. Salvation. “You idiot. You like me.”

“I already said that,” Sirius says grumply. “Don’t make me repeat it.”

“I like you too. If- I mean- I. Well.” Remus presses the back of his hand mouth, smiling into his skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this giddy. 

“I gathered. From the kissing.” Sirius cheeks turn bright pink as he stares stubbornly at the couch. 

“Can I- can I do that again?” Remus mumbles, before shaking his head. “God. No. That was awful. I mean- can I kiss you, Sirius?”

Sirius doesn’t meet his eyes, nodding at the couch. Remus reaches forward, breath catching in his throat. He’s fairly certain everyone in a five mile radius can hear his heartbeat. He tips Sirius’s chin up, staring at him with bated breath. “Are you sure-”

His question is answered when, for the first time, Sirius leans in and kisses him before he can finish.

It’s soft and gentle and so, so perfect, because Remus isn’t worried about him pulling away anymore. Because he can keep him here, in front of the fire, against his lips, as long as possible. Because he likes him. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” He whispers. Sirius just pulls him in again, making a small sound in the back of his throat. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He responds. 

“Don’t,” Remus says again, because he doesn’t think he can take it if Sirius leaves again. 

His hand comes up to cup Sirius’s face, running a thumb over his cheekbone. Sirius pulls him closer, desperate now. “Come to Christmas,” he whispers against Remus’s lips.

“Anything,” Remus murmurs back, chasing his mouth. 

Anything.

Next to them, the fire crackles on. 

 

---

 

Dorcas joins them on the train ride back. This isn’t a surprise, as James has come to expect her presence around the group. She sits with them outside, comes up to them in the halls, and now, apparently shares train compartments with them. It doesn’t matter- they’ve all grown to like her. 

“Hiya,” James says as she sits down across from him. “How are you doing?”

“Tired,” she sighs, stretching her arms above her head. “Doesn’t matter. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

Sirius makes a sound from where he’s fast asleep, head resting on Remus’s shoulder. James doesn’t know if that means they talked, but the way Remus looks down at him is definitely a little insinuating. James turns back to Dorcas, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Come find the snack cart with me?”

“Sure.”

They stand up and shimmy out, trying to slide the door shut as quietly as possible behind them. “Are they… I mean, it’s not my place, but Sirius and Remus seem…” She struggles to find the words. “Close.”

James raises his eyebrows. “You could say that.”

She looks him over, nodding. “Right. Good for them.”

He keeps his voice cool and careful. “You don’t mind?”

She rolls her eyes, shrugging and turning away. “I came out to my parents last year, Potter.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” James swallows and moves forward to keep up with her.

There’s a brief silence as they pass between cars. Dorcas glances at him out of the side of her eye. “You’ll talk to your parents? About meeting Moody?”

James nods. “Yeah, ‘course. We should really start going to Order meetings. All of us, I mean. We aren’t invited currently, which I think is stupid. If we’re old enough to fight, we should at least be old enough to go to the meetings.”

“Where are they held?” 

“I think the location changes. Last time they were down an offshoot of Knockturn Alley. Honestly, I think that was for the sole purpose of throwing the death eaters off. Hide in plain sight sort of thing.”

Dorcas nods, then chuckles a bit. James cocks his head at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just remembering. Regulus used to refuse to go down there. He said he didn’t like the darkness in the corners of the alley.”

“Yeah, well. Reg has always hated rats.”

And, well. 

Shit.

Dorcas just… stops walking. Fully. Slowly she turns to look at him and James swallows. Fuck. Honestly. 

“You- How do you know that?”

James opens his mouth then closes it again, staring at her. Her eyes search him quickly, boring into his soul. After a second, she takes a step back. “Oh. Oh, shit.”

He can feel his heart pounding. “Fuck.”

“Oh.” Dorcas says again.

“He’s Sirius’s little brother, I obviously heard from him-”

Dorcas wheels around and pushes past him, marching all the way back to the compartment and opening the door. “Hey, Sirius. Quick question. Is your brother afraid of rats?”

Sirius blinks at her, face only hardening slightly. “Uh… no?”

“Thanks.” She shuts the door, cutting off Sirius’s muffled question of why. She turns to face James, crossing her arms. 

“Shit.” He mutters.

“Reg?” She questions accusingly. “Since when do you call him Reg?”

“Everyone calls him Reg.”

“No, only the people he lets.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out an exasperated breath. “Maybe I should rephrase. Why does he let you call him Reg?”

“Sirius-”

“Yeah, that excuse went out the window the first time you used it.”

James takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He says nothing, and Dorcas just sighs. “Come on.” taking his arm she pulls him into an empty compartment, shutting the door behind them and sinking into a seat. James follows her reluctantly, folding his arms over his chest.

“He didn’t… he hasn’t mentioned anything?” He asks after a moment. 

Dorcas scans his face. “Should he have?”

“No,” James says quickly, then takes a breath. It doesn’t matter, he supposes. She probably already figured it out. “...He didn’t want anyone knowing.” 

And that's that.

Dorcas lets out a puff of air and sits back, taking a moment to gather her words. “How long?”

James shrugs. “Middle of last year, if I had to guess.”

Dorcas raises her brows. “What? Really?”

“He never said?”

“No. Well, I thought… I mean, I knew something was up. He’s been different lately, but I thought that was on account of… other things.” They go quiet for a moment. Dorcas speaks up first. “Who made the first move?”

“Him, technically.”

“Technically?”

“You know Reg.”

She nods, conceding the point. “Shit. Gryffindor's golden boy. Really, Regulus?”

James scrunches his nose up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I suppose it makes sense.” She nods after a moment, meeting his eyes. “You haven’t told anyone.”

“Remus knows.”

“Oh. Interesting.”

“Found out, though, so I suppose I really didn’t.”

She sighs and looks out the window. “Of course he wouldn’t tell me. He’s always been so scared… even though he knows I’d be fine with it. Even though he knows I know.” She smirks. “You should see his face when Barty asks his opinion on a girl. If that boy ever thought he could pass as straight…”

James blinks. “I didn’t figure that out till he kissed me.”

“Sometimes you can be quite dense, Potter.”

“So I’ve been told.” He looks down. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread this,” James says tentatively. “Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I won't.” 

“I have a question.”

“Ask it.”

“Why don’t you two talk anymore?”

Dorcas takes a shuddering breath, hands twisting in her lap. “He made a choice I didn’t agree with. Went down a different road. And recently he did something that I couldn’t… get past.”

She looks up and their eyes lock. Something passes between them, some sort of shared understanding. It’s because he’s watching her face so closely that he sees the exact moment she realizes. Her eyes widen, just a fraction, at James’s impassive expression. She knows he knows. She knows he’s pretending not to. 

If she were anyone else she’d hate him. 

After a moment she nods and looks down at her lap, thinking. “Do you treat him well?” She asks finally. 

James stares out the window, watching the trees whip by. “Not as well as I’d like,” he says softly. “As well as he lets me.”

“Sounds like him,” She says, tipping her face into her hands. “God. I wonder how much this secret is destroying him.”

“What-”

“His family, Potter. Sirius. He’s choosing you over all of them. You know how dangerous that is, right?”

James opens his mouth but no words come out. Slowly he shuts it again. 

“I let you in, let you past my defenses, let you talk and hold and kiss me. That’s my rebelion.”

Maybe he was telling the truth. 

“I’m trying,” he whispers softly. 

Dorcas stands up, looking down at him from the door. “I’m glad he has you,” she says eventually. “I’m glad you care. I’m- I’m glad it’s you.”
Dumbly James nods, biting his lip. “You can’t talk to him?”

“No. We passed that, I think. I can’t follow him.” She looks him over. “Take care of him.”

James blinks. “Of course.”

“But-” she takes a deep breath. “Take care of yourself first. Do what you have to do to get out of this in one peice.”

And that-

That’s such a laughable notion he has to stop himself from smiling.

Of course he’d do anything for Regulus. Of course he’d put him over himself any day. He already has. Nothing Dorcas can say will change that. 

“Right.”

She nods and disappears out the door, and James goes back to looking out the window. 

 

---

 

Regulus wishes the train would go slower. The speed at which it barrels down the tracks leaves him a little shaky. It always has. 

Around an hour into the ride rain starts streaking down the windows, lowering the temperature in the car. He wraps his robe around him tighter, fogging up the window with his breath and watching it clear. Next to him Evan mumbles something in his sleep. Barty looks up briefly before going back to staring out the window. 

Regulus looks down at his sleeve, closing a hand over his forearm. It burns, though Regulus can’t tell why. He isn’t being Called, and the tattoo is old enough he normally can’t feel it. Maybe it’s the guilt. 

He’ll show James, he thinks. Before Easter. When there’s not too much of the year left, and they don’t have to run into each other in the halls. When he no longer has to see his face. 

He just- he just wants more time. 

The thing inside him lifts its ugly head. It’s still in there, disgusting and unsettling, though it’s faded into the background the past few weeks. Now though, it comes back with a vengeance, turning his stomach. 

He wonders if it’s the proximity to the Dark Lord that’s stirring it up. Then he wonders if it’s the distance from school- from safety. He’s not sure. Voldemort said he’d train him, teach him how to use whatever stolen power he planted inside him. Maybe that’s what he’s got planned for this break. 

He still doesn’t want it. He wonders if there’s still enough time to get it out of him. It isn’t his, and it never will be. Harold didn’t die for an article on pastries, he died so Regulus could use his essence to serve his lord. And he hates it. 

He’s getting more and more tired lately- like the transplanted magic is sapping all his energy. Or maybe that’s just school. 

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” Barty asks quietly, head up against the window. Regulus looks up, but Barty’s eyes aren’t on him, watching the rain stain down the glass. “If my photo turns up in a paper somewhere?”

His dad, Regulus thinks. “Yeah,” he murmurs, clearing his throat. “I bet he would.”

They go quiet again, for who knows how long. It takes a while for Regulus to speak. “How bad is it going to be this time?”

Barty shrugs. “He’s been sending letters.”

Regulus pictures his own pile of envelopes, all marked with a black wax seal on his bed stand. “Right.”

“I’ll learn, this time. How to get out of it.”

Regulus casts his gaze towards the ceiling. “Some Imperios are harder to break than others.”

“That’s no excuse.”

The words sink into his stomach and he’s about to say something before-

“I should’ve- I should try harder.”

Regulus nods. “You will.”

“Maybe my Mum will he-”

“She won’t.” Regulus learned long ago giving Barty false hope never got him anywhere good. 

“You’re right.” Barty lets out a low groan.

The sound sends Evan stiring next to them, blinking awake. “How long?”

Regulus shrugs. “We’ve got time.”

“Ugh. Should’ve slept longer.”

It’s quiet, without the girls. Pandora stops by sometimes, but mostly just to talk to Regulus. She has her own Ravenclaw friends, and Dorcas doesn’t speak to them anymore. 

“Is there a meeting this break?” Evan asks, clearing the sleep from his throat with a swallow. 

“I’m sure,” Barty says. “It’s high time. The real question is: are we invited?”

“Reg certainly is,” Evan intones. “He’s all important now.”

“You have to tell us what happened on that mission.” 

“Nothing happened,” Regulus says softly, staring at the ground. “Stop asking.”

“You keep saying you went with your mother but-”

“Barty.”

“-we all know the Dark Lord took you with him.”

“Barty.”

“Did you do something interesting? Did you find something for him, or beat up some mudbloods? Oh- did the two of you kill anyone?”

Regulus is in the hall, door shutting behind him, before anyone can blink. Crossing his arms over his chest, he walks down the hallway and till he finds an empty compartment. He’s in the mood to be alone. 

The rain comes down harder, sky dark. He hugs himself tighter and draws his knees to his chest, resting his head on them as he stares out the window. 

He stays like that for the rest of the ride.

 

---

 

“Dad?”

“James.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How are you doing?”

“...I’ve been better.”

James has to take a deep breath, grip tightening on the door frame. Who’s fault is that? he wants to scream, but the relief of seeing his father alive and well triumphs and he ultimately shoves the words back down his throat. “I missed you,” He says instead, one last attempt at an olive branch, and watches as his father’s expression tightens. 

“I missed you too.”

James stares at him for another moment before huffing out a laugh and turning on his heel, ready to walk out. Behind him, he hears Monty take a breath. “James. Wait.”

James turns around slowly, eyes hard. He’s angry, obviously, and he can’t seem to find it in himself to care. “What’s up?”

“You’re mad. Why?”

“Why do you think?”

Monty stares at him, shifting on the couch. “I just said I missed you.”

“Not enough to write to me.”

“I was busy.”

“Tell that to the pile of letters you sent Sirius.”

“James-”

“Look, I don’t care, alright? I don’t. Write to me if you want.“ James shakes his head. "You have every right to be mad at me. But not telling me you ran out of potions? Really, Dad? Mum had to write me.”

Monty takes a moment to gather his words. “I’m not mad at you.”

James raises one brow, staying silent. Monty sighs. 

“I’m not mad at you. You did what you had to do. I made my choice. So did you. So I’m not mad… just resentful.”

Somehow, that’s worse.

“Resentful.” James narrows his gaze. “Resentful? That’s why you didn’t tell me? That’s why you didn’t write? Because you resented me?”

“You make me sound like a child.”

“Maybe because you’re acting like one.”

They both watch each other from across the room, taking deep breaths. “I’m doing this for you James. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the potions ran out- I didn’t know if it mattered, and honestly, I didn’t want to. I acted immaturely, and I’m sorry. But this, whatever this is, I’m doing it for you. I want you to remember that.”

James presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath. ”And I want you to be doing it for yourself.”

Monty shakes his head. “I’m not. You know that. I’m doing this because you asked me to. I don’t-  Merlin, James, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be stuck on the couch, unable to get up unless my wife helps me. You begged me- made me do this- and I did, because I love you, because I'd do anything for you. That doesn't mean I'm happy with my decision.” 

Dropping his hands, James frowns. “But you made it anyway. Because of me.”

Monty pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t blame you for asking me to take the potions.” 

“No, you just resent me for it.”

Monty stares at him for a long moment. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

James runs a hand through his hair, letting out a bitter laugh. “Nothing. It’s fine. It doesn't matter. I have more for you, I’ll give them to you later. I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you resent me. I don’t regret what I did- and in the end, you’re still the one that agreed. Even if it was slightly coerced.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Merlin, dad, I don’t care if you never talk to me again, just drink the potions.” 

He means every word. 

Monty doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Sometimes, for your own sake, I wish you’d care a little less about those you love.”

James almost bears his teeth when he smiles. “Me too.”

“Regulus-”

“I don’t want to talk about Regulus.”

“Fine.”

An awkward silence falls between the two of them, the accumulation of all the words left unsaid bearing down. Or maybe it’s that there’s nothing left to say, the lack of words, that’s really weighing on them. 

James nods after a moment, decisive and decided. “It’s good to see you, Dad. I missed you.” With that he turns and walks out, passing Sirius and Effie and going to his room. He shuts his door and flops down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He’s missed this smell. He’s missed this house. 

It’s going to be a long two weeks, he decides. 

Notes:

Ugh this was a slog y'all and it ended so short too
Sorry if this chapter isn't very interesting- it's more just set up. everything and nothing happens in this one lol
Thank you so so much for everyone's support I love it it keeps me going thank you mwah

Chapter 48: Whispers

Notes:

Sorry this is so late!! oops!!! enjoy anyway

Narcissa finds him in the courtyard. Regulus is perched on a stone bench, bent over to scribble his Charms Essay. It’s a miserable Christmas, with no snow to speak of but rainy enough to keep everyone inside anyway. Regulus has taken to resisting that notion- choosing to shiver in the garden until the rain starts coming down. Even then, sometimes he takes a minute to stand under the downfall, letting the drops chill him to his core.

Now, though, the sky stays dry, even if it’s a ugly-grey sort of dry. Narcissa picks up his parchment, kicking his leg to the ground and taking a seat in its place. She hands him a small package, wrapped in dark blue cloth. 

“Happy Christmas.”

He takes it slowly, glancing up at her. “Still got a few days, cousin.”

She shrugs. “Thought it’d be best to open one without any eyes.”

“Hm.” Regulus sets it down slowly in his lap. “Thank you.”

She catches his arm, pulling it towards her and lifting his sleeve slowly. Regulus stares up at the sky as she scans the Mark, turning his wrist left and right. “That healed nicely.”

“It’s just a tattoo.”

Narcissa shrugs, sleek blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Sometimes certain bodies reject the process.” She holds his forearm up, running her fingers over the skin. He shivers despite himself. “Did the Dark Lord tell you about why he chose this particular spot?”

Regulus leans back against the stone wall, watching her trace the curve of the snake on his arm. “No.”

“You can’t charm it off. There’s no spell that can undo what’s been done.” She sighs, raising her arm and holding it next to his. “But this, this placement- this is so if you took more physical, desperate measures, there’d still be no way out.”

“Oh,” Regulus says softly. 

“There are some key arteries and veins here,” Narcissa continues, running a finger over the inside of his wrist. “The antebrachial vein, for one, and the radial artery. If you were to cut deep enough to get under the mark, you’d bleed out.”

“Has anyone ever tried?”

She gives him a look. “Of course they have.”

“Why have I never heard of it?”

“The Dark Lord is good at burying bodies.”

He pulls his arm away from her grip, rolling his sleeve back down. “Since when do you know so much about anatomy?”

She leans back, smirking. “You think you’re the only one that reads around here?”

“Fair enough.”  

They go quiet, Regulus staring at the middle of the courtyard. It’s hard, being here and not remembering his trainings with Bellatirx. He spent so many agonizing hours kneeling on those stones. 

“I overheard Walburga talking about a match for you earlier.”

Regulus grimaces. “Does she have one in mind?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone specific yet.”

“Good. I’ll be able to hold her off then.”

“For how long?”

Regulus shrugs. “She’s tried before. As long as I need to, I suppose.”

Narcissa lets out a little sigh next to him. “Privileged,” she murmurs under her breath. He looks over at her, surprised.

“Did you just call me privileged?”

“Yeah.”

“Wha- how ?”

She gives him a long look, cold and piercing. “Before anything else, you’re the Black Heir. And after that, you're a boy. You think your parents would let you get off this easy if you were born  Regina instead of Regulus?”

Admittedly, he hadn’t considered that. “I-”

“Yeah.” Narcissa scrubs a hand over her face. “These aren’t things you’d have to think about, I suppose.”

“You and Lucius-”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Whatever emotions exist in that relationship were forged from convenience, nothing more.”

He thinks for a moment, trying to find a loophole. “Bella’s so close to the Dark Lord. She rose above her station.”

“Because she’s fucking insane.” Narcissa scoffs. “And married. And surely you don’t think her partnership with the Dark Lord is anything close to pure. You have no idea what she had to sacrifice to get where she is.”

Regulus stays quiet, letting that sink in.

“Anyway.” Narcissa lets out a short breath. “Just- use that privilege, I guess. Put off your marriage as long as you can, and when it becomes absolutely necessary, try your best to make sure she isn’t miserable.”

When he looks over, he notices Narcissa’s hand, resting lightly on her stomach. A suspicion scratches at the back of his mind but he shoves it away in favor of lifting the package from his lap. “Can I open this?”

She raises her brows at him and he nods, carefully pulling apart the fabric to reveal a small black velvet box. He lifts the lid slightly and tilts his head. Inside, nestled on a bed of black fabric, is a small gold bracelet. It’s undeniably delicate, each link so small it looks like it’s woven out of thread instead of metal. He lifts it carefully, looking to Narcissa for an explanation. She sighs. 

“It’s a family heirloom. I thought you should have it.”

His first thought is that he’d never wear anything that furthered his connection to his family, but the second is: “Gold?”

The Blacks wore silver. It was an unspoken rule. 

Narcissa clears her throat. “It was Alphard’s.” 

Regulus sucks in a breath. “Oh.”

“I thought it was only fair, since Sirius is getting everything else. I thought you should have something of his.”

“Thank you.” Regulus says softly, picking up the bracelet and studying it carefully. “It’s beautiful.”

She helps clip it around his wrist, hesitating a moment before pulling his sleeve over it. “They’ll- Walburga might recognize it,” she says in lieu of an explanation. 

“Right.” He can feel Narcissa’s eyes on him. “What?”

“Nothing.” And then: “That’s a lie. I’m curious what the Dark Lord’s plans for you are. It’s obvious-”

He tips his face towards the sky, not looking at her.

“It’s obvious you’re special.”

The thing inside him rolls over, sending his intestines twisting and wrapping around his stomach. It feels like they’re molding. “Ah.”

“Can you tell me?”

And- it’s not that he can’t, or he’s been forbidden, or anything like that- he just doesn’t have the energy. He shakes his head after a second and she nods, clipped and understanding. 

“Fine.” She stands up and hands his essay back, shading her eyes against the non-existent sun and glancing up as she walks out. “Careful. It might rain soon.”

It does, ten minutes later. For once, Regulus just goes inside.

---

 

“Reg. Get dressed. We’re going out.”

Regulus, hand still on the knob of his bedroom door, just stares. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Ev’s downstairs,” Barty shrugs. “We were bored.”

“I can’t just-”

“Look, it’s eight PM on a Saturday. What Black family duties could you possibly have to attend to?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, still a little taken aback by the sight of Barty in his house. “I don’t know, sleeping?”

“Sleeping. You’re going to sleep at eight pm.”

“Where would we go?”

Barty grins. “Muggle London.”

“Muggle?” Regulus asks incredulously. 

Barty shrugs, lifting his hands. “Say what you will, but those bastards know how to drink.”

“Barty- I mean- how did you even get in here?”

“Your elf. He likes me.”

“I will be having a word with Kreature.”

Barty grabs his arm and tugs him forward. “Ok. Come on.”

Regulus stumbles into the hallway, turning around and closing his door behind him. He doesn’t trust his family enough to keep it open- the Basilisk fangs beneath his bed would be easy enough to find if someone looked hard enough. 

“I need to tell my mother.”

Barty sighs, giving him a look. “How’s that gonna fly?”

Regulus hesitates, then lets out a defeated breath. “Kreature?”

A pop. “Yes, Master?”

“If my Mother asks, tell her I had to… visit a friend. Tell her it was Pandora. Can you do that?”

“Of course, Master.”

“But don’t- only if she asks, alright Kreature?”

“Alright.”

“Thank you.” He dismisses Kreature with a wave and turns back to Barty, rolling his eyes at his expression. “Stop that. Be grateful I’m even entertaining this.”

“It’s Christmas! We all need some fun.”

“Right.”

They meet Evan outside, finding him leaning up against a fence post on the other side of the street, shivering and lighting a cigarette. “Fucking finally. It’s bloody cold out here.”

“Let’s get a move on.”

“How? We can’t apperate-”

Regulus shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “We’re taking the tube.”

Both boys blink at him. “How do you even know-”

Regulus shrugs, turning around and walking away. “Hurry up.”

“Hey!”

The tube is a success, once Regulus convinces Barty and Evan to act fucking normal about it. They’re a little rattled, keeping a death grip on the handles the whole time, but they make it through. 

They find their way to a pub, and then to another, before they settle down at one they like and take a booth. Barty leans forward, putting his head in his hands, resting on the table. “I’m so bloody sick of school.”

Evan pats him on the back. “We’re on break, mate.”

“You know what I mean.”

Regulus sighs, leaning into the cushion of the booth and lets the gentle buzz of alcohol relax his system a bit. “One more semester.”

Barty lifts his head just to give him a look. “And then another entire year.”

“-and then we’re done!” Evan intones. “And I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Once the Dark Lord takes power, I doubt he’ll keep Hogwarts open much longer.”

Regulus looks around quickly but Evan just shakes his head. “They’re all muggles. They have no idea what we’re talking about.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’ll close it down forever,” Barty says. “Just restrict who’s let in. We’ll still need a place to educate young witches and wizards.”

“Maybe Slytherin’s dream will be realized.” Evan agrees, taking another sip of his drink. 

Regulus looks up sharply at that. Saskia talked so much about her Master he feels like he knows him personally by now. Besides, he’s read his journals. “Yeah, but that would be past what Slytherin wanted. He just didn’t want any muggle-borns. Half-bloods were fine.”

Barty wrinkles his nose. “Really? How do you know?”

Regulus shrugs. “It’s in Hogwarts, a History.” It wasn’t, actually, but he knew Barty well enough to know he wouldn’t second guess that. 

“If you say so.” Barty sighs and stands up, sidling past Evan to get out of the booth. “I’m getting us more.” He grabs the empty glasses and heads to the bar. 

Evan watches him go before turning back to Regulus, talking quickly. “He seems like himself, doesn’t he?”

“Wha- Barty?” Regulus blinks. “Yes?”

“Right. Good.” Evan nods to himself.

Regulus stares at him. “Did something happen?”

“No. Not- not yet. I think it’s fine.”

Regulus nods, resting his head in his hand. “He’ll get it eventually. Breaking free of the Imperio, I mean. It’s not too bad once you find the key.”

Evan spares him a glance. “You’d know, I suppose.”

Normally Regulus would push back on that, but he’s a little tipsy and enjoying the calm atmosphere. He just shrugs. “Guess I would.”

“I- what is he doing?” Evan cuts himself off, starting at the bar. Regulus follows his gaze, frowning.

Barty is leaning up against the counter, talking to some girl in a short skirt and high ponytail. She’s gesturing vaguely while he smirks and subtly leans closer. 

Regulus watches for a moment before turning back to Evan. “Flirting, I'd imagine.”

The lines around Evan’s mouth harden. “Why?”

“Dunno.” Regulus looks over the girl again, tipping his head. “She’s… pretty.”

“Not that pretty,” Evan says indignantly. 

Regulus scans his face. Oh. 

“No. Not that pretty.” He pushes to his feet and goes up to the bar, standing close enough to Barty to essentially get between them. “Barty.”

“What?” 

Regulus narrows his eyes, a silent warning. “Where’s our drinks?”

“You gonna introduce me to your mate?” The girl asks, turning to face Regulus. Another one- her friend, assumedly- comes up next to her. 

“Yeah, who’s this?” She looks Regulus up and down and he takes a step back, suddenly in over his head.

“This-” Barty says, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Is Regulus. Reg, meet Veronica and… sorry, I didn’t catch your friend’s name.”

“Susan.”

“Oh, Susan. Lovely name. Isn’t it, Reg?” 

Regulus turns to give Barty a dangerous look. “Our drinks?”

Barty rolls his eyes and waves a hand to the bartender, summoning him over. Susan takes another step. “So. Regulus. What did you do to get stuck with a name like that?”

“Uh- my parents are really into astronomy.” 

Susan crinkles her brows. “What does astronomy have to do with anything?”

Regulus looks desperately over to Evan, who’s sitting back and smiling. He waves, looking smug. “Regulus. It’s a star.”

“Oh. So what do you do, starboy?”

He leans back against the counter, watching the bartender pour the drinks. “I’m still in school.”

She rolls her eyes. “Me too, obviously. I meant, what do you do outside of school? You know, like a hobby?”

He stares at her. “Uh… read, I guess?”

“Wow. An academic. So you must be pretty smart then, huh?”

He shrugs, and she smiles. It’d be a nice smile, he thinks, if she wasn’t trying so hard. “Do you smoke, Regulus?”

“On occasion.”

She pulls out a pack from her pocket, raising a brow. “Would you consider this an occasion?”

Barty kicks him, hard, under the counter. He sighs, giving up. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Let’s go outside. You can’t smoke in here, I don’t think.”

Regulus has always been shit at saying no. And besides, he could use a cigarette. “Alright.”

He follows her out, turning a corner and leaning up against the wall of an alley. She hands him a cigarette and he takes it, leaning in to let her light it. 

They smoke in silence for a moment. Regulus glances up at the sky, finding only a hazy sort of glow. You can’t see the stars here, he thinks.

Too much light pollution. 

“So, do you come here often or-”

“Susan,” He interupts, not looking at her. 

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not getting anywhere, am I?”

“...No.”

“Is there still a chance?”

“Not really.”

“Alright.” Surprisingly, she seems to shrug it off and goes back to leaning up against the wall next to him. After a moment, she sends him a curious but playfully suspicious look. “Anything I could’ve done differently?”

He pauses, looks at the ground. “Not particularly. You aren’t the problem.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “You got a girlfriend?”

“...No.”

She smiles knowingly. “Ah."

They go back to smoking silently. He feels rude, after a moment. “You’re nice, if that helps. Pretty as well, I think.”

“You think.”

“I’m not the best judge of stuff like that.”

“You’re pretty too.” she smiles at him, and he finds he much prefers this smile to the one from earlier. It’s softer. Less forced, more relaxed. There’s nothing behind this one, no secret intention he can’t quite read. 

“Thanks.”

“They don't know, do they? Your mates back there?”

He takes a long drag, watching the ember rapidly approach the filter. “Know what?”

“That I’m not exactly… your type.

He lets out the smoke, long and slow. “No. They don’t.”

She nods, tapping her cigarette on the wall behind them. “Do you have someone, then? Someone who does know?”

He lets the alcohol lower his guard, leaning in to the reassuring fact that she’s a stranger from another world, someone he’ll most likely never see again. “Yeah.” he says, and smiles. “I do.”

“He sounds special.”

“He is.”

She looks over, eyes softening. “What’s your favorite thing about him?”

Regulus opens his mouth then closes it again. Just one thing? “His… persistence.”

“His persistence?” She laughs. “Not his smile or abs?”

“Those are good too.” 

She clicks her tongue. “You can’t tell your friend in there? He seemed a bit sleezy, but probably a good guy.”

Regulus laughs lightly. “No. He would not… be alright with this. James- my- I mean. They are not mates.”

“Ah.” She nods. “So it’s secret. Sexy.”

He smiles. “I suppose.” He puts out his cigarette and slides his hands back into his pockets. “So what do you do? Like a hobby, I mean.”

She gives him a look before tilting her head back. “Nothing special. I wish I was good at something cool, but I’m not that interesting. I play guitar in a band, if that means anything.”

Regulus frowns. “Guitar?”

She squints at him. “You know, like the instrument?”

“...Sure.”

Suddenly, the air in the alleyway shifts a little colder, though that might just be in Regulus’s head. He looks up, straightening instantly and pushing off the wall. Susan looks up too, taking a step closer to Regulus as she sucks in a breath. There’s a man standing in the entrance, silhouette large and imposing.

But-

But Regulus knows that shape. Knows those robes. 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles. Susan moves behind him an inch, breath hitching. He remembers what usually happens in the muggle world when strange men show up in sketchy alleyways, and lets her use him to shield herself. 

“Sir?” he grits out, teeth clenched.

“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore says, taking a step forward. 

This is… not ideal. 

You never want to run into your teachers outside of school, but here? Now? When he’s decidedly tipsy outside a muggle pub shielding an equally drunk girl? This was definitely not ideal. 

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“This has got to be illegal,” Regulus murmurs. 

Susan clears her throat. “Do you know this guy?”

“He’s my teacher. I don’t know why he’s here, though.”

She drops her voice to a whisper. “Is he… safe?”

Regulus narrows his eyes at Dumbledore, looking entirely out of place among the muggle streets of London. “He won’t hurt us.”

“Who’s your friend?” Dumbledore asks, walking towards them slowly.

Susan clears her throat. “Susan. Why did you track down Regulus outside of school hours?”

Dumbledore is still wearing that infuriating gentle smile. “I needed to talk to him.”

“And you couldn’t wait till after break?”

Regulus feels like he should interrupt, but honestly he’s asking the same questions.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Dumbledore peers at them over his glasses. “Susan, would you mind giving us a minute alone?”

Susan narrows her eyes. “I don’t think-”

Regulus looks down at her. “It’s fine. Go back inside. Enjoy your night.”

She gives him a look. “Say goodbye before you leave, idiot.”

“I will.”

Huffing, she walks out and turns the corner. Regulus looks back at Dumbledore. “This feels like a boundary you shouldn’t be crossing.”

“Desperate times, Mr. Black. Sorry to interrupt your night. She seems nice.”

“That’s definitely a boundary.”

Dumbledore gives him an amused look as they both realize how much the alcohol is affecting him. He frowns. “Why are you here, Sir ?”

“I assumed it’d be better than arriving unannounced to your home residence. To my knowledge, there’s going to be a meeting with Voldemort and his Death Eaters tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d heard anything about that.”

“Why would I?”

Dumbledore levels him with a knowing look, not dropping that infuriating smile. “I believe our interests align. It’s pertinent we get as much information as possible in order to save as many lives as we can.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “I don’t-”

“Susan’s life could be on the line.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Regulus scoffs, then blanches when he realizes he’s said it outloud. “Sir.” he adds, as if that’ll fix anything. 

Dumbledore doesn’t blink, doesn’t react. “I know you’re connected to him, Mr. Black.”

“We seem to be going in circles with these little meetings.”

Dumbledore sighs. “You’ve been identified as an official Death Eater.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know that you’re still under my care, attending my school. If I can keep you safe-”

“You mean if you can use me for this opportunity.” 

“-I’m going to do so, while I still can.” Dumbledore finishes.

“This hardly feels like you’re trying to keep me safe.”

“I’m sorry that’s the way I’m coming off.”

“You spiked my tea-”

“A necessary measure.”

“You intercepted my mail, you watched my common room, to followed me to muggle-London-”

Dumbledore splays his palms. “I’ve done what I’ve had to do. This is a matter of survival, Mr. Black. The greater good. Anything you can give me would be immensely helpful.”

“I can’t give you anything.”

“I know that’s not true, Regulus. You’re letting your fear guide you.”

“How’s that?” Someone asks from behind Dumbledore. The headmaster turns to reveal Barty and Evan, their postures stiff. 

“Mr. Crouch. Mr. Rosier. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah.” Evan crosses over, standing next to Regulus. Barty follows him. “Funny running into you here, Professor. So far from school.”

“I needed a word with-”

“He’s a bit busy.” Barty throws an arm around Regulus’s shoulders. “And besides. Whatever you think you know about him- about us- doesn’t matter here. He’s told you he’s not gonna be your spy. Maybe it’s time to drop it, Sir.”

Dumbledore tips his head. “This is time sensitive. I can do whatever I need to-”

“How ‘bout you wait till after Christmas, then?”

“Very well.” Dumbldore looks them over. “I can see I’m not getting anywhere. Expect a letter, Mr. Black.” With that, he turns and disapperates.

Regulus takes a stumbling step forward, heart rate spiking. “He can’t- he can’t send me a letter. That- he can’t do that.” If his parents got a hold of that- and they would- then…

“It’s fine. He’s probably bluffing.” Evan says, setting a hand on his shoulder. 

“That guy is a fucking creep,” Barty gripes. 

Regulus has to take a minute to get his breathing back under control. “Yeah,” he manages eventually. 

"Why was he here?"

"To show me that he could be, I think. To prove he can track me."

“Ready to head out?” Evan asks.

“Just- I should go back in for a second.”

“Why?”

“I- should talk to Susan.” He learned long ago it’s always best to say goodbye- especially when someone asks you to.

Evan frowns. “Who’s Susan?”

Regulus blinks at him and Barty laughs, giving him a light shove. “Go get ‘em. Don’t take too long.”

He nods distantly and heads back inside, finding Susan seated at the bar. He goes up to her, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Susan.”

She turns around, smiling. “Starboy! Did you get your teacher to leave?”

“Took a bit of coaxing. Barty and Evan helped. I assume you sent them?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t like his vibe. Didn’t trust him. It’s fucking creepy to approach your student outside of school near a pub.”

“Smart.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” She pulls a napkin towards her and scribbles down a string of numbers. “This is my number. Don’t worry- I’m not making a move. But use it, ‘k? Whenever you want.”

He takes it after a moment. He has no phone, nor does he know how to work one. But even so, it’s a nice gesture. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you. Sorry I… sorry.”

She frowns. “Nothing to apologize for. And nice meeting you too, Regulus. I’ll see you around, ok?” 

That’s not true, but he offers her a small smile and lets her think it is. 

 

---

 

“You had a late night.” Walburga frowns as Regulus comes down stairs, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” he dips his head and takes a seat at the kitchen table. He focuses on his food for a moment before speaking up. “Is there a meeting tonight?”

“Yes.” Walburga neatly folds the newspaper she was reading, setting it down next to her. “You’re expected to attend, of course.”

“Alright.”

“Bella is coming over later to practice Occlumency with you.”

“...Alright.”

She gives him a sharp look, but chooses not to comment on his hesitation. “After breakfast I’ll watch you practice. I imagine school’s left little time for the violin.”

“Ok.”

“Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“Tonight I want you on your best behavior. I expect nothing less.”

“Of course, Maman.”

 

---

 

Monty starts taking the potions, eventually. James sees the empty bottles on the nightstand. 

They don’t talk.

Remus comes over two days before Christmas, and James immediately notices the change between him and Sirius. More casual touches, leaning into each other at the dinner table, waking up in the same room. Even if it’s not said, everyone knows. 

James is happy for them. Honestly. Genuinely. Merlin knows it took long enough. But-

But.

The thing he’s been desperately trying not to think about creeps up on him everytime he sees their fingers interlaced, breathing down his neck when Sirius slings an arm over Remus’s shoulders. 

He sees it in everything, a dark snake twisting around the edges of his subconscious, a skull hovering just over his left shoulder. 

In his dreams, Regulus pulls out a wand and curses James, sends him to his knees, makes him hurt.

In his dreams, Regulus tucks his hair behind his ear and brews him sleeping potions before he has to ask. 

He’s… struggling. The guilt is overwhelming. He can hardly meet Sirius or Remus’s eyes in fear they’ll see what he’s done. What he knows. What he chooses to ignore. 

A muggle attack turns up in the paper, and for the first time James has to seriously contend with the notion that Regulus might have been involved. He doesn’t know what to do with the slurry of emotions that thought brings up. 

So-

He does nothing. He shoves them down. He laughs with Sirius, winks at Remus, even gives his father the occasional soft smile. He makes it work. 

His mother, of course, sees right through him.

“James?”

James looks up from his bed, shutting his book after a minute. “Mum. What’s up?”

She hovers in the doorway for a minute, watching him carefully. “The boys want to play a board game, I think. Do you want to join us?”

“No thanks. I think I’ll just read for a bit.”

She lets out a soft sigh, closing her eyes. “James.”

“Mm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know wha-”

“Come on.” She steps in and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, studying him carefully. “You’ve been off all break.”

He scrambles for something to say, something reasonable. He settles on a half-truth. “It’s hard. With Dad.”

She pinches her lips into a line. “Have you two still not talked? I mean, after…”

James shrugs. “There’s nothing to say.”

“You’re both so alike.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have never met two more stubborn people in my life.”

“I’m not stubborn-”

She gives him a look. “Think about how hard you’re fighting to keep him alive.”

“Think about how hard he’s trying to die!” 

Effie tips her head. “Stubborn.”

“Fine.” James sits back, staring at the wall. “I don’t- I don’t understand why you’re indulging him.”

“He’s a grown man. He can make his own choices.”

“He’s making the wrong ones.”

“To you,” Effie smiles. “To him, it’s what he feels is right.”

“Who’s side are you on?” James hisses. 

She gives him a sad smile. “James. I understand why you’re feeling the way you are. But-” For the first time, she looks hesitant. 

“What?”

She takes a deep breath. “Dragon Pox is incredibly contagious.”

James is sitting up in an instant, stomach dropping to the floor. “Have you-”

“I’m fine,” She smiles, and he lets his heart rate calm. “For now. But if it was me, and it will be, one day, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here. Sometimes- sometimes death can be the right answer. Especially if you’re ready.”

“But-”

“What happens when you run out of potions? When Regulus runs out of ideas?”

“He won’t.”

She gives him a long look. “He may have figured it out before but-”

“You don’t know him. He wouldn’t give up. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He’ll figure it out.”

“He’s told you what the potions do, right?”

“What?”

“Your father?”

He must look confused because she nods. “They hurt, James. They make his joints ache for weeks after he takes them, and his whole body flares up for 3 hours after every dose.”

“...What?”

“He didn’t tell because he didn’t want you to feel bad, but he can hardly move each time. It’s not an easy choice. It never has been.”

James can’t breathe. “It’s that bad?”

She nods, eyes glistening. “It’s that bad.”

“But he…”

“He stays alive. He keeps living. He gets to talk to you and Sirius. But it’s agony, James. He’s only here for you.”

The guilt has wrapped itself around his neck, choking out his words and shoving them back down his throat. He’s tearing in half, heart splitting right down the middle as the realization sinks into him. “Oh,” he says softly. “I’ve been awful to him.”

“No, James-”

“Of course he hates me. Of course. I’ve- I’ve been forcing him to take potions that-”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“Why?” James asks, voice cracking. “Why didn’t I know? Why would he let me…”

“You were so scared of losing him. He saw that. To tell you what that fear was doing to him would’ve felt cruel.”

“Why does no one tell me when I’m hurting them?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“Regulus, and his head, and then what Dorcas said about- and now dad, and the potions. I can’t- I can’t…” He leans forward, trying desperately to get his breathing back under control.

Effie sets a hand on his back, rubbing lightly. “Breathe, James. None of this is your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

“You didn’t know.”

Something inside James cracks because no, he didn’t know. He never knows. Not until it’s too late. “I’m going to lose him,” he says softly, and tears start to spill down his cheeks. “I’m going to lose both of them.”

“What-”

The mark burns into his vision, seared behind his eyelids. “Sorry,” He curses, swiping his hand across his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Monty’s taking the potions like you asked. You aren’t going to lose him.”

James takes a shuddering breath. “Yeah, but not any longer, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t ask him to keep taking the potions. Not now I know what they do. How can I?”

“Oh, James.”

“I need- can I have a minute?”

Effie gives him a long look before standing up with a sigh, reaching out to wipe the tears off his face. “He loves you, no matter what. We both do.”

James watches her go, staring down at his hands. He wishes he could talk to Regulus. That thought brings a whole new hell. He just- he wants to talk this out. With someone logical, someone who won’t get unnecessary emotions involved. Or that would know how to deal with them when they inevitably do. Or… shit.

He buries his head in his hands. He needs his father. Needs him like he needs oxygen. But to know he’s hurting, to know he’s putting himself through hell for James’s sake, it’s unbearable. 

Standing up, he goes to the door, hand on the knob. 

Losing his father would be worse. 

He turns around and paces back to the bed, sitting down and letting out a frustrated huff. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that this is his burden, that he has to make this choice. It’s ripping him apart. 

But.

But it’s not, he thinks. Not his choice, not his burden. He can beg as much as he wants to, but at the end of the day his mother is right. It’s his father’s decision, through and through. 

He makes it downstairs and brushes past his mother, Sirius, and Remus in favor of pushing open his father’s door. 

“Dad.”

---

 

“Regulus Black.” The Dark Lord tips his head in his direction. “The meeting starts in five minutes. You’re early.”

Regulus tips his head, still hovering in the doorway. The Dark Lord sits alone at the end of the long stone table, eyes fixed firmly on Regulus. “Apologies, my Lord. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk, privately.”

The Dark Lord considers for a moment before nodding, beckoning him in. “Don’t just stand there. Enter.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Well?”

Regulus clears his throat, trying not to grimace in disgust. “I would like to talk about the new… power you gifted me with.” 

“Ah.” The Dark Lord looks up in real interest. “What about it?”

“I- I don’t know if it took properly. I can’t feel… anything good.”

“You can’t feel it?”

“I can feel something. But it isn’t power.”

The Dark Lord narrows his eyes. “Not by your standards, maybe.”

“My Lord-”

“-this is just another step, Regulus. I need you by my side. I don’t have the time to personally walk you through the transfusion.”

“I just wanted to see if there’s anything I should know.”

“You don’t think I’d tell you?”

Regulus clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s making me sick, my Lord. 

“Sick?”

“I’m too tired, too often, and something inside me doesn’t feel… right.” 

The Dark Lord studies him for a moment before tipping his head. “Don’t blame me for your weak immune system. If you can’t even handle a common cold-”

“Nevermind.” Regulus says, letting out a soft breath. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

The Dark Lord nods to the chair a little way down the table and that’s that.

As Death Eaters file in around him, Regulus takes his seat numbly. Evan sits across from him, giving him a long look Regulus doesn’t quite know how to interpret.

“Are you ok?” He mouths, but Regulus just looks away. How can he explain? James is the only one that knows, he realizes. But even he doesn’t understand how much Regulus feels like he’s rotting away.

“Welcome, my children. We have a lot to discuss.”

The meeting drags on, long and laborious, until Regulus finds himself zoned out and staring at the table. He just wants to sleep. 

“Mr. Black.” 

He snaps to attention, raising his head and blinking in the direction of the voice. “Apologies, my Lord.”

“I believe this applies to you. I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”

“Of course.”

The Dark Lord laces his fingers under his chin. “We need an informant. On the other side. Preferably around the age of you and Rosier and Crouch.”

“An informant?” Regulus looks from Evan to the Dark Lord. “Who?”

“I am not sure yet. I wanted to know if you could think of anyone who’s allegiance might be turned. A classmate, perhaps? A Gryffindor?”

Regulus blinks at him. “No one I know would…”

Voldemort waves his hand. “Let's skip this. Save time.” 

And without warning, he forces his way into Regulus’s head. 

It’s sharp and painful, so entirely different from Bellatrix that it takes Regulus a second to conjure up a screen. He tries to imagine his thoughts melting away, but the Dark Lord tears through his ocean and grabs at whatever he can find, somehow rooting through memories that Regulus barely manages to rip out of his reach. 

Regulus slumps forward at the table, eyes screwed shut as he concentrates. He can’t defend himself- his only control rests in which specific memories to hide. He lets the Dark Lord go straight to his database of faces, scanning through his classmates like shuffling cards. Some faces are clearer than others, well defined in Regulus’s mind. He pauses on Sirius’s face a moment before moving on, since it stands out like a beacon, imposing and important. Regulus notices where he’s going next a few seconds too late. 

Kind, chocolate-brown eyes that glow in the sun.

A flashing grin. 

Fuck.

Voldemort rips out of his head, leaving Regulus nauseous and panting, bent over the table. His heart pounds in his chest, entire body thrumming with nerves. Shit, shit, shit-

“The Potter boy?”

He goes still, breath still caught in his throat. Every inhale tastes like blood. “My Lord-”

“I hardly think he would betray his parent’s cause.”

Everything about this conversation is so fucking wrong- James’s name should never be mentioned here, at this table, on those lips. His worlds are colliding with a terrifying force, dangerous and sudden.

“I agree, my Lord.” he refuses to look at Evan.

“So why…” The Dark Lord studies him carefully. “It was an inside job, you know. Taking down Fleamont Potter. Though- he’s proved resistant, annoyingly. The potions those bloody doctors have concocted are actually working."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Regulus can’t ignore the thrum of pride the words send through him.

“Still, if you think he may be pliable…”

Regulus shakes his head. “I don’t. He’d never-”

“Don’t lie, Mr. Black. I’ve seen inside your head. There’s no reason for fallacies. His face appeared most vibrantly when I searched.”

“He’s stubborn, my Lord, he’d never-”

“But you think he can be swayed by you. Interesting. How do you know each other?”

Regulus opens his mouth, closes it again. He’s so afraid. “My brother's friend, my Lord.” 

“Hmm.” The Dark Lord looks up, eyes scanning his followers. “Either way, if any of you see him on a mission or in the field, bring him in for questioning. The brat might be worth something- especially since his parents are still heavily involved with the order and he knows Black, Crouch, and Rosier. Don't kill him, just bring him in. I want to speak with the boy.”

No. 

No.

“Would any of your brother’s other friends consider our side?” Voldemort asks. Reguls barely registers the words but Evan picks up his slack a second later. 

“I highly doubt it, my Lord. They’re frustratingly loyal.”

This is wrong. All wrong. James was always supposed to stay separate, stay out of this. This is Regulus’s world, the one only he knows how to survive. James wouldn’t make it a day. 

The Dark Lord moves on but Regulus stays there, hands clasped in his lap as he tries not to hyperventilate. 

This was never supposed to be dangerous for James. He was supposed to stay as far away from this as possible. But now his name’s been mentioned, he’s been distinguished as a target; and it’s all Regulus’s fault.

James would follow him anywhere, do whatever he needed to if it meant staying close to Regulus. But it was exactly that- his proximity to Regulus- that was putting him in danger. And that. 

That couldn’t be allowed. 

The Dark Lord left him no choice, then. He’d show James the Mark. The minute he gets back to school, he’ll force James to understand. The thought tears him apart- losing James will destroy him, he knows. But it’s necessary. If it means James stays away from the Death Eaters, if it means he doesn’t follow Regulus into danger, then it will be worth it. 

He’ll roll up his sleeve, watch James’s face fall in realization, watch him spit cruel words Regulus has imagined hundreds of times in his head. Watch him walk out the door. 

He’d rather die than see James hurt because of him. And it’ll hurt, of course. It’ll ruin him. But he’ll stay alive.

It was never meant to last, he thinks, even as everything inside him revolts at the notion. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. 

Somewhere through the fog, a voice, haunting and reptilian, murmurs:

Slowly, or all at once.

Notes:

get excited for the next one guys it's gonna get juicy
also this is so late bc I, like many others, watched the Arcane finale and immediately went into a Jayvik misery fueled haze and when I came out I'd written a fluffy one shot that had to be edited and posted immediately before I lost my mind. So anyway. Maybe check that out.
I love each and every one of your comments! thanks for reading!

Chapter 49: Black Star

Evan stares out the window, watching the scenery whip past. He actually likes the snow, unlike Barty. The calm wash of white makes everything feel a bit more tranquil. The flurry outside the windows hit the pane as the train takes a sharp corner, and Evan realizes it’s been 20 minutes since anyone’s spoken. In fact, no one’s really said anything since they met at the platform. He looks up, but Regulus is just staring out the window with that blank look on his face, knees drawn up to his chest. He hasn’t talked, but then again, he rarely does these days. 

Barty’s the odd one. When Evan glances over he finds him sitting with perfect posture, staring at the wall across from them. His eyes look so… empty. At the station he was terse and abrupt, but Evan just assumed he was tired and itching to get away from his father. Then they’d gotten on the train, and Evan figured he’d let the two of them settle in a bit before conversation, losing himself in the snow outside the window. But now it’s been twenty minutes and Barty still looks so blank. A tingle of fear runs down Evan’s spine as he reaches out and elbows him gently.

“Barty.”

Barty’s eyes slide to his, still unfocused. “What is it?”

Evan narrows his eyes at him and then glances over at Regulus, who still isn’t paying attention. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Barty.”

Barty’s expression doesn’t change, usually sharp expression dulled and relaxed. “What is it?”

And that-

That’s just fucking creepy. 

“Snap out of it.” Evan waves his hand in his face, jostling his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” a sneaking suspicion sends Evan’s stomach sinking. Surely he isn’t… surely his father wouldn’t…

“Reg?”

“Hm?”

“Can you- something’s wrong with Barty.”

Regulus looks over, tired eyes scanning them quickly. “What… oh. Shit.” he lets his legs drop to the floor as he stands hesitantly, crossing to them. “Barty.”

“What is it?”

Regulus curses in Parseltongue, something Evan’s had to adjust to recently. “Can you hear us?”

“Of course.”

Evan meets Regulus’s gaze, slightly panicked. “His father.”

“How long has he…”

“Since I met him at the platform, at least.”

“That’s not great.”

“No,” Evan snorts. “It’s not.”

“But he’s never broken out before, right?”

“Not on his own.”

Regulus drops to his knees in front of Barty, reaching out and grabbing his face, tilting it up. “Barty. Listen to me. I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.”

Barty’s face doesn’t move, but against his thigh, his pinky twitches. Evan grabs his hand, squeezing it tight between his. “Can’t we cast a counter curse?”

“Not if it’s an Imperio. Only the caster can undo it.” 

“So what-”

Regulus narrows his eyes at Barty, lips parting in a shuddering breath. “Barty, find a crack. You feel confined, right? Shoved in? There’s always a weak point. Feel along the edges of his power, somewhere he’s not paying attention, a chink in the armor. It’ll be there.”

When Barty doesn’t move, Evan glances at Regulus. “Always?”

“Always.” He says firmly, not looking at him. “Some are… some are just harder to find than others.”

“Oh.”

“He moved his hand earlier, right?”

Evan nods, and Regulus looks back to Barty. “There’s your weak point, then. Find that space that allowed you to move your finger, and focus on it. Squeeze Evan’s hand.”

Evan’s hyper aware of every point of contact between him and Barty. His fingers don’t move. 

“Barty,” Regulus says, voice low and direct. “Squeeze his hand.” 

And miraculously, he does. It’s gentle but there, a soft pressure against his fingers. Suddenly it’s a lot harder and he’s gripping Evan’s hand now, squeezing tight. Barty doubles over, gasping as his face contorts and twitches. 

Evan puts hand on Barty’s back, sending Regulus a panicked look. “Shit-”

“Fuck,” Barty spits, shuddering. Evan squeezes him tighter, rubbing his shoulder. Regulus sits back, letting out a breath.

“That fucker,” Barty croaks, but he hasn’t stopped shaking. “I’m- I’m going to kill him.”

“Not if I get there first,” Evan murmurs, heart clenching. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy,” Regulus supplies when Barty fails to answer. “Probably nauseous. Keep your head down and it’ll get better soon.”

Barty just lets out a low groan, still doubled over on the seat. “Shit.”

Evan runs his hands over Barty’s shoulder blades, leaning into him slightly. It’s rare for Barty to let himself be comforted like this, and Evan relishes in it. Everything in him longs to shower him with whispered gentle calming words, but Barty hates things like that. Pet names, or anything betraying the depth of his affection, really, has always been off the table. In another life, he thinks, he'd like it if Barty would kiss Evan in public and call him baby. “Breathe, idiot.”

“How long was it this time?” Regulus asks, voice low.

“About a week. I thought- I thought I wouldn’t be able to get out.”

Regulus shakes his head. “There’s always a chink in the armour.”

“Evidently.”

Regulus stands up, watching them carefully and leaning against the wall of the compartment near the door. Evan directs his attention back to Barty, murmuring softly. “Do you need water? A walk?”

“No. I need- I need my fucking head to stop spinning.”

“How-”

Suddenly Barty rolls up his sleeve and rakes his nails across his arm, hard and deep. Immediately angry red lines appear on his skin, pricking with blood when Barty gives it a second pass. Evan yelps and grabs his wrist, stilling him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Drawing blood.”

“Why?”

“Because I can. Because I choose to.”

"That's- don't do that."

"What else can I?" Barty struggles to pull his hand from Evan's grip but he holds firm. "If he can just- just take over for a few days, then I should at least be allowed to fuck up my own body. He wants me perfect? Tough luck. I want to go back to him bloody."

"Don't hurt yourself for him," Evan says, tugging Barty closer. "He doesn't deserve that. Instead of punishing him you're just punishing yourself." 

"Apparently," Barty says, grimacing, "That's the same thing now. Or it might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in my head."

Evan looks to Regulus for help but finds his spot empty, apparently having slipped out at some point. He looks back to Barty, apparently on his own with this. "He wants you to punish yourself. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"No, he wants me to be the ideal son." Barty shakes his head, wrenching his hand from Evan's grasp. "I won't give him that."

"I think you're already doing a good enough job." 

Barty shakes his head, bitter. "I don't think so."

Evan needs a distraction, something to get him off this train of thought. He reaches out slowly, cupping Barty's cheek and dragging his thumb over his lips. “There are other things, you know. Other things you can do that your father wouldn’t allow.”

Barty’s eyes flick up to meet his, piercing and direct. “I suppose you’re right,” he murmurs, and without further preamble he grabs Evans face and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

Evan has the foresight to send a locking charm at the door, a spell slamming the curtains on the compartment closed. Then he grabs Barty and pulls him closer, pressing their bodies together, slipping his tongue into his mouth. 

“This is a bad… this is a bad coping mechanism.” He mumbles between kisses. “We should talk or…”

Barty pulls back, making a face. “Talk?”

“You’re right. Go back to doing... that.”

Barty gives him that god-awful smirk and leans in again, hands sliding down Evan’s back and running over his waist and hips. “That can be arranged.”

“What would he think?” Evan gasps, leaning into the fire in his stomach. “What would he think if he saw you here, tongue down my throat and hands on my arse?”

Barty lets out a low growl and kisses him harder, said hands roaming lower. Evan smirks and continues as he lays kisses across Barty’s neck. “He’d hate this, wouldn’t he? His only son, the air to the Crouch name, fogging up the windows while grinding on a Death Eater? A bloke?”

“I’m not his bloody puppet,” Barty whispers and Evan nods.

“No. He gets no part of you. You’re fucking mine, Barty. ”

When he kisses him again, he uses his teeth. 

Regulus doesn’t come back for the entire train ride, which, for his sake, is probably a good choice. 

 

---

 

The dorm that night is quiet, save the faint whispers coming from Barty’s bed. Evan snuck in there a little over half an hour ago, closing the curtains after him. They’ve been talking in hushed tones ever since.

Regulus has curled himself up in the alcove that would be a window seat if Slytherin wasn’t in the dungeons. There’s a metal grate high on the wall, allowing a thin sliver of moonlight to stream down through the air. He stares up at it, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall. Pandora shoved a box of toffees at him the second she saw him, probably out of some sort of pity. He stuck one in his mouth for her sake and has been quietly letting it dissolve on his tongue. It turned from sweet to sickly far too quick. 

He wishes he could sleep. He wants to, desperately, everything in him begging for a rest. His entire body feels heavy and lethargic, but that's becoming more and more common these days. He wonders if he’s getting sick. Not like a cold, or a flu, but sick. Sick with something he won’t uncover until it’s too late, until all there’s left to do is waste away. 

He sort of feels like it. 

But the realistic part of him knows when this feeling started, knows who's to blame. For all his promises to Saskia, he’s still firmly stuck in the king’s labyrinth. He thinks if he saw the sun right now, he just might burn to have it. Then again, he might not even have the energy to lift off the ground. 

He closes his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. He needs to talk to James.  

It aches. Everything in him aches.

How the fuck is he supposed to-

How-

He runs a hand through his hair as his throat closes up, blinking quickly in an attempt to keep his tears back.  

He’s always known they were on a clock, a means to an end. But he thought… he thought they could wait. He thought there was still time. He thought this wouldn’t have to happen till the last week of school, or break, or something. Not so soon. Not now. 

But his name being mentioned at a Death Eater meeting, a target being put on his back, that was the last straw. That was unforgivable. All because of Regulus and his inability to keep his love gentle. 

He thinks about the toffee on his tongue that will waste away at his teeth if left too long, he thinks about James’ smile when he kisses him, and he wonders why death tastes so sweet. 

Tomorrow. He’ll do it tomorrow. 

Tonight, he’ll relish in the ability to call James his and mean it. 

He falls asleep against the stone, moonlight collecting in a pool at his feet. 

 

---

 

James stirs his curry with a spoon, staring as the mealy grains move around the bowl. It’s cold by now, mushy and slightly congealed. He probably should’ve eaten it sooner. He just… isn’t hungry.

“Oi, Prongs.”

He looks up, letting the spoon fall from his hand. “Mm?”

“Quidditch practice later?”

“Oh. Already?”

Sirius gives him an odd look. “Uh… yeah. You’re the captain, mate.”

“Right. I- er. Right. Do you wanna try your hand at that today? I’m kind of tired.” 

“Try my hand at…”

“The whole captain thing.” James rubs his eyes. “I just didn’t get a good sleep last night.”

Sirius blinks at him, narrowing his gaze. “You want to skip out on practice, quidditch practice, because you didn’t sleep well last night?”

Peter sends him a glance. “You look exhausted.”

James shakes his head. “Not exhausted, just… tired.”

Sirius looks between them. “And you just want to skip out on your captain duties?”

James, energy completely depleted, just sighs and stands up, shouldering his bag. “You can handle it, can’t you Pads? Thanks a ton.” Turning, he walks out without waiting for an answer. 

He was telling Sirius the truth, at least. He is tired. He hasn’t slept since…  actually, he can’t exactly remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep. He needs a sleep potion.

He makes his way to the Come and Go room, pushing open the door and shutting it behind him. It’s odd, being here alone. Without Regulus.

He goes to the brewing table and pulls out a sleeping draught from the little supply box Regulus keeps on the bottom shelf, just for him. It smells familiar and warm, and as he settles back on the bed the taste of lavender and chamomile sooth his aching nerves. 

He wonders how long he can go on pretending Regulus is still on his side. He wonders how much longer he’ll have a little box of sleeping potions safely tucked away on a shelf. 

It’s not like he’ll end things if he ever is forced to face the truth. James is confident he’d never leave Regulus- he doesn’t have nearly enough self respect for that. Besides, then who’d be there to keep him safe?

Safe. 

Like James has ever successfully kept someone safe. 

Guilt, all too familiar and all too punishing, starts to crawl beneath his skin. 

Remus was saved by a potion that Snape, of all people, researched and brewed. Regulus still goes back to that house every break, a dark mark branded into his skin. His father-

No. 

He really, really doesn’t want to think about his father right now.

The lavender swirls around his essence and James lays back against the pillows, burying himself in their warmth. It’s easier to sleep than continue down whatever path this line of thinking usually takes him on. He lets the potion drag him down. 

He wakes, what feels like hours later, to the sound of a door shutting. He sits up quickly, swiping sleep from his eyes and blinking rapidly. Regulus, small and skinny in the soft light, stands at the entrance.

A flood of relief sweeps through James, as it always does when he sees Regulus after a long period of time. Despite how tense things may be between them, the sight of him eases a bundle of anxiety James didn’t know he was carrying. “Reg,” he murmurs, and moves to the edge of the bed cautiously. 

“You were sleeping,” Regulus says, clearing his throat when the words come out as a whisper. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“No, I slept long enough. Don’t worry. I’d rather be awake with you, anyway.” He doesn’t understand why those words seem to make Regulus so miserable. 

“Right. I- right.” Regulus runs a hand through his hair and James is overcome with the need to hug him. He starts rising off the bed before- 

“Where’s the potions table?”

He pauses. Glances around. Sucks in a breath. Because Regulus is right. Where the potions bench used to be, where it was just before he fell asleep, there’s now a blank space punctuated by a shag carpet. “Oh,” he says after a moment, and sinks back on to the bed. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I. Oh.” He rubs his eyes, squeezing them shut. “We don’t need one anymore. The room knows that, I guess.”

“Why wouldn’t we- what about your fathers potions?”

James gives an awkward laugh that doesn’t really come out very humorous at all. “Ah. Yeah. I told him to stop taking them.”

Regulus's gaze snaps to his, eyes blazing. “What?”

James shakes his head, ignoring the vast amount of feeling rising up his throat. “No, well. I told him it was his choice. And obviously, since he was so resistant the first time, he decided to… stop all together.” He looks away then, the sting behind his eyes too much to face. The wall suddenly becomes very interesting as he tries to push past the knot in his throat. “It always was his choice. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have forced him.”

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, gentle and soothing as it slips over his bicep and back up, rubbing comforting patterns into his skin. Regulus, who’d somehow silently slipped up behind him in bed, softly brushes the hair away from his eyes and readjusts his glasses. James shudders under his touch as Regulus wraps his arms around him from behind, pulling him into the gentlest of hugs. 

And James- 

James breaks.

He turns with a small whimper, engulfing Regulus in his arms and burying his head in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of parchment and rain. “I missed you,” he murmurs, voice clogged and choked with emotion.

Regulus takes a shuddering breath and presses a feather-light kiss to the top of his head. “I missed you too.” A hand settles in his hair as Regulus exhales. “I’m sorry about your father, James. I… I really wish we could’ve saved him.”

“We did,” James mumbles. “For a minute there, we did.”

“I’m glad we got that minute then,” Regulus hums. “Even if it didn’t last.”

James pulls back, and sees it in Regulus’s eyes. The sadness. Regulus opens his mouth, studying James’s face. After a second, he closes it, and some of James’s fear dissipates. Instead Regulus reaches out and cups his face with the two gentlest hands James has ever known. Pulling him in, he kisses him long and soft, lips brushing against his just so. 

James leans into it, pressing his body against Regulus’s torso. He settles a hand on his waist, another arm looping around his back to pull him closer. 

Regulus hums against his lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against James’s. “I’m proud of you,” he says gently. “For letting him go. For letting him make his own choice, even if it hurts.”

The words cut something deep inside James and he flushes, dipping his head to bury his face in the crook between Regulus’s neck and shoulder. “I really thought I could save him,” he mumbles. There are tears hesitating on his lashes, he knows. 

“Some people can’t be saved.” Regulus says after a moment. “Some people don’t want to be.” 

James really doesn’t like the sound of that. 

Before he can stop himself, he presses a light kiss to Regulus’s neck. Then another. Then another. He’s just so warm and smooth and he tastes so sweet, he can’t help it. 

Soon enough Regulus’s breath starts to hitch and he buries his hand in James’s hair. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.” James murmurs against his skin. “I missed you. And I… I don’t want to think anymore.”

Regulus tilts his head, granting James more access. “...alright,” he murmurs after a moment. “Me neither. Continue, then.”

James leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses up Regulus neck, below his ear, across his cheek to his mouth. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and licks inside, swallowing Regulus’s soft sound. Here, in their bed, with Regulus's warm body firmly tucked in his arms, is where he’s meant to be. He’s certain. 

Regulus leans back against the bed, pulling James down with him. James goes willingly, settling his body between Regulus’s legs, pressed against his chest. He’s so soft.

Regulus studies him with those glittering eyes, brows drawing together slightly. “James, mon soleil,” he whispers, and something about this feels different to James. Sadder. 

“Don’t,” he murmurs back, and leans down to capture Regulus’s lips before he can speak again. 

Regulus’s nimble fingers find the edge of his shirt, sliding beneath it and running over the bare muscles of James’s torso. James knows what he wants and obliges, pulling his shirt up and off.

He makes no move to do the same for Regulus.

Regulus reaches up and removes James’s glasses, leaning over to set them on the bedside table. He runs a thumb under James’s eye, smiling softly. James rests his forehead against Regulus’s, until they’re close enough to share a breath. 

He keeps his eyes locked on his face as he slowly starts to slide his hand down between their bodies. When Regulus’s lashes flutter on his cheeks as his lips part, James is sure it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

 

---

 

Regulus has been watching James sleep for the last twenty minutes, lost in thought. 

He too had drifted off, head nestled on James’s shoulder. But then he’d blinked awake and extracted himself carefully, deciding if he had to stay there any longer he’d never find the courage to do what he has to. 

He settled himself on the couch instead, knees tucked up to his chest and head resting on his palm as he stared at James’s sleeping face. His chest rises and falls, messy curls spilling across his forehead. 

Merlin, Regulus is going to miss him. 

Regulus swallows. The tears he’s been holding back for the better part of two days threaten to fall, and he can’t have that. He wipes his eyes frantically, taking a shuddering breath. He can do this. He’s a Black, and the heir of Slytherin. He is not afraid. 

But maybe… 

Maybe he’ll just wait till James wakes up. Maybe he’ll let him rest a little longer.

As much as he knows losing Monty will hurt James, a selfish part of him is a little relieved. He was worried about the potions complicating things. Of course he wouldn’t stop brewing them but it’d be… difficult, after. At least now, the decision has been made for him. 

Besides, this will be better for everyone. Fleamont’s illness was born from a death eater attack- keeping the Potters away from the Blacks seems to be the safest course of action for all involved. 

“Reg?”

Regulus closes his eyes, not looking at the bed. Go back to sleep, he wants to beg, because he isn’t ready. He’ll never be ready. 

“Come back to bed,” James mumbles sleepily. “Why ar’you all the way over there?”

Regulus still doesn’t look at him, staring blankly at the ground. He says nothing, unable to find the words.

He hears James sit up, sheets rustling. “Regulus?”

Regulus does look at him then, trying not to let the tears hesitating on his lashes spill. He watches as James takes in his expression and reevaluates, straightening in bed. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

Regulus swallows harshly. He thinks about the way James’s name sounded on the Dark Lord’s lips, venomous and full of hate. A target. “We need to talk.”

James’s entire body stiffens, staring at him with those eyes. “No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“And you think now’s a good time? When I’m still naked and warm in our bed?”

The word our strikes Regulus in the core, igniting a fresh ache. “Put on a shirt, then. It- It has to be now.”

“Reg-” There’s a hint of panic lacing James’s tone as he grabs his trousers and shirt, slipping them on quickly and pushing back the covers. 

“We need to talk,” Regulus says again, ignoring the way every heartbeat feels like pressing on a bruise. 

“I-”

“We can't keep doing this.”

"Doing what?"

Regulus just tips his head, staring at him imploringly. "This." 

James doesn’t move for a long second, hovering at the edge of the bed as he stares. Regulus watches with bated breath, silently begging James to give in, to accept it, to stay safe. James blinks at him, lips parting. “...No.”

Regulus’s heart sinks. “James.”

“No. You don’t get to fucking do this.”

“You have to listen to me-”

“No I don’t.”

“He said your name, James. The Dark Lord put a target on your back because of me .”

James shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he grabs his glasses from the bedside table. “I don’t care.”

Regulus gestures in frustration. “You don’t get it. You’re in danger now, James. Every important Death Eater has been instructed to bring you in if they-”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

Regulus rises off the couch, an inch away from begging. “Please. Please don’t make me do this to you. Please let me keep you out of this. It never should’ve gotten this far. You were never supposed to be brought into this. If I wasn’t such a liability-”

“You’re not a liability. I love you.”

Regulus lets out a choked noise, pressing his face into his hands. Why doesn’t he understand? “James, Jamie, please. You have to go. We have to stop this. I can’t watch you get hurt because of me. I won’t.”

James crosses to him, gaze just as stubborn as always. “But you want this, don’t you? You want me?”

Regulus drags in a shaky breath. “That doesn’t matter. Fucking listen to me. You’re going to get hurt- because of me. They’re going to find you. He’s going to find you. And if you end up cold and dead somewhere because I couldn't control my heart, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. You have to go. This has to end.” He’s frantic now, desperation bleeding off him in waves. 

“That’s so unbelievably hypocritical-”

“I can take it. You can’t.”

James narrows his eyes. “How-”

“I’m used to it. I’m used to them. You’re not. You wouldn’t last one minute under Bella’s wand. That’s why-”

“It’s not up to you,” James says, eyes piercing and direct. “You don’t get to make this decision.”

And really, he’s left Regulus no choice. 

In his defense, he tried.

“James,” he says, voice breaking. 

He reaches for his sleeve, fingers closing around the edge of the fabric. 

Suddenly there's a hand on his forearm, grip tight and bruising, holding his sleeve down. Regulus looks up in surprise, meeting James’s wide and desperate eyes. “Don’t,” He whispers. “Please. Don’t.”

“You know,” Regulus murmurs, and James nods. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out, sending Regulus’s last hope crashing down around his feet. “I know.”

Regulus feels himself go weak, gasping for breath. Because- because he thought James would hate him for this. Because he thought he’d curse him and send him away, disgusted by the sight of him. Because if that didn’t work, what else is there? “How long?” 

“Long enough for it not to make a difference.” James says, not moving his hand from Regulus’s arm.

“But-”

“Why did you get the mark, Reg?”

“...I wanted it.”

“No. Be honest.”

“They would’ve killed me.”

James nods. “I don’t care what they’ve made you do. I know- I know you aren’t one of them. I know you don’t think like that. I know you’re different. I don’t care about this.” he squeezes Regulus’s wrist gently. “I don’t care about what you’ve had to do. I care about you. I need to keep you safe. I need to be there. I can’t- Regulus, you can’t ask me to-”

“I’m a bloody Death Eater,” Regulus hisses, terror gradually filling him up. He needs James to listen, needs James to understand. “I represent everything you hate. I’ve hurt people. I’ve tortured them. I’ve done awful things, horrible things-”

“No,” James starts, shaking his head. 

“You remember the Basilisk? You met her once.” Every inch of his body is burning now, twin flames of self loathing and desperation. “I cut her fangs from her mouth. One by one, till there were none left. I used the knife my mother gave me.”

James’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back, finally letting go of his wrist. “Reg.”

“And you know why I did it?” Regulus spits. “Because the Dark Lord asked me to. Because he’d kill Sirius if I didn’t. I spent a year gaining her trust, befriending her, and then I- I-” He shudders, words breaking apart. His shoulders are shaking, he realizes. “And Harold. That time I went missing, I was helping the Dark Lord torture an innocent man. I crucioed him, till he was screaming, till he was begging for death, and I-” He can’t speak anymore, can only breathe, wrapping his arms around himself as tight as possible. “I-”

Suddenly large hands rest on his arms, pulling him carefully to the ground. He goes willing, nothing in him strong enough to resist. He hates this, hates the lack of air in his lungs, hates that this is the most broken he’s ever been and it’s in front of James fucking Potter. James pulls him in, running a soothing hand in circles on his back.

“It’s alright, love,” he murmurs in that stupid, stupid, god-awful voice. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Regulus can only gasp, short and desperate. “Why can’t you just hate me?”

James chuckles, low and soft. “I don’t think that's possible. We've all made mistakes. God knows I've made my fair share. Those things you did? You had to do them. You were protecting Sirius, or yourself. You had no choice. You think I don’t see that? You think I don’t understand? I’m so sorry that you ever had to make those decisions. I’m so fucking sorry.”

"But-"

"Do you support blood supremacy? Do you believe all muggles should die?"

Regulus closes his eyes. "Will you believe me if I say yes?"

James smiles. "Nah. Not really." He reaches out to wipe a tear from Regulus's cheek. "You're a good person, love."

And that is just so blatantly untrue that Regulus almost wants to laugh. 

“He’s going to hurt you. Your tie to me is going to get you killed. I’m going to get you killed.”

James hums. “If it means I can keep you near me, I’ll walk into your dagger forever.” He looks down. "I don't care what happens to me. I need to keep you safe. I can't do that if I'm not allowed to look at you."

Regulus pulls back slowly, a dark sort of despair starting to creep over him from every angle. It’s hopelessness, he realizes after a second. That’s what's consuming him. Endless, desolate, hopelessness. “He’s going to kill you,” he whispers again, and means it.

Because his occlumency may be good, but it can’t hold forever. It already broke once, and such a small slip up led to James being singled out as a target. He can’t imagine what will happen when Bellatrix finds a way through his defenses. If- or, when- Voldemort discovers their connection… Regulus shudders at the thought. He’d use James as leverage, the second he got a chance. Or, worse, eliminate him as a threat. He’d go after all the Potters, Euphemia and Fleamont included. No one would be safe. And if he got a chance to look into James’s head, he’d find thousands of other names and places that would all become instant targets.

Remus.

Dorcas.

Sirius.

How stupidly selfish he’d been to ever fall in love with James Potter. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He breathes, barely realizing he said the words out loud. He’d laid himself bare for James, showed him all his ugliest parts. The mark, the things he’s done… 

And James had stayed anyway. 

So what was he supposed to do?

“Find Evans,” he murmurs, looking up. “Find Evans and settle down with her, start a family and stay away from this war.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“She’s pretty enough, isn’t she? Smart, too.”

James smiles. “Yes. She’s very pretty. And smart.” 

Regulus nods, because yes. That’s it. The words don’t hurt. They don’t slice into some jealous part of himself he never knew he had. Really, they don’t. “Yes. Exactly. You and her, James. You belong together.”

“No,” James says softly, reaching out to brush Regulus’s hair behind his ear. “That would never work. Lily’s lovely. But I want you, Reg. I want you in a way I never wanted her.”

“Don’t,” Regulus whispers, the last of his options going down the drain. 

“Also, I’m never going to stop pushing. You have to know that. I’m joining the Order as soon as they’ll let me, and I’m fighting for Dumbledore.”

“They’ll kill you.” He pulls back, staring at James, voice as genuine as he can make it. "You are going to die. You are going to die." 

James shrugs. “Then I die for a noble cause. There are worse fates.”

Regulus feels himself crack. “For once, would you stop being such a bloody Gryffindor and think about everyone you’d leave behind? So many people- so many people love you so much, James. You can’t just throw your life away like it means nothing. You can’t. It’s not fair.”

“They’ll survive."

"Really?" Regulus spits. "Would they? Because I don't know your mother, but burying both a husband and a son can't be easy."

James flinches back, and Regulus pushes forward. "You know what, maybe it's for the best. If you're so willing to let your father die, maybe you should share his grave."

James sucks in a sharp breath, hands drawing away from Regulus's arm. 

Good. 

"Sirius and Lupin will be better off. Remus won't have to keep your secrets and Sirius won't to worry about a best friend who occasionally fucks his little brother behind his back." 

James's eyes, somehow, soften. He lets out a soft breath, smiling gently. "This isn't going to work, love." 

Regulus can't say anything, out of ideas and completely devastated. 

I’m going to fight,” James persists. “For you. To keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. You can say you don’t want this, you can push me away, but I’ll always love you. I’ll always find my way to you.”

“You promised,” Regulus whispers, voice catching. “You promised you wouldn’t try to save me.”

James gives him a sad smile. “I told you I was a good liar.”

Regulus stares at him for a long time, taking slow and even breaths. What else is there to do? What hasn’t he already tried? There has to be something. He refuses to give up.

He won’t let James die for him. 

He won’t. 

But what can he do? He’s clean out of options. He’s tried everything, save-

Wait.

No.

It’s insane.

It’s awful. 

But James is so, so stubborn. 

And Regulus is so, so desperate.

Besides, being close to Regulus, that's no life. All that brings is pain. Regulus needs to set him free. He deserves to be free. He deserves to find a girl and a house and a life free from the burden of guilt and the sense of responsibility that comes alongside loving Regulus. 

He should’ve thought this through. Of course James would follow him anywhere. Of course he wouldn’t let him go so easily. James Potter loves with his whole heart, and once he’s got his claws in you he never lets go. Not really. Not voluntarily. 

Still, this idea? It's cruel. Cruel and punishing but maybe the only option he has left. 

Regulus looks down, one hand sneaking into his back pocket, tucked into his robes where James can’t see. He has to do it, he supposes. It’s the only option he has left. Besides, if he sits here thinking about it any longer he'll change his mind. “I've been miserable my whole life.” he says, meeting James’s eyes. “The only time I'm not is when I’m with you. You make everything brighter, James Potter, and you deserve so much better than me.”

James shakes his head. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”

“I love you,” Regulus whispers, needing him to hear it. Needing him to understand. “I will always love you. Ever since I boarded that train, you've been the only one for me. I tried hating you, for so long, because of Sirius. Because I thought you stole him from me. But-" He laughs, choked and soft. "I understand. I'd leave it all for you too, if I could. He had the chance I never did, but if I was in his shoes, I'd make the same exact choice. You're worth everything."

"What are you doing?" James asks cautiously. 

Regulus shrugs, wiping a tear from his cheek and giving him a sad smile. "Saying things I should've said a lot earlier. I just need you to know. I hope you find someone who can give you everything you deserve."

James shakes his head. "Regulus-"

"I figured- I figured I was Icarus, in the story. I thought I was going to fall because I couldn’t get out of this labyrinth. But you- risking it all for me- I can’t give you wings, James. I can’t even let you build them yourself. Watching them melt would destroy me.”

James’s chocolate eyes flick up to meet his and Regulus takes the time to lean in and press a long lingering kiss to his lips. It’s soft and gentle, warm and perfect. Final. “You’re the love of my life,” He says, and means every word. 

James doesn’t notice the wand Regulus has pressed to his temple until it’s too late.

When he finally catches on, his eyes go wide with understanding, face draining of color. “Reg, wai-”

“Obliviate.”

 

Notes:

Ok ok before you get mad:

- I promise this is not the end of Jegulus, obviously. Just wait. I promise this is gonna be good. (remember that James and Regulus aren't the only ones who knew about their relationship...)
- consider the angst potential?? please??
- the way I see it, regulus would rather James forget their relationship than get hurt because he loves him. This is the only option he could think of
- I'm a tad nervous about how this chapter will be received but I swear its worth it

Also sorry this took so long! oops!

James: yeah I just told my dad he can die if he wants so I'm feeling really sad rn
Reg: oh man yeah that sucks
James:
Reg:
Reg: I think we should break up

Chapter 50: Alone

Once, last year, Saskia had brought up James herself. It was rare, then, for her to start that type of conversation. 

The boy you brought down here. Your boy. Does he like me?

Regulus, perched on the chair near Salazar's desk, gave her a surprised look. Do you want him to?

I don’t care much either way. His opinion is insignificant to me. But he reminds me so much of… him. 

Of Godric, you mean. 

She hissed, tongue flicking. Yes. Godric. 

James… doesn’t understand you, I think. He knows you exist, obviously, but he’s never brought you up. I think it’s easier to pretend as if he never met you, for the sake of normalcy. Regulus tipped his head back to stare at the dusty ceiling. And I let him. 

The Basilisk hissed. You don’t want him near this side of you. 

What side of me?

The Slytherin side. The side that lets you keep secrets and take on missions. The side that lets you talk to snakes.

Regulus shivered a bit then, unused to being confronted with internal thoughts so brazenly. I guess I don’t. He shouldn’t know me like that. He shouldn’t… see me like that.

And will you get the mark? The Basilisk asked softly.

Regulus glanced at her, surprised. You know about the mark?

The boy talked about a lot of things. Marking his followers was one of his proudest ideas. 

I don’t have it. 

But will you?

Regulus felt that ugly mix of anxiety and hopelessness rise within him, threatening to tear him open. I don’t know. Probably. 

And what will James think then?

He’ll… be disgusted, Regulus managed eventually. It's nothing he hadn’t thought over thousands of times. He’ll leave.

So what is this then? If you know it’ll end, what’s the point?

Regulus shrugged, looking down at his hands in his lap. Sometimes, Saskia almost seemed to know exactly which questions would hurt the most. I… I can have him, now. Even if I only have him in parts, and he only sees half of me. The burden- the pain- of losing him eventually will be worth it, since right now, he’s mine. 

Should you potentially consider his side of the story? The Basilisk hissed. 

What?

Does he know you intend to get the mark?

No.

Exactly. He doesn’t know this relationship will end, but you do. How is that fair, then, to string him along and build something you know won’t stand? 

But- Regulus leaned forward, pressing his hands into his eyes. But I’m not… he wouldn’t want to know.

The Basilisk turned her head. He wouldn’t want to spare his emotions? One person only has so many, you know. 

That’s not fair, Regulus mumbled. I don’t… I can’t tell him. 

Can’t?

I don’t want to.

If you’re being selfish, Little Prince, that’s fine. Just know that is what this is- there’s no use disguising it as caring for his feelings. Saskia hissed. You want him close, you want him to stay yours as long as you can, and that’s alright. But do not pretend you’re doing this for his sake.  

It’s fine, Regulus whispered. It’ll be fine. I just need to keep him away from this side of my life. Away from my family and Voldemort- then he’ll be fine. Then everything will work out. 

The Basilisk makes a sound suspiciously close to a hum. You don’t think he’ll find out? You don’t think he’ll discover that part of you as well?

Regulus shook his head. I wouldn’t let him.

From what you’ve told me, he sounds stubborn. 

And? 

You think after he’s put his mind to it, you could keep him from loving all of you?

He won’t, Regulus choked. He would never. It would go against everything he stands for.

Even then, he'd been so naive. 

 

---

 

James slumps forward in his seat, resting his head against the cool wood of his desk. McGonagall was droning on and he was so tired. He’d felt sluggish all day, head throbbing and limbs barely cooperating. He wonders if he’s coming down with something. 

Next to him, Marlene elbows him carefully. “Are you ok?”

James blinks at her, rubbing his eyes. “Ah- I’m- no, I’m fine.” His head gives another pang and he winces, rubbing his forehead. “Just- just a headache.”

“Do you want a potion or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, staring down at his hands. “I just need to sleep it off.” 

“Do you have any, then?”

He looks up. “What?”

“Sleeping draughts?”

“I…” There’s something muddy and sluggish crawling behind his eyes, intertwining with his thoughts and dragging them down. “Why would I need those?”

Marlene gives him an odd look. “You haven’t been able to sleep without them since… for a while. I thought you had insomnia?”

He… does. Or he thought he did. When was the last time he got a full night’s sleep? “That’s a good idea,” he says. “I should try sleeping potions. I didn’t think of that.”

Marlene furrows her brow. “What? No, I-”

“Ms. McKinnon. Mr. Potter. Kindly focus on the lesson.”

Marlene shoots him one last weird look and refocuses, flipping through her parchment and resting her cheek in her palm. 

James glances down at his book, trying and failing to read on the words. He spends the rest of the class dissociated, staring at the pages and wondering if he could skip Quidditch practice later in favor of a nap. 

When the bell rings he packs up and starts to walk, keeping his eyes trained on his feet. What’s wrong with him today? Why does he feel so… distracted? Why can’t he get his thoughts in the right order? The stone underneath his feet turns rhythmic with each step. He looks up and grabs the handle to the Come and Go room, pushing it open and-

And-

What-

He-

James stares at his hand on the handle of a door he’s never seen before in his life. Where is he? Why is he here? The muddy feeling returns tenfold and he grips the handle tighter, trying to keep himself upright through a wave of dizziness.

He recognizes the hallway, he notices. Obviously. He just didn't know there was a door here. He doesn’t know-

He can’t-

Why is he here?

Frowning he releases the handle and steps back, racking his brain for an explanation. He was looking for someone, right? Marlene said something about sleeping potions, and- 

Oh. Obviously. He’s an idiot. He was looking for Slughorn. He must’ve gotten lost. In his defense, he wasn’t really paying attention where he was going. He must’ve taken a wrong turn. And as far as the door goes… when he glances at the wall again it’s blank. Oh well. The castle plays tricks on him all the time. He should definitely add this to the map when he gets a chance. 

He turns around and walks away slowly, paying careful attention to the turns he takes.

He really is tired. 

 

---

 

Remus settles down on his bed, leaning back on his elbows and watching Sirius shut the door with a half-lidded gaze. “Missed you today,” he murmurs and greedily drinks in the sight of the faint blush crawling up Sirius’s cheeks. 

“I missed you too. You should’ve watched our Quidditch practice.” He crosses the room slowly, crawling across the bed till he hovers over Remus, staring down at him. 

Remus tilts his head, settling his hands on his waist. “As good as you look on a broom, some of us have to actually study.”

“Yeah, but I was so lonely.”

“You had Prongs.”

“Nah, he skipped again today. I think he’s getting sick.”

“Hm.” Remus frowns but ignores it, instead leaning up to kiss Sirius lightly. “I'll watch your next one.”

“You better.”

Remus goes in for another kiss then pauses, biting his lip. Now, he supposes, is as good a time as any. “Hey- can we… talk?”

Sirius freezes, staring down at him with wide eyes. “Did I do something-”

“No! Merlin, no. You’re fine.” Remus chuckles and rolls him over till they’re laying on their sides and staring at each other. “I just… thought we should talk about this.”

Sirius’s eyes flit down, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “Talk about what?”

“This. Us. I don’t know. We’ve been snogging and hooking up for a few weeks, but I thought-”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, that’s not right.” Remus laughs. “I am more than happy with the snogging.” It’s only everything he’s ever wanted, he thinks but doesn’t say. “But we should talk about what we are.”

Sirius sighs, pretending to roll his eyes. “Ah. So you want a label.”

Remus shifts, grimacing. Maybe he’s pushing it too far. “...Kind of, yeah.”

Sirius frowns. “I… don’t know what to tell you.”

“I mean, or at least- here. Like at Prongs’, we were… more open about it, yeah?”

Sirius nods reluctantly, dark hair brushed over one eye and spilling out over the pillow. “But we know them. The Potters are safe.”

“Right. I agree. And I’m not saying we should be public all the sudden, I just… I don’t know. I want to know how you feel.”

Sirius does look at him then, determined and focused. “I can’t be with you like that. Not now. Not like this. I can’t… show people, yet.”

Remus desperately tries to not let how much that hurts show on his face, but he must not do a great job because Sirius reaches out and cups his cheek. “I’m not saying I don’t want this, obviously. I do. Very much. We just… we can’t be public about it, you know?”

He understands. Of course he does. He just wishes Sirius would understand too. “Your mother. Did she ever find out about you and… your preferences?”

Sirius laughs bitterly. “No. No, but I think she suspected. To be honest, I didn’t find out till you kissed me. Not really. I knew I fancied girls, and I knew blokes were hot, but I hadn’t considered what that really meant. And when I was old enough to grasp that, I just shoved it down. Her and I… we never talked about it. That would make it too real. We did, however, talk about finding me a wife fresh out of Hogwarts.”

“A wife, huh?”

“Yeah, well. Look how that worked out.”

“So,” Remus says, suddenly curious what Sirius will say. “Is Regulus going to find a bride soon, then?”

Sirius’s brows furrow and he looks away, lips tightening slightly. “If she gets her way,” He says softly, and Remus gets the feeling he knows more than he lets on. 

“You don’t… you don’t think he wants one?”

Sirius’s eyes glitter as he looks back up at him, sad and soft. “I think he will do what she asks.”

Remus nods after a moment, studying him carefully. He wonders… “Are you sure it’s too late for him?”

“Too late?”

“To get him out.”

Sirius takes a long breath, pressing his forehead to Remus’s chest. “It would have to be him. He’d have to come to me. I couldn’t… I’ve burned that bridge. He’s burned that bridge.”

Carefully, Remus rests his hand on the back of Sirius’s head, combing his fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t ask him to come with me, that night. I didn’t even offer. I just left.”

Remus’s heart clenches. “He’d just cut your chest open, Pads. I think that's understandable.”

Sirius lets out a long sigh. “No. He didn’t. Orion imperioed him. He had no choice.”

Remus remembers James saying the same thing all those months ago, when he first found out. He can’t believe he’d forgotten about that.

“Oh, shit. Yeah. But he never told you that till recently right? You can’t be blamed.”

“I can be blamed for everything.” Sirius mumbles against him. “I can be blamed for not wanting to go public with you.”

“No, no,” Remus murmurs, pulling him back so he can see his face. “It’s fine. Whenever you're ready and comfortable. Hell, I’m not ready to like, hold hands in the hallways or some shit. That’s- It- It wouldn’t be…” Safe , he thinks, but doesn’t say. They both know it. “I’m just a little pissed at all the girls chasing after you all the time.”

Sirius smirks. “You jealous, Moony?”

Remus ducks his head to kiss him, long and hard. “I just want them to know you’re mine.”

Sirius looks up at him through his lashes, lips twitching. “I just said I didn't want to go public. I never said you couldn’t leave marks.”

Remus is pretty sure the sound that leaves him then is more wolf than human as he leans back down to recapture his lips. 

 

---

 

Remus first notices something is wrong when James suddenly gags at dinner, clapping a hand over his mouth and pushing up from the table. 

“Prongs?” Sirius asks, brows raising. “Something go down the wrong way?”

James shakes his head, gags again, and turns to exit the Great Hall quickly. Remus and Sirius exchange confused glances. 

“Should we go after him?” Remus asks.

“No. If he’s sick he’ll want privacy. He’ll be alright.”

“If you say so.”

Remus finds James doing his homework on the common room couch after dinner. “Prongs?”

James looks up, face brightening at his name. “Yeah?”

“You feeling better? What was that earlier?”

James waves his hand. “Oh, I don’t know. I forgot how much I hate the taste of bread pudding. I got it out of my system.”

“That’s new.” 

James shrugs. “I’m fine now. Sit. You can help me with my runes.”

“Absolutely not,” Remus says, but sits anyway. “Where’d you go all day?”

“I…” James stares at the fire, crinkling his brow. “Just around, I guess.”

“Ah.” Remus smirks. “So how's Regulus, then?”

James cocks his head at him. “What?”

“I assume you were with him. There’s no other reason you’d skip Quidditch two days in a row.”

“Why would I be with Regulus?”

Remus gives him a long look, trying to decipher what bit James’s going for. “Uh… why wouldn’t you be with Regulus?”

“Regulus Black? As in Sirius’s little brother?”

Remus blinks at him. “That’s the one.”

James laughs. “Have you gone mental?”

“Have you?”  

“I don’t-”

“James, lay off it.”

“We’re talking about Regulus Black here? The one we hate? The one that abandoned Sirius and left him cut up?”

Remus, confused, nods. “Technically, yes, but-”

“Why the hell would I skip Quidditch for him?”

James looks genuinely lost, staring at him with his brows furrowed. Remus glares. “James. Come on. Drop it.”

“I’m not doing anything! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Remus stares at him. “What… what are you doing? Regulus. Your Regulus. The one you’ve been in a relationship with for over a year. You were with him, yeah?”

Then something very odd happens.

James’s eyes glaze over, going sort of hazy and unfocused. His hand stills on his quill, every inch of his body going unnaturally still. Slowly he blinks, and when his eyes open again they’re clear. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” he repeats, in the same exact tone as before. 

Every inch of Remus’s body goes cold. 

“James. Be serious. Regulus.”

James winces at the name, almost subconsciously, just a slight tick in the corner of his face. “I… I don’t…” he takes in a shuddering breath, pressing a hand to his forehead. “It’s…”

“Are you ok?”

“My… my head hurts.”

”Why does your head hurt?” 

“I don’t- I… what were we talking about?”

Remus frowns. He’s starting to think there might be something seriously wrong here. “Regulus, James. The guy you’ve been seeing.”

The same thing happens again, James’s eyes glazing over and refocusing a few minutes later. “What were we talking about?” He repeats, in a perfect replica of before. 

If nothing else, it’s plain creepy.

Remus’s heart picks up in his chest, beating furiously. “Ok. It's fine. Don’t worry about it, ok? Why don’t you focus on your runes. I’ve got to… go.”

He stands up before James can reply, running up the stairs to his bedside drawer and fishing out the map. He whispers the words and watches it expand, searching desperately for Regulus’s name. He finds it, eventually, alone in the astronomy tower. 

He runs back down through the common room and past James, out into the hall and up the stairs. He opens the door to the tower, already breathing heavily.

Regulus doesn’t look at him from where he’s curled himself up on a bench, facing away. Remus takes a shuddering breath. “What did you do?”

Regulus’s shoulders cave inwards as he bends forwards slightly. “I thought it’d take you longer.”

“James is being weird. Really weird. He doesn’t- it’s as if- Regulus, what the fuck did you do?”

Regulus looks up at him and Remus notices how bloodshot the whites of his eyes are, even in the darkness. He looks entirely and utterly miserable. It’s potentially the most emotional Remus has ever seen him. “It was the only way. I swear. I- he left me no choice.”

“What-”

Regulus rolls up his sleeve silently, not looking at Remus. The moonlight reflects off the pale skin, illuminating the skull and snake inscribed with black ink. Remus sucks in a breath, taking a step back. The tattoo makes Regulus look so much younger, as if it’s too large for his small frame. “Oh,” Remus mumbles. “Oh.”

“I had no choice,” Regulus whispers. “I thought this would be enough.”

“What do you mean ‘enough’?”

“He was going to get hurt if he stayed with me. The Dark Lord was going to target him. So I had to…” He shakes his head. “I tried to call it off. To get him to leave, for his safety. But-”

“But he refused to go.”

“Even after I showed him this,” Regulus says, lifting his forearm to inspect it. 

“Oh, James,” Remus murmurs, staring at the mark. At first he’s angry that James would sacrifice his ideals so easily. Then he’s just sad, because James has always had more love than fear in his heart, and this is proof. 

Remus crosses to the bench opposite and sinks down, letting out a long breath. “So you showed him the mark, and he still wouldn’t leave.”

“His savior complex,” Regulus mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “He thought- he thought if he stayed he’d be able to keep me safe.”

“But-”

“But he was just going to get himself killed. I know he was. I thought. I thought it’d be better if he never had to make that choice.”

"So..."

"I thought I'd be better if I was never a part of the equation. If one of the variables didn't matter."

“Tell me you didn’t.”

Regulus just stares out across the grounds. “It’s better this way.”

Something dark takes root in Remus’s gut. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. “You wiped his memories?”

“Just- just the ones of me. Of us. I- that’s all.”

And-

Shit. 

Shit.

Remus can’t even wrap his mind around that. “But- I mean- do you even know how to do that? How can you be sure it worked? That's so… risky .”

Regulus shrugs. “I’ve been practicing occlumency. Maybe not liligmency, but I know my way around someone's mind. And if I started small, like certain memories or a specific person…”

“So what, you’re just gone now? In his head?”

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. “If I did it right, yes.”

Remus stares at him blankly. “Without his consent?”

Regulus gives him a look. “No, I asked for his permission before I erased the memories of our relationship.”

Remus runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the ache in his back and legs. It always gets worse near the full moon. “Why wouldn’t he be safe?”

Regulus’s hair glints in the moonlight, face pale and hauntingly beautiful. “The Dark Lord named him as a target. Personally.”

“Why?”

“He saw him in my head.”

Remus closes his eyes. “So. So he really was in danger because of you.”

Regulus’s face breaks and he looks away quickly. “Yeah.

“Why were you that close to the Dark Lord?”

“It was a meeting.”

“You go to the meetings?”

Regulus sighs, leaning his head against the wall next to him. “I have the mark. I go to the meetings.”

“Does James know?” Remus shakes his head. “Did James know?”

Regulus winces, but nods. “Yeah. He’s known for a while.”

“The mark too?”

“Apparently.”

Another twinge of frustration runs through Remus. The fact that James was willing to continually compromise his morals like that shocks him. “What’s to stop me from running to Dumbledore?”

Regulus chuckles ruefully. “He knows too, don’t worry. There’s nothing he can do while I’m still his student.”

A thought occurs to Remus. “Wait. James’s dad. You were making potions, right?”

“I was, but-”

Remus looks up, anger hot as fresh coals. “You’re going to let him die? How’s that keeping James safe? Do you know how much that’s going to fucking destroy him-”

Regulus’s eyes narrow. “Never insinuate I would just let Fleamont die. I may not be a good person, but I’m not evil. He’s chosen to stop taking the potions. They hurt him too much. James agreed and told me to stop making them. I’d never do something like that for my own personal gain. I do very few things for my own gain, actually.”

“He- Monty- what?” Remus stares at him. “He stopped taking them? Voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

Remus sits back, letting out a breath. “James never said anything. He- he never told me. Why didn’t he tell me?”

Regulus shrugs. “I didn’t know he didn’t till now.” 

“That must be killing him. How is he… I mean. He’s holding it together so well. I didn’t think anything was wrong.”

“Of course you didn’t. Of course you didn’t think.”

Remus blinks, taken aback by the bitterness in Regulus’s tone. “That’s-” 

“Have you noticed he hardly sleeps without a potion? Ones that I make him, by the way. You’ll need to find a substitute. Have you asked him how he’s doing recently? Specifically? About watching his dad decide to die, or his worry for you, or the fucking war thats tearing apart his relationships?”

“I-”

“Or the fact that he’s so focused on keeping everyone around him alive that he’s willing to completely disregard his own safety? Or that the one person who he actually let in, who really genuinely wanted him, is suddenly missing from his memories?” Regulus makes a choking sound and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, shuddering. He suddenly looks so small. “I’m so fucking sorry James,” he whispers, voice broken and wobbly. It’s so quiet Remus barely catches it.

Remus’s heart shudders with guilt, shoulders curling defensively. “He never said anything. How was I supposed to know something was wrong?” He regrets the words as soon as they’ve left his mouth, but it’s too late.

Regulus’s eyes flash, cold and angry. Remus sees his hand twitch, as if he’s resisting the urge to go for his wand. “As if you ever bothered to ask. I can’t do this. I can’t- I can’t sit here and listen to you-” 

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you’ve known him longer than I have.” 

And then Regulus does go for his wand, and in a flash he’s standing over Remus, pointing it at his head. “Shut up.”

Remus glares up at him, unfazed. “Don’t pretend like you care about him more than I do.”

“I lov-”

Remus narrows his eyes, confusing feelings boiling over into anger. “Yeah? You love him enough to erase his fucking memories?”

He expects Regulus to curse him. He expects Regulus to lash out, or hit him, or shout.

He doesn’t expect Regulus to drop his wand and stumble back, face utterly and entirely defeated. He sinks onto his bench, leaning back against the wall and wiping a hand over his face. He looks so tired, Remus thinks. He realizes, then, that he’s the only person in the world Regulus can have this conversation with. 

“Why would you…” Remus cuts him off, trying to contend with the information and the guilt Regulus just shoved down his throat. The why would you tell me all this hangs unsaid between them. 

“It should be nothing new,” Regulus says, tone stiff and sad. “You should’ve already known.” He shakes his head. “I can’t… I can’t be there for him anymore. Not that I was ever there in a significant or particularly helpful way. But- but I want you to be aware. So you can help him, or at least talk to him.”

“He’s worried about me?”

Regulus cuts him a look. “He’s worried about everyone, all the bloody time.”

Remus puts his head in his hands, quickly overwhelmed. “Did you really obliviate him?”

Regulus, apparently done with talking, closes his eyes. 

“Can you undo it?”

Regulus says nothing. 

“I- I can’t believe you’d just-”

“I did what I had to do.”

“Couldn’t you have just broken up with him?”

“I told you already,” Regulus sighs. “That didn’t work.”

“What do you mean that didn’t work?”

“...He wasn’t letting me.”

“He wasn’t letting you? What, did he say no?” Remus is being sarcastic but Regulus just looks to the side, pressing his lips together. 

“He said no? And you immediately jumped to wiping his memories?” Remus asks incredulously. 

“Nothing else would’ve worked. He would’ve followed me, or tried to find a way to protect me, and gotten himself hurt.”

Remus gives him a long look, head still reeling. “Wow. You must think very highly of yourself.”

Regulus doesn’t move, just stares out the window. Remus, for the first time, considers that maybe this isn't a good time to attack him. 

“Look. What’s done is done. He doesn’t remember you- I checked. But what do you want me to do? What if he gets confused or something? What should I say?”

“Don’t tell him,” Regulus says sharply, giving him a desperate look. “Please. It’ll make it worse. I imagine it’s difficult- I mean. His mind has to go through and logically fill in all the gaps or he’d literally go insane. He has a lot of vague spaces in his head right now, and I’d think it would hurt or at least disorient him to try and access those. Don’t tell him.”

“So what… when he asks, I lie?”

“Or avoid the question. For his own good.”

“And Sirius? What do I tell him?”

Regulus's eyes widen. “He knows? About me and James?”

“No. But he knows James is- was- seeing someone. He’ll have questions.”

“Just- just tell him we broke up. Tell him James doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“And you think that’ll work?”

Regulus shrugs. “I trust you can come up with something.” 

“Fine. And…”

“What?”

Remus studies him carefully. “Are you ok?”

Regulus stares at him incredulously for a long moment and then laughs, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He stands, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering in the night air. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Lupin.”

Remus watches him as he walks to the door. “I mean… do you… can you tell anyone?”

Regulus’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “What do you think?”

“It- I- it would be good if you had someone you could talk to about this.” 

Regulus levels him with a long look, eyes cold and searching. He speaks softly, gaze dropping to his feet. “I did.” 

Even after he leaves, Remus stays in the astronomy tower for a long time.  

Notes:

I love jegulus because it will always be inherently sad even when they're happy. Wolfstar is fun and comforting and will always be the og but it lacks the hoplessness of jegulus in a way, ykwim?

Sorry this is so late and so short! best of both worlds ig lol. Thank you for all your incredibly entertaining comments on that last one I had so much fun reading every single one of them.
See you next week!!

Chapter 51: Second Beginnings

Notes:

Tw: Panic attack

James, in an eerie moment of deja vu, gets the letter at breakfast. The difference, this time, is that Sirius gets one too.
They exchange glances over the table as they open them slowly, scanning the words with bated breath. 

Dear James, 

I just wanted to give you an update on Monty. He’s declining, though not incredibly rapidly. There’s still time. He’s a lot happier now, and his spirit does seem to be improving. The doctors are not optimistic. He’s still taking their potions, but they aren’t working as well as…

As…

James frowns and narrows his eyes, trying to read the sentence again. He can’t quite make out the end of it- the words just keep going fuzzy and slipping off the page. He decides it’s best to keep moving. 

You should come see him when you get a chance. I’m sure he’d love to talk. Much love,

Mum

He sets the letter down slowly, trying to push through the swell of emotion that’s attempting to drown him. He looks up, locking eyes with Sirius. “Well,” he manages, clearing his throat. “I- um. We should probably visit him soon.”

Sirius wipes his eyes quickly and nods, biting his lip. “I. Fuck.”

“Hey,” Remus mutters, nudging Sirius’s shoulder. “You’ll see him for easter.” 

James watches them, something heavy settling in his chest. “Yeah,” He offers, and both Sirius and Remus look up at him. “And after Easter, there’s summer break. Don’t worry about it, Pads. He’s strong.”

“But he’s not gonna be, is he? These past few months he’s been holding it together, but just barely. What’s going to happen when he stops taking the only potions that have been working?”

James takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. We’ll see. But he’s still gonna be him, you know?” It’s not true, he knows. Monty will get tired eventually. Too tired to speak or eat. His eyes will glaze over, and by the time he goes, he won't be much more than a husk. 

He also knows that Sirius can’t hear that right now.

“I wish there was something we could do. This- watching him go so slowly- it’s torture.”

James nods, running a hand over his face. Everything in him aches, a hurt that begs to be ripped out of him. He just has no idea how to get his claws in deep enough. “Those special potions he was taking worked for a while,” He says eventually. “I wish… I wish they didn’t hurt.”

“We should talk to the doctors,” Sirius says. “We could try and figure out a brew with less side-effects.”

James nods, closing his eyes. He suddenly wants to see his dad, everything in him itching to run to him. He wonders if McGonagall would let him go through the floo. He wonders if it would matter.

But-

But there’s a sort of unfailable hope burning somewhere deep within him. There has to be a way, right? James can’t just… watch his father die. He understands the potion was hurting him, he understands that’s no longer feasible, but there has to be another option. Just giving up goes against everything he stands for. 

Find a brew with less side effects, Sirius had said. 

James stands up from the table, tucking the letter in his pocket. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll see you later.”

Then he’s gone.

 

---

 

Regulus can’t breathe.

Well, he can, but only slightly. Gentle gasps of air that barely fill his lungs. He can’t remember the last time he took a full breath. 

It’s been days, at least. 

Ever since- 

Then. 

Sometimes he starts awake in the middle of the night, rolling over and gasping for air as he coughs. He hasn’t been breathing in his dreams, either. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before. Crucio’s are one thing, the ultimate agony, each spell specifically designed to cause the most pain possible. But crucios fade. The feeling in Regulus’s chest, he’s sure, never will. 

It’s fine, he tells himself as he picks at his meals and does his homework. It’s fine. This is normal. It’s normal not to taste his food or hear his surroundings, focusing only on his schedule and the walks between classes. It’s normal to feel like every last hint of light has been sucked out of you, leaving only a dry and rotten crust of what you used to be. 

It’s normal. 

It’s fine.

…Well. 

It’s not fine. 

But it’s bearable.

Because it has to be bearable. 

Because he has no choice. 

He thinks Evan and Barty might notice. They don’t say anything, of course, too consumed by their own issues to invest themselves in his. It wouldn’t matter anyway- Regulus would shut them down instantly. Dorcas would notice, if she were still around. He’s sure of it. He sees her sometimes, passing in the halls or in the dorm late at night. They catch eyes, both pausing slightly. There’s never any malice in their gaze, nearly the opposite, a gentle caring and an acknowledgement that they bear no hard feelings. Recently she’s been staring at him a little longer than she needs to. He wonders if she can see it in his eyes. 

Pandora, to her credit, not only notices something’s wrong with him but acts on it, grabbing his arm one day after class and dragging him through the halls. She doesn’t stop till the get to the roof, only letting go once she’s sure Regulus is following her and won’t fall to his death. 

They sit down on the tiles, leaning up against the wall of the Gryffindor tower. He takes as deep a breath his lungs will allow and closes his eyes, appreciating the cool night breeze. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Pandora says. “I’ve missed you.”

He opens one eye, focusing on her. “Yeah. Things have gotten… busy.”

“How are Barty and Evan?”

“Did you hear about what happened on the train?”

She shakes her head and Regulus nods. “Barty’s dad was going to send him back to school imperioed. We had to break him out.”

She frowns, brows pinching. “Shit. But he’s ok now?”

“Ok as you can be, I guess. I’m pretty sure he and Evan spend their time planning assassination attempts on his father.”

She tips her head. “Fair, I suppose. And you?”

“Me?”

“How are you?”

He stares at her before looking away quickly, examining the tile at his feet. “Fine.”

She doesn’t say anything, just watching him. 

“Really,” he says when she stays quiet. “Really. I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking, Reg.”

He looks down at his legs, and shit. She’s right. “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he mumbles. 

“Do you remember a while ago, when you came over to my house at break? It was last year. You had been given that task from the Dark Lord, the one you really didn’t want to do.”

It’s the first time she’d brought it up since. He nods, refusing to look at her.

She hums gently. “You did it, didn’t you? You went through with it.”

He takes another breath. It’s still not deep enough. “I… I did what I had to do.”

“I believe you. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Something you can’t tell me.”

He bites his lip and ducks his head, unable to speak. She reaches out in the dark and pulls his head down till it’s resting on her shoulder. Gently, ever so gently, she starts to card through his hair. He closes his eyes and lets himself melt into the touch, focusing on the feeling of her fingers on his scalp. 

“I’m so sick of hurting people,” he whispers, ashamed as soon as the words leave his mouth. They sound immature and childish, almost too raw for him to stomach. 

“Mmm,” Pandora hums. “Well. If it’s any consolation, you’ve never hurt me, Regulus Black.”

“Give it time,” he murmurs, relaxing further into the warm body next to him. “I will.”

“That almost sounds like a threat.”

“At this point, it might as well be.”

“Yeah? And what would you have me do?” 

“Stay away from me.”

She chuckles next to him, the sound cutting through the winter cold. “I don’t think that’s going to work out.”

He turns his face into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” 

Pandora’s fingers still in his hair, pausing for a moment before continuing their path. “I guess you’re just too likeable.”

“Likeable? Really?”

She smiles into the night. “Loveable, then. Is that better?”

He can’t even begin to respond to that. The hand not running through his hair grabs his wrist, squeezing lightly. 

“Stay still,” she says. “Stop shaking. You’re scaring me.”

He keeps his eyes closed. “It’s just cold.”

She waves her wand and a warmth settles down onto them, a private bubble of air that he relaxes into. She goes quiet for a moment, and when she finally speaks, it’s barely a whisper against the night. “I need to know that whatever this is, you’ll get through it.”

Regulus opens his eyes in shock, staring out into the darkness. Not for the first time, he imagines what it would be like to drown himself in it. He could slip away from her grasp, slide down the slippery tiles of the roof and off the edge, into that unceasing black. The pain he carries in every inch of his body, the disgusting feeling the Dark Lord implanted in his stomach, the fucking guilt that targets every nerve, would be gone. Dissipated into the night. 

Almost subconsciously, Regulus’s fingers on Pandora’s arm loosen as he stares at the edge of the roof. 

If he did it, he’d never see the Basilisk again. He’d never watch James settle down and find his happiness. He’d never get to see the look in the Dark Lord’s eyes as he died. He’d never get to enjoy the realization that it was Regulus who’d killed him.  

He wonders if James would sit up in bed, heart pounding and head spinning with memories, suddenly free from the magic that repressed them. 

He’d be the first to know. 

And really, Regulus could never do that to him. Plus, he never wanted to die. Not then, not now. Why would he, when he still has the stars above him and Pandora's hand in his hair? 

Besides-

“There’s no point,” He says eventually. “I did the things I did, I carry the shit I carry, for a reason. It would be a waste. If I can’t see it through, everything would be wasted.”

Pandora lets out a soft, placated sound. "Good." She continues combing through his hair after a moment and he closes his eyes again, relaxing into her shoulder. “Did it have something to do with Sirius?”

“No. Not this time.”

“So last time, then? The thing you were going to run away from?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

The morning after Sirius had left out the window, Walburga had stormed into the room in an angry and violent flurry. Regulus had curled himself up on Sirius’s bed, too exhausted to make it back to his room, eyes shooting open as Walburga threw the door open. She glanced around, eyes wild and dangerous. “Where is he?” She hissed as Regulus scrambled to get out of bed. “I can’t find him anywhere. Where is he?”

He was still in his clothes from the night before, sleeves covered in blood. He didn’t speak as she tore around Sirius’s room, slamming open drawers and scattering belongings as if she’d find him under the papers on his desk. She stopped at the window, no doubt noticing the twin handprints stained in blood on the sill. 

He sucked in a shaky breath as she slowly looked up, eyes landing on him. “Where is he?” she hissed again, cold and menacing. 

He swallowed, looking around him quickly. The previous night started to filter through in flashes of memory, snippets of information that made his heart clench and stomach drop. “I- I don’t-”

“Do not lie to me!” Suddenly Walburga was right in front of him, yanking his arm out from behind his back. The blood on his sleeves was all too damning. 

Orion threw open the door, storming in violently. “I’ve searched the house. He’s not to be found.”

Walburga released Regulus’s arm, running a hand over the hair rapidly coming out of her bun. “Kreature!”

With a pop the house elf appeared at her feet. “Yes, Mistress?”

“Sirius. What happened?”

Kreature, in all his innocence, looked cautiously to Regulus. Walburga clocked it instantly. “...Master Regulus-”

Her wand was out in a second, pointing at Regulus.  “Where. Is. He?”

Reglus choked on his words, everything in him protesting. Tell her, a little voice inside him whispered. Tell her and let him suffer the consequences of his actions. He doesn’t want to trust you? Fine. Don’t be trustworthy. Prove him right. 

“I don’t know.” He said instead. 

They found out, of course. Later, after sending Kreature to the Potters. When he came back empty handed, they gave up. They still had Regulus, after all, and he’d always been better behaved. He’d make the perfect heir, they decided. It would be such a waste to track down a son that would never comply if the one they had in front of them was perfectly, if not more, suited for the job. 

And he’d do whatever they asked, wouldn’t he? 

Play their instruments, brew their potions, bow to the right man. Maim the right snake. Take the right mark. 

He had his own rebellions, of course. Keeping some of Saskia’s fangs, for example. Healing Fleamont. Protecting his brother at every opportunity.

Falling in love with James Potter. 

“Sirius doesn’t know a lot of things.” Regulus says to Pandora slowly.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“No.” He remembers the night in the astronomy tower. “Yes. I don’t know. He shuts me down and then we both just get angry.”

“Not angry enough to stop doing things for him, right?” Pandora shifts slightly, leaning over to give him a look.

Regulus sighs, the ache in his chest pressing in from every angle. “He’s done a lot for me, over the years. We’re tied, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” 

“So this isn’t about him, then?”

“...No.”

Her eyes skim over his face. “It’s tearing you apart, Regulus.”

He wants to ask what she’s talking about. Betraying Saskia? Taking the Mark? Torturing Herold? Or-

Or maybe she means repressing all the memories James had of him and erasing their entire relationship. 

He takes another breath, sitting up and pushing away from Pandora. He needs space to breathe. Her touch suddenly turns burning, suffocating. He needs- 

He-

He needs-

He needs James. 

And for the first time in a long time, he can’t have him.  

He shudders and curls in on himself, lungs constricting. Pandora says something to him but he can’t hear past the rushing in his ears. He needs James.

He needs his warmth, needs his soft hands and soothing words. He needs the way he makes everything okay, the way he cups Regulus’s face and kisses him like he’s the only thing in the world worth touching. Worth knowing. 

Regulus has only felt deserving of love when it was James Potter doing the loving. 

And now James is gone. 

And everything they built, every emotion they’ve cultivated, went right along with him. 

He can’t breathe. Honestly, he actually can’t breathe, because James took his breath the second his eyes glazed over and expression went slack. He took his breath the moment he stood up slowly and walked out of the Come and Go room, not once looking back. He took his breath when they passed in the halls and he refused to meet Regulus’s eyes, instead keeping his gaze focused straight ahead, as if Regulus was just a background character. As if he didn’t matter. As if he was nothing.

And without James, he might as well be. 

He digs his nails into the palms of his hands, shaking. His heartbeat is loud, so loud, ricocheting

around his ears and threatening to rip straight through his chest. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, trying to suck in air and bending over to wrap his arms around his stomach.

“Reg-” Pandora leans over him, eyes wide and glittering against the night. 

He shakes his head and pushes up from the ground quickly, stumbling and grabbing on to the wall for support. He can’t take this, can’t take her smothering attention- as if she actually cares about him, as if his wellbeing actually matters to her.

The only person who cares about him can’t remember the first time they kissed. 

He takes a shaky step and then another, making his way towards the stairs carefully. Pandora is still talking behind him but he can’t focus on the words. 

He gets down the stairs, walking through the halls slowly, trying to focus on his breath. He’s fine. This is normal. He just needs to breathe in, out. In and out. That’s all. 

His mother would be so disappointed if she could see him now. 

Weak. That's what he is. Weak. What happened to shoving his emotions down? What happened to going unfeeling, unthinking, mindless and cunning?

Somewhere along the way he must have let his emotions outgrow their confines. 

In and out.

That’s all. 

He turns the corner, still staring at his feet. In and out. 

In and-

“Regulus?”

---

 

James watches as Regulus looks up sharply, eyes wide. For some reason, the younger boy has pressed himself up against the wall, on hand bracing himself against the stone. He looks smaller than James remembers him- more slight. Gaunt.

“Regulus.” He says again, when he doesn’t answer. 

“Potter.”

James suppresses the flash of irritation at the undertone in his voice, rolling his eyes. “Can we drop the formalities? I need to talk to you.”

Regulus raises one perfect brow. “No, we can’t. And no, you don’t.”

James narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yes, I do. Just five minutes. Ok?”

“No.”

And really, must he insist on being so difficult? “Reg-”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Yeah, sure, but I have things to say to you, so-”

“Are you going to let this go?”

“No.”

“Is this about my brother?” 

At that, James’s stomach constricts in guilt. “...No. He doesn’t know I’m talking to you, actually.”

Regulus stares at him, irises glittering. Something turns in James’s chest- something he elects to ignore. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thanks. I- thanks. Come with me?”

Regulus nods, just a slight dip of his chin, eyes not leaving James’s face. He’s like a cat, James thinks. Easy to startle. Easy to scare away. 

They walk in silence for a long time, turning corners and making their way down the stairs. James sneaks glances at Regulus on occasion, marveling at the emotionless expression on his face. It’s the first time they’ve talked- really talked- in a long time. He can’t remember… sometime before Sirius left, surely. Since then it’s only been passing insults in the halls and glares shot across the Great Hall. 

He finds the nearest broom closet and opens the door, stepping back to let Regulus through. Instead, Regulus just stops and stares at him. “Really, Potter? A broom closet?”

“Yeah. You got an issue with that, your highness? We could go outside, but it’s so cold and-”

“Fine.” Regulus pushes past him into the darkness. He lights his wand and turns, watching as James steps in and closes the door behind him. “Talk.”

“Right. So.” James takes a shuddering breath and runs a hand through his hair, shifting on his feet. “Uh- well. Um. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my dad’s sick.” He looks up cautiously. 

Regulus’s lips part on a silent inhale as he stares at him, eyes softening. There’s something there, something held in the lines of his mouth, that James can’t quite read. James clears his throat and continues. “You’ve probably heard. It’s not- it’s not a secret, or anything.”

Regulus nods after a moment, eyes never leaving James’s. “I heard.” 

“Right. So. I just. I was wondering-” He lets out a frustrated huff, unable to force the words out. “It’s a lot to ask. I know it is. But I just- look. You’re one of the best potions students in the school. I talked to Slughorn. And Lily’s good, she’s really good, but she isn’t you, you know? And Slughorn says you’re the best, so…” He shakes his head. “I was just wondering if you’d help me find a cure.” he says finally.

Regulus, surprisingly, doesn’t react to the request. Just stares at him. “Me.”

“Yes, you. I… please, Regulus. Please. I can’t- I can’t…” There’s something in his throat and he swallows, swiping at his eyes quickly. He needs to remember to breathe. “I can’t just watch him go. There has to be a potion, one with less side effects, that we can find-”

Regulus still isn’t saying anything, and it’s starting to freak James out. “Please. Just consider it. I know we don’t get along. I know you and I are on different sides of this war. I know. But he’s my dad, you know? Sirius’s too, if that helps. And I really-”

“James.”

And-

Shit.

As soon as his name leaves Regulus’s lips James gets hit with a wave of dizziness, sending him stumbling back into the wall behind him. Fuck. Fuck. The muddy feeling from before comes back with a vengeance, pressing behind his temple and turning his thoughts to sludge. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe through it, burying his face in his hands. What’s happening to him?

Why-

He doesn’t-

He can’t- 

“Potter. Potter. Are you listening to me?” Regulus is talking to him, and the chill in his voice helps ground James. He focuses on it, that anger, that hate, and uses it to pull him back to the surface. Slowly the mud drowning his thoughts start to retreat and he’s left with a slight ache in the back of his head, one he can easily ignore. 

 “Yeah.” James chokes, focusing back in on Regulus’s face. For a moment, he thinks there’s a hint of concern hiding behind his eyes, but then it’s gone in a flash. “Yeah. I’m here. Sorry- I don’t know what that was. Just dizzy, I guess. I probably should’ve eaten lunch.”

“You didn’t eat lunch?”

“Just wasn’t hungry, I guess. Anyway. My father. Will you help me?”

Regulus shakes his head and James’s stomach sinks. “No one can do what you’re asking.” He says. “No one. I’m sorry your father’s sick, but what makes you think we can manage what the best doctors in the world have failed to do?”

James splays his hands. “I think we can try.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Reg, please-”

Regulus’s eyes flick up to meet his, dark and searching. “No, Potter. It won't work. We- I- It won’t work. You have to trust me.”

“But…”

“My mother told me your father was getting better for a while. Why was that?”

James rubs his forehead. “He… the doctors were trying a new cure and it was working.”

“Why did it stop, then?”

“It didn’t. But he was too weak to use magic and the potion’s side effects were too much for him to handle. He chose to stop taking them.”

Regulus nods. “Right. Exactly. That’s my point. He chose to stop taking them. Voluntarily . He doesn’t want any more potions.”

“But-”

“But you can’t change fate, Potter. If he refuses, he refuses. It’s obvious-” he pauses, reconsiders. “It’s unlikely he’ll make it through this. Behind all your false optimism I know you’re smart enough to realize that. Dragon Pox is deadly. A cure can stabilize him, maybe, but there’s nothing that can save him. We- the doctors - tried that. They reduced the effects, but, in turn, gave him more.” 

“I have to hope.” James whispers, chest cracking. “I can’t… I can’t just stand by. I can’t just watch.”

“But he won’t let you do anything but watch.” Regulus says. “You have no choice here. I can’t help you. The doctors can’t help you. Something worked. One thing worked. One cure. And he chose to stop taking it. There’s nowhere to go from here.”

“Fuck you,” James spits, anger and frustration boiling over inside him. How dare he? How dare he stand there and talk about him, about his father, as if he knows -

“Potter-” Regulus reaches out and catches his wrist, meeting his gaze. “I’m not- look. Talk to him, why don’t you? Ask him if he’ll take another potion. It’s him you need to convince. Not me.” His fingers burn where they press into James’s skin. 

“But-”

“No buts. I won’t do it.”

James is desperate now. “You can’t be sure it won’t work. You have no way of knowing-” 

“I have every way of knowing.”

“Please.” James's voice cracks. “You’re my only hope.”

Regulus looks up at him, eyes glittering. “That’s the thing, Potter. I don’t think there's any hope left anymore.”

 

---

 

James doesn’t say anything else after that, face falling and closing off as he turns on his heel and walks away. Regulus watches him go, slumping against the back wall. 

He shouldn’t have been so harsh. 

He shouldn't have.

But. 

But he’s certain if he spent one more second staring at the ardent hope in James’s eyes he would’ve folded and given him whatever he wanted. 

Anything, always. 

He’d been so stupid. Of course James would seek him out again. Of course he’d follow the same thought trail and come to the same conclusion. 

He drops his head and takes a shaky breath, dismayed when his lips inevitably twitch into a soft smile. 

Despite everything, it was nice to see James. 

Nice to feel his warmth and scent. 

Whatever the context.

It was nice. 

He shakes his head at his pesky weakness, shoving that thought down. Maybe it’ll be okay, he thinks. Maybe, if he can keep James in his life, if he can still see him around, he’ll be alright. 

Maybe that’s all he needs.

 

---

 

James plops down next to Sirius on the Quidditch stands, sighing and watching gloomily as the Hufflepuff team do loops around the pitch. “About what I said earlier. Nevermind.” He mutters and Sirius spares him a glance. 

“That idea you had this morning didn’t come through, then?”

“Nope.”

“Hm.”

“And your brother’s an asshole.”

Sirius shrugs. “It’s true.”

They sit in silence for a moment. James breaks it. “I suppose we’re due for a prank then, aren’t we?”

Sirius lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, ‘suppose so.”

“The staircases then?” 

Sirius nods, watching as a Hufflepuff dangles off his broom before pulling himself up. “We can do that easily.”

“Tonight?”

“Why not.”

“So…”

“So?”

James smirks, glancing over at him. “You and Moony. How’s that going?”

Sirius instantly blushes pink, pale skin flushing all the way down his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm.”

“We’ve just gotten… close, recently.”

“Really close. Reallllyy close. Like so close your lips and tongues are like fully-”

Sirius hits him on the arm, looking away. He can’t help but grin, James notices. “...Yeah. Yeah, about that close.” He cuts his eyes to James, smirking. “And then some.”

“Ew. I don’t need the gory details.”

“You’re the one that brought up tongues!” Sirius stands, stretching his arms over his head and looking down at him. “It’s… good. We’re good.”

“You aren’t telling anyone though,” James half-asks, rising as well. 

“No.” Sirius shrugs. “Just you and Wormtail. For now.”

“And Moony’s okay with that?”

Sirius tips his head. “Who's to say? That’s just… what we can do right now.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, and Prongs?” 

James looks up as he picks his way down the stands towards the ground. “Mm?”

“Moony told me about you and your mystery lover. I’m really sorry, mate. That’s rough.”

James just stares at him. “What?”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it. I know how you get with stuff like that. I just thought you should know that I'm sorry and all that.” Sirius leans over and claps him on the shoulder. “More room for Lily, eh?”

James blinks, narrowing his eyes at him. “I- what? Also- I told you. I’m over Lily. I wasn’t just… putting her on hold for a minute. She deserves better than that.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, I’m-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sirius grins and sticks out his tongue at him, jumping the fence at the edge of the stands and looking up at him. “Come on, then. We’ll be late for lunch.”

They make their way through the halls, chatting quietly. James runs a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna win. Easy.”

“Yeah, but have you seen the Slytherin Beaters this year? They’re vicious.”

“They’re always vicious. We can just… kill em with kindness.”

“Kindness? Really?”

“No, we’ll kick their slippery asses.”

Sirius smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

James shoulder checks Sirius as he passes. “If I get to the Great Hall first I get to sit next to Moony.”

Sirius laughs and runs after him. “Like hell, Potter!”

 

---

 

Turns out it’s not that hard to rig all the staircases and they’re done before 10pm, reconvening in front of the main one. 

“Well,” Remus says, dusting off his hands. “How much shit are we gonna get for this?”

“Nothing if they can’t prove it’s us,” James shrugs. 

“A bunch if they can and people actually get hurt.” Pete intones, giving the staircase in front of them a worried look.

“No one’s going to get hurt. Well. Not seriously." James waves a hand. “It’s fine.” 

Dorcas and Marlene round the corner and laugh when they see them, walking over slowly. “The stairs, huh?” Marlene raises her brows. “A little counter-productive.”

Pete cracks a grin. “Only if you want to get to class on time. What are you two doing out?”

Dorcas shrugs, combing a hand through her braids. “Just on a walk.”

“Ah, so-”

“Dorcas?”

James watches as Dorcas goes stiff, face falling. They look up at the same time, finding a certain group of Slytherins at the top of the stairs, evidently just having rounded the corner. Crouch leans on the railing, eyes sharp and focused on Dorcas. 

“So it’s true. You’re really going around with this lot then.”

Regulus is slightly behind Barty, his usual disinterested expression all James can focus on. He tries to catch his eye but Regulus looks down, studying his fingers. 

“Hi, Barty.” Dorcas rolls her eyes. “And I can go around with who I please, thanks.”

“Hardly see you around the common room anymore. It’s like you’ve forgotten which house you’re in.”

Dorcas tips her head. “No, I’m very much still a Slytherin. Just not one of your types.”

“Don’t you have better things to do, Crouch?” Sirius steps forward, raising his brows lazily. 

“Nah. Annoying you is much more fun.”

“And you, Reg?” Sirius cocks his head, ever willing to egg his brother on.“Got anything to say?”

“I,” Regulus says, looking up coolly. “Would much rather be in bed. This is entirely pointless.”

When James glances at Dorcas, he finds her already watching him. He cocks his head at her, a silent question, but she just looks away.

Barty ignores Regulus. “Dorcas, it’s not too late. We can chalk this up to a big misunderstanding and you can go back to spending time with the right type of people.”

“I’m good where I am, thanks.”

“Come on Crouch, leave her alone, yeah?” Remus rolls his eyes. “Let's all just get to bed.”

Rosier frowns, coming up to stand next to Crouch. “Oh, so now you’re deciding who we talk to?”

“I’m just saying-”

“And we, believe it or not, weren’t speaking to you, Lupin. Some things are about other people, ok?”

“Oh, piss off.”

And then Crouch takes a step forward, and shit gets messy. 

As soon as his foot connects with the step the stairs under the three of them go smooth, the tiles retreating to form one long slide. Crouch lets out a surprised cry as the three of them slip, skidding down the stone. Sirius laughs and ducks out of the way. Crouch careens into Peter, knocking them both over.

James moves to duck aside before his legs are swept out from under him. He goes down hard, catching himself with his hands and knees on the stone of the floor. There’s something soft under his chest, he realizes. Something that cushioned his fall. 

Regulus stares at him, already half propped up on his elbows with one knee drawn. And James, effectively straddling him, suddenly can’t think.

He can’t do anything, actually, because he can feel the rise and fall of Regulus’s chest where their torsos meet and somehow that single point of contact has rendered him entirely useless.

Regulus's lips are parted, grey eyes wide and lashes fluttering. He isn’t moving, cheeks dusted pink. James can feel his breath on his face. They’re so close. So close. So fucking close. 

It feels-

Right. 

Familiar. 

Good. 

And then reality crashes in and James has the good sense to roll off him, shoving away slightly. He remembers their earlier conversation, how angry he’d been, how much of a complete ass Regulus had made of himself.  

So why can’t he get his heart under control? 

He stumbles to his feet, resisting the urge to help Regulus up as well. The other boy pulls himself upright a second later, staring at James with wide eyes.

James swallows, holding his gaze.

“The staircase?” Barty spits. “Really?”

Sirius shrugs, watching with amusement as Evan picks himself off the floor. “We did what we had to do. Hope you enjoyed the ride.”

“Fuck you, Blac-”

“Students? Awake at this hour?” There are footsteps starting to round the corner, the unmistakable rattle of Filch’s breath sending all of them scattering instantly. 

James ignores the look Remus has been sending him since the Slytherins fell and takes off, feet pounding against the floor underneath him. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit-

No. It’s fine. Nothing happened. It doesn’t matter.

So why does it still feel like his heart is going to implode in his chest?

Fuck, James thinks as he runs.

Sirius’s little brother might be hot. 

Notes:

Sorry for the wait! Even if not a lot happens in this chapter I have a soft spot for it. Thought I'd give you a little interpersonal drama and take a break from the actual plot lol. I'm really excited about this storyline
I'm having so much fun with Regulus going through an emo break up phase that he brought upon himself
Also side note I promise it will be less angsty and such. Kind of. Whatever. This is just a bit of a low point for many characters

Chapter 52: Freckles and Marks

Notes:

tw: dub con? Maybe? no one is forced into anything and everyone is a willing participant

“The Birdmans have invited us to their annual Easter Gala.” Effie tucks the letter back in its envelope and looks up at Sirius and Remus, smiling. “We can bring you two, of course.”

Remus looks at Sirius nervously, clearing his throat. “I… uh. I’m not very experienced with high-end events.” 

James shakes his head. “It’s not like that, mate. Well. Sort of. But it’s fine. The adults dance and talk and the kids are pretty much left alone to do whatever. It’s fun. And there’s free food and drink.”

Sirius nods. “And don’t worry about the dress-robes- I think Monty should have some you can borrow. Effie, when is it?”

“Tomorrow night. Should I write back and say I’m bringing two extra?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mum.” James smiles, leaning back against the couch. “As long as you don’t make us dance.”

“Oh, I’m certain none of you know how.”

“Excuse you! Some of us are actually educated.” Sirius intones.

Remus gives him an incredulous look. “You can ballroom dance?”

Sirius shrugs. “I guess there are some perks to growing up in a Sacred 28 house. Free dance lessons included. 

“No shit.”

“Here- up you get. I’ll teach you. It’s not that hard, really.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Up! Up!” Sirius grabs Remus’s arm and yanks him off the couch, ignoring his protests and leading him to the middle of the room. Effie walks over and takes a seat next to James, eyes glittering with faint amusement. 

Sirius lifts Remus’s arm. “Ok. Put your hand here. No, here. Good. And then I do this and we…” 

Sirius brings himself close to Remus’s chest and off they go. It’s awkward, at first. Stilted and blocky, their feet mismatched and ungraceful. Sirius isn’t that great of a teacher, kicking Remus’s feet into the right places instead of just telling him what he’s doing wrong. 

But, eventually, they get it. Remus learns where to step without being guided and Sirius starts adapting to his mistakes and movements. He coos soft praises and leans in, resting his head on Remus’s chest. 

James is certain he’s never seen Remus’s face turn that particular shade of red before. 

Effie chuckles next to him and then she’s up too, pulling James after her. “Come on. I have to make sure you’re not out of practice.”

“Mum.” he complains, but lets her drag him next to Sirius and Remus. He, to no one’s surprise, is definitely out of practice. His muscle memory kicks in after a minute and he figures it out, swaying with his mother and turning her in what he hopes are the correct directions. A wave of her scent hits him and suddenly he’s sucker punched by a wave of longing so strong he instinctively tightens his grip on her arms.

He’s missed her, he realizes. 

Badly. 

Horribly. 

He’s been so focused on his worry for his father he’d let himself forget, at least a little, about his mother. 

After a moment she pulls back and elbows Sirius. “You boys should sort out what to wear tomorrow. James, maybe you should go ask your father for some robes for Remus?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Come on, Moony.”

 

---

James grabs a flute of champagne from a waiter and plops down at their small table, taking a sip and scanning the scene. The Gala is exactly what he expected, a dance floor in the middle with live music to the side. At one end of the hall there’s a large table with small sandwiches and drinks, surrounded by small children desperate to sneak a treat. 

“This place is insane,” Remus murmurs, craning his neck to look up at the high ceiling. “I mean, did you see that chandelier?”

James shrugs. “Not how I’d personally choose to spend my money, but you know. To each their own.”

“There must be thirty bedrooms here. What a waste.”

Sirius winks. “Not if you make good use out of them.”

“Pervert.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Remus glances around. “And you two are… used to this?”

James winces. “Eh- yeah. Kind of.”

Sirius runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “This is small, compared to the things my parents dragged us to. I only see, like, one ice sculpture here.” 

“There’s a chocolate fountain, though.”

“True. Shall we sample?”

James rises, setting his empty champagne flute down and mock-bowing, gesturing Sirius forward. “After you, sir.”

The three of them make their way over to the table, picking at the sandwiches and fruit. Sirius attempts to demonstrate the magical fountain that spews any type of chocolate you want and James busies himself with a single strawberry.

“Hi,” a smooth voice says behind him. James turns, slightly surprised. The boy in front of him has dark red hair and a smattering of light freckles. He’s also incredibly good looking. 

“Hi,” James says back, blinking. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

The other boy shrugs, smiling lightly. “I’m here every year. And I was one or two grades above you at Hogwarts, if that helps.” 

“Oh, Fabian, right? Fabian Prewett?”

Fabian smiles. “I’m shocked you remember me.” 

James shakes his head, grinning. “How could I forget? You were on the quidditch team. Quite good, if my memory serves.”

“High praise from the captain himself,” Fabian says, leaning up against the table next to him. “I hear things are going well. No doubt a result of your excellent leadership?”

James shrugs. “What can I say? It’s a good team.”

“Maybe you’re just a good captain.”

And that was definitely flirty, wasn’t it? Maybe it’s a challenge, a light poke easily denied if James doesn’t reciprocate. Testing the waters, so to speak. Shit, now James is blushing. Great. He’s usually a lot slicker than this. He flashes his smoothest grin. “I learned from the best.“

Fabian smirks, and it feels like victory. “So, James, how’s your 8th year going?”

James shrugs. “Eh. You know. Final exams are a bitch.”

Fabian nods, dark eyes finding James’s. “You’re smart. I trust you’ll manage.”

Shit, he’s good. James really needs to catch up. He knows how to flirt with girls- turning on the charm is so incredibly easy it often works too well. But guys… he only recently realized he likes blokes as well, and he has no idea what to do with that. Then again, he gets the sense neither of them are here to build a meaningful emotional connection. 

"I'm ready to be done," he says eventually. "It gets a bit tedious."

Fabian shrugs. "Oh, you'll miss it. I know I do."

"I'm sure you could come visit. The team would love it. You could show them what real talent looks like."

"They have plenty of that right here." Fabian says, nodding to James. He winks. 

“Enjoying the party?” James asks, bracing himself on the table and learning in a bit. 

“More now,” Fabian says, then winces, slightly bashful. Turns out his blush mixes with his freckles nicely. James finds he likes the sight very much. “Ah. That was a bit…”

“Nah, it’s alright,” James says, tilting his head slightly. He’s suddenly aware that Sirius and Remus are nowhere to be found. “I get what you mean. A little boring, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. Not very interesting when there’s nothing to… do.”

Then their eyes meet, and that’s that. 

 

---

 

Fabian pushes James through the first door they find, lips already locked. James brings his hand up to thread through Fabian's hair, moving them back to the bed. He’s strong and firm underneath him, large hands maneuvering James till they’re rolling over on the mattress. He tugs at his tie, pulling it off so his dress robes slip down over his shoulder.  

“Shit,” Fabian hisses as James ducks down to kiss his neck. “You’re so good at that.”

James smiles against his skin, moving back up to capture his lips. “Your turn.”

Fabian grins and dips his head, sucking a dark mark into James’s skin. “You’re sure your friends won’t miss you?”

“Oh, they’re probably doing the same thing somewhere else.”

Fabian hums, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Interesting.”

Fabian pushes James back on the bed, licking into his mouth and moving to straddle his hips, sliding a hand under the hem of James’s shirt. 

It’s nice, James thinks, losing yourself in another person. Fabian is all warmth and soft skin, lips and fingers smoothing over the unrest of the past year. James doesn’t have to think like this. There’s no pressure here. 

Then Fabian’s fingers skim over his skin and-

Suddenly James can’t breathe, Fabian’s touch turning rotten and burning against him. It’s not right, something in his mind screams. None of this is right. He doesn’t want Fabian, doesn’t want his hands or his smooth fingers. No one gets to touch James like that. No one. No one except-

James moves off Fabian, turning his head to the side and taking deep gulps of air. Fabian instantly rolls away, giving him space. “James? Hey- did I do something wrong?”

James waves a hand, sitting up. “No- it’s fine. You’re fine. I just- I just needed a breather.”

What was he thinking?

Fabian is hot, and into him, and there’s no reason not to go for it. He’d been feeling fine- better than fine, really- just a second ago. What changed?

He’s not sure. 

“I’m fine.” James says again, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just- just come here.”

Fabian studies him for a moment before leaning in carefully, cupping James’s cheek. He smooths his thumb over his skin and James has to actively force himself to not pull away. This isn’t what he’s here for. That look in Fabian’s eyes, that soft and gentle emotion, makes his skin crawl with disgust. It isn’t right. 

But Fabian’s really, really good looking.

And there’s no reason James shouldn’t want this. 

So. 

James shoves forward, pushing Fabian back onto the bed and knocking his hand away from his face. He kisses him hard, slipping his tongue into his mouth and straddling his hips. He pulls his shirt up and off, ignoring the way his stomach turns at the feel of Fabian’s hands on his waist. 

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Fabian whispers, and James lets out a low groan, wishing he’d shut up.

“Don’t talk,” he murmurs, and captures his lips again. 

His kiss is rough and deep, nearly bruising in nature. James wishes it was softer, gentler. He wishes the body under him was slighter, with curls he could bury his hands in instead of straight short strands. He pushes that thought away, confused and aching with something he can’t quite name. He wonders if he’s had too much champagne. 

Fabian takes hold of his waist and rolls him over, smiling when James can’t help but shudder under him.

It’s fine, James thinks. Get yourself under fucking control.  

After, as Fabian lays panting on the bed with his dress robes falling open, James rises quickly. He finds his shirt, yanking it down over his head as he lets the warm post-orgasm glow calm his heart rate. He glances back to the bed, grinning when he sees Fabian’s blissed out expression. “I- ah. I don’t want to be rude, but I should go find my friends.”

Fabian watches him, eyes twinkling. “Go for it.”

James winks. “I hope I made the party a bit more interesting.”

Fabian huffs out a laugh. “You certainly did. Merlin. Maybe I’ll see you at the next one?”

James shrugs, smirking. “If you’re lucky. I’ve still got a quidditch championship to win.”

“I have faith. I’ll celebrate with you after.”

“Bye, Fabian.”

“Bye James.” Fabian gives him a small little wave. “It was nice catching up.”

James finds Sirius and Remus back at the table, waiting for him. Effie’s nowhere to be found, probably still talking with her friends somewhere near the music. It’s alright, she’s told them they can leave without her. Sirius whistles when James sits down, bumping his shoulder. “Did you have fun, Prongs?”

James smiles, leaning back in his chair and surveying the dance floor. “Something like that.”

“God,” Sirius fake-groans, pulling James’s collar down to observe the marks on his neck. “Can’t take you anywhere, can we?”

“Oh, like you can talk. I don’t even wanna know what you two get up to in our dorm.”

Sirius laughs, but when James looks to Remus he finds him studying him with an indiscernible expression. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I- nothing. Should we head out? James, do you need to say goodbye to Fabian?”

“Nah, already did. It’s fine. I’d like to go home.”

Sirius stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Off we go, then.”

He leads them to the door, stepping out just as Remus catches James’s arm. James looks up, confused. “Are you ok?” Remus murmurs, eyes soft and searching. 

“I’m fine,” James says instinctually. “Just… just a bit of a headache.”

“Come on. Both of you.” Sirius snaps, and they scamper down to grab on to his arm as he disapperates. 

They land in front of Potter manor, all groaning. 

“Pads,” James complains. “You’ve got to get better at that.”

“I just learned! And we’re in the right spot!”

“Yeah,” Remus comments drily. “But I feel like my stomach was just ripped out and put back wrong. I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that.”

“Of course it is!”

Still bickering, the two of them head inside. 

James watches them go, letting the door close before he sags into himself, grabbing the garden fence post for support. He takes a deep breath, then another. 

James swallows and looks up at the stars, trying to pick out as many constellations as he can. It’s calming, a little. There’s some cosmic familiarity to them, as if the knowledge of their consistency and permanence almost helps ground him.  

He thinks about his night, about the champagne and the dancing and the laughter. He thinks about Fabian’s touch and kiss, slipping over his skin. He tries to remember how good it felt to be held. He had fun with Fabian. He did, genuinely. Once he pushed past the stuffy emotions and sickening thoughts he let himself relax into the physicality of it all. It was nice to let his mind go quiet for a bit. 

So why does he feel so fucking guilty?

 

---

 

“Legilimens.” 

Regulus stays standing, this time. His legs are trembling, maybe, but he’s upright, and his head barely hurts anymore. He feels, for once, a strange sense of calm. He shoves Bella out as soon as she tries, pushing her magic back instantly. He glares at her, chest rising and falling. 

“You’re getting good.” She hums, circling him. He turns with her, watching, ready. 

“Is there a point to this?”

“Is there a point to training you? I’d say yes.”

Regulus grits his teeth. “I’ve trained. I’m trained.”

“He might be right, Bella.” Narcissa, leaning against the wall of the courtyard, gives her sister a cool look. The dusk casts a shadowy glow over her blond hair. “He’s getting good.”

Bella looks back at Regulus, eyes intense. “Mm. Maybe. He folded pretty easily under the Dark Lord’s spell the other day, if memory serves.”

“That’s the Dark Lord. Do you mean to compare your skills to his?”

Bellatrix squints at her sister, unhappy. “Of course not. But-”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I-”

“Legilimens!”

To her credit, it takes him by surprise. He stumbles back as her magic shoves through his defenses, quick as anything. It doesn’t take long to throw up his mental walls, locking the door and drowning his thoughts. She pulls back with a hiss, frowning. 

Narcissa laughs lightly. “Maybe it’s time to let it go, Bella.”

He tucks his hair behind his ears. It’s getting long again. “I’m done. I’m going inside to practice violin.”

“Brat,” Bella hisses, but surprisingly lets him go. 

He makes it to the door before Kreature appears, looking nervous. “Master Regulus, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Pandora?”

“...No, sir. Crouch. And Rosier, Kreature thinks. At the door.”

Regulus groans, running a hand through his hair. “Did they say what they want?”

Kreature shifts, tugging at his pillowcase. “Something about a… concert, Master?”

“Oh, fuck them. Fine.” Regulus makes his way to the door and yanks it open, already scowling. “What?”

“Reggie!” Barty jumps up from where he’s been sitting on the stoop, Evan leaning against the wall. “We’re here to take you away.”

“You need to start learning the art of letter writing,” Regulus intones. “It would be helpful, sometimes, to know when you’re coming.”

“We’re here now! The Hungry Horntails are playing at the London Wizarding Hall. We’re going.”

“We’re not.”

Evan pushes off the wall. “I guess, if you wanted to, you could stay here sulking all night with your house-elf.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “Don’t bring Kreature into this.”

“Just tell your mother you’re making a personal call. We’ll get you back before midnight. And, hey- last time we did this I seem to remember you having some fun.”

Regulus raises his brows. “Susan made it fun, not you idiots.”

“Still don’t know who Susan is,” Evan mutters to himself as Barty waves his hand.

“Come on. We’ll let you take the tube?”

And, well.

Regulus does like the tube. 

“Fine. But I’m getting changed.”

The tube turns out to be crowded, forcing Regulus, Evan, and Barty to huddle together in the middle. “This is ridiculous,” Barty mutters. “Honestly. When we can apparate.”

Regulus leans into the sway of the train, staring at the map on the wall and ignoring his friend. It’s so handy, he thinks, to have the streets all laid out like that in neat little lines. Muggles have to pick a destination, map a route, figure out times and logistics. Wizards just have to envision the exact spot they want to appear. He imagines, because of that, muggles must have a better understanding of the city. He’s sort of jealous, in an odd way. 

The LWH is mostly underground. The cavern is huge, its towering ceilings hanging with stalactites. The stage at the end has been carved from the stone, the name “Hungry Horntails” temporarily etched into the front. 

He recognizes a lot of his classmates dispersed throughout the cavern. The band is just about done setting up by the time they get there, giving them enough time to worm their way up to the front of the crowd before the first note blasts out. 

The Hungry Horntails are… fine. Passable, as far as wizard rock goes. The bass is loud and the drums are louder, quieting any unnecessary thoughts in Regulus’s head. It’s better than the stifling quiet of Grimmauld Place. He sways to the music, glancing over at Barty and Evan on occasion. Evan, slightly taller, has his elbow resting on Barty’s shoulder. It’s the closest they’ll get to public affection. 

Regulus finds himself transfixed by the way the guitarist’s fingers move over the strings, dancing and tapping so lightly it made his violin look severe by comparison. He hums to himself, wondering if he’d be any good at guitar. Susan played, he remembers distantly. She thought he didn’t know what a guitar was. For a second he wonders if she’s here, before dismissing that thought as quickly as it arrives. She’s a muggle. This is a wizard venue. She’ll be up top somewhere, having a drink with her friends and flirting with boys, hopefully with a bit more luck than she had with Regulus. 

It’s hot, the large cave walls trapping the crowd’s body heat in. He distantly wonders what it’s like in the summer if this is the level it’s at now. He thinks it’s a little funny- a room full of wizards and they can’t cast enough cooling charms to keep the temperature down. 

He taps Barty’s arm and jerks his head to tell him where he’s going and heads off, ducking through the crowd to the toilets. He pushes the door open and- pauses. 

Shit. 

This was a mistake. 

James Potter looks up from where he’s washing his hands, eyes landing on Regulus instantly. 

Distantly Regulus wonders if there’s time to shut the door and pretend nothing happened. But then James is calling his name and talking to him so, no. There’s not. 

He isn’t sure he can do this. 

“Regulus? What are you doing here?” James’s eyes are wide and fixed on him, tap still running. Regulus summons the last of his courage and closes the door behind him, stepping into the bathroom and moving towards the sink. 

“Same thing you are, Potter.”

“Are you here with someone? Crouch and them?”

Regulus nods, not looking at him. He flicks on the water and turns it to cold, splashing it over his face and neck in an attempt to cool himself down. 

“Listen, this is good actually. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Regulus shuts his eyes briefly. “I should get back to the concert.”

James waves a hand. “They suck anyway. I’ve been thinking. About my father.”

Regulus’s chest clenches painfully. “I thought-”

“Yeah, yeah, you said, but what if we just tried? I know you don’t think it’ll work, but we haven't even given it a go.”

“Because it’s pointless. It’s an incurable disease.”

“To you, maybe.”

Regulus crinkles his nose. “To everyone!”

“I happen to have more faith in you than that.”

“I must not be as good as you think I am.”

James tilts his head. “I highly doubt that.” 

“But-”

“I told you. I talked to Slughorn. He says you’re the best.” 

“So why don’t you ask him, then?”

James scoffs. “He’s a teacher. You’re a student.”

“And?”

“And you can be convinced easier than he can.” 

“Have you forgotten who my family is?” Regulus can feel himself relaxing into this conversation, which is decidedly not a good idea. 

“I’m hoping that maybe, deep down, you aren’t like them.”

Regulus shakes his head, straightening to face him. This is torture. “What makes you think I’d help you either way?”

James shrugs, leaning against the counter with that same crooked grin. “I just get that sense. And all the reasons you’ve given me have been practical, not moral.”

“Well. You’re wrong.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes. I happen to dislike you very much.”

“Mhm. Yet for some reason you’re still here, talking to me.”

Regulus flushes, crossing his arms. “You’ve cornered me.”

James raises a brow. “Have I?” He gestures to all the empty space and room for Regulus to walk around him. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Regulus starts around him but James grabs his arm before he can get too far. Already the touch turns his skin to satin. He turns to look at him but finds James just staring. “What?”

“You… I was gonna say… but-”

“Spit it out.”

James swallows, and Merlin, is he blushing? “You have your hair up.”

Regulus stares at him blankly. “What?”

“Your hair. You… you don’t put it up like that a lot.” 

Regulus glances at himself in the mirror, surprised. Since it’s been getting longer he’s been tying it up in a semi-bun on the back of his head, just to get it out of the way before his mother cuts it again. He hadn’t thought much of it. “Uh… yeah.”

James cocks his head, eyes roving over his face. Regulus shifts under the weight of his gaze, thoroughly confused. “That’s new,” James says eventually. 

“Don’t get too attached, I’m cutting it before school.”

“No- don’t. I like it.”

What the fuck. 

Actually what the fuck. 

Regulus suddenly can’t seem to find his breath, pinned under the heat in James’s eyes. “Potter, I-”

“You’re being unusually nice to me today.” James frowns. “Actually. The other day, in the closet, you were nice then too. Why?”

Shit. 

“You’re right, I should really step it up.”

James stares at him for a long minute, and for some god forsaken reason, takes a step closer. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

“What am I, twelve?”

James smirks. “We both know this isn’t her scene.”

He’s too close. Granted, he’s like two feet away, but that’s still two close. Especially when Regulus can smell his cologne. Regulus grits his teeth. “She knows I’m… out.”

“Oh, a rule breaker.”

“I do plenty of things my mother doesn’t know about.”

James props a hand on the counter. “Yeah? Like what?”

Regulus looks up, damning himself and his weak will. Put up your walls, he thinks. Shut him out. Shut those memories out. 

They aren’t yours anymore.

They hardly even happened. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of a rebel than I thought, Reg.”

Be mean, he thinks. Be cruel. Drive him away. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

Which-

Was not what he meant to say. 

Fuck. 

James’s eyes glint behind his glasses. “Well, for starters, you’re here. At a concert, fairly late at night.”

“Secondly?”

Shut. Up.

“Secondly, you're here. In this bathroom. Still talking to me. Your sworn enemy. Your estranged brother's best friend.”

Regulus needs to leave. He needs to leave right now. He doesn’t trust himself to be here one more second than necessary. “I tried to leave, if you recall. I remember you stopping me.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah? How’d you figure?”

James just stares at him. “You had your hair up.”

Regulus, self-conscious, tucks a loose curl behind his ear. “Fairly certain my brother wears his hair up at least half the week.”

“You aren’t Sirius.”

Be awful.

“Thank god. I’d hate to be that egotistic.”

Not nearly awful enough.

Instead of an angry comment, James just laughs. “He manages it well.”

“And, by the way, this is a two way street. You’re still engaging me in conversation.”

“Well, I have a point to make. And…”

“And?”

“For some reason, you’re easy to talk to. It’s-”

“Painful?”

“-natural.”

Shit, shit, shit-

Now they’re really too close. Honestly. This is getting out of hand. 

“Natural?”

“Mhm.” James scans his face, his brows furrowing. He says nothing for a long moment. “Why aren’t you as cruel as I remember?”

Regulus swallows. “Your memory may need some work, Potter.”

James just keeps watching him. “I’m starting to think you might be right.” He takes a breath, and another step. “Why are you still here, Reg?”

“I-”

Fuck.

Regulus stops. He shuts his mouth firmly. Everything inside him crumbles into dust, heart slicing itself open. He can’t breathe, can’t think past the rushing in his ears. 

Because they’re standing close. Close enough Regulus can feel James’s breath. Close enough he can smell his cologne. Close enough he can see the three small purple marks on James’s neck. 

He takes a step back, then another. “I have no idea.” He says, and there it is. There’s the cruelty he’s been looking for. “Go back to your friends, Potter. And don’t talk to me about your father again. There isn’t anything to be done. One day you’re going to have to accept that clinging on to this false hope you’ve got will do nothing but make the process more painful for the both of you.” 

He ignores the way James’s expression shuts off, face going cold as he takes a step back. His eyes are wide, filled with hurt. Regulus turns around, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Get yourself together, he thinks. This is unacceptable. 

His eyes are already stinging with something he can’t name as he swallows quickly, pushing back through the crowd. The music doesn’t sound good anymore, loud and blaring and harsh against his ears. 

So what if James is hooking up with some mystery lover. So what if he’s already moved on. 

Not already, Regulus thinks. Not already. For James, it’s been a long time. 

For Regulus, it’s been three weeks. 

Fuck. 

The crowd presses in on him as he takes his place next to Barty and Evan, trying to control the shake in his shoulders. Jealousy is no new emotion, and there it is again, sinking its claws into Regulus’s stomach. No one should be able to touch or kiss James like that. No one should be able to feel the skin of his neck against his lips or run their fingers through his hair. 

No one but him. 

But James doesn’t know that. James can’t know that. 

So Regulus ignores the tears in his eyes and stares firmly at the stage. 

You’re supposed to be happy, some small voice in the back of his head says. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for.

And, really. Fuck that. 

Fuck everything. 

Regulus is miserable. 

 

---

 

James grabs the quaffle and tosses it up, letting Sirius swoop through and catch it. Then he ducks into a dive and James steals the ball from him, spiraling across the lawn. 

They’re on practice brooms, of course, but anything faster would probably tear up the Potter’s back lawn. Effie hoots from the ground when Sirius hipchecks James and sends him into a bit of a spiral. He rights himself and winks at his mother and Remus, ducking under Sirius and towards the makeshift goalpost. 

They play for a long time, pitching and diving across the grass. James ignores the ache in his chest in favor of the wind in his hair, the way his world is reduced to diving and ducking. 

When they come down, Effie’s already gone inside. Sirius goes to put the brooms away, accidentally sending everything in the shed crashing down in the process. 

James laughs, grinning, and when he turns around he finds Remus watching him carefully. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just interesting. You’ve looked happier recently.”

“Oh,” James says after a moment, watching Remus go help Sirius with the brooms. 

And he is happy, he thinks. Happier than he’s been in a long time. But this gap in his chest, this absence of something, has been with him just as long. He may be happier, but he isn’t whole.

He can’t seem to remember the last time he was. 

Notes:

Thank you!!! Hopefully if I can figure out this stupid plot things will pick up from here. I just loveeee exploring character dynamics post-obliviate it's such fun.

Chapter 53: The Stone

“My Lord?” 

“Regulus. Enter.”

Regulus pushes the door to his father’s study open, stepping inside silently. He keeps his eyes on the Dark Lord, watchful. Waiting. 

Voldemort smooths his hands over the desk in front of him, dark robes shifting. “I wanted to talk, quickly. Before you go back to school.”

Regulus nods, hesitating by the chair. The Dark Lord nods. “Sit.” He sighs. “How do you like Hogwarts?”

Regulus just stares at him. “Uh- in general?”

“Yes. ‘In general.’”

Regulus ducks his head, slightly confused. He can’t quite tell what answer the Dark Lord’s looking for. “It’s fine, my Lord. May I ask why?”

“Hm.” The Dark Lord rolls a small stone between his fingers, looking him over. “After this year, you won’t be returning.”

Regulus freezes. He can feel his breath coming in short pants. “What?” He clears his throat, remembering himself. “Why not?”

Voldemort shrugs, tucking the stone back in his pocket. “It serves no purpose. I have use for you here, permanently. I can not afford to keep you so far out of my reach.”

“Is this-” Regulus almost caves, almost asks about Harold’s power, but reigns it in. That conversation has never gone well. “For potions?” He finishes instead. 

The Dark Lord stares at him. “In a sense. Yes. Your skills will be useful. Though, you might’ve heard, your classmate Severus Snape intends to help us with those as well.”

“...Snape.”

“Yes.”

Regulus doesn’t pull a face, but it’s a close call. “Very well. And- there’s no way- I’d-” he lets out a soft hum, looking down. “If there’s any way to finish my schooling, my Lord, I think-”

“I’m telling you that you won’t be returning next year. Is there something about that sentiment you aren’t fully understanding?”

“Of course not, my Lord.”

It hurts, though. He thinks of the castle at night in the winter, snow piling up on the turrets, owls shaking off their rustled feathers. Pandora’s smile in the dining hall, eyes glittering as she lifts a mug of pumpkin juice to her lips. The smell of the fire in the common room, crackling away into the evening. 

He’s going to miss the quidditch pitch, the way his heart flips when he first lifts off the ground. 

He’s going to miss his friends. 

He’s going to miss James. 

Voldemort nods. “Good. Good. I need to keep my eye on you. You understand, of course.”

Regulus can do nothing but nod.

“And besides,” The Dark Lord says. “There’s only around two months left, right? I’m sure you can manage to say your goodbyes in that time.”

Regulus presses his lips together. He nods, hands clasped in his lap. 

“And, Regulus, listen to me when I say this.” The Dark Lord narrows his cruel eyes, fixing in on the boy in front of him. “Be careful. Stay out of unnecessary danger. I need you unharmed.”

Some part of Regulus notes the irony of that coming from the same man who sent him to rip the fangs from an actual real life basilisk. Another part of him can’t ignore the spark of confusion at what appears to be concern from the Dark Lord. “I’ll do my best,” Regulus says eventually. “Can I ask… is there another attack planned for Hogwarts?”

Voldemort lets out a low hiss. “If there was, it wouldn’t affect you.”

Regulus takes a steadying breath. “But… but there might be?”

The Dark Lord lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not something to concern yourself with at this time.”

Regulus nods, stepping back. “Alright. Thank you, my Lord.” The urge to ask about Harold and his power burns hot inside him, as it always does. He shoves it down. 

The Dark Lord pushes to his feet, eyes fixed on Regulus’s face. “You’ll receive instructions.”

Regulus nods and Voldmort turns to go, heading for the entrance. At the last second something slips out of his pocket, bouncing across the floor and resting at Regulus’s feet. It’s the small stone the Dark Lord had been fiddling with earlier.

“My Lord-” Regulus stoops to grab it, looking up to find the Dark Lord already gone. 

He studies the stone carefully. There seems to be an inscription on the front, some carved rune Regulus doesn’t recognize. Around the stone's circumference there’s a ring of rusted metal, as if it had been attached to a band. 

After a moment of indecision, he slips it into his pocket. 

 

---

 

“Dad?”

“James. Come in.”

James pushes the door open slowly, taking a few hesitant steps into the room. His father looks frail and weak, cheeks grey. His eyes find James’s, moving his head slightly to look at him. James swallows, hating the sight in front of him. “How are you feeling?”

“...The doctors gave me some potions for the pain. It’s not so bad.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

“Are you all packed?”

James shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his hands before shoving them in his pockets. “I don’t want to go back to school.”

Monty smiles. “Explain.”

He feels something in his trousers and pulls it out, fiddling with it absentmindedly. It's the Rememberall from school, he realizes. The smoke is still red. “I can’t go back there while you’re- I mean. I don’t want to waste my time, when I could be here with you.”

Monty’s sigh sounds like he knew this was coming. “You need to finish school. You need a career. This is exactly why I didn’t want to take the potions- I can’t have you waiting for me.”

“There’s nothing for me there,” James pleads, taking a step forward and slipping the ball back into his trousers. 

Monty looks up at him. “What about Regulus?”

James frowns, steps faltering. “What about him?”

“Don’t you want to go back for him?”

“What are you talking about?” Does he know? How did he find out? James didn’t tell anyone he’d asked Regulus to help his father. He doesn’t think he can quite take that blow to his dignity. Especially after he’d been rejected twice. 

He has to resist the urge to try again the next time he sees him. There’s just something about him, something about the sound of his voice, that makes James think with a little more pressure he might agree. If nothing else, he doesn't seem to hate him as much as he thought, so. That’s a bonus.

Monty shakes his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. We don’t have to.”

“That’s not-”

“Finish packing, James. I’m fine.”

“You look… decidedly not fine.”

Monty waves a weak hand. “It’s nothing. Just a rough patch. I’ll be better by morning.”

It’s a lie, but maybe one they both need to hear. James takes a step back, rubbing his hands through his hair. “You’ll write?”

“Of course I’ll write.” Monty pauses and looks away, evidently realizing the irony of that statement. 

Sirius knocks on the door before James can say anything else, leaning an elbow on James’s shoulder. “You packed, Prongs?”

“No.” 

“Yeah, me neither.” Sirius hums and looks back to Monty on the bed. “We’ll see you for summer break?” 

It’s a loaded question, and everyone in the room knows it. James takes a deep breath, and shoves down the trepidation in his chest. Monty would hold out a little longer. They’d have more time.

“Yeah.” Monty looks up, eyes watery and pale. “Naturally.”

Like nearly everything else he’s said, it’s a lie. 

 

---

 

“Pass me the coloured pencils.”

Regulus puts a hand on the pouch before he pauses, turning to face Lupin. He waits.

Remus rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Please. Pass me the coloured pencils please.”

Regulus slides them over and Remus, muttering, takes them. He gets to work colouring in the constellations while Regulus flips back through the astronomy textbook. They’ve tucked their desk into a far corner of the classroom, closest to the windows. 

“I’m gonna miss this.” Remus says after a moment, and Regulus has to contain an eyeroll of his own. 

“Astronomy class?”

“Nope. Our little chats.” Remus looks up at him. “I don’t like you.”

Regulus blinks. “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

“But you do provide a certain broody, overdramatic element to my day.”

“Happy to help.”

“And you’ve made passing this class incredibly easy, as loath as I am to admit it.”

“You could’ve asked Sirius,” Regulus murmurs, scanning the table of contents for the information he needs. 

“I’d still have to do the work in class on my own. Besides, I like to think it’s brought us closer together.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Fascinating.”

Remus watches him. “James says he ran into you at the concert.”

Regulus freezes, chest aching from the sudden topic switch. “Oh.”

“Did he?”

Regulus looks back down at his book, flipping through the pages. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And, what?”

“What did he want?”

Regulus doesn’t look at him. “Same thing he wanted the first time. To help his dad.”

“Why did you storm off?”

Regulus’s head snaps up. “He told you I stormed off?”

Remus shrugs. “He has no reason not to tell me. There’s nothing to keep secret anymore.”

“Did he tell Sirius?”

“No.” 

Regulus hums lighty, watching Professor Sinistra pass their table. “Good.”

“So why’d you run off?”

Regulus’s throat closes up. He doesn’t say anything. 

“James made it sound like you were being nice before then. Which, really, you’re gonna have to try harder if you want to make it seem like you hate him.”

Regulus stares at his paper. 

“Regulus?”

“He had marks on his neck.”

Remus sucks in a breath. Neither of them speak. 

“Oh.”

Something inside Regulus shrivels, crumbling at the resolute understanding in Remus’s voice. “Yeah,” he rasps, clearing his throat. “Oh.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice those.”

I’d notice anything, Regulus wants to say. I can read his mood from across the dining hall. I know every inch of him better than I do myself. 

And the worst part is James used to know Regulus like that too. He’d enter the Come and Go room and immediately understand what Regulus needed. He would pass him in the hall and inconspicuously bump their shoulders, giving him what couldn’t quite be called a smile but something close to it- something soft and undetectable and just theirs. 

He’s the only person who’s ever been able to see through his glamour. He’s the only person who’s ever paid enough attention to notice when it flickers. 

He used to know him.

Regulus used to be known.

And now he isn’t.

Now, he’s alone in his complete understanding of himself.

Where does it go, he wonders. Where does all that memory, all that thought, all that emotion, go? It took up so much of James. He saw it. Watched it consume him. Watched it destroy him. He wonders what fills that absence now.

Apparently, some mystery lover with a pension for leaving marks. 

“I noticed.” Regulus says dryly. 

Remus lets out a soft sigh. “He… from what I understand, I don’t think he wanted it. If that helps.”

Regulus’s head snaps up as a blaze of anger shoots through him, turning his organs to molten lava. “He didn’t want it? Who-”

“No. Not- I didn’t mean it like that. He consented, or whatever. I just- I don’t think he felt good about it afterwards.”

“In what universe would that help?”

“I just mean- he isn’t in a relationship, or anything. They just fucked.”

Regulus flinches. “Glad to hear it.”

“He doesn’t remember you, Regulus. You can’t be mad he’s moved on from something that, to him, never existed in the first place.”

“He’s free to sleep with whoever he likes.” It aches, though, in a way he doesn’t quite know how to contend with. 

“Then why do you still look like you want to kill someone?”

“I don’t.”

“Lie.”

They go quiet again. Finally, Remus lets out a breath. “Ok. I’m sorry. It sucks. I mean, honestly. It would be… rough, watching an ex move on like 2 weeks after you break up.”

“We didn’t break up,” Regulus says, still reeling over the apology.

“Didn’t you?”

“No.” Regulus chuckles, hanging his head. “That would’ve been much simpler.”

“So you don’t consider this a breakup?”

“I don’t… I don't think it can be one. James was never gonna let it get that far and I erased the possibility all together.” 

Remus bites his lips. “It just- it seems drastic.”

“Drastic?”

“Yeah, but I don't know what I expected. You Blacks have always been dramatic. And the effects aren’t… disastrous.”

That, in of itself, hurts more than Regulus would like to admit.

“Right.”

“Right.” 

Remus flips over their chart and starts on the back, focusing carefully on each star. They go quiet. “What are you gonna do without me next year?”

Regulus sighs. “I don’t know. I won’t be here.”

Remus stares. “What? Why not?”

Shit. He should've said anything. 

“I’m… I’m staying home next year.”

“Why?”

Regulus holds his tongue this time. 

“Regulus, why not?”

He stands up quickly, grabbing his bag and shouldering it as he gathers his books. He can feel Remus’s eyes on him. 

Conveniently, the bell rings, and he thanks whatever god just took pity on him as he walks out. 

 

---

 

“You’re dropping out?”

Regulus freezes in the middle of the hall, staring straight ahead. Barty and Evan pause next to him. 

“You’re dropping out? ”

“Sirius, maybe we should-”

That fucking voice cuts him to the core. 

“No, Prongs, I am not leaving this alone. He’s dropping out.”

Regulus turns slowly, glancing around the mercifully empty hall. “Sirius.”

Sirius stalks towards him, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

James steps up behind him, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. He has the nerve to send Regulus an apologetic glance, one Regulus furiously ignores. Dorcas and Peter stand next to them, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Lupin never has been good at keeping secrets.”

Barty crosses his arms, muttering. “What’s he talking about?”

Regulus closes his eyes briefly. “I might… not be coming back next year.”

Evan goes stiff next to him, turning to look at him. “What?”

“My parents.” Regulus offers in lieu of an explanation. 

“But-”

“Oh, did your mates not know either? Wow, Remus must be real special.” Sirius stops right in front of him, planting his hands on his hips. 

“Sirius. Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“You can’t… Reg. What are you doing?”

Regulus shifts, staring at him. “Attempting to have a conversation.”

“No. I mean- I mean what are you doing? How is this a smart decision? Throwing away your education-”

Regulus frowns, hating the genuine concern in Sirius’s voice. Hates it more than anything. “It’s not up to you.”

“Did she ask you to do this?” Sirius asks finally. “You don’t have to. I know-” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know what it’s like when she-”

Regulus almost wants to laugh. It's been so long since his mother was the largest threat in his life. He almost misses it. “You have no idea what it’s like. She’s said nothing.”

Sirius stares at him for a long moment, eyes piercing. “I keep forgetting. You’re one of them now. I’m so… I keep forgetting.” 

Evan hisses through his teeth. “Not so loud, Black, eh? You don’t know what you're talking about.”

Regulus feels his arm burn, a brand reignited by his brother’s furious gaze. “Just leave it alone.”

“Reg,” James steps forward, reaching out slightly, and Regulus can’t stop himself from physically recoiling. “Look.” He glances up, brow furrowed, and sighs. “Can we just… can we have a moment here?”

Barty and Evan both laugh. “Absoulutely not,” Evan says, at the same time Barty says “No fucking way.”

“It’s fine,” Regulus says after a moment. He needs to control himself, really, but something about James’s presence is just so intoxicating. “I’ll see you at dinner. Just go.”

Barty and Evan don’t move, so Regulus turns around to give them a look. “I can handle myself.”

That, at least, is true. And evidently, they know it. After a moment both of them turn and walk off down the corridor, obviously muttering to themselves. With a sinking heart, Regulus turns back around to face James. This might’ve been a mistake.

“What?”

“Does he have some sort of secret plans?” Sirius asks. “Does Voldemort need you for something? Is there going to be another attack?”

Regulus says nothing, taking a step back. 

“Sirius,” Dorcas says, and her voice washes over him like an all-too familiar blanket. He misses her. “Maybe-”

“No, because I know…” Sirius groans, tugging at his hair. “He knows something. He has the mark. And now he wants to drop out of school? Do none of you find it suspicious?”

“None of this is any of your business,” Regulus offers. Sirius ignores him. 

“I don’t know why we’re pretending he’s not an active threat.” 

“So what are you gonna do?” Regulus snaps, anger tearing through him. “Turn me in? Take me to Moody? Take me to Dumbledore?”

“No,” James says quickly. “Not Dumbledore.” Immediately after they leave his mouth, he looks surprised at his own words.

“We could skip all of that and you could just tell me,” Sirius says, splaying his hands. “Is Hogwarts going to be attacked again? Do you know when?”

“I know nothing. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get to the common room.”

“Why are you dropping out?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because-”

“Sirius,” Dorcas interrupts. “What are you doing? What do you want?”

“He knows something.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “I know I need to study for final exams.”

“This is ridiculous. How can I be the only one that sees what he’s doing?”

“I-”

“James,” Dorcas hisses, getting his attention. “Can’t you…” 

And then she pauses, evidently rethinking whatever she was about to say. It’s too late, though. Regulus noticed. James turns to look at her, confused, and she widens her eyes slightly, indiciating Regulus with her chin. James just stares.

Regulus sucks in a breath. 

Dorcas looks at him.

And they both know. 

Their eyes lock, understanding rushing through Regulus like a punch to the gut. She found out. Somehow, some way, she found out. It must’ve been before Regulus… before he did what he did. Did Lupin tell her? Did James? It doesn’t matter now, he supposes. She knows.

And now she knows he knows.

Neither of them say a word.

“Regulus,” Sirius says, stepping forward. “I just. What are you doing?”

“What I have to,” he says without thinking, backing up. He wants to get out of here, suddenly consumed by the need to be free of these prying eyes and oppressive emotions. He takes one last long look at Dorcas before he turns, ignoring Sirius’s calls as he walks off. 

He can feel Peter’s eyes following him out. 

 

---

 

James frowns, watching Regulus leave. He looks back at Dorcas, who’s still staring after the other boy.

Sirius throws his hands up and stalks off, huffing. James blinks before running to catch up with him.

“Sirius. Hey. Wait up.”

Sirius doesn’t look at him, staring straight ahead as he walks. “I’m so fucking done with this.”

“He’s… ignore him.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying so bloody hard. But you can see what he’s doing, can’t you?”

James blinks. “Uh-”

“He has the mark. He’s a registered death eater. And I thought- I thought since he’s still at school, he can’t get up to anything too dangerous. Do anything too dangerous, I mean. But now he’s dropping out.”

“You can’t keep an eye on him anymore,” James offers. 

“Yes. No. I have no idea. He just…he bothers me. He gets under my skin so fucking well.”

“I don’t think Regulus is planning an attack against the school.” James says after a moment. 

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

James frowns, thinking about Regulus’s flushed face in that bathroom, eyes wide and fixed on his. He seemed so… gentle. So soft. He’d spoken in low tones, leaning towards James like it was only natural.

And, yeah. Maybe James was a little into the way his hair looked. Whatever. 

Then something happened and he’d gotten so cruel, saying the exact words James needed him to refute before storming out. 

He wishes he knew what did it. 

He wonders if he can get Regulus to look at him like that again.

“James,” Sirius says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I just… I don’t think he’d do that.”

“Then why’s he dropping out?” Sirius asks, pausing in the hall to stare at him. 

For once, James has nothing to say. 

 

---

 

It takes Peter a few days to find him.

Regulus has tucked himself into a small corner of the library, books spread out on the table in front of him. Barty and Evan study with him sometimes, but they tend to get distracted and Regulus prefers the quiet of solitude anyway. They still drop by, sometimes. Just to say hi. Which is why when the chair across from him gets pulled back, Regulus looks up with an instinctual glare. “Will you two not-”

Then he cuts himself off. Because that’s not Barty or Evan. Not at all. 

Peter Pettigrew has always been a background figure in Regulus’s life. He has a meek sort of air about him that leaves him easily ignored, brushed over in group settings. He’s a master at fading into the background, entirely nondescript but eternally there. Regulus doesn't notice him. Sometimes he thinks James and Sirius don’t either. 

“Hi,” Peter says, sliding into the seat across from him. 

“Pettigrew?” Regulus stares at him. “What do you want?”

Peter braces his elbows on the table, tipping his head. “I want to talk.”

“Right. Well, I’m a bit busy, so-”

“Is there going to be an attack soon?”

Immediately, Regulus’s resolve hardens. He grits his teeth. “My brother sent you, did he?”

“No.”

“So-”

“Look.” Peter holds up his hands, eyes glinting. “I’m just asking. You don’t have to tell me the truth.”

“Why…”

“If there is,” Peter says slowly, holding Regulus’s gaze. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

And that sentence sends Regulus’s world spinning. They stare at each other across the table. “You wouldn’t?”

Peter shrugs. “I don’t think they’d listen if I did.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you. I want the truth. I just don’t know what that is yet.” 

Regulus leans back. It’s an interesting tactic, he has to admit. Sending Peter, lowly, boring Peter, to play the part of spy. “Interesting. You might want to work on your bluffing skills.”

“Sirius is right,” Peter says. “You know more things than you let on. Which is understandable, considering your position. I rather think the Dark Lord’s potioneer knows enough to be dangerous.”

Regulus’s heart skips a beat. They don’t break eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did he say where the attack would happen?”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “Leave.”

Peter ignores him. “Listen. If he does attack Hogwarts, I want you to give him this.” He slides a little peice of paper across the table. “It’s a spell Remus made.”

Regulus stares at him, stomach sinking. Shit. “What does it do?”

“It counters the lockdown spell and opens the doors.” 

The way Regulus sees it, there are two options here. Option one, Peter is bluffing. This is the most obvious answer. He’s lying. Sirius or Moody or Dumbledore sent him with a real mission and a fake spell, luring Regulus into a trap. It’s most likely a tracking curse, activated when cast, or some sort of nasty jinx. He’s testing him- sussing out the depth of his loyalty to the Dark Lord. Ready to report back to whichever superior he can find first. That’s likely what it is. No, that’s definitely what it is.

There’s another option, of course. But. That one is so far out of logic and reason that Regulus dismisses it immediately. Peter, against all odds, might be telling the truth.

The thought terrifies him. 

Peter stands, pushing the chair back. “Good talk. I’ll see you around.”

Regulus watches him go, the little paper clutched firmly in his fist.

He’s lying. He has to be.

Either way, Regulus is quite certain Peter won't be fading into the background anymore. 

 

---

 

It takes another week for Regulus to remember the stone. 

It’s dark out, but the weather’s getting warm enough for the astronomy tower to be tolerable. Regulus goes up with the intention of finishing his astronomy chart, laying it out in front of him and everything.

As he stands up from the bench to unroll the scroll on the floor, a quill and something else slips out of his pocket. It bounces on the ground once, twice, before coming to rest against the far wall. 

Regulus stares at it for a long moment, crossing the tower slowly and bending to grab it. It takes him a moment to remember it as the stone that had slipped out of the Dark Lord’s pocket all that time ago.

He picks it up, examining it carefully. The inscription, some sort of rune, was cut deep into the stone’s surface. The band of rusted metal residue around it’s flaky and slightly silver, glinting in the pale moonlight.

Regulus crosses back to the bench, studying the stone carefully. He rotates it, turning it between his fingers as he inspects its ridges and inscription.

“What-”

It’s a male voice, shockingly close and hovering right over Regulus. Heart leaping into his throat Regulus drops the stone and scampers back on the bench, searching wildly for its source. There’s no one there, the astronomy tower just as empty as when he entered. A ghost? Most of the ghosts stuck to the lower floors of the castle.

Heart rate spiking, Regulus tentatively reaches for the stone again. Had he done something? He picks it up slowly, furrowing his brow and rotating it carefully. What had he been doing right before he heard the voice? He turns the stone in his fingers, once, twice, three times- 

“Hello?”

This time, Regulus just manages to keep ahold of the stone as he whips his head up, flinching back in surprise. What he sees, though, sends him scrambling till his back is pressed up against the wall of the tower. “What the fuck,” he hisses. 

The man, shimmery and slightly translucent, stares at him with a similar expression of pure shock. 

“What am I doing here?” he whispers. 

Regulus can’t speak, can’t think, the blood he’s never fully managed to scrub off his hands suddenly burning, consuming him entirely. Everything in him shudders. “Harold?”

“It’s you,” The man says, wide eyes locked on Regulus. 

Neither of them breathe. Regulus, out of fear, and Harold- well. For another reason entirely. 

Then the dam breaks. “Why am I here?” Harold asks, and it comes out as a gasp. He backs up, nearly tripping on himself in his need to get away. “Why are you here? Why- what-”

“I don’t know,” Regulus croaks finally, not moving from his spot against the wall. He’s drawn his knees up to his chest in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. “I don’t- I don’t understand-”

But he can’t get enough breath into his lungs to force the rest of the words out. His heartbeat is irregular, he realizes. Suddenly that’s all he can think about. Why isn’t his heart beating normally? Why’s there a weird stutter? Does it have something to do with the sudden lack of oxygen or the way his chest has tightened up? Why-

“You killed my daughters.”

-can’t he breathe? Shouldn’t it be one beat, then another, then another, on a rhythm? Isn’t it going too fast? 

“You killed them.”

Maybe if he forces it back into tune, then… Regulus presses a hand to his chest, trying to regulate the wild thumbing beneath his palm. He’s a little light headed. He can’t he can’t remember the last time he took a full breath. That would probably explain the dizziness, he thinks. 

“And you tortured me.”

The stone in his hand burns slightly and Regulus squeezes it tighter instinctually, focusing on its warmth. He could drop it, he thinks. Let it go and watch Harold disappear. He’s in control. He’s in control. 

He’s in control. 

“Your daughters are alive,” He chokes out. “They’re alive.”

Harold goes still, staring at him. He’s a little transparent, Regulus notices dimly. He can see through him to the other wall. He can’t hurt him. He probably can’t even touch him. He’s safe. 

“I got them out,” Regulus manages, words tumbling from him. “I made my house elf take them to their mother. They’re fine. She’s fine. They’re in America.”
Harold sucks in a harsh breath. “Why am I here?” he says eventually. “How am I here?”

Feebly, Regulus raises the hand with the stone in it. “I… magic, of some sort. I’m not sure yet.”

“So I’m still dead.”

Regulus swallows. “Assumedly. Yes.”

“Why you ? Why am I here?”

“I have the stone,” Regulus whispers, still staring at him. 

Harold takes a few steps and Regulus flinches hard, turning his face away. When he glances back, he finds Harold has taken a seat on the bench. “My daughters,” he says.

“They’re safe. I got them out. They’re with their mother.”

“I thought you killed them.”

“He wanted me to.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.”

Harold lets out a sigh so full of relief and exhaustion that a thousand years more guilt settles on Regulus’s shoulders. “I don't believe you.”

“They’re alive.”

“Does he know what you did?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Can I… can I ask why?”

Regulus sucks in a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t do it.”

“No, I mean- why he did it. Why you did it. Why me.”

“You wrote an article,” Regulus whispers, voice cracking. 

Harold’s eyes find his. “I wrote an article.”

They sit with that for a long time. 

“Why did he stab me? Why not the killing curse?”

“I don’t know.” And then… “Maybe- he. Well. He did something. A ritual.” Regulus looks up. “He said he transferred your magic to me.”

Harold lets out a soft hiss. “What?”

“I don’t understand it anymore than you. He refuses to… I mean, I’ve gotten no other information. I wish I could tell you more.”

“But… my magic? What’s so special about me?”

“I have no idea.”

“What does that mean?”

Regulus just shrugs, still watching him. The horrible rot in his stomach starts to make its way up his throat.

Harold stares at the far wall. “My girls are ok?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you do it? Why are you on his side?”

“I don’t have a choice. I never had a choice.”

“Oh.” Harold looks down. “You stole everything from me. You tortured me.”

“I never had a choice,” Regulus murmurs again.

“I’ve never felt pain like that.”

“It’s horrible, I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t want to do that. I never wanted to do that.”

Harold shakes his head, tired. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you have any idea what it feels like. I wanted to die.”

“I asked- I mean, I tried to… I don’t know.”

They go quiet.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Harold whispers.

Regulus nods, fingers loosening on the stone. He’s shaking, all over. “I’m so sorry,” he manages finally, the words he's been waiting months to say finally crawling off his tongue. 

Harold looks up slowly, familiar golden brown eyes finding their way to Regulus’s face. “I don’t forgive you.”

Regulus lets the stone fall from his fingers and collapses into himself against the stone of the wall.

Notes:

ok ok here it is!! so so sorry for that long wait lol sorry if I scared some of y'all. I got distracted with other projects and then life got terrifyingly busy as it often does. NGS is my first and only love though so never fear.
Poor regulus honestly he truly needs a break but like he's just so tragic ykwim like as a concept he is soooo tragic
I love James and I miss him dearly and I miss jegulus and I miss barty and Evan and pandora and lily and Marlene and Mary and all my girls
alright let me know what you think!

Chapter 54: Mon Soleil

Gryfindor wins the Quidditch Cup, of course. The final match is against Hufflepuff, under the fluffy clouds of a sunny summer Saturday. James scores the winning goal, which, really. It’s perfect. Everything. 

The feeling of the air on his face, the brush of the wind through his hair, the screaming students in the stands. It hurts, how wide he’s smiling when he touches the ground. 

Sirius throws his arms around him and James is laughing, throwing his head back, cackling into the light of the sun. It feels so fucking good. The crowd rushes in from the stands, and for a long, golden moment, everything else melts away.

His father is fine.

Hogwarts is safe. 

The blank, consuming feeling in his chest, the mud in his mind, never existed. 

Because it’s his final year, his best friend is hugging him, his team is surrounding him, and he just scored the winning goal in the Quidditch Cup. 

It’s almost perfect. 

It is perfect. 

It is. 

James grins as Marlene barrels into him, followed shortly by Remus- never one for Quidditch but breathless with joy all the same. 

“We fucking did it,” Sirius gasps, glowing with happiness. “Thank fuck.”

James buries his face in Marlene’s hair and pulls Sirius closer, holding on to them with every last ounce of strength he has. “We did.”

Somewhere the band starts up, and everything is right. 

The party that night turns out mildly insane. The only house not there is Hufflepuff-  they decide to spend their time nursing their loss in a separate common room, away from the music and revelry. Someone found an extensive amount of firewhisky, Sirius takes charge of the record player, and the night gets even better. 

James takes another swig of whisky and sighs, leaning his head back on the couch. He stares at the ceiling, relaxing into the energy of the party. “I don’t know what I was worried about. We’ve won for like, three years straight.” 

Sirius sighs contentedly. “You should really have some more faith in us.”

“Can’t beat the best.”

“No you can not.” Sirius leaps off the couch and goes to join the dancers in the middle of the room.

Peter traces a pattern into the carpet at their feet. “Were there any scouts at the game?”

“Loads,” James and Marlene say at the same time. 

“Definitely,” James adds. “We’ll be noted for sure. I saw them scribbling during the match.”

“So it’s really happening, then?” Peter says, eyes glittering in the firelight. “You’re going pro after school?”

“Yeah, once the war ends.” James sits forward. “I bet someone saw that goal.”

“They had to have.”

“What about you, Pete? Where are you off to?”

Peter, looking slightly surprised at the question, shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“You like herbology. Couldn’t you… do something with that?”

“Like what?”

James wracks his brain for any profession pertaining to herbology. “Er… you could teach?”

Peter gives him a look. “Teach.”

“Yeah! Or, you know, you could be a healer. I know there are potion healers, but surely plants are like just as important.”

Peter waves a hand. “No one wants to be a healer anymore. Times are too stressful right now.”

James shakes his head, tipsy. “That’s not true. I know someone who does.”

Peter, obviously thinking over their friends, tilts his head. “Wait, who?”

James frowns. “I… I don’t remember.” he shrugs. “But you can’t have potions without plants, right?”

Peter sighs, flopping back on the carpet. He nearly spills his drink, but steadies it at the last minute. “I don’t want to spend my life cultivating something someone else can use. That’s such a… nondescript job.”

“You could always join Quidditch.”

Peter laughs, and it may just be in James's head but it sounds a little hollow. “I’m a little past my would-be prime, aren’t I? You should’ve asked me first year.”

James shrugs. “Never too late to hop on the broom.” he laughs, then stiffles it behind his hand. “Shit. there were totally scouts there, weren’t there?”

“Probably.” Remus chimes in. “But hey. You scored the winning goal. You were the best player out there.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Sirius.”

“I’m so telling Sirius.”

“Regardless- there’s no way you won’t get recruited, like, immediately.”

James lets out a breath. “Merlin, I hope so.”

Remus leans over. “How are you so calm right now?”

James looks at him, smiling as his chest warms. “I’m so fucking not. It’s- this is everything- this. I don’t even know. I’ve been working towards this since first year.”

Remus stares at him, eyes wide and watchful. There’s a certain quality in his face James doesn’t know how to place. “I’m so glad you’re happy. It’s- you deserve this.”

James just blinks back at him, a little confused. “I- thanks?”

Remus nods, still watching him. “It’s good.”

“Good?”

“Better.”

“Then what?”

Remus shrugs, a light smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then before.”

James decides to chalk his confusion up to the drink in his hand and stands up, hopping off the couch. “Do you want to go to the kitchens? We can get some food to bring back for everyone.”

Remus nods, looking around. James watches as his gaze sets on Sirius, dancing in the middle of the floor. James grins. “We’ll be quick,” He reassures. “Let's go.”

Remus follows him, stumbling slightly upon rising. They duck out of the portrait hole and start down the corridor, giggling when the portraits on the walls grumble at the disturbance. The castle echoes around them, warm and welcoming, a protective fortress.

---

 

The house-elves are asleep by the time Remus and James reach the kitchen. Remus watches as James rummages through the storage pile, grabbing food and handing it back. 

Remus fills his pockets and together they find a satchel to put the rest in. James leads the way as they head back, humming lightly to himself. Remus follows him blindly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling and watch the rafters pass them by. He likes this feeling, this floating, pleasant happiness that comes with alcohol and the knowledge that Sirius’s waiting for him back in the Common Room, looking like a fallen angel on the dance floor. 

When James stops walking, Remus runs into his back, stumbling a bit as he rights himself. He looks around, frowning. “Prongs? Why’d we stop?”
There’s no one around. Remus recognizes the corridor they're in, but it’s nowhere near the Gryffindor Common Room. James must have led them somewhere else while Remus wasn’t paying attention. 

James stands facing the wall, staring at an unfamiliar large door with his hand resting on the handle. Remus feels his brows pinch, confused. He didn't know there was a door here. He’s never seen it before.

“James?”

James doesn’t move, his face so serious and set Remus takes a step back. “The Come and Go room,” James whispers. 

“What?”

“I asked the house elves. That's what this room is called.”

Oh. 

Oh, shit.

“Maybe we should go back to the party.”

“No.”

“James-”

“Fuck.” James curses under his breath, ducking his head and pressing his forehead to the door.

Remus is severely out of his depth here. He has no idea what to do, what to say. He just watches as James squeezes his eyes shut. He wishes he knew what was going on in his head. 

“No. Screw this.” Before Remus can stop him, James twists the knob and throws open the door, stepping in. Remus forces his feet to move, running in after him. 

They both stop in the middle of the room, turning to scan their surroundings. There’s a large bed on one end, a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the walls, and faint stars glow on the ceiling above them. It’s lovely and warm, so painfully intimate that Remus feels like an intruder. He wonders what parts came from James and what parts came from Regulus. 

It’s interesting, he thinks. How the Come and Go room kept the space exactly the same, even after James had forgotten what he was looking for. Some part of him must’ve known, though, for the magic to work. Some part of him must remember. 

James turns in a circle in the middle of the carpet, chest heaving. “What the fuck.”

“It’s just some room,” Remus tries, though he can’t quite force the confidence he needs into his voice. 

“It’s- It’s not. I know it’s not. I don’t know…” James turns to look at him, and everything inside Remus crumbles at the sight of tears in his eyes, glittering behind his glasses. “I keep coming back here. Whenever I’m not paying attention to where I'm going, whenever I zone out, I always end up here, reaching for that doorknob. I’ve never gone in, because… well, I don’t know.”

“James…”

“Like, isn’t it odd? That the room of requirement would give me something I’ve never wanted before?”

“James.”

“What is this place, Moony? Why do I always come here? Why does the castle think this is the room I need?” James paces, running a hand through his hair as he looks around wildly. “And why do I know it? I know those books, I know those stars, I know that bed. I know all of it. I just don’t know how.”

Remus just stares at him, wide-eyed and silent. There isn’t much he can say.

James lets out a bitter huff of laughter. “I’m just so fucking sick of this. I’m confused, all the time. My brain is filled with mud and I can’t think. I feel like I’m going insane. No one ever knows what I’m talking about, and people keep saying things that don’t make sense. Even the way you’re looking at me right now, like I’ve lost my mind. My head hurts, and I’m dizzy, and…”

Remus takes a step forward. How long has he been feeling like this?

Who’s he kidding. Remus knows exactly how long. “You’ve been drinking. Maybe-”

“No. It’s not that. I know that. This- this is different. It’s constant. It’s like- It’s like something has been torn from me and I can't figure out what. And I can't even remember the last time I didn’t feel like this. I can’t- I can’t remember.”

He’s drunk and rambling, but the words cut straight to Remus’s core anyway. Everything in him aches in the face of so much pain. He wants to tell him, to explain, to put him back together and slide the missing peice back into place. 

“Why am I always here, Moony? Why am I always reaching for that doorknob?”

But.

But there’s a reason the piece is missing in the first place. There’s cause for its absence. So Remus swallows down the truth and pictures James’s bright, excited eyes as he says: “I have no idea.”

He feels, unequivocally, like a traitor. 

James lets out a long breath, taking another look around. “There should be a table here,” he mumbles quietly, staring at the carpet. He sounds tired. 

Remus says nothing. 

Neither does James. 

 

---

 

As they walk back up to the party, Remus can’t ignore the creeping dread rising up his throat. It's mixed with the fear that he may have been, well, wrong. 

Maybe James isn’t as happy as he thought. Remus thinks about what Regulus said, that night on the astronomy tower, about James not telling them when something’s wrong. Because for James to break like that, for him to show that much hurt, everything had to have gotten too much to shove down. Even the deepest containers can overflow when filled past their limit.

James might’ve needed Regulus more than any of them had accounted for. Remus wants to kick himself. James snuck off to meet him in secret for over a year, hiding their relationship from his closest friends and going to great lengths to keep him safe. He’d stayed with him as Regulus got closer to Voldemort. He’d stayed with him when Regulus took the mark. He’d loved him so much Regulus had to obliviate him, just to keep him safe. Of course it’d feel like something’s missing. Of course there’d be a gap left behind. Remus had been stupid to think James was just fine.

Which begs the question: if James is going this insane from his lack of memories, how the fuck is Regulus holding himself together while still burdened with all of his?

He may be a horrible person, but Remus… Remus can’t even imagine what he must be feeling right now. The weight of that realization forces him to come to a stop in the middle of the corridor, bracing himself on the wall as he sucks in a shuddering breath.

James turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Feeling sick?”

Yes. “No. I’m fine. I just…” He can’t meet James’s eyes. “Do you think Regulus wants to drop out?”

Immediately he has James’s full attention. He takes a few steps towards him. “I don’t know. Do you? I can’t imagine…” He trails off into a distant hum, walking up and leaning against the wall next to Remus. “He loves school. I mean, he has to, with parents like that. He and Sirius are different, but I know they agree on this.” 

“But he has to agree, right? It’s his choice.”

“I…” James frowns, like this is something he’s thought over many a time. His mouth twists, an ugly grimace. “He’s got the mark. Does that mean- does that mean he’s loyal to Voldemort?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

“James. He has the mark.”

James looks over at him, brows pinched. He’s drunk, Remus reminds himself. “But.”

“But?”

“I don’t want him to be.”

It’s so plain, so pure, so simple that it tugs at his gut in a way Remus can’t ignore. “I don't think anyone does, except maybe a few of his friends and his parents.”

James snaps his fingers, pointing at him. “Exactly! Right. That’s what I’m trying to say. His parents. His family. Let's think about this, okay?” He slides down the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He motions for Remus to join him, right there in the middle of the corridor. “So. I’ve been trying to figure this out, right? Because Regulus really doesn’t seem like the type to take the mark.”

Remus ignores the excited glint in James’s eye. Maybe bringing this up was a mistake, especially considering their previous conversation. “He kind of does.”

James shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No. Not really. No one understands him.”

“And you do?"

"I..." James's expression slips. "I don't. 

And, wow, if that isn’t the saddest thing Remus has ever heard. 

“I mean. Remus, I really don’t think he’s like the rest of them. I know I sound insane, and you can’t tell Sirius any of this, but what if… what if he was forced into it?”

Every word aches in the pit of Remus’s chest as he stares at his friend, hopeful and confused, trapped in a world of blank spaces and chasing the echoes of lost emotions. “Don’t you have to consent to get the mark?”

“Of course he’d want it if the other option was death,” James says easily. 

But Remus has a job to do. And he can’t let James go down this path. Not again. “James. He’s cruel. Think about what he did to Sirius. Think about how mean he is, all the time. Do you remember that time he attacked that random fifth year?”

James frowns, focusing. “That… didn’t he have a reason for that?”

Remus shakes his head. “Not that I know of,” he says honestly. 

“I feel like. I thought… I mean. Nevermind. Yeah, okay. That was fucked up. I can’t defend everything he does.”

“I’m shocked you’re defending any of it.”

“It’s just. Why haven’t we considered… I should talk to Sirius about this.”

“You should absolutely not.”

“I must.”

“You… musn’t.”

James hums. “I think he’s fascinating,” he says mildly. “Don’t you?”

“Merlin, James,” Remus manages weakly. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just enough to spill my darkest secrets, I guess.”

“I’m getting that, yeah.”

“Well. I can’t very well tell Sirius I think his little brother is the most captivating thing I’ve ever seen. None of the girls… I mean, we don’t talk about things like that. Not after Lily. And Peter. Peter’s… drifting. So that leaves you.”

“Honored.”

“Mm. I suppose you should be.”

“You’ve never said any of this before,” Remus says eventually. It’s true. James refused to tell anyone about Regulus until Remus accidently found out. It’s odd he’d offer up his feelings so easily. Remus is playing with fire, he knows, but he can’t help it. “Why now, do you think?”

“I noticed him. The other day. Do you remember when we turned all the staircases to slides? It was an… awakening experience, to say the least.” James stares at the wall across from him, wincing slightly.

“Are you ok?”

“My head hurts.”

“Too much to drink,” Remus comments quietly. 

“Probably.”

Remus decides to test something out, perhaps cruelly. “I didn’t know you were into blokes. I mean, Fabian came as a surprise.”

Something terribly familiar flashes across James’s face. “I… am? I have been. I thought. I thought that came up. I guess I never really said it outright. I didn’t want to.”

Remus smiles. “I get it. It’s fine.”

James lets out a long breath, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. Remus stares at him, setting a hand on his back. “James…”

“I’ll be okay, Moony. Don’t worry about me.” But James won’t look at him. 

“I wish you’d talk to me like this more.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry I put all this on you.”

“Plus your dad… Merlin, James.”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

But it’s too late. When Remus looks over at him, the wall has slid back down behind James’s eyes. The brief window of honesty Remus was allowed is gone, locked away and shoved back from the deep pit from which it came. The moment was rare and fleeting, a side of James he’s not sure he’s ever truly seen before.

Maybe he should get him drunk more often. 

“Let’s head back. Sirius will be missing his loverboy, and we’ve got snacks to deliver.”

Remus nods, pushing himself to his feet. His knees ache, sore from the sitting. The full moon must be soon. 

When they open the door everyone cheers, and James smiles, and as Remus watches him, he realizes there’s no difference between this smile and the ones James has always worn. 

He’s starting to wonder if it’s possible to find any cracks.

He’s starting to wonder if Regulus was the only one who knew how. 

James finds Sirius, reaching out and spinning him, dancing to the beat of the music. Mary and Lily flash by next to them, a twirl of orange fabric and red hair, their laughs echoing through the shouts. A Ravenclaw turns up the music, chatting to her friends as the swell of sound fills the room. Sirius grins and ducks under James’s arm, jumping on his back and shouting something about quidditch and lions. The crowd cheers, James beams, and Remus thinks that maybe he does have his cracks. Maybe he’s covered in them. But, honestly, Remus’s skin is a patchwork by now. And some days Sirius can hardly move for fear of shattering. That doesn’t make this– this glowy, happy, warm moment– any less real. 

Because right now, with the wind beating at the shutters and the fire crackling, everything feels distant. There’s a war, somewhere, but not here. Not in this room. 

Remus smiles, refilling his glass, and joins his friends. 

 

---

 

Regulus watches his brother spin amidst the crowd of dancers, baring all his teeth in his smile. His hair, too long, curls bouncing around his face and shoulders. Remus was staring at him earlier, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and Regulus watched him watch him. They caught hands amidst the chaos, just once, a single touch before they pulled apart.

Regulus saw all he needed to see in that moment.

Pandora hums next to him. “Well, if it couldn’t be Ravenclaw, I suppose the Gyfindors deserve it.”

“Not Slytherin?” Evan asks, affronted.

Pandora flashes a lazy grin. “You guys are always the bad guys. We need some hope before you crush us all.”

“Traitor. Come on, Reg, we deserved that win.”

Regulus can’t hide his smile as he takes a sip of his drink. “We lost to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff.”

“That was… that was a technical mishap. The ref was making bad calls.”

“You don’t even play Quidditch. What do you care?”

Evan frowns. “It's the principle of the thing. Everyone is denying the facts.”

Regulus shrugs. “James Potter made a bloody good goal. Care to deny that?”

Evan, apparently, can not. 

Barty appears before them, arms crossed. “You guys are being boring. Come dance.”

Pandora shakes her head from where she’s tucked herself in next to Regulus. “We’re being warm. It’s cozy. Join us.”

“Absolutely not.”

The window seat is barely big enough for the three of them, but they manage to shift enough for Barty to reluctantly sink down next to Evan. “This party sucks.”

Regulus gives him a look. “This is the biggest party of the year. You can not mean that.”

“It’s so… bright.”

“I forgot you’re allergic to cheer.”

“You literally only wear green and various shades of black.”

“A perfectly respectable wardrobe.”

“Yeah, for an eighty-year old man.”

“Let’s not quarrel,” Pandora hums, putting her head back on Regulus’s shoulder. Usually he’d shift, push her off, at least in public. But the drink in his hand is warming his veins and there’s really no one watching, so he doesn’t mind.

Well. There’s one person watching. But Regulus has been pointedly ignoring his gaze all evening. He doesn’t trust himself right now, not like this. He’s far too drunk to return James’s heated stare and not do something stupid. 

“Aren’t you going to miss this?” Barty says, gesturing out at the crowded room. “I doubt you could get away with a party of this magnitude in Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

Regulus lifts a shoulder. “We have a basement.”

“Ok, well, the second you get the guts to throw a party, you send me an owl, alright?”

“I’ll miss it,” Regulus allows, staring out at the party. Dimly he wishes the Slytherin Common room was this warm. “Not the Gyrfindors, though. Everything else.”

“You’re lucky,” Barty says, stretching his arms over his head. When he relaxes he inconspicuously lets one fall over Evan’s shoulders. Regulus pretends not to notice. “If I could leave now and join the cause I would, no questions asked.”

Regulus takes a long drink, emptying his glass and setting it down. “Yeah, well. You saw how Sirius felt about the matter.”

“Fuck Sirius. Since when has his opinion counted for anything?”

“...True.”

“Besides, he does this a lot. Blowing up at you when you’ve done something he doesn’t approve of and ignoring you the rest of the time.”

Regulus watches his brother grab James and lead him over to the record player, flipping through different sleeves. “Maybe.”

“Remember what happened after you went on that mission with the Dark Lord?”

Regulus frowns. “Everything about that was… bad.”

Pandora yawns gently on his shoulder. She doesn’t drink, but Regulus is fairly certain she polished off an entire spliff herself earlier. “You never told us what happened.”

Regulus looks down, frustrated. He’s still reeling from his conversation in the astronomy tower, aching and, surprisingly, a little angry. “And I won’t.”

Honestly, Harold had no right judging him like that. Regulus did… something, sure, but he’d had his reasons. He didn’t do it because he wanted to. Couldn’t Harold see that? Couldn’t everyone?

James is still watching him. 

Everything is suddenly too much.

Regulus stands up quickly, a little dizzy but no less determined for it. “I have to… do something. Right now.”

Pandora looks up at him, frowning. “Are you getting sick?”

“No.” Regulus shoves his hands in his pockets, fingers closing around the stone he hasn’t had the nerve to take out since that night. He pushes through the crowd, shoving people aside in his haste to get to the door. He leaves the party behind, taking the stairs two at a time as he makes his way up to the Astronomy Tower.

He throws open the door and yanks the stone out of his pocket, breathing heavily. He turns it in his fingers quickly, focusing on the motion blearily. 

“Why am I here?”

Regulus startles, whipping around and stumbling slightly. “Harold.”

The man stares at him, gentle eyes hard and judgemental. “You’re drunk.”

Regulus crosses his arms. “Maybe.”

“You know my name.”

“I know your name.”

They stare at each other from across the room, both frozen to the spot. Harold looks away. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

Regulus remembers himself and blinks. “You. I- you need to understand something.”

“What’s that.”

“I didn’t want to do that. What I did.”

Harold narrows his eyes. “As if that makes a difference. You still did it.”

Regulus throws up his hands. “No. You don’t get it. I didn’t want to. I was forced- the Dark Lord-”

“You’re trying to convince me you didn’t want to do it while still calling Voldemort the Dark Lord?” 

“Voldemort took me straight from school. My brother- I had to go with him. He would’ve hurt me or him.”

“Oh, and I suppose there’s nothing worse than getting a little hurt.”

Regulus takes a furious step forward. “I’ve been hurt. You think I haven't been hurt?”

“I don’t think you’ve had to listen to the screams of your daughters getting murdered before you were tortured and then stabbed to death, no.”

“I got your daughters out. I saved them.”

“I don’t believe you.”

And that… that’s just cruel. Regulus glares at him and snaps his fingers. “Kreature.”

The house-elf, traditionally banned from apperating on Hogwarts grounds, appears with a pop. He looks around wearily, taking a few shuffling steps towards Regulus when he sees Harold’s apparition. “Master Regulus. Why is Kreature here? If the other elves notice he'll be in such trouble- Mistress Walburga doesn't allow Kreature on school property-”

“Ask me something only your daughters would know.” Regulus demands, staring at the man in front of him. 

Harold looks between him and Kreature, obviously at a loss. “What… what were their stuffed animal’s names?”

Regulus directs his attention to Kreature. “Can you please locate those girls I told you to bring to their mother a while ago? I need you to ask them about their old toy’s names.”

Kreature gives him a dirty look but disappears anyway. Regulus looks back up at Harold. “I saved them.”

Harold presses his lips together. “And then you came downstairs and took everything from me. Everything. My whole life. My literal life. Everything.”

“I didn’t kill you.”

“No, you just made me wish you had.”

“I had no choice!”

“How often do you tell yourself that?”

Regulus runs a hand through his hair, fury replacing the alcohol in his blood. “You don’t understand what it’s like, being his pawn. It’s- I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you… what? Want me to tell you it’s ok? That I don’t blame you?”

“I don’t know why everyone assumes everything’s my fault, all the time. I don’t get what’s so hard to understand: I don’t have free will. I don’t. He calls, I come. He tells me to torture an innocent man, I do. He wants my best friend’s teeth? I cut them out of her head with the knife he gave me. I do whatever he wants, because I have to. Because he’ll kill me. Or my brother. Or my boyfriend. Or whoever he needs to.” 

Harold stares at him. “You… cut your best friend’s teeth out of her head?”

Regulus waves a hand. “She was a snake.”

“Your best friend is a snake?”

“Was. Was a snake.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“You’re distracting me. I need you to-” Regulus steps back, sinking onto the bench and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t get it. You don’t get my point. You aren’t hearing me.”

“What I’m hearing is a self-centered blood supremacist trying to convince me, the man he tortured and then murdered, that his actions should be excused because he was too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

Regulus sucks in a breath, anger flaring. “I. Thats. That’s not right. You sound like my brother.”

“Have you ever considered your brother may be on to something?”

Regulus looks out the window, watching the stars glitter in the spring night. They twinkle gently, soft and beckoning. Regulus wonders if he could join them, float up and out of his body until he melts into something so small and far away. He wonders if his problems would still look as big from the stars. He suspects they would. One, at least, would stand out. James’s love has always been larger than the night sky. 

Harold says something behind him, but Regulus can’t hear him. He thinks about Icarus, trapped with his father in that labyrinth. He wonders if he was scared. He wonders if Icarus ever considered another way out before donning the wings. Sometimes, the walls of a labyrinth can feel so impenetrable that wax seems like the only way out. Even if it melts, at least it changes its shape. 

“I’m going to kill the king.” Regulus says after a moment. He’s known it for a long time, ever since he had Saskia’s fangs in his arms on the floor of his bedroom. He’s never said it outloud before, though, and the words taste funny on his tongue.

“What?”

Regulus looks up, focusing on the ethereal man in front of him. “I’m going to solve the labyrinth and kill the king.”

“You mean Voldemort?”

Regulus holds his gaze and nods. “I know how. I’m the only one that knows how.”

Harold takes a few steps back, eyes wide. “I… what?”

“I hate him.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Regulus thinks of his mother and that long dark table surrounded by masked figures and wants to laugh. “No.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Harold looks at him like he’s stupid. “Why are you going to kill him? You have his mark. You do his dirty work.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Regulus grits out. Why does no one listen to him? James would’ve understood. “I never wanted any of this. I’ve never had a choice.”

“You tortured me.”

“Did you not see the blood I was covered in? Did you not see that I had no choice?”

“I saw you look me in the eye before your Dark Lord drove a dagger into my heart.”

“I was paralyzed by a spell the Dark Lord put on us. That was when he transferred your magic to me.”

Harold narrows his eyes. “I still don’t understand that bit.”

“Neither do I.”

“Are you more powerful now?”

“Not particularly.”

“So…”

“So I don’t know. He refuses to talk to me about it.”

“And you’re not curious?”

“I…” Regulus drops his head. “I don’t have the capacity for that right now.”

“I think you need to stop pitying yourself for one second and see the larger picture here. If you want to kill him, do it. Don’t spend your time talking to me about it.”

Regulus looks up, angry again. “I need you to understand.”

“I don’t. I don’t understand. I don’t think you have the will to resist him. Being a traitor takes guts, something I don’t think you have.”

“I saved your girls. “

“I don’t think you did. That would be an actually decent thing to do.”

“I don’t need you to believe me.”

“You obviously do. And here you are: I don’t. I think you’re a coward who’s never gone against the grain once in his life, and isn’t about to start.”

Regulus shoots up from the bench, chest heaving. Kreature takes that moment to appear between them with a pop, eyes only for Regulus. “The girls say Teddy and Bean, sir.”

That’s all it takes. Regulus reacts before he can think, throwing the stone in his hand at Harold’s rippling form. In the split second before he vanishes, Harold’s eyes go wide at Kreature’s words. His gaze, in an eerie rendition of the night he died, locks itself on Regulus’s as he disappears. The stone bounces off the floor across from him. 

Regulus doesn’t dare breathe. 

“Master?”

“Thank you Kreature. You’re dismissed.”

The house elf disappears in the next second. Regulus moves back to the bench, sitting down heavily. He’s dizzy. 

“Reg?”

Regulus looks up, stiffening when Evan appears in the doorway. “Evan.” Does he not get even a second to breathe?

“Were you talking to someone?”

“No.”

“Oh. I just came up to check on you and thought I heard…”

“How’d you know I was here?”

Evan smiles lightly. “Where else would you be? You always-”

“Not always.”

Evan’s smile falters. “No. Not always. You used to go somewhere else, didn’t you? Sometimes we’d go looking for you and you wouldn’t be here.”

Regulus leans his head back on the wall. “I like the fresh air.”

“Good view of the stars, too.”

“The stars are less preferable.”

Evan hums. “Why are you up here?”

“Party was too crowded.”

“Planning on coming back down?”

Regulus closes his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Good choice. Barty’s about four drinks in. You don’t wanna miss what happens at five.”

“How’s he doing? With his father and everything?”

Evan’s eyes dim a little. He looks away. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Have you seen his arms?”

“No.”

Evan nods, letting out a dry little chuckle. “They’re covered in scratches. It’s nothing- I mean. It’s not like that . I got him to talk to me, once. He said he did it to remind himself he was in control. It’s his way of staying sane.”

A while ago Regulus figured out that’s why Barty is the way he is. The insanity, the wild actions and rash decisions, all come from a deep seated need to be individual. To keep his autonomy. Still, his arms… “I didn’t know.”

“Nor did I. I don’t think he cares, or sees an issue with it.” Evan pauses. “Could you talk to him, maybe?”

Regulus stares. “Why me?”

Evan looks guilty, shifting in his seat. “I just. Your… I mean. Your arm. I don’t know.”

Oh.

Regulus’s shoulder throbs at the reminder. “You know?”

“Dorcas told me.” 

The traitor. 

“And everyone else?”

Evan shakes his head. “Just me.”

Regulus sighs. He wants more alcohol. “They aren't the same.”

“Well…”

“One: different circumstances. And two: I didn’t do that to myself.”

Evan lets out a huff of air. They go quiet for a long moment. “He’s literally tearing himself apart.” Evan whispers finally. “He expects me to just watch. To not care.”

“I think he likes that you care.”

“I don’t think he does. He sees it as a weakness. He’s worried it will get us in trouble.”

“Yes, well.” Regulus mumbles, looking out at the stars. “He may have a point.” It’s the first time Evan has come close to talking about his and Barty’s relationship- if that’s what you can call it. As a general rule they don’t bring it up.

“We aren’t- I mean. What we’re doing. It doesn’t matter. It’s just- It’s just a fun little thing on the side. It won’t affect anything.”

“Mhm.”

“It won’t.”

“I believe you.”

“You sound like you don’t. He doesn't- I mean." Evan snorts, pressing his hands to his eyes. "Even if I wanted... more, he doesn't. That's not- that's not in the cards for either of us."

"Mm."

"He... did you know he even hates pet names? Like, any. They're too... too real, I guess."

"I can hardly imagine Barty calling anyone sweetheart," Regulus says dryly. 

Evan chuckles. "Yeah. I might've said baby once by accident while we were... otherwise occupied. A mistake, to say the least. He's even more against calling someone else anything like that. I think it would genuinely kill him."

"He's not the... softest soul," Regulus says eventually. 

"No."

They go quiet for a minute.

“Will you follow him?” Regulus asks. 

Evan blinks in surprise, eyes going wide. “What?”

“Will you follow him. I mean. If he gets the Mark, will you?”

Evan’s gaze turns piercing. “That’s not the question you want to ask.”

“No.”

“Go on.”

“Do you want to follow him? Do you want the mark?” 

Evan stares at him. Regulus stares right on back.

“You have it.” Evan says. 

“I do.”

“And?”

Regulus swallows. Looks away. “It burns.”

Evan nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I thought it might.”

They sit with that for a minute.

Evan has never been entirely enthusiastic about the cause. Regulus is fairly certain he doesn’t much care about blood supremacy or anything like that. This pretty much confirms it. So, if he doesn’t want the mark and doesn’t particularly support Voldemort, then why…

“I’ll follow him.” Evan says into the night air. 

They both know he isn’t talking about the Dark Lord.

“Okay.” Regulus says, and that’s that. 

They go back to the party a minute later. 

 

---

 

Regulus dreams of a snake, slithering across the floor.

He dreams of wide brown eyes, glistening with fear beneath him. 

He dreams of blood on his fangs. 

He wakes to the taste of copper on his tongue and a split lip. 

 

---

 

James, for once, finds himself glad Dumbledore decides to interrupt dinner.

“The school, for your safety, has decided to institute another lockdown drill after second period tomorrow. The doors will be closed for around thirty minutes. Please do not attempt to open them.”

Groans and complaints echo out across the hall. Across from him, Peter shifts nervously. “So soon?” he hisses. 

“I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. This is a necessary measure installed for your safety. Please remember that.”

James searches the sea of bodies till he finds the back of Regulus’s head, and he grins. 

 

---

 

Second period rolls around fairly quickly. James, having secured the map from Moony’s bedside table, keeps a close eye on it. He’s lucky: Regulus is traveling alone, walking to his next class on the third floor. James starts moving.

When he eventually finds him, it’s only because he nearly runs headlong into him. They both stumble back and James instinctually reaches out to steady Regulus, grabbing his arm. The motion sends a pang of pain through his head, one he pointedly ignores.

“Hey. There you are. I was looking for you.”

Regulus’s eyes go wide, flicking up to meet his. They’re so dark, so deep. James takes a step forward. 

“Potter.” Regulus says disjointedly. “What do you want? I need to get to class.”

“I need to talk to you. I have an idea.”

“I told you, this is pointless-”

“No. Not that. This is new.”

They both seem to realize James is still holding his arm. Regulus steps back. James doesn’t move. “Not now. The lockdown-”

“Exactly.” James grins. “Pretty please, Reg?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Lovely. Let’s go.”

“Potter-”

“Come on.” James grabs his wrist and starts walking, going for the closest door he can find. Regulus resists, but James has always been stronger. He opens the door and - gently - pulls Regulus inside.

Regulus stumbles forward and wheels around, already fuming. James grins, shutting the door behind them. The classroom, thankfully, is empty. 

“Potter, move aside right now.” Even his anger looks good on him. 

James winces. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because then you’ll be in the hallway during lockdown, and that just wouldn’t do. Seems we’ve got...” James casts a tempus charm in the air between them. “Fifty seconds.”

Regulus fixes him with his deadliest glare. “Move.”

“...No.”

Regulus pushes forward anyway, just like James knew he would. James sidesteps, throwing out his arms to block Regulus from the door. Regulus, apparently not wanting to get that close to James but unwilling to give up, huffs angrily and tries to duck around him.

James catches him with an arm around his middle and gently pushes him back into the room. “Reg, love, just hear me out.”

Regulus goes still instantly, staring at him. “Don’t call me that.”

James blinks. He didn’t have an issue with his name before. “Uh… ok? Regulus, just hear me out. Better?”

Regulus, for some indiscernible reason, pinks and looks away. “No.” He grits out.

The door takes that moment to click as a voice booms through the halls. “ATTENTION STUDENTS. COMMENCING LOCK DOWN. THIS IS A DRILL. PLEASE FIND THE CLOSEST CLASSROOM AND WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE DISMISSED.”

James, satisfied, steps aside and watches as Regulus grabs the handle, a few seconds too late. The door doesn’t budge.

“Sorry,” James offers as Regulus lets his head fall against the wood with a thump. “I needed to talk to you and I knew you’d refuse unless I gave you no choice.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” James takes a few steps back and sinks into a chair at a desk, propping his chin in a hand and watching Regulus. 

“So?”

“So?”

“Why am I here, Potter?” Regulus turns to look at him slowly, eyes tired. 

“I needed to talk to you.”

“As you mentioned.”

“Right.” 

“I can’t help your dad,” Regulus says cooly.

James’s heart twinges. He knows that. No one can, at this point. He doesn’t want to think about it. “I know. This isn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

James takes a steadying breath. “I want you to come home with me after this summer.”

Regulus just stares at him. Then he laughs. Sliding to the floor against the door Regulus grins breathlessly, eyeing James incredulously.
James frowns. Was it such an insane question? 

“You’re serious,” Regulus says, still smiling.

James nods cautiously. “...of course I am.”

“You never change, do you?”

James doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Does my brother know what you just asked me?”

James pauses. “...Not yet. But. He would approve, if he did.”

“Are you sure about that?”

No. “Yes.”

“And you’ve talked to him about it?”

“...Yes.”

“I thought you said you were a good liar.”

James gives up. “I also told you I can’t lie to you, so.”

The corners of Regulus’s mouth twitch and he nods in concession. Then… freezes. They both stop and stare at each other. James pauses. He never told Regulus he was a good liar, did he? And he certainly never said any of that other stuff. 

His head hurts. 

What…

What-

“What were we talking about?” James asks, confused. 

Regulus blinks. “You had some ridiculous proposition for me.” 

“Right. Yes. Yeah, you should come home with me. We have another bedroom upstairs, or, you know, mine’s always open.” James has to hold back a wink.

Regulus narrows his eyes. “That was… bad.”

“Maybe not some of my finer work.” James admits. “Still, though, I don’t hear you shutting me down. What if you just… get off the train with us?”

Regulus softens, and James feels something akin to hope start to flutter in his chest. “I can’t do that. You have to know that. Sirius-”

“Sirius will get over it.”

“Your parents-”

“You honestly think they haven’t suggested it before?”

“My parents, then.”

James stands up. “We can handle them.”

Regulus looks at him with sad eyes. “No you can’t. Not really.”

“You underestimate me.”

“They have the power of the Dark Lord and his army.”

James grimaces. “Good thing I’m planning on killing him, then.”

“James.”

“Potter’s over, then? I’m glad.”

“Why do you want me to go?”

James pauses. He hadn’t been expecting that one. Regulus watches him from near the door. James swallows. “Your hair.”

“My hair?”

“You cut it.”

Regulus reaches up subconsciously, fiddling with a curl. “I told you I would. It was getting too long.”

“For who?”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “My mother doesn’t like when it curls around my ears like that because I have to tie it back.”

James nods, taking a step forward. He’s getting closer, and Regulus isn’t going anywhere. “Exactly. But I liked it. I told you, didn’t I? It looks good back.”

There’s no mistaking the blush high on Regulus’s cheeks.

“And you liked it too. I could tell.” James tips his head, searching him. “Though, maybe you just liked that I liked it.”

Regulus lets out a small sound, shifting on his feet. “I- it got in the way.”

“Yeah, but not if you put it up like that.” 

“My mother-”

“Precisely.” James takes another few steps, splaying his hands. “Reg, come home with me. Come home with me and grow your hair long and tie it up whenever you like.”

“James,” Regulus says, eyes wide. 

“Please.” James moves even closer, reaching up to tuck a curl behind Regulus’s ear. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He doesn’t dare question why Regulus is letting him get this close. “Please.” 

Regulus’s lips part, eyes fixing on James’s. For a moment James can’t think of anything except the gentle warm gust of breath on his face and the flutter of Regulus’s eyelashes on his cheeks. He leans in. Regulus’s hands come up slowly, resting on James’s chest. Surely he must be able to hear how fast James’s heart is beating. 

For a moment, everything goes still. 

And then Regulus shoves. Hard. 

James stumbles back, catching his balance on a desk. He looks up, affronted and betrayed, already scowling. “That was so unnecessary.”

Regulus shrugs, but James doesn’t miss the shake in his hands or the pink in his cheeks. “I needed you to move.”

“You could’ve asked.”

“Somehow I doubt that would’ve worked.”

“That’s it. I’m retracting my offer.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Oh, you mean the super-realistic-not-ridiculous-at-all proposal?”

“Now I’m changing my mind back. You have to come with me.”

“Oh, I have to , do I?”

James frowns. “Well. Technically It’s your choice, but…”

“Exactly. I’m saying no.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t heard all the facts.”

“What else?”

James pauses, mind blank. “...I want you to come.”

Regulus stares at him. “Yeah, I got that bit,” he says eventually. 

James needs something else. He needs something more. “Your arm.”

Regulus’s face goes white as he backs up. “What?”

“Your arm.” James repeats. “You have the mark, don’t you.”

Regulus opens his mouth, closes it. Reaches over to grip his forearm. James nods. “Sirius told me.”

Regulus still says nothing, eyes wide.

“But. But I haven’t asked you about it.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I would- it just- I feel like I need to. It feels weird that I haven’t. So, I guess I’m asking.” He catches Regulus’s gaze, holds it. “Do you want it?”

“What?” Regulus’s voice comes out cracked and dry. 

“Do you want the mark? Really, truly, are you on his side?”

“It was my choice.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I had to choose-”

“Regulus.”

“I- you- leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” Regulus turns away, moving back to the door and trying the handle. 

“It’s not gonna open.”

“It might.”

“Just- please, love, just answer the question. Are you on his side?”

Regulus turns around, letting out a defeated sigh and meeting his eyes slowly. James sees the answer etched in every corner of his face. He grins. 

Then the door opens, and James’s life turns upside down.

“Mr. Potter?” McGonagall says, standing in the doorway. James looks up, smile slipping off his face.

No. 

Don’t. 

For a moment, for a fleeting, wonderful moment, she doesn’t speak. That moment holds everything and more, a beautiful and pure snippet of time. It’s like it's all suspended, floating in the air around them. This happiness at Regulus’s admission, the peace of the castle, the hope of it all, simply hanging around their heads. 

And then she does speak.

“Mr. Potter,” She repeats, eyes watery, and James knows. “I need you to come with me.”

No. 

Don’t. 

“It’s your father.”

Everything comes crashing down around them, emotions dropping and shattering on the floor at their feet. The moment is over.

And James- 

James can’t breathe. 

He can’t move even though McGonagal is still speaking, backing up and beckoning in a way that tells James it’s imperative he follows quickly. He doesn’t, though, because his feet are still stuck to the floor and there’s no air in his lungs. How’s he supposed to move with no air?

There’s a hand on his back, another on his arm. Someone is saying something. Someone he cares about. He should really pay attention. 

“James. James, breathe. You have to go.”

He can’t. He doesn’t.

“James, mon soleil, I’m so sorry. You have to move. Now.”

Mon soleil. That sounds nice. He turns to look at the person next to him, frightened and panting, still attempting to get anything into his lungs. Regulus stares back at him, eyes wide and deep and so so sad. “Go,” he whispers, rubbing James’s arm before pulling back. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

So James takes a shuddering breath and moves , following Mcgonagall out of the room and down the hall to her office, heart pounding and head fuzzy. Sirius is there, waiting at the fire, looking so scared that James has to resist the urge to hug him right then and there. They grab the powder from the bin McGonagal holds out to them and step in the fire at the same time, disappearing in a flash of green.

Godric's hollow is quiet. 

So quiet. 

James and Sirius tumble on to the carpet and move, scrambling up and running towards Monty’s bedroom. Effie’s waiting, and James distantly notices there are tears on her cheeks, doubled now that Sirius and James are there. She pulls them through the door and they skid to a stop, staring at the bed. 

Monty’s eyes drift to the doorway, dimly fixing on James’s. Every breath is a wheeze. There’s a doctor in the corner. “My boys,” he whispers, and each word sounds like it’s tearing through his throat, leaving nothing but decay in its wake.

James steps forward, already crying, already a mess. Already gone. “Dad.”

Notes:

oops! sorry monty but you knew it was coming
that was the last chapter that takes place at Hogwarts :( so I tried to include some fluff if you can believe it

that quote with remus was reminiscent of that one TikTok sound lol

Chapter 55: Merope

Regulus’s house is teeming with Death Eaters. 

It has been all summer, oftentimes every spare bedroom occupied in one way or another. He isn’t entirely sure how Number 12 Grimmauld Place became the back-up central hub for the Dark Lord, but his parents certainly aren’t complaining. They love the attention. They love the privilege of hosting for the cause. 

Regulus isn’t such a fan. With the extra people come extra eyes, watching him constantly. He can’t remember the last time they had dinner, just the three of them. 

“Regulus. Come here.” 

Regulus steps into the living room, sparring Narcissa a glance on the couch before focusing on his mother. “Yes?”

“Sit.”

He takes a cautious seat on the edge of the couch. She nods. “It’s come to our attention that your name has been listed as an official follower of the Dark Lord.” 

He blinks. “How… how did you find that out?”

“We have our ways.” She narrows her eyes. “You knew.”

He pauses. He’s not entirely sure what the best course of action is. “I… yes. Rabastian mentioned it.” It’s a shot in the dark, one he prays lands.

Walburga’s crisp stare reflects the moonlight streaming through the windows. “Is that the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you. I’m not entirely sure Rabastain has been told. I only found out yesterday, when the Dark Lord told Lucius, your father, and myself.”

Shit. Regulus shrugs casually. “Someone must’ve let him in on it, then.” He can see her reaching for her wand. He knows exactly what's coming.

And this time, he’s ready for it. 

“Legilimens.”

He doesn’t even close his eyes, just stares at her as she attempts to push her way into his head. Her magic pokes and prods, but she’s nothing compared to Bellatrix. His walls stay up, and his mother stays out. He can’t help but smirk, just slightly, when her brows pinch and she frowns, lowering her wand. 

It feels so fucking good to finally win. 

“You’ve been practicing.” She grits.

He shrugs. “I had a good teacher.”

“I don’t remember authorizing that.” 

“I do. We were at dinner.”

“I-”

“I told Rabastian,” Narcissa says from the couch. They both look at her. “Lucius told me, and I mentioned it to Rabby in passing.”

They lock eyes, and Regulus is almost certain there’s a small glimmer of pride there. He resists a smile.

“Alright,” Walburga says, settling her hands back into her lap. “Fine. Regardless, you must know what this means. You’ll be a target now. Dumbledore is no doubt well aware of your status. I imagine that’s one of the reasons the Dark Lord requested you not return to Hogwarts next year.”

“I know.”

“Members of the Order will know your face and stature. Be careful when out and about, and keep your face covered whenever you’re on official business. The more of us they identify, the easier it will be to track us down.” 

“Of course.” 

“Tu es très précieux. Vous êtes également en danger à cause de cela.”

“Oui, Maman. Je sais.”

She nods, looking him up and down. “Good. You’re dismissed.”

He turns and walks out, staring at the wood of the floorboards under his feet. He doesn’t notice someone’s following him till he’s shoved back against the wall, forcefully enough to temporarily knock the wind from his lungs. He instinctively pushes back but his hands are grabbed before he can, thoroughly pinned. He glares, huffing out air and trying to get a good look at his attacker.

It’s Dolohov, believe it or not. Carrow and Rookwood wait behind him, arms crossed.

“Get the fuck off me,” Regulus spits, but Dolohov doesn’t move.

“Don’t worry. We just want a quick chat.” Dolohov leans in. “You’re the Dark Lord’s little pet, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah, I think you are. We all know it. We all see the secret meetings you two have. What does he want from you?”

Regulus tries to push off the wall but Dolohov just shoves him harder. Regulus ignores the rising panic, glaring at Dolohov. “What do you care?”

“We just don’t think it’s far, s’all. Why should you get special treatment?”

“Maybe because I actually get shit done.”

The hand around his wrist squeezes tighter. “Really? From what I can tell you do nothing but make his little sleeping draughts and meet him in the office. You’ve only been on one mission, far as I’m aware.”

“Guess I’m just better than you.”

Carrow sneers. “We’re out there, in the field, getting our hands dirty. Look at this.” He stalks forward and rips one of Regulus’s wrists from Dolohov, holding it up. “Soft fingers. I don’t see any blood under these nails.”

“Aw,” Regulus says in fake sympathy. “Did mummy never teach you how to wash?” He kicks out again, but this time Dolohov uses his whole body to press Regulus against the wall. Carrow hisses and releases his hand in anger.

Regulus fights the wave of disgust that comes with so much contact.  

“So what is it?” Rookwood stalks forward. “Why do you do nothing and get all the attention while we have to make do with second hand orders?”

Regulus glares. “A non-atrocious personality goes a long way. Or maybe it’s 'cause I don’t smell.”

“Are you sucking his dick? Is that it?” Dolohov leans in to whisper, and Regulus can feel his breath, warm on the shell of his ear. He shudders under him, and knows the larger man feels it. “Is he making you his bitch?”

Regulus can’t move.

He needs to move. 

“I bet you’re good at it.” Dolohov smirks. “I bet-”

Then there’s a flash of white light and Dolohov is off him, reeling back in the corridor. Regulus lets out a choked gasp and stumbles forward, reaching for his wand.

Then he notices who sent the curse, and straightens up instantly. The Dark Lord stands in the doorway, tucking his wand into his robe. Severus Snape stands beside him, eyes wide. “Dolohov,” The Dark Lord rasps. “Care to explain what’s happening here?”

“So sorry, my Lord.” Dolohov ducks his head. “Black was saying some nasty things about you so I had to deal with it.”

The Dark Lord’s cool eyes find Regulus. “I’m perfectly capable of defending my own honor, Antonin.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Dolohov manages. “So sorry,” he says again.

The Dark Lord nods, eyes still on Regulus. “Would you care to join us, Mr. Black? I have something I’d like to discuss.”

Regulus nods, trying not to look too eager. He never thought the day would come that he’d be actually excited to speak to Voldemort. He steps away from the trio of goons quickly, following the Dark Lord as he turns and walks off. 

As soon as they’re out of sight Regulus lets out a long breath, taking a moment to pass a hand over his eyes as he tries to calm the swell of adrenaline spiking in his bloodstream. They stop in the hall outside his father’s study. He presses the back of his hand against his mouth, trembling. 

“Regulus,” The Dark Lord says, sounding impatient. “Were they seriously endangering you? If they hurt you-”

“I’m fine, my Lord.” Regulus ducks his head before something occurs to him and he hurriedly looks back up. “What Dolohov said, about me speaking against you, I’d never-”

“It’s alright, Mr. Black.” Voldemort sighs. “Antonin has struggled with jealousy for some time now.” 

Regulus nods. “Ah. Okay.” He spares a glance at Snape, who’s currently staring at him. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s he doing here?”

Snape immediately scowls and Regulus resists the urge to flip him off. The Dark Lord sighs. “I’ve brought Severus here to assist you in a project.”

“My Lord,” Regulus says instantly. “I’m perfectly capable-”

“I know you are. Severus is simply going to help with quantity. I need a large amount of protection potions, too many to make on one’s own. Severus offered his services.”

“I see. What kind of protection potions?”

“From gas, preferably. Something that coats the lungs. I suspect the Order plans on utilizing gaseous poisons. It’s what I would do.”

Regulus nods reluctantly. Protection potions. He can do that. At least he isn’t actively killing anyone. The Dark Lord looks them both up and down. “And you’re well?”

“I’m fine, my Lord.” Regulus lies. The Dark Lord nods once before turning and gliding off. 

“I expect the potions in two weeks,” he calls over his shoulder. Regulus just sighs. 

After a second of awkward silence he turns to look at Snape, frowning slightly. “You offered your services? ”

Snape immediately glares. “Shut up, Black. I’m here for the same reason as you.”

“I doubt that,” Regulus mutters, looking around. “Ok. Let's go to my room.”

“What the fuck?”

“We need to plan before we brew, idiot. I don’t have the ingredients to waste.”

They start walking, Snape jogging a bit to catch up. “Is it true? Are you not coming back to school next year?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” 

“Because I was asked not to.” Regulus pushes open his door, hating the sight of Snape in his room but enjoying the privacy that comes with a lock. He pulls out a notebook and recipe book, settling on the rug. He wants Snape nowhere near his bed. 

Snape wrinkles his nose before joining him cautiously. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Glad we agree.”

“I’m only doing this because the Dark Lord asked me too. I thought- I thought I’d be working on my own.”

“So did I.”

Snape huffs. He looks down. “Fine. Where do we start?”

They study for hours, talking as little as possible. Sometimes Snape makes a suggestion and Regulus doesn’t hesitate to shut it down. Other times it’s Regulus that offers an idea only for Snape to provide a surprisingly logical counter. Around three hours in, they’ve filled about half a notebook with ideas. 

They sit back against his bed, taking a break. Regulus asks Kreature to bring them some water as they stare at the wall across from them.

“Why weren’t Potter or other Black in school the last week?” Snape asks after a moment. He manages to spit James’s name with such a vicious fury Regulus is taken aback. 

Regulus blinks. “Potter’s father died.” 

“Oh.”

“Why’d you ask me?”

Snape fixes him with a stare. “You and Potter are quite close, aren’t you?”

Regulus blanches. “What? Why-”

“Remember that time I found you two after hours in the corridor that one time?”

“That was… so long ago.”

Snape shrugs. “Still. Interesting. Firepox, right?”

“Yeah.”

Regulus doesn’t tell him he tried to stop it. 

Doesn’t tell him his potions never fully worked, no matter how many trials they ran. 

Doesn’t tell him if he’d dedicated more time, if he’d tried a little harder, maybe something would be different. 

Doesn’t tell him that because he didn’t, because he let James let him go, because he refused him when he asked again, it’s his fault Monty died. 

“Dolohov,” Snape says suddenly. Regulus frowns.

“What about him?”

“Does he… do that often?”

The suppressed swell of disgust he’s been pushing down since the hallway incident comes crawling back up. He lets out a shaky breath, curling his hand into a fist on the floor. “No. That was an isolated incident. And- it’s fine. I had it handled.”

“Looks to me like you needed the Dark Lord to handle it for you.”

“I’ll have it handled, then.”

Snape stares at him. “What did he say to you? Right before we came in?”

“Nothing that matters.”

“They-” Snape lets out a frustrated huff, looking away. “I can’t believe you wern’t doing anything.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“I’m just saying- you have such this haughty, know it all, pretentious as fuck attitude at school, and here you just let yourself get shoved against walls and pushed around?”

Regulus wrinkles his nose. “You’re making it sound like-”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“Well.” 

There’s a sudden rap at the door and then the lock clicks and it swings open, revealing Walburga on the other side. “Are you ready for dinner?”

Regulus looks at Snape, trying to force his hand to relax. “Is Snape staying?”

“Yes.” Walburga furrows her brow. “Has the Dark Lord not told you?”

“...What?”

“Severus is staying with us for the two weeks it’ll take you to brew the potion the Dark Lord has requested.”

Regulus can do nothing but stare at her. “Is there room?”

“The guest bedroom on the third floor is empty.”

He doesn’t curse, but it’s a near thing. “No. No one mentioned that.”

“Well. Dinners on the table, Kreature is waiting. Move.”

They stand, pointedly not looking at each other as they follow Walburga down to the dining room. 

Dinner is a solemn affair, rarely broken by a comment or two about the food. Snape and Regulus eat across from each other, still hostile. Regulus keeps his fury to himself, but can’t help shooting the occasional long glance at the boy on the other side of the table. He misses Evan and Barty.

Why hadn’t anyone told him Snape would be staying? Why hadn’t they even told him this project was happening?

“Oh, I have news.” Lucius says, looking up from his plate. “Another mission was successful.” 

Regulus pauses, staring at his food. His stomach clenches. His father hums from the head of the table. “Good.” he says, swallowing some wine. “What happened?”

“It was an attack on an Order intel gathering mission. They were attempting stealth- well.” Lucius chuckles cruelly. “They were unsuccessful. No deaths, unfortunately, but… it was enough.”

“Who?” Orion asks casually.

Regulus can’t hear anything except the rushing in his ears. Not him, not him, not him, not-

“Longbottom and Dearborn. They’re both gravely injured- close to dead. They’re currently in St. Mungo’s. If we wanted to, we could probably send someone in, undercover, to finish the job.”

Regulus swallows, works on his breathing. Longbottom and Dearborn. No- Frank and Cardoc. He went to school with them. He saw them every day. They were in a lot of the same classes.

They’re only a year or two older than him. 

Regulus, unable to stop himself, looks across the table. Snape stares at his food with a sort of focused determination, but Regulus can see the hollow look in his eye. It’s detached, haunted, scared . When Snape looks up and meets his gaze, Regulus finds a whole lot of fear, and, hiding behind that- just a hint of sadness. Of anger. Its strength surprises Regulus, making him blink as they stare at each other. 

And that’s how Regulus figures out that Severus Snape is a traitor. 

No one who supports Voldemort’s cause would have that look in their eyes. Not after a mission as successful as this. No, they’d be more like Lucius- smirking, triumphant, twinkling with the elated air of someone who just won . Snape certainly isn’t twinkling. He just looks horrified. His hand is trembling on his fork.

Fascinating. 

Regulus looks back at his plate, pushing his food around quietly. Why was Snape here, if he's so disgusted by this kind of violence? What did he think he was getting himself into? 

“Regulus.” His mothers voice, stern as ever, sends him straightening up instantly. “Eat your food.”

“Oui Maman.”

“As-tu fait des progrès avec le potion?”

He exchanges a glance with Snape, who might not speak French but knows the word potion when he hears it. “Oui. Mais… ce n’est que le début.” He looks down at his plate. “May I be excused?”

She sighs, evidently giving up. “I suppose.”

Regulus looks back to Snape. “I’ll see you when you’re done?”

“Fine,” Snape says, still looking mildly ill.

Regulus nods and takes his leave, spending the rest of his evening working on better locking charms for his door. 

 

---

 

“Well. There are certainly a lot of flowers.”

James crosses his arms. “It’s… extravagant.”

Marlene hums. “That’s one way to put it.”

“My mother may have gone slightly overboard.”

“Potentially.”

Another garland of flowers blooms down the walkway at their feet, the smell of Effie’s magic hanging low in the air. “I think it’s nice,” Lily says, walking up next to them. “Very. Er. Flowery.” 

James looks down at her, smirking. “Flowery?”

She glares at him. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m so sorry, flower queen. Marlene, what do you think? Too much?”

“...No.”

“It’s definitely a bright event.”

“Breaking norms one petal at a time.”

“Yeah. Well. Dad always had Mum grow her flowers around his room.” James looks down at the petunias at his feet. “I like the smell.”

“It’s a nice smell,” Marlene concedes.

“I still think it’s sweet.” Lily says. James nods, watching as Effie moves to the front of the room, wand drawn. Flowers grow up the legs of the table next to her and then start to twine itself around the coffin on top of it. Bright pink against dark wood. 

He likes that. The flowers. He doesn’t like the vines that come with them. What if they wrap themselves around the hatch and then it can’t open? Monty wouldn’t be able to get out if he needed to. He’d be trapped in. 

It’s fine, James reminds himself. It doesn’t matter. Dad’s not going anywhere. It’s okay if there are flowers on his tomb. 

Still, he tenses when his mother sends another bout of roses and vines crawling across the coffin. Maybe he should stop her. Just in case. 

He takes a step forward.

There’s a hand on his arm, and Lily points to the bar. “You think they’ll serve us?”

“Of course.” James snorts. “It’s my father’s funeral. They’ll give me anything I want.”

The bar, to no one's surprise, does serve them. However, true to the theme of the event, all drinks are fruity and light. Walking away while sipping on some purple sparkly concoction, James looks around for Sirius.

“Do you know where Pads is?”

“He and Remus disappeared a bit ago. Why?”

“Just wondering.” 

Lily casts a tempus charm. “Guests will be arriving soon.”

James swallows. Nods. Adjust his robes. “Okay.”

He can feel Lily’s eyes on him. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, good. Lets… let’s get this over with.” 

Lily catches his arm as Marlene drifts away. “James.”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

He can feel his smile slipping, just a bit. “I…”

“Come on. We have time.” They put their drinks down before she pulls him through a door and down a hallway, taking a seat on the floor and looking up at him. He joins her after a moment. “It must be a lot,” She says softly. “It’s only been three and a half weeks. It’s okay to still be feeling it.”

James lets out a dry laugh. “I imagine I’ll be feeling it for a long time yet.”

“Probably.” She hums, green eyes fixed on the wall opposite them. “When Petunia and I were younger, our cousin died. Cancer, if you can believe it.”

James blinks. “Cancer?”

“It’s a muggle disease. It’s… horrible. There’s no cure.” She smiles, dropping her chin and shaking her head. “It must be so lovely living in a world without it.”

“I’m sorry,” James offers quietly. “Were you close?”

“Yeah, actually. She lived next door to us. My aunt… we had family dinners, every night. My cousin would attend less and less of them until one day she just… didn’t show up anymore. We went next door and ate around her bed after that.”

She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s the hard thing about an illness, isn’t it? Watching them waste away and knowing there’s nothing you could do to save them.”

“I should’ve tried,” James whispered. “When I first found out. Why the fuck didn’t I try? Why didn’t I do anything? That’s so… unlike me. What was I thinking?”

“There was nothing to be done.”

“But I didn’t even try,” James says.

“The doctors tried a lot of things for my cousin. Chemotherapy, medicine, different cures. There were a lot of new breakthroughs surrounding cancer at the time, just… not enough. Sometimes there isn’t anything anyone can do. Nature will have its way.”

“Could we… with magic, I mean, do you think-”

She shakes her head, letting out a long sigh. “I thought of that. I’ve asked. Cancer’s incurable- magic or no. I used to think, you know, maybe if I’d known I was a witch sooner I could’ve…”

“No,” James says instinctually, ducking his head to try and see her face. “Don’t do that. You couldn’t have known. And you said it yourself- there was nothing to be done.”

“It took me a long time to realize that.” She looks up at him, eyes fixed on his. “That’s what I meant earlier. It’s okay if it takes you time to realize there’s nothing you can do.” 

He lets out a long sigh. “I just wish I tried.” Because why wouldn’t he? He asked Regulus to make a cure when it was probably already far too late. He should’ve acted sooner. God, he thinks, I could’ve done something.

Lily nudges him gently. “You know there’s a reason you’re in Gryffindor, right?”

“Hm?”

“If there was an angle, you would’ve found it. Don’t blame yourself for the inevitable.”

“But-”

“You don’t need to save everyone, all the time.”

“I could’ve at least saved my dad.” He looks away. “I could’ve at least tried.”

“You’re one of the most optimistic, hopeful people I know. Try not to lose that to the war.”

“I won’t.” 

“Won’t you?”

He shakes his head and she nods approvingly. “Good. I admire you for what you do, so much. Just try and remember to leave a little saving for yourself sometimes.” 

They go quiet for a while, just breathing in the silence of the corridor. James can hear the guests start to file into the seats out in the main room. He looks down at her, ever grateful. “I used to be in love with you.” he says softly. “What happened?”

She smiles, eyes slightly watery. “We grew up,” she says, shrugging.

James nods, focusing on the wall across from them. “I suppose we did.” A pause. “Did you ever…”

“Not in the way you wanted me to.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, James.” She looks at him. “Nothing to be done.”

The ceremony turns out sweet. Nice. Gentle. Everyone smiles, teary and weak but genuine all the same. His mother talks for a while, her soft voice carrying over the crowd. She looks at James when she’s done, raising her brows in a final confirmation that he has no intention to speak. He shakes his head and she nods, taking her seat in the audience. Sirius squeezes his hand. The flowers above them rain down petals.

It’s nice. 

It’s pretty. 

And James has nothing pretty to say. 

Which is why, after the coffin has been lowered into the ground and most of the guests have wandered away, James leans against Monty’s headstone and pulls out a joint. “I know you wouldn’t care,” he says around the spliff hanging from his lips. “But I still feel a little guilty. Maybe don’t mention it, yeah?”

Monty, naturally, says nothing. James takes it in stride and fishes out a muggle lighter. The smoke feels good in his lungs. “I… ah. I’m sorry I didn’t speak, Dad. I probably should’ve. Mum wanted me to.” He shoves a hand into his robes pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. “I wrote a speech,” he says, smiling weakly. “It’s not very good.”

He unfolds it with slightly shaking hands, persistently ignoring the slowly growing black hole in his chest. “It’s hardly legible, honestly.” He takes a drag, scanning the paper. “Mm. Yeah, no.”

He shoves the parchment back into his pocket and looks down at the coffin in the grave below him. “Are you alright?” He manages, staring. “Is it ok if they put dirt on you? I know- I know I’d hate that. To be smothered like that forever.”

Monty says nothing.

“When I die, I want to be cremated. Spread about on the wind, maybe from a broom.” James attempts a smile. “None of this dirt business.” he looks down, clearing his throat and kicking gently at the ground. He can feel the tears gathering behind his eyelids. “I’m, uh, sorry that the doctor’s potions weren't good enough. I really thought- well. I really thought I could save you, Dad. I’m so sorry I didn’t pull through.” His shoulders shudder and he takes a long drag, coughing slightly. The dark, angry thing that’s been brewing in his chest for the past three weeks starts to raise its ugly head. “I wish you would’ve told me they were hurting sooner. We could’ve talked to the doctors. We could’ve figured it out.” He sighs, long and tired.

“Then again, you were pretty dead-set on this, weren't you?” He grimaces. Poor choice of words. “I mean you were pretty insistent that we just let you die. I hope. I hope that worked out for you how you wanted it to.”

“Honestly, I bet you’re happier now.” James sinks into a squat. “That sounds awful, but I’m sure you understand.” He pauses, looking down. “Do you want me to cry? Would that… I don't know. Is that fitting? It’s a funeral, so. Probably. Sorry.” he sighs. “It’s just… I did a lot of crying, initially. Like, a lot. And now… I don't know. Now I have things to say.”

The coffin below him stays horribly still. 

“Uh. I think I’m lucky, in a way. Like- I knew you were going to die. I knew for a while. I think I knew when I first found out you got sick. Not that that makes it better, but… it may have made it easier, at least. Is that weird?” James looks away. “I don’t even… I don’t know what I’m talking about right now. Whatever.” He stares at the coffin for a long moment, then drops his voice to a whisper. “Do you think… I mean, is that feeling going to go away now? Was it you? Was I just… internalizing this is some weird fucked up way? Is my head going to clear up?” He feels a bit guilty, laying this all out at his fathers grave, but still. He needs to say it sometime.

He looks up, biting his lip. “I guess not. Oh, look. There’s Sirius. Hey, Pads!”

He waves Sirius over, shuffling sideways to make room for him next to the grave. Sirius sinks down next to him, staring at the coffin. His hair is wrapped up in a tight bun, the pieces that have gradually fallen out tucked securely behind his ears. “What’chu up to?”

“Just… you know. Having a chat.”

“Ah. I see. Hey Monty. How’s it going?”

When Monty, fairly predictably, doesn’t reply, Sirius lets out a breath. They go quiet for a moment. “I wish it was Orion in there.”

“Yeah?” James smiles faintly. “Me too.”

“I would be significantly happier right now.”

“Wouldn’t we all.”

“One day,” Sirius sighs, and James laughs.

“One day.” he agrees.

Sirius pauses. “Do you think there were too many flowers?”

James chuckles, ducking his head. He passes Sirius the joint. “Uh. Yeah, honestly, but it makes Mum happy and I know Dad would never mind. He’d probably love it.”

Sirius takes a drag. “True.”

James and Sirius sit for a long time. The guests leave at some point, drifting by the grave to say their goodbyes to both Monty and the boys. Marlene lingers for a bit, sitting and talking with them as the sunlight fades. Then she too disappears and Effie finally comes to get them.

“They’re going to fill it in,” she says, nodding to the grave. Her eyes are red, but she doesn’t look sad. Not really. Not entirely. 

“Oh.” James and Sirius stand, shuffling back as the grave diggers raise their wands to lower the dirt back into the grave. 

When the coffin disappears, James does cry. And when Effie wraps her arms around them both, so does Sirius.

All together, it’s a good funeral.

 

---

 

The graveyard’s cold at night. Regulus isn’t entirely sure if it’s the hour of the evening or just the nature of the place casting a chill across the grounds. The dirt over Monty’s grave is still fresh, aromatic and dark against the grass. There are flowers blooming across the entire thing, vines wrapping themselves around the headstone and bursting into peonies that make the morbid stone surprisingly beautiful. The smell of warm and gentle magic exudes from each petal.

Regulus stares at the tomb, choking on all that effort. All that love.

In comparison, the blood-red roses in his hand feel limp and lifeless. He lays them by the grave anyway, crouching down to arrange them in a way he hopes doesn’t clash with the rest of the tomb. He casts a charm to make them last, then sits back on his heels.

“Hi,” He whispers softly, feeling slightly stupid. “Uh. I don’t know if it’s weird to talk to you like this. I doubt you can hear me.” he looks down. “I just. I thought I should stop by. I feel like I’ve known you, even if we never met. James talked so much about you.”

He adjusts a peony, smiling as another one blooms beside it. “Your grave is beautiful,” he says softly. “Did Euphemia do this? Did James?” He runs a thumb over a dark green leaf. His smile falters. “You don’t know me. Not really. I know your son. I helped brew those potions he made you take. I don’t know if he told you about me. He probably did.” Emotion pushes against his throat, forcing him to swallow down ancient and long lost memories. “He always wanted to shout our love from the rooftops. I never let him.”

“Anyway. I just. I thought I should say I’m sorry. Don’t worry.” He leans his head back, stares at the sky. “I won't disgrace  your graveside too much longer. I just… I don’t know. Thought I should say goodbye. And apologize.”

He smiles against the night as another flower blooms from the earth. The care in this grave, the light, is astonishing. It smells, not necessarily like James specifically, but what he imagines the Potter household to smell like. Gentle and comforting, slightly magnetic. The same way it feels to be tucked in James’s arms. “You were loved,” Regulus whispers as softly as he can manage. He reaches out to cup the flower. “So loved.” The night’s silence wraps around him again, making him pull his jumper a little tighter and cross his arms against the chill. 

“Reg?”

Regulus goes still, looking up at the stars above the chapel. The moon shines above the cross, a steady pulsing light against the darkness of the graveyard. He takes his time turning around, allowing himself the peace of the night. There’s no rush, he thinks. Whatever will happen has already become inevitable. 

“Sirius.”

His brother stares at him, dark mourning robe making him look ghostly in the pale light. His hair is pulled back into a low tight bun, putting his sharp face on full display. His eyes, deathly familiar, bore into Regulus. “What are you doing here?” There’s a hint of accusation in his tone. 

Regulus stands slowly, wiping his hands. “I just wanted to pay my respects,” he says softly, motioning to the roses by the grave. Sirius stares.

“Oh.”

“Why are you still here?”

“Effie and James are just… cleaning up inside. I thought I’d have one last moment.” 

Regulus looks towards the chapel. “I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

“Wait.”

Regulus freezes. He didn’t expect that.

Sirius walks towards him, sinking into a seat by the grave. He reaches out and brushes the roses with the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t think you knew him.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Ah.”

Regulus looks down at him. “Why are you still here, Sirius?”

Sirius lets out a soft sigh, humming gently. “Everyone else is inside,” he says, and Regulus thinks he understands.

In this moment, in this one singular point in time, it’s just them. There are no eyes, no judging friends or classmates to pick over their every interaction. It’s like that time they met in the astronomy tower- private and just theirs. The rules are different here.

So Regulus takes a seat next to him, and for a minute, they breathe the same air. Each breath, each silent inhale, fills something deeper inside him than he cares to look.

When they were little, really little, their parents would put them in the same bed and Sirius would wrap himself around baby Regulus, pressing their chests together. Regulus would fall asleep to the feeling of Sirius’s lungs expanding and contracting, his own personal lullaby. This, he thinks, is the closest he’s ever going to get to that feeling.

“Maman’s stopped showing me my boggart,” Regulus says. He doesn’t know why he brings it up, but it feels relevant, and, anyway. They’ve never been ones for subtlety. 

“Why?”

Regulus shrugs lightly. “No point.”

“Is it still the same?”

Regulus’s silence is damning enough.

“Mine changed back.” Sirius says, and Regulus thinks he might make some sort of choked little noise in the back of his throat. He grips the grass at his side, staring at the grave in front of them.

“Did Potter do something unforgivable, then?” He forces out, trying not to drown in the insinuations packed into the bombshell Sirius just dropped on him. 

“He’s still there.” Sirius sighs. “There’s a whole pile of bodies now. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Not… really.”

“I think it is.” Sirius nods after a moment, more to himself than Regulus. “James told me once. He said ‘how lucky you are that you have so many people to miss’.”

James once told Regulus his boggart was Sirius and Regulus covered in blood and torn apart on the floor. Regulus wonders what it is now. “Well.”

“I’m glad she stopped, though. I hated those days.” 

Regulus knows. “We don’t talk much at all anymore, really. She keeps to herself.”

“Good.”

The stars glint above them- slightly mocking but entirely honest, as stars tend to be. 

Sirius lets out a shuddering breath. “Are you really not coming back to school?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Did she ask you to, or did he?”

Regulus digs his fingers deeper into the dirt. He wonders if he reaches all the way down, will he find another hand, cold and skeletal, to pull him into the ground? He wonders how much of a fight he’d put up if it did. “It’s not her mark on my arm, is it?”

Sirius hums. “Can I see it?”

Regulus pauses, taken aback. With steady fingers, he pulls up his sleeve. He isn’t afraid to show Sirius his mistakes. He’s certain his brother has already committed each and every one to memory. 

Cool fingers take a hold of his forearm, turning it left and right under the moonlight. The skull and snake look out of place against the flowery tower that is Monty’s grave. 

Then Sirius keeps pulling his sleeve up, higher and higher, till he pushes it past Regulus’s shoulder. Regulus can’t move, finding himself frozen to the spot.

He’s certain Sirius remembers all of Regulus’s mistakes. He isn’t so sure about Sirius’s own. A thumb, far too gentle for the situation, for their relationship, runs over the scars coating Regulus’s shoulder. 

“Did they hurt?” Sirius asks, and Regulus can hear the tremble in his voice. “Or- how badly?”

“Not too bad,” Regulus says, finding himself wanting to alleviate Sirius’s guilt. It isn’t his fault. Not entirely. “They aren’t deep. They weren’t meant to hurt. Just to scar.” This, at least, Regulus is telling the truth about. The cuts never hurt as much as the sight of them did. 

“Why didn’t I notice?”

Regulus shrugs. Sirius’s hand falls away from his shoulder. “You had your own things going on. And Walburga can be discreet.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Well.”

“You said she had a silencing charm on you?”

Regulus winces. “I might’ve misled you about that one.”

He can feel Sirius’s hard gaze, pinned to his every facial expression. “Then why, Reg?”

Regulus tugs on the grass, pulling it up in bunches like a little kid. Everything in him aches. “At first, I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“And then?”

“And then. And then I didn’t want you to leave.”

He knows Sirius is watching him. Hell, even the stars seem to bare down with extra force. He glances at the chapel, just to ensure they remain in this odd bubble. He likes it here, even if he’ll regret everything later. Sirius breaks the silence. “You thought if you told me, I’d leave?”

Regulus looks away. “I’d hear you talking, or I’d read your letters to Potter, and the things you’d say to me… You always wanted to go, didn’t you? You told James once you were only staying for me.” The memory burns, aches, stabs as nothing has before. He remembers holding the letter in his hand, staring down at the words with watery eyes. Gripping the parchment so tight it shook. 

“I… you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“But I did.” Regulus shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself. “I knew I was the only thing tying you to that house. So…”

“Tell me you didn’t, Reg.” Sirius says, evidently unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. “Tell me you wouldn’t.”

The admission feels like a precipice, a cliff, something not to be descended but to be fallen off of, crashed down, torn apart by. After a moment of indecision, Regulus steps off the ledge. “I thought if you knew your actions were hurting me, if you realized you weren’t entirely protecting me as you thought, you’d have nothing keeping you there anymore.”

“So you didn’t tell me.”

Regulus nods. “So I didn’t tell you.”

Sirius draws his knees to his chest, burying his head between them. “I can’t fucking belive you.” 

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.” Sirius turns his face to glare at him, eyes red. “Yes, I can. Do you know how manipulative- do you know how many hours- how much torture-”

Regulus feels his insides crumbling. “There you go.”

“What?”

“You said it. You would’ve left earlier if you’d known.”

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, I might’ve. And it might’ve saved us both a hell of a lot of pain.”

Regulus blinks furiously, staring straight ahead. He wants Sirius to understand. He wants him to get it without making Regulus say the words, like he used to. “I knew it,” he whispers.

“So you just… what? Endured?” Sirius spits, and each word hurts so much more than he thinks it does. 

“I needed you to stay,” Regulus says, determinedly ignoring the crack in his voice. “I needed- fuck, Sirius, I was perfectly capable of taking some paper cuts to the arm if it meant I wasn’t alone in that house.”  

Sirius goes still, blinking at him. He looks slightly confused, a little surprised. “I would’ve taken you with me. Wait. You do know that’s what I meant, right? I wouldn't have stayed, and you wouldn’t have either. I would’ve gotten us both out.”

Regulus frowns deeply. “No. That’s not-”

“I would’ve done something. I would’ve stopped them. I mean- whatever I had to do, I would’ve done it. My entire life’s mission was to keep you safe. That’s all I cared about. That’s all I care-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You don’t mean that. If you meant that, you wouldn’t have left.”

“You know I had to go. You know I was always going to go. They were killing me, Reg.” 

The worst part, the absolute worst part, is Sirius is right. They were killing him. If he’d stayed, he’d never have had a chance.

“I know.” Regulus bites his lip. “I just… I just wanted a little more time before you did.”

“You screwed me over too, you know? By keeping me there. Every ache, every pain, that was all partially on you.”

“You could’ve left earlier.”

“No, I couldn’t. Not while-“

“Not while what?”

“Not while I thought you were still worth saving.”

“Fuck.” Regulus thinks he might throw up. “Sirius.”

“No- no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Not like that. That’s sounds- that sounds worse than I wanted it to.”

Regulus says nothing.

“It was always the plan,” Sirius whispers again, and Regulus thinks he might be talking entirely to himself. “I was always going to leave.”

Regulus nods. “And was I ever a part of that plan?”

Sirius sucks in a breath. “Yes,” He says, and to his credit, it’s almost immediate. “Always. If you had told me, we could’ve gotten out together, James would’ve taken us both-”

“That never would’ve worked. They might’ve let you go, but the both of us? To lose both their heirs? That would’ve been unacceptable.” He blinks, harsh against the dark of the night. “I never felt like… It never felt like you were thinking about me too.”

“I was. I was until you cut my chest open on the carpet.”

Regulus curls his fingers in the dirt. “I was imperioed.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t know that, did I?”

“You never even considered it. You immediately thought-”

“Of course I considered it. Only- I thought it would’ve been Walburga. And we both know how easy her curse is to throw off. I never even thought about Orion.”

“Right.”

Sirius lets out a long sigh, folding his arms over his knees and laying his head on them, turning it sideways so he can look at Regulus. “Besides. You always- you always shut me down. Even just now. You've always done that. I just assumed you didn’t want to try. After a while I gave up mentioning it.”

“It wouldn't have worked.” That's the truth. Regulus trusts that much, at least. His parents would never have let both of them go. 

Sirius lets out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. You said.”

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to be left behind.”

“That’s not fair. You weren’t left behind. You chose to stay.”

“I didn’t-”

“Did you come looking for me? Did you show up on James’s doorstep?”

“I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t know that, though. Not for sure. You didn’t even try.”

And Regulus… Regulus knows he’s right. 

But. 

But he couldn’t. 

“Why do you never tell me things, Reg? Why did it take so long to find out you’d been imperioed? Why wouldn’t you tell me immediately? I would’ve thought about it, we could’ve talked, I could’ve forgiven you-”

Regulus shakes his head, violent. “I was angry. I didn’t want your forgiveness.”

“Angry enough to get the mark?” Sirius says, voice hard, gaze aggressive. This was no longer just a talk. This was something worse. “Angry enough to follow Voldemort? Fucking Voldemort ? Angry enough to help kill innocent people?”

Regulus would tell him about Monty. He would, honestly. It’s the time. It’s certainly the place. But James’s face pops into his head and he remembers all the reasons that would be a bad idea. So, instead: “I- that night the Dark Lord took me, I saved two little girls he wanted me to kill.”

“Well. Good on you for not murdering children, Reg.”

“No. You don’t- you don’t get it.”

“I get enough.” Sirius shakes his head. “I never thought- I mean. The worst part of all this is not that you have that mark on your arm, it’s that you wanted it. I mean, you have to, right? That’s what Maman always said.” 

Regulus stares at him. “You called her Maman.”

“Merlin, Reg, that’s what you took from that? How far gone are you?”

“I didn’t kill them,” He says softly. He doesn’t think anyone understands the weight of that sentence. They don’t understand how fucked he’d be if the Dark Lord found out. How dead.

“Godric,” Sirius spits, and Regulus feels each word like venom, eroding his skin and burning holes into his skeleton. “I can’t believe you tolerate any of this. I can’t believe- how are we related? Honestly? Give me any excuse you want, Reg, but you’re a horrible person for even looking Voldemort in the eye. You listen to them make their plans, even help on some of them. You- you tolerate it. You’re a Death Eater. You’re a Death Eater. I don’t know why the weight of that is only hitting me now. My baby brother is a Death Eater.” Sirius laughs, and the sound cracks and tears down the middle. His eyes are swimming, angry and red. Regulus distantly wonders how he has any tears left, it being the night of Monty’s funeral and all. Then he stops thinking about that, and focuses on Sirius’s words.

He doesn’t know the line- doesn’t know how far they’re going. But the others are still in the chapel and the stars are still out, so Regulus figures now is as good a time as any. His chest feels raw, in a way he wasn’t expecting. The waters around him rise, swallowing his knees and waist. He wonders when he’ll go under. “I know. I know that this- all this- it’s wrong. You think I don’t hate the Dark Lord? You think I don’t hate everything about this system? About myself? I could give two fucks about blood supremacy. But I was so scared, Sirius. I was so scared. And you weren't there to help me through it. I made the best choice for myself because I had no other options. You were gone. You were gone, and I was alone, and I was scared.” Regulus can’t breathe, both hands buried in the grass, torso turned towards his brother. His throat feels raw, like he’s been breathing smoke. Like he’s been swallowing water. 

“I only left last year,” Sirius whispers, eyes wide.

Regulus shakes his head. “Not really, though. Not really. You left when you were eleven and boarded that train and met James Potter. That’s when you left.”

“You- you don’t support him?” And Sirius looks so, so hopeful. 

Regulus laughs, bitter and aching. Distantly, he wonders if he should tell Sirius about his plan- or whatever the weird twisted concept he’s been thinking over can be called. He wonders if he should get it over with, lay every part of him bare for Sirius to pick over and judge as a whole. He so wants to. Fucked up as their relationship may be, they’re still siblings, and that burning, all consuming desire to prove his brother wrong has never fully exited that special place in his chest. But Regulus is a logical person, and he knows what would happen. He knows Sirius would want to help. His brother is a Gryffindor- it’s like he looks for battles to throw himself into. Regulus refuses to let him get himself killed. Not after everything he’s done to keep him alive. Not after Saskia. 

Besides, right now he has the asset of unpredictability. Sirius is a known member of the Order, Regulus is a known Death Eater. One of them has the element of surprise on their side, one of them doesn’t. Regulus plans to use it to his advantage. 

So, once again, for the millionth time, he keeps his mouth shut. “No.” He says simply. “No, I don’t support him.”

Sirius lets out a long breath. His eyes glint bright. Then words are tumbling out of him, long overdue and rushed, like there’s no more room for them inside. “Then come with me. Come with me. We’ll put you up at James’s. I can get you out, Reg. Let me get you out.”

And somehow, even though that’s the one thing Regulus has been waiting to hear since last year, it still hurts like a knife in the stomach. Like a cut on the shoulder. “I can’t,” he whispers, and watches Sirius’s face fall. “I need to stay. I need to be near him.” 

The fragile moment of hope comes crashing down around them, a bubble broken. 

“That’s- fuck. Okay. I don’t- I can’t.” Sirius drags his hands over his face. He looks tired, Regulus thinks. He must’ve had a long day. “So you don’t agree with him yet you won’t do anything about it, because you need to be near him. Okay.”

Regulus stares at him. “I told Dorcas I’d do whatever it takes to make it through this war alive. This is what it takes.”

“That’s such a Slytherin thing to say.”

“Funny how that works out, huh?” 

“Okay.” Sirius says again. “Okay, I don’t think I can do this anymore. You’re not coming with me?”

“I’m not coming with you.”

Sirius nods, and Regulus just watches him. When Sirius stands, Regulus rises too. Sirius won’t (can’t?) look at him, staring up at the night sky. “I think you should go,” he croaks. “I want to- I need to be alone. I need to say goodbye to Monty.”

Regulus says nothing, nodding and taking a step back. Sirius keeps his face turned away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Thanks for the flowers,” Sirius says eventually. “They look nice.”

Regulus backs up more, heart in his throat. Everything burns, but it feels good to have it out. It’s freeing, in an oddly horrible sort of way. He should consider being honest more often. The waters, everpresent, recede a bit. 

Regulus is angry. Of course he’s angry. He’ll always be angry, at least a little, at his brother for leaving. But, to his deep chagrin, he understands. He really does. He thinks of Sirius, laying bleeding on that carpet, believing everyone he loved betrayed him. Of course he’d run the second he got a chance. He’d be stupid not to. 

Regulus wants him alive. He’s gone to such great lengths, made such horrible choices, just for him- and yet the one decision that really kept his brother safe was Sirius’s own. He can’t fault him for that. 

Both Sirius and Regulus chose to live. And they hate each other for it. 

Sirius says nothing else. Neither of them do. Instead Regulus sends one last look at the chapel, sends one last thought out to James, and turns on the spot, disappearing into the night. 

When he makes it back to his room he collapses onto the bed. He thinks it’ll take a while to get to sleep, but his eyes fall closed the second his head hits the pillow. 

It was nice, he thinks as he drifts, to see his brother. 

 

--- 

 

Snape, in Regulus’s opinion, spends too much time in Regulus’s room. He doesn’t have a choice, of course, but that hardly matters. They spend hours each day bent over books and parchments, ink stains blooming across the carpet. 

They make progress at a surprising rate, and by the fifth day they’re ready to start brewing. Before that can happen, though, Regulus has a hypothesis he needs to put to the test. 

“Kreature,” he summons, not looking up from his notes. 

A pop. “Yes, Master?”

“Can you bring Snape and I some tea, please?”

“Of course.” Kreature gives Snape a truly malicious look before vanishing. 

Snape frowns, narrowing his eyes at the elf before focusing back on his work. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Can you blame him?”

“I’m literally working with you. I don’t get it. What’s his issue?”

Regulus shrugs, running a hand through his hair in an effort to get it away from his face. “We should re-write the final recipe. Do you have good handwriting?”

“...You should do it.”

“Right.”

Kreature appears with the tea, setting it in front of them and eyeing Regulus with squinted, narrow eyes. “Will Master Regulus be requiring anything else?”

“That’s all, Kreature, thank you.” 

They drink their tea in silence while Regulus starts copying down the messy recipe they scribbled in the margins of their potion book. After he gets about halfway he pauses, looking up. “Enjoying the tea?”

“Yes.” Snape says immediately. Then he looks up, confused. “I mean-”

“How do you usually take your tea?”

“Milk and three sugars,” Snape says, like the words are being yanked from his mouth involuntarily. His eyes find Regulus’s, and go cold with anger. “Usually with a little less Veritaserum.”

Regulus winces apologetically. “I’m testing something.”

“You fucking spiked my tea?” Snape is trembling with anger now, and there, just there, not a small amount of fear. 

“I learned from the best.” Regulus says, hoping Snape doesn't do something rash like knock over the ink pot onto their notes. “Why does it matter? Do you have something to hide?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Regulus hums, looking the other boy over. He doesn't know how to approach this. He has a suspicion- but that’s all it is. He based it off a single look, shared over a dining room table. If he’s wrong… maybe this is too risky. 

No. He needs to know. And even if he's wrong, it wouldn't hurt to get a better read on Snape's intentions. He can always just say it’s a loyalty test. It is, in a way. 

“Do you want to be making this potion?”

“No.” And then: “Shut up. Stop talking. I can’t believe- I- you’ll never get away with this.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Regulus raises his brows as Snape shrinks back in shame, seemingly trying to melt into the wall behind him. “A pacifist. I see.” He smirks, only letting himself relish a little in the power currently resting in his hands. He leans in for the kill. “Do you support the Dark Lord?”

Snape claps a hand over his mouth, shoving himself farther away from Regulus. “No,” he spits, perfectly audible even through his fingers. 

And that.

That’s something. 

He thought that maybe Snape just didn’t like the idea of anyone getting hurt. At the most, he thought he was just hesitant about his role in all of this. But this, a total detestation for the Dark Lord, isn’t what Regulus was expecting.

Regulus smiles, slow and cruel. Snape looks terrified. “Are you a spy for the Order?”

“N-No.” Snape chokes out, starting forward. “Regulus, please-”

“Why not?”

“I want to gain his trust before I go to them. I need to have more to offer.” Snape says miserably, slumping back.

“Ah. That- yeah. That makes sense.” Regulus nods. “So- why don’t you support the Dark Lord?”

“Lily Evans is a muggleborn. I need her alive.”

Oh.

Huh. 

“I see,” Regulus says slowly, studying the dark red flush creeping up Snapes cheeks. “That’s all?”

“It’s enough.”

“I guess it must be.”

“Regulus,” Snape manages, and he sounds so broken. So defeated. “Regulus. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll go, I’ll never come back, just please. Please don’t tell anyone. I can’t- he’d kill me.”

Regulus blinks. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy Snape begging for mercy.  “I won’t.” He says carefully. 

Snape goes still. “You won’t?”

“No.”

They stare at each other. Something passes between them. Regulus hums. “Do you want him to succeed?”

Snape shakes his head, and Regulus nods. “Right.” He takes a steadying breath. This is where it counts, he supposes. “I’m going to kill him,” he says, and enjoys the look of complete and utter surprise on Snape’s face. Regulus isn’t entirely sure why he told him. Maybe he just wanted it out, preferably said to someone alive. 

A beat. 

Another. 

No one moves. No one speaks.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Snape blinks. “Really?”

“Yes. Or- or I’m going to figure out how, at least. Find someone who can.”

“You’re a traitor?”

Regulus frowns. “So are you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the heir to the Black throne. Though, maybe that makes sense, considering your brother.”

Regulus doesn’t like that one bit. “I’m not doing this to spite my family.”

“Then why?”

Regulus pauses. “...Same reason as you, I guess.”

Snape nods, beady eyes fixed on Regulus’s face. “I see.”

“Why did you decide to come here, then? If you didn’t support him? Why not stay away?”

“I couldn’t… I mean. If there was something I could do, I couldn’t just sit by. And besides, as a Slytherin in this day and age, I had a special opportunity. It would be more suspicious to join the Order than the Death Eaters and besides. I don’t think they’re going about this the right way.” He pauses, grimacing. “I forgot about this stupid potion. I hate you. Did you have to-”

“Would you have told me the truth otherwise?”

“No.” Snape bites his lip. “You- this isn’t a trick? You really- I find it hard to believe that you-”

“It’s not a trick.”

“You have the mark.”

Regulus flinches. “I had- that- yeah. Well. That was part of it.”

“How do you mean?”

“I couldn’t very well refuse it. Not if I wanted to seem fully committed to this.” And besides, it’s not like his parents would exactly let him go without it. 

“Your friends. Do they know?”

Regulus holds his gaze. “No.”

“So they’re really committed, then.”

“In some way or another.”

Snape frowns. This is a lot to take in, Regulus thinks. Probably. He isn't sure. He’s been processing all of this for the past year. “I can’t… I don’t trust you,” Snape says. “How can I?”

“Look.” Once Regulus has started being honest, it’s hard to stop. It feels so fucking good to finally share this with someone. He turns to his bed, lifting the bedskirt and pulling out the fabric bundle. He unwraps it carefully, trying not to look at the yellowing fangs. He hates the sight of them, clings to what they represent. “These are basilisk fangs. I’m saving them. The Dark Lord has no idea.”

Snape blinks. “What the fuck do basilisk fangs have to do with anything?”

“Ah,” Regulus says, then proceeds to explain all he’s learned about Horcruxes and dark magic. He sits back and drinks the rest of his (unspiked) tea as he speaks. 

When he’s done, Snape is staring at him with horrified eyes. “You… that’s… what ?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “What part do you need clarifying?”

“He… he split his soul? There’s something out there, probably an object- if you’re right about this- that has half his soul?”

“Well,” Regulus says, and thinks of his conversation with Saskia. “I’m not sure about half. Sa- someone told me that you can do it multiple times. I don’t know how many.”

“So he has, what, an undetermined number of objects floating around with sections of his soul inside them? And thus, he’s immortal?”

“Only if I’m right,” Regulus says.

Snape hisses, sitting back. “Fuck.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Incredibly.” Snape shoots him a glare. “Do you have an antidote to this fucking potion?”

“...No.”

“I hate you.” he puts his head in his hands, greasy long hair falling around his fingers. “Ok. Ok. Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t told anyone else this?”

“No.”

“Bloody hell, Regulus, why not?”

Regulus stares. “Who would I tell?”

“Someone from the Order?” 

“And risk more lives? You’ve seen how they’re handling this war. You said it yourself, they aren’t going about this the right way. This information is too crucial to be that careless with.”

“A Gryffindor, then. Someone who knows how to handle this.”

“I don’t trust any Gryffindors. Sirius is part of the Order as well, now.”

“And Potter?”

Regulus swallows. Even now, he can’t make himself meet Snape’s eyes. “Not Potter.” 

“Interesting.”

“He’s also in the Order.”

“Sure.”

“It’s… I’m not certain about any of this. It’s all theoretical. I think the Dark Lord made a Horcrux or a few, and I think he’s immortal till they’re destroyed.”

“I have to do my own research.” Snape says. “Before I can trust you.”

Regulus sighs. “I think. I think I might’ve found one already.”

Snape freezes, planting his hands on the ground on either side of him. “What?”

“It’s… I don’t know. I wish I could ask Saskia about this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the stone inscribed with a rune. “It fell out of his pocket a while ago. I took it. It does… something really strange. Like, really strange.”

“Who’s Saskia?”

Regulus ignores him, setting the stone on the floor in front of him. “I don’t recognize the symbol on it, but the metal traces around it looks like it was once set into something. I-” Then he pauses, because Snape is being weird. He’s gone completely still, staring at the stone.

“Merlin,” he breathes, and Regulus shifts uncomfortably. There’s a certain awe in Snape’s expression that scares him a bit. “What- is that real?”

“...Yes. Do you know what it is?”

Snape looks up, eyes wide. “How do you not? That’s- I mean, if that’s the actual thing, that’s one of the Deathly Hallows.”

“The what?”

“You know, the three magical objects from that story? Have you really not heard of it?”

Regulus doesn’t like not knowing something Snape does. “No.”

So Snape tells him. 

When he’s done, Snape leans forward, pointing at the rune. “See, that triangle is the Cloak of Invisibility. And then that line is the Elder Wand, and that circle is this stone.”

Invisibility cloak. Interesting. Regulus tucks that away for later and refocuses. “So-”

“That’s the Resurrection Stone. Merlin. Salazar. That’s. Wow.”

Regulus looks back down at the stone, picking it up carefully. “The Resurrection Stone. What…”

“If turned, it brings people back from the dead. Temporarily, of course.” Snape looks up, zeroing in on Regulus’s face. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Regulus sucks in a breath and thinks of Harold, shimmery and pale in the astronomy tower. “Yeah. I figured that bit out for myself.”

“What- who- I have so many questions.”

“So do I,” Regulus murmurs, sitting back against his bed and examining the stone.

“It just fell out of the Dark Lord’s pocket?”

“Yes. I thought it may be the first Horcrux.”

“How did he get it?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t very well ask him for the backstory to the object I stole.” Regulus stares down at the inscription. “The Deathly Hallows?”

“Yeah.”

Both Snape and Regulus say nothing, staring at the stone. Slowly, before he can think better of it, Regulus begins to rotate it between his fingers- once, twice, three times.

Regulus turns to see Harold sitting on the floor next to him, just as shimmery and translucent as ever. “Hello,” he says.

Harold stares at him, then at Snape, then looks around. “This isn’t the astronomy tower.”

“No.”

“Regulus-” Snape chokes out, and Regulus suddenly realizes how odd this must be for him. He's talking to someone- but not from Snape's point of view. To him, he's talking to the air. 

“Harold is here,” Regulus says looking between them. 

 Harold nods, staring at Snape. “Who’s this?”

“Snape. Don’t mind him.”

Snape makes an ugly sort of breathless sound in the back of his throat, gripping the carpet. “Uh-”

“I found out what this stone does,” Regulus says, not looking at Harold. “Brings people back from the dead. It’s part of a set.”

“You couldn't have guessed that first part?”

“Well.”

Snape swallows. “So- he's dead?”

Harold nods. “Yeah.” He points to Regulus with his chin. “He killed me.”

Regulus glares at him. “That is not true.” he looks back at Snape. “And he can't hear you. Or see you. Also, the Dark Lord did it.”

“That’s right.” Harold says. “You just helped.”

“Really? You’re doing this now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. When would you’d rather me bring it up?”

“Just-”

“Regulus.” Snape interrupts. “How long have you had this stone?”

“Two months. Give or take.” 

“How many times have you met with… Harold?”

“Twice. Three times, now.”

Snape glares, hair hanging in a curtain around his face. He looks a little ghostly himself, Regulus thinks. “I can’t believe you.”

“I didn’t know what the stone was.” Regulus says. “I couldn’t find anything in the library about it.”

“Because it’s usually told as a children’s tale. And you know, widely known.”

“You two are… friends?” Harold asks.

“No,” Regulus says decisively.

Harold raises his brows. “I see.”

“Why did you-” Snape drops his voice to a whisper, as if that will help anything. “Why did you bring him here?”

Regulus shrugs. “I needed to see if it still works. And it’s different, now that I know what it does.”

He looks at Harold. “Do you choose to come when I turn the stone?”

“No. The pull- it’s like there’s a line tied to my chest and you’re yanking on it. I hardly have a choice.”

“Okay. Interesting.”

“You really think this is a Horcrux?” Snape hisses, still eyeing the space next to Regulus suspiciously.

“Now I’m not sure.”

“May I ask why I’m here?” Harold looks around. “I’d rather not be.”

“Too bad.”

"So then, if the stone and our connection pulled me from the depth," Harold says, ignoring the resulting protests from Regulus, “Who’s she?”

“What?” Regulus follows Harold's finger and sucks in a sharp breath.

There’s a woman, young, sitting on Regulus’s other side, deathly still. She too is translucent, only left with traces of color. He doesn’t recognize her.

He jumps back, flinching hard. He could’ve sworn she wasn’t there when he first turned the stone. “I- I don’t- who-”

“She appeared about thirty seconds ago.” Harold looks between them nervously. “You don’t know her?”

The girl turns her head slowly, focusing large sad eyes on Regulus. He can’t breathe under the weight of her stare. “Am I alive?” She whispers through cracked lips.

“No,” Harold offers, and Regulus doesn’t know how he’s so calm right now. Harold he expected. Harold he knows. But this woman- she’s a stranger. It freaks him out. “But this is the land of the living.” Harold finishes. 

"What's happening?" Snape whispers.

“Who are you?” Regulus manages.

“I…” she looks down at her hands. “I just felt the pull of my family and had to see. But I don’t know you. Any of you. Or where we are.”

“Family?” Regulus stares at her. “What’s your name?”

“Merope. Where am I? Is Tom here?”

Regulus looks between her and Snape, at a loss. “Tom?”

“How am I here?”

Regulus silently holds up the stone. She focuses on it instantly, tired eyes going wide. “What- Where did you get that?”

Regulus stares at her, thoroughly confused. “You know what this is?”

The air around her vibrates with her intensity. “Where’d you get that?” She demands again.

“The Dark Lord… gave it to me,” Regulus settles on.

“The Dark Lord?”

“Voldemort?”

Merope shakes her head and Regulus pauses, considering. “...Tom Riddle?”

And that does it.

She leaps to her feet, looking around. “Tom? Is he here?”

Regulus stands too, and after a minute Snape joins him. “No. No- but wait, just- just calm down. How do you know him?”

“My husband. My love. Where is he? I have to see him.” She chokes, voice cracking. 

Regulus and Harold exchange a glance. “You’re Voldemort’s wife?” Regulus asks cautiously. He didn’t know he was ever married. 

“I- but-” Merope goes still, turning slowly. “What year is it?”

Regulus tells her and she lets out a sad, rather pathetic whimper, bunching her hands in her ratty dress. “Then my Tom is gone,” She whispers. “My son. My child. That’s who you mean, isn’t it?”

“I don’t…” Regulus’s brain has been reduced to a single buzz of static at this point. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle. My son.” Merope looks down. “That stone. That was in our family. That was set into a ring. He must’ve taken it. Good. It belongs to him.”

“Why are you here?” Harold says, speaking for the first time in a while. “If none of us know you?”

Merope looks up at him. “I felt the pull of my family. It has to be that stone. It was a beautiful ring, you know.” 

Regulus looks down at the metal traces surrounding it. That must be where it was set into a band. “This belonged to a ring owned by Tom Marvolo Riddle, your son?”

“Yes.” She looks around. “Can I see him?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Why didn’t you come earlier? I’ve used this stone before.”

“I… the pull was stronger today. Closer to home. I felt like I could touch it.”

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening right now,” Snape groans, lowering himself to the ground and putting his head in his hands.

“Neither do I,” Harold croaks. Regulus forgot he was there. 

“So you felt the pull of this stone and followed it, despite not being attached to any person here.” 

Merope nods. “My father loved that ring more than he loved me. I’m glad my son owns it now. He deserves it so much more.”

“Did you know about the Deathly Hallows?” Regulus asks cautiously.  

Merope blinks. “The what?”

Regulus hums. “Right. Did you know about the Resurrection Stone?”

She shakes her head, and Regulus sighs. “It’s this. It’s why you’re here. It’s why Harold is here. I don’t understand why the Dark Lord had it, but Snape says it temporarily brings people back from the dead.”

She sniffs. “I didn’t know that. It was our family ring. That’s our crest.” She indicates the rune. “It was set into silver.”

“So somewhere there’s a band that this was once in, right?”

Merope nods, still fixated on the stone in his hand. He thinks if he lets her take it she’d never give it back. “Probably still in the family shack in Little Hangleton. I don’t know when or how it was broken. Maybe… oh.”

“What?”

“Maybe after I left… maybe my son went looking for it in the shack. It meant a lot to his grandfather, you know. Maybe he found it but only wanted the stone. I never knew it was a magical object.” Merope’s eyes, pointed in slightly different directions, widen slightly. “I knew the band was protected with charms. Maybe they restricted the magical potential of the stone.”

“That would do it,” Regulus says, nodding. This is good. This is something. He turns to Snape. “So Riddle goes back to his mother’s home and finds the ring she mentioned. He knows about the resurrection stone, because, as you said-”

“-Everyone knows,” Snape says, and Regulus tips his head.

“Right. He must’ve put two and two together, figured out it was the same thing. But it won’t work with the band, so he gets the stone out and leaves the ring there. Why?”

“I need to see my son,” Merope says. “I need to see the ring.”

“No.”

“But-”

“Maybe he wanted to contact someone,” Harold says. “You know. On the other side.” 

Regulus thinks about that. “Maybe.”

“That’s my son’s ring,” Merope says, taking another step forward. Regulus stares at her. 

“Not anymore.”

“I need. I need to give it back to him.” She lurches towards him, reaching, and he simply lets the stone fall from his hand. Both she and Harold disappear in an instant.

Regulus stoops and grabs the stone from the carpet, slipping it back into his pocket. “Well.”

“Care to fill me in?” Snape asks cautiously. 

Regulus does, summarizing Merope and their conversation. “She seemed… sad.”

“Was she really the Dark Lord’s mum?”

“I guess she must’ve been, right?” Regulus sinks back on to his bed, staring at the far wall. He’s so tired. “She really liked this stone.”

“Sounds like the ring was very important to her family.”

“I wonder if Voldemort knew that.” Regulus says stiltedly, looking over at Snape. “Maybe-”

“No.”

“Maybe we should go to Little Hangleton.”

“No.”

“That’s got to be it, though, right?” Regulus falls back on his bed, eyes locked on the ceiling. The paint is chipping, he notices. “Why would he specifically remove this stone from the band if it wasn’t important?”

“Obviously the stone’s important,” Snape says. “It’s the bloody Stone of Resurrection. But the band? I mean, we don’t even know it’s still there.”

“No. But. That’s the main bit, right? This stone is special, but it was the actual ring that was significant to his mother’s family. Look, we don’t have any other leads. Let me read up a bit about Horcruxes and then we can look into this more.”

Snape lets out a defeated breath. “You really are a traitor, aren’t you?”

Regulus lifts his head to give him a quizzical look. “It took you this long to believe me?”

“There was a lot happening. It was all very fast.”

“Is the Veritaserum wearing off? I only had Kreature put in the smallest dose.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Snape drops his chin. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

“I need to sleep.” Regulus says. It’s true. His head is swimming with new information, too much to take in all at once. It’s making his eyelids droop. 

“Me too. I can’t believe…”

“What?”

“Any of it.”

“Me neither,” Regulus mutters. 

Snape pauses in the doorway. “We’re going to Little Hangleton, aren’t we.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“...Right.”

“Now get out of my room.”

The door shuts quietly behind him.

 

---

Dolohov is passed out on the couch when Regulus creeps into the living room, mouth slightly open and head tilted to the side. That’s one of the perks of your house being overrun by Death Eaters: easy access. He looks like a pig, Regulus thinks, a bag of skin spread out across the cushions.

Regulus kneels carefully, adjusting his knees on the rug and steadying himself on the couch. He can smell Dolohov’s breath, greasy and rank. “Occausi," he breathes, wand pointed at Dolohov's face. He watches with a sick sort of amusement as Dolhov’s mouth vanishes, leaving behind a smooth expanse of skin.

A second later the older man blinks awake, eyes going instantly wide as he thrashes on the couch. Regulus leans over him, drinking in the fear in his eyes.
Slowly he reaches out, grabbing Dolohov’s jaw and squeezing, watching his cheeks bunch. “Maybe,” He murmurs slowly. “This will teach you to be quiet.” He trails his wand down the side of his face. “Stupefy.”

Dolohov stops thrashing. 

Regulus leans forward, squeezing his face tighter. He wants to leave bruises in the shape of fingerprints. He wants him to remember this. “You want to know why the Dark Lord favors me?”

Dolohov doesn’t respond. He can’t even move. Regulus nods for him. “He likes me because I can handle my shit. I get my work done and keep my head down. I don’t complain.” He releases Dolohov’s jaw and slowly moves to pinch his nose, cutting off his one supply of oxygen. “I don’t whine. I’m not a… what did you call it? A bitch.”

Dolohov blinks rapidly, eyes full of fear. Regulus drinks the sight in. “I think I’ll have to leave that honor to you,” he says drily. Dolhov’s chest rises and falls as he tries and fails to get any air. Regulus leans in dangerously close. “In the future, keep your dirty fucking hands off me. Tell Rookwood and Carrow. Can you do that?”

Dolohov nods furiously and Regulus releases his nose, watching him inhale desperately. “Good,” he says. “Find someone to uncurse you tomorrow. See you at breakfast.” Then he stands and walks away, falling back into his bed.

He sleeps well that night.

Notes:

ok ok I hate the writing in this chapter which is odd but anyway here it is
its a little longer than my usual hence the wait- sorry!
I decided ok enough playing around let's get to the plot and here we are. Is it evident I have no idea how to write actual storylines? Lol I put all information/plot into a single scene, didn't edit it, and called it a day

Chapter 56: The Gaunts

When Remus pushes open the door to his house, the first thing he sees is a spider running across his foot. Every board in the floor creaks as he steps in, setting his bags down and looking around.

He hates this place. Not entirely, not unbearably, but enough. He doesn’t hate it for the same reasons Sirius used to hate going home. Sirius hated his parents, his brother, the air of cruelty that permeated every inch of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus hates his house because of the absence of all that. Well, not the abuse, but anything. His house is empty. Sparse. Even the people that move within its walls barely speak, void of anything worth acknowledging. 

His mother stays in bed most days, though Remus isn’t entirely sure why. She’s not sick. She seems physically fine. But when he sits next to her and looks in her eyes, all he sees is a watery-clear weakness. It doesn’t scare him as much as it depresses him. He does his best not to meet her gaze.

His father stays in his study, pouring over books and ledgers and giving little time to his wife or child. Not that either of them mind- Remus and Hope are so wrapped up in their own problems they take little notice of his absence.

Remus steps into his mother’s room, hovering in the doorway. “Mum.”

Hope puts her book down and rolls over, smiling slightly when she sees him. “Remus, love. What are you doing home? I thought you were staying with the Potters until you get a flat.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, looking around. “I just needed some of my stuff.”

“And they have the proper… equipment to handle you?”

Handle you.

“Uh. Yeah.” Remus shifts. “Remember I told you about the new potion I’m taking? It’s making it easier. Not curing it, but.”

“It was worse for a while, wasn’t it?” Hope focuses on him distantly. “I remember you said something about it getting worse.”

“It was getting worse,” Remus agrees. He was turning into a full monster, not just a part-time one. Sometimes he’ll wake up gasping in the middle of the night and think he still is. On occasion, he swears his fingernails are morphing into claws, elongating and puncturing his skin.

Sirius takes care to clip and file them for him, kissing each one after he’s done and reminding Remus that it would be concerning if they weren’t growing. 

“But I’m managing it,” he says to his mother eventually. “I’ll be fine.” The Potters are paying a potioneer to make Wolfsbane now that Remus has graduated. He’s glad to be rid of Snape. Remus told Effie he’d repay her, but she’d insisted against the idea. 

He looks around his mother’s room, taking a step back. He should get going. Working with the Order’s been good for him, he’s found. Getting more information about the werewolves working for Voldemort and being able to actually do something about it feels like an achievement- even if they’ve only been let on a few reconnaissance missions. He’s anxious to get back.

Plus, the fewer minutes he has to spend in this stifling silence, the better.

“I’m going to talk to Dad and then I’m leaving,” Remus says.

Hope blinks up at him from where she’s leaning against the headboard. “That was quick.”

Remus shrugs. “Yeah. Well. I needed some stuff,” he says again. “But I'll write, okay?”

“Mhm.” She reaches out to him and he bends down to give her an awkward hug, breathing in the familiar scent of linens and tea. He hopes she knows how much he loves her. 

“Bye Mum,” he says, straightening up. “I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” She nods at him and he backs out of the room, turning in the hall to say goodbye to his father. 

It’s easier, he thinks, to ignore the emptiness that haunts this house than to let it consume him. When he has everything he needs, he stands on the stoop and looks back one last time. It’s a sad house, full of sad people, alone against the moors. 

He’s going to miss it. 

 

---

 

“I saw Regulus the other day,” Sirius says. 

James stares at him, suddenly laser focused. The people of Diagon Alley bustle around them in the rare sun. “What? When?”

They step around a vendor peddling singing hats. Sirius keeps his gaze straight ahead. “At Monty’s funeral.”

Something sinks in James’s chest. “He- he was there?” He didn’t see him. He’d liked to have seen him. 

“Later that night. He left flowers.”

“The roses,” James realizes, blinking. Since that day he’s been back, cleaning the flowers and pulling dying leaves off stems. The dark red roses at the base of the grave have yet to fade. He knew their magic felt familiar. 

“Yeah,” Sirius breathes. “The roses. I don’t know- I mean. I didn’t know he knew him.”

“I don’t think he did,” James says. He pauses. “Before Dad died, I asked Regulus for help.”

Sirius stops walking, coming to a stand-still in the middle of the road. “What?”

James pushes past the burning ache of betrayal, knowing it’s better to get it out of the way. Sirius and him, they don’t keep secrets. He isn’t about to start now.

“I asked him if he could make a potion for my father. I thought. I thought since he’s one of the best in the school, he could help.”

Sirius’s eyes scan his face, wide and searching. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Would you have let me try it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Right.”

Sirius starts walking again. James catches up. Neither of them speak.

“He said no, then.” Sirius says after a minute of silence.

James sucks in a breath. “Yeah. He said no. But- I was wearing him down. I could feel it.”

“What makes him so special?” Sirius asks.

“Everything,” James blurts, then immediately goes red. “Wait. No. I mean. All his grades and his recommendations- he obviously knows a lot about the subject.” 

Idiot. 

“But better than the doctors?” 

“I was desperate, Sirius. My dad was dying.”

Sirius bites his lip, stopping at a pub and holding the door for James. They find their way to a table, settling into the red booth. “Did it have to be him ?”

“It doesn’t matter,” James says, sweeping a hand through his hair and resting his elbows on the table. “He said no. Multiple times.”

“You asked him more than once?”

“Well.” James says, not meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t going to give up so easily.”

“So why’d he turn you down?”

“I don’t know,” James huffs, drumming his fingers against the table. “He never gave me a real reason. He just kept saying it wouldn’t work.”

“He might’ve had a point about that, mate.” Sirius says. “I don’t think he’s that good. Not better than St. Mungo’s best doctors. He’s still in school.”

“Not anymore.”

Sirius grimaces. “No. Not anymore.”

James rests his chin on his folded arms. “Did you two talk, then?”

“...Yes.” Sirius scrubs a tired hand over his face, grey eyes reflecting in the dim light. “Yeah, we did.”

James watches him carefully. It’s always been a touchy subject, Sirius and Regulus. Best avoided unless brought up first. Yet here Sirius is, bringing it up. Which means, on some level, he wants to talk about it. James indulges. “About what?”

“All of it.” Sirius lets out a harsh breath. “I. Fuck, Prongs, he makes me so angry.”

“But?”

“But. But I just. I need him safe. And he’s not being safe.”

James nods. He understands. Perhaps more than he should. “Is he… is he okay?”

Sirius gives a small helpless shrug. “I don’t know. He’d never tell me.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“I don’t know.” Sirius sighs again, leaning his head against the wall. “I… he told me he doesn’t support Voldemort.”

It feels like some secret thing in James’s stomach grows wings and lifts off, sending his insides spiraling. “He said that?”

Because that would mean Regulus is worth all the energy James longs to devote to him.

It would mean there’s hope.

It would mean he could carry all the horrible hidden feelings currently lurking behind his heart with a little less shame. 

“Yeah.” Sirius frowns, looking down. There’s something James doesn’t think he’ll fully understand drifting across his eyes. “I asked him to come back with us.”

“Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed Effie would be okay with it. I shouldn’t have assumed you-”

“I asked him the same thing.”

Sirius stops. Time slows to a stop for a minute as he catches up to what James said. “You knew he had the mark.”

“I knew.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“I was going to.”

“You-” Sirius leans back in the booth, his gaze sending James shrinking away. He knows there’s nothing to hide. He knows there’s no reason to be afraid. But for some reason, the desire to keep everything about Regulus secret is overwhelming. Those conversations, those looks, James wants them to be private. Belonging to no one but them.

He wants Regulus all to himself. 

 “-You knew he was a Death Eater. You knew. And you asked him to come home with us?”

“Well. I didn’t think he meant it.”

Sirius laughs incredulously. “You didn’t think he meant it. Merlin, how often do you two talk?”

James flushes. “Not often. Just. I thought he could help. And then I thought I could help.”

“Must be some connection, then.”

“Sirius, don’t be like that. We’ve had a few conversations. Again, I was desperate.”

“Just… stop, okay? Don’t talk to him anymore. That’s all I ask. I- If I want to tell him something I’ll do it myself. Just stay away from him.”

“That’s easy enough,” James swallows. “We’re all out of school. It’s not like I’m going to see him around.” 

“Yeah, well. Don’t go looking.” Sirius says. “He’s the same stubborn idiot he was before, if you were wondering. He obviously turned me down. So he’s just… lying to himself.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean he said he doesn’t support Voldemort. He said he’s not a blood supremacist. Yet he still stays. He still… helps them.”

“Maybe he doesn’t have a choice.” James says.

“That’s the thing,” Sirius sighs, looking so tired. “I keep giving him one.”

James lets out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. I just thought…”

“I still can’t believe you thought he’d agree to help you.”

“It was worth a shot.”

Sirius looks at him then, eyes searching his face. James doesn’t know what he expects to find. “When did you stop telling me things, Prongs?”

James freezes. “What?”

“It’s fine. I know the answer.” Sirius glances away, and he looks so much like Regulus that James chokes on it. “Back in the beginning of sixth year.” 

Guilt, unfamiliar and unfounded, festers hard in James’s stomach. “What?”

“I mean. You just stopped talking to me. First the thing with Monty, then your boyfriend, and you just kind of… faded.”

“My… what?”

Everything hurts. He can’t think.

“You know. And like, I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but did you really think I would care? You know Remus and I… you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. You can’t even tell me his name?”

“His… name?”

The thing inside him, the missing piece, burns like nothing he’s ever felt before. Why can’t he think ?

“Fine. Whatever. I just. I want to go back to the way we were before. It’s just like- as your best friend, isn’t this exactly the sort of stuff we should be talking about? Love? Gossip? In the midst of all this… turmoil, I thought at least that topic would stay easy. I didn’t even know you were into boys until you told me about him.”

“...Fabian?”

“No.”

James frowns. There’s something muddy and thick wrapping around his thoughts, making it hard to form anything coherent. What…

Who…

And then he’s sitting in the same spot, staring at the same person, but he can’t for the life of him recall what they were literally just talking about. It’s like he blinked and lost a minute or two. Regulus, he thinks distantly. Sirius saw Regulus. He was mad at James for asking Regulus for help.

Right. 

Okay. 

He’s back on track.

“I was desperate,” James says. “I thought he might be able to help.”

“What?”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, though. I should’ve.”

“I don’t… wait. What?”

“Regulus and the potions for my father. I guess I knew it wouldn’t work, but it was worth a shot.”

Sirius’s gaze hardens. “Oh. Okay. We’re ignoring the issue. Fine. Whatever. Sorry for bringing it up.”

“What?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, James. You’re allowed to speak to whoever you please. Just maybe mention it next time, yeah?”

“Okay. I- yeah, that’s fair.”

“There’s Moony.” Sirius looks up as the door jingles. Remus sends them a small wave before making his way to the bar to get their drinks.

James focuses on the grain of the table, trying to clear his head. It’s gone dizzy again. “What- er. What were we talking about?”

Sirius gives him a funny look. “Regulus.”

And there’s the fuzziness again.

“Ah.”

“I just don’t get it. I mean. Do you have any idea how many secrets Regulus has kept from me over the years?” Sirius reaches out to help Moony put the drinks down and scooches over to make room on his side of the booth. ‘“You think he could’ve at least told me he was imperioed.”

“In his defense,” James starts, but stops when he sees Remus cut him a look from across the table. “Nevermind.”

Sirius turns to look at Remus. “Did you know our James here has been meeting up in secret with my brother?”

Remus’s eyes go wide with a shock James doesn’t feel entirely fits the situation. “What?”

James rolls his eyes. “He’s making it sound so dramatic. We just… talked. A few times.” 

“James.” Remus says disapprovingly.

“I-” James swallows. “I had something to say.”

Remus studies him. “About?”

“My dad.”

Remus doesn’t look as surprised as James expected. Instead, he just seems vaguely sad. “Oh. Right. Did he really come to the funeral?”

“No,” Sirius clarifies. “He came later that night. I guess since James talked to him about Monty he thought he should be there.”

Remus looks up suddenly. “Wait. He doesn’t think that- you told him it wasn’t his fault?”

Sirius stares at him in confusion. “Why the fuck would it be his fault?”

“I mean.” Remus shifts, avoiding both their gazes. “I mean, if James asked for his help and he denied it, he might feel a little guilty.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Sirius says, letting his head fall back against the booth behind him. “That’s not how he thinks.”

“I’ll tell him,” James says before he can think. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

Sirius’s head snaps right back up. “No you bloody won’t? Excuse you?”

“Oh.” James pauses. Why had he thought he’d be seeing Reg soon? Why had he thought he’d be the one to deliver that message? “I don’t- you’re right. I don’t know why I said that.”

“James,” Remus says softly. James refuses to look at him, the ache in his chest that’s been lingering for sometime now growing slightly. He rubs his sternum, taking a deep breath. 

“I guess I forgot we’re not going back to school.” 

“Regardless,” Sirius says. “I think it was a good conversation. I mean- it gave me hope. Some, at least.”

“Good. That’s good.” James takes a long drink. “Whatever. Doesn’t really matter much, does it? He’ll do what he pleases.”

“True.” Sirius nods. “It’s no concern of mine.” 

“Have you two talked to Moody since last weekend? Dumbledore?”

Sirius shakes his head but Remus nods, looking guilty when both Sirius and James look to him in surprise. “It wasn’t a meeting or anything,” he says. “I was just checking in with him about something.”

“About what?”

Remus raises a brow. “What do you think.”

“Ah.” Sirius says, taking a sip of his beer.

James looks between them, confused. “What?”

Sirius shares a glance with Remus. “Voldemort has been recruiting werewolves at an increasing rate. We think he’s turning them just to add to his army.”

“Merlin,” James says, surprised. “I… didn’t know that.”

“Because Dumbledore’s refusing to tell the Order,” Remus huffs. “I’m not sure why.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have a plan,” Remus says. “But. It’s risky.”

“Pray tell.”

“Not yet.” Remus sets his beer down. “I need more time. I need Dumbledore’s approval.”

James tips his head. Dumbledore’s the head of the order, but Moody’s the enforcer. “Not Moody’s?”

Remus smiles. “He would agree too easily.” 

“I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Sirius says, shifting till his thigh presses against Remus’s. He leans into him, just slightly. “Dumbledore will understand. He has to.”

James stares at the place where they touch, emotions swirling into a confused and muddled blob in his chest. It’s not jealousy. Not exactly. He has nothing to be jealous of. It’s not like he wants a relationship or anything like that. He doesn’t have the time or the capacity, what with the war and the loss of his father still so fresh. Still, the thing inside him aches, like it longs for something it doesn’t know. Like there’s something missing.

James really needs to find it. 

Then Sirius shifts away, and the ache resides. James swallows the rest of his drink and then remembers something, standing up from the booth quickly. “Shit. I told my mom I would help with dinner tonight. I’ve got to go.”

“Best of luck Prongsy!” Sirius calls.

“Do your best not to light the place on fire,” Remus smiles.

James waves and ducks out to the street to apparate away. He doesn’t burn the house down, but it’s a close call. In the end, his mother has to throw a towel over his head to put out the flames. 

 

---

 

Remus wants to hold Sirius’s hand. He would reach out if he could, tangle their fingers together, pull him to his side. It’d be easier to not lose him in the crowd if he could keep him close, Remus thinks. 

But Diagon Alley always finds a way to pull people apart, the disorganized swarms of pedestrians pushing them every which way. Remus makes do with sticking close behind Sirius, keeping an eye on his back and following him down the street. They duck into a sweets shop and Remus catches his breath, standing as close to Sirius as socially acceptable. “Do you really need more sugar?”

Sirius turns, small brown bag already half full. His eyes twinkle in the pink light of the shop. “Of course. Also, says you. I don’t think I’ve seen you go one day without somehow consuming an entire chocolate bar.”

Remus flushes. “That’s different. Chocolate isn’t as sweet as… those things.”

Sirius shrugs, popping a bright purple candy into his mouth when the shopkeeper isn’t looking. “You think I should be watching my figure?”

“No.” Remus resists the urge to move closer. “I like your figure just fine. What I do not like, however, is the shockingly chaotic burst of energy you’ll get after you finish that bag.”

“I’m just trying to catch up to Prongs.”

“Yeah, but he’s just like that normally. You’re relatively reasonable till you’re sugar high.” 

Sirius winks and shovels another heaping of sweets into his bag and moves towards the counter, fishing some galleons out of his pocket.

Remus sighs in exasperation and follows him out, pinching a sweet from Sirius’s bag and inspecting it in the afternoon sun. “It’s… sparkling.” 

“Makes your tongue glitter too.”

“Lovely.”

They follow some side streets to a canal plopping down on its bank and dangling their legs over the wall. On the other side some kids toss a kite in the air, futilely attempting to fly it in a non-existent updraft. The kite keeps crashing down, sticking nose-first into the grass. Remus smirks watching them. 

Sirius rests his hand on the wall they’re sitting on, setting it right next to Remus’s. Their pinkies touch, and Remus can’t resist crossing his over Sirius’s.

“Remember that night,” he says suddenly. “When you made me get into bed with you?”

Sirius scrunches his face. “Ok, I hardly made you do anything.”

“You lead me to my room at the Potter’s. Like I hadn’t been there before.”

“What if you got lost?”

“And then you climbed into bed and pulled me down with you.”

“Yes, well. I seem to remember you going quite willingly.”

“Of course I did.” Remus looks down at him, memorizing the light flush in his cheeks.

“And it was you who held my hand.” 

“I’m not sure about that,” Remus says smoothly, running his pinky over Sirius’s. The motion is gentle, soft, nothing compared to the nights they spend with more of their skin pressed together than Remus ever thought possible, and yet somehow Sirius’s pupils still dilate and he shivers, leaning closer. “It was quite mutual, if memory serves. You’re the one who fell asleep.”

“I… you were very warm. I like sharing my bed. I always sleep better next to someone else.”

“Mm.” Remus looks back across the canal, shielding his eyes against the light reflecting off the water. “I was going to kiss you, you know.”

Sirius chokes next to him. “What?”

“If you’d been awake when I looked at you, I would’ve kissed you.”

“Shit.” Sirius curses. “We could’ve been doing this so much earlier.”

“No,” Remus says after a beat. “No, I don’t think we could’ve. I think we needed time.”

Sirius goes quiet. “You think I needed time, you mean.” 

“Maybe.” 

“I don’t know what I was doing,” Sirius says with a pained groan. “I was holding your hand, flirting with you, and I didn’t realize I liked you? How does that possibly work?”

“I have no idea,” Remus confesses. “I was incredibly confused, to be honest.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Remus waves a hand in dismissal. “We figured it out eventually.”

“That we did.”

“It’s interesting.” Sirius says after a beat. “James called it before I did.”

“What?”

“He seemed to know that I was head over heels for you when I was still oblivious.”

“I don’t know how subtle either of us were being,” Remus allows. 

“I think it’s ‘cause he’d already been through all that.” Sirius says. “Like, he knew what to look for.”

Remus stares down through the water, eyes catching on trash littering the floor of the canal. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” 

“Why does he never bring it up? His relationship?” Sirius looks away. “It’s… I mean. I know everything about him. We never keep secrets. But that- he wouldn't let me even go near that. I feel like I’m missing a huge chunk of his story.”

He does too , Remus thinks. Instead, he says: “I think it’s probably just a sore subject.”

“Yeah, but his dad was a sore subject too, and we talked about that.”

“Remember how that started, though? He kept it a secret from you for weeks.” 

Sirius nods. “True.”

“He never liked difficult conversations.” Remus says.

“That’s not it. He does just fine with difficult conversations, as long as they’re not about him. The amount of shit I’ve told him… he’s very good at listening. He’s so helpful. I never would’ve survived that house without him. But the second I ask him how he’s doing… I don’t know. I just wish he wouldn't shut down so quickly.”

Remus bites his lip. Neither of them say anything for a long moment. 

“I just feel like he’s not the same anymore,” Sirius hums. “I want the old James back.”

Remus closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He considers that for a long minute. James is different, he supposes, but Remus can hardly pinpoint how. He was right there next to him, watching him change. Watching him shift. Watching Regulus carve chunks out of him, watching him gut the James they used to know and morph him into someone new. 

Though, he thinks. It’s not Regulus’s fault. Not entirely. It was James, really, who carried the knife. He offered more and more of himself to Regulus, who made it clear from the beginning he couldn’t take it. James Potter loves with his whole heart, even if it destroys him.

Maybe since Remus was the only one who knows, who knew , he can’t entirely see how James has changed. It’s like watching summer end- you don’t notice it’s going till you're standing in the middle of a bare grey forest and you have snow in your boots. Sirius wasn’t there for any of that. James wouldn’t let him be. He saw every leaf drop, every snowflake fall. He watched James change with little to no explanation of why. 

“He’s still our James,” Remus says idly. “We’re all different.” 

“But for most of sixth year, even when he wasn’t telling me who his boyfriend was, he was happy. I know he was. Monty was sick, sure, but it wasn’t bad yet. And he wasn’t telling me stuff, but he was still so full of energy. And now he’s just so… spacy.” 

“That’s not his fault.”

“I know. I know. I just feel like if he’d tell us what’s wrong, we could help put him back together. He’d never hesitate to do it for us.”

“We’ll get there,” Remus says. “Once we make it through this war.” 

“We will.” Sirius glances a look up at him. “It’s- everything’s going to work out.”

“I know.”

“Dumbledore won’t let anything happen to us.”

“I know.”

“We’ll make it out-”

Remus can’t take it anymore, grabbing his face and kissing him long and deep, enjoying the taste of sugar on his lips. Sirius makes a small sound and melts into him, gasping a little when Remus pulls back, still holding his head. “Sirius,” He says calmly. “I know.” 

Sirius, blushing furiously, stares at him. “Okay.” He chokes. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” a pause. “Very much.”

“Good.”

Sirius ducks his head, obviously still trying to regain his composure. “Uh. In other news. Have you seen Pete recently?”

Remus blinks at the sudden conversation switch. “No. Not really. I think we hung out once since school. Have you?”

“No.” Sirius frowns. “That’s why I’m asking. He hasn’t really written, either.”

“I’ll write him tonight.”

Sirius still looks a little distracted, humming. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.”

Remus tips his head up and kisses him again, simply because he can’t help it. It’s risky, in broad daylight and public, but there’s no one around and the kids on the other bank are too preoccupied with their shitty kite to notice. Sirius leans closer, bracing one hand on the wall and another on Remus’s cheek, pulling him in. 

The sun feels good on their backs, soft against the passion of the kiss. Remus can’t stop the slow smile that creeps onto his face as he moves against Sirius’s lips. For a long, unending moment, everything is warm. 

Sirius retreats eventually, eyes blown wide and locked on Remus. “Okay. Okay. Right. Hey, would you maybe want to head back to the house?”

“James and Effie are home.”

“I don’t care.”

“Right. Yep. Let's go.”

They leave the bag of sweets forgotten on the wall. 

 

---

 

Regulus lets his head fall onto his desk, huffing out a frustrated sigh. He’s pretty sure he’s scanned the entire Black library, only to fall short. The closest he’s gotten to anything useful was the book he found a while ago, and he’s already read it cover to cover. 

“No luck?” Snape asks from the floor.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything in this house.”

“I refuse to wander into a mystery shack in the middle of nowhere without knowing a little more about this cursed object we’re attempting to find.”

“I’m not suggesting we do. I’m just saying I don’t think we’re looking in the right places.”

“Do you have any ideas then?”

“...No.”

“Right.” Regulus stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Let's focus on the potion for now. That’s due in what, a week?”

“How are you so calm about this? If we don’t get it right the Dark Lord…”

Regulus shoots him a look. “We’ll get it right.”

“But-”

“While I have no faith in your sorry excuse for potion skills, I happen to trust mine. We’ll be fine.”

“We don’t even have a first draft brewed.”

“Then let’s get boiling.” Regulus moves towards the door, grabbing his coat. The basement gets cold, even in the dead of summer. When he pulls it off the hook, a small piece of paper flutters to the ground. Regulus stoops to grab it, unfolding it quickly.

Oh.

Shit.

It’s the spell Pettigrew slipped across the table in the library, the one that supposedly unlocks the doors during a lockdown and counteracts Dumbledore’s charm. Regulus hadn’t used it during the last lockdown, in part because he’d forgotten, but in part because he was smart enough not to trust it. He thought it was a bit cheap, sending one of the main members of the Order to hand him a spell and tell him it would help. Regulus intended to look into it after school, just to confirm that it was some sort of bullshit tracking charm or something like that, but the paper had gotten lost and he hadn't had enough energy or time to truly search for it. 

Yet here it is, sitting in his hand. After a moment of indecision, he slips it into his pocket. 

Regulus turns to spare a glance at Snape, wanting him and all his grease out of his room. “Coming?”

“Fine.”

“Thought so.”

They work until dinner. Regulus thinks he might see more of Snape than his own face. The Dark Lord comes by on occasion, though Regulus is pretty sure that’s just to scare Snape into remembering his power. Regulus considers teaching Snape occlumency, if only to ensure his new understanding of Regulus and his motivations don’t get uncovered. He then decides he doesn’t want to get anywhere near Snape’s mind, so he dismisses the idea completely. 

“Pass me the dragon liver.”

Snape shoves the jar at him and gets back to stirring. “How many of these have you made?”

“Protection potions? This is my first.”

“No, I mean potions for the cause.”

Regulus looks down at the jar in his hand. “A few.”

“Lots?”

“No.”

“But a few. What kind?”

Regulus turns and glares at him, bracing a hand on the table. “Why do you need to know? Planning to rat me out to Dumbledore? He already knows everything, I guarantee it.”

Snape narrows his eyes. “I just want to know how practiced a killer you are.”

Regulus’s stomach tightens. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Oh really. That’s not what Harold said.”

Regulus turns back to the table, forcefully opening the jar and shaking out a few pieces of dried liver. “Don’t talk about Harold.”

“So did you decide you were a traitor before or after you tortured him?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I’ve known my place in this war for a long time.”

“Yeah? As long as you’ve been in love with Lily Evans?”

Snape goes still, jaw clenched. Regulus pulls a container of dragon's blood towards him and drops the liver in, leaving it to rehydrate. “That’s- I’m not- she’s…”

“She’s what?”

“You know,” Snape says, mouth twisted like he’s tasting something unpleasant. “A mudblood.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve still got some blood-purist in you, then?”

“She’s- we’re not like that. We’re friends.”

“Does she know that?”

“Of course.”

“Why call her that then?”

Snape doesn’t look at him. “She’ll come back around. I know it.”

“So what, you think all muggleborns deserve to die, but you happen to have a crush on a certain one? Why is she the exception?”

“She- she loves me.”

“I ask again- does she know that?”

“Potter certainly does,” Snape says, and Regulus goes still. The name hurts, even now. “She’s never liked him. Not once. She told me. I still-”

“You still what? Have a chance? So you think if Evans fancied Potter you’d never compare?”

“This isn’t about that. None of this-”

“You said yourself that you’re only doing this for her. For what I can only assume to be love.”

Snape takes a step forward. “And you said the same thing. Do you really wanna talk about love, Black? You said this isn’t for your family, so who is it then? Who are you trying to protect?”

Regulus runs a hand through his hair. Grabs some tongs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Admit it, Black. You’re just as bad as me.” 

Regulus wonders what the two of them would do if James and Lily got together. Be a mess, probably. “You’re disgusting. I’m nothing like you.”

Snape glares. “We’ll see.”

When they finish bottling the newest brew, they retreat back to Regulus’s room. Snape drops onto his now familiar spot on the carpet and Regulus slides back into the chair by his desk, handing Snape the book he’d been studying earlier. “See if you can’t get anything from this,” He mutters, looking out the window. It’s dusty and cracked, covered in the type of grime even Kreature has never been able to fully scrub off. It’s raining, Regulus notes dimly. Of course it is. 

He wonders if Saskia knows anything else about Horcruxes. Maybe he should- no. No, that would be a bad idea. Regulus can hardly take seeing Harold over and over again. Saskia’s a different matter altogether. 

Speaking of Harold, Regulus slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out the stone. He turns it a few times between his fingers and waits, watching the ghostly figure of Harold appear across the room. “Hello.”

Snape looks up in confusion.

Harold continues. “I’m here again.”

Regulus crosses his legs. “Yeah. I had more questions for Merope.”

Harold blinks. “What do you need me for then?”

“I don’t. Unfortunately I can’t exactly choose who appears.”

Snape glares at Regulus. “Black, is this necessary? He freaks me out.”

“Yes.” Regulus ignores him. “Harold, can you access other souls where you are?”

“Not by choice.”

“Hm.” Regulus looks around. “How do we call Merope then?”

Harold just shrugs, crossing his arms. “She said she was drawn to her family the first time, right?”

“Something like that.” Regulus fiddles with the stone, staring at it. “Should we talk about her son?”

“The Dark Lord?” Snape asks. 

“Tom Riddle,” Regulus says, wracking his brain for Merope-related topics.. “Er… Little Hangleton? The ring?”

Behind Harold another shape takes form, Merope stepping from the mist. “Tom?”

“Merope,” Regulus says, standing from his chair. “You’re here.”

“My fami-”

“Right.” Regulus stands up. “Can you tell us more about this ring?”

Merope looks to Regulus and the stone in his hand. “Can I hold it?”

“Definitely not.”

“It’s my ring.”

“Please,” Regulus says. “We need to know.”

“Why?”

“We’re just curious,” Regulus finishes. "Why would your son have this stone?”

Merope blinks at him, eyes drifting in slightly different directions. It must be hard to focus, Regulus thinks. “I- He would’ve had to take it from my brother. It was his prized possession, but it was Tom’s rightful property. I didn’t know the stone was magical. Maybe Tom did.”

“He did,” Regulus says. “I would almost guarantee it.” There was no other real reason for wanting the stone. “But the ring, he would’ve known it was important to you?”

“If he talked to my brother, yes. He was so protective over it. Valued it over everything.” She spits the last word with such a vicious venom that Regulus is taken aback. 

“You didn’t… get along?”

“Ha!” She narrows her eyes. “There’s a reason I gave birth to my son in a boys home? I was cast aside after I fell in love.”

“Oh.” Regulus blinks.

“But I don’t understand why you’re so curious. Or where we are. Or why we’re here.”

Regulus presses a hand to his head, rubbing his temple. She’s going in circles. Between this meeting and the last, she’s given very little in terms of anything helpful. He needs something else. He needs another option. He needs someone who understands the Dark Lord, who knew him when-

No. 

It’s a stupid idea.

Truly. 

And yet…

Fuck it, Regulus decides, giving Merope a tight lipped smile. He guesses she’s given as good as she has to give. He looks at Harold. “Can you dismiss her?”

“Once again you’re assuming I have literally any control over this situation.” Harold shrugs. “I’m just tied here.” 

“Why you?”

Harold holds his gaze. “I’m not sure. I must’ve had a larger impact on you than I thought. That or you don’t know any other dead people.”

“I do,” Regulus says, frowning slightly. He’d have liked to see Alphard, or maybe even Monty. Actually, scratch that last one. Seeing Monty and knowing he basically killed him would be too much. 

“Can I see my son?” Merope asks, and Regulus drops the stone back onto the desk. Both she and Harold disappear in a second.

"Care to fill me in?" Snape gripes.

Regulus does, finishing with a new thought. “I have an idea,” he says slowly.

“What is it?”

“I have to go see someone.”

“Who? I’ll come.”

“No.” Regulus stands, already a little ashamed and defeated. “I need to do this on my own.”

“But-”

“Go to your room. I don’t want you in here when I’m not.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Snape gripes, but stands anyway and turns to the door. “You’ll tell me where you went when you come back, though, right?”

“Probably not.” Regulus shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Must you be so difficult?”

“Yes. Now get out.”

Snape leaves and Regulus turns back towards the window, scrubbing his face with his hands and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t want to do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. But compared to the multitudes of other things he's really not wanted to do, he supposes it’s manageable. 

“Kreature,” He calls, and sighs.

 

---

 

Dumbledore’s sitting at his desk in his office when Regulus knocks. The ministry building he’s occupying stands tall and imposing, all winding corridors and dark wood. Regulus got a few weird looks when he walked in, but the disguise he’s wearing seemed to do the trick. 

“Come in,” the Headmaster calls, and the door magically swings open. 

Regulus takes a few steps in, shutting it behind him. “Sir.”

Dumbledore looks up, peering at him over his spectacles. His brows pinch slightly as he looks Regulus up and down. “And who might you be?”

Regulus says nothing, moving further in, and Dumbledore sits up slightly. “I have some questions,” Regulus says. 

“I’d be happy to answer them once you remove the disguise,” he says calmly. Regulus sighs. He’s shocked he got this far, honestly. He waves his wand and lets his glamour fall back, staring Dumbledore down.

The headmaster has the nerve to look unsurprised, tilting his head. “Mr. Black. I thought you might never show up. If you’ll kindly excuse the current lodgings- the Ministry still desperately wants me to work with them, and while I might refuse, I decided not to turn down the free summer office.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes, moving towards the desk and sinking into a seat without waiting for permission. “I need information on the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore seems to understand, smiling softly. He always guessed Regulus was a traitor. He must’ve seen it in his eyes, somehow. Still, Regulus thought his dramatic reveal would get a bit more of a reaction. “Does this mean you’ll agree to work with the Order?”

“Absolutely not.”

“And yet I have something you need.”

“So do I,” Regulus grits, already frustrated. “I will never be a part of the Order. That doesn’t mean I don’t have questions.” 

“Well of course you couldn’t be a part of the Order.” Dumbledore nods towards his arm. “They’d never accept that, not with that mark.”

Regulus desperately wants to leave. He forces himself to hold his ground. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Dumbledore runs a hand down his beard, looking for all the world like someone who’s plan is going exactly right. “You need information?”

“Yes.”

“About Voldemort?”

“About Tom Riddle.”

At that, Dumbledore sits back. He eyes Regulus with a newfound interest, eyes twinkling. “Ah. Tom.” 

“He was a student,” Regulus says. “With a keen interest in the Dark Arts. He had to have been on your radar.”

“And how did you learn about Mr. Riddle?”

Regulus shrugs. “I have my sources.” 

“And yet you need another.” Dumbledore pours himself some tea from the set on his desk. It’s still steaming, so Regulus guessed it’s been enchanted to stay hot. “Tea?”

“Is that a joke?”

“My apologies.” Dumbledore takes a long sip, and winks. “Tom did stand out to me, even before he took a turn for the worse.”

“How so?”

Dumbledore sets the cup down on the desk, fixing him with an appraising look. Regulus groans internally. “Fine. I do have something you’d like to know. Need to, maybe, if you still want to win this war.”

“Go on.”

“No,” Regulus says, feeling like a little kid. “You first.”

Dumbledore nods in understanding. “Very well. I was the one that brought Tom to school. He spent his childhood in a boy’s home after his mother died.”

“Merope,” Regulus says instinctually and takes great pleasure in the way Dumbledore’s eyes widen slightly. 

“I believe that was her name, yes. Regardless, Tom was always… difficult. He had a dark air about him that was impossible not to sense. He was always asking strange questions. Most of the professors were quite scared of him, actually.”

Regulus hums. “What kind of questions?”

“Just about different spells and curses. As you said- dark magic.”

Regulus searches Dumbledore’s face. “Horcruxes.”

The headmaster blinks in surprise. “My, you’ve certainly done your research, Mr. Black.”

“You know, then.”

“I know a lot about Riddle. More than you may think.”

“So why haven’t you started going after them, then? The horcruxes?”

“That would imply I knew where and what they were.” Dumbledore looks at him over his glasses. “Do you? Is there something I should know?”

“No,” Regulus half-lies. “But I know there are more than one.”

“Four,” Dumbledore says, and Regulus goes still. Four. That's… good. That’s a number, definitive and certain. 

“How do you know? Did he tell you?”

“He told a good friend,” Dumbledore says slowly. “Who wasn’t as loyal as he thought.”

“Evidently.” Regulus sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Why… what’s your angle here? What’s to stop me from reporting back to the Dark Lord and letting him in all the crucial information you know?”

“Oh, Tom knows I know. He practically told me about the Horcruxes himself. He finds his security in the fact that he’s the sole person who knows where they are.” Dumbledore smiles gently. “And I don’t think you’ll tell him. Any true death eater doesn’t bear their mark with such shame.”

“I-” Regulus cuts himself off, considering. He supposes there’s no use denying it anymore. “Fine. Okay. So… four?”

“As far as I know.” Dumbledore takes another sip of tea. “Mr. Black… is there anything pertaining to horcruxes you should share? Do you have any sort of lead?  Need I remind you- this could save lives.”

“No.”

Dumbledore, for the first time, has the decency to look slightly annoyed. “If we could put Order members on a horcrux task force, it would be a lot easier to-”

“No.” Regulus has made up his mind. A task force would be the worst option. “I- whatever happens, whatever I do or don’t do, I need to do it.”

“While chivalry is admirable, sometimes the fame of success isn’t always worth the price. If you think accomplishing this monumental task alone will cleanse you of your sins in the eyes of wizarding society, then you may need to rethink your motivations.” 

Regulus burns with anger, potentially misdirected but fiery all the same. “This isn't chivalry. If I can do this, even if I can't, even if I die trying, at least it's me. I’m spareable. This war can be won without me- why not use that to my advantage? I’ll do it, if only so they don’t have to.” 

Dumbledore’s lips twitch upwards. “Are you sure you’re in the right house, Mr. Black?”

Regulus considers that. Once upon a time, he’d say no. He’d fade into that small little boy, convinced his only purpose in life was to follow his brother. And then the older boy, convinced if it was possible to be loved as strongly as he was by such a pure Gryffindor as James Potter, surely he couldn’t be all bad right? Now though, he knows the truth. Dumbledore thinks he wants to be a hero, thinks he wants to be brave. But the truth of the matter, the very root of it, is:

“I’m doing this for myself. I don’t want them to die, because I don’t want to lose them. I’m being selfish.”

Dumbledore nods slowly. “I’ve always admired Slytherins, you know.”

Regulus works not to laugh. “That’s a lie. All those Gryffindors-”

“Yes, well. They always made it easy to support them, to lift them up. They lend themselves to success. They are optimistic, oftentimes to a fault. Slytherins, though, are always a bit better at being honest about themselves and the world around them. They call it like they see it- that’s an honorable trait.”

Regulus says nothing. He wonders when an honorable trait crosses the line and becomes a justification for pure prejudice. 

“You really do still care for your brother, don’t you?” Dumbledore asks, and it feels like a punch to the gut.

Regulus looks up slowly, focusing on the glint in the older man’s eyes. “Will you use that against me?”

“Only if I have to.”

“Right.”

“May I ask how you found out? About Tom and his horcruxes?”

“You may not.”

“Mm.” Dumbledore studies him. 

“Did he ever visit his old family home?” Regulus asks cautiously, careful not to give away too much. “Do you know?”

Dumbledore nods. “The Gaunts? Once, I believe. At the end of his seventh year, he asked for a weekend off campus to pay his extended family a visit.”

Regulus bites his lip, lost in thought. So Tom somehow finds out about his family home and goes to visit- finding his distant relatives contrary and argumentative, probably speaking against his late mother. He notices the ring because Merope’s brother flaunts it with such pride, recognizes the stone in the middle, and takes it. 

“Have you been back since? Have you spoken with the relatives?”

“Spoken-” Dumbledore pauses. “Oh. You don’t know.”

Regulus blinks. “What?”

“Tom found his father and killed him. After, he returned to Morfin- Merope’s brother- and convinced him he did it by altering his memories. He left Morfin to confess to the crime.” Dumbledore says everything matter-of-factly, as if Regulus really should’ve heard by now.

“Oh,” Regulus says softly. And then: “Merope will be devastated.”

Dumbledore gives him an odd look. “...Merope has been dead for over 30 years.” 

“Merope would be devastated,” Regulus hastily corrects. In his head, he revises his version of the story. Tom kills his father, uses that murder to turn the ring into a horcrux, and then absconds with the stone after letting Morfin take the fall for his actions.

It makes sense. He’s not almost certain the ring is the first horcrux. It has to be. And if they get this out of the way- well. Only three to go.

Regulus stands up slowly, lost in thought. “...I have to go.”

“Mr. Black.” Dumbledore doesn’t move, but the look in his eye fixes Regulus to the spot. “This was intended to be a trade of information. You have not yet delivered.”

Regulus nods, remembering. He moves towards the exit as he talks. “Oh. Right. Yeah- there’s a traitor in the Order. A spy.” He turns to give Dumbledore one last smirk. “A bit ironic, isn’t it?”

Dumbledore shifts slightly, hand twitching on the desk. “Who?”

Regulus shrugs. “I have no idea." He says honestly. "Might wanna figure that out.” And then he’s gone, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

 

---

 

Regulus dreams of a snake, with fangs that drag on the floor and eyes that track every movement in the room. And then he is the snake, and now not only can he see the fear in the faces that watch him, but he can smell it too.

There’s a boy in front of him, with dark curls and a haunted look in his eye. He’s on the ground, staring, every inch of him trembling in fear. He doesn’t want to be here, the snake suspects. Not really. But here he is- and he’ll do anything the snake asks. The darkness festering inside him is obvious- growing and turning. It was put there a long time ago, planted like a seed, like a bomb, waiting till the time strikes. 

The snake moves closer, slithering up the boy’s body until its head is level with his. The boy might say something, but the snake is beyond listening. There’s no point to that now. His fear oozes off him in waves, sickeningly sweet and dangerously addictive. 

The snake sinks its fangs into the boy's neck, relishing in the gush of blood. 

Regulus wakes up drenched in sweat and shaking. 

 

---

 

“I feel like there are better ways to go about this,” Snape says from behind Regulus.

Regulus says nothing, wishing he left him at home. The house in front of him ( house being a generous term- when Merope referred to it as a shack she was not exaggerating) leans slightly to the left, wood panels stripping from the walls. It looks like it’d collapse under the lightest of breezes. Regulus has no idea how it’s supposedly housing one of the darkest artifacts known to man. 

He believes it, though, because everything in him is rioting and turning about, twisting like a den of snakes. That horrid, rotten feeling the Dark Lord manifested in him months ago rears its ugly head, sending his stomach tumbling. It’s the worst it’s been in a long time, and its presence only confirms his fears. 

“There will be curses,” he says after a moment, stealing his courage. “And hexes, and jinxes, and whatever else you can think of. If this is truly a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, he’ll have guarded it with everything he has.”

Snape steps up next to him. “Are we sure about this?”

Regulus gives him a look. “Do you want Lily to live? Her death would be on your hands.”

Snape swallows, going pale. “That wouldn’t…”

“We’re not Gryffindors,” Regulus says, focusing back on the shack in front of them. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be bloody cowards.” 

“We don’t even know what we’re walking into. That doesn’t seem brave, just stupid.”

“Well. We know what a horcrux is. We know there’s a good chance there’s one inside that shack. We know it’ll be protected heavily and will take some work to actually get to. We know how to destroy it.” 

“And you have the fang?”

Regulus rests a hand on the bag hanging at his hip. “I have the fang.”

“Good.”

They go quiet for another minute, staring at the house in front of them. The wind ripples over the overgrown grasses surrounding them. 

“Let’s get it over with, then.” Snape takes a step forward, then another, and Regulus forces himself to follow. With each step the moldy, rotten feeling gets worse, and by the time they reach the house Regulus has to stop, bending over slightly and trying not to be sick. His head spins, dizziness wracking him with such force he sways dangerously on his feet. It’s the proximity to the house, he realizes, that’s doing this to him.

Because of course it is. 

They stop right in front of the door, taking a minute to catch their breaths. Regulus moves onto the creaky porch, hoping his feet don’t go straight through the rotten boards. 

Okay. 

It’s fine. 

He can do this. 

It has to be him. 

Because if it’s not him, then it’ll be Remus, or Sirius, or James. And if something happens- then what? 

Then there’s nothing worth saving, and everything anyone’s done has gone to waste. 

So it has to be him. 

If not for himself, then for Sirius. And if not for Sirius, for James. And if not for James, for Saskia. 

It’s really the least he can do for her. 

He clears his throat, sucking in a deep inhale of clean country air. His head spins. “Ready?”

Snape steps up next to him, clutching his wand like a lifeline. “Yeah,” he croaks. Regulus reaches for the doorknob. For Saskia, he thinks again.

Then his fingers touch the metal, and his world explodes into pain.

 

Notes:

ok ok! once again, the obligatory 'sorry for posting late' message- my bad folks!! Not that I have a schedule, but still.
So the thing with snape- obviously in the original story lily's death is what pushes him to help kill voldy, right? but since I'm being nice and this fic isn't canon compliant, I just kinda shifted his motivations around while attempting to maintain that awfulness which makes him one of the most hated characters.
ok and on that note about this fic not being canon compliant, it's not. It is, however, canon adjacent. All of the main characters (wolfstar and jegulus) will be fine and happy. That being said, uhhhh I'm not making any promises about the rest of 'em. I'm warning you a few chapters ahead as to not spoil anything but like... yeah. so have fun with that!
also I have no idea how the gaunt family works i was confused when i first read the book and im confused trying to understand it now so i gave up and decided that we’re already so far from canon it doesn’t matter.
and yeah there are four Horcruxes in this universe bc I didn't want to write about all seven and I'm pretty sure you guys wouldn't want to read that either. My excuse is that Voldemort hasn't made all of them yet so really they're just getting ahead of the game.
I love the idea of a snape/reg team up but gosh do I hate writing about Snape lol
ALSO!! one last note I'm so sorry this is so long- this is the start of the arc in this fic I have been the most excited to write about. I know these past chapters have been plot heavy, and while that may not change for a bit, the plot I have planned is real juicy emotionally. I'm so ready. It's going to be so satisfying and fun to write. So thank you for bearing with me!! (in both the fic and this author's note lol) Let me know what you think!!

Chapter 57: The Ring

The worst pain Regulus's ever experienced has been at the hands of the cruciatus. It’s the worst pain anyone’s ever experienced- because it’s designed to be. There’s nothing you can do once it hits you but wait for it to be over. There’s no making peace with the pain. There’s no breathing through it. There’s only waiting. 

Regulus crumples to his knees in front of the door. This isn’t the cruciatus. It's not nearly as painful. Because in this state he can still see the ground infront of him, still focus on sucking air into his lungs, still try to wrap his head around what the fuck is happening. It's a different pain- not sharp and all consuming but dull and aching, lingering in his chest, surrounding that feeling of horrendous rot and decay and pulling it to the surface. In fact, it's less pain and more discomfort- all consuming and overwhelming, but not agonizing.

He clenches his hands into fists on his knees and tries not to cry. His eyes sting as the feeling forces him to bite his lip. It’s fine. It’s bearable. Someone’s speaking, he realizes distantly. 

“Black? What the fuck was that? Is the doorknob cursed? Should we turn around?”

“No,” Regulus chokes, because they’ve made it this far. “No. I just. No.”

Snape grabs his arm and pulls him to his feet, steadying him when Regulus stumbles shakily. “I’m not touching that door.”

Regulus gives him the sharpest look he can manage in his current state. “I don’t know how to break whatever curse that is,” He says. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Then we’re going in.”

“You’re going to get us killed.”

“You don’t have to follow me,” Regulus says, turning back to the door and gathering his courage. The worst is over, surely. It has to be.

Before he can think better of it, he reaches out and twists the handle, pulling it open. Immediately the pain comes back, swarming his every nerve and dulling his senses till all he can feel is one large ache somewhere behind his sternum. He sways on the threshold, leaning onto the door frame for support. It feels like there are bugs in his head, or maybe ghosts, crawling around his mind and whispering echoes that bounce off the walls of his skull. 

Then someone’s pushing him and he stumbles through, feet connecting with the floor on the other side of the door. The pain recedes dramatically- not gone, not even close, but less . Regulus sucks in a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his middle and looking around. The shack appears to be just two rooms, judging by the side door to the left. It’s all wood paneling and cracking paint, everything covered in at least two inches of dust. 

He takes a shuddering breath and turns to look back at Snape. “Coming?”

Snape stares at him from the threshold. “How bad did it hurt?”

“It’s nothing like the cruciatus. You’ll be fine.”

“I’ve never been crucioed.”

“Oh. Then yeah. It hurts a bit.” Regulus sways slightly. “Come on.”

Snape squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, pushing through the door. Regulus stays rooted to the spot, making no move to be ready to catch him if he falls. It wouldn’t matter anyway- Regulus doesn’t think he’s in any position to help. Most likely they’d both go down. 

In the end, Snape doesn’t fall. He simply steps through the door, stands stock-still for a minute, and then opens his eyes. He blinks. “Uh.”

“Are you kidding me?” Regulus hisses. 

“Well.”

“Nothing?”

“Maybe I’m less susceptible to pain than you.”

“I really don’t think that’s the case.” Regulus sways again. “We can examine this later. Where do you wanna start?” 

“Of our two options?” Snape asks, looking around. “I’d say the room we’re currently in wouldn’t be a bad choice.” 

Regulus takes a step and grounds himself, raising his wand and catching a detection spell. Immediately the entire place lights up, every surface buzzing with magic. It overwhelms both of them, flaring up around the room and making it hard to see. 

“Ok,” Snape manages and Regulus pulls back the spell. “So. We won’t find it like that.”

“Maybe not,” Regulus breathes in awe, looking around. “This place is covered in charms and curses. More than we thought. The Dark Lord went all out. I didn’t even know he was capable of magic like this.”

“He managed to split his soul a number of times,” Snape mutters. “I don’t think this is the extent of what he can do.”

“Four,” Regulus says. “Four times. That’s… not that many.”

“You and I both know how much pure dark magic it takes to split your soul even once. But four?” Snape clicks his tongue.

Regulus sways again. “I need to get out of here soon. We should hurry up.”

Snape gives him an odd look. “Why is this affecting you so strongly?” 

“I don’t…” Regulus presses a hand to his head, trying to get himself under control. Everything aches. “I don’t know.”

Snape nods. “I’ll check the other room. You wanna search this one?”

“Fine.”

Snape walks away, each step sending the floor complaining loudly. “Scream if you need help.”

Regulus flips him off and turns back to the room, taking a few steps before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the stone. This time when he turns it, both Merope and Harold appear instantly.

“Merope,” Regulus whispers, watching her take in her surroundings.

“No, no, no-” She hisses. “I can’t be back here. I can’t- I can’t-”

“It’s okay, nothing can touch you,” Regulus says. “Literally nothing can happen to you. It’s good you found me so quickly this time. It’s you I’m looking for.” He glances at Harold. “No offense.”

Harold waves him off and looks around, shivering a bit. “Where… where are we?”

“The shack,” Merope chokes. “The shack in Little Hangleton. My… my family home.”

“Do you see anything out of place?” Regulus asks. “We’re looking for the ring.”

“The ring,” Harold says with a small breath. “You… you’re doing it?”

“I told you,” Regulus says, holding his gaze.

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

“Nothing’s out of place,” Merope says, after a moment. Her voice stays shaky. “There’s a dark energy here, though, that’s new.”

“Yeah,” Regulus grits as a new wave of dizziness passes over him. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Harold frowns. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Regulus moves towards a desk, attempting to steady himself but instead gripping on to it as he sinks to the ground. “It’s…”

“What’s going on?”

Regulus can’t lift his head, letting it drop to his chest as he works on getting air into his lungs. He can’t imagine what he must look like, weak and defeated on his knees next to the wall. “‘m fine,” he mumbles when he can manage. 

Reaching up, he pulls open the drawer to the desk and sits up to peer inside, shifting around its contents. “Nothing,” he mutters. “We’re going to have to pull apart the walls.”

“Don’t,” Merope says. “I want Tom to have a home to come back to.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Harold says, and she sends him a withering glare.

“You know nothing.”

“Merope,” Regulus interrupts. “If you had to hide something in this place, where’d you choose?”

Merope’s eyes glaze over, going fuzzy and having a hard time focusing on him again. “Under the floorboards,” She says eventually. “I put everything under the floorboards.”

“Should I start in here?” Regulus asks, pulling himself up. 

 “I don’t… I don’t want you ruining my home.” Merope takes a step forward. “It belongs to my son.” 

Regulus and Harold exchange a look. She was obviously going to be of no help. “Can you…. can you go back into the void?”

“What?”

“I mean.” Regulus cuts himself off and hums, searching for the words. “Well. I don’t actually know how it works, but is there a way I can dismiss you?”

“I think you have to drop the stone,” Harold says, and Regulus looks at him quickly.

“But…” Regulus trails off into nothingness, trying to sort out the conflicting emotions that surface at Harold’s words. He finds, to his absolute shock, that he doesn’t want Harold gone. His presence, while slightly nerve-wracking, has been comforting all the same. “I don’t want you to go,” Regulus voices, tone cracking and tearing at the edges.

“It’s fine,” Harold says, shrugging. “I’ll still be here. You just won’t be able to see me.”

Another round of pain washes over Regulus, sending him wilting sideways into the wall. The fear, the terror, that seeps from the boards of this place flows into every inch of him, consuming his very being. “Fine,” He mutters, because Merope has started to look slightly angry, taking a few steps towards him. “Fine.”

With one last look at Harold he drops the stone back into his pocket, taking a shuddering breath when they disappear in an instant. Alone, he pushes off the wall and searches the ground, looking for any loose boards. “This is pointless,” he mutters out loud.

He makes his way into the middle of the room, turning in circles. “Accio ring,” he mutters in a last ditch effort. Nothing happens. 

He drops to his knees again, telling himself it’s only to see the floorboards better and ignoring the creeping fatigue in his every bone. He runs his hands over the wood floor, pressing and prodding at different spots. Eventually something gives and the board dips beneath his fingers. Regulus lets out a breath and sits back, stealing himself. He leans forwards again, ready to lift the board, when something… happens. 

The entire room goes black, darkness flooding in through every window and crack of the room. It’s suffocating, engulfing and all-consuming, making Regulus scramble back and reach for his wand. “Lumos,” He whispers, waiting with bated breath. Nothing happens. “Lumos,” He hisses again, a bit more aggressive. 

Nothing.

His heartbeat picks up, breaths becoming slightly more shallow. “Uh-” He manages out loud. “Snape?”

No response.

He forces himself to suck in a shallow inhale, wincing as a pang of pain shoots through him. Crawling forward he gropes around in the dark, fingers skimming over the boards again till he finds the one that triggered this. Maybe… 

He presses it again. Nothing. 

He mumbles a curse and sits back, grip tight around his wand. He doesn’t entirely know what to do in this situation. 

And, right as he’s about to crawl towards the wall and attempt to feel for the door, something happens. A candle, plain and simple, materializes in the air in front of him. Its wick flickers to a flame, casting a soft glow in the air around it. Regulus stares at it, leaning forward slightly. He glances around, looking for some source or culprit. Finding none, Regulus frowns.

It must be a good sign, though, he thinks. Any sort of magical admission had to mean he was close to the source. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and touches the wax gently. It’s warm to the touch, giving just slightly under his fingers. 

As soon as he makes contact with the candle, the flame jumps suddenly. It grows, flickering towards the ceiling, and once again Reguls scrambles back across the floor. His chest aches.

Clutching his wand, he watches as the flame rises and rises, growing with every second. The room, in turns, lights up, sending the entire space aglow with orange.

Regulus’s breath stutters, fear creeping in from every angle. He doesn’t- he doesn’t know what to do. He needs to get Snape out of here. He needs to get himself out of here. 

The flame licks at the ceiling, not burning, just… flickering. It morphs, changing shape and size, tendrils of flames elongating. Soon enough the fire forms itself into a rough outline of a person, large and towering over Regulus.

Regulus can’t breathe, choking on smoke. He blindly casts a spell, not caring which one. It passes through the flame ricocheting off the wall behind it. The flame-man bends at the waste, funneling from the candle like a genie from a lamp. “Regulus,” it whispers, soft and flickering. “Regulus.” It almost sounds like Parseltounge, slimy and winding, slithering into Regulus’s ear and taking route in his brain. “Touch the flame,” it says.

Regulus- confused, aching, and scared- just backs up some more, trying to force anything other than acrid black smoke into his lungs.  “N-no,” He chokes out, sending another curse through the fire. 

“Wouldn’t it be better, though?” The flame man bends lower and lower, head hanging over Regulus’s. 

“No,” Regulus manages again. “ No .” It’s a trick, he thinks. A mirage. A trap. Anything to keep him away from the horcrux. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier? Wouldn’t it be right ?”

Distantly, Regulus notices how warm the column of fire is. Warm and inviting, crackling and popping in the darkness. Regulus hasn’t been warm in a long time. Not since…

“It wouldn’t,” He forces out, begging his mind to get back on track. “I’m… I’m doing the right thing. I need to see it through.” 

The flame-thing laughs, a hissing burning sound that sends plumes of smoke billowing from the base of the candle. “You don’t think you could actually be a good person, do you? Even now?” The fire leans closer. “After what you did to Saskia?”

Regulus chokes, the sound torn straight from the dark part of his chest he’s been doing his best to ignore. The bag at his hip seems to burn. The flame man shifts, arms changing form, and Regulus can’t tell if it’s Harold or James that he reminds him of, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still changing, no longer a man, elongating and forming into something else. A serpent. A snake. No- a basilisk.

Regulus screws his eyes shut. 

“Little Prince,” She hisses, the words drenched in a burning honey. And, oh. How long he’s waited to hear her say that name. Closer and closer she slithers, the flames of her body licking the floor. Impossibly, Regulus crawls even further back. Her fiery jaw creaks open. “You think, after everything you did to me, you don’t deserve to burn?”

And he does.

He really, really does.

But somewhere through the haze, distant and fuzzy and all too far away-

For you I would burn, Regulus Black. 

Once, a long time ago, Regulus was loved. Entirely, wholly. Even if that’s gone now, even if that hardly even happened in the first place, Regulus is still the same person he was then. He’s still the boy James Potter used to love. That, in of itself, means there has to be something in him worth saving.

There’ll be a time, Regulus is sure, when the call of the flame will be sweet enough for him to reach out and grab it. But that day is not today, and if he can help it, won’t be any day soon. He has a job to do.

“You aren’t her,” he spits, and shifts, crawling forward, diving across the floor, shimmying under the flames that lick at his back. He sees the fire, sees it source, and pushes closer, ducking down, and then- 

And then he blows the candle out. 

Instantly the pillar of flame disappears, gone with a gentle breeze. Only a tiny trail of smoke drifts from the fantom wick. 

“Oh,” Regulus says stupidly, sitting back. He blinks, attempting to get his heart rate back under control. He tries to rub soot out of his eyes, which proves to be a bad idea. When he regains his vision, the candle’s gone. 

He bends down and pulls up the floorboard, cursing embarrassingly loudly when he’s greeted by nothing but dust and dirt. A distraction, then. Quite the deadly one. Making his way to his feet, Regulus sways and immediately tips over. He catches himself on the wall, groaning as another wave of that god-awful rotten pain shoots through him. Without the rush of adrenaline fed by the fire monster, he’s left exhausted and drained.

He needs to get out of this shack.

“Snape?” He calls, coughing up another round of soot. “You alright?”

No answer. 

Carefully Regulus pushes his way towards the other room, keeping one hand on the wall just in case he goes down. He shoves the door open, stumbling in. And then he pauses. 

Snape is on his knees on the floor, an ornately carved wooden box sitting in front of him. Judging by the state of the boards around him, he had to pry it from the dirt under the shack. 

“Snape?” Regulus whispers, stepping farther in. Snape's eyes are closed, though Regulus notices the rapid movement behind his eyelids. Regulus kneels next to him, snapping in his face. “Snape. Wake up.”

He’s not stupid. He knows it’s a curse. He just has no idea what it is or what to do about it. Tentatively, he reaches towards the small wooden box. As soon as his fingers close around the lid, everything changes. Suddenly the world melts away, the floor and ceiling and walls of the Gaunt shack disappearing and fading into nothing. Regulus doesn’t have time to panic before he’s materializing somewhere else, and the floor and sky come into focus. But this isn’t the shack- no. 

The sky above him burns blue, complementing the gentle wind that whips around them. There are trees, he realizes as everything fades in. Trees he knows. Voices chime in surrounding him, people materializing out of thin air. Regulus turns in a slow circle, already overwhelmed. “What the fuck,” he hisses under his breath. His first thought is that the box is a portkey, taking them somewhere else. But he’s not here, not really. It’s like stepping into a pensive, foggy mists of someone else's memories surrounding them. No, not someone- Snape.

Regulus turns to his side, finding Snape standing stock still next to him, eyes locked on the scene ahead. “Snape,” Regulus whispers. The other boy doesn’t move, greasy black hair hiding his face. After a second he turns, just a little, to glance at Regulus. 

He swallows harshly. “Guess you decided to show up.”

“Where are we? What’s going on?”

“You touched the box, didn’t you.”

“Where are we?” Regulus repeats. A crowd of giggling children push past him onto the grass. He knows those robes- Hufflepuffs. They’re at Hogwarts. 

“Fourth year.” Snape answers, shifting on his feet. “The box was… cursed.”

“I picked up on that,” Regulus says dryly, taking a step forward. “So this is your memory?”

“Not this,” Snape motions. He lets out a long breath and points. “That.”

Regulus follows his finger, blinking at the sight in front of them. The students have gathered into a circle, forming a ring around a much younger Snape in the center. He’s got his wand drawn, clutched in shaky fingers. “Stay back!” he shouts, and his voice rings out nasally and high as ever. Regulus grabs Snapes arm and draws them even closer, until they’re among the first row of kids. That’s when he sees him.

James.

Younger and boyish, the angles of his jaw have yet to sharpen. His glasses, different frames then he has now, sit only slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose. He’s grinning, happy, and Regulus can’t help but think he looks pure like this. Uncorrupted. Untroubled. Regulus’s heart aches, throbbing at the sight of him. James, too, has his wand drawn, advancing on Snape. “What’s happening?” Regulus murmurs. 

“Watch,” The Snape next to him spits. 

“Fuck off, Potter,” Younger Severus cries. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you with Mulciber when he wrote that shit on the wall.” Sirius steps out from behind James, and Regulus is almost sure Snape’s memory has diststored his brother’s face. He never looked that self-satisfied at that age. Not when Regulus saw him. 

“Would it matter if I was?” Snape crosses his arms, taking a few steps back. “It’s not like it isn’t true.”

“What was it you wrote, again?”

Young Snape narrows his eyes, shoulders stiffening. “Mulc-”

“No.” James steps forward. “What did you write?”

Snape lifts his chin. “End the Mudblood menace.”

That’s all it takes. James flicks his wand, spitting a curse, watching with glee as some invisible force yanks Snape’s feet out from under him and lifts him, upside down, into the air. He dangles there, kicking, and James just laughs.

“I didn’t mean it,” The older Snape mumbles next to Regulus. Regulus glances at him. 

“You still wrote it, though, didn’t you.”

Snape shrugs, staring as his younger self struggles midair. “Mulciber said he’d tell the whole house I was a traitor if I didn’t. That I was weak.”

“And that was enough for you to ruin everything with Evans,” Regulus says. “Your reputation.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” Snape hisses, and Regulus stays silent. 

“Let me down!” The Snape in the memory thrashes, robes falling over his head.

James grins, sharp, predatory, and Regulus sees something he doesn’t recognize in his eyes. 

“James, leave it. It’s fine. Let him go.” Evans pushes her way through the crowd, sparing Snape the sharpest of glances. The Severus next to him stiffens.

“Lily!” James gives her a blinding smile. “Welcome to the show.”

“I’m being serious,” she hisses, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Sirius’s face lights up. “No, I’m-”

“Shut up,” at least half the circle groans. 

“Merlin. Fine.”

“James,” Lily repeats, and James looks back at her. “Please.”

“He- you saw what he wrote.”

“Yeah, and it was awful, but I can fight my own battles. You don’t have to speak for me. Just- just let him down.” 

James looks back up at the struggling Severus, obviously conflicted. Lily reaches out, catching his arm. He immediately turns all his attention back to her, eyes fixed on the point of contact. Regulus actually watches him soften, gaze melting and lips parting slightly. Something in Regulus crumbles. He feels Snape stiffen next to him as the two of them take in the scene. 

“We need to focus,” Regulus whispers, gaze locked on James’s. “We need to find a way out of here.”

“I can’t figure out how.” Snape mutters miserably as Sirius laughs.

“Occlumency,”  Regulus says, getting an idea. “The box- the curse- it’s trying to distract us, right? Keep us busy? It’s showing you one of your worst memories to trap you in here. Look at your hands.”

Snape glances down, surprised. Where Regulus’s body is see-through, slightly transparent, Snape’s fingers are starting to fill in with real color. “You’ll be stuck unless we get out of here now,” Regulus hisses.

“How?”

“I know Occlumency, but there isn’t really time to teach you. I don’t-”

“I learned Occlumency.” Snape interrupts. Regulus glances at him, surprised.

“Really?”
“I can manage a few things on my own, Black.”

“And you didn't think to use it to get out of here? Ok. Fine. Whatever. Just focus on finding the connection obviously tied to this memory and sever it. Can you feel anything intruding on your mind?”

Snape closes his eyes, flinching when his younger self lets out a shriek above them. “Concentrate,” Regulus hums. 

Sirius groans, pressing his hands to his temple and screwing up his face. Regulus sincerely hopes he doesn’t look like that when Bella’s in his head. “I can’t,” Snape mutters. 

“This memory is at the front of your mind, right? Bury it, isolate it, do whatever you do to temporarily banish it. Don’t give the curse any access.”

Slowly, the world around them begins to shift, the edges of the scene fraying and disbanding. 

Regulus looks back at James, wrapping his arms around himself and wishing he could talk to him. Wishes he could see what he was like, really like, before everything fell apart. 

The sky cracks above them, turning to mist and raining down as the floor drops out from under them. Then Snape and Regulus are falling, down, down, back into a world that’s almost definitely worse. They snap back into their bodies with a sort of sick undulating feeling that accompanies pulling out of a pensive. They take twin gasping breaths, adjusting to the multiple harsh jumps through reality.

Then Snape shouts in warning and Regulus blearily looks down, eyes going wide when he sees he’s still touching the box.

Shit.

And immediately reality gets ripped away again, throwing them through space as they’re projected into another memory. “I’m gonna be sick,” Snape groans when they land, clasping a hand over his mouth and groaning.

Regulus, in muted horror, finds himself agreeing.

They’ve found themselves in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place standing by the door. Regulus knows exactly where they are. He knows exactly what night it is. He can’t feel his limbs, can’t feel anything as he stares at the scene before them.

Sirius, on his hands and knees on the carpet, swaying from side to side as he trembles. Walburga standing over him, wand pointed at his back. Orion next to the couch. And in front of him, Regulus. 

“Agree,” Walburga hisses, jabbing Sirius in the back of the head. “Take the Mark. You knew this was coming.”

“Never,” Sirius spits, and his words come out coated in blood.

Regulus, the real Regulus, can’t move. He can’t breathe. Because this- this night, this scene- this is the last thing he wants to see. The last thing he wants Snape to see. 

“What’s- what’s happening?” Snape whispers, but he sounds nervous, unsure, staying rooted to the spot. 

“I- I don’t-” Regulus can’t get a real word out, doing his best to focus on staying upright.

“Well. Crucio’s are boring.” Walburga says, raising her wand. “I guess we’ll have to get creative. Start experimenting.”

Regulus looks at the younger version of himself for the first time, taking in his expression. His face looks torn apart, eyes wide and full of unshed tears. 

“Regulus,” Snape whispers. “What’s happening.”

Regulus swallows harshly. “I. My brother-”

“Oh.” Snape looks at him. “You need to get us out of here.”

Regulus doesn’t respond, staring at his younger self. He can see his father leaning in, opening his mouth, and the real Regulus takes a step as if he can do anything about it. Little Regulus’s eyes glaze over, and he’s gone. Lost. He moves forward, raising his wand, and Snape sucks in a breath. “What-”

“Diffindo,” Memory-Regulus says, cold and mechanic, wand pointed at Sirius. The blood pours out of him, and there’s so much more than Regulus remembers, soaking the carpet and leaking across the wooden floorboards.

Real Regulus lurches forward, gagging, the stench of hot iron filling the air. Snape wrenches him back, shoving him in the chest. “Focus,” he hisses, and Regulus tries, he really does, because he doesn’t want Snape to see him like this. Doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He sinks to the ground, turning his back to the commotion on the carpet, and shuts his eyes as tightly as he can. He’s gotten so good at occlumency that he can usually do it instinctively- normally he doesn’t really have to think about it. Now, though, he has to find the door in his head and yank it open. It’s old, dusty, but he shoves everything in it anyway. All the pain of hunting the Horcrux. All the embarrassment at having Snape see. All the hope that they might actually get through this alive. 

Everything that's happening behind him. 

It all goes in the room on the other side of the door, packed tight. Far away from reach- out of sight and mind. Regulus grits his teeth, clearing his head and putting everything into envisioning the door closing. 

Please , he begs. Please let me put this away. At least for now. 

I can’t be here anymore.

The muffled cries of his younger self begin to fade, and with them the floor beneath them starts to vaporize. 

Focus. 

None of this matters anymore. 

Picture the ocean.

Picture everything slipping beneath the waves. 

You have a job to do, and it isn’t here. 

He’s cutting off the curse’s access to the memory from the root.

And then he’s falling, vaguely aware of Snape next to him, and he opens his eyes to watch as memory-Regulus stares at his brother on the carpet. Don’t let him go, Regulus wants to scream. And then: forgive him when he does . For a split second, as the world above them melts away, young Regulus’s eyes flick to his, and their gazes lock. 

And then Snape and Regulus are shoved back into their bodies, kneeling on the cold hard floor of the shack. Reality spins around them, disorienting and confusing. Both boys instantly shove away from the box, scrambling backwards on the floor. 

Regulus crawls towards the wall and gags once, twice, before the rush of bile in his throat becomes too much to hold back. The smell of his brother’s acrid blood lingers in his nose, hanging in the air around him. 

When he’s done he hangs his head and takes a few deep breaths. Closing his eyes, he sinks back on to his knees. He puts a hand on the bag at his hip.
Snape shuffles behind him awkwardly. 

“We need to get out of here,” Regulus says quietly. He turns, moving back towards the box in the middle of the room. Something in his stomach pulls him towards it, like a tether tying him to the essence of the object. Snape eyes him warily.

“What the fuck is all over your face? What happened in the other room?”

Regulus blinks at him, realizing he must be covered in soot. He attempts to swipe at his cheek, but judging by the way Snape winces he guesses he just succeeded in smudging it more. He sighs, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I don’t even know,” He grouses. “There was an evil candle. I called for backup but I guess you were busy.”

Snape makes a face and turns back to the box. “I was a little preoccupied, yeah.”

They go quiet for a moment.

“We need to open it.” Regulus says eventually. 

“We don’t even know the ring is a horcrux,” Snape mutters, not looking at him. 

“Yes we do,” Regulus says instinctively.

Snape does look at him then, confused. “How? On what evidence?”

Regulus shrugs. The rot in his stomach twists and turns, the ache that’s been there since the night Voldemort killed Harold infesting every inch of him. “I know.”

“That’s hardly-”

“It only makes sense,” Regulus says hurriedly. It’s a lame excuse, but the weird effect this house is having on him is getting worse by the minute and he desperately wants to be done with this. “Let’s just- let’s just hurry up.”

“How? We can’t touch it. Magic would only provoke it.”

“Billions of people live without magic everyday. We can just…” Regulus looks around, leaning over and grabbing a wooden shard that had been torn loose when Snape ripped up the floorboards. With the sleeve of his sweater covering his hand he grips the bottom of the box, using the wood to pry the lid off. 

As soon as the box opens, Regulus cries out, a shock of pain ripping through his entire body. He doubles over, wrapping his arms around his recently-emptied stomach and gritting his teeth.

“What’s happening?” Snape asks, hovering behind him. Regulus can barely hear him, weak and exhausted.

“I- I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Regulus forces himself to straighten, forces his eyes to focus, and brings his attention back to the box.

There, nestled on a bed of dusty black velvet, lies a small golden ring. 

Neither of them say anything, staring. It’s so plain. So simple. Just a gold band, one side slightly defaced where the stone obviously used to be attached. It doesn't look like a vessel carrying a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. 

“Shit,” Snape mutters. Regulus nods in agreement, reaching a shaky finger towards it. Snape slaps his hand. “Idiot. Don’t touch it.” 

“Right.” Regulus braces an arm on the floor, supporting himself. Another wave of exhaustion washes through him and he works to stay sitting upright. Snape gives him an odd look. 

“You need to do this now. You’re about to pass out.”

Regulus nods, dimly thinking he may be right. Snape grabs the piece of wood from him and carefully extracts the ring from the box, laying it on the floor in front of them. Regulus reaches into his bag and closes his fingers around Saskia’s fang. He extracts it slowly, biting his lip and examining it. It’s yellow, spotty, long and sharp. It should do the trick. That, or they’ve been wrong about everything and the Dark Lord is already after them.

“Just do it,” Snape whispers, and Regulus brings the fang slowly towards the metal. Every inch of his body resists, begging him to end this pain and just put the tooth down. Instead he presses the tip of the fang to the gold, ignoring the devastating flash of pain that sears through him at the contact.

He takes a deep shuddering breath, and thinks of Dorcas.

Whatever it takes. 

He shoves the fang down.

It sinks into the gold like butter, but the second it breaks the metal’s surface Regulus’s arms go limp as he drops forward, suddenly unable to hold himself up. Every inch of his body is screaming, a horrible weakness tearing him from limb to limb. Snape closes his hands over Regulus’s, shoving the fang down further. 

Through the waves of pain, Regulus sees the gold begin to smoke, to bubble, popping and spitting as the venom from the fang infests it. Then it melts into a puddle of metal, an inky black substance polluting the liquid before the entire thing evaporates with a disgusting hiss of smoke. 

Regulus tips over, curling into himself. It’s like there’s a dark mold in his chest, a growing rot that reaches out with unfurling tendrils that wrap around each nerve ending and pull until they snap, one by one, turning his soul inside out. 

This, he thinks, might be worse than the cruciatus. 

Snape’s shaking his shoulder but he can hardly feel it, insides ripping themselves apart. Through bleary eyes he sees the box, tipped on its side and gloriously empty. And as the world around him fades into blackness, Regulus smiles. 

 

---

 

Tom feels it when it happens. It tears through him, sending him stumbling to the nearest chair. His every cell screams in confusion and he reaches out with his magic, feeling for the cause.

Ah. 

They got one.

The ring. 

He lost the stone a while ago, but he thought the ring itself would be safe.

He curses, anger threading through him. He doesn’t know its limit, drowning in rage. Of course that wizened old man figured it out- he always asked too many questions back when Tom was still at school. 

It’s fine, he tries to tell himself as he pants through the pain. It’s fine. This was their mistake. They’ve signed their own death warrant. 

For this, he’ll destroy them. 

 

---

 

James steps out into the garden, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The sun of the dewy english morning, rare and sweet, sends the flowers glowing. His mother, elbow deep and dirt, knees by the stone wall on the other side of the grass. He crosses to her slowly, standing above and looking down at weeds. “Getting all of ‘em?”

Effie glances up, smiling when she sees who it is. “They’re a little stubborn.”

He sinks into a squat, helping her rip up the small plants. “Not too bad.”

They weed in silence for a moment, taking comfort in the sound of their breaths and the early morning bird calls. “School starts in two days,” Effie says. “Are you sad not to be going back?”

James bites his lip. “A little. You know. But I’m doing more here.”

 “Have you talked to Dumbledore recently?”

“No. Should I have? Is there a new mission?”

She shrugs. “There might be. You’ll have to ask him.”

He sighs, digging his fingers into the dirt in front of him. “He never gives me any details.”

“Knowledge is power, and power is dangerous.”

“So he doesn’t trust me?”

“He doesn't trust anyone. He’s learned not to.”

“I just know we could be doing more. He’s not letting us actually do anything important.”

Effie gives him a long look. “You’re young, James. All of you. He doesn’t want to risk losing you.” She shrugs. “I happen to agree with him on that one.”

“That’s not… he needs us.”

“He needs you to do what he tells you. So far, you’re doing a great job.”

James flops back in the grass, staring at the sky. “Ugh.”

“I know.”

“Plus, Sirius and Remus are always going on missions together. Or doing things. Or knowing things. I feel like I’m being kept in the dark.”

Effie struggles to find something to say. “You all have different… skill sets.”

James rolls his eyes. “According to Dumbledore, I have none.”

“That’s not true. You’re incredible with people. Moody’s told me he’s planning on bringing you in for questionings when we detain death eaters.”

“I am not incredible with death eaters.” 

“You get along with Slytherins.”

“Dorcas doesn’t count,” James rolls on his side, playing with the grass in front of his face. “She’s practically a Gryffindor.”

“I was talking about Regulus,” Effie says, yanking on a particularly stubborn dandelion. “But Dorcas works too.”

James turns onto his back, staring at the sky and frowning. “Me and Regulus aren’t that close. I’ve only really talked to him a few times and I’m fairly certain he still hates me.”

Effie laughs. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well-”

And then she says something but James doesn’t quite catch it, a soft buzzing in his ears making it hard to focus. It’s like there’s cotton filling his brain, fuzzing out all her words. When she’s done speaking he turns, screwing up his face and burying it in his hands. He groans out loud, tipping forward and rocking on the grass. 

Effie pauses, looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he spits in frustration. 

She gives him a long look. “Alright. I-”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” He interrupts, “All the time.”

She pauses, setting her gloves down. “How do you mean?”

He lifts and drops a shoulder, sighing. “I mean I can't remember the last time I wasn’t, like… confused. I’m going mental. I can feel it.”

She hums softly, dusting off her lap. “I don’t think you are.”

“So you haven’t noticed anything?”

She pauses, pressing her lips together. He nods, looking away. “Right. That’s what I mean.”

“Maybe… your father’s death was very-”

“This isn’t about dad,” James says defeatedly. He thought it was, maybe even hoped it was, because at least that would be an explanation. But… “It started before that.”

“What is it, exactly?”

He half-heartedly shrugs. “I go fuzzy. My brain shuts down and I can’t think. It’s like my head gets filled with mud. And my chest…” He rubs his sternum absentmindedly. 

“Your chest?”

He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Something’s missing.” He mutters, so softly he would be shocked if she picked up on it.
Miraculously, she does. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea. There’s just… I don’t feel whole. I sound mental, I know, but I… it’s like I’m always looking for something, reaching for something, and it’s just not there.” He lets out a long breath, opening his eyes. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“I don’t think you’re mental,” Effie says, leaning back down to pull up another root. “You’ve gone through a lot, James. You all have. With the war, and your father- Merlin knows no one is handling any of this well.” 

James nods distantly, draping his arms over his face. “Yeah. Sure.”

“It’s true. Give yourself a break.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, wrestling with the simultaneous desire to get her opinion and not freak her out. The former wins, and he takes a small breath. “What if… what if I’m getting sick?”

Her hands freeze in the dirt. “What?”

“What if that’s why I can’t think? What if that’s what’s wrong with me?”

She takes turns to him, expression pinched. “The doctors cast charms to protect us. You know they did. There’d be other signs. You’re fine.”

He stares at her. “What if the charms didn’t work, though? They’re not perfect. I was around dad so much. There’s something wrong with me, Mum, I know there is. I can feel it.”

She shakes her head. “Monty wasn’t like that. He was fine, at least mentally.”

“Yeah, if you call partially ignoring your son mentally sound.”

She snorts, looking down. “You and I both know that was complicated. And either way, he didn’t say things like that. It was nowhere near what you’re describing. You’re fine, James. Let me know if you start growing scales. Then we can talk.” 

He nods, directing his attention back to the clouds and letting out a breath. “Okay.”

“You’ll sort yourself out, love. Don’t worry about it.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe everything will be fine. He rubs his chest again, absentmindedly wondering if the absence inside him is real or imagined. He’s missing something, he’s certain, but he doesn’t know what it is or where to find it.

He can say, at the very least, he won’t stop looking. 

 

---

 

There’s a faint buzzing in the back of Regulus’s head, low and gentle. It’s like a soft sort of static, comforting to a point. He emerges from the darkness slowly, opening his eyes the smallest amount possible. 

For a minute, he has no idea where he is. By all accounts, he should still be lying on the floor of the shack, staring at the crumbling walls. Instead the bed he’s on is, if not comfortable, familiar, and the wall he’s staring at is a well-kept ceiling. He’s in his room, he realizes. Someone took him home and put him on his bed.

The second thing he registers is a hand in his hair, gently stroking it away from his face. His first thought is that Kreature’s hands somehow got a lot softer. He then dismisses the idea entirely and turns his head on the pillow, eyes still half-lidded. He blinks, though, upon seeing his mother seated at his bedside, a strange expression on her face and one hand in his hair. 

“Maman?” He whispers, trying to speak but finding his voice heavy and thick with sleep. 

“Regulus,” She says, combing his hair away from his face one last time before retracting her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Qu'est ce qui s'est passé?” He mumbles, French seeming a little easier than English at the moment. 

“Tu t'es évanoui en préparant la potion avec Snape. Something about the fumes…” She shrugs a little. “Tu devrais être plus attentif.”

He looks back at the ceiling, taking a shuddering breath. So Snape had brought him back. Good. The rotten feeling inside him has receded, giving way to an overwhelm of exhaustion. “How long was I asleep?”

“Through the night, and it’s noon now.” 

“Noon?”

“I thought you knew what you were doing, Regulus. You’re no use to the Dark Lord if you’re dead.”

“Of course,” he manages, pushing up in bed and leaning against the headboard. He wants her out of his room, acutely aware of the basilisk fangs waiting under his mattress. 

She sighs, standing up and giving him a long lingering look. “Get dressed, have Kreature bring you some water, and then come downstairs. Your friends are here.”

He snaps his head up to look at her, frowning. “Friends?”

The friends she’s referring to, as it turns out, are Barty and Evan. He finds them seated together on the couch in the living room, Evan’s back straight while Barty slouches into the pillows. 

“Reg,” Barty says, sitting forward when he sees him. “You’re awake.”

“I am.” Regulus looks them over. “Are you here to see me?”

Something glints in Barty’s eyes. “Not exactly. Can we go to your room?”

Regulus rubs his forehead. “...Yeah. Fine.”

After he makes it back up the stairs, Regulus collapses onto his bed, frowning. “So.”

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, looking genuinely concerned. “We got here, did… what we needed to do, then asked to see you. Your elf told us you were unconscious. Also- did you know Snape is in your basement?”

Regulus groans, flopping onto his back. “Yeah, he’s been here for a bit. We’re working on a project together. Not by choice, believe me. I’m fine. Just…fumes. Slight miscalculation.” He lifts his head, suddenly suspicious. “Wait. What did you need to do ?”

Evan and Barty share a glance. “Well.” Barty’s face splits into a manic grin and he rips up his sleeve. 

Regulus’s stomach sinks. 

The Dark Mark, clear as anything, has been inscribed into his pale skin. Under it, in some sick, ironic twist of fate, Regulus can see the faint scars of the lines he’s been scratching into his skin.

“Oh,” he says dumbly. Instinctively he looks up at Evan, who lowers his gaze and rolls up his sleeve to reveal the same thing. 

“Oh,” Regulus says again. “When did that happen?”

Barty shrugs. “About an hour ago. We decided to wait and see if you’d wake up. The Dark Lord only left like 30 minutes ago.”

Regulus breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t think he could face him right now. Not after what he just did. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Barty shrugs. “We tried, mate. We wrote. You never responded.”

“I’ve been… busy.”

“Yeah, well.”

Regulus sits all the way up. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Barty says at the same time as Evan says “It hurts.”

“In a good way,” Barty clarifies. Evan says nothing. 

“And he just did it?”

“Pretty much.”

“He seemed angrier than usual,” Evan interjects. “It was creepy.”

Ah.

It worked. 

“Interesting.”

Barty sits down hard on the bed next to him. “He’s planning something big. A full scale attack.”

Regulus stiffens. “What?”

“I know, right? Exciting stuff. Anyway.” 

“Wait, no. Expand.”

Barty shrugs. “Apparently the Order has some bases near the sea in Dartmouth. We found them.”

Regulus stares at him. His first thought, embarrassingly, is that he needs to tell James. His second is that he needs more information. “When?”

“No idea.” Evan leans up against his door, crossing his arms. “I’m guessing that’s need-to-know stuff.”

Regulus clears his throat, trying and failing to sound casual. “How did we find out about the bases?”

“That’s the interesting thing,” Barty says, leaning in conspiritorialy. “We’re pretty certain there’s a spy.”

Regulus, at least, knew that much. “Who?”

“No idea.”

Unhelpful. 

“It would have to be someone close to the center of the Order, what with the way Dumbledore guards information. Someone trusted.”

Evan nods. “You don’t know? We thought you might be a bit more in tune than the rest of us.”

Regulus shakes his head. “No, I’ve- I haven’t actually talked to anyone other than Snape in a long time.”

Evan gives him a pity-filled look. “You poor thing.”

Regulus lets out a dry laugh, pulling himself to his feet. “Yeah, well. Duty calls, and all.” He looks up. “Term starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Regulus crosses to his door, pulling his coat off it and rummaging through the pockets. His fingers close around the slip of paper and he pulls it out. It’s a possibility he’s never truly considered until now, but suddenly the weight of his neglect weighs heavy on his shoulders. What if… “Dumbledore is definitely going to have you go into a lockdown within the first few days, just as a test.”

“I’d say so.” 

“I have a spell I need you to try. It should break through his charm and unlock the door.” He hands the paper to Evan. “Just… just give it a go. If it works, it could be really helpful.” He doesn’t tell them that if it doesn’t, there’s a good chance they would’ve just laid a substantial and dangerous tracking curse on themselves. 

There’s an unpleasant twist in Evan’s mouth, but he takes it just the same. “This would mean the Death Eaters could attack anytime.”

Regulus swallows. “Yeah. It would.”

They lock eyes, and Regulus sees the last little part of Evan’s hope flicker out. He realizes what this looks like. He realizes he’s sacrificing the small hint of connection he established between them. 

For the sake of the war, he decides, it’s a worthy loss. 

“Fuck that’s smart,” Barty says, eyes glinting. “I never even thought about trying to find a counterspell.”

Regulus makes a noncommittal sound and nods. “I need to know if that works. Write me as soon as you try it.”

“Course. You sure you don’t want to come back with us? We can sneak you into a trunk or something.”

“I’m needed here,” Regulus says calmly, as much as his heart aches to go. He hates it in this house, alone in the dark. He reminds himself, to the best of his ability, that there’s nothing waiting for him at Hogwarts. Not anymore. “Or at least my talents are.”

Barty frowns, rubbing at his arm. “How long till it stops itching?”

Regulus remembers the first weeks after he got the mark, how he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from peeling his skin off. “A while,” He says drily.

“Lovely. Do you think they have a cream or…”

“No.”

“Right.”

Regulus takes a deep breath, another sudden wave of exhaustion sweeping through him. He sways a bit, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can’t remember the last time he ate something. 

“Reg?” Evan asks.

“I’m fine,” He says instinctively. “Is Snape still in the basement?”

“Uh… I think.”

“Okay.” He nods, moving towards the door. “Sorry to do this to you, but I need to speak with him.” He glances back at the two of them. “I need you to try that spell. And write to me immediately. Also if you hear anything about this attack. It’s important.”

“Sure.” Barty grabs his coat and turns. “Hey, Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“I just realized something.” He holds up his forearm, mark on full display. His face splits into a grin. “We all match.”

As he leaves, Evan's face burns fresh in Regulus's head. 

 

---

 

“Ok, well, be careful with-”

“I’ve obviously got this under control.”

“You obviously do not. Can you just-”

Marlene levels him with a glare. “Let me do my job.”

James raises his hands in surrender. “Your job is to covertly search for the document, but sure. Go ahead and dump everything on the floor.”

“I swear to merlin, Potter, I will-”

“Okay! Let’s just focus up, shall we?”

Marlene huffs but goes back to searching the desk, lit wand raised above her. The ministry official’s office they’re in is crowded and messy, papers stacked high on each and every available surface. Moody sent them to find some sort of report on the numbers of magical creatures recruited to Voldemort’s cause, and so far, it’s proving difficult.

“How do we know it’s even here?” James hisses, digging through another pile of parchment.

“This is this guys like, only job.” Marlene turns up her nose, looking around. “He makes lists. That’s why there’s so much shit here.”

“Couldn’t we have applied for a permit or something? Or just requested to see the numbers?”

“Less fun.” Marlene shakes her head. “And besides, it’s super confidential. The Ministry doesn’t want how little control they have over magical animals to get out. It’s a bad look.”

“Yeah, because they have so much of the public’s respect right now,” James mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Do you even know what we need it for?”

“No,” James says honestly. “I think it has something to do with whatever Moony’s working on.”

“And Remus really won’t tell you?”

“He can’t,” James defends, shifting on his feet. “I guess it’d be more dangerous if more people knew.”

“It’s something near the sea, right? To do with werewolves?”

James blinks at her. “...Yeah. How…”

“Sirius told me.”

“Course he did.”

“So?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. I have no idea what he’s up to, though.”

She nods, flipping over a few papers and humming. “That’s the tricky thing about this war, isn’t it. It… devides us, for lack of a better word. I know Cas knows things she’s not allowed to tell me, and it’s just… odd.”

“How is Dorcas? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Marlene shrugs. “She’s fine. Dumbledore has her running around doing all sorts of odd jobs. Moody thinks she knows more than she lets on, all because she’s in Slytherin.”

“Do you think she does?”

Marlene just shrugs again, and James drops it. He steps up next to her, smirking and playfully elbowing her. “And how’s that going? Between you two?”

She matches his smirk. “Good.”

“Good? What, are you like, official now?”

“I have no idea. It’s just… good.”

James nods, ducking his head and smiling as he riffles through another stack. “Good.”

She laughs and then gasps, straightening up with a paper clutched in her fist. “Yes. Found it. Guess my method works.”

“Yeah, if you don’t care about the mess you leave behind. Look at the state of this office.”

“Whatever. Not our problem. I got the paper. Let’s go.”

He sends her one last wink before grabbing her arm and disapperating, vanishing on the spot.

Notes:

Woo!! Lol for some reason as soon as my schedule opened up and I actually had time to write I found myself going at the pace of a snail. Luckily things are getting busy again so maybe that will mean quicker updates.
I just realized like 90% of Reg's problems in this chapter stem from him just touching shit. like buddy keep your hands to yourself
guys I can not stress how excited I am for the next few chapters oh boy they are going to be juicy good lord im so ready you guys are gonna love it (mostly)
I think my biggest regret with this fic is not writing in more story lines with the girls. I love them all dearly but the idea I came up with just wasn't about them so this fic isn't either. That being said they are the best and my favorite and I want to do maybe another fic centered around them in the future bc there are far too many guys in this fic and im starting to get tired of masculine energy lol
here's a link to a Tumblr blog for the HP femininomenon fest centered around the girls!! https://www.tumblr.com/hpfemininomenonfest/
Let me know your thoughts on the story so far!! I eat every single one of your comments up

Chapter 58: The Beach

Notes:

tw in end notes

“This doesn’t feel like the right way,” Snape hisses, practically melting into the wall of the alley as a haggard looking witch passes by.

Regulus swallows, doing his best not to meet her eyes as she stares them down. “The specialist should be right down here.”

“Can we hurry up, then?” Snape shifts, pushing away from the wall.

Regulus nods. Knockturn Alley was no good on the best of days, but in the middle of this abysmal rain it looks like something straight out of a horror story. “Come on.”

They make their way down the cobbled streets, ducking around blankets layed out on the ground and carts filled with mystery merchandise. Regulus somehow manages to step on two lumps that turn out to be people asleep under rags, and Snape has to keep dodging the attempts of women who melt out of the shadows to smile coyly and tug on his arm. By the time they reach the address on the little piece of paper Bellatrix gave them, they’re both ready to go home. 

“Just knock,” Regulus whispers, staring at the old wood door. 

“Why me?”

“I went first last time.”

“Last time? As in the shack? When you immediately collapsed upon touching the door?”

“Exactly,” Regulus says, taking a step back. “I have a bad track record with doors. It’s your turn.”

Snape rolls his eyes but steps forward, glancing back at Regulus hesitantly before raising his fist and knocking.  

Immediately a brass plate in the middle of the door slides to the left, revealing a pair of sharp yellow eyes. They peer out, flicking between Regulus and Snape. “Who are you?” The woman rasps, voice like gravel scraping on pavement. 

Regulus steps forward, elbowing Snape and rolling up his sleeve. Snape does the same next to him. “We have business,” Regulus says cooly. “I advise you let us in.”

The eyes flick down to examine the marks on their arms before the lock clicks and the door swings open. The woman waits on the other side, slightly hunched over as if her spine never quite learned how to stand up right. His long black hair hangs down around her shoulders, matching the faint mustache that seems to dust her upper lip.  “What do you want?”

Snape clears his throat. “We have orders from the Dark Lord. We require your expertise.”

“I got no warning you were coming,” The woman grouses.

“We are the warning,” Regulus says and pushes forward, crossing the threshold into her home. “Are you Antha Howler?”

She eyes them suspiciously, shuffling back to make room. “...Yes. Who’s asking?”

Snape shrugs and lifts his forearm again. “I thought we told you.”

“What d’ya want from me? I didn’t do anything.” 

Regulus stares at her, reaching into his bag and pulling out a fang. “We heard you might be able to extract the poison from this.”

The woman shuffles forward, yellow eyes fixing on the tooth in his hand. “Is that what I think it is? Where the hell did you get a Basilisk fang?”

Snape ignores her. “Can you or can’t you? The Dark Lord says it's urgent.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears. “What do I get for my trouble?”

“You wake up tomorrow,” Snape sneers. “Now do what we ask.”

“Fine.” She reaches out thin fingers for the fang in Regulus’s hand. He instantly takes a few steps back. He’s never let anyone else touch any of the fangs- he felt slightly territorial simply showing Snape. He supposes, though, he might have to make an exception this time.

Cautiously he hands the fang to her, narrowing his eyes when she snatches it greedily. “Careful. There aren’t too many of those floating around.”

“You must think I’m new at this,” Antha hums, scurrying back into the rowhouse. Regulus and Snape exchange a glance before following her through the thin hallway into what looks like an apothecary. Dried herbs hang in bundles from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the warm steam rising from the bubbling cauldrons under them. She sets the fang down on her main table and shuffles around the room, gathering materials and mumbling to herself.

“How long have you been doing this?” Snape asks from the doorway.

“Seventy years, give or take,” she mutters. Regulus blinks in surprise- she doesn't look a day over fifty. That being said, he imagines the talents needed for alchemy lend themselves well to youth potions. “I’d offer you tea,” She starts. When it becomes clear she isn’t going to finish, Regulus sighs.

“Can you at least describe your process?”

She chuckles lightly. “I suppose the Dark Lord would much prefer his personal cronies have the skills to do this themselves rather than seek outside talent. Well. I charge extra for teaching.”

“Good thing you aren’t charging a cent, then, isn’t it?” Regulus grits. 

“Fine.” She sends him a shooting glare across the room before lifting the fang and crossing to one of the boiling cauldrons and lowering it in.

“What is that?” Snape asks, leaning forward with interest. “What kind of broth?”

She smirks. “Water.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Why?”

“I need to melt the acid inside the bone. Otherwise I’d be extracting power.”

Regulus remembers wormwood, white and crystallized, sticking beneath his fingers. He shudders a little, imagining how destructive Basilisk venom in that form would be. How deadly. “Maybe a good idea,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

“I can’t over-boil it, of course,” Antha adds conversationally. “The fumes would kill us all instantly.” 

Both Regulus and Snape take a step back instantly. “Oh,” Snape says again. 

She chuckles at their expressions, poking at the fang with a spoon. “Well. Really it would take around five minutes. We’d have some time.”

“Enough to make a cure?”

“Oh, no. Our limbs would give up about two minutes in. Besides, there is no cure. You of all people should know that.”

Regulus raises a brow. “Me of all people?”

“You brought this here- and judging by the way you flinched when I reached for it, you obviously know how valuable it is. You seem like the type to do your research.” 

“I was wondering if you’d discovered something in your time as an alchemist.”

She shrugs. “I know very little about basilisks.”

When Regulus takes an instinctual step forward, ready to stop her, she looks up and laughs. “I know enough to do this. Relax.” 

Snape gives him a long look. “It’ll be fine. One day you’ll have to tell me where you got them.”

“No.”

“Regu-”

“Don’t.”

Antha fishes the fang out with some wooden tongs, tapping it lightly and hissing through her teeth. “About ready,” She mutters, turning to them. “You don’t happen to have the right knife on ya? I have one, but I’m worried it’ll chip the bone.”

“No-” Snape starts at the same time Regulus says “yes,” and reaches into his pocket. 

He ignores the expression on Snape’s face and hands the witch the small knife his mother gave him, doing his best not to look at it. “I brought it just in case you weren't prepared.”

She rolls her eyes but takes it just the same, tutting and turning back to the fang. “Forgive me if I wasn’t exactly given prior notice.” She flicks open the blade, humming appreciatively. “Sharp. Wow.” She scratches at the metal with a too-long fingernail, raising a brow. “Still bloody, eh? Never bothered to clean it after your last kill?”

Truthfully, Regulus hadn’t even bothered to look at it before he’d tossed it in his trunk and done his best to forget the whole affair. “I guess not.”

She mutters something he can’t hear and places the blade against the tip of the fang, baring down. The bone parts beneath the tip of the knife, maulable and soft to a metal so sharp. 

“Boy, hand me that vial,” Antha says hurriedly, snapping her fingers and pointing to a small glass bottle on the table across from her. Snape starts and hurries to do what she asked, setting it in front of her gingerly. She lifts the fang, tipping it till a smooth green liquid begins to drip from the hole she cut into the bone. Drop after drop the vial fills before she caps it and snaps for another. Two vials later she sets the drained fang down and stoppers the bottles. Regulus blinks at her.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I could’ve done that.”

“I guarantee you could not.”

Regulus huffs but reaches out to take the vials, setting them gently in his now empty bag. Their contents shimmer murky green, swirling within the glass. “Thank you.”

She eyes the both of them. “What’s this for?”

“Official business.” Snape answers tersely. “You’d do well not to question the Dark Lord.”

“What are your names?” 

“You don’t need to know.” Snape says. He digs around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a few galleons and dropping them onto the table. “For your trouble.”

She smiles, corners of her mouth ticking up. “Let me walk you to the door,” she says, ushering them towards the hallway. Regulus notices her sweep the coins into a pocket as she passes.
They pause at the threshold to her small town house, opening the door. Regulus turns back, something nagging at him. A loose end. “You know you aren’t to repeat a word of this to anyone?”

She presses her lips together. “What if they have the same mark on their arm?”

“No one. This mission is to be kept entirely private. Only the people closest to the Dark Lord know about it.” 

“Fine.” 

He can’t resist pulling his wand from his pocket, murmuring “ nonloqui ” before she has time to react. Her mouth seals shut and then reopens a second later, a look of shock and fury flashing across her face. “After the favor I just did for you?” She hisses, outraged. 

“Which was?”

She opens her mouth but all that comes out is a sort of jumbled gibberish. Eyes going wide, she presses a hand to her lips. “You lot are demons,” She grumbles, shuffling back into her house and grabbing the doorknob. She nods towards the bag on Regulus’s hip. “Try to keep my name out of the papers when they report on the murders.” With that, she slams the door shut. 

Snape turns to look at him. “Did you have to curse her?”

“Oh, would you rather explain to the Dark Lord how you stole some of his basilisk fangs and took them, unauthorized, to extract their deadly venom?”

Snape rolls his eyes and turns around, heading back up the small alley. “It’s shocking how easily cursing innocent people comes to you.”

“Innocent?” Regulus asks, joining him. “She willingly helped two death eaters secure a notoriously horrible substance.”

“What choice did she have?”

Regulus shrugs. “We were never going to kill her.” 

“She didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, but-”

They both pull up short, staring ahead of them. Remus Lupin and James Potter stand at the mouth of the alley, wearing twin expressions of shock.

“Shit,” Snape whispers.

Regulus stares at James. He looks good. Well- healthy. He looks healthy, which is good. He got new glasses. Regulus isn’t sure how he feels about them. It’s a change, certainly. These frames are a bit more square, no longer perfect circles. They make him look older. It would be imposing if his eyes didn’t glint and crinkle behind them in the same way they always have. 

Then he snaps back to reality, and mutters a curse of his own. If they were any other death eaters and if Remus and James were any other Order members, all of them would have their wands out by now, shooting curses. But they’re all- mostly- the same age, and in this singular moment the idea of actually fighting each other seems preposterous. 

“Should we disapparate?” Regulus hisses, but it’s too late. Remus and James have started towards them, walking quickly. 

“Black, Snivellus,” Remus says, stopping short in front of them. “Funny seeing you two here. On official business?”

“No,” Regulus says cooly, refusing to look in James’s direction. “You?”

Remus shrugs, glancing at the bag on Regulus’s hip. “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing important.” 

“I see. I do actually need to talk to you, so I suppose this is good timing.”

“Absolutely not.”

Remus stares at him. “Would you rather me go to Dumbledore and tell him there’s something funny happening on Knockturn alley? Or should we just pull our wands out now and get it over with?”

Regulus rolls his eyes but sighs. “Fine.”

Remus glances guilty at James. “Not… here.”

A muscle in James’s jaw twitches but he nods and looks away. “It’s fine. Go.”

Regulus tears his eyes away from him and looks back to Remus who’s already walking a little ways away. Leaving James and Snape to have a little chat, Regulus turns and follows, rounding the

corner and finding Remus leaning up against the wall. “What?”

Remus rolls his eyes. “You should really work on your bluffing face, you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You look at James like a wounded deer everytime you’re around him.”

Regulus scoffs. “That’s a bit of a stretch.” And then: “I see even the Order is keeping secrets from each other now.”

“James knows what he needs to know.”

“And how does he feel about that?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“I’m just saying, surely Dumbledore values a strong honesty policy.”

“Dumbledore values keeping private information private. He’s learned not to trust just everyone.”

Regulus studies him, thinking about all the hints that have pointed to there being a spy in the Order. “Maybe not a bad idea.”

Remus’s eyes flash. “What does that mean? What do you know?”

“What do you want, Lupin?” Regulus asks, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the bricks. 

Remus’s lips press together like he’s struggling to find the words. “I… I need information.”

“What makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

Remus fixes him with a long look. “We both know your heart doesn’t lie with Voldemort.”

Regulus narrows his eyes, indignant. “Cut to the chase.”

“I need to know about Voldemort’s plans surrounding the werewolves.” 

“What was your plan if you didn’t run into me in a random alley?”

---

 

Remus stares at Regulus, already frustrated. The other boy is watching him with that bored sort of determination that’s difficult to get passed. Remus has no idea how James did it. 

“I have other projects as well,” Remus says carefully. “This is just a happy coincidence.”

Dumbledore’s only sent him on a few missions with the werewolves. Each one leaves him more drained and disheartened. The epidemic, as he calls it, seems to be getting worse- werewolves are starting to simply not change back. It scares him more than he’d like to admit, watching them lose themselves to the curse he feels press against the edge of his soul every month.

Regulus raises a single brow. “You aren’t the traitor, are you?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Remus stares at him. “So? What do you know?”

Regulus sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.” 

“Yet here you are.” 

Regulus looks conflicted, glancing away. 

Remus leans forward off the wall, anger and confusion bubbling into an undescernable mass in his stomach. “I can’t for the life of me figure you out. You aren’t with Voldemort. You wouldn’t even be entertaining this. But you are a known and reported Death Eater. You have the Mark. We know you’ve been doing his dirty business. So was it really only James?” At the name, Regulus flinches, almost imperceptibly. “Was that really the only thing between you and Voldemort’s cause? Surely not.”

Regulus doesn’t respond, and Remus wants to grab his shoulders and shake , demanding to know whose side he’s on. 

“Fine. Forget it.”

“Fenrir Greyback is still at the head of everything,” Regulus murmurs. 

Remus hates that name.

Hates it with everything in him. 

 Sometimes he worries he’d let Voldemort walk free if it meant he could see Fenrir burn. 

“I know that,” Remus starts.

“They tell them it’s the only safe place for werewolves right now.” Regulus gives a halfhearted shrug. “From what I can tell, they bite the desired subject then leave them alone for a few months. During that time they watch their kin get murdered and tortured, and by the time Fenrir and his pack come back and offer sanctuary, they’re ready to join immediately.”

Remus takes a measured breath. “So who’s doing the murdering and torturing?”

Regulus snorts bitterly. “Who do you think? Greyback, obviously. But as long as the culprit never gets out and the killings are blamed on the ministry or the order, he loses no trust.”

“How…” Remus swallows past the dryness in his throat. “How does he even justify that? Murdering one of his own kind? Why not recruit them rather than kill them?”

Regulus looks down, shifting. “I suppose he sees it as a worthy price. If one werewolf dies to convince three others to join, it’s still a net gain.” 

“But. But-” Remus presses his hands over his eyes. “But when they’re turned they aren’t aware of themselves. I’ve talked to a lot of them- they understand they’re dangerous. They understand their kin are dangerous. I don’t think killing what’s- essentially- an animalistic beast would be that misunderstood. They- I- no one blames the people that do what they have to do while you’re changed. It isn’t you. It’s just a monster. Without wolfsbane, that is.”

“So you don’t think the murder of one of the few people like you would be enough to seek out sanctuary?”

“It’s not like that, though. The ministry has never been averse to killing in the name of self defense. When they’re turned- almost all… people like me recognize the rules are different during the full moon. What’s different about this?”

Regulus watches him cooly, eyes glittering. “It isn’t the full moon.” 

“What?”

“He doesn’t kill them when they’re changed. Never. That’s when they’re most valuable to him. No, he saves his bloodthirst for the middle of the month, when they’re living life as their normal selves. That’s what does it. Werewolves all over the country are seeing their brethren be slain in broad daylight, when they’re still innocent civilians. As far as they know, the ministry is taking what they call “preventative action”. That, in their eyes, is non-excusable. Why wouldn’t they take the first offer of protection they receive?” Regulus shrugs. “These days, a pack is always safer, and they all know it.”

“They aren’t changed?” Remus whispers. 

“No.”

“Regulus- those- those are children - I met some younger than thirteen- I-”

“Lupin, focus. I know .”

“No, you don’t.” He takes a hurried breath and tries to calm the storm inside. “It’s- merlin. I’ve spent my whole life thanking god that it’s only one night. I’m only a monster for one night. It doesn’t matter what happens outside of that, because at least I’m human. I’m not a werewolf- just Remus. But this-” His words hitch and break and he sinks into a squat in the middle of the alley. 

He looks up at Regulus. “You have no idea how awful it would be to watch people like you die for the sin of being alive. Greyback is using their worst fears against them. To think… to think you’re only a monster one night each month and then to be killed for it on a random day-” He’s rambling, he knows, and definitely not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know how to make Regulus understand. How to make him see.

“Lupin,” Regulus says, sinking down across from him. “I don’t know. I have no idea. But what Fenrir’s doing? It’s working. The werewolves are with him now. You can’t do anything about their mental state, or whatever. That’s their business. You need to address the larger problem.”

“Which is?”

“Werewolves are turning and staying turned. That’s his main weapon. If they were thinking clearly… I imagine it’d be a different story.”

“I know.” Remus hangs his head. “I know that.”

“Right.” Regulus tilts his head. “You asked me about it once, didn’t you. Back at school.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your plan then?”

Remus just gives him a look and Regulus nods in submission. “Fair enough.” 

“I need to talk to Snape,” Remus sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I have information I need cross-checked.”

“I don’t know how agreeable he’ll be,” Regulus says. “But you can certainly try.”

Remus sighs, taking stock of his emotions. Regulus didn’t particularly tell him anything helpful- though he was previously unaware of Greyback’s conversion strategy. “How are you doing?” He asks, looking up at Regulus. 

Regulus blinks in surprise. “What?”

There are dark circles under his eyes, but that’s nothing new. He looks, to Remus’s surprise, mostly fine. “I just haven’t seen you in a while,” Remus says after a moment. 

Regulus stares at him. “... I suppose not.”

Remus straightens, holding out a hand to Regulus on the ground and pulling him upright when he cautiously accepts it. “We might need to go supervise Snape and James.” 

“Oh, I guarantee they’re both dead already.” 

They round the corner and find them, not dead, but glaring at each other, obviously heated.  “Okay,” Remus says, sideling up. “Snape, your turn. Care to walk with me?”

“Fuck you,” Snape spits, and Remus rolls his eyes.

“I’ll pass, thanks. Or should I put in an anonymous tip among the werewolves that you think they don’t deserve to work for the Dark Lord? Or maybe I should tell them how good you are at brewing wolfsbane. Alternatively, you could just have a chat with me now and be done with it.”

“...This is extortion.” 

“Hardly.”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” Remus calls, watching Regulus’s expression grow panicked. “You two have fun. I’ll be right back.”

“No, Lupin -”

“You’ll be fine,” Remus hisses, before walking away and assuming Snape’s following. 

 

---

 

Regulus hates Remus Lupin, he decides. Truly, truly hates him. He considers switching back to Voldemort’s side if only to antagonize him specifically. 

“Hey Reg,” James says behind him, and Regulus sighs, turning. 

“Potter.”

“It’s been a bit, hasn’t it? I haven’t seen you since…” James trails off as they both seem to remember. “Oh. Wow. It really has been a while.” 

Regulus watches him carefully, resigning himself to his fate. “I’m… sorry, about your father.” 

James winces, but only a little. “It’s alright. I heard you went to the funeral.”

“Sirius,” Regulus grits. 

James winks. “Who else?” He takes a step closer. “You should’ve said hi.”

“That would’ve felt… improper.”

“Why?”

“Considering our last conversation.”

“That was hardly- I mean.” James frowns. 

Regulus shrugs. “I just wanted to pay my respects. I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing anyone could’ve done,” James says, holding his gaze. “ Anyone , Reg.”

Regulus shifts, and the need to tell James just how wrong he is burns hot in the back of his throat. “I don’t…”

“I shouldn’t have asked you for your help so many times. You were right.”

“Are you getting sick?” Regulus blurts, because he has to say something , and he’s genuinely wondering. He hadn’t considered exactly how contagious dragon pox is till now. 

Something flashes across James’s face before he shakes his head, laughing lightly. “I’m fine. I’m honored you’re worried, though.”

“Worried is a stretch.”

James takes another step forward and he really, really needs to stop doing that. “Are you saying you wouldn’t miss me if I died?”

Regulus distantly remarks this topic shouldn’t feel as much like flirting as it does. “You wish, Potter.”

“Maybe I do.” James studies him, gaze warm. “What about you? How are you doing?”

“Why does everyone keep asking? Do I look that bad?”

“I think you look just fine.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry- well, no. I’m not. But, either way, you aren’t using glamour. That’s good.”

Regulus is about to respond before his common sense catches up and he pauses. “How do you know about my glamour?”

James’s eyes go fuzzy, face falling. He looks surprised, then confused, then just… blank. “I don’t…”

“It’s fine,” Regulus says quickly, heartbeat picking up. “Just- it’s fine. How was your chat with Snape?”

James’s expression darkens. “I hate him. Why did you leave us alone?”

Regulus bites back a smile. “Well. I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I? Lupin certainly has a way with blackmail.” 

“It’s alright, I guess.” James fake-sighs. “Means I get to talk to you, so I suppose it’s excusable.”

Everything in Regulus heats with a familiar warmth as he relaxes into the ease of the conversation. It’s natural. It’s… good. For a long drawn out second, he wants to stay in this perfect bubble where neither of them have to hold back.

And then he remembers why he obliviated James in the first place, and the warmth quickly gets drowned out by fear, icy and coursing.

Regulus snaps his head up, watching Remus and Snape turn and start to walk toward them. “James,” He says hurriedly, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he makes a potentially stupid last minute decision. “James. I need to tell you.” James’s eyes fix on his, widening. “The bases, in Dartmouth,” Regulus manages. “He knows. He’s planning an attack. It’s not- you have to stay away. You can’t try and stop him, you have to promise me, because I know you won’t remember this but there’s very much still a hit on your head, and it isn’t safe.”

James’s lips part as his eyebrows pinch, taking another step forward. “When?” he rasps, making no move to pull his arm from Regulus’s grasp. “What-”

“I don’t know.” Regulus bites his lip. The damage is already done, but he’s said too much. “I have no idea. Soon. But James, listen to me. You can’t be there. You can’t get near the fight. If they see you…”

“How do you know?” James asks, expression deathly serious. 

Regulus just shakes his head. “Don’t- don’t go, James. Promise me. Please. I can’t… I can’t watch you-”

James cuts him off with a small choking sound, eyes locked on his face. For a long second, neither of them speak. And then: “Who’s side are you on?” James whispers, lips barely parting.

Remus and Snape pull up short next to them, and without looking at either, Regulus grabs Snape’s arm and disapperates instantly, leaving Remus and James standing alone and confused in the middle of Knockturn alley. 

“What-” Snape says when they land on the doorstep of Number twelve, swaying slightly. “Why the hurry?”

“Would you rather we stayed?” 

“No, but-”

“I might’ve messed up,” Regulus swallows, running his hands over his face. “I just- ugh. Ugh. Forget it. Just. The potions are due tomorrow. We should- we should do that.”

And after giving him a weird look, Snape steps inside. 

 

---

 

For the first time in a long time, Evan and Barty have the entire dorm room to themselves. As 8th years, they don’t need a fourth and Slughorn decided not to fill the absence Regulus left behind. His bed sits empty in the corner, bare and slightly depressing. Both Barty and Evan refuse to use it. 

“I’m gonna miss the sullen bastard,” Barty says as he dumps the contents of his trunk into the first drawer he finds. 

“Me too,” Evan sighs, staring at the empty bed. “Well. Mostly.”

“True. he had a sort of sad air about him, didn’t he? Brought down the mood.”

“We’re talking like he’s dead.”

Barty heaves an over dramatic sigh. “He might as well be.” 

“He’s fine.” Evan slams the lid of his trunk, falling back onto his bed. “He seems happier recently.”

“Happy? Regulus?”

“Yeah, but there was that one like really bad phase back towards the end of last year. Remember that?”

“Yeah. That was… rough.”

“Right. I think we can at least say he’s recovered from that. He’s got that potion to work on now. I think he does well with a project.”

Barty pulls a face. “Yeah, but he has to do it with Snape.”

“But they're done, right? So I guess he's free of him now.”

“True.” Barty glances at the empty bed again. “What if Snape was our new dormmate?”

“I’d throw myself off the astronomy tower.”

Barty grins. “I might join you.”

Evan groans, resting his hand on his stomach and staring at the dungeon ceilings. “I’m so full from dinner. I always forget not to eat too much at the feast.” 

Barty’s eyes twinkle and thats all the warning Evan gets before he jumps forward, landing on top of him. Evan lets out a huffing-grunting sound as the wind gets knocked out of him, pushing Barty off. “You bastard.”

Barty chuckles, pressing his thigh into Evan’s. Evan tips his head on his pillow to stare at Barty’s profile, humming softly and summoning his courage. “You’re pretty.”

He watches as Barty’s eyes widen and he swallows. Normally he would shut him down. Normally he’d tell Evan to keep that shit inside, because regular people don’t talk like that. Today, though, he just goes quiet, and they both let the words hang in the air around them.

Evan rolls completely on his side, yawning in the night air. The heat of the fire from the common room has cut through the usual cold of the dungeons, warming him comfortably. He rests his head against Barty’s shoulder and closes his eyes, sighing contentedly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already falling asleep,” Barty complains, but his voice has a soft sort of quality to it Evan’s learned to interpret as affection. 

Evan lets out a muffled whine and buries his head further into the crook between Barty’s neck and shoulder, rolling over until he’s mostly laying on top of him. “I had a long train ride,” he grouses.

Barty snorts, but a hand drops onto Evan’s back, gently rubbing up and down. “Weak,” He murmurs.

“No chance you aren’t even a little sleepy.”

“We just got here, how could I be?” Barty’s hand trails up his back and into his hair, running his fingers through Evan’s short strands. “We have so much to do still.”

“Like what?” Evan manages to ask, fighting off the sleep that tries to eat at the edges of his consciousness and melting under Barty’s gentle touch.

“Well, we have that spell Reg gave us. We still have to test if that will work.”

“We can’t do that without a lockdown,” Evan hums, keeping his eyes closed. “There’ll be one tomorrow, remember?”

“And we need to find a way to get Mulciber and the others to take the mark.”

Evan frowns at that, sighing a little. “Barty.” They don’t talk about it. They’ve never talked about it. Evan gets the sense Barty knows his heart isn’t in this fully, but that’s always seems to be a problem for another day. 

Barty’s hand stills in his hair. “Don’t.”

So Evan doesn’t. 

“Do you think that attack will happen soon?” Barty asks, fingers resuming their motion. “The one the Dark Lord told us about?”

Evan just shuts his eyes again, burying himself further into the boy under him. “I don’t know. Let’s not talk about it.”

“So what do we talk about?”

Us, Evan thinks. This. What your hand is doing on my back and what my face is doing in your neck. 

“Just shh,” he says instead. 

Barty huffs quietly, but brings his other arm up and around, wrapping it around Evan’s torso and pulling him into him. “Big baby,” He says softly, and Evan could cry with happiness. 

One day he’ll tell him. 

One day he’ll whisper it in his ear and Barty won’t push him away but instead pull him closer; say it back. 

One day.

For now, though, Evan is content enough to let Barty's warmth pull him to sleep. 

---

 

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Sure.”

“...Do you?”

Sirius shrugs, flashing a grin. “Enough.”

James sighs, taking his arm and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just get it over with.”

Sirius twists and the world falls away, taking James’s stomach with it. They reappear with a pop on a windy bluff, the grasses swaying beneath their feet. James stumbles a little, groaning. “You’ve got to get better at that.”

“Can’t without practice,” Sirius says, placing both hands on his hips and staring off the cliff over the sea. “Wow. Look at that.”

James puts up a hand to block out the sun and follows his gaze, relishing in the crashing of the waves and the glittering water. A seagull swoops low over the ocean, its call echoing against the rock of the cliffs. “Where are we?”

“About a mile away from where we’re supposed to be, I’d reckon.” Sirius winces. “I’m… learning that tends to be my margin of error.”

“Great. I think we should make this next part on foot. Just for, you know, the sake of my breakfast.” 

“Oi, I’m not that bad.”

“You are absolutely that bad.” 

They set off, climbing across the grass towards the road. James sucks in a deep breath of salty air, feeling himself come back to life in the breeze. He wonders how Moody and Dumbledore are getting on back home.

As if reading his mind, Sirius says: “Do you think it’s okay we’re doing this? Now, I mean?”

“You told this muggle guy you’d be there today at four, right? I think it’s fine. We can always apparate away and besides- we don’t even know what day they’re planning to attack. We can’t very well put our lives on hold for a hypothetical.”

“It’s hardly a hypothetical,” Sirius frowns, but keeps walking. “If Regulus told you…”

“I wish he’d have given me more details,” James gripes. “Dumbledore wants me to recruit him or something.”

Sirius snorts. “For what? What purpose could he serve?”

“I guess he could get us information, but I can hardly picture him agreeing to be a spy for the cause.”

“Well, he’s something, if he’s telling you about Voldemort’s plans.” 

James kicks at the rocks on the road, sending up a cloud of dust. “That’s a good point.”

“Did you hear Frank’s out of the hospital?” 

James blinks, smiling. “Woah, already?”

“Well- it’s been nearly a month.”

“Yeah, but still. I thought- I mean, we all thought-”

“I know. I’m glad he pulled through.” Sirius squints up at the sky. “He wants to join the fight.”

“Which fight? This one? The upcoming one?”

“Yeah.”

James snorts. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“No one’s gonna let him, I don’t think.” Sirius shrugs. “You’ve got to admire his commitment.”

“Mhm.” James hasn’t told the Order about the other half of what Regulus said to him. He’ll be damned before he sits out on a fight. It doesn’t matter if there’s a hit out on him- he’d resent himself forever if he didn’t even show up. 

“There.” Sirius points and James squints, following his finger. 

“Oh. Huh.”

Further down the road there’s a little town, small old stone buildings clustered around the single street. 

“That’s… special.”

“It’s charming.”

“Provincial, truly.”

“Quaint, one might say.”

James tips his head. “One might.”

“And we made sure I have enough money?”

“Did you convert it?”

Sirius shoves his hand in his pocket and nods. “I went to Gringotts yesterday.”

“Then you’re all good. As long as you don’t try and pay in knuts, I think we’ll figure it out.”

They make their way through the town, passing rundown houses and sheds. “Should we stop here?” Sirius asks, glancing from the paper in his hand to the townhouse in front of them. 

“This isn’t it, is it?”

“No. But they might be able to give us directions.”

“Directions? Sirius, this is literally a one-street town.”

Sirius seems to think it over and then promptly decides to ignore him, skipping up to the door and knocking. James complains a bit but follows, smiling brightly when it finally opens. An older woman stands behind it, looking them up and down while sucking the life out of a cigarette. “Can I help you?”

Sirius, for all his bravery, goes silent. James steps up. “Hello! We’re wondering if you know where we can find a…” He grabs the paper out of Sirius’s hand and reads off it. “Mr. Brooks?”

“You want Bart?” She taps her cigarette on the door frame and leans out, pointing down the road a bit. “He’ll be down there, behind the garden. Please tell me you’re talking that blasted machine off him.”

“That’s the goal,” Sirius chimes in.

“Fucking finally,” She grumbles, taking a few steps back. “Well. Let it be known you have the whole neighborhood’s thanks.”

“Uh… sure. We appreciate the help.” James says, backing up and giving a little wave.

“Okay, so,” Sirius catches up with him on the road again. “A good idea after all.”

“I still think you’re gonna kill yourself.”

“Careful or you’ll sound like Moony.”

“There’s a reason he’s known as the sensible one.”

They find the small patch of garden the woman pointed out, and after sharing a cautious glance, make their way to the back. True to her word, there’s a shed at the end. Its tin metal roof covers old wood slats, barely containing all sorts of projects that seem to spill out at odd angles- a half built chair here, a forgotten motor engine there. A slightly older man with a pot belly and almost no hair sits outside, tinkering with some sort of small metal contraption. 

Sirius steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “Er- are you Mr. Broo- Bert?”

The man looks up, squinting at them. “Maybe. Depends. Who are you?”

“Sirius,” says Sirius. He clears his throat. “I wrote about the bike?”

“Oh. It’s you.” The man looks distinctly unhappy to see him, grumbling and rising to his feet. His pants and tanktop are both covered in large oil stains. “I was hoping you weren't gonna show up.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Sirius says, but his eyes shine bright. “So, is she here?”

The man- Bert- huffs, but beckons them over all the same. “Of course she is. She should stay here, of course, but I’ve gotten one too many noise complaints and the missus is threatening to kick me out. She says the bike goes or I do. Of course,” Bert mutters as he leads them around the back of the shed. “Normally I’d give her a piece of my mind then take the bike and up and leave, but our kid’s expecting a kid, and I don’t have the funds for the solo lifestyle.”

“Right,” Sirius says, sharing a look with James over his shoulder.

“Course, I can only sell her to you if I know you’ll take good care of her.”

“Naturally,” Sirius says, bouncing on his heels. “Trust me, Bert, this is a dream come true.”

“As it should be,” Bert nods, leading them to a fabric covered lump somewhere behind the shed. “Here she is.” He rips the sheet off the bike, sending a plume of dust spiraling high into the air.

“Wow,” Sirius breathes. He reaches out and runs a hand over the sleek engine, whistling softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Oh god,” James groans, tipping his face into his hand. “You’re actually going to die.”

Sirius and Bert send him twin glares. “Does your friend have a problem with the bike?” Bert asks, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“No,” Sirius says. “He’s being difficult. Please, ignore him.”

“And you’ve got the money?”

Sirius nods, digging around in his pockets and pulling out handfuls of crumpled bills and coins. “Is this enough?”

Bert stares at the money, taking it carefully and dumping it on a nearby table to unfold and count each bill. “Should do it,” he grumbles after a moment. “Fine. Let me get the keys.” 

He bumbles off and Sirius turns back to the bike, humming happily. “This is perfect. Isn’t it?”

James comes up next to him, propping an elbow on his friend's shoulder. “It’s sexy. Remus is gonna lose his shit.”

“Good.”

“You’re going to have to invest in, like, ten leather jackets now.”

“Even better. I was already planning on it.”

“What are your thoughts as far as enchantments go?”

Sirius smirks. “You have to know what I’m going to say.”

James tries not to smile. “I wanna hear you say it anyway.”

Sirius thumps the engine of the bike, smirk turning into a shit-eating grin. “This baby’s going airborne.”

Bert rounds the corner, jingling a single set of silver keys. “Now, while she’s a beauty, me and the law enforcement have had a few… disagreements on whether she’s technically road-worthy. So. I’d maybe take it slow on the ride home.” 

“Sure thing.” Sirius takes the keys from him, practically vibrating with excitement. “Say, Bert, do you think she can fit a sidecar?”

“Er…” Bert scratches the back of his head, studying the bike. “Yeah. probably. Just… screw it on.”

“Lovely.”

“I’m sad to see her go,” Bert says unhappily. “We had some nice times together.”

“I promise she’s in good hands,” Sirius reassures him, kicking the stand up and starting to walk the bike towards the road.

“Take care of her!” Bert shouts as they go.

“Will do! Thanks Bert!” Sirius calls back. James sends Bert a little parting salute.

When they get to the main (and only) road, Sirius settles himself on the bike and turns it on. The engine roars to life with a horrible grating sound, and James suddenly finds himself empathizing with Bert’s neighbors. “Wow.”

“You can’t say she lacks spunk,” Sirius says, nearly shouting over the engine.

“No you cannot.”

“Get on!”

James swings his leg over behind Sirius, wrapping his arms around his waist and trying to get used to the feeling of some mechanical beast, larger than a broom, under him. “So what now?”

“Now, I think I…” Sirius does something James can’t see, and then the bike lurches forward and they’re moving, taking off down the road.

James shouts a laugh, squeezing Sirius tighter in surprise. Sirius, to James’s surprise, seems to figure out the mechanics fairly quickly and they manage to stay upright. As they go, two or three townspeople come out onto their front stoops to cheer them on. James swears he hears at least two “good riddance”s over the hum of the engine.

They leave the town in the dust behind them, sailing down the road faster than James thought possible. “This is awesome,” James shouts, leaning forward so Sirius can hear him. The wind whips through his hair, and James has to spit some of it out of his mouth after speaking.

“I know!” Sirius shouts back. “It’s like flying.”

James nods vigorously in agreement, though he soon remembers Sirius can’t see him. Neither of them are wearing helmets, he realizes distantly. He wonders what would happen if they fell off now. Oh well, he thinks. They’ll probably die in a few days anyway. Compared to that, this definitely wouldn’t be the worst way to go. “Do you want to charm it now?”

“No,” Sirius yells. “Not yet. I like this.”

Me too, James thinks, and holds Sirius tighter as they soar down the road. 

 

---

 

“Sit.”

The sound of at least twenty chairs scraping on the floor reverberates around the stone room. The Dark Lord clasps his hands in front of him, resting them on the table. Regulus, seated to his left, stares straight ahead. 

“Good. Thank you all for joining me today.” The Dark Lord’s snake twists up his body, wrapping around the chair. 

Idiots , she hisses. 

Regulus pointedly doesn’t look at her.

Quiet , the Dark Lord responds. They’re loyal. 

Cowards. 

“As many of you know, thanks to a discrete source, we have important information concerning a few enemy bases near Dartmouth, on the sea. We believe the Order is sending out its members to gather recruits and information from local towns, specifically concerning werewolves and magical animals.”

Lupin, Regulus thinks. They’re going after Lupin. At least the Order knows.

“We will most likely catch the traitors off guard. On the off chance they’re waiting for us, nothing will change. We still attack. Remember, we’ve the numbers.”

Regulus feels the people next to him shift nervously. He locks eyes with Snape across the table.

“However, this is not a suicide mission. If the situation becomes overwhelming, I expect you all to apparate back to Grimmauld place to regroup.” The Dark Lord pauses. “We’ll be calling those among us still at Hogwarts to join the fight. We need as many recruits as we can get.”

So Evan and Barty would be there, then. Good. 

“Before we go, I want everyone here to take one of these potions. Black and Snape brewed them for us, so we’ll have to put our faith in their abilities.”

“What are they?” Dolohov asks suspiciously. Regulus sends him a cold look.

“Gas-protection. While I don’t recommend spending time in large clouds of poison, this should at least delay even the most serious effects.” The potions get passed out, sliding down the table. Regulus grabs his and uncorks it, pulling a face before tipping it back and swallowing it quickly. 

He and Snape exchange a bitter glance. They should’ve made it taste better.

“Good.” The Dark Lord waves a hand. “You’re dismissed. We’ll meet on the stoop. Black, stay behind for a moment.”

Regulus resists the urge to scream and instead nods, staying in his seat while everyone else packs up and moves outside. Once they’re alone, the Dark Lord looks him up and down. “Are you alright?”

Regulus blinks in surprise. “...Yes?”

“I heard you had an issue with the potions lab that rendered you unconscious for some time.”

Oh.

Right.

“Um… yes, my Lord. I’m recovered now.”

Tom’s slit eyes don’t stray from his face. “You and I both know you’re too good with potions for that.”

A flash of icy fear runs through Regulus. “My- my Lord-”

“But rest easy. The power-” Voldemort pauses, seeming to gather his words. “The power I gave you, the one I took from that incessant man so long ago, probably had a flare up of some sort.”

Regulus sits up a little straighter. So they were finally talking about this. “How do you know?”

Voldemort’s face doesn’t change. “Call it an educated guess.” 

“So what happened? What went wrong?”

“There are things I can’t tell you right now,” Tom says cooly, and Regulus resists the urge to bang his head on the table in disappointment. 

“Alright, my Lord.”

“During this attack, Regulus, I need you to stay safe. It’s of the utmost importance you remain uninjured and well.”

Regulus stares at him. It’s the second time the Dark Lord has said something like this to him. “Of course.”

“Good. We’ll check in after everything. Go, join the others.” 

With one last look over his shoulder, Regulus does. 

“What did he want?” Snape hisses, leaning in.

“I… don’t know,” Regulus says carefully. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Just… just try and stay out of the way.”

Snape gives him a long look, dropping his voice to the barest of whispers. “After what you told Potter, there’s no chance the entire Order isn’t waiting for us.”

Regulus grimaces. “I didn’t tell them when. This still may be a surprise attack.” 

Snape winces, not meeting his eyes. “I… might’ve written an anonymous letter yesterday.” 

Pride lights up the inside of Regulus’s chest and he can't help smiling, at least a little. “Good.”

“I figured the damage was already done.”

Regulus opens his mouth to respond but gets cut off by Voldemort, slamming the door behind him and immediately sucking all the warmth out of the conversation. “We leave now.” He looks the crowd over, and Regulus can’t ignore the way his stomach begins to stir with nerves. “Good luck,” The Dark Lord says, and Regulus thinks he might actually mean it. 

“Ready?” He asks Snape.

The other boy shakes his head, but Regulus just grits his teeth and slides on his mask, watching as those around him do the same. Snape shoves his own on as well, and they meet each other's eyes through the slits in the blackness. Popping rings out as the Death Eaters begin disapperating around them. For a minute, neither Snape nor Regulus move. And then Regulus sucks in a breath, gathering his courage, and grabs Snape’s arm. “Don’t die,” he hisses, and turns on the spot, disappearing into space. 

The first thing Regulus sees is the waves in front of him. The dusk of the day has cast long purple shadows over the sea, turning the water nearly black. 

The second thing he sees is a curse hitting him squarely in his chest. Regulus stumbles back instantly, letting out a huff as the air gets knocked out of him. A split second of agony ripples through him and he ducks out of the way before the sender can give it another go.

Regulus doesn’t know where Snape is. Maybe he let go during apparition. Regulus doesn’t have time to care. He takes in his surroundings, raising his wand in front of him. The beach, of course, is full of flashing spells and moving bodies.

In the single minute Snape and Regulus were talking back at Grimmauld place, the fight must’ve already started and was now in full swing. It was a battle, a real and true battle, both sides clashing in the middle.

Obviously Snape’s letter was well received. 

A masked someone, by the sound of it Lucius, grabs his arm. “They knew we were coming,” he hisses. “They were prepared. They were waiting.”

The mark on his arm boils, sending shocks of pain and itchiness through his entire body. Regulus clamps a hand over it and pulls away from Lucius, looking around wildly. Above the beach, in the evening sky, a matching skull and snake twists in the air.

Lovely. 

Regulus sends a curse off at random, trying not to hit anyone but also not wanting to appear useless. He has to find Evan and Barty. He’s certain they’ll be here, somehow.
He sees Moody in the distance, grinning widely as he draws out a masked Death-Eater in a duel. Remus fights behind him, backing up as he’s met with a wall of spells coming at him from multiple angles.

Regulus ducks as Lily Evans sends a curse at his head. He shoots a spell back, vaguely in her direction, hoping it doesn’t find its target. She’s a ferocious fighter, much faster than he would’ve thought. He does his best not to engage, moving further up the beach. 

As he predicted, the fight must’ve dissolved into immediate chaos. Death Eaters have never been one for an airtight plan- the strategy so far seems to be blindly attacking anyone who’s not wearing a mask.  

He hears a laugh that he knows all too well and runs over, trying not to trip in the sand. “Barty!”

“Reg!” The masked figure, who Regulus can only assume is Barty, claps him on the shoulder triumphantly and shimmies them a little ways away from the action. “Nice of you to join us, eh?”

“How’d you get here so fast? Weren't you in school?”

Another figure- Evan, if Regulus had to guess- jogs up next to them. “We were. Then the mark started, you know, doing its thing and we knew it was time.”

“So you just up and left? And no one stopped you?”

Barty shrugs. “There was no one to stop us.” 

“What?”

“We were in a lockdown,” Evan explains. “Everyone was still trapped in their rooms so we just up and left.”

No.

Fuck.

A sickly sort of dread begins to creep down Regulus’s spine. “How- how’d you get out of the lockdown?”

Barty tilts his head as if the answer’s obvious. “The spell you gave us. It worked.”

Regulus takes a few stumbling steps backwards as the world he knew turns inside out. Shit. He’d wasted so much time. “It worked?”

“Yeah.” Evan sounds slightly confused. “Why-”

“I have to go,” Regulus chokes, starting to back up quickly. “Don’t- er. Don’t die. Shit.” 

Regulus turns back to the fight, ducking his head and starting into the fray. His heart pounds. Pettigrew. He needs to find Pettigrew. He looks around, maybe for his brother, maybe for Lupin. Peter always seems to be lurking near one of them. 

Regulus spots him, finally, near the spot the waves meet the sand a little ways down the beach. He tears off his mask- probably a bad idea- but he needs Pettigrew to look him in the face when he confronts him. 

A flash of anger burns hot through him.

“Pettigrew!” he shouts, tightening his grip around his wand and stalking forward.

Peter looks up, eyes going wide when they land on him. Regulus immediately flicks his wrist, hitting him with a muscle-jellifying curse and watching as Pettigrew tips backwards on the sand, melting into a limp pile of flesh. Regulus stands over him, chest heaving. 

“You little fucking bitch,” he hisses, pressing a booted foot to Pettigrew’s stomach. “They trusted you-”

“Regulus?” Peter coughs, trying and failing to shove him off. 

“How dare you?” Regulus spits, shoving down harder.

“James!” Peter cries out, and Regulus freezes.

James?

James?

Then he looks up and there he is, a little ways down the beach, narrowly avoiding a curse from Dolohov. Regulus’s blood runs cold. He’s not supposed to be here. Regulus told him not to be here.

The idiot. 

James’s head immediately turns towards them at Peter's cry, eyes going wide at the sight in front of him. He starts over, kicking up sand in his haste.

Regulus looks back down at Peter, curling his lip. “He doesn’t know, does he? What a fucking rat you are?”

“So you finally used the spell,” Pettigrew coughs. “Why the aggression, then?”

Regulus kicks him once, then drops into a squat next to him, pressing his wand into his throat. “Because you chose the wrong Death Eater.”

Peter’s eyes go wide with understanding. “You traitor,” he breathes, as if it’s a foreign concept.

Regulus snarls. “Takes one to know one.”

“How could you?” Peter says, struggling limply like a fish on the deck of a boat.

Regulus presses the wand deeper into his throat. “Because, unlike you, I actually love the people I claim to care about. I should kill you right here.”

“You think James would ever forgive you for that?” Peter chokes. “You think Sirius would?”

“Don’t fucking say their names.”

“Peter!” James is getting closer, wand raised. “Regulus, get the fuck off him!”

“Nonloqui,” Regulus hisses, and watches with satisfaction as Peter’s mouth seals itself shut before reopening. Two uses of the same curse in one week may be a bit much, but now at least he can insure Peter will stay silent. He won’t be saying anything about Regulus’s allegiance anytime soon. “We aren’t done, Pettigrew.”

A curse hits Regulus square in the side, sending him tumbling away from Peter. It doesn’t do much more than toss him, just a means to an end. Peter, seemingly recovered from the muscle-jellification curse, struggles to his feet. James grabs his arm and yanks him the rest of the way up, leveling his wand at Regulus’s. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, confused and hurt.

“What are you doing?” James hisses.

“He just attacked me!” Peter cries.

“I told you not to be here,” Regulus growls.

“What- I can’t-”

Peter shrinks back dramatically. “James, we have to do something! He’s dangerous!”

Regulus can’t resist sending another curse squarely at Peter’s chest, taking care to make this one a little more painful than the last. Pettigrew cries out and doubles over, leaving James to jump between them.

“Regulus, bloody stop!”

Regulus stumbles to his feet, ignoring James and jinxing Peter again, watching with satisfaction as boils spread across his face. Then a spell hits him in the side, not from James but from somewhere else, and his attention diverts. Sturgis Podmore moves towards him quickly, wand raised. Regulus can feel his muscles start to weaken from whatever curse hit him, but luckily he knows this one. He casts the counter as quickly as he can and regains his balance. 

“You need to leave,” he hisses at James. “It isn’t safe.” And then he stumbles up the beach, Podmore hot on his heels.

He needs to regroup. He needs to catch his breath. Unfortunately, Sturgis seems to have other ideas, made evident when a bright red curse shoots over Regulus’s shoulder. There are dunes at the top of the beach, low rising hills dotted with sparse grasses. Regulus points a stunning curse behind him blindly and scrambles up one of them, rolling down the other side. 

He pushes himself to his hands and knees, gasping for air and spitting out sand. For a moment, everything’s okay. Then it isn’t. 

“Shit.”

Regulus goes still at the voice, looking up slowly. Dorcas Meadows sits about two feet away from him, legs stretched out in front of her. Next to her, Marlene McKinnon is wrapping a cut on her thigh. 

“Fuck,” Regulus whispers, hanging his head for a moment.

Across from him, McKinnon scrambles for her wand, mouth opening in shock. Regulus gets there first, sending a stunning curse directly at her chest. She goes stiff as a board, eyes wide as her wand falls from her fingers.

Dorcas raises her own instantly, aiming with one deathly-still hand. The other she keeps clamped on the wound on her thigh. 

They lock eyes. 

“So?” Regulus asks finally, voice hoarse. It's the first word he’s said to her since their fight at school. “What now, Meadows?”

Dorcas glances sideways at Marlene. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“She would’ve done worse to me.”

“And you would’ve deserved it.”

Regulus says nothing, still staring.

Dorcas screws up her face in frustration before cursing and dropping her wand. “Sorry Marlene,” She murmurs, before she shoves forward and tackles Regulus in a tight hug. 

He wraps his arms around her, squeezing as tight as he can and shutting his eyes. She smells warm and familiar.

“I missed you,” She croaks.

“I missed you too,” He manages, only letting go when he has to. “Are you okay?”

“This stupid cut on my leg- Malfoy’s work, by the way- but other than that, yeah. You?”

Regulus nods, running a sandy hand through his hair and taking a deep breath as he tries to calm his nerves. “Fine. I have to- I have to figure out how to end this fucking thing.”

Dorcas grimaces, still holding on to his arm. He doesn’t want her to let go quite yet. “Neither side seems too intent on stopping,” She frowns. “I’m fairly certain Moody’s enjoying this, actually.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Regulus confesses.

“Go fight. Not- don’t hurt anyone. Please. Just do what you have to and then convince your Lord this isn’t a fight you’ll win.”

Regulus nods, opening his mouth to say something- 

-when a singular, lone howl rips through the air.

They lock eyes.

“Fuck,” They hiss in unison. 

The werewolves are here. 

“It isn’t the full moon,” Dorcas whispers, horrified. 

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Regulus replies, already moving towards the edge of the dune. Some of the werewolves had already started staying turned, only going back to their human forms for a week or two at a time. He spares Dorcas one last long look. “Say sorry to your girlfriend for me,” he says, before he vaults over the top of the dune and takes off, back into the mess. 

 

---

 

Remus wants to find Sirius. He actually desperately needs to find Sirius, because every inch of him is panicking in a way only he knows how to manage.

The werewolf in front of him howls again and Remus ducks to the side, tripping across the sand. He’d been here when the Death Eaters arrived, waiting in a silent mass of Order members, praying the anonymous tip they’d received was right. 

Turns out it was.

Remus is no longer so sure that’s a good thing. 

Of course, they’d suggested evacuating the bases conducting research near here and letting the Death Eaters greet an empty beach, but Moody had hated that idea, and Dumbledore usually let Moody take the lead on battle strategies. “Better to get it out of the way,” Moody had said. “Take them out while we still have the chance.”

Remus isn’t sure what he means by ‘take them out.’ He certainly isn’t planning on killing anyone tonight. This werewolf, though, may have other plans. It swings a hand after Remus, who just barely manages to dodge and raise his wand, shooting a stunning spell at its chest. Is this what I’m like? He wonders. Is this what they see?

It’s not the full moon, but if Remus had to guess he’d say this is one of the special wolves being affected by the slow change. Fenrir, of course, is nowhere to be found. The coward. 

He can see two more further up the beach, but that seems to be the last of them. Good. He can get this over with in one fell swoop. If it doesn’t work, then…

Then they might start having to use more than stunning curses. 

But he’s been planning this for a while. Of course, so it didn’t get out, he could only tell a select few. In this case, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Moody. He’d asked Snape if he thought it would work.

He’d been dismissive, but Remus could see the idea spark in his eyes. He didn’t know why he thought he could trust him. Maybe because some part of him trusted Regulus, and he knew the younger Black would keep Snape quiet if he had to. Maybe it was just plain stupid. 

Either way, his trust must’ve paid off, because the wolf coming towards him isn’t deterred when Remus shoves a hand into the satchel around his waist and yanks out a large jar of brown potion. He unscrews it quickly, all while backing up into the ocean. Water soaks through his shoes but he can’t bring himself to care as he raises his wand, pointing it at the jar and whispering the spell he’s been practicing for at least four weeks.

He holds his breath as the potion in the jar immediately raises out and into the air, one solid blob of liquid. Higher and higher it raises, till it hovers above all their heads and shimmers in the moonlight. Please work, Remus prays, dropping the discarded jar into the ocean and staring upwards. 

The wolf on the beach in front of him moves closer, curious yet hesitant about the crashing waves. If this doesn’t work, Remus thinks, I’m dead.  

And then it happens. The brown mass of liquid busts and shoots outwards in tiny droplets that instantly vaporize, morphing into a dark cloud of gas that descends upon the entire beach. 

Remus, used to the bitter taste of wolfsbane, only grimaces as he inhales. Across the sand there are cries of surprise from both Death Eaters and Order members alike. The waves splash against his ankles.

The wolf takes another step forward.

And then-

And then it stops. And sniffs. Sniffs again. 

It canters back as its face twists in discomfort, shifting on the sand. Remus catches its eyes, watching the pupils dilate and then shrink to normal size. 

He grins.

“Hello,” he says, taking a step forward. The wolf makes a wounded sort of sound as it begins to shrink, hair retreating and claws retracting. Remus watches with a sick fascination, elated with victory.

When it’s done, a boy of no more than fifteen lays shivering on the sand, eyes shut. Remus squats next to him, shaking his bare shoulder gently. The boy stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake, thoroughly out. Remus looks up across the beach, watching one of the other two wolves shift into her human form as well, collapsing on the ground. The other wolf doesn’t change so easily, but the potion seems to have an effect of some kind. The wolf shifts back nervously, obviously regaining some human consciousness. After a moment of indecision it abandons the Order member in front of it and turns to the dunes, scampering off over the hills. 

The gas around them dissipates little by little. 

The potioneer he hired to brew the potions worked in a little sleeping powder upon his request, before brewing an additional batch of protection brews everyone in the Order took before meeting at the beach. What’s confusing Remus, however, is that none of the Death Eaters seem to be at all affected. 

The powder in the potion obviously wasn’t defective, if the two sleeping wolves-turned-humans were anything to go by. 

And then Sirius laughs somewhere further up the beach and suddenly Remus doesn’t really care about the gas or why the Death Eaters are resisting it, instead stepping over the boy on the sand and taking off towards the sound of his voice.

 

---

 

At first, the gas freaked Evan out. It was brown and thick, lingering in an odd way over the beach. But the Dark Lord had warned them about this tactic, even prepared them for it, instructing Carrow to give them two vials of protection potions Regulus brewed as soon as they landed on the beach.

Looking around, it seemed as if no one was affected. Everyone seemed to pause, staring at each other in apparent apprehension that morphed into bewilderment when nothing happened.

Huh.

And then Barty rested a hand on his shoulder, whispered, “A distraction,” and then whooped loudly and dashed into the fog.

And Evan, after a moment of indecision, did what he always seems to do when it comes to Barty. He followed. 

Even as he moves through it, the cloud of gas seems to dissipate around them. The delay, though, allows Evan to duck under a faulty spell sent in his vague direction.

Get through this, he thinks. Just get through this and back to school and you can pretend this isn’t what you are now. This isn’t who you are now. 

A curse hits him in the leg and he trips, falling as a shocking pain cuts across his shin. He pulls his mask off with one hand, gasping as he clams a hand over the smarting wound. 

“Boy!”

Evan looks up, forcing himself to his feet and readying his wand. Moody stalks towards him, beady eyes fixed on him. Evan sends him a curse that he easily deflects, still moving forward. 

“You’re the Rosier boy, aren’t ye?” Moody swipes at him with another hex that Evan stumbles to the side to avoid. 

“Fuck off and die,” Evan responds, rather eloquently. 

“Truly a poet,” Moody growls, and then they’re dueling.

They go hard and fast, trading spells quicker than Evan thought he was capable of. Anger burns through him, because even if he’s not fully committed to the Dark Lord, this is no alternative. For someone who preaches peace, there sure are a lot of bright green spells shooting from Moody’s wand. 

“Is this how you plan to save humanity?” Evan spits, throwing up another shield charm. “With killing curses?”

“I plan to save humanity by exterminating its attackers,” Moody rasps in response, shooting out a sharp curse that hits Evan in the stomach and- 

-and goes straight through. Evan lets out an awful torn sound as he feels the hole ripped through his stomach. It’s no bigger than a knut, and yet judging by the amount of blood that immediately gushes from the wound, it’s not to be underestimated. For the first time, Evan feels real, unadulterated fear stir in his stomach. Moody’s better than him, he realizes. Truly and substantially better. Unless he gets out now, this isn’t a fight he can win. 

Another curse hits him across the hip. 

Evan trips sideways, wishing he kept his mask on. He needs to get out of here. Sooner rather than later, preferably.

But he’s no quitter. 

And Moody’s still advancing.

So he sends another hex.

Moody growls in surprise when it strikes him in the shoulder, sending him reeling backwards. “Son of a bitch-” he hisses. 

Evan finds Barty with his eyes, fighting some anonymous attacker on the other side of the beach. He’s fine, he tells himself. He’s fine. “Don’t talk about my mother like that,” he smirks instead, ducking in closer to Moody. 

The sudden shift in proximity seems to catch him off guard and he takes a step back, raising his wand again. “Ah. Yer mother. What would she think if she saw you here?” He tries to curse Evan but he throws himself to the side before he can. “I suppose she wouldn’t care much, as long as she’s not a part of the action.” Moody gives an ugly grin, baring his teeth. “She’s always been a coward- evidently, just like her son.”

Evan’s heart may not fully be with the Dark Lord, but he’s still a Death Eater and Slytherin at heart. He still knows how to make somebody hurt.

Which is why, before Moody gets the chance to close his mouth, Evan darts closer and punches him in the stomach. 

This, naturally, catches the older man by surprise. He lets out a loud grunt followed by a sharp cry of pain when Evan follows that up with a punch to the face and a kick to the shin. He’s dimly aware of his own injuries, his body aching and begging for a rest. He can’t do this much longer, he thinks, as he feels the blood run down his stomach and hip and countless other places from Moody’s curses.

But then Moody goes down and Evan follows him, kneeling on either side of his torso and hitting him again and again. “I said,” he growls between blows, “Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“Oh?” Moody croaks, rolling them over and shoving a knee into Evan’s rips. Evan chokes on blood (which, he thinks distantly, cannot be good), fighting desperately, uselessly. “What about your cunt of a boyfriend then? I saw you two together earlier. No one told me queers were allowed in Voldemort’s ranks.”

And Evan knows he’s just trying to piss him off, trying to get a rise out of him anyway he can. There’s no way he could’ve interpreted anything between him and Barty, because Barty would never let there be anything to interpret. Not in public. Never in public. Barely alone. No- Moody’s under the assumption that calling Barty his boyfriend will be more insulting than calling him a queer cunt. 

That turns out to be a mistake. 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Evan’s kneeing the man above him in the crotch and rolling him over with brute strength. Somehow he gets his wand in hand and without hesitation digs it into the place where Moody’s eyeball meets his eyelid, watching as the flesh parts and relishing in the resulting scream of pain from the thrashing man beneath him. 

With the tip of the wand pressed under his eye, Evan whispers a cutting curse and watches with glee as the blood immediately spurts out of the socket. Evan reaches over, and with his bare fingers and a sick pop, takes out his eye. 

There’s so much red. 

Moody can do nothing but twist under him, mouth opening and closing in abstract horror. Evan sways dangerously over him, his own blood loss and exhaustion threatening to get the better of him. He pulls back, somehow, stumbling to his feet and reaching for his wand with bloody fingers. 

Standing above Moody, he tries to get his head on straight. The wound in his stomach aches, and Evan knows, deep down, that he’s losing too much blood. 

He presses one hand against his torso, taking in a choked little gasp that he decides to count as a breath. He raises his wand with his other hand, shaky and trembling, pointing it at the man on the ground in front of him. Behind them, the waves crash on the beach. They’d moved closer during the fight, Evan realizes blearily. He can feel water seeping through his socks.

He forces himself to refocus on his target in front of him.

Kill him, he thinks. Kill him and be done with it. 

Distantly, he hears Barty cry out in pain. Instantly he looks over, focusing his shaky vision on the other side of the beach. He’d know that voice anywhere. He takes a wavering step towards its source.

It’s like he said all those years ago- his love for Barty has always left him bloody. 

“Watch out!” Someone shouts, and he knows that voice too. Regulus, he thinks distantly. Reg. 

Then a spell hits him in the side of the head and he stumbles back, attention snapping to the man in front of him who has one arm raised, wand pointed directly at Evan’s face.

Evan can’t feel any part of his body. Distantly he realizes he dropped his wand. He should probably pick that up. 

He can feel something warm and sticky spread down his hair from the point the spell hit him. The liquid runs over his ear and down his neck, and he knows exactly what it is.

Moody still has his wand raised, and Evan knows what’s about to happen exactly three seconds before it does. There’s blood on his head and his stomach and everywhere. He needs to move, he knows, every cell in his body screaming at him to get out of the way, but he stays rooted to the spot. His eyes, though, instinctually find Barty again. 

There’s so much he needs to tell him. So much he has to say. He needs him to know he’s his own person. He needs him to know he’d kiss the scratches on his arms forever if it meant he’d understand there’s more to him than his flesh. He needs him to know that Evan never cared about blood supremacy, but he did care about him, and that was always enough. 

He needs him to know he loves him. 

The thought hits him like a punch to the gut. Wait, Evan suddenly wants to beg. I never told him. He doesn’t know. Please, let me tell him. 

But there’s no time.

There’s never been time. 

He should’ve said it sooner.

The world goes still. He can hear the sea behind him. He likes the sound of the waves in the darkness. The deep grey reminds him of Regulus’s eyes. 

On the other side of the beach, Barty looks up. Or maybe he’s always been looking, but either way, Evan notices, and then they’re looking at each other. 

My love, Evan thinks, and wants Barty to somehow hear him from across the sand. It matters, suddenly and overwhelmingly, that he knows. Oh, my love. I’d follow you anywhere. 

And then the spell hits him directly in the head, and nothing matters very much anymore. 

 

---

 

It only takes a moment. 

Just one. 

Just a blink of an eye, a shift of the foot. 

And Evan falls.

For one last second, there’s a world with Evan in it, and it’s still painful and horrible and disgusting, but it’s a little bit brighter because he’s there. Because for all the shit life has to offer, Evan Rosier is still a pinprick of light amongst the darkness.

And then in the next, there isn’t. 

And everything goes dark again. 

Regulus doesn’t think he can move. He stares at Evan, laying face down in the sea, and he wonders when he’s planning on getting up. 

It’s a little rude, he thinks, to stay down when they so obviously need his help on the beach. 

And his hair. His blonde hair. There’s something dark creeping down across it, dyeing it brown. Regulus needs to tell him to clean it off, because Pandora will be so mad. 

“Our hair is the same color,” she used to say, winding her fingers through Evan’s strands and comparing them to hers. She was right. The shade match was exact- the same white blond that glistened in the sun. In another life, she always joked, they could’ve been siblings.

But now Evan’s hair is brown, reflecting oddly under the moon. The water around him starts to turn brown as well, cloudy and swirling with the sand he brought up when he fell.

Get up Evan, Regulus thinks. Get up and clean off your hair. 

But Evan doesn’t move, and Regulus knows why. His hair stays brown, and Regulus understands that too.

His head catches up a minute before his feet do and then he’s tripping, stumbling, sprinting across the sand towards his friend. Someone crawls and then stumbles away from the body, but Regulus doesn’t get a good look at his face. He drops to his knees, dimly aware of the water soaking through his trousers. Barty falls down across from him, on the other side of Evan, his face torn apart by anguish. 

Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this broken. 

Barty fumbles with Evan’s shoulders, muttering something that Regulus can’t hear. He turns him over and Regulus chokes back vomit, staring at Evan’s wide unseeing eyes. 

“Please,” Barty whimpers. “Evan. Evan. Baby.” 

Evan’s arm falls limp from Barty’s grasp, splashing in the water with a horrible thump. Regulus stares at it, stares at the mark that coils and winds on his forearm, and thinks he might be sick. Even in death, it moves. 

Regulus reaches out, closing a hand around Barty’s wrist. “Hey,” he manages. Everything in him starts to crumble. “Barty.” 

“No, no-“

“Barty,” Regulus hisses, and there are tears on his cheeks and there’s spit on his lips and he can’t get a breath in that doesn’t catch, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Please,” Barty whispers, a soft sound, so rare for him. “Please, darling.” 

Regulus can’t feel his own heartbeat. Maybe it stopped when Evan’s did. 

“Please,” Barty breathes again. A wave washes up and over Evan’s face. 

Barty lets out a sound akin to a sob that gets cut off when a curse lands in the water next to them, sending a small spark through their bodies. 

Because there’s still a war out there- and it refuses to wait for grief. 

Give him a second, Regulus wants to scream. Give him a single goddamn second to mourn the boy he loves. So when Barty doesn’t move from Evan’s side, Regulus rises shakily, gripping his wand. 

Planting his feet he grits his teeth, every inch of him trembling. He shoots a random curse in the direction the last one came from, not caring who or what it’s aimed at. Anger, righteous and crystal-clean, consumes him entirely. He sends out another hex, and then another, baring his teeth at the world as Barty cries behind him.

If it’s all he can do, he thinks, at least he can give them this moment. He might not get a chance to say goodbye, but if Barty does, then that’s enough. 

He watches people notice, watches their eyes go wide, and thinks good. Good. Notice me. Notice him. This is what your war is doing. Look, look, look. 

And then he sees Dorcas, and all he can do is hold her gaze as her eyes fill with tears and horror. 

Barty ducks out of the way of another spell and then the two of them are on their feet over Evan’s body, wands drawn, backs together. Regulus shoots curse after curse, not caring who they hit or which side they do damage to. 

There’s nothing good anymore, he thinks again. Nothing good. Nothing worth saving. Someone on this beach killed Evan, and if everyone here has to die for him to be avenged, so fucking be it. 

It might’ve been Moody. It might not have been. It doesn’t matter. 

He’s never felt rage this pure. 

He was standing still. 

Evan was standing still. 

Neither of them speak, deathly focused. Regulus can feel Barty behind him, feel the way he’s trembling, but there’s nothing he can do. 

“Who?” Barty asks, voice calm and just loud enough for Regulus to hear. Regulus turns his head, staring at him. Barty meets his gaze, perfectly collected. It reminds Regulus of the way the ocean recedes before a tsunami, water going still and birds disappearing, leaving behind nothing but an ominous, deadly silence. 

He looks utterly and entirely dangerous.

And Regulus knows. He sees it in his eyes. The last thread of rationality has drifted away, snapped the second Evan fell. 

You already had his heart, Regulus thinks. Did you have to take his sanity too?

“Moody,” He says, and Barty nods, just once. And then he’s gone, off into the darkness, wand high and target set. 

A curse hits Regulus across the cheek, sending a flash of pain through his face and making him stumble backwards. In doing so he nearly trips on Evan’s body, stepping on his hand. The feel of flesh under his heel makes him gag.

But there are more curses coming his way, so with one last raggest sobbing breath he takes off up the beach, ducking around bodies. He’s soaking wet, and the cold of the night air seems to permeate his very bones. 

He trips in the sand, falling to his hands and knees as he gasps. He starts crying then, or something like it, with tears on his cheeks and not enough air in his lungs. He’s right in the middle of everything, and yet he can’t bring himself to care. 

Suddenly there’s a hand closing around his arm and he’s being yanked to the side just as a bright white light hits the exact spot he was kneeling seconds before. 

Regulus looks up, choking on his spit, and lets out another harsh sob when he sees who it is. James, looking more serious than Regulus has ever seen him, crouches next to him. He has a shield charm up around them, one that will break any minute by the looks of it. James keeps one hand on Regulus’s arm, the other reaching up to quickly wipe the tears off his cheeks.
Regulus wants nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

He catches sight of Barty across the beach and the following wave of guilt that hits him is stronger than anything he’s experienced before. Because James might not remember him, might not love him, might not care, but at least he’s here. At least he’s next to him, with his hand on his arm.

Regulus can’t speak.

“Come on,” James urges, pulling him to his feet. “We need to get out of here.” 

“No-” Regulus chokes. “I need to get Barty, and Evan-”

“Regulus,” James snaps, voice firm. “You can’t. We have to go. Now.” 

So Regulus, naturally, shoves James away from him, taking multiple steps back and looking around. He can’t think, brain buzzing with some sort of shock-exhaustion combination that’s slowly driving him insane. 

“Regulus!” Someone shouts, and Regulus forces himself to focus on the voice. It’s a masked figure- by the sound of it, Lucius- coming towards him quickly. “The Dark Lord is calling us back. We’re leaving!” 

Regulus watches it happen. Watches his eyes fix on James, then go wide with realization. 

And that's when he remembers the hit on James’s head and the instructions they were given.

Lucius, only five feet away now, starts to sprint towards James as Death Eaters across the beach begin to disapparate on the spot.  

Regulus is about six feet away, and yet he moves as quickly as he can, world narrowing to the single focus of reaching James first. 

In the end, they get there at the same time. Regulus grabs James’s wrist just as Malfoy gets his other arm, and then he can do nothing but let himself be yanked away as Lucius twists the three of them into space.

Notes:

Tw:
- minor character death
-gore (eye mutilation- not terribly graphic and rather short but there all the same)
-brief homophobic language

Sorry sorry sorry!!! that one hurt to write, not gonna lie guys. thought about keeping everyone alive but decided against that purely bc if i can’t have my mcd i can at least have this (did i make myself deeply upset to the point of tears? Well yes)
Love you though evan top 5 characters fs sorry buddy
Everytime i reread part of this story i think omg this shit is so depressing no one is gonna wanna put up with this but then you all leave such kind kudos and comments and im like wait!! If they don’t like it they can just not read it!! And its so freeing so thank you fellow angst enjoyers for staying
And the next chapter is just so!!!!!
Guys… its happening.
Get hyped.

Chapter 59: Rising

James isn’t expecting Lucius to grab him. He certainly isn’t expecting Regulus to take his other arm a second later, fingers tight around his wrist as Malfoy apparates them away before James even has time to scream. 

Panic flashes through him as the world drops out from beneath his feet and rejoins him somewhere else. His friends are still back there. He can’t just let himself get kidnapped - not while the fight’s still going. 

Because that’s what this is. He’s being taken as a hostage.

He becomes acutely aware of that fact when his feet touch solid ground and he lands in the middle of what appears to be a front stoop, surrounded by Death Eaters. 

Regulus, wet and shaking next to him, doesn’t release the tight hold he has on James’s wrist. Lucius, however, lets him go and grabs his wand, holding it under James’s chin.

The Death Eaters around them either watch or disapparate, obviously drained from the fight and using this as a waystation- a layover between the beach and their homes. 

James assumes he’s in front of Grimmauld place. If Sirius’s numerous descriptions didn’t do the trick, the house number on the wall certainly does. Lucius opens the door and shoves James inside, moving quickly. Regulus leads him through the house, hand still closed around his arm. 

A shrill rush of fear courses through him when Lucius presses the wand harder against his neck. “Get the Dark Lord,” he hisses to the nearest masked figure. They stop in the living room, backs to the large fireplace.  Regulus’s fingers tighten on James’s wrist. 

“He’s out currently.” Walburga steps into the room, dark black hair coiled into a tight bun on the back of her head. She glances over James with her usual disdain and James tries to fit as much loathing as he can into the look he gives back. He hates her. 

“Potter. Fascinating. Good work, Regulus.”

James chances a look down at Regulus’s face. He’s staring at his mother, pupils dilated, lips slightly parted. His hair plasters against his forehead, clothes sticking to him at every angle. There’s a small damp spot on the carpet under where he stands. Regulus’s eyes flick to his, widening just slightly in a clear warning. I’ve got this, he can almost hear him say. Just stay quiet.

James immediately disobeys, thrashing against Regulus’s hold and Lucius’s wand. Lucius hisses and sends some sort of stinging curse through his body, subduing James. 

James’s heart pounds in his chest as Walburga moves closer, studying him carefully. “The Dark Lord will be very pleased.”

“Where is he?” Regulus asks next to him, voice shockingly calm. A new miniature surge of anger tears through James at the betrayal. He shouldn't have expected anything else- Regulus has always been a Death Eater, and told him as much. He attacked Peter on the beach. Still, James thought… he thought there was still hope. 

“Let me go,” he spits, still not recovered enough from whatever Lucius hit him with to truly struggle. 

Everyone ignores him. Some cloaked figures hang around, taking off their masks and collapsing onto the couch. Most of them, though, move towards the door, and soon the room is mostly empty save the few that chose to stay behind.

“He’s on official business,” Walburga says cooly. “He took the elf.”

Again, Regulus’s fingers clench around James’s arm. “When will he be back?”

“In two days, though really it could be any time.”

“Can we get this over with?” Malfoy interrupts, jamming his wand further into James’s throat. 

“What would you do, Lucius?” Regulus glares.

“Obviously Walburga should search his mind for anything useful and then kill him. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“You forget the Dark Lord asked for him specifically. How do you think he’ll react when he comes back to find his requested hostage already dead?”

Malfoy glares, blond hair glinting in the low light. James thrashes again, mostly recovered, and tries to evaluate his options.

He could run. Maybe. The door isn’t far, but between him and it there are about ten armed people who all want him dead. He needs to tell Sirius he’s okay- though maybe he should hold off on that one. Malfoy’s looking particularly murderous. He can feel his breath catch in the back of his throat. Now is really not a good time for a panic attack, he thinks, desperately trying to get his heart rate back under control.

“Maman, we can’t kill him. Not yet. Not before the Dark Lord gets back.” Regulus’s expression is blank, but then- 

Then something interesting happens.

His thumb, pressed against the inside of James’s wrist, starts to move back and forth in little soothing motions. James shudders despite himself, trying to focus on the small point of contact. The gentle pressure over his pulse helps him concentrate, clearing his mind.

“I agree.” Walburga moves closer to James, sneering as she looks him over. “So just a mental sweep, then.”

“No,” Regulus says quickly. Her eyes snap to his. “I’m sorry, Maman, but the Dark Lord told me he wants to be the one to examine Potter. I think he wants to be the first to know whatever Potter has to tell us.” 

James stares at him. Regulus’s gaze is fixed firmly on his mother, but James can see the shaky rise and fall of his chest. James is fairly certain he just pulled half of that out of his ass. Is he… protecting him? Is that what this is?

Lucius scoffs. “So what? We’re just supposed to wait? What do we do with him till then?”

“A good point.” Walburga says, turning back to Regulus. “Maybe we should stun him until the Dark Lord returns.” 

“We’d risk muddling his brain,” Regulus says. “We need him calm and thinking clearly.” 

“What would you suggest, then?”

Before Regulus can respond there’s a shriek and Bellatrix Lestrange enters the room, wiping blood off her cheek and grinning. “What a marvelous fight! Such fun. I can’t wait to-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening dramatically at the sight of James. “A hostage!” She cries, moving forward. “Oh, Reggie, good job.”

“It was me, actually,” Lucius pipes up on the other side of him, but nobody seems to pay him any mind. A younger Death Eater with ratty blond hair stares at him, eyes drilling holes into James's skull. James looks away, unable to bear his gaze any longer. 

Bellatrix pulls out her wand and James instinctually shrinks back. “Fuck off,” He manages, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

“Bella.” Regulus lets go of his wrist and the sudden absence of contact somehow makes things ten times worse. “We’re waiting for the Dark Lord to return. He wants him first.” 

“Surely he won’t mind if we have our fun before he gets back,” Bellatrix hums, closing in.

For the first time, James catches a hint of uncertainty in Regulus's eyes. He gives James the quickest look, pleading, and James gets the sinking feeling this one might be harder to get out of. 

“We need his mind intact,” Regulus says cautiously.

“Oh, we can do that.” Bellatrix grins, pressing closer, and James backs up against the fireplace. 

“Stay the fuck away from me,” He hisses, but knows if he actually fights back he’ll make everything much worse.

“I had so much fun in the battle, but I'm still in the mood for a bit of blood.” Her eyes flash, and fear sinks deep into James’s stomach. “Aren't you?”

Regulus steps forward. “Don’t-”

“Crucio.”

And James falls. 

It’s agony, pure and unfiltered, searing through every inch of him. He’s never felt pain like this before, and never will again. He curls into himself, making some sort of sound he doesn’t have the capacity to identify. Every nerve tears itself apart, just to rebuild and burn up all over again. He’s shaking, he thinks, as each of his limbs erupt in hurt. 

He doesn’t know how long it goes on. He doesn’t care. He just wants it to end. 

And then, miraculously, it does. The pain recedes to a harsh ache that settles into every bone, leaving him trembling and weak on the carpet.

“-enough,” Regulus is saying, standing above him with a hand outstretched, grabbing Bellatrix’s arm. “He can’t take it. The Dark Lord will be furious if we mess something up.” There's something desperate in his voice, all consuming and aching with need. 

“I hope you’re right. Otherwise you’ll be wasting such an opportunity.” Despite her protest, Bellatrix steps back, and Regulus breathes a small sigh of relief. “One’s enough for me,” she sing-songs.

James can’t move yet, can only squeeze his eyes shut as he tries to come to terms with the amount of pain that just surged through him. How did Sirius take that so often, he wonders blearily. 

“What do we do, then?” Walburga asks, stepping forward and wrinkling her nose at James like he’s a stain on her carpet.

“Let me take care of it.” Regulus doesn’t look at him. “I’ll figure out something to do with him. The Dark Lord would trust me with this, Maman, you know he would. Let me handle it.”

Walburga stares at him for a minute, unreadable eyes locked on her son. James struggles to push himself up on his elbows, gasping for air. “Fine. I assume you know to take his wand off him immediately. Don’t let him roam around. Don’t let him speak to anyone.” 

“Of course.” 

“And if he says anything of importance, tell me immediately.”

“Naturally.”

“Now go. Get him off my rug.”

Regulus turns, bending down to pull James to his feet. He steadies him carefully, breath hitching as he moves them towards the stairs. “Regulus,” His mother calls behind them. Regulus freezes, forcing James to a stop as well.

“Oui?”

“Why are you dripping wet?”

James feels the shudder that runs through Regulus’s entire body, and remembers what he looked like kneeling over Rosier’s body in the sea. 

Oh. 

“The fight was on a beach,” Regulus says, voice empty. “I fell in.”

“Get changed. I can’t have you leaving puddles everywhere, especially when we don’t have Kreature to clean up after you.”

“Of course,” Regulus says, sounding hollow. James doesn’t dare speak. Then Regulus pushes him forward, up the stairs and down the hallway, into the last door on the corridor.

It’s his room, James realizes, looking around. There’s a twin bed on one side, a small desk on the other, tucked under a grimy window. The dark rug on the floor somehow does nothing to make the place look more inviting. 

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Regulus shoves himself away from James, crossing to the other side of the room and taking a gasping breath. He presses his face into his hands, shoulders shaking. With what, James can’t tell. 

“Reg-”

“Don’t.”

Regulus braces one hand on the wall and sinks down, drawing his knees to his chest and making a small sound. Everything in James itches to reach out and help, to take him into his arms and make everything better. 

But that’s not what they do.

His muscles ache as he lowers himself onto the floor, taking a few deep breaths of his own. He’s alive, at least. He somehow got out of that with all his limbs. And now he’s stuck in Number 12 Grimmauld Place as Sirius’s younger brother holds him hostage. The flood of adrenaline from whatever that situation just was slowly seeps out of him.

How the fuck did he get here?

The fight on the beach was violent and a lot more than he was ready for- too many spells flying in too many directions. The chaos immediately overwhelmed him and all James could do was focus on one thing at a time, running around and helping his friends. Remus’s plan- if that’s what you can call it- worked almost perfectly. He’d explained it to James only seconds before they left for the beach, shoving a protection potion into his hands and telling him to drink. Dorcas went down quickly but Marlene got her out almost immediately, dragging her behind a sand dune to patch her up. Rosier wasn’t so lucky. 

James, still trembling from the crucio and too weak to stand, looks back at Regulus. The other boy’s still sitting with his head between his knees on the floor, obviously trying to regulate himself. James wants to tell him it’s alright, that he’s free to cry or scream or do whatever he’s very clearly trying to hold himself back from, but the words won’t come. 

“Thank you,” He whispers instead, voice cracking a little. “For whatever you did back there. Thanks.”

Regulus lets his head thump against the wall behind him, letting out a long breath. “I need your wand,” he mutters.

“What?” 

“Your wand, Potter. Just- please.”

James, in no state to argue, hands it to him with little protest. “So. Er. How is this gonna work?”

Regulus rubs his eyes. “I don’t know. You’ll- you’ll have to stay here. Just for a few days. I’ll figure something out.”

James blinks. “You aren’t going to let Voldemort have me?”

Regulus gives him a look. “Didn’t you just see what I got you out of? Did it seem like I wanted you to die?” 

“Uh-”

“You’re more use to me alive, Potter.”

Oh.

Right. 

“Prettier too,” James says.​ Too soon, maybe, but he can’t help it. Regulus just gives him a dry look.

“I guess I should be grateful Voldemort’s away. At least we have two days.”

“Two days.” Regulus mutters, rising to his feet and steadying himself against the wall. “I- I need to get out of these clothes.” 

There’s blood on his sleeves.

James’s smile slips off his face when he remembers. “Shit, Reg, can I-”

“Just. Just stay here. I promise it’s in your best interest not to leave this room.” 

Regulus grabs some clothes from his closet and shuts the door behind him, probably changing in the toilet. James watches him go, heart constricting. He wishes he could do literally anything to help. This, he feels, is beyond fixing. 

He tips his head back against the bed, wondering what Remus and Sirius are thinking. Oh god, what about his mum? He needs to write them. Needs to tell them he’s okay. After a second of thought he dismisses the idea. He’d never be allowed to send out a letter. 

Every inch of him aches, trembling occasionally with a leftover spasm. No wonder Sirius always looked exhausted when he came back from break, hands shaking and eyes tired.

His head hurts too, in a different way than the rest of his body. In the way it has been for months now, thick and ugly. He’s starting to suspect it may have something to do with Reg. Maybe it's James’s guilt surrounding his attraction to him manifesting in a physical way.

When Regulus comes back a few minutes later, he’s freshly showered and changed into clean clothes. James forces himself to his feet, swaying almost immediately. Regulus steadies him by grabbing his arm. He looks him up and down, wincing apologetically. “It’ll get better,” he says quietly. “Your legs will stop shaking in a minute. You’ll be sore for a while, though.”

James nods softly, watching him. Regulus’s lashes glitter as if he’s been crying. James wants to kick himself. Of course he’s been crying.

Regulus throws his clothes in the cabinet against the wall. “You should’ve listened to me when I told you not to come. This is entirely your fault.” 

James softens. “I couldn’t have just watched my friends go off without me. What if they got hurt and I wasn’t there?”

Regulus looks away, eyes hard. “What if.” 

“Reg.”

“Whatever. Just. You should’ve stayed home.” 

James sits forward. “Aw, are you worried about me?”

“Always.” Regulus mutters. 

James doesn’t know what to say to that. “Look at me, I’m fine.”

Regulus narrows his eyes at him. “You were kidnapped and tortured, like, half an hour ago. And,” he adds, falling into the chair by his desk. “And I have no idea how to get you out of this without blowing my cover.” 

“Wow,” James says. “You really don’t want me to die, do you.”

Regulus just huffs a bitter laugh. “You know too much.”

“Is it because you told me about the beach? You think if he looks through my head he’ll see you give that away?”

Regulus shrugs. “That certainly doesn’t help.”

Outside, the stars glint in the sky. James can’t help staring at them through the grime of the window, wondering how he can still see them through the lights of the city. “Why’d you do that?”

Regulus shrugs. “I needed to warn you.” 

“Why?”

Regulus ignores him, propping his chin on a hand. “I can’t teach you occlumency in two days.”

“You know occlumency?”

Regulus stares at him. “Yes.” 

“Impressive.”

The other boy shakes his head. “Not really. It took a while.” 

“So until the Dark Lord comes back, what then?”

Regulus rubs his temple. “Just… lay low. I can’t get you out, because there’s no logical way for you to escape. I’ll… I’ll talk to Remus. Maybe. I don’t fucking know. I’m so-” he cuts himself off, biting his lip hard and blinking quickly, looking away. 

“It’s alright,” James says softly. “Don’t worry about it right now. You did everything you could. I’m fine, you got me through that, somehow. We can figure this out later.”

“For the next two days, you won’t leave this room. You can’t. This house is crawling with people that want you dead, and I won’t always be there to help.” Regulus rubs his face. “God.” 

“I can’t figure you out,” James whispers from the bed. Who’s side are you on?

“Few can,” Regulus responds, eyes glinting. James wants to comb his hair away from his face and kiss his forehead. 

“You attacked Peter.”

“And I’d do it again.”

“But you also told me about the beach.” 

“Just-” Regulus frowns, turning to face him. “Can we- I need- let's talk about this tomorrow. I can’t do this tonight.”

“‘Course.”

“I’m…” Regulus’s eyes flick up to meet James’s. “I’m sorry.”

James nods to the window. “It’s late. You need to sleep. We both do. We have an interesting two days ahead.”

“You’re the hostage,” Regulus grumbles as he stands. “You’re not supposed to be giving the orders.”

James just smiles, deciding Regulus is right. Neither of them can handle anything serious tonight. No deep conversations about loyalties and allegiances or reflections on their current predicament.

Just aches and wounds and things that will be sore for a long time yet. “So. Where am I sleeping?”

Regulus looks around and curses softly. “The floor.”

“Surely not.”

“There’s a rug.”

“Can I get a blanket?”

Regulus stares at him for a minute and then sighs, hanging his head. “Fucking fine. Come on. We’ll take Sirius’s cot.”

So they move one door down the hall and push their way into Sirius’s old room. It almost looks lived in with his raunchy posters and photos stuck on the wall. There’s a large one of a motorcycle right above the bed, and James smiles at it softly. “He got one, you know,” he says to Regulus. “Just a few days ago.” 

Regulus swallows, refusing to look at the poster. “Oh.”

They open the closet and drag a cot out that looks like it hasn’t seen the light of day in 50 years.  James coughs as Regulus brushes dust off its army-green surface. “I guarantee I can fit comfortably in your bed.”

“No.”

“Please, Reg.”

“Begging won’t get you anywhere.”

“Oh, I bet it will,” James says, and enjoys the flush that creeps up Regulus’s neck.

“You’re sleeping on the cot.”

“Pretty please?”

James sleeps on the cot.

Well. Sleep is a generous word. James lays on the cot and stares at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Regulus’s breathing. The fabric under him is uncomfortable, digging into his back and forcing him to shift positions every five minutes. Every time he closes his eyes all he can see is flashes of the battle, of his friends, of Bellatrix’s face. 

Technically the Death Eaters had retreated, right? Did that mean the Order won? Was there something to win, or just something to survive? 

He wonders how many people got hurt. How many children his age. Rosier might’ve been on the wrong side of the war, James thinks, but he didn’t deserve to die. No one was supposed to get hurt. 

Except. Except they were, weren't they? Because otherwise, what’s the point? Both sides were there with the sole purpose of exterminating the other.
Frustrated, he buries his face in his pillow, and focuses on his heartbeat. 

Eventually his body wins out and he drifts into a dreamless land between awake and sleep, half conscious and sweaty. It’s almost like a fever, though he feels physically fine. Mostly. At some point, some hourless moment, he wakes enough to be aware of the sounds around him. Still muddled from sleep he can’t think clearly, thoughts jumbled and misplaced. Above him on the bed, he hears softs hitches of breath. Regulus is crying, he realizes distantly. 

Before conscious thought has a chance to set in, he pushes himself off the cot and shifts Regulus over without thinking, sliding into bed next to him and then pulling him back into his chest. James tucks Regulus’s head under his chin, acting purely on instinct, still not awake. Regulus immediately melts into him, holding on and burying his face in his shirt. Why had he even been on the floor in the first place? They never had a problem sharing a bed before. This is what they always used to do after one of them had a hard day, James thinks sleepily. Regulus likes to hear his pulse. It feels good to have him back in his arms. Warm. Familiar. Maybe, if he holds him tight enough, he can stop him from breaking apart. 

James isn’t awake enough to wonder how he knows all this. 

And soon, with the warmth of Regulus’s body on his, he isn’t awake at all. 

His last thought as he drifts off is that something must’ve happened to the constellations on the ceiling.

 

---

 

Remus steps out of the bath, toweling off his hair and slipping into some trousers. He makes his way into the living room, stomach tight. Effie hands him a mug of tea, eyes tired. “Sit. We’re discussing strategy.”

Remus sinks onto the couch next to Sirius, glancing at him wearily. The other boy has said very little since they got back from the beach. “Gotten anywhere?”

Sirius shakes his head, leaning back against the cushions. Effie sighs. “We’re working on it. I- he’s fine. We would know.”

“Would we?”

“He wasn’t on the beach, Sirius. Lily said she saw Malfoy and Regulus take him. He’s… with them.”

Sirius chokes. “Oh god, he’s already dead.”

Remus kicks him. “He’s fine. There’s a reason they took him instead of killing him. He-” Remus cuts himself off. He should never have let James fight. He practically knew what was going to happen. Regulus told him as much, way back when Remus found him in the astronomy tower that night. It’s the entire reason Regulus obliviated James in the first place- there’s been a hit out on him for a while. It’s all Remus’s fault. “Regulus won’t let anything happen to him,” he says eventually. Effie meets his eyes and nods.

“He’s done a lot for James. I just- I pray he’ll do this too.”

Sirius sits forward. “What the fuck?”

“Uh-”

“What has Reg done for James?”

Remus just sighs, shaking his head. “We’re getting off topic.” 

“No we aren’t.”

“Sirius,” Remus snaps. “The fucking Death Eaters have Prongs. All that matters right now is how we’re getting him back.”

Sirius visibly deflates, letting out a breath. “Right- yeah. Shit.”

Effie gives Remus an odd look. “We need to arrange a meeting. Are they- is this a ransom thing, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Remus looks up. “Can’t we talk to Dumbledore?”

“He’s on his way now.” 

“Is he actually going to be helpful?”

“He’s our only option. I don’t see what else we can do.”

Sirius looks up. “I need to talk to Reg.”

“Is that really a good idea?” Remus asks at the same time Effie says “what?”

“He said he’s not with him. He said he doesn’t believe in blood supremacy. Maybe I can convince him. Apologize, beg, do whatever I need to do.”

“Sirius,” Remus says softly. “That’s not gonna be necessary.”

“It might. And if it is, I will.”

“I agree,” Effie says suddenly. “I think we need to find Regulus.”

Remus groans, dropping his head into his hands. There are a lot of secrets swirling around this room, and they’re closer to the surface than ever. Everything, he guesses, is about to go to shit.

---

 

Regulus wakes to the soft light of the morning sun streaming through his window and onto his face. He blinks slowly, trying to focus his vision. He’s pressed against something warm, and for a minute that drowns out everything else.

Then it doesn’t, and he pushes himself back. James is fast asleep, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he breathes. He’s got Regulus tucked to his chest, arms wrapped around him protectively. 

Regulus stares at him, head reeling. What- what the fuck?

Memories drift back to him in pieces. Last night- what happened? He was crying. And James had woken up, crawled into his bed like it was nothing, and pulled him into his chest. And Regulus…

Regulus had let him.

Why?

Why was he crying?

He makes a sound as the memory hits him like a punch to the gut. Evan. Evan, Evan, Evan-  

Regulus grabs James’s shirt and pulls himself back in, smothering himself in his chest, every inch of him trembling. He doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t care what James knows or doesn’t, doesn’t care if this can only end badly. He just needs him, desperately, all-consumingly. 

He’d left Evan on the beach.

He shouldn’t have done that. 

Maybe Barty got him. Maybe Barty came back, maybe he washed the blood out of Evan’s hair and took him somewhere better. 

Somehow, Regulus doubts it.

And then Regulus had essentially kidnapped James. Or, co-kidnapped James. They’d materialized in front of Grimmauld place, and Regulus’s brain switched off. After that he was moving on autopilot, mind buzzing as he did everything he could think of to protect him. It wasn’t until they got to his room that everything came rushing back.

And now he has two days to figure out how to get James out of being tortured and killed.

It’s fine. 

He gives himself five more seconds in James’s arms, counting down silently. He breathes in his scent and tries to memorize the feeling of James’s body on his. 

When his time’s up he pushes back, carefully extracting himself and standing up. His chest aches. He rubs it absentmindedly, pulling on some clothes and trying desperately not to think.

When he leaves, he sends a locking spell at the door. He feels a little bad, but he really can’t have James wandering around.

His mother’s waiting for him in the kitchen. 

“Good morning.”

Regulus nods at her, silently taking a seat at the table.

“Hungry?”

He shakes his head.

She puts her hands on the table, sighing. “Regulus, please. Be a little more responsive. We have a lot to discuss.” 

“Do we.”

“The Potter boy. How did last night go?”

“Fine.” 

“You took his wand?”

“Yes.” 

“And there are no sharp objects in the room? Maybe we should put him in the guest bedroom.” 

“So he can escape when we aren't watching? He needs to be monitored.”

She watches him carefully. There’s a pause. “I heard about Rosier.”

Regulus closes his eyes. “Yes.”

“It’s a shame. If he hadn’t been so brazenly-”

“Maman, please.”

She presses her lips together, staring at him with something almost resembling pity. “I don’t think I need to tell you not to make the same mistakes.”

“Where’s Snape?”

“I believe he went home. He’s not staying here anymore since you finished your potions.”

Regulus rises quickly, grabbing some fruit from the counter and slipping it into his pocket. “I’m going to go talk to Potter. I’ll be back later.” 

He leaves his mother in the kitchen and climbs the stairs, knocking once before slipping into his room. James sits on the edge of the bed, bathed in sunlight, sliding his glasses on. He looks up as Regulus comes in, eyes widening. “Fuck.” 

“Morning.”

“I was hoping it was just a bad dream.”

Regulus gives him a look, sinking into his chair. “You woke up in my room, in my bed.”

James sighs. “True. How’d that happen, by the way? I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” James says quickly, and Regulus rolls his eyes. It’s too early for this.

He reaches into his pocket and hands James the fruit he stole from the kitchen. “Breakfast. Enjoy.”

James takes it and bites down without hesitance, looking up as he chews. “Thank you. Did you- I mean, I assume you already ate?”

Regulus glances away. “I’m not hungry.”

James’s eyes soften in that particularly horrible way. “You should eat.”

“ You should be focusing a bit more on your current predicament.” 

“Right. About that. Did you lock me in?”

Regulus shrugs. “I did what I had to do.”

“I feel like you didn’t have to do that.”

“You would’ve left.”

“No,” James says indignantly.

Regulus narrows his eyes. “Then how’d you know the door was locked?”

“...I was just testing it.”

“Mhm.”

They stare at each other, and after a moment James winces. He touches his hand to his forehead lightly, just once, before flopping back on the bed. “So.”

“So.”

“Am I really being held hostage?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“That’s because I’m substantially kinder than the rest of my family.”

“Not Sirius,” James mumbles. “I miss him.”

“You just saw him, literally yesterday.”

James raises his head to look at him. “Yeah, but that was in the middle of a battle. That hardly counts.”

At the mention of the battle Regulus looks down, focusing on the carpet. He wants his chest to stop hurting. He wants James to hug him again. He wants to see Evan. 

He wants a lot of things. 

“You’re going to have to stay here while I figure something out,” Regulus says eventually. “I- you can’t leave this room.”

“Can I have my wand?”

“No.”

“Can I take a piss?”

“...Yes.” Regulus sighs. He didn't think this through. “Come with me.”

He opens the door and leads James down the hall to the toilet. “Go on, then.”

James winks and shuts the door behind him.

Regulus leans against the wall opposite, running his hands through his hair and contemplating his situation. He huffs a little laugh. He has to hold his ex, the boy he loved and then obliviated, hostage in his room for two days while he tries to figure out how to save him? While grieving the loss of his best friend? Fine.

James pops his head out a second later. “I need to shower.”

Regulus stares at him. “You’re going to go out through the window.”

“...no.”

He absolutely was.

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

James blinks at him with those wide chocolate eyes. “I have an idea.”

And that’s how Regulus ends up sitting inside the bathroom, head falling back against the door, while James showers. He’d resolutely shut his eyes when James changed out of his clothes, desperately ignoring his comments.

“Uh- so- I need to tell Remus and Sirius I’m alright. Also Mum.” James calls from behind the curtain.

Regulus sighs. The worst bit is he’s right. “I know.” 

“They probably think I’m dead.”

“You might as well be,” Regulus mutters.

There’s a pause as the sound of rushing water fills the space. “...Really?” James asks after a minute.

“Not if I can help it.”

“Ah, are we going to talk about that yet?”

“No.”

“Lovely.”

“Almost done?”

“Might go quicker if I had some help. Care to join?”

Regulus throws a bar of soap at the curtain, relishing in the resulting yelp. “Stop.”

“Towel?”

Regulus hands one in, averting his gaze when James steps out with it wrapped around his waist. He makes his way to his feet, fully intending to leave, when James says “Reg?”

Regulus turns, sighing internally. “What?”

“I- Uh. I don’t know where I put my glasses.”

Regulus digs into his pocket and holds them out. He’d taken them as collateral, just an extra layer of precaution. James reaches out to grab them and Regulus becomes suddenly aware of their overwhelming proximity. The towel is slung low around James’s hips, showing off his torso and all its ridges for the world to see. Swallowing carefully, Regulus remembers when James walked into the wrong changing room at school and saw him shirtless and fresh out of the shower. He’s starting to think he understands why James couldn’t string a single sentence together. 

The universe really must hate him.

“We need- go.” Regulus steps to the side and gestures vaguely at the door, pointedly ignoring James’s bemused smirk.

Once they’re back in the room, James yanks on some clothes and plops back on the bed. “Can we talk now?”

“About?”

“You. Us. This.”

Regulus falls into his chair, crossing his legs and casting a silencing charm around his room. Everything in him crawls with dread. He’ll tell James anything he asks, of course. They’ll both be blamed for the repercussions. “Fine.” 

 

---

 

James smiles, stomach turning over with anticipation. He stares at Regulus, gaze piercing. Finally, he thinks. You’re letting me figure you out. “So.”

Regulus arches a brow. “So.”

“Why did you save me? Before the beach and last night?”

“I had my reasons.”

“I thought we were going to talk.”

Regulus heaves a bitter sigh, as if this conversation is physically paining him. “We are.”

“What about earlier, in the alley? You let Remus speak to you. And you told Sirius you don’t support Voldemort, but everything you do points to the contrary.”

“It’s …complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it for me.” James all but begs. “Explain. Tell me. I obviously have the time.”

“Honestly, have you not put it together yet?” Regulus sits forward, staring at him intently. James shifts under the weight of his gaze. “I told you about the beach. I’ve desperately avoided hurting you. I just saved your arse, like, three times over. I’m a traitor, James. I’m actively working against the Dark Lord. I’m a Death Eater in name, nothing more.”

James’s head swims with questions and then overwhelming relief. “Then… then why not join the Order? Why not take Sirius up on his offer?”

Regulus scoffs, fingers digging into his knees. “My brother has never once known what he’s talking about. And the Order-” Regulus cuts himself off, expression twisted into a simmering fury. “The Order can go fuck themselves.” 

James stares at him blankly. “But… but I saw you attack Peter.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “He’s the spy.”

“What?”

“Merlin, you really are kept in the dark. There’s a spy in the order, someone reporting to Voldemort.”

James raises his brows. “And you think it’s Peter?”

Regulus nods, looking so tired, curls falling in front of his eyes. James resists the urge to reach out and brush them aside. “I know it’s Peter. He revealed himself to me, thinking we were on the same side. It just… it just took a while for me to believe him.” 

James snorts then, chuckling at first and then full out laughing when Regulus’s expression doesn’t change. “Peter? Wormtail? Not a chance.”

“He gave me the spell Remus made to get out of the lockdowns.”

James’s stomach drops out. No one was supposed to know about that. How the fuck did Regulus find out? “Who told you about that?”

“I just said. Peter.”

“No. He wouldn't've. So who-”

“James. He gave me the spell, but I obviously assumed it was a trap and didn’t use it. I gave it to Barty, and he used it yesterday to get out of a lockdown to come to the beach. It’s how he and- it’s-”

Regulus stops talking, staring at the ground. James can see his knuckles turn white where he’s balled his hands into fists. James kicks his foot out, letting his leg rest next to Regulus, calves brushing. It’s not much, but it’s all he can offer. The need to comfort him, to make him feel better, comes to him instinctually. It makes his head spin.

“We can come back to this,” He says softly. “There’s time.”

Regulus, not looking at him, nods. 

“You’re really a traitor?”

Regulus smiles, a little sad. “Yeah. I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out. I can’t believe I had to straight up tell you.”

“I just- I didn't know where you stood before. You’d never said anything explicitly, and you were still fighting for Voldemort, so…”

“I have a persona to maintain,” Regulus shrugs. “It's a lot easier to topple a kingdom from inside the palace.” 

“So you’re a spy,” James says, watching him from the bed. This made everything so much easier. At least half of the guilt that’s been weighing him down evaporates. “Sexy.”

Regulus huffs a quiet laugh and James counts it as a victory. “Not a spy. I just have a vendetta I need to fulfill.” 

“So what's the plan then, Mr. traitor? How are we getting out of here?”

Regulus gives him a look. “ You . You are getting out of here… somehow. I’m still working on that.”

“Won’t you come with me?”

Regulus’s eyes soften. “You already asked me that once.”

“At school,” James remembers.

Regulus nods. “My answer’s the same.”

“But why?”

“I told you. It’s too late. I know too much to be let go without a fight and it helps to have the cover I do now.”

James knows he pulls a face, but he can’t help it. “I don’t like that answer.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I forgot the world is supposed to bend to your will.”

“Absolutely it is.” James nods. “I- is it your mother?”

Regulus huffs a small laugh. “No. She… She’s manageable. So’s Orion. They aren’t the issue anymore. When I was younger the threat they posed seemed much larger.”

James pauses, a thought that’s been plaguing him coming back suddenly and with a vengeance. “Wait- is- did anyone get injured? Is everyone okay? I didn’t think the fight might’ve continued after we left.”

The soft look in Regulus’s eyes dissipates. “I don’t know. I left when you did. We’ve been together ever since.”

“But- if people died-” There’s a sharp edge of panic digging into James’s stomach. 

“Of course people died,” Regulus snaps. “People always die.”

“But the Order-”

Regulus’s expression sours. “Because of course those are the only lives that matter.”

And James gets his point. Really, he does, but- “Sirius, Remus-”

“I have no idea, Potter.” Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t help you.”

James stares at him, coming back to himself a bit. Potter. Regulus hasn’t called him that in a long time. “I need to know,” He whispers, stubborn. 

Regulus holds his gaze for a long moment. “Yeah. You do, don’t you.” He sighs, standing up from his chair and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m going to talk to Lupin.”

“Remus?”

“I’m not very well traveling to Wales, so, yes, Remus. Who I’m mad at right now, by the way.” 

James scrambles to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to Godric’s hollow?”

Regulus blinks. “I wasn’t, but thanks for telling me where he’s staying.”

“I’d tell you anything,” James says honestly. Now that he knows Regulus is on his side, his filter’s gone completely. Not that he necessarily had one in the first place, but still. 

Regulus frowns at him distantly, eyes clouding with something complicated. James swallows against the need to fill the sudden silence. “He’s going to get a flat soon, but he’s living with us until he does.”

“Us being?”

“Me, mum and Sirius.”

Regulus nods slowly. “Right.”

“Tell Sirius I love him. And Moony too. And that I’ll be back soon.”

“Not a chance,” Regulus says.

“Can I come with you?”

Regulus stares at him.

“Sorry.” James says quickly.

“I’m locking you in here, just for that.”

“What if I have to piss?”

Regulus grabs his coat and opens the door. “Hold it. I’ll be back. Just- sit tight and don’t go anywhere.”

James leans back on the bed and gives him his flashiest grin. “I’ll be waiting.”

Regulus’s lips twitch into a faint smile as he shuts the door behind him. For the first time in two days, James starts to feel the stirrings of hope. 

 

---

 

When Remus first feels the distortion in the wards protecting Godric’s Hollow, he grabs his wand instantly. He calls Sirius to the living room, Effie being out on errands, and peeks through the window.

The last thing he expects to see is Regulus Black standing in front of the house, staring at it with a rather unimpressed look on his face. “What the fuck?” He hisses.

“What?” Sirius asks, coming up to hover over his shoulder. And then: “Shit.”

Immediately Sirius pushes past him and throws open the door, crossing his arms and marching down the walk. “Regulus!”

Regulus looks up, taking a step back as Remus quickly follows Sirius and shuts the door behind them. “Oh, lovely.” 

Sirius shoves Regulus hard in the chest, sending him stumbling. He has his wand out in the next second, pointed at the younger Black’s neck. “What the fuck did you do to him,” His voice turns cold, icy and cruel in a way it only is when it comes to James Potter. 

Regulus narrows his eyes, going for his wand. Remus steps in, grabbing Sirius’s arm and pushing him back. “Pads- just- wait. Please.”

“He’s bloody fine,” Regulus spits. “If you’d let me talk-”

“Did you let him talk before you kidnapped him?”

“Kidnapped is a harsh word, he’s just being held-”

“Held my ass.”

“-in a secure place. I’m trying to tell you.”

“Stop.” Remus says, raising his voice a little and forcefully shoving his way between the two brothers. “Regulus, is James okay?”

Regulus breathes out harshly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s fine.”

“Good. Why are you here?”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “...to talk.”

Sirius turns to stare at Remus. “You don’t actually think we should hear him out?”

“He has the power right now,” Remus hisses. “He has James. He knows where and how he is. We can’t risk that.”

“We need to at least call Dumbledore.”

“Absolutely not,” Regulus chimes in. “I’ll leave immediately. Maybe kill James while I’m at it.”

And Sirius, who doesn’t know their history, glowers and takes a half step towards him. Remus rolls his eyes and squeezes Sirius’s arm. “He’s joking.”

“How do we know that?” Sirius glances up at him. “We have no reason to trust him.”

Regulus squints at him. “What choice do you have?”

“Let's hear him out,” Remus murmurs. 

“Here?” Regulus asks, glancing around.

“No. Let’s go inside.”

Sirius looks up, eyes wide. “We’re going to let him past the wards?”

“For now,” Remus nods. “For Prongs.”

“Fine.”

Once inside, Regulus looks around the living room carefully. There’s an unidentifiable expression on his face, clouding as he takes in his surroundings. “Sit.” Remus gestures vaguely to an armchair, sinking into the couch opposite. Sirius perches on the arm of the couch, wrapping his arms around himself. Regulus takes a few careful steps and sits on the very edge of the armchair, watching them both suspiciously. 

“So?” Sirius demands.

Regulus blinks quickly. “Potter is fine.”

“Fine?”

“Alive. Uninjured, for the most part.”

Remus pauses. “For the most part? Expand.”

Regulus shrugs uncomfortably. “He’s… struggling, obviously. And there was a crucio, but just one. He’s alright.”

“A crucio?” Sirius and Remus ask at the same time, equally incredulous. 

“He’s fine,” Regulus says again. His eyes find Remus’s. “I stopped it.”

“Why are you here?” Sirius asks.

Regulus heaves a deep sigh, running a hand over his face. “I need you to break James out.”

“What?”

“I can’t very well let him go, and he can’t escape, so I need you two to come and get him. Forcefully.”

Sirius stares at his brother. “You’re helping us?”

Regulus says nothing, face blank. 

“Why?”

Remus wonders how he’s planning on getting out of this.

“If I tell you how to get James, I have a condition. You can’t ask me anything. I can’t… we aren’t there yet.”

Remus stares at him. “Really?”

“Really. I have an agenda here, but it isn’t yours.”

“I- just- whose side are you on?” Sirius asks, voice tearing slightly.

“That's a question.” Regulus says, shifting slightly. “No questions.”

“That’s so unfair.”

“I don’t care. I have James. You have to listen to me.”

Remus leans forward. “And when you says you have James-”

Regulus sighs. “I mean that he’s been entrusted into my care and is currently trapped in my room.”

“Ah.” Remus says, eyeing him. How convenient. Regulus must be loving this.

“What, so you two are just… hanging out?” Sirius asks incredulously.

“We’re not exactly civil. He’s actually quite the pain in the arse.” Regulus says, crossing his arms.

“I’ll bet,” Remus mutters, eyes narrowed. Regulus glares.

“Why the fuck are you helping us?” Sirius interrupts. 

“I told you-”

“No questions, sure, but you have to understand this is so unbelievably frustrating.”

Regulus just shrugs, looking around. “Where’s Euphemia?”

“Out,” Remus says, leaning forward. “How’d you convince them to let you take James?”

“The Dark Lord is away on business for two days. I’m… holding on to him till he returns.”

“What, to kill him? Why do they need the Dark Lord for that? Why did they take him alive anyway?” Sirius slides off the armrest onto the couch, shoving Remus over. 

“Not to kill him. Not at first. They think, because of Euphemia’s and Fleamont's role in the Order, he’ll know a lot. They want to search his mind. Which is ironic, because he doesn’t seem to know very much at all.”

Who’s fault is that ? Remus chokes back. 

“Dumbledore hasn’t been telling him much recently,” Sirius relents. “He’s been… spacy. Off. Everything is on a need to know basis, and James just… doesn’t need to know. Which I guess is a good thing, in this circumstance. 

“Well, good is a bit of an exaggeration.” Regulus looks tired, and way too stressed. Remus remembers him standing over Rosier’s body in the sea, and presses his lips together. It's only been one night. “I’m sure he knows too much, either way.”

Remus stares at him, suddenly indignant. “You’re just protecting your own arse, aren’t you?” 

Regulus’s gaze flicks to his. “What?”

“You’re worried if they go looking through his head they’ll find something you don’t want them to.”

Regulus sits forward all of a sudden, and Remus can see the fear in his eyes. “I- sure. Yeah. I’m worried they’ll see how I helped him. Also that I told him about the beach.” 

“About that-” Sirius interjects, but cuts himself off when Regulus sends him a particularly nasty glare. 

“Regardless of my motivations, you need to get him out. I obviously can’t do it. And rest assured, he may be alive now, but as soon as the Dark Lord’s done with him that’ll be a different story.” 

Remus itches to call for Dumbledore, but Regulus already ruled that out, so… “Can we at least ask Moody? He’ll have ideas.” 

Regulus goes silent, eyes hard. “He’s alive, then?”

“Yeah,” Remus says cautiously, taken aback by the anger in his gaze. “Should he not be?”

“No. No he shouldn’t.”

“So can we ask him?”

“I’ll kill him the second I see him,” Regulus says cooly. “So it’s really your call.” 

“No Moody then,” Remus relents. 

“Probably for the best.” 

“So do you have a plan?” Sirius interrupts.

“No.” Regulus looks back to his brother. “That’s your job. I’m just here to tell you he’s alive and in need of rescuing. I don’t know what time the Dark Lord will be back- maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after- but either way, there’s a time limit.”

“What are you suggesting? You think we should just appear in the living room of Number Twelve and ask Walburga to hand him over?”

“I don’t know.” Regulus rubs his forehead. “I don’t think I should know. That's up to you. If I see you- or if something happens- I’ll go with it. I want him out just as much as you do.” 

“Well,” Sirius argues. “As much is a bit of a stretch.” 

Regulus snorts. Sirius shifts forward. “Need I remind you,” he says, “you kidnapped him. We’re the one’s trying to get him back.” 

“What's the point? You never tell him anything anyways.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t pretend to know him.” 

Regulus’s eyes flash and Remus decides to step in. “Listen. We’re his friends. Of course we’re going to do anything we need to get them back.” 

“Some friends,” Regulus mutters. 

Remus pauses. “What’re you talking about?”

“I told you the Dark Lord was looking for him specifically, and you still let him fight.” 

Sirius blinks. “You never said that.”

“Really?” Regulus says, staring at Remus icily. “I could’ve sworn I mentioned it.”

Remus swallows. Guilt curls itself around his stomach, squeezing tight. “I… he was insistent.” 

Sirius looks between them. “He told you? ” 

“It was… a long time ago.”

“Not too long that you forgot, right?” Regulus says dryly. 

“James was always going to fight,” Remus denies, though he knows he’s deflecting. There are only so many excuses he can give.  

“Oh, and he’s never been a bit stubborn before.” 

“Let’s focus,” Sirius interrupts.

Regulus looks back to him. “Fine. Do you… have any questions?”

“How’s James doing emotionally? Has he talked about me?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Yes. You two are so painfully codependent.” 

“Hardly.”

Regulus crosses his arms. “Potter wanted me to ask- is everyone okay?”

Remus clears his throat. “Alania Dogberry was killed, but we didn’t know her. She was working out of Scotland. Also Bert Farnie, though I’ve only met him once or twice. And…” he takes a breath.

“The werewolves that were turned back… two of them were killed.” 

“By Death Eater scum.” Sirius mutters.

Regulus zeros in on him. “Death Eaters? But the werewolves were on the Dark Lord’s side.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius grits. “They’d cut down anyone that doesn’t serve them.”

“As if the Order is against killing,” Regulus shoots back, rising from his seat. "I'm going home."

Sirius rises too, continuing. “If they’re being actively attacked, yes, members of the Order aren’t against defending themselves-”

“With Avadas?”

Sirius takes a step forward and Regulus stands up straighter, eyes glinting. “Hardly.”

“Might wanna let Moody in on that,” Regulus hisses.

“Oh, so you’re talking about Rosier then.”

“Don’t say his name.”

“He took his eye out-” 

“-something I imagine he very much deserved. Evan isn’t- Evan wasn’t one to injure without cause.”

Sirius scoffs. “He was a fucking Death Eater. He had the Mark. He obviously wasn’t opposed to pain.”

“You don’t understand-”

“I understand he was attacking Moody when he died. I understand Moody did what he had to.”

“He was standing still,” Regulus hisses. “He was injured. He was obviously done. When I saw him he was about to pass out-” 

“He was a threat.”

“He was hurt.”

Remus shifts uncomfortably when Sirius moves even closer. Should he stop this? Could he? “He was still holding his wand.” Sirius grits.

“Moody could’ve stunned him. He could have restricted him. No one had to be killed.”  

“Like you’re so against death.”

Regulus’s face is sharp, cold compared to Sirius’s burning one. Fire and ice. “Evan was cut down unnecessarily, sides be damned. He didn’t deserve to die.”

Sirius laughs, and even to Remus it sounds cruel. “Oh, come off it. He was a bad fighter and a worse person. Don’t idolize him just because he’s dead. He made his choice.” 

Regulus’s face shuts down completely and Remus knows the look of danger when he sees it. He sneaks a hand into his pocket, ready to go for his wand if he needs to. Regulus stares at his brother, not moving a muscle. When he speaks, his voice comes out so low Remus almost doesn’t hear it. “He was standing still.” 

Sirius takes a step back. “Reg-”

And then Regulus turns and shoves past them, throwing open the door and stalking down the front path to the street. He disappears as soon as he’s past the wards, disappearing into space. 

Neither Remus or Sirius move for a moment, staring at the space he left behind on the sidewalk. Then Sirius seems to deflate next to him, letting out a long breath. “Shit.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Remus says softly. 

“I know.”

“He… we were getting somewhere.”

“I know.” Sirius turns, pressing his face into Remus’s shoulder. “He just… he makes me so angry.”

“And you think attacking his recently dead best friend was the way to express that?”

Sirius lets out a small groan. “I don’t know. No. I- he has James. I just…” 

“And he was telling us about it. He was being cooperative and helpful.”

"I shouldn't- yeah. That was not the right thing to do." 

"Maybe not."

“No chance he’ll come back?” 

Remus sighs, reaching up to rest his hand on the back of Sirius’s head. “I think that bridge may have burned. But it’s alright. We know a lot more now than we did earlier. We know James is alive, we know he’s under Regulus’s care. We know we have two days. We know Regulus is on our side, at least concerning this.”

We know he’d die before he lets James get hurt, Remus thinks but doesn’t say. 

“We just have to figure out how to get him out.” Sirius mutters. Remus nods. “We will. Let's just be grateful he’s still breathing.” 

“Why was he here?” Sirius whispers.

Remus ducks his head, and says nothing. He’s not sure, at this point, if it really matters if Sirius knows. It’s been so long. He has a sinking feeling he’ll figure it out soon enough. And yet, there’s an itching cloying little voice in the back of his mind that says it’s not his secret to tell. It’s James’s. And since James can’t, it’s Regulus’s. He wraps his arms around Sirius and says “I think Regulus is a bit more complicated than we’re giving him credit for.” 

“I thought…” Sirius sighs. “I thought he did care, maybe. He visited Fleamont’s grave. He told James about the beach. He came here to help James.”
Before Sirius can find the common denominator between those things Remus clears his throat. “You said he told you he doesn’t support Voldemort. Maybe he’s finally taking action.”

“Why couldn’t he have taken action before? When it mattered?”

“It matters, Sirius. It matters a lot. He’s trying to save James.”

“I guess I meant- why-” Sirius shakes his head, pressing it harder against his shoulder. “Why now?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

Sirius pulls back, leaning against the wall behind him and watching Remus cooly. “We’re calling Dumbledore, aren’t we.”

Remus smiles. “Right after Effie.”

 

---

 

Regulus doesn’t look at anyone as he moves through his house, slipping up the stairs and unlocking the door to his room quickly. He pushes it open, pausing in the threshold. James is asleep on the bed, above the covers. His glasses are still on, slightly crooked on his nose.

Regulus enters quietly, feeling at least some of the anger his brother left with him slip away. 

He leans down, gently pulling James’s glasses off and brushing his hair back away from his forehead. He sets the glasses down on the side table, turning back to watch James sleep for a minute. There’s a small frown pinching his brows, and before he can help himself, Regulus smooths it over with a thumb. There’s no harm, right? Not when James is unconscious. He leans down, pressing his lips to James's forehead lightly before pulling back and finally moving away. 

He sits on the edge of the bed just past James’s feet, staring at the opposite wall and trying to regulate himself. He shouldn’t have rushed into that conversation with Lupin and his brother. Remus he can handle. He’s logical, and Regulus sometimes feels as if they have a certain understanding of each other. Sirius… Sirius is a different story. Regulus has no idea how they lasted so long before blowing up at each other. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to get under his skin. But Evan? 

Really, Sirius?

Regulus draws his knees to his chest and tips his head into them, biting his lip through the fresh pang of pain that shoots through him. He’s been running on adrenaline since the beach, every inch of him thrumming with false energy. Aside from that embarrassing moment last night, he hasn’t even let himself feel Evan’s loss. 

Not yet, he tells himself. James is still here. James is still curled up in his bed, in danger and restless. He still has to get him out. 

Well. That part is at least somewhat Remus and Sirius’s job. He told them what he could and hoped they’d figure something out. His position among the ranks is too good to risk- he can’t just let James go without at least some appearance of outside interference. 

Shit . 

He’d forgotten to tell Remus about Peter. 

He’ll blame Sirius. 

James shifts further down on the bed, making a small sleepy sound as he wakes up. “Reg?”

“Thought you were gonna sleep forever,” Regulus mutters, not looking at him. It still hurts too much, and this situation is confusing enough as it is. 

“You were gone, what else was I supposed to do?” James sits up, propping himself up on his hands. “You saw Remus? And Sirius?” 

“Unfortunately.”

“How are they? Is everyone okay?”

Regulus focuses straight ahead. “Yeah.” He lets out a breath. “Yeah, everyone’s just fine.” 

“You look mad.”

“Sirius just- I hate him.” 

“You don’t.”

Regulus looks at him. “Yes, I do. You didn’t hear what he said.”

“What did he say?” James scooches across the bed towards him.

“Just-” Regulus really should keep up the cold and calculating exterior. James should be given zero invitations to get close to him- especially after last night. But he’s never been any good at keeping secrets from him, and besides. The world’s already falling apart anyway. “Just something about Evan.”

“Oh Sirius,” James says softly, eyes turning gentle and sad.

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“I hate him.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Regulus says, because really. James doesn’t. Not anymore. 

James furrows his brows and reaches out, tucking Regulus’s hair behind his ear, thumb grazing his cheek. Regulus can’t help himself; he shudders, shoulders shaking as he resists the urge to lean into the touch. “What are you doing, James?” He forces himself to ask. 

James frowns, lips parting slightly. His eyes are slightly clouded, unfocused yet searching. “I don’t… know.” And then: “My head hurts.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I bet it does. It’s fine. Just. Stay silent. I’m going to figure something out.” Regulus slips off the bed before he does something he’ll regret, sliding into his chair by the desk and pulling out a notebook. 

He jots some notes down about the ring, wondering what the other three horcruxes could possibly be. There’s still a lot he doesn’t know. Too much, perhaps. He needs to talk to Snape. 

 

---

 

James sits on the bed against the headboard, staring at Regulus’s turned back. “Can I have my wand at least?” 

“No.”

James rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to attack you. I just want- I just want to know where it is.” 

“I have it. It’s safe.” Regulus still doesn’t look at him, scribbling in his little notebook. 

“Come on Reg,” James pleads, trying for familiarity. Regulus goes stiff at the nickname, though James doesn’t understand why. 

“What?”

“It doesn’t have to be this whole captor-captee situation here. We can be civil, can’t we?”

“I think not.”

“I already said- I’m not gonna do anything. You said you wouldn’t do anything. You’re actively trying to rescue me. You’re Sirius’s brother, and besides, at school we were-“

Regulus turns to look at him then, grey eyes glinting. James finds himself unable to look away. “We were what?” Regulus asks after a moment. “Exactly what were we, Potter?” 

“We were…” but again, James finds himself trailing off. The heaviness that’s been haunting his chest for the past few months comes back with a vengeance, pressing against his throat. Really, what was he going to say? They were mates? But they weren’t, were they. So what…

Thinking is becoming difficult and Regulus is still watching him with those eyes . Something thick and cloudy is starting to take over his head, thoughts becoming muddled and weighed down. 

“Potter?” Regulus’s brows pinch in a hauntingly familiar way and James lets out a breath because really - what was he going to say? 

Responding has gone out the window because he can’t think enough to get real words out. He can’t push past whatever is doing this to him, stealing his breath and making it hard to form a single thought. It’s thick and disgusting and James hates the way it feels, bending over slightly on the bed. 

He hears a chair move distantly but all he can do is clutch his head in his hands, trying to expel the muddy fog that’s taken over. What was he saying? What was he talking about? His breaths start to come in short gasps.

What’s happening to him?

Why does he feel like he’s losing his mind?

There’s a weight on the bed and then hands are pulling his wrists with shocking gentleness. The touch is so familiar that James leans into it instinctively, letting out a soft whine.

“James,” a voice says, and instantly the muddy feeling gets worse. “James, breathe.”

James. 

James.

James, mon soleil. 

James, my love. 

What? 

Fuck.

James can’t- he can’t remember - 

“Shit.” The hands on his wrists are suddenly gone as Regulus stands up. “Potter.” His voice stays cold, impersonal. “Potter, stop that. Get yourself together.”

And for some reason, that helps. “Keep-“ James cuts himself off, unable to form words. It doesn’t matter- Regulus seems to understand. 

“This is ridiculous,” he says firmly. 

James sucks in a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t- normally it’s not that bad.”

“That happens often?”

James closes his eyes, regulating his insides carefully. “Sometimes. Usually I can sort it out after a moment. For some reason you… you make it much worse.” 

Regulus stares at him for a moment, and James wishes he could read those eyes. It feels like a language he used to be fluent in- whispers of emotion floating out at him, nothing substantial enough to piece together. 

Regulus pulls back slowly, and despite the confusion he brings, James misses him immediately. “Wait-”

Regulus pauses. “What?”

“I want- I need you to-” He leans forward, shifting till he’s on the end of the bed. He has no idea what he’s doing, just that he needs to be closer to Regulus.

Regulus’s eyes go wide as his lips part and James thinks yes , he’s getting somewhere, because that isn’t dislike in Regulus’s eyes but something else entirely, something inviting and familiar that sends his head spinning again. 

And then Regulus reaches down and rips up his sleeve and ah. There it is. The Dark Mark, bold and clear as anything on his pale skin. James flinches back instinctually, shutting his eyes against the sight.

“No, Potter, look.” Regulus commands, stepping closer. James forces his eyes open, wincing as the mark almost seems to grow darker right in front of him. “I can’t get this off,” Regulus hisses.

“There’s no spell that can undo it. I can’t cut it off, either, or I’ll bleed out instantly. So this is part of me now. This and all it represents. I may be a traitor, but I don’t regret this. I did what I had to do. I stayed here voluntarily. I let Sirius leave. I’m a Black, through and through. Don’t think that just because my allegiance may be different than what you thought that I’m suddenly someone worth knowing.” he takes a shuddering breath. “You should hate me. Even if I'm on your side, you should hate me, because you should hate this, and it’s a part of me.” 

“I…” James swallows, insides twisting. He thinks he might be sick.

“You know you have to agree to get the mark, right? It has to be consensual. And I made that choice.”

“Because you had to,” James says, voice scratchy.

“So would you have done it?” Regulus asks, eyes sharp and searching. “If you were in my position, would you support him and pledge your allegiance like this? I’m bound to him forever now.”

“No,” James manages, because it's the truth. “No. I would’ve died first.”

Regulus’s eyes dim slightly. “Yeah. Exactly. So for all your useless… flirting, James, just remember who I am and what I represent. I have the mark. I’ll always have the mark. This is me.”

James moves back and Regulus nods decisively. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Reg-”

“I’m going to talk to my cousin. Don’t touch anything.”

And with that, Regulus shoves past the bed and out the door, locking it after him. 

 

---

 

Regulus tries to clear his head as he moves downstairs, adjusting his shirt and sucking in a few deep breaths. He hopes that was enough to stop James, at least for now. 

He finds his mother in his father's study, sitting behind her desk and adjusting papers. She looks up when he enters. “Regulus.”

“Maman.” He steps in. “Do you know where Bella is?”

“She’s in the spare room, I believe. After your friend Snape left, she took up temporary residence.”

“That’s why she came back here after the fight,” Regulus realizes softly. 

“Mhm.” she glances up. “How’s Potter?”

“Fine.” He pauses. “Asleep.” 

“Did you curse him?”

“...yes.” Best to have his mother thinking he’s keeping James subdued. 

“Good. The Dark Lord is set to return around noon tomorrow.” 

Regulus closes his eyes briefly. “Good to know.” 

He turns and exits before she gets the chance to reply, heading up the stairs past his room to the next floor, where he knocks on the guest bedroom door. It slams open magically, revealing Bellatrix laying on the bed.

“Come in. Oh, Reg.”

Regulus shuts the door quietly behind him, eyeing her warily. “I had a question.”

“Well?”

“Tomorrow, when the Dark Lord examines Potter, will it be him casting the ligilimens?”

Bellatrix shrugs, sitting up. “I have no idea. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“And then he’ll be killed, yes?”

“If all goes well.” 

Regulus nods, chewing his lip and looking down. “Okay.” 

“Oh, your friend stopped by earlier. I sent him away.”

“Who?”

“Crouch.”

Regulus takes a few steps forward, heart clenching. “What? He was here?”

Bella shrugs. “I sent him away. He looked mad.”

“I-” Regulus swallows. “You should’ve let him see me. I would’ve liked to talk to him.”

“Was it about that Rosier kid?”

Regulus grits his teeth. People really need to stop bringing up Evan. “Potentially.”

Bella looks him over, eyes gleaming. “I don’t see the big deal.”

“He was his friend. He was- we were close.”

“Weak, if you ask me.”

“...What?”

“He died from an Avada. You know how avoidable those are?”

“He was injured.”

“Exactly.” Bella stands, stretching her arms above her head. “He shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

“Moody had used diffindos by the looks of it,” Regulus says, trying not to lose his composure. 

“Avoidable,” Bellatrix says again. 

“Not if you’re fighting.”

“Lets see,” Bella says, and before Regulus can react she has her wand out, pointed directly at him. He grabs his own just in time, throwing up a shielding charm that her white spell glances off, slicing into the wallpaper.

“Are you mental?” He spits, scrambling backwards. “Inside?”

She tips her head. “Wallpaper can be repaired. I’m experimenting.” 

“On me ?”

“Who else?” She shoots another curse and Regulus scrambles to the door. “Stop running!”

Regulus grabs the handle and twists it just as she sends another curse. This one, unfortunately, hits its mark. A slice tears through Regulus’s side, sending a rush of pain through him so strong all his muscles turn to jelly for a moment. And then adrenaline kicks in and he shoves the door open, stumbling away from her room. 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, pressing a hand to the wound and moving down the hallway. Why was everyone in his family literally batshit crazy?

“Come back!” Bella calls from her door. Regulus just flips her off and starts back towards his room, ignoring the small growing stain on his shirt. 

He finally gets to his door, shoving it open and pushing through, collapsing against it. “Shit,” he mumbles, sinking to the floor. 

“What the fuck?”

Regulus looks up as James scrambles towards him, sinking down, eyes wide. “What the fuck happened?”

“My cousin.”

“You were gone for like two seconds!”

“Yes, well.” Regulus grits his teeth. “She happens to be clinically insane. This is why I do my best to avoid conversations with her.”

“This is so fucked up,” James says, but he looks so worried, and Regulus melts a little.

“It’s not bad. Not deep at all. Don’t worry. She wouldn’t do anything that would actually hurt me.” Lie. “Look.” he lifts his shirt, showing James the wound. He’s right. It’s not deep. That doesn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch.

“I need… let me help you,” James says suddenly. “I need to help you.”

“Knock yourself out,” Regulus says, too tired to protest, even if he should. 

James helps him slide his shirt the rest of the way off, examining the wound. “I need your wand.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please, Reg, you need magic right now.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but hands it to him anyway, praying James stays a Gryffindor. James casts a cleaning charm, wiping the rest of the blood away. He touches the wound gently and Regulus hisses through his teeth. James looks up at him apologetically, scooching closer and running his fingers over the cut. “Episksy,” he murmurs, and Regulus almost wants to laugh. 

“There are bandages under the bed,” he says. 

He realizes his mistake a second to late, and when James the bedskirt to reveal the mess of blue fabric concealing the Basilisk fangs and vials of venom, he can’t help but curse lowly. 

“What’s this?” James asks, looking back at him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

“Nothing. Just- Just focus, please.”

“But-”

“Sort of bleeding out here.”

“Shit, sorry.” James grabs the medkit and pulls out some gauze and bandages, tipping Regulus forward so he can wrap his torso. When he’s done he leans back to examine his work. “Good. I think.”

Regulus looks down at himself and nods. “Acceptable, certainly.” 

“I can’t believe she cursed you.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “She was testing out a theory.”

“On you?”

“That’s what I said.”

James sits back and pauses, glancing back towards the bed. “...Can we talk about the mysterious bundle now?”

Regulus sighs, closing his eyes and hanging his head. What the fuck. Why not. He already saved him and confessed to it- If Voldemort really looks through James's mind they're both dead anyway. 

“Have you ever heard of a horcrux?”

Notes:

Ok ok ok!! so idk if this chapter was entirely self indulgent or if you guys will enjoy it too but I had so much fun writing it. I know a lot happened and nothing happened at the same time, and im currently trying to figure out that vibe. Reg is kind of running on fumes right now since his life is currently one big crisis. Hence him giving up caring about James or who knows he's a traitor- he doesn't have the energy for secrets right now. Or grieving Evan, which... ouch. anyway.
Love me some jegulus. I missed my babies.
James is sooo relieved reg is a traitor he no longer has to feel guilty about being unreasonably attracted to him lol (that being said he is struggling mentally rn for obvious reasons)
also I love Bellatrix no one can stop me from believing she just does what she wants at any point in time which is often fighting family members for the fun of it. Did anyone know she had a daughter with Voldemort??? Did I miss something?? this was shocking news to me
I like to think James has sort of just accepted this situation. theres not much he can do considering it's a house often filled with death eaters and he doesn't have a wand. Also he's with reg, so he's really not complaining. ALSO him forgetting to forget their relationship when he's half asleep!! his subconscious remembering him!! instinctively comforting regulus when he's upset by just crawling into his bed!! Just assuming they're in the come and go room!! also that happening IMMEDIATELY after getting kidnapped is insane to me but what can you do
anyway let me know your thoughts sorry if this is ooc I just had fun with this one
(u guys are gonna go crazy for this next one... shits about to go down)

Chapter 60: Going Backwards

Notes:

;)

“So…” James sits forward, burying his head in his hands. “So.” 

“So.”

“Voldemort is immortal?”

“Temporarily.”

“And you and Snape…”

Regulus blinks at him. “It’s a work in progress.”

James curses, lifting his head. “Snape is a traitor? Really?”

“Same as me.”

That in of itself makes James’s heart clench with happiness- or maybe relief. 

“How’d you find out?”

Regulus shrugs. “I put veritaserum in his tea.”

“Ah. How Slytherin of you.”

“Well. It worked out.”

“Why was he here anyway?”

“We were working on a potion for the Dark Lord together. Gas protection.”

“Oh,” James says. Then: “Oh. That’s why Remus’s potion had no effect on you guys.” 

“I suppose.”

“That’s sort of funny actually.” He pauses. “Where’s Snape now?”

Regulus’s expression darkens. “I don’t know. I need to see him. The bastard has something of mine.”

They go quiet for a moment. “Does Dumbledore know? About the- about the Horcruxes?”

“Yes. I went to see him to get information.”

“And he just told you? Wait- so he knew you weren’t with Voldemort?”

“Yeah.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“Dumbledore has been trying to get me to spy for the Order for longer than I can remember. After I told him the Order had a traitor, I assume he realized it wouldn’t be safe to release that information until he knew who it was. And Pettigrew has always been good at flying under the radar.”

There it is again.

“If there is a traitor, Peter isn’t it.” James says resolutely, because he isn’t. He can't be. It’s inconceivable. 

Regulus narrows his eyes at him. “I told you-”

“He would never do that,” James insists. “I don’t know what you thought you heard, or how you interpreted his words, but he’s a Marauder. He just wouldn’t.”

“Fine.” Regulus rubs his forehead. “Fine. I won’t push it.”

“I just- it seems dangerous for you to have your mind made up about this. The real traitor could be out there and here you are just dismissing all other options.”

Regulus frowns. “We’re getting off track.”

“Right. Horcruxes. So how many are left?”

“Three.”

“...Any ideas?”

“No.” 

“Maybe we should talk to Dumbledore.”

Regulus’s mouth twists. “I don't want to.”

“I know. But-”

“He would’ve told me.”

“Would he? That seems like an awful security risk.”

Regulus sighs, obviously bitter. “I’ll figure it out. I-”

He’s interrupted by a knock on the door. Regulus sends James a sharp look and rises, opening it slowly. “Oh. Good.” he pulls it the rest of the way open, revealing Snape on the other side. James narrows his eyes. 

“So,” Snape drawls, pushing in. “you took in Potter.”

Regulus shuts the door behind him. “They were going to kill him.”

“I don’t see why that’s such a big issue.” Snape sneers.

“The Order needs him alive.”

“Since when do we care what the Order needs?”

James raises his brows. “So it’s true then. Snivilelus is a traitor.”

“Something you should really be grateful for,” Snape intones drily.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yes you do,” Regulus cuts in. “You need any help you can get.”

James crosses his arms, huffing. “I don’t see why you can’t just let me out a window.”

“Wards,” Snape and Regulus say at the same time, and James decides he hates this particular duo. 

“Also,” Regulus adds. “There’s no way you’d get out a window with me letting you out. And that compromises all of us.”

“Well. Not me.” Snape adds unhelpfully. 

Regulus looks at him. “Yet.”

“Yet?”

“Potter watched you and Lupin talk civilly. If he’s caught and the Dark Lord sees that in his memories, you’ll at least be called in for questioning if not an examination.”

“Plus, you know, the Horcruxes,” James comments. 

Snape snaps his head to look at Regulus, furious. “You told him about the Horcruxes?!” 

Regulus sighs. “He found the Basilisk Fangs. I promised- I swore to the Dark Lord that I hadn’t taken any. I’m already dead if that gets discovered. Plus, I figured that it wouldn’t matter. And maybe he could help.”

Snape collapses into the chair next to Regulus’s bed. James finds himself mildly surprised at the ease in which Snape and Regulus settle into the space, as if they’ve spent many hours here together. He supposes they have. “So I’m in this now.”

“You’re in this now.” Regulus confirms.

“And we have to get him out.”

“...Yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Sorry my existence is such a burden,” James grouses. Snape and Regulus both glare at him. 

“I told you not to come to the beach.”

“I couldn’t very well just sit by.”

“You could’ve, in fact. We’d have avoided this whole mess.”

“So what’s the plan, then?”

Regulus sighs, taking a seat next to him on the bed. James tries and fails not to flush at his proximity. “I talked to Lupin and my brother. I told them where you are and the time frame they have to rescue you.”

“So we just wait for them to show up?”

“We have to have a plan b,” Regulus says. “There’s a very slim chance they’ll pull this off. Additionally, the Dark Lord could return at any time tomorrow. We don’t have the luxury of trusting them on this. Shit, I wish Kreature was here. He could get you out without aggravating the wards.”

“So I can’t escape,” James says slowly, thinking it over. “Can we fuck with what the Dark Lord will find when he looks in my mind?”

Regulus shakes his head, biting his lip. “There’s not nearly enough time to teach you Occlumency, and it can’t be done by another person.”

“Wait,” Snape says, sitting forward. “As loath as I am to admit it, Potter may be onto something- for once in his life. What if- and hear me out- we just take away the memories he’s trying to find? Just the dangerous ones?”

Regulus goes completely stiff next to James, who sits up a little straighter. “Wait- yeah,” He says excitedly. “What if you obliviate me?”

“No.”

“But I think it would work,” James says quickly. “Just the important stuff, as Snape said. Just you telling me about the beach and the fangs and basically everything since.”

Regulus pushes forward on the bed. “No.”

“But-”

“It’s too dangerous. Messing with your head that much-”

“But it wouldn’t be anything big, nothing determental, just what's necessary.”

Snape smirks. “Plus if he comes out the other end any more of a blithering idiot than he already is, the world won’t be losing anything special.” James flips him off, a gesture Snape promptly returns. 

“No,” Regulus says again, voice deathly cold. James is taken aback by the icy resolve in his eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What's too dangerous is Voldemort finding out everything I know about the Order and that you two are very much traitors who know his biggest secret.” 

“We can find a way to reverse it, if that’s what you're worried about.” Snape waves a hand. “Some talented Legilimens can bring memories back, especially if it hasn’t been too long.”

“But-” Regulus looks at James quickly. “Obviously they’d assume it was me who did it. How would that fix anything?”

“Shit,” Snape mutters, sinking back into his chair.

“Also, there’s no way to remove specific memories. It’s all or nothing.” 

“That’s not true,” Snape says, and James almost doesn’t catch the glare Regulus sends across the room. “There are some books on it. Your father might have some, actually. His library is surprisingly extensive.”

“I said no,” Regulus insists, standing. Snape rises too, gesturing at James. 

“I’m not worried about his bloody mental health, Black. I’m worried about us making it out of this alive. If he’s caught, it’s over. I think it’s worth the risk.”

“Reg,” James tries, voice soft. “Just-“ 

“Snape, give me the stone.” Regulus cuts him off, taking a few steps forward. “You took it off me when after the shack, didn’t you? Before you brought me back?” 

“Yeah. But-“

“Don’t push me on this.”

James has no idea what either of them are talking about, but he lets it go in favor of watching silently. 

“Is it the best idea… so soon?”

“I need it. Now, Severus.” 

They stare at each other, eyes locked. Something James doesn’t quite understand passes between them. Eventually Snape heaves a sigh. “I suppose you do, don’t you.”

He fishes something out of his pocket, handing it to Reg who grabs it quickly. “Okay,” He says, letting out a deep breath. “Okay. I need a break. I’m going to go… do something. Don't kill each other or yourselves.”

“Where are you going?” James asks, shifting towards the edge of the bed. Even stronger than his desire not to be left alone with Snape is the overwhelming need for Regulus to stay.

“Just- away.” And then the door shuts behind him, and James and Snape are left in suffocating silence.

“Well,” James says finally.

“Don’t talk to me.”

“He’s being difficult. Is he normally like this?”

Snape shoots him a scathing look. “How should I know?”

“But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

“My good idea.”

“Definitely not. Why is Reg so dead-set against it?”

Snape’s lip curls. “Reg?”

“Regulus. Whatever.”

“I have no idea. He’s very stubborn about certain things. They don’t always make sense.”

“But it’s a good idea. It's our only idea.”

“He most likely has a point. Besides, they’d know immediately that one of us obliviated you.” 

James grimaces, looking away. The greasy bastard has a point. Unless… “Unless I did it myself.” 

Snape stares at him, leaning forward slightly. “Especially if you did it in front of them.” 

“I’d need my wand.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just in his desk drawer,” Snape says, then pulls it open to prove it. “We can give it to you to hide until you need it. The Dark Lord could come anytime tomorrow.”

“We? Regulus doesn’t seem quite on board with this plan.”

Snape tips his head. “Maybe we don’t tell him, then.”

Everything in James immediately protests. “But-”

“Black may be a little peculiar about some things, but I would much rather stay alive than go against his wishes. He isn’t in charge.” 

“He should be. He is. This is his house- his room-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, maybe I should call the Dark Lord and he should kill us all right now. Get it over with, you know?”

“Fine. Fine.” James glances towards the door, filled with bottomless guilt. “How long do we have?”

Snape’s expression darkens, just slightly. “I don’t know. Long enough, if things go well for him. I’m going to go get books on memory charms. Hopefully Black stays occupied.” 

“What’s he doing?”

“None of your business.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.”

The door slams behind him. 

 

---

 

Regulus spends about ten minutes pacing back and forth across his attic floor before he caves and pulls out the stone. Spends another ten staring at it.

Finally he turns it three agonizing times between his fingers. Nothing happens, and his stomach sinks.

“Oh,” Says a voice behind him, and Regulus whips around, heart jumping. But it’s just Harold, looking around with crossed arms. Regulus lets out a long breath, taking a few steps back. Everything in him falls. 

“It’s you.”

“Hoping for someone else?”

“Always.” Regulus moves to a dusty trunk, sinking on to it and resting his head in his hands. “I wish I could choose who appears.” 

“Who did you want this time?”

Regulus just shakes his head, biting his lip and attempting to fight off tears. It’s difficult to breathe through the wave of disappointment that threatens to drown him. “I just thought- I thought he’d come.” 

“Who?”

Regulus wipes his eyes furiously, blinking fast at the ground. He doesn’t want Harold. He never wants Harold. He isn’t Evan. He isn’t Saskia. “Just go.”

“You have to drop the stone.” 

Regulus’s fingers tighten around it instinctually. It stays firmly in his grip. 

“Did something happen?” Harold asks, his voice getting closer. 

A few wet tears trace their way down Regulus’s cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut. He’s so sick of crying. “I thought he would come,” he says again, voice breaking. 

Harold goes quiet for a minute, just watching. “Your friend.”

Regulus snaps his head up. “You’ve seen him? He’s there?”

Harold’s eyes soften slightly. “Sometimes.”

“How- how do you know he’s my-”

“He feels like you. Just a little. Like your soul has brushed his in passing.” Harold laughs hollowly. “I don’t really know how to describe ghost logic to someone still alive.”

“Is he alright?”

Harold’s smile falters. “He’s dead. He’s seventeen. I don’t think anyone could be alright, considering.” 

Regulus lets out a harsh breath, sitting back and wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. “Right. Okay.”

“I wish I could tell you more. I have no real idea how the stone works. Neither do you, I don’t think.”

“I’m wondering…” Regulus stares down at dusty wooden floorboards. “If I give it to someone who maybe knew him better, do you think he would come?”

Harold considers. “There’s a definite chance. What was the… nature of their relationship? I imagine that would matter. I mean, Merope only came when you were talking about her son.”

Regulus opens his mouth, closes it. Hums lightly. “I don’t know. I don’t think they knew.”

“More than friends, then.”

“Yes. More than friends.”

Harold stares at him. “And you want to give the stone to him?”

“If… if it helps, yes.”

“You wouldn’t see me anymore.”

“No.”

“Do you know how the original story goes?”

“...No.”

There’s an odd look on Harold's face, slightly haunted and a little sad. “Well.”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No. You should read it on your own.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Then give your friend the stone.” 

“Okay.” 

Harold pauses. “You look tired.”

Regulus almost laughs. “My ex-boyfriend took over my bed last night.”

Harold blinks in shock. “Ex… boyfriend? What?” 

“No. Not boyfriend. Not ex either, really, since we never fully broke up.” 

“You broke up but you weren’t dating?”

“We didn’t break up. And- we weren't boyfriends. I don’t know what we were.”

“Like your other two friends?”

“No. More than them. More defined, at least.”

“And yet you have no definition to give me.”

Regulus just shrugs. “Whatever. It’s over now. Despite his best efforts.”

“Why is he here, then?”

“He got himself kidnapped.”

“And ended up in your bed?” 

Regulus sighs. “That was of his own volition.” 

“I see. You didn’t kick him out.”

“I’m weak. We know this. I do need to get him out before he gets himself and me killed, though.” 

“What are you gonna do?”

“I have no idea,” Regulus says honestly. “Fight everyone, if I have to.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“If I have to,” Regulus repeats, “I don’t care. I won’t let him die.”

“But-” 

“The door will be guarded, plus the entire house is covered in wards, so he wouldn’t even be able to run. With the Dark Lord’s return, the house will be swarming with Death Eaters. Snape wants me to obliviate him.”

“The pale boy.” 

“Yes.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Once is dangerous enough. Twice, though, on the same brain? James might be messed up beyond recognition. “I- ah. Um. Let’s just say it wouldn’t be safe. Also, even if he has nothing to offer, he’ll just be killed anyway.” 

“So.”

“So I’ll probably be joining you tomorrow.”

“Well,” Harold says after a moment. “I hope you don’t.”

Regulus lifts his head to look at him, taking him in for the first time. “Thought you hated me.”

Harold’s mouth twitches. “I do. I wouldn’t wanna be stuck with you for eternity.” 

“Right.” Regulus chuckles despite himself, standing slowly.

“Am… am I going to see you again?” Harold asks. “If you give the stone to your friend?”

Regulus moves to the door, throwing him a shaky smile over his shoulder. “Someday.”

Harold nods, eyes crinkling slightly. “My girls?”

“Still alive.”

“Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“You owe it to me- and them- to live.”

Regulus gives him a long look. "That's not fair."

Harold holds his gaze. "Me being here isn't fair. Me stuck on this end of the stone isn't fair. I think not joining me is the least you can do."

Regulus doesn’t look at him when he drops the stone back into his pocket. “I wish you were Evan.” 

 

---

 

Remus finds Effie in James’s bedroom, folding his clothes. “Hi,” he hums, knocking on the doorframe before sliding his hands into his pocket. 

Effie looks up sharply. “Oh- Remus. Hi. How’s everything going?”

“Fine.” Remus bites his lip, looking down. “Not really.”

“I figured. Come sit.” 

He makes his way over to James’s bed, sinking onto it and staring at the quidditch posters he has up on the far wall. “I’m worried about Sirius. I don’t like this plan.”

Effie nods, taking a defeated seat next to him. “None of us do, I don’t think. Moody and Dumbledore certainly hate it, but it’s basically our only option.”

“We need to do it tonight. Early. I don’t want James stuck there another second.”

“I know.”

“What if Sirius goes in too late? What if the Dark Lord’s already come and gone? What if Prongs is-” Remus shuts his mouth, deciding laying this all out on James’s mother is maybe not the best move. “No, Regulus told us. If we go in any sooner we may risk messing up whatever plan he has going on.” 

“I’m not so sure he has one,” Effie says softly. “Sounds like he left that up to you.”

“He’s the worst,” Remus groans, tipping his head into his hands.

“He can’t be,” Effie says, “if he put himself in that much danger just to tell James about the beach and then you about this.” 

“Yes, well, he can still be the worst with a weak spot.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Effie’s lips. “James.”

Remus sighs, nodding.

“I thought it was interesting he helped with Monty’s potions. He was the reason he lived as long as he did, actually. That kid has talent.”

“Sirius still doesn’t know, does he?”

Effie shakes her head. “Not unless you’ve told him.”

“One day,” Remus mutters. 

“Should I worry about how Regulus will treat James?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Remus laughs bitterly. “From what I can tell, he’d burn the world down before he’d let your son get hurt. The amount of things they’ve both sacrificed…”

“So they were together, then?”

Remus bites the inside of his cheek. “...Yeah. At school.” 

“I figured. James used to talk about him more than he realized, I think. Plus, the potions…” 

“I wonder why he never told you.”

“He sort of did, in a way. But recently it’s been… off. He’s been off. He told me as much, so I know he sees it too. He’s just fuzzy.”

Remus resolutely doesn’t look at her. She catches on. “Remus? Do you know something?”

He says nothing.

“Did Regulus… does he have something to do with it?”

Slowly he nods, letting out a deep breath. “Regulus has the Dark Mark.”

“I know. I mean, I thought that was-”

“James knew.”

“...Oh,” Effie says after a moment, and he knows how she feels.

“He wouldn’t let Regulus push him away, wouldn’t let him… break up with him, for lack of a better term. He didn’t see- or maybe didn’t care- that their relationship was putting himself in danger.” He smooths out the comforter under him with a hand. “Regulus cared. A lot. He saw what was going to happen, long before it did. But as he tells it, James wouldn’t go, so…”

Effie just keeps watching him so Remus gives in. Enough secrets are out already. What’s one more? “He obliviated him. It’s drastic, I know. And insane. And dangerous. But as much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. And it worked, for a while. I guess it wasn’t enough.”

Effie stares at him, eyes wide. “He obliviated him? Completely?”

“No. Just the memories of the relationship.”

“What- he-” 

“I know.”

“But-”

“I know. He’s insane.”

“That’s why James is so confused everytime I bring him up.” 

“Yeah, probably.”

Effie blinks at him, still shocked. 

“I know,” Remus says again in sympathy. “I can’t imagine what it’s doing to him, being trapped there.”

“Both of them,” Effie mutters softly. “Poor Regulus.”

“No. Not poor Regulus. He brought this upon himself.” Remus looks away. “He didn’t… he didn’t have to do that.”

“Sounds like he did, though.”

“Fat lot of good it did him. Look where James ended up.”

“Yeah, but that’s James’s fault, isn’t it? Regulus even warned him.”

Remus just huffs and stares at the floor. Effie rubs his back soothingly and he melts into her a bit. “I know you’re worried, sweetheart. We’ll get James back. Regulus will keep him safe for us until we can. Sirius knows what he’s doing. It’s a good plan.”

“It’s risky. I hate sending him back into that house.”

“He’s strong. He knows his limits.” 

“He’ll ignore them if it means saving James.”

Effie lets out a deep sigh. “He’s really got both the Black brothers wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?”

Remus laughs lightly. “I don’t know how he does it.”

Effie ruffles his hair and stands up. “Let's go talk to Sirius. That might help, won’t it?”

“Maybe,” Remus concedes, rising with her. 

“So,” She says as they pass into the hall. “I’m guessing Sirius has no idea about any of this.” 

Remus just sighs. 

 

---

 

When Regulus opens the door, Snape quickly kicks the books they’d been reading under the bed and James slides to the floor to cover them. Regulus shuts the door behind him, eyeing them suspiciously. James blinks right on back.

“Any ideas?” Regulus says eventually, moving further into the room.

“No. Not really.”

Regulus lets out a breath and sinks into a chair. “Snape, will you be here tomorrow?”

“Hell no. If I can help it, I’m getting as far away from this place as I can in case we can’t get Potter out. I’m not dying for him.”

“Understandable,” Regulus mutters, resting his chin on his knees. 

“Did it work?” Snape asks then. “The stone?”

“No.”

“Oh. I’m-”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.”

James looks between them. “Er- Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m hungry. It’s sort of dinner time.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but stands anyway. “Stay here. Both of you.” Then he’s gone, and Snape turns back to him.

“A little obvious, don’t you think?”

“What?” James says, confused. “I’m actually hungry. He hasn’t fed me since this morning.”

“Oh, I thought- nevermind. You’re an idiot.” Snape tucks his hair behind his ears, mouth twisting with distaste.

“Listen, just because we’re working together on this doesn’t mean we have to get along-”

“We aren’t working on anything together,” Snape hisses. “We're figuring out how to stop you from getting me and Black killed.”

“Can we focus?” James snaps. 

“Sure.”

“So you think just concentrating on the particular memories I want gone will work?”

“I have no idea, but that’s the gist of occlumency. I don’t see why it wouldn’t be the same. It’s like meditation. Just clear your abnormally large head and focus on everything you want erased.”

“What if I mess up? What if erasing only certain memories turns out to be impossible?”

“It isn’t. We read the same book, didn’t we?” 

“Fine.” James shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t love the idea of fucking around in his mind, but what other option does he have?

“Do you need to go over the wand movement again?”

“No, I’ve got it. I- it’ll be fine.”

The door swings open and Regulus hands James a bowl of soup. “Turns out my mother is a shit cook. Enjoy.” 

“It’s fine,” James says. Taking a hesitant bite. It's truly horrendous. He chuckles at a memory, setting the spoon back in the bowl.

Regulus frowns. "What?"

"It's nothing." James starts. “My mum is trying to teach Lily how to cook- I think she’s always wanted a daughter, too many boys she says- but she can’t get past eggs. In her defense, eggs are horrible.”

Both Regulus and Snape go stiff at the mention of Lily, though James has no idea why. “She’s teaching Marlene too,” he says, in an attempt to fix whatever he did.

Regulus clears his throat. “Is it working?”

“Not particularly, no.” James pauses. “My mother may be a bad teacher.”

“Okay,” Snape interrupts, standing. “I’m not here for small talk. I’m leaving. I guess… contact me if you figure something out. If you don’t, no need. I’ll probably be dead.” He pauses in the doorway, eyes locked on James’s. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but good luck.”

James doesn’t move and Regulus nods silently next to him. Snape lets out a breath and shuts the door behind him.

“I hate him,” James says immediately.

“I know.” Regulus stares at the door. “Yeah.”

“This soup is… not good.”

Regulus raises a brow at him as James takes another bite. “You wish it was Evans’s soup?”

“I told you,” James says, swallowing his mouthful. “She can’t cook.” 

“Neither can my mother.”

“Apparently.” 

“She did say something helpful. The Dark Lord is currently staying with Bellatrix at the Lestrange manor. He’ll visit in the morning.”

“Helpful, you say?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “She also wanted to make sure I’m keeping you restrained.”

“You can restrain me anytime.”

Regulus makes a particularly rude gesture with his hand and James chuckles.

Neither of them speak for a moment.

“What are we gonna do?” James says eventually into the silence. 

Regulus lets his head drop back against the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t.”

Outside the window, the sun sets. 

“Why won’t you obliviate me?” James asks softly.

Regulus just shakes his head next to him. “It’s just a very bad idea.”

“Worse than letting Voldemort poke through my memories and kill us both?”

“I don’t know, ” Regulus says again, obviously frustrated. “It’s not a good option.”

James nods, mulling that over. Doesn’t mean he’ll listen to him, of course, but he doesn’t dismiss his opinion. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

“I'm not. I’m- I would be dead too.”

James stares at him. The dying sun casts a glow across his cheekbones, lighting him up like an angel. “Not that. Telling me about the beach. Giving me a cot and blankets. Giving me soup. Letting me into your bed.”

Regulus’s cheeks flush instantly. “That wasn’t- I- that was all you.”

James doesn’t look away. His head hurts. “Yeah, but you let me. I don’t even remember- I mean. I just woke up there.”

“I was asleep,” Regulus says, studying the carpet intently. “I didn't notice.”

“And telling me about the beach?”

“I told you. I’m a traitor. I’m trying to kill the Dark Lord. Helping you is in my best interest.”

“Mm.” James looks back out the window. “Okay.”

“Enemy of my enemy and all that,” Regulus says quickly.

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

They watch the sunset, neither moving.

James, as usual, breaks the silence. “What if I seduce your mum?”

“What?” Regulus nearly breaks his neck turning to look at him, eyes wide with horror.

James wrestles with a smile. “I don’t know. Maybe she’d let me out if I get in her knickers.”

Regulus shudders. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

“Ugh,” Regulus says unhappily. 

“Maybe I should go for Orion then.”

“Please do not.”

“He’s got a sort of rich-imperial thing going on. I could make it work.”

“Stop.”

“I mean, it would take some convincing, but if it meant freeing the both of us…”

“Just don’t.”

“I bet he’d share my cot.”

“You won’t even share your cot.”

“Nah, I’d much rather share your bed.”

Regulus snaps his mouth shut, staring at him intently. “That was a mistake we will not be repeating tonight.”

“We?”

“You’re sleeping on the cot.”

“Come on, Reg,” James jokes, smiling and leaning in. “This night might be my last one alive, and you want me to spend it on a human-rights violating piece of fabric?”

At his words Regulus’s face falls and he bites his lip as he looks away. James’s own smile slips at his reaction. “Hey-”

“I won’t let you die, you know that, right?” Regulus says softly, still not looking at him.

James pauses. “There may be nothing you can do.”

“But I won’t- I won’t just let it happen.”

James watches him, letting those words sink into his bones and warm him from the inside. “I’ll fight it,” He says. “I’d rather die than let Voldemort see the Order’s- and your secrets.” 

“I know. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“This is what I’m talking about,” James says, crawling till he’s kneeling in front of Regulus so he can better look him in the eye. “That. Why do you do that? Why do you care about me?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“James, we talked about this,” Regulus says, voice trembling, just a bit. 

"No, you just tried to scare me off. It didn't work."

"Why are you so insistent on this? On our... connection?"

Even the brief acknowledgment that they do have some sort of connection sends something warm down James's spine. He straightens. 

“I-” James flushes, but it may be his last night alive and anyway, Regulus deserves to know. His skin crawls with nerves. “Fuck it. Listen- I’ve sort of fancied you for the past few months. I know that’s- I know thats ridiculous- but-”

Regulus’s pupils dilate and he cuts him off. “You thought I was a Death Eater.”

“I know,” James whispers. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Regulus’s lips part and he sucks in a shaky breath. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I do, unfortunately. I’m not- I’m not telling you so you’ll do something about it, and I don’t expect anything, I just thought you should know.” 

Regulus shakes his head adamantly. “James, you’re doing this now? Also- no. You don’t… fancy me. You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do. And yes, now, because if we’re dead tomorrow I want you to know. Haven’t you picked up on all my flirting? Fancied is maybe a strong word, but something about you…” He hums to himself, trying to find the words. “You’re captivating.”

“You just like the taboo. You like being attracted to someone you can’t have. Isn’t that why you kept going after Evans, even once she said no?”

Another time, those words would sting. James brushes them off before they get a chance. “I got over Lily a long time ago. We’re just friends. And no, I liked her because she was beautiful and funny and so smart.”

A muscle in Regulus’s jaw clenches. He looks away, eyes angry. James sighs. “Listen. I don’t like you because it’s taboo. I like you because…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“Exactly. James. Be serious for one minute. I thought we covered this.” He reaches for his arm, and James lets him. Regulus rolls up his sleeve to reveal the mark, and James stares, hating the sight but looking anyway. “It’s as I said,” Regulus mumbles, voice quiet. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

James doesn’t like the look on his face. Hates it, in fact, and decides he needs it gone. He takes Regulus’s wrist gently, raising his arm and turning it left and right, examining the mark in the fading light. It’s dark and certain, marring his pale skin, but James doesn’t think it makes him ugly. Especially now, knowing he doesn’t mean it, James thinks it's more of a scar than a tattoo. Not a choice but instead a symbol imposed upon him, something he had to do, a mark of his commitment to the cause. Not the Dark Lord’s- the opposite, the rebellion, the fight. A necessary trial undertaken. Something survived. Regulus never should’ve had to take it, but it’s a part of him now, there’s no denying that. Which means, at least to James, it has to be beautiful. 

Slowly, so slowly, James lifts Regulus’s arm to his mouth and presses his lips against the black ink. 

 

---

 

Regulus can’t breathe, staring at the boy in front of him.

His heart hammers wildly in his chest, threatening to burst past his ribs. James has his forearm gently cradled by his hands, lips pressed against the grotesque mark sprawled across it. 

Now? Regulus screams in his head. You’re pulling out this terribly romantic and absolutely gut-wrenching gesture now? 

James pulls back, just slightly, and runs his thumb over the length of the mark. Regulus shivers despite himself, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of overwhelming emotion that’s currently pouring in from every angle. Half of him longs to rip his arm out of James’s grasp, to shove his sleeve down and continue treating it like a horrendous case of leprosy. The other half burns with the need to pull James closer, to kiss him with as much gentleness as he’s using on his arm, to prove that he too is something worth loving. 

But he doesn’t.

Because that would be fucking stupid.

And even if they’re both about to die tomorrow, James doesn’t want this for the same reasons he does. He wants the touch of skin, he wants someone warm, he wants to spend what he thinks is his last night distracted by another person. He doesn’t want Regulus. 

James lifts his head, stares at him, and Regulus forces himself to drag his gaze up to meet his. “What are you doing,” he murmurs, words catching.

“It’s just one night,” James whispers back, and they’re so fucking close Regulus can feel James’s words brush against his lips as warm puffs of air. “It’s just one night before the end of the world. What does it matter?”

“I’m not going to let you die tomorrow,” Regulus mumbles again. 

“I don’t know if that’s up to you.”

“You’re so stupid,” Regulus whispers, and then he’s choking and he tips forward, grabbing James’s shirt and pressing his forehead against his chest. His breath comes out in gasps as he desperately tries to get himself under control, shoulders shaking. It’s embarrassing and childish but something inside him is beyond saving. “So bloody stupid,” he says again. “Why did you come to the beach?”

James goes still for a moment then closes his arms around Regulus’s back, pulling him in closer. “I had to, love. You know I never could’ve watched my friends fight without me.”

“Just this once. Just this once I wanted you to stop being a martyr.”

“I helped,” James whispers. “I helped people. I saved lives. I know I did. If I did it again, I’d make the same choice. Maybe I wouldn’t get caught, I’d hate to put you in danger, but…”

“I detest you,” Regulus says, and desperately ignores the way the words break and tear. 

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

James pulls him back slowly, hands on his shoulders. He wipes his face with his sleeve, looking him over carefully. “It’s going to be fine. It’s going to work out.” 

“You don’t know that.” He sucks in a deep breath, holding the last shreds of his self control together. He wipes his eyes furiously, pressing the heels of his palms into them.

“Listen,” James says, pulling his hands back from his face. His touch is achingly familiar, and Regulus longs to lean into it. “We have a night, right? One night for sure. Probably more. Hopefully more. But for now, we have one night.”

Regulus forces himself to take another breath, desperately trying to regulate his heart beat. “One night.” 

James stares at him for a long moment. “It’s just one,” he says again.

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, everything about this, the fact that he went far enough to erase all the memories of their relationship and now they’re back where they started, the fact that everything he’s done has been pointless, the fact that every situation he’s gotten himself into has been avoidable.

Except, he thinks distantly, maybe this. Maybe the way James is looking at him, maybe the tug in Regulus’s chest, maybe this has always been inevitable.

Plus, they’re most likely both going to die tomorrow. 

And really, it is just one night.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, right?

 

---

 

James’s head is pounding, throbbing with pain that threatens to tip him over should he give in. It aches in a horribly familiar way, but burning and hurting like it never has before. 

Regulus is just watching him with those wide grey eyes, soft and wide and so vulnerable. 

James wants to shut off the lights and put a pillow over his head and wait till the pain passes, but he has a feeling that won't work this time. Regulus is right there, and so inviting, and James needs to be closer. 

He lifts a hand to Regulus’s cheek, running a thumb over his smooth skin, and before he can talk himself out of it, leans in.

Regulus lets out a small gasp and quickly lifts a hand to cover James’s mouth, eyes wide.

James feels his brows furrow as he looks up, confused. Because Regulus isn’t pushing him away, just sort of holding him there, pressing his palm against his lips. Regulus stares at him, chest rising and falling quickly, looking mildly surprised by his own actions. 

James tilts his head behind Regulus’s hand, a silent question. Regulus squeezes his eyes tight, gritting his teeth in frustration. Then he lets out a deep breath and sighs, nodding slowly.

James takes that and runs with it, pulling away from Reg’s hand and leaning in again, head lowered this time, one hand tilting Regulus’s chin up and pressing his lips against the smooth expanse of Regulus’s neck. 

Regulus gasps and the sound goes directly to his core, the last of James’s control slipping away. He moves closer, shuffling in, closing his arms around Regulus’s waist and pulling him forward and up until the other boy has no choice but to settle on his lap.

Sorry, Sirius.

Something inside James hums at the position and he makes a soft sound against Regulus’s skin, licking at the spot under his ear and grazing his teeth over it a moment later. Regulus’s hands tighten on his shoulders, and he shifts closer, pressing his chest against James’s and tilting his head back to give him better access. 

The ache in James's head is overwhelming, agonizing, consuming every inch of him. He’s dizzy and thinks he might be sick but doesn’t dare stop. The idea of not touching Regulus seems one hundred times worse than anything his own body can do to him. 

Yes, he thinks as he closes a hand around Regulus’s hip and pulls him in. Yes. This is right. This is so fucking right. 

Regulus groans against him and his hands tangle in James’s hair, tugging just slightly, and James makes an embarrassing noise before he can stop himself. He leans back and goes for Regulus’s mouth again, because he can’t help it, because he desperately wants to kiss him, but a sharp pull to his hair stops him and he blinks up at Regulus helplessly. 

Regulus gazes down at him through half-lidded eyes. “No kissing,” he murmurs. “Not on the mouth.”

“Why?” James all-but whines, squeezing Regulus’s hips. 

“Because,” Reg whispers, dropping his head to whisper against the skin of James’s cheek, so close to where he wants him but still so far, “That makes all this real.”

James ignores the sharp ache those words send through him in favor of putting his lips back on Regulus’s neck, just above his collarbone. He takes a hand and slides it up Regulus’s back, under his shirt, feeling the ridges of his spine under his palm. 

Regulus shivers and then does something fucking magical with his hips that has James gasping into his neck, and then he can’t take it anymore, looping both his arms around Regulus’s waist and lifting him entirely, standing shakily and maneuvering them onto the bed above them. 

He pushes Regulus down, crawling up him till he’s propped up over his head, staring down into his eyes.

Regulus’s lips part and he arches off the bed, closing his arms around James’s shoulders. “Please,” He breathes, and James pulls him closer, losing himself in the tangle of limbs and warm breath. He slides off his shirt, followed shortly by Regulus’s, running his hands up his shoulders and relishing in the heat stirring low in his gut. There are scars, he realizes, small and raised on the top of one of Regulus’s arms. He resolves to ask him about them later, when they’re done with all this and hopefully alive. 

His head spins and yet at the same time the pain recedes, and all he can think about is Regulus. Regulus’s hair, his face, his eyes, the feel of his fingers. It’s nothing like Fabian at that fancy gala. No, this isn’t something to get through but instead something to savor, to enjoy, to lose himself in. The thing that’s been haunting him for months recedes like a placated beast, and the gap in his chest, for the first time in ages, feels nearly full. He still doesn’t know exactly what he’s been looking for, but right now he feels like he’s so, so much closer to finding it. 

Then Regulus tilts his head back with a choking sound as James puts his hand to good use and suddenly he can’t think about anything at all. 

 

---

 

Regulus fucked up. 

Substantially. 

He lays on his side, staring at James’s face, utterly and entirely furious with himself.

How could he be so weak?

“What’s wrong?” James whispers, reaching out and brushing curls away from Regulus’s eyes. 

Regulus shifts away, avoiding his gaze. “I- we shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have let you get this far.”

James frowns slightly. “Why?”

“It means that everything I’ve done,” Regulus murmurs. “Everything I’ve done has been pointless, because here you are anyway.”

“What have you done?”

“Horrible, meaningless things.” 

James sighs and Regulus can feel the air hit his face, soft and warm. “It is kind of ridiculous that we barely knew each other three days ago and now we’re like this.”

“...Right.”

James rolls on his back, resting a hand on his chest and staring at the ceiling. “Though, it doesn’t really feel like that, does it?”

“What-”

“I mean- I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. Nevermind.” 

Regulus nods to himself, burrowing further under the blanket. It’s warm in here. Warm and safe and he doesn’t have to think about tomorrow or the boy in his bed or whatever he just did.

Until James joins him a moment later, arms circling around him and pulling him into a warm chest. Regulus allows himself three seconds of comfort before he pushes back slowly. “James.” 

“Please,” James whispers. “It’s just one night.” 

So Regulus allows himself to be pulled back in, closing his eyes and focusing on the rhythm of James’s heartbeat. Distantly he remembers the marks on James's neck at the concert. The boy he shagged at a party. Even if that's all this is, even if it's just another hookup, it might be enough. Maybe, he thinks as he drifts, he can trick himself into thinking that James means all this. It’ll be gone by morning anyway. Maybe just for a night, it can be real. 

 

---

 

Regulus wakes to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. More specifically, the loud creak of the second to top one followed by a muttered curse. 

Before he can think about it Regulus kicks James in the stomach, shoving him hard and sending him tumbling off the bed onto the cot below it. James yelps but slaps a hand over his mouth when Regulus shushes him aggressively. 

The footsteps get closer and Regulus sits up, reaching for his wand on the bedside table. His parents never check on him in the middle of the night, and everyone else knows to leave him alone. Kneeling on top of the covers Regulus shakes the last of sleep from his head and moves towards the door. James, still on the cot, looks between the door and Regulus with wide eyes, sliding on his glasses.

Then the footsteps pause and the door creaks open carefully. Regulus stares. There’s no one there. He raises his wand slowly. 

“Hello?” James whispers. Regulus glares at him. 

Then the air shimmers and parts, and a head appears in the doorway. Sirius’s head. The rest of his body remains invisible, obviously hidden by the cloak. 

Regulus lets out a harsh breath and sits back on the bed, dropping his wand. “Shit, Sirius,” he mutters. 

James scrambles to his feet and hugs Sirius tightly, throwing his arms around his shoulders. Sirius drops the rest of the cloak and hugs him back, burying his face in James's neck. “We thought you were dead,” he gasps.

James shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, see? You came for me. My knight in shining armor!” 

Regulus stands, stepping around them to shut the door quietly. He turns back to his brother, insides fluttering with a mix of relief and dread. “You showed up.”

Sirius sends him a look, still wrapped around James. “Of course I did.”

“Took you long enough.” 

“I literally came the same night you told us about James.” 

“Couldn't have come the same day?”

“No, because there would’ve been people awake and wandering around, idiot.” 

Sirius steps back, glancing around. “Wow. You really haven’t changed anything.”

Regulus crosses his arms, suddenly cold. “It’s only been a year. Long enough for you to forget about the second step, I guess.” 

Sirius shrugs and turns his attention back to James, ruffling his hair. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

“No,” James says reassuringly. “No, I’m fine.” 

“How the fuck did you get in here, Sirius?”

Sirius turns to him, grinning. “That’s the best part. Those fuckers forgot to take me off the wards.”

“What?”

“I know! They burned me off the family tree but couldn’t manage to separate me from the magic surrounding the house. Well, of course they added some, and I had to break through those, but the innermost layer I just popped on through.”

“You broke through some of the wards?” Regulus asks, incredulous. 

“Yep. Took some time. Also took Moody’s expertise, but we figured it out. And it was significantly easier since my magic is aligned with the magic of the family.”

“You do realize that means that our parents probably felt that.”

“They’ll feel something maybe, but it’ll take them a while.” Sirius pauses, staring at them. “Why are you both naked?”

James makes a small sound and Regulus coughs. “We’re not naked.”

“Sorry, why are you only wearing pants?”

“This is how I like to sleep,” James tries. 

“No it’s not.” 

“Sirius,” Regulus snaps. “Focus. James, put on your trousers.” James immediately complies as Regulus does the same.

“Where’s Kreature?” Sirius asks, looking around.

“The Dark Lord took him.” Regulus bites his lip. “I’m a bit worried about that, actually.”

Sirius’s eyes widen. “Kreature’s gone?”

“Temporarily.” 

“Shit, that was like half of my plan.”

Regulus stares at him. “You didn’t think we would’ve thought of that?”

“I don’t know. You’re notoriously thick.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry Prongs, not you.”

“Just… Just take James out the front door. Get him back through the wards.”

“They’ll be notified since he isn’t keyed in,” Sirius says immediately.

Regulus nods. “But you’re already their enemy. It makes sense if you break him out. As long as it’s not me.”

“What if they look in your head?”

“I know Occlumency. I’ll be fine.”

“Shit. Fine. Let’s go.”

“But-” James looks to Regulus. “My wand.”

Regulus hands it to him, watching in fascination when James slips it into his sock.

Regulus steps forward. “Wait. Put on the cloak.”

James and Sirius exchange a glance and then Sirius swings the cloak over their heads, rendering them invisible instantly. “Good. Come on. And mind the second step this time.”

They make their way through the hall and down the stairs, Regulus leading the way. The house stays silent, save the soft tick of the clock. His heart pounds in his chest, nerves sending every inch of him tingling.

They reach the front door. Regulus turns around. “As soon as you get out, disapparate. Take him back to Godric's Hollow, get him inside the wards. I’ll reach out if something else comes up.”

The air shimmers and the cloak slips off their shoulders. James stares at him. “Reg-”

Regulus refuses to look at him. “Go. Now. While you still can.” 

Sirius clears his throat softly, stepping forward, and Regulus’s gaze snaps to his. “Regulus,” He says, voice soft and a little shaky. “I didn’t ask when I should’ve. I didn’t- so I’m asking now. Come with me. Come to the Potters. Let's escape together.”

Shock ripples through him and he takes a step back. Regulus sucks in a breath, staring at his brother. There’s a weird sort of warmth growing in his chest, spreading through him limb from limb. The tips of his fingers tingle. Sirius has to know it’s impossible. He has to know Regulus will refuse. But he’s asking anyway. He’s asking just to ask. 

“I can’t,” Regulus forces himself to say, but tries to make it sound at least a little kind. 

Sirius nods, and then reaches for the door.

The knob turns before he touches it. 

Regulus’s eyes widen and he yanks Sirius back just as it swings forward, opened from the outside. And there, on the steps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, stands Peter Pettigrew, wet and wide-eyed in the rain. 

For a minute, no one speaks.

And then James makes a gut-punched noise.

Sirius, however, doesn’t know what James and Regulus do, so he takes a confused step forward. “Wormtail? What are we doing here? I thought- I thought we decided it was only me going in.”

Peter opens his mouth and then shuts it. Regulus growls. “Get in or stay out.” Peter finally stumbles through the door and Regulus reaches to shut it behind him. “Can I convince you to go right now? Like immediately?” He hisses to Sirius and James. Both shake their heads slowly. “Thought so.”

Peter’s eyes flick to Regulus, who raises his wand. “Do not.”

“Peter?” Sirius asks again. “What-”

“I take it you haven’t talked to Pettigrew about the depth of his allegiance.” Regulus says dryly.

“What are you saying?” Sirius takes a few steps. “Peter, what is he saying?”

Pettigrew doesn’t respond, so Regulus does. “He’s a traitor, Sirius.”

Sirius laughs, but it’s a little forced. “No, It’s Peter. He-”

“Sirius,” James says softly. “How did he get through the wards?”

For a minute, time stands still. 

“That’s not- I wouldn’t-” Finally Peter speaks up, voice wavering.

“Shut up,” Regulus hisses.

“No,” Sirius says softly. “No.”

James takes his shoulder, pulling him back, and Sirius stumbles a bit but goes anyway. “How could you?” James spits. “We trusted you. We all trusted you!”

“You didn’t trust me,” Peter hisses back. “Not enough to tell me things. Not enough to talk to me.”

“So- so you-” But both Sirius and James seem too far in disbelief and anger to form words. Given the nature of the situation, Regulus guesses this is something they’ll have to process another time. 

Peter whirls on Regulus. “You were helping him escape.”

“Yes, well, as I said, there are two traitors here.” 

“The Dark Lord-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about loyalty. I’ll-” He raises his wand and Peter scampers back, reaching into his pocket. 

When he casts a spell, it’s not directed at Regulus. Instead, behind him, James falls to his knees. Regulus whirls around, shocked, as James’s eyes go wide.

“What-”

“It’s just-” Peter swallows, casting another spell that doesn’t seem to do anything. “It’s just a temporary paralyzer. James, I don’t want to hurt you, I-”

“You fucking bastard,” Sirius hisses, and Regulus disarms Peter before he can curse him too.

Regulus stoops down to grab Peter's wand and ignores the furious beating of his heart. “Sirius- take him and go before-”

“It’s too late,” Peter says from behind him. “Sirius, get out now. But James- the Dark Lord is expecting James.”

Regulus whirls on him. “What do you mean it’s too late?”

There are tears in Peter’s eyes, Regulus realizes. Shining and glistening with the light of the moon through the window. “Can’t you feel it?” he whispers, and Regulus’s arm explodes into pain.

He curls over, tucking it to his stomach and hissing through his teeth. When he yanks his sleeve up the mark turns and boils on his skin, snake slithering through the mouth of the skull. “Reg,” Sirius says, reaching out towards him, but the sense of overwhelming horror descending on Regulus blocks out everything else. 

“You bitch,” he hisses at Peter. “You called him here?”

“I don’t even have a mark,” Peter whispers. “But he taught me the spell.”

“What’s going on?” Sirius asks, and when Regulus looks at him he finds him kneeling by James, still on his knees on the floor. 

Regulus groans through another wave of pain. “Sirius- you have to-”

“He’ll be here any second,” Peter says, sounding scared yet determined. 

“Silencio,” Regulus hisses, watching as Peter’s mouth moves but no sound comes out. “Shut up. Shit. This is not good. This is very, very bad. Just- shit.” 

He turns back around. “Sirius, wait till someone else sees you and then put the cloak on, stand in the corner, and whatever happens, don’t make a sound. If you leave now James will have no chance, and I need you to be identified first.”

Sirius, eyes wide, nods and steps back. Regulus can see him shaking. Regulus kneels next to James, watching his lashes flutter, pupils dilated. “Hey,” He whispers, so softly no one else can hear him. “I told you, right? I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise you I’ll figure this out.” Above him, the stairs creak as someone comes down. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing his hand against James’s arm gently, just once. 

He stands and steps back, looking to Peter. “I hope you burn for this,” he hisses, and means it. Then light floods the room and he straightens instinctively, turning towards the stairs.

His cousin, followed shortly by both parents, stands blinking at the scene in front of them. Narcissa’s eyes flick from Sirius to Regulus to James on the ground and Peter against the wall. As soon as they see Sirius he vanishes beneath the cloak. Orion makes an angry sort of sound, stumbling forward but obviously confused. The door swings open and then shut and Orion curses lowly.

“Sirius?” Walburga asks, taking a step forward. “Regulus? Explain this. Now .” 

Regulus sucks in a breath and reigns everything in. “I caught Sirius trying to sneak Potter out. He somehow managed to get through the wards, I think because his magic is still connected to this house. Peter showed up just on time and we apprehended Potter and called the Dark Lord.”

“I figured that much out,” Narcissa says, raising her sleeve to show her arm. “I imagine he’ll be here any minute.”

Regulus forces himself to stay calm, nodding. His father steps forward. “You didn’t think to apprehend Sirius?”

“No, I-”

His father moves further into the room, looking around. “Where did he go? Did he- what-”

“I have no idea,” Regulus says.

“You let him escape. Weak.”

Lucius comes down the stairs after his wife, and Regulus curses the fact that Grimmauld Place has become a boarding house for Death Eaters. “What’s going on? Why are we being called?”

“The Potter boy was caught attempting to escape with Sirius, who vanished out the door.” 

“Fuck.”

Regulus moves to stand behind James, watching his shoulders tremble slightly. He desperately hopes the spell wears off soon, and hopes further that James knows enough to not let it show. “Do-” 

And then the door opens again, and this time everyone knows who to expect. It’s as if the room grows colder instantly. The Dark Lord, tall and imposing, shoves through. His cloaks drip with rain, Bellatrix and her husband close on his heels. Kreature, battered and bruised, follows limping after them. Regulus’s stomach drops at the sight of the cuts covering his small body.

Voldemort steps into the middle of the room, looking around slowly. Below him, James goes stiff. The Dark Lord waves a cool hand and the pain in Regulus’s forearm dissipates instantly. “That’s enough,” he rasps, and everyone in the room goes completely silent. 

Bellatrix and Rodolphus fall behind him, spreading out across the room. Bella’s eyes gleam and Regulus forces himself to look away.
Kreature makes a weak noise and falls to the ground. Everyone ignores him. 

“Explain.” The Dark Lord rasps, eyes only for Regulus.

“My Lord.” Regulus nods. “I caught my brother breaking into the wards and attempting to free Potter. As I’m sure my cousin told you, we captured him after the battle on the beach.”

“Sirius?” Voldemort asks cooly. “Did he escape?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Voldemort looks up, fixing his gaze on Walburga and Orion. “You didn’t think to block him from the wards?”

“I assumed that was automatic.” Orion says hesitantly.

“Well.” The Dark Lord tilts his head at James on the ground. “I appreciate you saving him for me.”

A shudder goes through Regulus at the words. “Of course.” 

“Why isn’t he moving or speaking?”

Regulus’s eyes find Peter, by the looks of it currently trying to fade into the back wall, and clears his throat. “I er- I paralyzed him, my Lord. In order to halt his escape.”

“I see.” Voldemort looks James over slowly, taking his time. “Interesting.”

“My Lord,” Bellatrix says, stepping out from behind him. “Might I suggest we loosen him up first?”

Voldemort says nothing and Bellatrix tries again. “Last time he was very receptive to a crucio.” 

“I think not,” Voldemort says thoughtfully. “After we get what we can from his head, you can have free reign, Bella.” 

She nods, placated, and the Dark Lord turns back to James. Regulus glances down, doing his best not to react when he sees James’s hand twitch and then oh so slowly reach towards his sock, hidden from Voldemort by the angle he’s positioned his body. 

“Should we wait till the paralysis wears off?” Regulus asks carefully. “Perhaps his mind will be-” 

“No, I think now is a good time,” Voldemort murmurs, moving forward. Regulus stiffens, reaching into his pocket and closing his hand around his wand. He can’t fight everyone in this room. There’s no possible way. 

But he will.

“Did you know it was one of our own that poisoned your father?” Voldemort asks, speaking directly to James. “I’ll admit, he lasted longer than we thought he would, but by the time your mother goes I imagine the point will be made.”

Regulus sees James stiffen and watches as his fingers close around his wand. Don’t be stupid, Regulus begs inwardly. Please, please, do not be a brash Gryffindor right now.

“Shall we see what you know?” Voldemort whispers, raising his wand.

And then there’s a flurry of motion and then James has his own wand out, pressed to his temple, and Regulus realizes what he’s about to do a second too late. “No-” 

“Obliviate.”

James slumps forward, bracing himself on all fours.

For a minute, no one in the room moves. And then Voldemort curses, straightening and stepping back. His eyes raise slowly to Regulus’s. “You let him have his wand?”

“No- no my Lord, of course not,” Regulus stammers, backing up. “He must’ve stolen it back while I was asleep.”

“He wasn’t restrained?”

“Of course he was. But when Sirius broke in he freed him.” Regulus looks back down at James. His chocolate eyes have gone all fuzzy, and the worst part is this isn’t the first time Regulus has seen that look on his face. Voldemort raises his wand again. Shit. Shit shit shit-

“Legilimens.” 

 

---

 

James can’t remember anything.

Well, obviously. That was the point.

At least he thinks that was the point.

Anything may be a stretch- he knows who he is, he knows where he is- he just has no idea why. He knows he should be somewhere else. He knows he’s in danger. He knows there’s something he’s not supposed to know. 

He knows Regulus.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know anyone except himself. 

Some moments he thinks he has something, a memory, a face, but then it’s gone again. Why did he do this to himself? 

And then suddenly he knows that there’s someone else in his mind, poking around and prodding at all his little corners. It’s a horrible feeling, violating and itchy and something James needs gone right now. 

They’re looking for something, that much is obvious, but James genuinely has nothing to offer. He thinks distantly that that’s a good thing, and a small thrill of victory runs down his spine.

Then the horrible presence is gone and Voldmort moves back, evidently unhappy. He lowers his wand and James gags, shivering.

“Nothing. The idiot- I can’t get anything from him. Narcissa, this is your specialty. You try.”

“My Lord, some obviated minds can’t be-”

“His is fresh. And don’t think I haven’t done my reading- I know minds are easier to recover when it’s only a partial wipe.”

Then the woman is stepping forward, and the boy- Regulus- walks around till he’s facing him. He looks scared. Really scared. Narcissa, assumedly, raises her wand, and James grits his teeth as he prepares for another invasion. 

She’s in his head in a second, but she doesn’t take the same approach Voldemort did. Instead she follows the thread of things James does know, and that’s a lot more terrifying. She traces the lines of memories down, connecting the dots until she finds the point where they come to a stop. And then… 

And then she pushes. 

Her magic turns sharp, pressing, like a knife put to the edges of his mind. He flinches back, distantly aware of the drag of his knees on the carpet. She presses harder, her essence white hot and blinding, and James feels the layer of distortion he cast over himself start to split. No no no no-

The knife of her magic cuts through him, cutting harder and harder, and soon enough memories start to flood through. He cries out in agony, fingers digging into the threads of the rug beneath him. The Order, Dumbeldore, Sirius, Regulus-

Her magic comes to a halting stop. 

Narcissa’s eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. He watches her gaze flick towards her cousin next to her.

Fuck.

Now memories of Regulus are pouring forth. Him telling James about the beach, rescuing James from the claws of Bellatrix and keeping him safe, explaining the nature of his allegiance.

Narcissa makes a soft sound and James watches Regulus’s face go white as a sheet. The cousins stare at each other, and every last bit of hope inside James crumbles to dust.

Then she’s looking back at him and her magic shifts, changing, following the train of thought. He groans and tips his head forward in pain. More paths. More barriers. Maybe he isn’t very good at memory charms if they’re this easily broken. She has access to anything she wants- and all James can do is sit there and let her in. 

She explores, looking through distant thoughts and whatever tucked away secrets James has. Then she goes back to Regulus, his betrayal, his loyalty, and follows that path as far as she can. 

That's when something interesting happens. 

He feels her hit another wall. A wall he didn’t even know was there. It’s solid yet undefinable- halting all further progress. 

But as soon as her magic touches that lack of memory- that blank space- James’s insides erupt into fire. That ache, that foreign and horrendous feeling that’s been infesting him for months, comes back with a vengeance, and it’s suddenly the worst it’s ever been. James can’t breathe through the pain, through the confusion, and it’s all he can do to keep Walburga’s terrible soup down. 

Narcissa’s eyes widen before narrowing in on him, and she takes a step closer. 

She presses harder against that horrible spot, and James cries out before he can stop himself. Her magic narrows and focuses, preparing to strike, and James doesn't think he’ll ever be ready.

But-

But. 

But somewhere, past the pain and confusion and agony, he knows this is it. 

He knows this is what he’s been missing. 

He knows this blank space in his head is the same as the one in his chest. 

And it hurts, it does, it hurts like nothing he’s ever felt before and yet- 

And yet he needs to know. 

He needs this to end, one way or another. 

So when she presses forward, ripping through a barrier that feels like it’s the skin around his ribs, around his heart, around his skull, he lets her.

And-

---

 

“Leave.” 

“Somehow that’s how you’ve started every one of our little interactions.”

“Wonder why. You’d think you’d get the hint.”

“You don’t own this broom closet.”

“What did you just say?”

“I mean- I’m pretty sure that all broom closets in the school are open to student use. All students. And I’m a student, last time I checked, so-”

“Get out.”

 

---

 

“Why are you here?”

“Maybe I wanted to practice. Maybe I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Potter, it’s cold out. And past curfew.”

“I know. Your cheek- this morning at breakfast… it, like, flickered. I thought you couldn’t heal it. Did you glamour it?”

“Something like that.” 

 

---

 

“I… you can’t have come genuinely thinking I could make you feel better. I mean…me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I do have an actual reason.” 

“What’s that?”

“I need you to find a cure for Dragon Pox.”

 

---

 

“Lucky for you, I brought us some bread pudding.”

“... Bread pudding? Like from dinner?”

“I went to the kitchens. The house elves helped me wrap it up.”

“Potter, this is not a picnic.”

“It’ll make you feel better. Besides, we need nutrition for healthy functioning brains.”

“I don’t think your brain can function. Ever.”

“Just eat.”

 

---

 

“You can’t save everyone, Potter.” 

“Ok.” 

“Ok?”

“I won’t try to save you.”

“...Ok.”

 

---

 

“You mean- he’s recovering?”

 “He’s something .” 

“It’s working?”

“It’s working.” 

“Oh.”

 

---

 

“We can’t tell anyone, can’t talk to each other in the hall, or look at each other during meals. This is all we get, James. We get the come and go room and locked classrooms, secret meetings where nobody can find us. That’s all we have.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s all we get.”

“That’s not true.”

“...What?”

“We get this. You get me. Every part of me.”

 

---

 

“You’re such a bad idea, Potter.”

“But?”

“But.”

 

---

 

“Regulus, I- thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“No one’s ever- I mean. No one’s ever wanted me before.” 

“...That’s because they’re all fucking idiots.”

 

---

 

“I… I don’t think I’m good, James.”

“You are.”

“I’m not, though. Sometimes- sometimes I feel like the devil’s greatest ally. Sometimes I think he’s trying to find me, to drag me back down where I belong.”

“If the devil is after you, he’ll want me just as much.”

“Why’s that?”

“I love you.”

“I suppose there’s no greater sin.”

“For you I would burn, Regulus Black.”

 

---

 

"Regulus-"

"I figured- I figured I was Icarus, in the story. I thought I was going to fall because I couldn’t get out of this labyrinth. But you- risking it all for me- I can’t give you wings, James. I can’t even let you build them yourself. Watching them melt would destroy me.”

“You’re the love of my life.” 

“Reg, wai-”

"Obliviate."

 

---

 

Slowly, so slowly, James drags his gaze up to meet Regulus's.

Their eyes lock.

And James remembers. 

Notes:

So.
Yay!
lol I made it ten chapters before I was like nah im sick of this shit. I can't resist them guys im sorry
Cliffhanger how we feeling???
also okay so idk how obvious it is that I know nothing about how magic works, be that wards or ligilimency, but if you could please just let any inaccuracies slide thanks I used it to shape my plot
I am now realizing how many times Regulus cried throughout this chapter. whatever give him a break he misses Evan. Also!! in my mind all emotional reactions to the situations in last chapter and this one have been kind of delayed or put on pause bc for them this has been two straight days of pure adrenaline one way or another lol
Okay let me know what you think!!!!

Chapter 61: Memory

Regulus stares at James.

James stares back. 

And Regulus knows. 

There’s so much unbearable pain in James’s expression that Regulus has to close his eyes against the sight. He aches, deep inside, with some low lying guilt that claws at his ribs.

Narcissa takes a few steps back, more shocked than he’s ever seen her. Her eyes meet Regulus’s, who shrinks back in fear. “Please,” he mouths silently. 

He can’t imagine what she’s thinking right now. She could very easily tell the Dark Lord everything, and they’d both be dead on the spot. But if James remembers Regulus, then he also remembers the horcruxes. Which now means Narcissa knows about those too- and that makes her a threat. 

James makes a low sound and then gags, crawling to the side and vomiting onto the wood tiles. Regulus winces, flinching forward to help him before remembering his place. “Well?” Voldemort demands.

Narcissa clears her throat. “Still- still looking, my lord. He did a thorough job on himself.” 

Regulus turns to Kreature, still battered in a heap on the ground. “Kreature. Clean up Potter’s sick.”

Kreature blinks, pushing himself up on frail, tiny arms. “Of-of course, Master.” 

He hobbles over to James and snaps his fingers. The mess on the floor disappears instantly and Kreature makes a weak sound before slumping into the wall and sliding back down. Regulus feels bad for straining him, but now he’s a little closer to the corner where Regulus wants him. 

At first, he thought his brother escaped. But then, as he watched, the air in the corner rippled and distorted, just barely, and Regulus knew the door trick was just a decoy. Now he hopes Sirius has the brains to put two and two together as Regulus pointedly looks from the corner to Kreature and back up.

James gasps out a pitiful sort of sound that has Regulus’s heart clenching. “Reg,” he chokes, pushing himself up onto all fours.

Narcissa raises her wand again and James falls onto his elbows, eyes squeezed tight. “Cissa,” Regulus breathes softly. She doesn’t acknowledge him, gaze focused on James.

James looks up at Regulus and his eyes swim with tears. He opens his mouth, and-  

Everything happens all at once. The air distorts as Sirius rips off the cloak, casting a shield charm instantly and darting forward. Through the exclamations of surprise that echo around the room, he grabs James’s arm and tugs him forward. “Kreature, take us to Godric’s Hollow, maintenant-”

“Stupefy!” Bellatrix cries immediately, but the spell just bounces off the Protego. The Dark Lord makes a low growling sound and darkness pools around him as he raises his wand. Kreature’s eyes widen, then narrow, and Regulus knows he’ll refuse to listen to Sirius.

Whatever.

He was planning on dying tonight anyway. 

“Now, Kreature.” He says, with as much authority as he can muster. He hears the command in his voice, a tone he’s never taken with the elf before. Serious. Deadly. Kreature reacts instinctively, a puppet bound to obey the Black heir, grabbing James and Sirius and disappearing with a pop. 

The whole ordeal couldn’t have taken more than five seconds. 

For a moment, there’s silence. 

And then Lucius cries out in rage, stalking forward with his wand raised. “What the fuck just happened?”

“He- Kreature-” Walburga looks around, obviously confused.

Narcissa puts her head in her hands. Regulus can’t see her expression. 

And Voldemort- Voldmort is staring at Regulus. 

Regulus swallows. “They got away,” He manages stupidly, because he knows he needs to say something. 

Bellatrix moves towards him. “You told that bastard elf to do it. Why- why would you-”

Regulus takes a few steps back, heart rising into his throat. “No I didn’t. What-”

“You said ‘now, Kreature.’ I heard you. We all heard you. You’ll die for this- you will-” 

“I said ‘no, Kreature’,” Regulus corrects calmly, keeping his voice cool. “No. Not now. He made that choice on his own. In what world would I help them escape?” 

Mercifully, Narcissa stays silent, head still buried in her hands. Regulus decides to let her think for a minute. 

“How did we not know he was still in the room?” Walburga asks, voice shaky. 

Rodolphus sighs. “I don’t-”

“Silence.” The Dark Lord’s voice settles over them like a gaseous cloud, thick and heavy and deadly. Everyone complies instantly.

“That was a fluke. A… miscalculation. Not a word of this night will be spoken to anyone outside of this room. We can not have this compromising our image. Walburga and Orion, go out and strengthen your wards. If this is to be the base of our operations, we can not have ex-family members coming and going as they please.” The Dark Lord’s eyes glint. “Unless you’d prefer I’d find other accommodations for our meetings. The Malfoy’s have a lovely parlor.”

“No, of course not my Lord,” Walburga and Orion exchange a glance before bustling towards the door. 

“Bella. Take Rodolphus and Lucius and go secure the wider perimeter around the house. I doubt the elf would’ve made a mistake, but he has been weakened. There’s a chance we can still catch them.”

“But-”

“Now, Bella.”

They exit, muttering to each other.

Regulus and Narcissa stand stiff as boards, neither moving from their spot. Narcissa lifts her head from her hands, taking a deep inhale that echoes in the silence of the room. 

She turns fully around to face Regulus, staring at him intently. Regulus stares right on back, begging with his eyes. He can’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say. His fate is in her hands now. 

Slowly, so slowly, he shifts his arm until it pulls up his sleeve a bit, revealing just the edge of Alphard’s gold bracelet. It’s the one she gifted him so long ago, on the bench in the rain. 

He sees her eyes fix on it and widen, just slightly. 

“Well?” Voldemort asks, voice cold. “What did you get from him?”

Narcissa’s eyes flick from the bracelet to meet Regulus’s one last time. Slowly she turns back around to face the Dark Lord.

“Nothing,” She says, because she is a Death Eater with a marked arm but also his cousin. And for someone to whom blood matters so much, Regulus is glad she recognizes him as her own. 

He lets out a harsh exhale of breath that goes ignored by both Narcissa and the Dark Lord. There’s a soft feeling turning circles inside his stomach, warm and unfamiliar, and even if this doesn’t work and the Dark Lord smites him on the spot, he almost wants to smile. 

“Nothing?” Voldemort takes a step closer. Narcissa holds her ground.

“The memory charm was too strong. He must’ve studied. I was getting somewhere, though. Had I had more time, I definitely would’ve broken through.”

The Dark Lord pulls up short right in front of her, lifting a long fingered hand to clasp at her chin, tilting it up slightly. Her shiny blond hair falls down her back and Regulus keeps his face neutral, a practiced mask he hasn’t needed in a while. 

“Ligilimens,” The Dark Lord breathes, faces inches away from hers. Narcissa’s eyelashes flutter closed and Regulus can see them both concentrating, the Dark Lord searching her face as Narcissa focuses on the inward struggle. Regulus might be trembling. He doesn't think he’s stopped since Pettigrew opened that door.

Pettigrew. 

Shit. 

Regulus turns to the wall, blinking when all he finds is a pile of clothes and nothing more. 

A problem for another day, he decides, focusing back on the life-ending trial happening in front of him. ​​The Dark Lord steps back and Narcissa calmly opens her eyes, focusing on the figure in front of her. “As I said, there was nothing to be found.” Her voice stays level and straightforward, and Regulus admires her constitution. 

The Dark Lord looks to Regulus. What do you know? He hisses in parseltounge. 

Regulus holds his gaze. Nothing. 

The Dark Lord nods slowly, stepping back. “What a shame. In that case, I have business to attend to. See that your elf comes back. I’ll have some questions.” 

“Yes my lord,” Regulus whispers. 

The Dark Lord looks them over once more before moving to the door and vanishing into the night. 

For a long, long second, neither of them speak. Narcissa turns to Regulus slowly, eyes locking on his. When she speaks it’s as cool and measured as before.

“You’re welcome.”

Regulus nods, still unable to form words, unable to breathe- “Thank you, thank you, I- I don’t-” 

“Regulus.”

“Yes?”

“You have two days to get out of this house.” And then she turns and walks off, shoes clicking on the floor. 

 

---

 

Remus sits on the couch, knee bouncing, focusing on the carpet. He’s filled with nerves, already resigned to the worst. “It’s taking too long,” He mutters lowly. 

“He’s fine.” Effie says quietly. “They’re both fine.”

On the wall, the clock ticks. 

“We shouldn’t have let him go alone.”

“We had to.”

“Still-”

And then with a loud pop and a shout Sirius and James crash into the middle of the living room, a small elf gripping their arms. 

Remus jumps up, flooded with relief, rushing forward. Sirius coughs and forces himself to his feet, swaying a bit. The house elf, Kreature, Remus thinks, looks around in disgust. He vanishes with another pop almost immediately. 

“Sirius-” Remus gasps, rushing forward. “Prongs-”

James makes a sound and then scrambles to his feet, running into the kitchen and vomiting into the sink. Effie sucks in a breath and moves towards him, but he flinches away from her hand. 

Sirius grabs Remus and he can feel him shaking, trembling with something Remus can’t quite name yet. Remus holds him back, closing his arms around him and silently vowing never to let him go again. 

“What- what happened? Is everyone okay?”

“We- we got caught-” Sirius breathes.

“Who?”

“Peter,” he chokes, tipping forward to bury his head in Remus’s chest. 

Remus doesn’t have time to figure that out. “What- who- James, are you alright?”

James shudders over the sink again, pressing a hand to his head. 

“James?”

Sirius shifts next to Remus. “Voldemort- he…”

“What? What did he do?”

James turns then, and Remus takes a step back at the expression on his face. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, filled with tears and more anger and sadness than Remus has ever seen in a person. He’s shaking, visibly, every inch of him trembling as he sinks to the ground in the middle of the kitchen, wrapping his arms around himself.

“James,” Effie whispers, kneeling next to him. 

There’s a sinking feeling in Remus’s stomach. 

“Prongs,” he tries again. When he gets no response, he turns to Sirius. “What happened?”

“Voldemort,” Sirius says again, eyes fixed on James. “Looked through his head. After he obliviated himself. And then Narcissa went in and undid it.”

“After he- she-” Remus can’t string a sentence together right now. Not when his suspicions are being confirmed. 

“She must’ve found something. She looked like she found something.” Sirius stares at James. “But this- I don’t know what this is.”

“Prongs,” Remus says, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“You knew,” James speaks up finally, voice barely a whisper, throat torn and raspy. “You knew .”

Remus takes a step back. 

Shit. 

“What’s going on?” Sirius asks slowly. "James, are you okay? That looked like... a lot. Can I-"

James holds himself tighter, tears collecting on his chin. “You knew. And- and you didn’t say anything. You let me- you let me talk about how I thought I was going insane and how I was losing my mind and you-” he breaks into a furious sob. “I took you to the Come and Go room. And you told me I had too much to drink.”

He curls over himself and Sirius detangles from Remus, kneeling next to him opposite from Effie. “Prongs, what happened? What are you talking about?”

James shoves away from both of them and stands, stumbling to the wall and pressing a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. Remus takes a step towards him and James flinches back. “I had to, James, I had no choice, you have to understand-”

“How could you do that to me?” James whispers. And then his face crumples, and he says something even worse. “How could he do that to me?” 

“He thought there was no other way. He thought you were going to get hurt, or taken, or-”

“I- he told me he loved me- he told me-” James curls into himself and Effie lets out a soft hum, rising from the floor. 

“He did!” Remus splays his hands desperately. “He does. He was protecting you.”

James shakes his head, obviously seconds away from a panic attack. “No- he- he wouldn’t- I-”

Sirius steps forward as Effie meets Remus’s eyes, upset but obviously resigned to watching. “What’s-” Sirius looks between them. “Is this about the mystery boy? From back in school?”

“Yes,” James spits. “I- fucking hell, Remus, I was in love with him. I- he- and you knew.”

“I had to,” Remus whispers, but he knows it’s not enough. 

“Why would he do that?” James breathes, sinking into the wall a little more.

“He thought it was the only thing to do.”

“I thought he cared about me. At least a little. At least enough.” 

“You know who it is?” Sirius asks, looking to Remus. 

James keeps mumbling. “And then- and then I asked him again, and he- he knew, and-”

“Prongs, are you okay?” Sirius reaches out to steady him, confused but obviously concerned. "Here, just lean on me-"

Remus isn’t sure what James is talking about, but if it’s true and all his memories came back he imagines it’ll take some time to adjust to them. “James, just take a deep breath. Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna need some answers,” Sirius says, half supporting James.

“Sirius,” Effie says softly. 

James sucks in a breath but it sounds too short and he presses a hand to his chest, gasping. Remus bites his lip. This is bad. “Breathe,” he says again.

“Don’t- don’t you dare tell me what to do,” James gasps. “Not- not after- shit. I thought. How could he-” And then his eyes go wide and he stumbles forward “Narcissa, she saw. She knows. Everything.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sirius asks. “What does she know? What does it matter?”

“It means he’s in danger,” James says, still not breathing right. A spark of panic lights up Remus’s insides because yes, actually, James is right. 

“Shit,” he curses. Fuck. They need to get Regulus out of that house.  

“You really have to help me out here,” Sirius laughs, but it comes out humorless and scared. “Your boy? Why would he be in danger because of Narcissa?”

James turns to him, face white as a sheet. “Because we just left him in there with her.”

Remus watches as Sirius processes, realization creeping across his face. He can see the exact moment it clicks when his eyes widen and he takes a large step back. “No.”

“I can’t- Remus,” James manages, looking up at him with a tear-filled gaze. “Remus, we need to get him out. I can’t- I can’t lose him again.”

There’s something wild and unfocused in James’s eyes, and the way he’s tilting tells Remus he’s about to tip over. “You need to sit down,” he says cautiously.

“My head-”

“I know. Breathe, all right?”

“No.” Sirius cuts through, stalking forward. Remus doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on his face. “No, James, look at me.” 

James flinches away from him, pressing a hand over his glasses. Sirius reaches up and grabs his wrist, yanking it away from his face. “Look at me.” 

“Sirius-” Remus and Effie exchange a glance.

“Not Regulus.” Sirius says, voice dangerously low. “Tell me your mystery boy is not Reg.”

James gasps again at the name, and Remus can’t even begin to imagine what's happening in his head. “James,” Sirius repeats. “Tell me you aren’t fucking my little brother.”

“Sirius.” Effie cuts in sternly, pulling him back. “Not now.”

“Yes, now,” Sirius looks furious, eyes blazing as his chest heaves. “Right bloody now. I- I can’t even- it’s not true, right? He’s-”

More and more dots seem to connect as Sirius backs up slowly. “That's why he told you about the beach. That's why you never told me who it was. Shit, that’s why he told us how to rescue you.” His eyes widen. “You were- you were with him for two days.”

James chokes, sliding down the wall with his hands pressed to his forehead. Effie kneels in front of him. “Sweetheart, does-”

“Hurts,” James whimpers, curling his arms around himself. 

“Sirius,” Remus says, because while yes, this is a huge betrayal, Sirius doesn’t have all the facts. Additionally, this is a horrible time to be having this conversation. 

“No. It’s not true, right?” Sirius turns to look pleadingly at Remus, who just winces. Sirius' expression shifts as they look at eachother. “You knew. You knew. That’s- what- you knew?”

“He knew fucking everything.” James spits from the ground.

Remus takes a few steps back, a lump forming in his throat. He swallows quickly. “That’s not fair,” he whispers. “That’s not fair. I was keeping the secret you asked me to keep, James. And then I was keeping the secret Regulus asked me to keep. I wasn’t- neither of these things were mine to tell.”

“Regulus asked you to keep a secret too?” Sirius’s expression is pure fire. “What, are you in love with him as well, then?”

“No, I-”

“Boys,” Effie cuts in, standing and raising her voice. “ Stop . All of you, shut up. Regulus can take care of himself. Sirius, I understand. But now is absolutely not the time. Remus, we’ll figure this out.”

James forces himself to his feet then, stumbling and walking off down the hallway. “James,” Remus calls. “Where are you going?”

James turns, swallowing and bracing one hand on the wall. His chest is still moving in a weird rhythm. “My bed,” He says carefully, like every word takes effort.

“Why?”

“Because,” he manages, sounding wreaked. “I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out, and I don’t want to do that in the middle of the hallway.”

Both Sirius and Remus rush forward as James’s knees buckle. 

 

---

 

James dreams only of Regulus. He isn’t quite sure which is a fantasy and which a memory. They’re all tangled up in his head, swirling and mixing together until all he can do is let himself get swept away by flashes of grey eyes and curly hair and soft words. It's not a dream, though, not anymore. 

No. This is a nightmare. 

Maybe, he thinks as he drifts, it always has been.

 

---

 

Effie shuts James’s door and turns back to the two boys. She looks tired and Remus’s heart clenches. “He needs to sleep,” She says softly. “His mind needs to sort itself out.” She looks between them. “I need to talk to Dumbledore and Moody about this. I don’t want them here, though, so I’m going to them. Don’t kill each other. And for merlin's sake, talk.”

“Peter,” Sirius croaks. “Tell Dumbledore it’s Peter.” 

Effie nods once and then leaves, disapperating once she gets past the wards. 

Remus glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He keeps his mouth shut.

Sirius refuses to look at him. Remus sighs. “Effie’s right. We need to talk.”

“I don’t feel like talking right now.”

Remus turns to him, exasperated. “Sirius, I’d love to give you space, but you need to be prepared for when James wakes up.”

“I am prepared. I’m going to murder him the second he opens his eyes.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “He’s- he’s confused. Sirius-”

“Don’t say my name right now.”

“Regulus obliviated him.” Remus says finally. 

Sirius, still staring straight ahead, blinks a few times. Then he turns to look at Remus. “No, he did it to himself. I saw.”

“Earlier. Back at school. Regulus obliviated him and erased all his memories of their relationship.” 

Sirius’s eyes widen, just slightly. He lets out a huff, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “I- I need a second. Just. Just give me a second.”

Remus nods, resigned. Sirius turns and walks off, disappearing into the kitchen.

Remus sighs, dropping his head into his hands. How did everything manage to fall apart in five minutes? Everything? And Peter- what about him? What happened at Grimmauld Place?

What happened to James?

After a few minutes Remus follows Sirius around the corner. He finds him sitting on the floor of the kitchen against the cupboards, cupping a glass of water.

“Sirius.” Remus says from the doorway. 

Sirius doesn’t look at him. “One time, before Monty died, I freaked out about something. The will, I think. And James and I sat here until I was okay again. And before that, when I found out James hadn’t told me about the sickness, we made up on this floor. And now-” Sirius cuts himself off, taking a long sip of his water.

“Me and James always find each other here. Or James finds me.” He looks down, sighing. “I guess that hasn’t changed, technically. I never thought… I just…” 

Remus steps closer cautiously, sinking down opposite him. “It can still be the same. You don’t have to- nothing’s changed. Not really.”

Sirius shakes his head, looking miserable. “It has, though. Because now I know. Now I know he’s a liar. Why… why is he always lying to me?”

“Because he knew you’d react like this,” Remus says slowly. “And he was scared. If he had told you about him and Regulus, what would you have done?”

Sirius shrugs. “Killed them both, probably.”

Remus smiles, a little sad. “Right.”

“So it’s true, then,” Sirius says, letting his head fall back against the cupboard. “They… James and Regulus…”

“It’s true.”

“And you knew.”

“And I knew.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

Remus bites his lip. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.” 

Neither of them speak. Remus frowns. “Sirius, I need to know what happened back there.”

Sirius’s expression darkens. “I found them in Reg’s bedroom. They had no trousers on, which, now that I think about it- anyway. Then we got to the door, and I asked Reg to come with us, and he said no, and then- and then Peter opened it from the outside.” 

There it is again.

“Peter?”

Sirius’s eyes well with tears, sudden and shocking. “He’s the traitor,” he whispers, voice cracking. 

“No, he-”

“He got through the wards. He paralyzed James. He called Voldemort.”

“He wouldn’t. Maybe-”

“Remus. I saw it. We all did.” 

Remus sucks in a breath, pain spiking through him so viciously he can’t find air. “What- why-”

“I have no idea. I don’t- I don’t know.”

Remus forces himself to push through it. “And then…”

Sirius shrugs. “And then I hid behind the robe, Voldemort showed up, and James obliviated himself.”

Remus raises his brows. “And Regulus let him?”

“He didn’t look happy about it, but he wasn’t really in a position to argue. Why?”

“Just seems… dangerous.”

“It was smart.”

“Objectively, yes, but no. Not really. Sirius- don’t you want to know why James was so messed up just now?”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything concerning him anymore.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius blinks quickly and looks away. “Fine.”

“Back at school, Regulus tried to break things off with James after he got the mark. But James wouldn’t go. So Regulus obliviated him. Just the memories of their relationship. That’s why James has been so off these past months.”

Sirius stares at him. “What- what? Really?”

“Really.”

“Reg- what?”

“He thought it was the only way.”

Sirius sets down his glass of water. “So back at Grimmauld Place- with Narcissa-”

“She unlocked whatever spell he cast on himself, but also Regulus’s. That’s why James was- well. You saw.”

Sirius closes his eyes briefly. “He really did it, didn’t he.” 

“He did.” 

“So for these past months… all the spacing out and the confusing conversations…”

“Yeah.”

"Is he okay?" Sirius seems to forget his anger for a moment, genuine concern creeping back in. "I didn't know-"

"I know you didn't. And as far as how he is, I mean. You saw."

“And James and Regulus…”

Remus just nods. 

“Why? Why him?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for years.”

“How… how did it start?”

Remus thinks back. “Let's see. James asked Regulus to make potions for Monty. I think that’s what started it.”

“What?”

Remus blinks. Right. Sirius was really behind. “Those special potions that Monty was taking? The reason he wasn’t getting worse? That was all Regulus.”

“...What?”

“This must be confusing. I know it’s a lot. I-”

“But- no, wait, because-” Sirius shudders, staring at the ground. “What the fuck,” he hisses to himself. 

“It was- it was actually incredibly good of him, now that I think about it. It’s why Monty lived so long. Until he stopped taking them, of course.” 

“He didn’t tell me,” Sirius breathes. “No one told me. Reg, James, you- did everyone know?”

“No,” Remus says quickly. “Just me. As far as I know. And Effie.”

“Effie,” Sirius says, and it sounds like a punch to the gut.

“Not- not really. Not until yesterday.”

“But she knew about the potions.”

“Yes.”

“And Monty did too.”

“...Obviously.”

“So I was the only one in this house who didn’t know what Regulus was doing. Great.” Sirius squeezes his hands into fists and looks down. “Bloody hell. Why? Why would Regulus do that?”

“I think, if I’m being honest, because James asked him to.”

“Naturally.”

Remus winces. “I’m sorry, Pads.”

“Don’t.”

“But I am. I really am. I- I couldn’t… It’s like I said, it wasn’t my secret to tell. I- James was so happy. So happy. I couldn’t ruin that for him.”

“And you thought telling me would ruin it.”

“I thought… yeah.”

“Right.” 

“Right.”

Sirius rises, steadying himself on the counter. “Regulus really obliviated him?”

“Haven’t you noticed?”

“I guess I have. I just never thought it could be anything like that. I thought it was just the war getting to him.” 

“No. Or, not only. It was deeper than that.”

“Because they were really together?”

“Yes.”

Sirius nods, letting out a low breath. “I’m going to… go. Now.”

“Where?”

“Just. I just need some time.”

“Sirius-”

“Not now, Remus. Please.” 

Remus swallows, standing too. “Are you still mad at me?” He asks stupidly, sounding childish.

Sirius doesn’t look at him, putting his glass in the sink. “Yes.” 

“Can I do something?”

“No. Not right now.”

Remus shifts on his feet. “Sirius. James fucked up. He knows that. He hated keeping that secret. But right now- Just- when he wakes up, give him a moment to breathe. He’s probably so confused. I can’t imagine-”

“Oh, yes, James, the poor baby.”

“ Sirius .”

Sirius huffs and rubs his eyes. “Yeah. I know. Fuck. This just- it sucks all around, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Remus can see the hurt in his eyes. The betrayal. 

Speaking of betrayal…

“Peter?” Remus croaks.

Sirius nods, tired. “I don’t- I don’t even know. We can talk about that later. I just… he knew James would be killed. He knew. And he still called him.” 

“That’s....” Remus, as to be expected, can’t find the words. 

Sirius nods. “Tell me when James wakes up.” He says, and then walks out. 

 

—

 

Regulus barely made it to his room before he collapsed into a chair, gasping. Every nerve in his body trembled with a fragile relief. He got James and Sirius out. They’re fine. Well. Fine might be a bit relative, but either way, they’re alive. 

They’re alive. 

He spends at least twenty minutes staring at the far wall and trying to convince his soul to re-enter his body. 

After a moment, there’s a knock on the door.

Narcissa stands with her arms crossed. Regulus sucks in a breath at the sight. “Cissa.” 

She looks him up and down, eyes hard. “He won’t be done. You know that, right? He never trusts anyone. Ever. You’ve given enough away tonight without my help. I hope you’re ready for his backlash.”

Regulus nods, eyes fixed on hers. “I am.”

“Good.” She reaches out to grab the doorknob. “Your memory charms could use some work. They’re very easily broken.”

He nods again, silent this time. She presses her lips into a thin line. "You're playing a dangerous game, Regulus."

He doesn't sleep well that night.

---

Sometime in the early morning, a soft ping wakes him up. He lifts his head blearily, focusing on the window. As he watches, another pebble bounces off the glass. He throws off his covers and moves to look through it. Seeing nothing on the street below, he decides to go down. The night bites at whatever skin he's left exposed, cold and punishing. He shivers in the darkness, one hand gripping his wand. 

“Reg,” Someone whispers, and Regulus glances up sharply.

There’s a flash of white-blond hair, a girl perched on the stone wall in the garden on the other side of the street. Something akin to happiness, bittersweet and aching, floods through him at the sight. “Pandora,” he breathes, and then he runs down the stairs and crashes into her in the middle of the street, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight. 

She hugs him back, shuddering in his embrace. “Regulus,” she whispers into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” He gasps. She smells the same. Looks the same, too. “How- how are you here?”

Pandora doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, just hugs him tighter. “I had to see you. I couldn’t wait. I snuck off from Hogsmead. I’ll go back in a minute. I just… I just needed to see you.”

Regulus fights past the lump that appears in his throat. “You heard, then.”

She untangles herself, steps back, and the dim streetlamps reflect off the tears glittering in her eyes. “I heard,” She chokes, and then she’s crying, sinking down in the middle of the road.

He joins her, knees to his chest as he squats in front of her. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright.”

She shakes her head, making a choked ugly sound that comes with tears and spit. “No. I thought- I thought I’d come and you’d tell me it wasn’t true- and he would- and he would be here, and-”

He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his voice steady. He fails. “Don’t do that. Don’t cry. Hey, Dora, it’ll be fine.”

“None of you were supposed to die,” She manages through her tears. 

“No,” He agrees, words tearing in half. “No. He was- he was such an idiot-”

“Such an idiot .” Pandora presses her palms to her eyes, shuddering in breath after breath in a horribly uneven pattern. “Why- why did he have to get himself killed?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus whispers. It feels so good to have someone who understands that Evan is worthy of grief. “I don’t know. I didn’t- I didn’t see how it started.” 

Pandora shudders and Regulus rubs her shoulder. “What happened?”

“Moody. He- I don’t know. They fought. Evan was injured- he couldn’t even lift his wand- and Moody…”

Pandora closes her eyes. Then she blinks and refocuses on him. “Barty?”

“He went after Moody. I haven’t seen him since.” 

“Oh, no.” 

Regulus lifts her by the shoulders, pulling her in for another hug. “I’ll find him. I’ll figure something out.”

“He’s never going to- I mean- him and Evan-”

“I know. Come on.” Regulus guides her back to the wall on the other side of the street, settling down next to her. She tips into him, still crying, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“No one at school knows or cares,” She says softly between tears. “No one knew him. Or liked him enough to miss him. They just think of him as some Death Eater who picked his battles.” 

“He never wanted this,” Regulus confesses. “He told me. This wasn’t- he was never doing this for the Dark Lord.”

“It was for Barty, wasn’t it?”

Regulus nods silently. Pandora swipes at her eyes. “It’s only been what, two days?”

Regulus blinks in surprise. “It’s felt like so much longer.”

She looks up at him. “How have you been holding up?”

He chuckles dryly. “I’ve been… busy.” 

“Tell me.”

So he does. And she listens.

“You had to keep Potter in your house for two days?”

“Yes, well, that wasn’t the tricky bit. Getting him out-”

“Why do you care so much?”

Regulus can feel the flush creeping across his cheeks. “So. Um.”

“Regulus.”

“Back at school…”

“Regulus.”

And then he tells her some more. And she listens to that too.

When he’s done she just stares at him, lips parted. “Wow,” She says slowly. 

He shrugs, then runs a hand through his hair. “It’s… I’m fine. I’m figuring it out. He’s out now. Safe. Probably a bit confused.”

“And this happened…”

“About seven hours ago.”

“Regulus!”

“What?”

“You should be sleeping. You must be exhausted.”

“Yes, well, you’re here, and I needed to see you.”

Pandora frowns. “If I had known…”

“I’m glad you came,” he says honestly. “I. It’s easier to talk about things with you.”

“Well, I’m going now, because I don’t want to get caught and because you absolutely need to sleep.” She slides off the wall and waits for him to join her, wiping her eyes one last time and taking in a shaky breath. “You’ll find Barty?” She says.

“Yes.”

“He hasn’t come back to school.”

“I assumed as much.”

She smiles, sad and sorrowful, placing one hand on Regulus’s cheek. “Go to bed,” She whispers. “And take care of yourself.” 

“Of course, Dora. Good night. Thank you for- thanks.”

She takes a step back, and with one more soft smile and a turn, vanishes into the night. 

Standing there in the middle of the dark street, Regulus wonders what he’d do without her. Sighing, he turns and climbs the steps back to Grimmauld Place. As he settles back under his covers, he realizes he’s already gotten used to the weight of James beside him. 

 

---

 

James wakes to the worst headache he’s ever had. He turns over in bed, pressing his hands to his forehead as he grits his teeth and buries his face in his pillows. For a minute all he can focus on is the pain and how to escape it. Then it recedes- just slightly- and he takes a shuddering breath. 

Regulus. 

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus, Regulus-

His heart beats in time with the throbbing in his head and he groans, fresh tears springing to his eyes. The emotions from yesterday stream in like a broken dam, anger and resentment and betrayal and hurt.

His memories drift back to him in pieces, broken and disjointed but there all the same. If he focuses on something, concentrating on a specific moment in time, he can flesh it out and bring it to the surface. When he looks at the situation as a whole it becomes muddy and thick in a terribly familiar way.

He remembers the first time he found Regulus hunched over that newspaper in the hallway. He doesn’t remember what the article was about, or why Regulus cared. And then there was the closet- which he now knows was the Basilisk’s fault, which reminds him about the Basilisk, and the chamber, and Regulus’s mission, and…

James has to stop, sitting up in bed and sucking in air. He swings his legs over the edge, because as angry as he is right now, Regulus is still trapped in that house with a vicious wizard that knows his secret. He’s angry with himself for passing out, upset for staying asleep so long while Regulus was probably dying on that carpet. 

He stands, dizzy and tilting, making his way slowly out the door and down the stairs towards the living room. It’s morning, sunlight streaming through the windows and casting the house in a warm glow. Dumbledore, Moody, his mother, Remus, and Sirius sit on the couches, talking quietly. Sirius has his knees to his chest, curled up in the corner, and James takes that moment to remember that he knows everything as well. He pictures his angry face from last night, eyes blazing with a hurt fury. He looks miserable, picking at a cushion and staring off into space. Remus has his legs crossed next to him, cupping a mug of tea and looking worried, glancing at Sirius sporadically. 

“He could be dangerous,” Moody growls, a fresh eyepatch dark against his skin. “If he spent two days in Grimmauld Place then-”

“James poses no threat,” Effie cuts in harshly. “What we need to worry about is Regulus. He’s the one still in danger.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore says calmly. “I’m quite curious about him as well.”

James clears his throat from the stairway, steadying himself on the wall. Everyone looks up. Effie rises from her seat a little. “James-”

“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” James says, voice scratchy.

Moody sits forward. “You aren’t cleared to be a part of this discussion until-”

“Narcissa knows,” James says, ignoring him. “She knows Regulus is a traitor. Which means the Dark Lord knows. Which means if he isn’t dead already, he’s in danger.” 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks, but James refuses to look at him. 

Instead his gaze flicks to Sirius’s, still curled up on the couch. Sirius looks away, and James’s heart sinks. He enters, standing shakily in front of everyone. “Well?” He snaps when no one moves. “What are we going to do?”

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbldore says calmly. “Regulus is valuable, certainly, but-”

James shakes his head, another burst of memories making his thoughts fuzzy. “Don’t. You’ve never had his best interest at heart. Not once. Sirius,” he says, turning to the boy on the couch pleadingly. “Sirius. Please. You have to agree with me. He needs help. Our help. You saw-”

“Yes,” Sirius grits. “I saw.”

“And Peter-”

“We aren’t talking about him right now.”

James frowns, biting his lip and shifting on the carpet. What were they talking about? What was the issue?

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus, Regulus, Reg-

“Regulus,” he manages, and gets more than a few odd looks from everyone in the room. “We can’t just leave him there. He’s the reason we’re both alive. He’s the reason we knew about the attack on the beach.”

“James. You should sit down," Effie says, getting up to lead him to a seat on the couch. He sinks onto it, still a little dizzy.

“Mr. Black can handle himself,” Dumbeldore says. “At least for the time being.”

“No…” James shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Remus says softly. James can’t bring himself to meet his eyes. Not now. Not like this.

“Regulus will be fine,” Sirius interrupts. “Now that Kreature's back there, he has a way out if he absolutely needs one.” 

“Thats… that’s true,” James concedes hesitantly.

Moody turns to him. “We need your account of everything that happened over the last two days. We have Sirius’s, but you were the one actually being held hostage.”

“Hardy,” Sirius grouses. Everyone ignores him.

“I- I was on the beach, and Malfoy grabbed me and took me to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. They wanted to see what I knew then but Regulus convinced them to wait till Voldemort got back, which gave us two days.”

“Right. And where was Voldemort at this time?” Dumbeldore asks.

“I don’t know. Some mission somewhere. He took the elf.”

“Kreature?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Proceed.”

“And then… I don't know. I waited around in his room for two days. Did you know-” He cuts himself off, eyeing the adults in front of him suspiciously. He’ll wait to tell them about Snape and the Horcruxes, he decides. He needs some leverage here. And besides, he’s not exactly sure who he can trust at the moment. 

“What?” Moody growls.

“Nothing.”

“No, you know something.”

James sets his jaw and stares at him. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“Boy-”

“James,” Effie interrupts. “How is your head? Do you need a potion?”

Lavender.

Sleeping potions.

Soft voices. 

Glowing constellations, high on the ceiling .

“No potions,” he says after a moment. “I want… I need...”

“Okay.” She nods, watching him, and James wonders if Remus filled her in or if she knew before he came back. Either way, it’s obvious she understands everything now. 

James looks back to Dumbledore. “So you wont get Regulus out?”

“At the moment, he’s not our priority.”

James just nods. “Do you need me for anything else?”

“Yes. What did Naricissa Malfoy find when she went through your head? About the Order, specifically.”

“I don’t know.” James says cooly. “Seemed like she got a little distracted.” 

Sirius huffs in the corner. Remus sighs.

“Could she have found anything important?”

“Other than Reg being a traitor? I’m not sure.” She knows about the Horcruxes, surely, but James doesn’t tell them that part. 

“Alright.” 

“And P-” he sucks in a breath. “Peter?” 

“Now that his cover’s blown we likely won't see him again for a while.” Moody says. “We have people looking.”

James nods one last time before rising, looking around at everyone. “I’m going back to my room,” he says, and walks out. 

He barely settles back down onto his bed before there’s a knock at the door. He closes his eyes briefly before responding. “Come in.”

Remus opens the door slightly sheepishly, taking a timid step into the room and shutting it behind him. James immediately looks away, staring at the wall and clenching his jaw. “What.”

“James. We should talk. You know we should.” 

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“I couldn’t have told you. It wouldn’t have worked. The spell was good. I first found out he’d done it when you kept forgetting everything I was saying to you. You wouldn’t have believed me and you wouldn’t have remembered.”

James smooths his covers over with one hand. “Did you ever try?”

“...It would’ve hurt you.”

“Right.”

Remus takes a few more steps towards him. “I want you to understand, though. Why I couldn’t.”

“I don’t. I can’t.” 

“Regulus asked me to.”

“Oh, and I suppose Regulus gets everything he wants.”

“James. Try to listen to me. It wouldn't matter if I told you. Both Regulus and I knew that. Besides- you never told Sirius.”

“Sirius didn’t need to know,” James says quickly. “He wasn’t one of the main two members of that relationship. I should’ve been able to make my own choices.”

“Yes, well, blame Regulus for that, not me. I couldn’t have told you if I tried.”

“But you didn’t try, did you?”

“Like I said, I knew it would be pointless. James, we’re going in circles.”

“My head hurts,” James says distantly. 

“I’m sure it does. What- How does it feel?”

“Everything keeps coming back to me in bits and then going away again. I can only pin certain things down at once.”

Remus sits down on the edge of the bed, a little ways away from him. “Do you have any questions?”

“Will you give me an honest answer?”

“Of course.”

James gives him a long look. Remus sighs and drops his head. “Yeah. I swear.” 

“Why did he do it?” James says after a moment, still fixated on the opposite wall.

Remus sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. “Do you remember him trying to break up with you?”

“No.” And then: “…Yes.”

“Right. Do you remember refusing?”

“Yes.”

“Well. He told you about the hit on your head and you still refused to separate from him. In doing so you put both of you in danger. He thought the only option was to erase the relationship entirely.”

“But…” 

“But I guess it didn’t work, since you ended up getting kidnapped anyway.” 

“And so he knew. Everything. All this time. At the concert. And on the beach. And these past two days.”

“...Yeah. I guess.” 

“And he didn’t say anything.”

“What could he have said?”

James frowns. “Literally anything. Anything at all. He let me flirt with him for so long-”

“ Really , Prongs?”

“He let me sleep in his bed-.”

“Well. I can't condone that.” 

“Shit, he let me shag him-”

“James!” Remus looks positively scandalized, shooting up from the bed. “You were with him for two days. Two . And you-”

James frowns, flopping back on the mattress and covering his eyes with his arms. “Memory or not, he’s very… enticing.” 

“You two fucked? Seriously?”

James smirks. “Sirius was not involved.”

Remus ignores him. “And this was before you remembered?”

“Yeah.” James scrubs at his face. 

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m wondering.”

“That just seems like… like torture.” Remus pauses, looking down at him. 

“For him?”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I just mean- he still has all those memories, right? He still knows. So something like that probably mattered a lot more to him than you. And he knew that. And did it anyway.”

James sits up a bit, thinking it over. “He wouldn’t let me kiss him.”

“Why?”

“He said that would make it real.”

Remus rubs his forehead. “Oh. Oh, Regulus. Idiot.”

“What did he mean? Why-”

“James, think about this. He knew you couldn't remember your relationship, but he did. Saying a kiss would make it real? He thought you… I mean…”

James sits all the way upright, scandalized. “I wouldn’t! I- that was- I’ve fancied him for months. I mean- shit-” he presses a hand to his head, wincing. “Years. It’s been years, hasn’t it?”

“Around two, yeah.”

“Yeah. Years then. I- that didn’t mean nothing to me. I told him. I thought he understood-”

“You told him?”

“Yes. I thought I made it abundantly clear.”

“Well. He was very upset when you and Fabien…”

James blinks in shock. “How did he find out about that?”

“He saw your neck.”

“Shit.” James groans, rolling face down on his mattress. “At the concert. That’s why he got mad so suddenly.”

“Yes, well. I would be too.”

“Whatever. He doesn’t get to be upset. I didn’t… I mean… I didn’t know.” James remembers the ugly feeling of Fabian’s touch on his skin, innocent but so wrong for reasons he couldn’t name. Upon reflection, it did feel a bit like he was cheating. Even now, remembering sends shivers of guilt through him. 

“No,” Remus says. “You didn’t.” 

“Why didn’t he just fucking talk to me,” James whispers. “We had two days. Two. Why is he so insistent on being closed off?”

“He and his brother are eerily similar like that, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Remus says, slowly sitting back down. “Nevermind.”

At the mention of Sirius, James winces again. “Padfoot knows.”

“...he does.” 

“He’s not happy.”

“He isn’t.”

“At just me, or…”

Remus sighs. “Both of us. I… I’m not in great standing with either of you right now, am I?”

James chuckles drily. “No. Not really, if I’m being honest.” At the reminder, the pain of the past two days creeps back in slowly. His head starts pounding again and he groans, sitting up and tipping forward to rest his head on his knees. There are tears behind his eyes all of the sudden and he has no idea why.

“We need to get him out.” James whispers, ignoring the way his voice catches in his throat.

Remus takes a little breath and then hesitantly sets his hand on James's back. James flinches but lets him stay. “We’ll do something.”

Neither of them speak for at least two minutes. Silence, only cut through by James’s heavy breathing, creeps in thick and fuzzy. 

“Fuck.” James hisses finally, squeezing his eyes shut. He refuses to cry. There’s a pressing weight in his chest, one he’s been frantically ignoring since he got his memories back. Now, though, it finally materializes into words. “You wanna know the worst part?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’m still in love with him.” 

“...Were you ever not?” Remus asks, with the tone of someone who already knows the answer. 

“No. No, I don’t think so.” James mumbles. “I guess I just forgot I was supposed to be.” 

“I don’t think you did,” Remus says softly. “Not from what I could tell.”

James just shakes his head. “So you really knew everything.”

“I knew.”

“And you just watched.”

“...I did.”

“Why?”

Remus sighs. “I’ve told you.”

“I want a different answer, then.”

“Because you looked happier.”

“...what?”

“You just- you were so much more carefree, and you were laughing, and you seemed so…”

“So me breaking down in the hallway outside the Come and Go room was me being happier?”

Remus shifts on the bed. “No. No, by then I saw how much it was hurting you.”

“And even then you did nothing.”

“I need you to understand there was nothing to be done. I couldn’t have told you, James. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“If I was in your position I would’ve figured something out. I would’ve gotten him to reverse the spell, or come up with a counter, or taken you to someone who could.”

“Would you? Or would you have let your friend lead a safer, substantially more peaceful life without the constant pain of reminding him of something he would never be able to remember?”

James runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and trying to regulate his head. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Fine. Fine . I- I get it.” 

Remus eyes him suspiciously and nods. “It hurt you, didn’t it? Everytime you got confused or something doesn't quite add up?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Imagine what it would’ve felt like if I told you everything.”

James laughs, but it comes out a little dry. “Imagine what it felt like last night.” 

Remus frowns, big brown eyes filled with pity. “I can’t even begin to. James-”

“No. It’s- I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re confused. I can see it.”

James rubs his eyes under his glasses. “It’ll get better.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t bad right now.”

He’s right, of course. Every new realization or memory feels like a danger, slicing at the inside of his mind. What’s worse than the headache, though, is the numbing panic and discomfort that come with each one. He thinks of Regulus’s hands, soft and gentle, his laugh, his voice,  his eyes- and he needs him out of that house. 

“Shit,” he curses lowly. “I wish I could sort myself out.” 

“You will. Give it time.”

“Why would he do this to me?”

“I already told you.”

“I guess I never thought he’d hurt me like this. Not. Not Regulus.”

“He didn’t see it as hurting.”

James grimaces. “How could he not?”

“He thought you were better off without him.” 

“No. No- I-  I needed him. I-”

“Well.” Remus interrupts. “I can’t speak for him. You’d do better to ask him yourself.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” James says honestly. As much as every cell in his body craves to have Regulus here and safe, he thinks the sight of him might kill him. “What do I do about Sirius?”

Remus lets out a low hiss through his teeth. “I have no idea, mate. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what I should do, and I’m a lot better off than you.”

“Right.” James hates to admit it, but Sirius is not his top priority right now. Because at least he can see him. At least he knows he’s safe. “Oh, I’m going to kill him,” James groans.

“Who, Sirius? Why?”

“No. Regulus. And I think it’s fairly obvious why.”

Remus sighs. “I wish I could talk to him.”

“...Why?”

“I don’t even know. We just usually have very productive conversations, unlike everyone else in this place.” 

“Huh.” James lays back across the bed, situating himself so his head’s on his pillow. One day, he thinks, the ceiling will stop spinning. 

“You need sleep.”

“No I don’t. I just slept, like, that entire night.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t sound like you’ve been getting that much rest these past nights. Seems to me like you were busy with other activities.”

James cuts him a glare.  Remus just smiles. “Your head’s overflowing anyway, isn’t it? Give your subconscious time to reorganize. I’m going back to the conversation downstairs now. I want to make sure I’m up to date. Do you want to come?”

James shakes his head. Now that Remus brought it up, he does feel rather tired. “I… I don’t want them asking me questions. Not in front of Sirius. And I don’t want to listen to them talk about Reg like he’s a chess piece.”

“Okay. Take a nap, then. I’ll wake you for lunch.”

James nods, watching as Remus stands and makes his way to the door. He pauses at the frame. “And James?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry.”

“Yeah.”

 

---

 

Regulus takes a seat at the table, poking at his eggs. He’s, admittedly, not very good at cooking. The eggs have turned watery and pale, loose on his plate. He suddenly finds them very unappetizing. His father gives him a stern look as he walks into the kitchen. “Regulus. Will you eat that?”

“Oui.” Regulus pauses. “Has Kreature come back?”

“No. If you see him, let me know. The Dark Lord has asked for him again. I, personally, think he deserves a place on the wall for the stunt he pulled the other day, but who’s to say.”

“Do you know where he went the first time?”

“No. That is none of my business.” 

“Right.” Regulus spends a few more minutes poking at his eggs before sliding them into the bin. So much for dinner. 

Back in his room, he pulls out the bundle of fabric from under his bed and unwraps it. There’s the long fang, slightly chipped on the end, and the three vials of swirling green liquid resting on the cloth. He looks them over, just once, before tucking them back under the bed. He’ll be back for them. 

He makes his way downstairs and grabs some floo powder from the decorative vase near the fireplace. He steps in, frowning slightly at the ash on his shoes. He calls out an address and throws the powder at his feet. 

Floo travel has never been Regulus’s favorite. He’s a lot more adjusted to apparition, less accustomed to being thrown around through various networks of swirling flame. Regardless, it can be more convenient- and even easier- to be tossed out in the middle of a building rather than outside their wards. 

He stumbles out onto the cold tile of Rabastain's living room. Adjusting his robes he looks around, clearing his throat and shaking the last bit of powder from his hands. "Rabastain?" He calls, looking around. There's no response. He takes another few steps, frowning.

"What'chu want?" A gruff voice asks from the doorway. Rabastain, finally. 

"I'm looking for Barty." Regulus says, turning to him. "I heard he's staying here." 

"Yeah, maybe, but he's out right now. What do you want with him?"

"He's my friend."

Rabastain looks him up and down. "Muggle London, I presume. Probably getting pissed off his arse, but if you want to track him down that's where he'll be."

Regulus sucks in a breath and nods. "Okay. Okay." He takes a step. "How... how has he been?"

Rabastain frowns. "How should I know?"

Regulus tips his head in admission. "Okay. Thank you." 

Rabastian just turns and walks away. "See yourself out, will you?"

The pub isn’t too busy when Regulus gets there, but there are still people pouring out of the doors and scattered around the sidewalk. Regulus pauses for a moment and just looks, taking in the yellow light spilling from the windows and the couples in the alleyway. He wonders (hopes?) if Susan is here somewhere. After another moment of silent deliberation, Regulus steps inside.

He finds Barty at the bar, naturally. He’s got a cigarette dangling from his lips, smirking as he talks to some girl. She’s giggling, leaning closer, and Barty’s looking at her with dull eyes. Regulus steps up behind her, willing Barty to notice him. Barty glances up, finally, and his face falls.

Regulus clears his throat and the girl turns to look at him. “Hello?” 

“Hey. My friend’s a little busy, so I recommend you come back later.”

“But-”

“Later.” Regulus says, and something in his tone must get through to her because she scampers away quickly. Barty turns back to the bar, not looking at Regulus. He plucks out his cigarette and takes a swig from his glass. Regulus steps up next to him, silent.

“You found me,” Barty mutters eventually. “How?”

“Rabastian has loose lips. And besides, this is the same bar we went to that one time.” Regulus says. And if he looked through three others before remembering this one, well. Barty doesn’t need to know. 

Barty keeps his eyes firmly on the bar. “Why, then?”

“Because we’re all worried about you. And I haven’t seen you since the beach. I didn’t know if you were alive.” 

“Well,” Barty grits. “I’m right here.” 

“I can see that. Come on, at least sit down with me for a bit.” 

“I was actually having a good time before you showed up,” he says bitterly.

“I don’t care. Please.” Regulus tugs Barty’s elbow and he stumbles a bit but makes his way to a booth sliding in and setting his drink down in front of him. It’s not the same booth as last time, just one down. Regulus wonders if that was intentional. 

“What happened?” Regulus says eventually. “After the beach. Where did you go?”

Barty sucks in a breath, avoiding his eyes. “Moody vanished. I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“And then?”

“And you were gone too. And-”

“Right.” 

“And so I left.”

Regulus steels himself for the question he’s been avoiding. “Did you. I mean. Did you leave him there?”

Barty does look at him then, eyes glinting in the low light. “No. No . I- he. No.” 

“What did you do, then?”

“He’s safe. I took care of him. He’s- He’s- I gave him a proper burial.” 

Regulus swallows down the lump in his throat. “Where?”

Barty shrugs. “Some field.” 

“Will you show me sometime?”

Barty nods distantly, falling back against the booth. Regulus sighs. What do you say to someone who just lost everything there is to lose? “Where have you been living?

“Around. Wherever. It doesn’t matter.”

“Your father told me you haven’t been back since last year. Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

“No point. The old man doesn’t deserve the dignity of me caring.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Regulus asks, hoping desperately that Barty didn’t just internalize it just to let it brew. 

Barty taps his cigarette on an ashtray, face hard. “Yes.”

Regulus nods. “Good.” 

“Are you here for a reason?” Barty asks cooly.

“Yes.”

“Then get to it.”

Regulus fishes around in his pocket, hands closing around the stone. For the first time, he hesitates. There’s no doubt in his mind that Barty needs this more than he does. It’s obvious from the way his hand is trembling on his glass. And yet… 

No. He’s already apologized. He doesn’t need to wait on Harold’s forgiveness.

“Here,” Regulus says, carefully placing the stone on the table. “I thought you should have this.”

It’s more difficult than he thought, letting the stone go. Not only because of Harold, but because that’s the last tie Regulus has to Evan. Just because it didn’t work that once doesn’t mean it won’t in the future. He only tried once, after all. He could do more research, learn the story, try and find a way to channel its powers. But this, placing it down on the wood of the table, is relinquishing all its potential. It feels like letting go- something he’s distinctly not ready for.

He swallows again, biting his lip. “Do you know what it is?” he asks, voice breaking.

Barty stares at the stone, pupils blown wide. He doesn’t respond, but judging by the look on his face, Regulus guesses he does. “I won’t keep you,” Regulus says carefully, sliding from the booth. “I should go. I have something to do. A labyrinth to solve. But. Take care of yourself, okay?” He stands, pausing for a minute “And Barty?”

The other boy doesn’t look at him, but Regulus doesn’t need him to. “Can you tell Evan I love him?” He asks softly.

He leaves Barty there, in the booth, staring at the stone. By the time he makes it back to Grimmauld place, the first tears have begun to slip down his cheeks. His pocket feels overwhelmingly and entirely empty. 

 

---

 

Remus finds Sirius in the back garden, sitting under a tree. It’s nighttime, and the stars above them glint with a soft of malicious softness that Remus doesn't trust. He crosses his arms against the chill and steps out of the Potter’s back door, settling down in front of him. 

“The rest of them left.”

Sirius nods, glancing up at the canopy above them. “About time. Took them long enough.”

Remus shifts. “They still refuse to get Regulus out. Moody still thinks we should kill him.”

“I don’t care what Moody thinks,” Sirius says. “Regulus will figure himself out. He got us out of there well enough. He can manage the same for himself, I’m sure.”

“Right.” Remus pauses, fingers stilling in the grass. “Have you seen James?”

“Not since the meeting.”

“Will you?”

“No.”

“Sirius.”

“Remus.”

Remus sighs, going back to picking at the dirt. “He’s doing better,” he offers, because despite it all he knows Sirius is still worried. James is and always will be his best mate. “Sleeping it all off, I think.” 

“Okay.” 

Remus watches him carefully, wondering what his role in all this is. “What are you thinking?”

Sirius lets out a breath, tipping his head back till it hits the trunk behind him. “I’m thinking that James knew what happened the night I escaped. He’s known since it happened. And he still went for Regulus.”

“Wasn’t he imperioed?” 

“Yeah. But James didn’t know that. He thought Reg did that voluntarily. And it didn’t matter to him.”

“It mattered. Sirius. He told me, when I first found out, he told me Reg had been cursed. Regulus must’ve filled him in.”

“So he knew, then. And he didn’t say anything to me. He didn’t think that maybe I would’ve liked to know that.”

Remus bites his lip. “He made mistakes. A lot of mistakes. But-”

“If you tell me it’s alright because they were in love I’ll vomit all over Effie’s flowers.”

Remus, wisely, stays quiet. “You’ve never seen them together. They’re-”

“Disgusting?”

“Interesting. James is… James is how I remember him. That doesn’t make sense. But he’s happy, and soft, and funny when he’s with Regulus. He cares so deeply. And Regulus- Regulus is different around him, too.”

Sirius looks away suddenly, hands clenching on his knees. “Exactly.”

“What?”

“Why is he different? How?”

Remus feels like he’s said something he shouldn’t have. He blinks slowly. “Um. He isn’t cruel, like he is with us. He’s. I mean. It’s obvious he cares.” 

“Right.” Sirius looks angry then, and Remus regrets whatever he did to set him off. “Right.”

“What’s the issue?”

Sirius shakes his head and looks away. There are frustrated tears in his eyes, barely there but present enough for Remus to notice.

“Sirius?”

“It’s so stupid, but… Regulus- he- every time he did something good, it was for James. The beach, Monty, everything. I see that now. I don’t know how I didn’t before. But- I can’t help but think, what makes James special? When I left, he never followed me. He never even tried.” A tear traces its way down his cheek. He draws in a shaky breath. “Why was James worth changing for and I wasn’t?”

“Oh,” Remus says, a gut-punched sound, dismayed. “No, Siri.”

“I just. I mean. It just shows that he could’ve been different. He had the ability- he just didn’t. Because I wasn’t worth it.”

“That’s not true. That’s- he-”

“Regulus said he didn’t want to put himself in danger. And I thought, you know what? Fine. But making those potions for Monty? Betraying the Dark Lord? How is that not putting himself in danger?”

Remus goes quiet for a long moment. “I think you need to talk to James. And when he inevitably finds a way to rescue Regulus, I think you need to talk to him as well. I don’t think I can help you here.”

Sirius crawls forward, wrapping his arms around Remus’s shoulders. Remus lets him, hugging him carefully and tipping backwards till he’s lying flat on the grass, giving Sirius more room to cling to him. “You’re worth changing for,” Remus whispers into the night. “I’m sure Regulus knows that.”

“I’m not sure I am. And I’m not sure he does.”

Remus pulls him closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Sirius sighs, burying his face in Remus’s neck. “You couldn’t. I wish you had. But.” 

Remus stares up at the sky, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “Regulus once told me if I said anything about the two of them he’d tell the entire school I was a werewolf.” 

Sirius pushes off him, looking startled. “What? Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

That’s two death threats now, Remus notes distantly. “He was bluffing. I think.”

“Still.”

“Will you talk to them?”

Sirius sucks in a breath, falling back down on top of him. “...Not yet.”

“Okay,” Remus says, closing his arms back around him. “Not yet.”

 

---

 

Regulus slides the last of the vials into his satchel, covering both the fangs and venom with the blue fabric. He sits back, clasping it shut and looking around.

“Okay,” he breathes, steeling his nerves. There’s one last loose end he has to tie up before he goes. “Kreature!”

There’s a pop, although slightly muted, and Kreature appears in front of him. “Master Regulus.” He looks worn down and tired, but he’s standing, which is an improvement on last night.

Regulus blinks at him. “Where have you been?”

“In the basement, sir.”

What? “The basement? Why?”

“After Kreature came back from the Potters, he was so tired. And he knew…” Kreature looks ashamed. “And he knew that if he was to be upstairs, people would be asking him for things. So. Kreature hid.” He hits himself in the side of the head, muttering something about lazy house elves and masters. Regulus catches his wrist.

“Kreature. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. No one called for you?”

“No. Kreature thinks they all thought he was still away.”

“And you took Potter to Godric’s hollow? He’s alright?”

Kreature's lip curls. “Both the blood traitors are fine,” he mutters. 

“Good.” He pauses. “Can you tell me where you and the Dark Lord went?”

Kreature stares at him balefully, obviously a little distrustful. Regulus narrows his eyes. “Kreature. It’s an order.”

Kreature sighs and hisses something to himself that Regulus doesn’t quite catch, then opens his mouth and starts to talk.

He tells Regulus about a cave full of dark shadows, a hidden ocean, a rock, a basin, a locket. Dead hands that scrabble to pull you under. He talks about how the Dark Lord made him drink and drink and drink, about the horrible memories that swirled through him, the pain, the anguish.

“It hurt,” Kreature says finally, a small voice angry and slightly scared. “It hurt Kreature, Master Regulus. So bad. But he had to obey orders.” 

Fury blazes through Regulus’s veins as he stares at the elf. There are tears on Kreature’s cheeks. Regulus has never seen him cry before. First Saskia, then James, now this? The Dark Lord certainly knows how to hurt the ones Regulus loves. An idea, shameful and weak, starts to form. He’s not an idiot- he knows what this means.

He should probably find Snape. Should probably wait for backup. But if he does this alone- if he manages it- no one else has to get hurt. Part of him wants to run right now, leave this house and never come back. The other part already knows what he’s going to do. He has to kill the king, he reminds himself, otherwise he’ll never escape the maze. 

“Kreature, I’m sorry,” Regulus starts softly. “I know you’re tired. But I have to ask for one more thing, okay?”

“Anything,” The elf says, shuffling forward, hands twisting at his pillowcase. 

Regulus smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way, ignoring the pounding of his heart. “Will you take me there?”

 

---

 

Regulus can only see the cave walls with the light from his wand. Water drips from somewhere above him. The air smells damp.

Close by, or maybe far, he can hear water washing up against the rocks.

Notes:

okayyyy yay?? maybe??
at the very least James knows now. For better or for worse. So. Theres that. And poor Sirius just needs a second lol literally all of his best friends just betrayed him
as far as im concerned everyone in this chapter is still working off an adrenaline rush. Reg is still in go mode, James is still in save reg mode, Sirius is processing a shit ton of new information, and Remus is just sort of... doing his best
All thats to say the finer things, like Peter or James and Sirius's conversations, or James processing the depth of what Reg did to him, are gonna have to wait since everyone has different priorities right now
This is basically a housekeeping chapter where everyone resets and takes stock of their situation
okay let me know your thoughts yay thank you!!! your comments literally keep me alive im having so much fun with them
I hope I did this chapter justice!! I know it's been long awaited. Also, we're wrapping up, folks. I think we have somewhere under ten chapters left. You know me and my inability to commit to deadlines or word counts, so I'm just gonna leave it at that.
Thank you!

Chapter 62: The Cave

Regulus looks around nervously, stepping back and releasing Kreature’s arm. The feeling is back, that damp moldy thing that turns his organs inside out. He decides to take that as a good sign. The cave ceiling drips with stalactites, shiny and black in his wand light. 

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out the door, especially with Kreature’s help. His palm stings as he tucks it in his pocket, ignoring the light cut. He looks back down at the house elf by his side. “You said there was a boat?”

Kreature glances around miserably, trembling slightly. “Yes, the Dark Lord took Kreature in a boat that came from the lake. But- but Master Regulus- you shouldn’t-”

“I’ll be fine, Kreature.” Regulus hums. “I’m going to do this. Someone has to.” 

“But someone else, surely, it doesn’t have to-”

“Who, then? I know about the Horcruxes. I’ve got you. I don’t have anything to lose.” 

“But the hands- they almost got Kreature, he’s certain they’ll get Master Regulus-” 

Regulus looks down at his elf, biting his lip. Kreature looks truly terrified, and the expression on his face does nothing to calm Regulus’s own fears. “I’ll be fine,” he says again softly. “Why would the Dark Lord let you come back?”

“Kreature isn’t sure. He thinks- he thinks the Dark Lord didn’t realize Kreature could apparate out of the cave. He looked very surprised when Kreature came back with him.”

“Oh.” Regulus moves closer to the mouth of the cave where he can see a glittering blackness that seems to stretch forever. There’s a tug on his arm as Kreature attempts to pull him away.

“No, Master,” Kreature says, and Regulus finds himself taken aback at the raw emotion in the elf’s voice. For someone so angry and uptight, the tears glittering in his eyes surprise Regulus. “Please,” Kreature whispers, voice small.

Regulus stares at him, letting out a gentle breath. “Kreature, you should leave.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to put you through this again.” 

“But-”

“I’m going to do this. And you have been so helpful. But I can’t ask you to go beyond this point.”

“No, Kreature should drink the potion for Master as he drank for the Dark Lord, he should-”

“Absolutely not,” Regulus looks around, shivering a bit. “It should be me.”

Kreature gives him a pleading look. “Let Kreature come, Master. If he insists- If he insists on drinking, he’ll need someone to fill the cup.”

Regulus studies him. That’s true, he supposes. “I don’t want you to talk me out of it.”

Kreature glares down at the ground, angry again. “Kreature has tried.” he drops his voice to a mutter, kicking at stones. “Master Regulus seems so insistent on killing himself. Kreature won’t watch him die. To be so-”

“Kreature,” Regulus cuts him off, because if he has to hear anymore he might lose conviction. “If you’re coming, you need to tell me how to summon the boat.”

A single drop of water from a stalactite plops on the top of his head and rolls down his forehead. He brushes it away and chews the inside of his cheek, approaching the waters edge. The lake stretches out before him, dark and looming. The light from his wand seems to do little against the black, only emitting a dim glow that gets quickly swallowed up. Kreature steps up next to him, silent, shivering.

In the middle of the enormous cavern Regulus can see a small green light glint. That’s where the locket is, he imagines. There’s a foreboding feeling in his chest, aching like maybe Kreature’s right. Maybe he should turn around and go home. But, he thinks as he stares at the water, it may very well be too late. He’s certain that if he does this, the Dark Lord will learn of his betrayal. What with Kreature being his elf, his connection to the Basilisk, and- and honestly, Tom isn’t an idiot. He’ll realize sooner rather than later.

Regulus steps up until the tips of his shoes brush the dark water. He looks out across the lake. Using the spell Kreature tells him, he summons the boat. It rises from the lake like a dementor, dark and haunting. It creaks as it surfaces, bumping softly against the shore.

Regulus is reminded of Charon, ferrying souls across the river to Hades. He has no coin to pay, yet he steps in anyway.  

 

---

 

James stares at his food, taking a careful bite. He swallows thickly and then sets his fork down. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbles when Effie gives him a questioning look.

“Eat something ,” She says, pushing his plate back towards him. “You haven’t had anything all day.”

“Yes, well.” He runs a hand through his curls, pulling a face at the grease he finds there. He should probably shower. “My head still hurts.”

“Your head is going to hurt for a long time, if I had to guess.” Effie crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Two sets of memory charms done and then undone? Your head is just trying to get itself back in order.”

“It could be quicker about it,” James mutters.

Effie smiles. “It’s doing its best.” She looks around. “Where are the boys?”

James shrugs, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “I have no idea. They’re avoiding me.”

“Remus-”

“Sirius is avoiding me. And Remus is scared of me.”

“He’s not scared of you.”

“He’s treating me like I'm breakable.” 

Effie raises her brows and nods to his untouched plate. “In his defense, you’re acting very breakable at the moment.”

James huffs and grabs his fork, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. It takes effort not to gag.

She sits forward then, expression shifting. “I wanted to say. I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you when you told me you thought something was wrong. I just dismissed it. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You couldn’t have known.” James says.

She shakes her head. “But you were telling me. You were explaining what you were feeling and I wasn’t respecting that.”

“How did you find out, by the way?” James asks then. “I assume Remus told you.”

“While you were gone, yeah.”

“Right.”

“I already sort of knew about you and Regulus. I knew there was something. The way you talked about him- the things he did for Monty-”

James hisses as another bout of pain flashes through his head. “Yeah. Yeah.” 

Effie watches him. “You could’ve told us, you know? Monty and I. We would’ve supported you.” 

“With Regulus? A Death Eater? Sirius’s little brother? A boy?” The last bit comes out a bit faulty and less confident than James would’ve liked.

Effie winces. “I’ll admit, it was an interesting choice. But he was helping Monty, and I trust your judgment. And a boy? James, that would never in a million years be an issue. You know that.” 

James nods, looking back down at the table. He shivers lightly. “None of them want to get him out of there,” he mumbles. “I feel like I’m the only one that cares. Even though- even though I hate him.”

“You don’t hate him.”

She’s right. James shakes his head anyway. “I do.” 

“I thought you loved him.” 

James narrows his eyes, glaring at the table. “...I do.” 

“And you aren’t the only one that cares, James. Remus- despite how hard he tries to hide it- genuinely seems to worry for him. And Sirius, well. You know he loves him. They’re just in a rough patch right now.”

“They’ve been in a rough patch for 18 years.”

“That may be true. But it doesn’t mean they love each other any less. We all want him out. It’s just complicated.”

It’s not, James wants to scream. None of this is complicated. He’s in danger, and I need him safe. It's not that hard. 

James and Effie look up as Sirius steps into the room, not looking at them. He goes to the fridge, opening it and grabbing something from inside. Leftovers, probably. James clears his throat. “Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t look at him, straightening and grabbing a fork. James rises from his seat. “Sirius, please. I just- let me explain.”

Sirius turns to walk out. Effie sighs. “Sirius,” She calls. He turns around, eyes angry but not at her. She gives him a soft look. “At least take a plate, love.”

He nods and grabs one from the dishrack, turning and walking out. James stares at her, betrayed. She smiles. “Give him time. You won't do anything but fight if you aren’t ready.”

“I’m ready,” James complains. “It’s him.”

“So if he asks you when you first talked to Regulus, you’d be able to tell him?”

Pain lances through James’s head as he tries to recall the date. It would’ve been on the quidditch pitch, right? When he asked him to make the potions? Or no, maybe before that, in the hallway behind the statue. Unless it was the closet. Which came first? James winces and presses a hand to his head. Effie nods, looking slightly apologetic. “Yeah. I’d wait, if I were you.”

He sinks back into his seat, sighing. “If something happens to him…” he mutters. 

Effie props her chin in her hand. “Have you considered that maybe this is why Regulus did it?”

“What?”

“This. This all-consuming worry for him. Your willingness to put yourself in any amount of danger as long as he’s okay. He thought you were going to get yourself killed trying to protect him. And James?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t prove him right.”

“I won’t. I’m not.”

She fixes him with a stern look. “Then eat your food.” 

He glares at her across the table. She raises a brow. He eats.

---

 

Death is calm.

It’s peaceful.

Gentle. 

Eventually, anyway. At first it’s fire and sparks and all the anger and injustice that comes with a life cut short too soon. Evan, when he’s present enough to still be Evan, fumes with rage and hurt.

And then the Darkness comes back, and he drifts, and everything fades away for a bit. There isn’t consciousness, not exactly, not at all. It’s different. It’s just being. Another form of energy in another place. Drifting and cycling with the universe. 

He’s not a person anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

There are other souls, he realizes distantly. Some of them are paired up, circling and orbiting each other. Some float, like him, alone through the dark. He doesn’t care. There’s no one here he needs. 

So he waits. And he drifts. 

And then one day, or one moment, or one second, there’s a tug in his gut. Like a fishing line, a hook behind his ribs. He’s surprised. And then surprised that he’s surprised. It's the first emotion he’s felt in eternity. The first anything. The first consciousness. The tug pulls him forward and he drifts towards a small pinprick of light. He thinks, (because he can do that now) that he’s not supposed to go into the light. That seems like a fairly known concept. He goes anyway, partly because he has no choice but partly because what else is there to do. At least this is something . 

Then the light envelopes him and consumes him and blinds him all at once, and suddenly he’s not here anymore. Suddenly he’s somewhere else.

He blinks, and gasps, and stumbles on legs he now has. He’s corporeal, he realizes with a start, with limbs and a body and a mind. His first thought, through the shock, is that he somehow miraculously cheated death and resurrected. He dismisses that idea upon finding his body see-through. 

He takes stock of his surroundings, taking a few steps to just see that he can. He’s in some field, trees in the distance and the sound of the ocean at his back. He died by the waves, he thinks distantly. Only fitting that he return to them.

In front of him is a stone, small and obviously dug up from somewhere. There’s still dirt clinging to its cracks, though it looks like someone at least attempted to brush it off. It sits propped up in the grass, tilting slightly to the left. It sits at the head of a fresh patch of earth, obviously recently turned up. It’s a grave, Evan realizes. And then, after a second- it’s his grave. 

He takes in a shuddering gasp of breath, though he doesn’t feel the air. 

He stares for another minute, not moving. And then-

“Evan?”

Everything in Evan’s chest caves into nothingness at that voice, a warm fist closing around his heart. He whirls around, the world spinning into color that he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever.

And-

And there he is.

Barty stands, black hair ruffled, mouth slightly open. There are bags under his eyes, dark and imposing against his deathly pale skin. His cheeks have hollowed slightly, though maybe that’s just in Evan’s imagination. He’s sweating and shivering, hair messy and lips chapped, and he’s just as beautiful as the last time Evan saw him.  

“Barty,” he rasps, because he can, because he has a voice now.

“Rosier-” Barty takes a step and then he’s crashing forward, crossing the short distance between them. Evan holds out his hands and Barty reaches for him and something clicks back into place in Evan’s chest.

And then Barty’s fingers pass through him and suddenly nothing is okay again. Evan stumbles back as Barty’s face falls and he comes to a stop. “Oh,” he says softly.

“You’re here,” Evan whispers. “I’m here. You’re- oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I- you-”

“How, Barty? How am I here? Why?”

Barty reaches up a hand, trying again to touch Evan’s face. Evan isn’t sure if he can feel the pads of his fingers or if it’s just a phantom. He decides not to think about it too hard. “I brought you back,” He says, words hollow and empty. 

Evan blinks. “I’m not here, though, am I? Not really. I’m still- I mean, I can feel it. I’m still somewhere else.” The same feeling that tugged him here pulls just slightly at his back, like if he gives in he’ll be brought back instantly. There’s a low ache in his body, one that wasn’t there in the void. Like hell if he’ll give in, though. He has Barty right in front of him. He’s not going anywhere.

Barty shakes his head, just staring, expressionless. “You’re here.” he says again, and Evan decides not to argue. 

“How?” He breathes. 

“Regulus,” Barty says, just watching him like he can’t believe he’s there. “Regulus gave me a stone. The Resurrection stone.”

One of the Deathly Hallows? Evan files that away. “Oh.” he just says. 

Barty keeps staring at him. Evan can’t read his eyes. Is he in shock? Is that what this is? Evan finds himself surprisingly self regulated. Maybe, after confronting the worst thing that could ever happen to him and then making borderline peace with it, he has little left to fear. He decides on another question. “Did you make this grave for me?”

That seems to be the last straw. Immediately Barty’s face crumples and his eyes fill with tears as he sinks to his knees on the grass. His shoulders shudder as he hugs himself, trembling. Evan sucks in a phantom breath and follows him down to knee in front of him, unsure of what to do when confronted with so much violent emotion where there was seemingly none before. “Barty,” he whispers. Barty breaks down further, burying his face between his knees as he cries. His sobs are loud and shattering, entire body convulsing with each one.

It’s the first time Evan’s ever seen him cry, and he can’t even touch him. 

It must be shock, he imagines, giving away to grief. “Hey,” he murmurs. “I’m right here. I’m right here, baby. Look at me. Please.”

Barty bends forwards, touching his forehead to the ground and hugging his middle as he shudders. Every single sound slices through Evan like a knife. Evan tries to touch him again, foolishly, dismayed when his hand passes straight through his back. “Barty,” he says again. “Barty, I need you to breathe.” 

Barty lifts his head then, and Evan has to fight to stay still. His face is ruined, eyes puffy and wet. His cheeks are streaked with tears, collecting and dripping off his chin. “Evan,” He gasps, throat ragged and torn. He lets out another hiccupy sob, swiping furiously at his cheeks. “I tried to kill him,” He manages. “I tried. He got away. I wasn’t good enough.”

“Shh,” Evan whispers. “It’s fine.”

“I thought I could do it. He got away.”

“It’s fine.”

“But I had to choose between chasing him and leaving you and I- I couldn’t-” 

“Barty. Please.” 

“I tried.” 

His voice breaks as he digs his fingers into the dirt below him. Evan smiles, chuckling a little despite the situation at hand. “I don’t need you to kill anyone for me,” He hums. “I never did.” 

“I should’ve. I almost had him. I wouldn’t have just killed him, you have to know, I would’ve made him hurt-” 

“I know.” Evan smiles. “I know. I took out his eye, if that helps.”

Barty nods shakily. “I saw the blood. There was so much.”

“Oh, good.”

“I would’ve done worse.”

“I know.” Evan sits back, slightly satisfied now that Barty’s been sufficiently distracted. He could ask him about it, could pull the ‘I’m literally dead’ card and attempt to get him to confront his emotions for once, but he decides to let it go in favor of conversation. This situation alone is hard enough on him. 

“I would’ve ripped him apart.”

“It would’ve been hot.” 

Barty smiles, shaky but there. He wipes his eyes again. “Of course it would’ve.” He chuckles, then laughs, then bends forward again as he shakes. Evan just stares at him as he cackles. “I can’t believe I fucking brought you back,” He gasps through his wild laughter. “Wow.” 

Evan drinks the sight of him in, wishing he could touch him, long used to his madness. Barty’s mania has always come as a slight comfort to Evan, because as unpredictable as it is at least it’s consistent. He half wants Barty to face the issue, to use this miraculous experience to actually talk to him, but he knows it's useless. And if Barty wants a comfortable pretense, of course Evan’ll give that to him. He’ll follow his lead, in both life and death. “Is it stupid to ask how you’ve been?”

Barty shrugs, sucking in a breath and giggling one last time. “It’s. I’m handling it. I’m fine.”

Evan gives him a long look, taking in his current appearance. “Where have you been staying?”

Barty waves a hand. “You sound like Regulus. Around. With Rabastian, sometimes.” 

“Good.” And then: “You’ve talked to Regulus? How's he doing?” How’s everyone doing, he wants to ask, but he’s pretty sure Barty isn’t here to provide a general wellness checkup. 

“We didn’t do a lot of talking. And he- he found me. If I had it my way, no one would bother me. And yet here we are.”

Evan chuckles. “Good. I’m glad. How is he, though?”

“I have no idea. He seemed fine. He disappeared after- after. He didn’t even help me.”

“Regulus has never been the vengeful type. And I don't care. I told you. Where is he now?”

“I assume his house. I didn’t know he had the stone. I have no idea where he found it. I don't know why he gave it to me. 

“So if you drop the stone…”

Barty’s eyes harden again and Evan quickly changes the subject. “Why this outfit, do you think?” He's back in his Hogwarts robes, ghostly and pale but there all the same. A faint green glints from his tie and he smiles. 

Barty rolls his eyes, still a little watery. “I don’t fucking know. Probably where your soul feels most at peace, or whatever.”

Curious, Evan rolls up his sleeve. His forearm is bare. He finds himself slightly taken aback by the remorse that the sight stirs up. He didn’t want the mark. He didn’t. But Barty wanted him to have it. And for a second there, they were together in something. 

They don’t match anymore. 

Evan sighs, looking around. “Is there a reason you chose this field?”

“Nah.” Barty hasn’t taken his eyes off him once since he was summoned. Evan doesn’t comment. “Just looked nice, I guess.”

“Wow. I’m touched.”

“Yeah, well.” 

“I really thought you would’ve just thrown me in the sea and let the waves take care of it.” Evan grins, but Barty’s smile slips and he falters. “Too soon?”

Barty just shrugs, silent, looking back down at the earth. Evan takes that as a yes. He notices his right hand, balled into a fist, presumably around the stone. His knuckles have gone white. Evan bites his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “That I didn’t fight harder.”

“Don’t.”

I’m dead, Evan has to resist shouting. I died. I don’t exist anymore. And it’s still not enough for you to fucking talk to me. “Barty-”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t. I just. Can we just sit here? Please?”

And a please from Barty Crouch is rare enough to get Evan’s attention. He nods, smiling and leaning back on his hands. He ignores the tug in his chest, the slight air of discomfort, of unbelonging, and focuses on the boy in front of him. The water crashes against the rocks, and Evan and Barty sit until the sun goes down. 

When Barty apparates back to Rabastan’s house he releases the stone and then takes it up again when he gets to the guest bedroom he’s sleeping in. Evan is once more tugged from the darkness and he sits in the chair across from the bed, talking with Barty until the other boy’s eyes droop and his breaths even out. The stone slips from his hand, and the tension in Evan’s gut is relinquished as he vanishes back into death. 

It’s okay, he thinks as he goes. He has no doubt Barty will call him back first thing tomorrow. 

 

---

 

The lake is still beneath the boat, flat and quiet. The wood cuts through the water like butter, smooth yet creaking. Kreature sits on the bottom, boney knees to his chest, head buried so he doesn’t have to look around him. Regulus ignores the uncomfortable rot in his gut. He’s gotten used to it, at this point. Neither of them speak.

The boat finally bumps up against land and Regulus shoulders his bag before stepping off and onto the rocks. The dark creeps in from the edges of the cavern, crawling across the lake towards him. He lifts his wand higher, swallowing when it does little to illuminate the small island in front of him. He finds his way to the basin, staring into the swirling liquid.

He remembers Kreatures words, the look in his eyes. He glances to see the elf staring at him pleadingly. “And you can’t summon it?”

“No. The Dark Lord put some charm that prevents nearly all magic.”

“Except yours, right?” Regulus asks.

“Only with apparating, Master. Kreature can come and go, but that's where his powers end. 

Regulus looks back at the basin. “So I have to drink.”

“No,” Kreature says quickly. “You don’t. Master Regulus could let Kreature take them back to Grimmauld Place and he could forget all about this.”

Regulus shakes his head and takes another look at the locket resting on the bottom of the bowl. He pulls his wand and conjures another one, hoping it looks identical enough to fool someone as meticulous as the Dark Lord. He considers a note, some record of his betrayal and legacy, but decides that’s an unnecessarily pessimistic line of thinking. 

Regulus shifts on his feet, ignoring the pounding of his heart. He doesn’t look at Kreature. “I need you to do to me what the Dark Lord did to you. I need you to make me drink. I might ask to stop. I’m not- I’m not that strong. You can’t listen to me, okay Kreature?”

“Master-”

“That’s an order.” He puts the same empathises in his voice that he did when Kreature took Sirius and James away last night. It has the same effect, too, and Kreature begrudgingly nods. 

Regulus picks up the shell resting on the edge of the basin, ignoring the way his hand shakes. He doesn’t want to do this, he realizes. He’s not a hero. He’s never been a hero. But Regulus has spent too long bending to the will of others just to stay alive. And if he has to die to finally act individually, so be it. 

As he dips the shell into the potion, he thinks how much James would hate this. How much he’d hate that it was him doing it. Well, he’s a fucking hypocrite, because James would do the same in an instant. He’d grab the entire bowl without hesitation, throw himself into the lake head first if it meant the end of the war. The worst bit is he’d do it out of pure goodness, a selfless need to protect humanity, because that’s just the way he is.

Fuck that. 

Regulus told Dumbledore that he was doing this for no one but himself, and that remains true. He refuses to lose James, or Sirius, or anyone else he loves. He doesn’t want to, so he won't. It’s that simple. 

He lifts the shell to his lips, and he drinks. 

 

---

 

Remus marches into James’s room, barely knocking before throwing open the door. James looks up, smiling before his eyes fall on Sirius who hesitates just behind Remus. James sits up from his bed. “I-”

“Don’t get all excited,” Remus says, cutting him off. “I’m just here to talk about Peter, since you both refuse to otherwise. And I brought this idiot, because this is a conversation for the Marauders. I’m not asking you to get along. I’m asking you to talk to me about our friend.”

James nods, adjusting his glasses, and Remus pushes into his room, Sirius in tow. He settles on the bed as Sirius reluctantly takes a seat in James’s chair.
“Can you tell me what happened?” He asks. “Anything you know.” 

James sighs, rubbing his forehead. “On the beach, I saw Regulus cursing Peter. I went over to help- Peter, that is- and then Reg told me it wasn’t safe- and that I had to leave- which, yeah, he was right, I should’ve- but I didn’t trust him, or, no, I did, I always have, but I wasn’t listening, so-”

“James,” Remus interrupts when he starts to look painfully confused and Sirius sits forward like he’s about to curse him. “What else?”

“Back at Grimmauld Place, Regulus told me Peter was the traitor. I didn’t believe him. I thought- well, obviously I thought he’d misunderstood something. Because it’s Peter- and he wouldn’t- he’d never… but then, as you heard, when we tried to escape it was Peter that stopped us and turned us over to Voldemort.” 

“But why?” Remus whispers. “How did Regulus find out?”

“Peter gave him the spell you made to get out of lockdowns. He told Reg to use it if there was an attack on Hogwarts, to let the Death Eaters in. Reg thought he was buffing and it was a trick of some sort. It wasn’t.”

“Oi, call him Regulus.” Sirius says icily. Remus rolls his eyes. James groans. 

Remus continues. “I mean, did he even hesitate?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius says. And then: “No. He didn’t. None of us noticed he called him until Regulus said something.”

“How did he know?” 

“His arm hurt,” Sirius shrugs. “Or something. He looked in pain. Some Death Eater trick, I imagine.” 

“But Peter doesn’t have the mark, right?”

“No. He wouldn’t have gotten away with being a traitor if he did.”

“He could’ve used glamour,” James offers from the bed. “That shit works.”

“Glamour? He looks the same. He looked the same.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” James shrugs. “If you- I mean some people- use glamour just to hide certain things. Injuries and stuff.”

Remus gives him a look. “Some people, huh?”

James stares at the ceiling. “Some people.” 

“What- does-” Sirius looks between them, obviously keyed into the subtext but refusing to admit it. “What can you hide?”

James lowers his gaze to meet Sirius’s. “The Dark Mark would be easy enough.” he pauses, and something passes between them. Remus decides this is the closest they’ll get to actually talking about Regulus, so he lets it slide. James shrugs. “Also smaller, though. Bruises. Cuts. Scars.”

“Scars,” Sirius says, and his voice suddenly has a slightly breathless quality to it that Remus doesn’t fully understand. 

James nods, blinking slowly. “It’s easy,” he says.
Sirius stands up, moving towards the door, and Remus catches him by the wrist. “No. Sirius, you promised.” 

“But-” Sirius turns around and Remus takes a breath at the panicked look in his eyes. “Remus,” he says softly. “Please. Don’t make me stay here.”

“Just- lets just finish talking, please?”

Sirius shakes his head and sighs. “Glamour,” he says softly, but lets Remus pull him back to his seat.

“Okay. So. If Peter really is the traitor-”

“-He is,” Both Sirius and James say at the same time, pointedly ignoring each other. 

“If he is, then why? And how come we didn’t notice?”

James flops back on his bed, tossing an arm over his eyes.

Sirius coughs. “The ‘how’ is fairly straightforward. He was probably getting recruited, and being the weak bastard he is, gave in. And then he kept having meetings in secret while lying to our faces. What I don’t understand is why he never told Voldemort Regulus was the traitor after the beach.”

“Voldemort was missing,” James says from the bed.

“Another Death Eater, then.” Sirius snaps. “Could’ve been anyone. He had two days.”

“Or-” Remus sits forward. “Or he cursed him. Regulus has always loved silencing spells. Like the one he used on me back in the library so long ago.”

“What?” James lifts his arm so he can look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“When he found me in the library and cursed me so I couldn’t tell you he’s a- mph.” Apparently, the spell is still in effect. Unfortunate.

James frowns. “That- did that- I don’t remember.”

“You were the one that got the book back for me.” 

James’s eyes glaze over and Remus sighs. “We can move on.”

“The- the astronomy tower. With- yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m with you.” 

“Jesus fuck.” Sirius drops his head into his hands. 

“Anyway,” Remus says pointedly. “He could’ve cursed Peter not to say anything about him. That would be very in-character.”

“I think he actually did cast something on him at the beach while I was watching,” James says. 

“There you go, then.”

Sirius hums from the chair. “Can we talk about the ‘why’, now?”

“I don’t want to,” James mumbles.

“No, you’ve always avoided difficult conversations, haven't you?” Sirius retorts. 

James says nothing, fingers tapping impatiently on his arm. 

Remus considers it. “I mean- he’s kind of- and this sounds awful, but have you guys talked to him in the past year?”

“Of course,” Sirius says, confused. 

“But I mean really talked to him. Beyond basic conversation.” 

“...No.” James says. “But I’ve been preoccupied. Dad, and then this shit-”

“Sure, whatever the reason, I feel like he’s been fading into the background over time.” Remus tips his head. “Well. I don’t know. That’s just a theory. I want to talk to him.” 

“I don’t.” Sirius complains. 

“I know. I think we’re all a little furious, considering.” 

“Mhm.” 

The group falls silent. James sits up. “Sirius, can we-”

“Nope,” Sirius says, and stands. This time when he walks out, Remus lets him go. James curses and flops back down. Remus smiles apologetically and then follows him out. 

 

---

 

When Regulus was five, he tripped over something or other and cut his leg open on the pavement. It wasn’t bad, just a scratch, really, but he’d cried and cried. His mother found him, scooped him up and took him inside. She set him on the table, calling Kreature. Regulus waited for the elf to heal him, but he didn’t. Instead his mother was the one who took up a warm rag and wiped at the wound.

The motions were soft and unpracticed, her brows furrowed as she concentrated. Regulus’s little heart had swelled with such a warmth that made the fall worth it. He’d looked up and caught Sirius’s eyes, only a year older, hovering in the doorway. He was staring at Walburga and Regulus, eyes hard. Regulus remembers his little pale legs, covered in scratches with makeshift plasters stuck haphazardly stuck over them. He’d seen Sirius patching himself up the night before. It wasn’t jealousy, in little Sirius’s expression. Just plain and innocent confusion. 

When Regulus fell, his mother would find him, if his brother didn’t get there first. When Sirius fell, there was no one there to pick him up off the ground but himself.

Walburga carefully bandaged Regulus’s knee as his sobs abided. She stood then, dusting her hands off on her dress. “Be more careful next time,” She said, but it didn’t sound much like a scolding. Regulus nodded, tearing his eyes away from his brother. 

Then his father bustled in and shouted at him to get off the table, and his mother just crossed her arms when he stumbled upon hopping down. Sirius took his hand and back out they went, searching for whatever freedom they could find on the dingy London sidewalk. 

It’s that specific memory that repeats like a loop in Regulus’s head as he slides to his knees on the rocks. His mothers eyes, soft and careful, his brother in the doorway.

Another drink.

He begs Kreature to stop.

He skins his knee, and his mother lifts him from the pavement. 

Another drink.

No more, please. 

A bandage over the cut, carefully patted to make sure it stuck.

Please. 

A single drop of blood running down his shin from under the white plaster. Wiped away with a rag. 

Please. 

The cup is lifted again. Regulus chokes, spits it back up.

His mother lifts him from the sidewalk. His brother watches from the doorway. 

I’m sorry, Sirius. I swear she loved you too. 

No more, no. All done.  

And soon the little Sirius in the doorway grows and falls to the floor, the rug starting to stain with the blood Regulus spilled from his stomach. The blood runs, pools, grows until Regulus drowns in it. And he looks down and suddenly there’s a knife in his hand, a fang in his other. He sets it down in the sea of red and leans forward, cutting through flesh again. It parts instantly under his blade, like butter, Another tooth free. Just thousands more to go. 

Please, Kreature. I can’t. 

Master Regulus must drink. He’s so close.

He can’t take anymore. He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t he-

“All done, Master. All done. No more. You did it.” Kreature grabs Regulus’s shoulders, guiding him forward. “You’re all done.” 

Regulus bends forward, clawing at his throat, choking on acid. He gasps, a ragged, torn sound, and there’s no one to comfort him but an old house-elf and the shadows beneath the water’s surface. He wants his brother to hold him, rub his back until his shudders subside.

He wants his mother to look at him the way she used to when he was still someone worth loving. 

He trembles and a sob claws its way out of his throat, half-formed, and dies in the empty cavern. He forces himself to his feet, because there's a war out there and people that still need saving. His throat aches. He needs water. 

The basin is empty, somehow, miraculously, and he grabs the locket, ignoring the way it burns at his touch. He, barely managing to stand, slides the duplicate into the bowl and sinks back to the ground. 

“Kreature,” He rasps, and immediately the elf is there, fretting over him uselessly. “Water.”

“I can’t,” Kreature whispers. “There is no water to be had, Master Regulus.” 

But there is, and Kreature’s lying. Because he can see it. It’s all around them, closing in from all sides, glistening and black and so inviting. Regulus slides the locket into the bag at his hip, shakily taking it off his shoulders and shoving it at his elf. “Snape,” he gasps. “Give this to Severus. Now.”

“Kreature won’t leave you- you’ll try to drink the water- he can’t let you-” 

Regulus shakes his head, sweating, fevered, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that it’s already too late. He’s never been strong enough. “Go,” He rasps. He shoves the bag again and Kreature takes it, eyes wide.

“Promise,” the elf says. “Promise Kreature that Master won’t drink.” 

“I promise.” Regulus says, anything to get him to go. He needs him gone just as much as he needs the relief of the lake. 

Kreature stares at him long and hard before disappearing with a gentle pop that reverberates around the cavern.

And then- 

And then, Regulus is alone. 

And he realizes exactly how much he just fucked up. 

Because he can’t apparate out of here without Kreature. And now there’s no one to hold him back from what he knows he’ll do anything to get. He crawls forward immediately, sliding down the rocks towards the waters edge. 

Regulus kneels at the edge of the lake and thanks the gods that someone else knows about the Horcruxes. Silence echoes around him, cut through with the ragged gasps of his torn breath. He savors the sound as a horrible sort of misery rises in him. The burning in his throat is too much, and the water is right there. 

So he whispers a silent apology into the air- to whom, he doesn’t know; to himself, to his mother, to everyone that had the misfortune of being loved by him- and he breaks his promise. 

For a glorious, beautiful second, the water cupped in his palms brings relief. It cools the ache in his throat and calms his mind, and it’s like coming out of a high. His brain clicks back into place, and he can think clearly for the first time since the potion.

When the first pale hand closes around his wrist, Regulus is still swallowing. 

He can barely manage a half-cry before he’s pulled from the waters edge with arms stronger than anything he’s felt before. More hands reach from the lake and grab his shoulders, his legs, and he doesn’t even have time to scramble at the rocks before he’s pulled under. 

He thrashes, panic consuming every thought and nerve. That’s all there is, panic and pain and cold, as more bodies press against him in the water. He gasps and bubbles float to the surface, reaching farther heights than Regulus could ever dream of. The hand’s scrabble. Their grip is clumsy, frantic- but he hasn't been touched by another person in so long, and maybe it's the panic, or lack of oxygen, but for a moment, he imagines it’s James’s hands ghosting over his skin. And then their nails dig in and rip through his flesh, and James’s soft touch morphs into his mother’s. 

He cries out, twisting back and forth, trying to fight, trying to shake free. But they keep him down and tear into him, cutting through skin and muscle. 

It’s not fair- 

It’s not fair.

In his fight to breathe, he doesn’t even have time to form any coherent last thoughts. He should, he knows. This is the time. It’s all survival now, even if that in itself is futile. The water presses at his lips and he parts them on a desperate inhale, lungs craving something he knows they won’t get. The water rushes in, salty and thick, filing his chest and consuming him entirely. His body turns to fire, the lake around him growing cloudy with blood. 

The bubbles that escape his lips rise to the surface, shooting up through the water. He watches them go, glad that at least some part of him will make it out. Even if it's his last breaths, a piece of him will reach higher than he'll ever go. They'll see the sun again. 

There’s something hazy behind his mind, getting thicker with each passing moment. His chest heaves, desperate for air, but every breath only draws in more water, more burning, until it feels like his own body is trying to tear itself apart. The fingers continue to claw at his skin and he isn’t sure which is worse- dying alone or dying like this. 

His vision flickers. 

Regulus has always known he was destined to drown. He feels it somewhere deep in his chest, past his rib cage, nestled behind his organs. He feels it wrapped in his mothers arms. He feels it in his brother’s gaze. He feels it in Saskia’s words. He feels it in every inch of James Potter’s smile. 

He feels it now in his throat, in his mind, in his heart. 

It’s alright. 

It’s just letting go. 

It’s just sinking. 

And he’s been sinking for a long, long time. 

His heart stutters. There’s blood in his mouth. 

He stopped fighting a while ago. The pain doesn’t exist anymore. That’s nice, at least. 

The world blinks in and out.  

À bientôt, Evan. 

Then another hand closes around his arm, and this one is different because it isn’t tearing into him. It’s pulling him, higher and higher, past claws that rip through his flesh as he’s dragged off them.

He breaks the surface of the lake, barely awake, hardly coherent, working off of nothing but his base human instincts. He gasps at the stale air, gulping it down with no relief but instead pure desperation. He’s dragged onto land and he chokes, coughing, gagging, shaking. 

There’s the pain- crowding him from every angle, and the cuts littering his body start to scream as he fights for air. 

“Idiot,” Someone is mumbling, frantic and worried, pulling him further away from the water. 

He can’t breathe- can’t breathe- 

He blearily focuses on the face of his savior, wishing he could stop choking on air long enough to make them out. 

“Do not die on me- I swear to god, Black-” 

Severus Snape.

Of fucking course. 

“You bloody idiot,” Snape growls, sounding more than a bit desperate. His hands fly over Regulus’s chest, his arms, everywhere Regulus can feel blood soaking his clothes. 

All Regulus can do is cough, trying and failing to roll on his side. Snape gets the hint and quickly tips him over, just in time too. Regulus throws up into the lake, salty bile and water dribbling off his lips. There’s blood on his tongue. There’s blood everywhere, actually. And for once, it’s all Regulus’s. 

The pain turns the edges of his vision hazy and he knows he doesn’t have much longer awake. “Sirius,” he gasps, and Snape, obviously terrified, nods. There’s so much blood. He can feel it pooling in the palms of his hands and the divots between his ribs. 

“Stupid,” Snape hisses again, still flailing around attempting to put pressure on a thousand wounds at once. “Kreature- listen to me- I need you to-“ 

He keeps talking, Regulus is sure, but he can’t hear anymore. The world slips from him slowly as he tries to take one last gasp of air. As his eyes slide shut he wonders if he’s dying or just passing out. He supposes he’ll get his answer when- if- he wakes up. 

With that, his consciousness fades away, and all that's left is a punishing darkness. 

 

---

 

James tucks his knees under him on the couch, fingers tapping gently on his mug of tea. “Are we sure?”

Moody levels him with a cool gaze. “I don’t think a further mental examination would do you any good, Mr. Potter. For now, we need to let your mind heal.” 

“I don’t understand.” Marlene says from the loveseat she’s sharing with Dorcas. “What did they do to James, beyond the legilimens? Why would he need an examination?”

James clears his throat, looking down at his tea. “I don’t- er.” He can feel her studying him. 

“He obliviated himself.” Remus fills in, and all eyes go to him. “So Voldemort couldn’t find anything. But then Narcissa undid it. It’s left him a bit… disoriented.”

“I can tell,” Marlene says dryly. She has her feet propped up on the coffee table. She hasn’t been by in a while. None of them have. Remus insisted on having some of the girls over when Moody said he wanted to talk to the younger members of the order. 

“That’s it?” Dorcas asks carefully.

James rubs his forehead. “Basically. But you think I’m fit for duty?” He says, raising his eyes to look at Moody.

“As much duty as we need you for,” Moody allows.

So not a lot, James thinks bitterly. 

“Though, we could use your insider intel into Voldemort’s mental strategies.” 

James nods, willing to be of any help he can. After the beach, he feels like too much of a burden to waste any potential he can provide.

Effie hums next to him. “I should think none of this is crucial to the greater war. We’re dragging this out. Does it matter?” 

“I don’t know, Mrs. Potter.” Dorcas looks up. “The Death Eaters love mind games. Mental warfare is one of their main strategies. James telling us about what happened could be helpful.”

“He’s already told us,” Sirius grits. James doesn’t look at him, taking a long drink from his mug. 

“Okay, what’s this? You two are fighting again? Why?” Marlene looks between them, singular brow raised. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Moody cuts back in. “And what I’m suggesting is Potter tells us the specific strategies Voldemort and Malfoy used to get in his head. Every witch and wizard is different- they all have their own styles of legilimency.” 

“I can do that,” James nods. 

Just then there’s a weird feeling in the air, a disturbance, and James, Effie, and Sirius all look up, confused. They’re the main members of the wards, James realizes. Which means something is trying to break in, and they can all feel it. 

“What’s happening?” Moody asks gruffly.

“The wards-” Effie starts. 

And then there’s a sickening pop and a lot of things happen all at once. Marlene squeaks as a trio of people appear on the carpet. James is on his feet in a second, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. Moody beats him to it, whipping out his wand and shooting a curse at the intruder. It’s Snape, James realizes, and under him, lying bloody and unconscious, is- 

“No,” He breathes, just as the curse hits Snape’s chest. He cries out as he's thrown backwards across the floor. Effie’s saying something, everyone’s panicking, and all James can do is move forward through the fray. He’s on his knees at Regulus’s side in the next second, horrified. 

Sirius appears on the other side of him, and for a moment, the commotion in the background gets drowned out, and only the three of them exist. 

There are cuts and wounds covering Regulus, wet from head to toe. Blood soaks through what's left of his clothes, oozing thick from what looks like hundreds of lacerations spread out across his skin. He’s thoroughly unconscious, though his chest moves slowly. James makes some sort of ugly sound that he can’t quite hear and pulls Regulus up, lifting him into his lap so he can get a clearer view of his injuries. The house elf is back, Kreature, and he’s fretting uselessly in the corner of the living room. Sirius is mumbling nonsensical things and wiping Regulus’s hair away from his face, trying to stem the bleeding from a million different places. James can’t focus on anything but the panic rising inside him. 

"Regulus," He whispers frantically, pressing his hand against a cut on his chest.

Snape reaches for Regulus's shoulder and James flinches in the opposite direction, fury surging through him. "Stay the fuck back," He hisses. "don't touch him." 

"I-"

"Don't." James will hurt him, he'll make him bleed, he'll rip him limb from limb if he even tries to-

Then there’s a rough hand on his shoulder and someone’s trying to pull him away from Regulus. Moody, with his wand drawn, saying something about a threat and intruders. James ignores him, trying desperately to help Sirius cover Regulus’s injuries. Remus is between them in the next second, wand out and pointed at Moody as he positions himself in front of James. 

Effie kneels next to James, gently pulling Regulus from his grip and starting to whisper healing charms as she runs her wand over his limbs. He resists for a second, keeping his grip tight on Regulus's shoulders before reluctantly letting go. 

“What happened?” Dorcas asks, uncursing Snape and standing over him on the ground.

He winces, rubbing his shoulder. “Stupid idiot went in alone- nearly fucking drowned-” 

“Where?” Dorcas demands as Remus keeps arguing with Moody. 

“The-” 

Regulus suddenly coughs, chest heaving, and both James and Sirius lean over him. “Reg,” Sirius whispers. “Hey, hey, it’s alright-”

“Stay awake love,” James mumbles, trying not to cry as he cups the back of Regulus’s head. 

“S-Snape-” Regulus manages, and instantly Snape crawls around Dorcas towards them. “Did you-” 

“Yes, yeah, I did, it’s gone.” 

Regulus coughs again, blood dyeing his lips red. James curses and leans closer. “I’ve got you,” he breathes. “Shh, love, just- just relax, it’s going to be fine-” 

“What the fuck is happening,” Marlene says from somewhere behind him. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Dorcas asks again.

Effie stops murmuring charms long enough to ask about internal injuries. Snape shakes his head. “No. At least- I don’t think so.”

“The blood- on his mouth-”

“He swallowed a lot of water. A lot. Which was also bloody.”

Effie casts a diagnostic charm that means nothing to James and nods in agreement. “I think you’re right. There’s still a lot of liquid in his lungs.” 

“Well- how do we get it out?” Sirius asks, sounding more than a little frantic.

Effie shakes her head. “That’s not our priority. These cuts-”

“Our priority is subduing the attackers,” Moody says, trying to side step Remus. “I will curse you, boy, don’t think I won’t.”

“Fucking try it,” Remus hisses, raising his wand higher. 

“Alastor,” Effie cuts in. “This boy needs medical attention that I can give him if you let me. We can’t get any information out of him in this state.”

Moody looks conflicted, angry, but he throws up his hands and relents after a moment. “Fine. Fix him fast. We can’t have him bleeding out on the carpet before we get answers.” His gaze drifts to Snape. “You, on the other hand-”

Snape backs up across the floor before stumbling to his feet. “I’m not your enemy,” he says, moving towards the door. “Look, how about this, let's all cool down and I’ll be back. Just- just let me leave.”

“Absolutely not.” Moody barges past Remus and Snape yelps, ducking out the door. Moody chases him out, but James doesn’t have the bandwidth to see how far they get. Instead he focuses back on Regulus, stroking his hair away from his face as Effie does her best to heal him. 

“What happened?” He croaks. “We need- he-“

“The bleeding has stopped,” His mum says, “but I can’t close all of these.” 

Dorcas and Remus hover over them, staring. “He’s asleep again.” Remus points out.

It’s true. Regulus has tipped his head into James’s arm, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. “Is he-”

“He’s going to be fine,” Effie says. “He needs rest and blood replenishing potions. Sirius, will you help me get him into Monty’s bedroom? I’ll clean him up and dress his wounds and then we can regroup.”

Sirius, who hasn’t said a word this entire time and has gone completely white in the face, presses his lips together and nods. He slides his arms under Regulus and lifts, picking him up like it’s the easiest thing in the world and heading down the hallway. James takes a stumbling step after them but his mother stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “You look like you’re about to pass out, James. Sit down. He’s fine.”

James takes a shaky step back, realizing then that he hasn’t taken a breath in a while. He nods. “Just- just-”

“I know.” She gives his shoulder one last squeeze and turns to follow Sirius. 

James thinks he’s going to be sick. His head is spinning, turning circles with forgotten memories. He stumbles back until he’s sinking onto the couch, folding over and burying his head between his knees, trying to force his lungs to take in air.

Someone puts a hand on his back, Remus, and James tips into him. He sucks in a shuddering breath and Remus rubs soothing circles between his shoulder blades. It’s fine. Regulus is here. He’s going to be okay.

He’s safe. 

James lifts his head and sees Dorcas staring at him from the other side of the room, eyes hard. “Did I tell you?” He croaks, because he can’t remember but she’s looking at him like he did.

She nods. “On the train,” She says slowly.

“Tell her what?” Marlene looks between them. “I’m so confused. What’s Regulus doing here? Why’s he all cut up like that? What's wrong with James?”

“I’m fine,” he rasps, and Remus squeezes his shoulder sympathetically. His head spins. 

The door bangs open then, Moody marching back in. He’s got Snape by the back of his collar, dragging him inside and depositing him on an armchair. “Caught him.”

“I can see that,” Remus says from next to James. “Snape, what the fuck was that?”

“Where’s the elf?”

“The elf? He-”

They all shut up as they realize Kreature is still lurking in the corner. In all the commotion, they’d forgotten about him. He eyes them all suspiciously, hands fisted in his pillowcase. 

“Kreature?” James asks, sitting forward. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Kreature doesn’t speak to blood traitors.”

“Who’s this?” Marlene asks, lip curling.

“Reg’s elf,” Dorcas says cooly. “Hi, Kreature.”

Kreature pointedly refuses to look in her direction, glaring at the ground. Snape sighs. “I’ll tell you. Or- no. I won’t, actually.”

“I swear to god-” Remus rises from the couch just as Moody wacks Snape on the back of his head. 

“He’ll talk.” Moody says gruffly, crossing his arms. 

James stares at Snape. The other boy rolls his eyes but eventually meets James’s gaze. This is about the Horcruxes. It has to be. Which means: “Let’s wait for Dumbledore," James says. “He’ll want to be here. Moody, have you called him?”

“I don’t care. Talk, boy.” Moody presses his wand under Snape’s chin. Snape winces, tipping his head back. 

James shudders a breath, turning to Remus. He wants to know what happened, he does, but he also absolutely does not have the bandwidth for this. “I have to-”

“I know.” Remus says, nodding. “Go. I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill him.” 

“And I’ll watch the elf,” Dorcas volunteers.

James nods and stands, keeping a hand on the wall as he makes his way down the hall. He pauses in the doorway to his father’s old bedroom, staring at the scene before him. 

Regulus lies still on the bed, eyes closed and lips parted. Effie sits by his bedside, wiping down his wounds and bandaging them carefully. His shirt lies discarded on the floor next to her. On the other side of the bed, Sirius cuts up pieces of bandages silently, handing them to Effie when she reaches out. Sirius’s eyes stay fixed on his brother’s face, deathly still. His hands don’t shake as he cuts the bandages, James notices.

“How’s it going?” James croaks. 

Effie looks up and Sirius freezes. “He’s fine,” Effie says carefully. “These are all surface wounds. I have no idea what could have possibly caused them. They look like…”

James stares at the cuts. “Claw marks.” He grips the frame harder, trying desperately to stay upright. There’s a flush of anger boiling low in his gut. 

Sirius’s scissors snip loudly in the following silence. 

James looks up at him, and for the first time in a long time, Sirius meets his eyes. He looks, for lack of a better word, scared. 

“Finally got him out,” is all Sirius says weakly. James lets out a dry chuckle. 

“What’s happening in the other room?” Effie asks. “Do we have any more information?”

“No, Kreature is refusing to talk and Snape is resisting interrogation.”

“Snape’s back?”

“Yeah. Moody caught him, I guess.”

“He’s… helping us?”

“Yeah. He’s on our side, actually. He stopped by while I was over there. He just doesn't want to work for the Order, as far as I can tell.”

“So he and Regulus are both…” 

“Traitors, yes.”

“Huh. And he’s refusing to tell Moody.”

James sighs, long suffering. “I don’t know. I left them to it. I had to…” he gestures weakly at the bed. 

Effie sighs. “I wish I knew what did this to him. It’d be easier to heal.” She secures the last bandage on Regulus’s thigh and stands, stretching. “He should sleep, but he’s been fighting it. If I had to guess, he'll wake up relatively soon. In the meantime, let's go back out there and subdue Alastor.”

Sirius steps out from behind the bed and follows Effie out. James takes another moment to steady his heart rate, staring at Regulus. Part of him wants to crawl in bed next to him, to take him in his arms and stay till he wakes up. Part of him never wants to see him again. 

Instead he turns and joins the others in the living room. He sinks back onto the couch, watching as Moody shouts at Snape, who has crossed his arms and is obviously refusing to talk.

“I don’t understand why you’d come here for help but then refuse to give us anything,” Moody growls.

Snape narrows his eyes. “I did give you something. I gave you Regulus.”

“From where?”

“As I told you, some cave. The elf took me there.”

Moody rounds on Kreature, who hasn't moved. Snape waves a hand. “He won’t talk unless he’s commanded to, and the only person who can do that is currently unconscious.”

“Kreature doesn’t speak to blood traitors,” Kreature offers icily.

“Then why are you still here?” Remus asks. 

“Kreature needs to make sure Master Regulus is alright. When he wakes, Kreature will go.”

“Right.”

“Snape,” James starts. “Don’t you think-”

“Shut up, Potter.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Everyone’s heads swivel to James. “You know something?” Moody demands. 

“Nope,” James says, popping the p.

“Children,” Moody mutters, pacing. The door swings open again and Dumbledore breezes through. Everyone in the room lets out a breath.

“Alastor. Severus. What is the meaning of this? I had to leave the school in Minerva's hands-”

“This one dropped into the middle of the living room with the younger Black and is now refusing to give us any information. I, personally, think we should attempt other methods, but-”

“It’s alright, Alastor. How did they get through the wards?”

“The elf.”

Once again, everyone looks to Kreature, who hisses and backs up. 

Dumbledore nods, surveying the scene. “I see. And the younger Black-”

“He’s resting,” Effie cuts in. “Injured, but alive.” 

“Injured how?”

“We aren’t… entirely sure.”

“Inferi,” Snape says, and all heads swivel in his direction. He sighs. “Inferi did that.” 

There’s a rising horror in James’s chest. Marlene takes a breath. “The corpses?”  She says. "The dead people?"

Snape nods, examining his fingers. There’s blood on his hands, James realizes. And his shirt, and his face. 

“Ah,” Dumbldore says slowly, like he’s piecing it together. “I see.” 

Moody looks between them. “This makes sense to you?”

Dumbledore holds Snape’s gaze calmly. “The cave, then?”

Snape's eyes widen, but he nods. Dumbledore sighs. “Interesting. Interesting.” He turns back to the room. “Alastor, we don't need to take any special measures with Severus here. He’s on our side, and has been a great help.” 

“He dropped a Death Eater into the living room.” Moody growls. 

“He’s not,” James and Sirius say at the same time. Sirius glances at James and then clears his throat. “He’s not a Death Eater. He just has the mark.” 

“Forgive me if I’m not that quick to forgive,” Moody gripes. “Especially considering recent events.”

He means Peter, but James pushes on anyway. “He saved me. He bought me time.” He did so much more than that, but he keeps those bits to himself.

“He may just have a soft spot for you, ever consider that?” Moody asks. “The rest of us could still be enemies in his eyes.”

“No, Mr. Potter’s right. He’s with us.” Dumbledore runs a hand over his beard. “He has been for a while. He came to me for help not too long ago.”

Dumbledore’s words reduce to static in James’s ears. He looks up, a simmering fury burning behind his eyes. “What?”

Dumbledore glances at him and sighs at the expression on his face. “He needed help with something. At the time-”

“So you knew he was a traitor. You knew he was on our side. And you still did nothing.”

“He was on a mission. I didn’t want to interfere.” 

James rises from the couch, gesturing down the hall. “Yeah, and look what’s happened. He’s been torn to shreds, all because you refused to listen to me.” 

“Mr. Potter-”

“I asked you, I begged you to get him out of there- I told you he was in danger- and you knew-” He knows everyone’s watching him. He doesn’t care.

“He had something to do. Right now, there are things I can’t disclose. Things you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand.” James spits. “I understand all of it. And I still would’ve saved him, given the chance. You just didn’t want to lose such a ‘valuable asset.’” 

Dumbledore smiles gently. “He was more use to us inside than out. He’s done great things that he would never have been able to accomplish if his cover was blown. Mr. Black understood that.”

“I can’t do this,” James hisses, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t-” His head spins. He looks up suddenly as a memory drags its way up through the depths. “Did you spike his tea with veritaserum?”

Dumbledore sighs. Dorcas stiffens. “What?”

Snape lets out a huff in the chair. 

“None of this is important, right now.” Moody steps forward. “We need a plan of action. What do we do about him?” He nods to Snape in the chair.

“I’m not staying here,” Snape hisses.

“Good, because no one wants you to.” Sirius snaps back.

“Sirius.” Effie chides. 

“Severus, go home. We’ll keep tabs on you and send a patronus when we need you.” Dumbledore says. 

“Is that a good idea?” Marlene pipes up. “He could still be-”

“He’s been cleared,” Dumbledore says, and James knows he knows about the Horcruxes. That must be what Regulus went to him about. “And he understands the consequences of deceiving us.” 

Snape nods, standing and stepping around Moody testily. He moves to leave and then pauses, staring at the door to the hallway. He takes a half step forward. James follows his gaze and freezes- every muscle in his body locking up. 

Regulus, shirtless and wrapped in pearly white bandages, stands in the doorway. He has one hand on the frame, bracing himself as he sways dangerously. He swallows and then winces, shifting his grip on the wall. “Hi,” he rasps. “Can I have my wand?”

Notes:

Hi! not too bad of a wait this time, right???
"They don't match anymore." KILL ME. whatever. whatever. who even cares.
anyway as unpleasant as this chapter was for everyone to me its like bittersweet bc at least now everyones in one place and they've all been reunited (Evan and barty too)
Big things are coming but first... conversations
sorry to you plot people im a drama lover at heart I need my emotionally charged situations

Chapter 63: Ashes to Ashes

When Regulus wakes up, he thinks for a moment that he’s still in the water. He can feel it all around him, flowing through his hair and down his throat, filling his lungs and his nose and his ears, until everything inside of him is the same as his surroundings. It’s almost peaceful.

His eyes crack open, and there’s a split second before the pain sets in. The ceiling above him glistens, and he wonders if that’s what death looks like. A white ceiling. 

It’s not, he discovers, when every inch of his skin erupts into fire a moment later. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head. 

The hands are back, grabbing at his skin and ripping their claws through his flesh like clay. He wants them off. He never wants to feel them again. 

He survived, then, if the pain is anything to go by. Somehow. He pushes himself up in the bed, looking around. He has no idea where he is- he’s certain he’s never been here before. The bed is soft and warm under him, much gentler than his mattress at home. Bigger, too. 

He doubles over, coughing, gasping for air that’s been suddenly ripped from him. It feels like his lungs are still full of water. 

He can hear voices a little ways down outside his door, talking loudly. There’s James- and Remus-

The sound washes over him, soothing and perfect, and for a second he allows himself the comfort of their presence. This must be Godric’s Hollow, then.

He swings his legs over the bed, looking down at himself. He’s covered in cuts shielded neatly by bandages. They’re on his legs, his chest, his neck, his face. He runs his fingers over his stomach and hisses. Someone did a good job patching him up-  some of the cuts have already sealed over, pink lines on his skin. He wonders if they’ll scar. 

He’s in his trousers, thankfully, so he carefully shifts his weight to his feet and moves towards the door. He opens it slowly, trying to make sense of the voices in the other room. James sounds angry. 

James. 

James who remembers.

James who loves him.

Or- maybe- James who loved him. 

Regulus creeps down the hall, trying to block out the memory of the bodies under the water, the hands, the locket. If he thinks too hard, he’ll just start drowning again, and he really needs to focus. He hovers in the doorway, sucking in a deep breath and taking a look around. Remus and James sit on one of the couches. Euphemia hovers somewhere in the middle. Dorcas stands against the wall. Dumbledore stands by Effie, Snape next to him.

Moody waits behind the couch, a dark eye patch stretched over his face. 

Regulus takes an instinctual step forward. 

Snape notices him first, drawing up short and staring at him with wide eyes. Regulus wonders if he destroyed the locket. He hopes he did. He hopes Kreature made enough clear. 

“Hi,” Regulus whispers, voice aching. His throat burns from the water, tightening around every word. “Can I have my wand?”

Snape takes another step. His eyes scan over every inch of him and Regulus knows then and there that it must not be a pretty sight. Behind him, Dumbledore claps his hands. Regulus flinches, despite himself. “Ah. Good. Mr. Black, you’re awake.”

Regulus looks around, hating the attention on him. He wants to go back to bed. He shouldn’t have risen so soon. He still doesn’t have his wand. He coughs, hard, tipping into the wall to keep himself up. He can taste salt water on his tongue. It makes him want to vomit. 

Then there’s a steadying hand on his shoulder, ensuring he stays upright, and he sucks in a choked and salty breath. Dorcas’s thumb rubs into his skin, soothing and gentle. He can’t help himself- he leans into her touch, just the slightest bit.

“I need my wand,” He rasps again, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. 

“Reg,” Sirius says, rising from his seat. Regulus doesn’t look at him. Can’t.

“How are you feeling?” Euphemia asks, and he wonders distantly if she knows he practically killed her husband. She must’ve been the one to patch him up. 

“Can you tell us what happened, boy?” Moody asks, and Regulus does look at him then, pouring as much fury into his gaze as he possibly can. To his credit, Moody has the decency to shift on his feet, obviously a little uncomfortable. 

With some effort, Regulus directs his attention back to Snape. “You destroyed it?”

Snape nods. “Yeah. Easy.”

“Good. Good. How did you- I mean-” 

“The elf.”

“Kreature?”

Snape nods, jutting his chin towards the corner. Regulus follows his gaze and lets out a soft breath. Kreature hovers awkwardly, fisting his pillowcase and glaring around. He meets Regulus’s eyes and his expression softens a bit. Regulus nods in thanks. He wonders why the elf chose to stick around. 

“Reg,” Sirius says again. Regulus wants to acknowledge him. He does. But he can feel the one person he’s avoided the most burning holes in the side of his head and he decides to get it over with.  

Taking a steadying breath, he turns to look at James.

Shit.

Shit.

James’s eyes are wide and dark, filled with so many emotions Regulus doesn’t even know where to begin. His lips part, a short breath punching out of him when Regulus meets his gaze. The weight of everything they shared and then lost presses down on him suddenly, a barrage of memories and touches that only serve to further Regulus’s guilt. He takes a singular step forward.

And that’s what does it. 

James stands suddenly, face shutting down and going cold. Before anyone can say anything, he briskly walks around the couch and out of the room, jogging up the stairs.

Regulus lets out a breath, sagging against the wall. Yeah. Okay. Fine. 

“What the fuck,” Mckinnon whispers from the couch. Regulus had forgotten she was there.

“Regulus.” Sirius says again, firmer this time. “Talk. Tell us what happened. What did that to you? Why is Snape here?”

“I need my wand,” Regulus repeats.

“I’m afraid we can’t give that to you until you’ve been cleared,” Dumbledore says calmly. “For now, why don’t you focus on answering some of our questions. Would you like to sit?”

Yes, actually, very much, but Regulus refuses to give him the satisfaction. “I’m fine.” He looks around. Everyone’s still staring at him. He wishes they wouldn’t.

“How much do you want them knowing?” He asks Dumbledore, nodding at the rest of the room.

Dumbledore sighs. “I trust everyone here.”

“You trusted Peter too,” Regulus says, and watches as at least four people flinch.

“Peter was an anomaly. Everyone here has been cleared.” 

Regulus hesitates, swaying slightly. Every part of him aches. He wants to go back to bed. All of this is too much, too soon. He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat and coughs. “I won’t have this conversation while he’s in the room.” he says cooly, staring at Moody. Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t give him his wand. 

“Wait just a minute-” Moody starts, stepping forward.

“That seems fair,” Remus says from the couch, and Regulus gives him an appreciative glance. 

“Alastor,” Dumbledore says carefully. “Right now, our priority is ensuring Regulus’s safety. If that means that some people have to sit out on this conversation, so be it.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes at the safety comment but stands firm when Moody looks back at him. “Fine,” The man says gruffly. “But Albus, I expect you’ll fill me in completely when this is done.”

Dumbledore smiles politely as Moody bangs out of the room. Dorcas tightens her grip on Regulus’s shoulders and he hisses through his teeth.

“Can I get you a pain potion?” Effie asks, looking concerned, and Regulus still can’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“No,” He says. And then, softly: “Thank you.” He looks around. “Has Kreature not filled you in yet?”

“Kreature has been sparing with his details.” Dumbledore says stiltedly. Regulus smiles to himself. Good elf.

“Master Regulus has always liked to keep his business private,” Kreature mutters from the corner. “These blood traitors don’t deserve anything from him.”

“It’s true.” Regulus looks at him. “Did you get Snape?”

“You was telling me to give the necklace to Snape anyway. Kreature just thought he should bring him back.”

“Thank you, Kreature. You did very well.”

The elf mutters something unintelligible, but Regulus can see the faint blush painting his wrinkled cheeks.

“Would you like to go back to Grimmauld Place or stay here?” Regulus asks softly. 

The elf keeps his eyes on the ground. “Kreature lives to serve the Noble House of Black, Sir.”

“Then go, Kreature. Do not tell them- anything, actually. I trust your discretion. Thank you.”

Kreature looks him over one last time. “And Master Regulus will be alright?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. Go.”

Kreature nods, disappearing into the air. Regulus sighs. “He’s very helpful,” Snape mutters. “Even if he’s a little bastard.”

Regulus turns his attention back to Snape. “How’d you get me away from the inferi?”

“Light spell. They shrank back instantly. You should’ve thought of that.”

“I was a bit busy.”

“What, drowning?”

“Yeah, well.”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say thanks.”

“I-”

“I swear to god, if you say you didn’t need my help-”

Regulus scoffs. “I obviously needed your help. But-”

“Well, not obviously, since you seemed to think you could do that alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had Kreature.”

“Oh, you mean the elf you immediately sent away?”

“...I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“That much was obvious.”

“Excuse me,” Mckinnon cuts in from the couch. “I’m going to need some answers.” 

Both Snape and Regulus shoot her twin glares. Dorcas sighs. “Don’t look at her like that. None of us have been told what’s going on. You just dropped into our living room covered in blood, of course we’re going to have questions.”                       

Regulus nods grudgingly, still frowning. 

“So Snivillus really is a traitor,” Sirius muses. Snape scoffs, turning around. Regulus sways again, a wave of dizziness threatening to take him down. He did lose a lot of blood. Every movement hurts.

He pulls away from Dorcas and lowers himself to the ground, sitting against the wall with his knees to his chest. His whole body aches. He wishes he could see James. “How much have you told them?” He asks Dumbledore carefully. 

Dumbledore’s expression doesn’t change. Regulus nods. “Nothing, then. Okay. The Dark Lord took Kreature on some sort of mission. Kreature told me about it when he got back. I made him take me there. I figured it was about a Horcrux. As usual, I was right, and I dealt with it.”

Snape coughs. Regulus sighs. “ Snape dealt with it. I just procured it.” 

“And the cuts?” Dumbledore asks.

“The horcrux was in the middle of an inferi infested lake. I got… pulled in.” Regulus desperately tries not to think about it. He doesn’t have time for a panic attack right now.

“What’s a horcrux?” Remus interrupts.

“I’m not explaining this again,” Regulus says. “Dumbledore can. This isn’t my job.”

“In a minute,” Dumbledore nods. “Where is it now? The Horcrux?”

“Gone.” Snape says coldly. 

Dumbledore has the decency to look surprised. “Gone? How?”

“We have our ways,” Snape responds. Regulus nods from the ground.

“What ways?”

“Excuse me if we don’t trust you just yet,” Regulus grits. “You’re refusing to give me my wand.” 

“We need some sort of collateral here.”

“Right. You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, it’s a fair trade.” He pushes himself to his feet, aching. “I’m going to go talk to James.” The burning need in his chest has grown into something he can’t keep repressing.

“Wait,” Sirius says suddenly, and Regulus knows he knows. It hardly matters anymore.

“I mean-” Regulus pauses, feeling the sudden urge to ask for permission. “Can I?” It’s Effie, not Dumbledore, that he looks to.

“Of course, love,” She says, smiling slightly. He doesn’t know what to do with her kindness, choosing not to acknowledge it. He nods and moves towards the stairs. 

“You’re letting him near James?” he hears Sirius hiss behind him. “After what he did?”

Regulus hopes no one notices his flinch as he starts to climb.

“Regulus,” Dumbledore calls. “Ten minutes. I understand you’ll need some time to recover, but first- Moody will insist on a more… formal questioning.”

Regulus just sighs, ducking his head.

 

---

 

“I still think it’s stupid,” Barty says, rolling onto his back on the bed. “Getting werewolves involved with all this. They’re too unpredictable.”

“I don’t know,” Evan musses, staring at the ceiling. “The Dark Lord obviously had a plan.”

“One that failed. They’re only good one night a month.”

Evan frowns. “Yeah, and the rest of the time they make fine Death Eaters. They’re just normal followers with a little… added bonus.”

“Eh.” Barty shrugs. “Then why did they turn back into unconscious humans?”

“That was that potion. Not them.”

“Hm. I don’t know.” 

Barty’s been crashing at Rabstians more and more recently, sitting around and talking to Evan when he isn’t needed for his duties. On occasion, they don’t even speak- Barty reads or sleeps or just sits there, and Evan watches. Sometimes he looks out the window. Sometimes he looks at Barty. Evan has gotten used to the feeling of being pulled from the depths, the tug in his gut like a fishing line to Barty’s side. He goes willingly every single time- not that he could resist if he wanted to.

“I guess I’m glad they’re on our side and not theirs,” Barty huffs. “That would be difficult.”

“Not that they’d use them for violence. The Order is against all that.”

“I don’t know- they have Lupin.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t using him as a werewolf.”

“What’s their plan for when the war is over? With the wolves, I mean. What are they going to do with them?”

Evan cuts Barty a stern look. “Probably let them live out their lives? You forget they’re people ninety percent of the time.”

“Yeah, but you’d think the Dark Lord wouldn’t… I mean, their blood…”

“It’s a bit contradictory, isn’t it?” Evan prompts gently.

Barty just shrugs. Ignores him. “I wonder what’ll happen after we win. For all of us, I mean. Not just the werewolves.”

“What would you like to happen?”

Barty runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “I don’t even know. Maybe… Maybe we could convince Reg to get a flat somewhere. We could get one across the street, above a pub or something.”

Evan looks down at his hand, resting on the bed. He can see the pattern of the sheet just slightly through it, though he can’t actually feel the fabric against his skin. Something sad and lonely wells up inside of him, threatening to burst his seams. 

“Ev?” Barty asks after a second.

Evan swallows the feeling down and nods, voice raspy. “Yeah. That would be great. Maybe downtown London?”

“You have the funds for downtown london?”

“Could be a very small flat, maybe.”

“Uh huh.” Barty rolls over, looking at Evan. “What time is it?”

“Five thirty.”

“Shit,” Barty hisses, sitting up. “I’ve got a meeting. Can’t be late. See you when I get back?”

Evan nods silently as Barty grabs a jumper from the pile in the corner. “Course.”

Barty winks once and then disappears out the door. Evan sits on the bed for a moment, holding his breath. Barty always waits till the door closes and he’s out of sight to release the stone. He hates watching Evan go. 

Soon enough, the hold on him releases and he’s gone in the next second; fading into the darkness. The eternal ache in his stomach dissolves and he lets himself fall into peace. 

 

---

 

Regulus pauses in the hall, catching his reflection of a mirror on the wall. There’s a bandage on his neck, faint pink lines like claw marks cutting across his cheek. His eyes are red, lips blue. He looks for all the world like one of the corpses that did this to him.

He tears his eyes away. 

He finds James’s bedroom easily. He doesn’t know how he does it- it’s just a sense. He knocks, once, and waits. 

“You’re going to come in whether or not I tell you to, won’t you?” James asks quietly from inside. 

Regulus pushes the door open slowly, pausing in the threshold. He swallows. Tastes salt. 

James stares at the floor, shoulders trembling. Regulus moves forward, shifting on his feet. “James.”

James shakes his head, biting his lip. 

Regulus’s heart aches. “James, please. Look at me.”

James’s lashes flutter on his cheeks. “Hurts,” he says softly.

“What?”

“The sight of you- it- it hurts.”

Regulus takes a few steps back. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a second, he’s drowning again. “I know,” he finally manages, when he comes up for air. “You- when Bella was training me, and I had to learn to hide the memory of you, it hurt when I saw you again. I know what it’s like.”

“No, you don’t.”

“James-”

“Don’t even try to tell me you understand what I’m feeling right now. This- I can’t fucking look at you, Regulus.” 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers. 

James laughs, and it’s a cruel sound. “I just can’t believe I fell for it.”

“What?”

“You. Your whole thing. You really had me.”

Regulus leans against the door. A cut on his arms stings at the pressure, but he thinks his knees will give out if he has to keep standing alone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I thought-” James's voice cracks and he presses against his eyes under his glasses. “I really thought you loved me, Reg.”

Fuck.

“I did, I do-”

James shakes his head. “Not enough to try, not enough to fight for us-”

“You were going to die, James, I don’t know how many times-” He forces himself to suck in a breath. “The reason they were after you was because the Dark Lord saw you in my head. It was my fault. Mine. Our relationship was actively endangering you. And you refused to quit.”

“Because I loved you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” Regulus bites out, and they both go still. He takes a step forward. “Ever think of that? Maybe I was no good for you, James, and maybe I deserved none of what you gave me.”

For a long minute, James says nothing, focusing on the floor. Then he speaks, voice quiet and low. “Maybe not.”

Regulus’s knees do give out then, a mixture of exhaustion and pain and emotions bringing him to the floor. He lands hard, bracing himself with his hands. All of the cuts covering his frail body scream at the harsh movement and he bites his lip against a whimper. 

James is at his side in an instant, grabbing his shoulders and steadying him carefully. Regulus trembles, shuddering under his touch. He makes another involuntary sound, squeezing his hands into fists on the floor.

James’s eyes are frantic, scanning his face. “Are you okay? Should I get Mum?”

Regulus shakes his head, not trusting his voice. A sob claws its way up his throat and he chokes it down, turning to bury his face in James’s shoulder instead. His eyes are wet, he realizes, embarrassingly enough.

James pulls back, pushing him away and setting him against the door frame. He looks him over carefully, lips drawing tight. “You’re bleeding through some of your bandages.”

Regulus looks down and nods. James stands slowly. “I’m not going to fix it. Not again. I’m done with that.” 

Regulus just nods, holding his eyes. “I know.” 

“Good.” 

“We can talk, soon, though?” Regulus asks, hating the hopeful note in his voice.

“I don’t know.” A pause. “I can’t bear the sight of you.” He crosses to his dresser, throwing a shirt at Regulus. “Dress. I’ll see you later.”

Regulus nods, and James leaves, just like that. Regulus puts on the shirt and stays on the ground, focusing on his breathing, until Remus comes to get him.
He can feel Remus staring at him for a long moment. He refuses to look at him. Eventually, Remus settles down across from him, tilting his head. “Do you want me to stall Dumbledore?” He asks calmly.

Regulus hangs his head. “I don’t know. I don’t-” 

“You just nearly died, Regulus. I think it’s alright to need a moment.” 

“They don’t trust me. They won’t let me rest till they do. And I need to find somewhere to sleep-”

“That’s stupid,” Remus interrupts. “Stay here. We have the bed. You already slept in it, technically.”

Regulus shakes his head. “Euphemia-”

“Are you kidding me? She practically collects kids. She’s never letting you leave.”

“I’m a Death Eater.”

“Nah. Not really. If what Dumbledore just explained is true, then you’re the farthest thing from it.”

“Sirius-”

“-will get over himself. He’s just a little torn up about the James situation.”

Regulus winces. “Right.”

“How’s that going?”

“I think he hates me.”

Remus smiles. “As if he could ever.”

“He won’t look at me.”

“Well, right now, you aren’t exactly all that easy to look at.”

Regulus bites his lip. He knows. 

Remus sighs. “The scars- they’ll- you’ll get used to them. Even like them, maybe, if you’re lucky.”

“These will scar?”

Remus looks him over. “A few of them, yeah. Not all, by the looks of it.”

“Great. Good.”

"Sirius says scars are sexy." 

Regulus pulls a face. "I don't want to know what my brother says about scars."

“Could you- I mean- and tell me to shut up if this is stupid, but it’s the same as the mark, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“A permanent physical reminder of your commitment to the cause. I think, well. I think the scars kind of cancel out the tattoo, don’t you?”

Regulus doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t even know where to begin. “Oh.” he says. He chooses not to think about it. “Dumbledore said I only have ten minutes,” he mentions quietly. 

“Well. If I say I found you passed out up here, I bet he’ll let you sleep a bit.”

“What does he want?”

“Moody wants a good old fashioned interrogation. He gave Dorcas one.”

“I won’t take veritaserum.”

“That might be an issue.”

“Then I won’t say anything with Moody there. As soon as I get my wand, I’m going to-”

“I know. I think that’s why they’re keeping it. That and, you know, until recently they thought you were working for Voldemort.”

Regulus shakes his head, tired. “Dumbledore knew.” 

“I guess he did. Which, honestly, is a whole other thing, but… either way, you’ll need to be cleared first.”

“I’m so tired.”

Remus looks sympathetic, shockingly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Effie will really let me stay? Just for the night?”

“For forever, if you want.”

“I feel… bad. After what I did to James-”

“Don’t.” Remus glances up. “We should go. Dumbledore’s patience has a limit, and if you don’t want Moody doing the interrogating, then-”

“Right. Fine.” With Remus’s help, Regulus rises shakily to his feet. They make their way back downstairs. Dumbledore gives him a light smile.

“Now that you’ve recuperated a bit, we’ll just be asking you a few questions. Would you be so kind as to take this?” He holds out a small vial. Regulus stares at it for a long moment. He looks up.

“Who will be questioning me?”

“Actually,” Dumbledore says coolly, “I thought I’d have the boys start. I need to have some words with Mr. Snape here, and besides. The intro bit I know already. Plus, Mr. Black here tells me he’d like some privacy, at least at first.”

Regulus looks at Sirius, who grimaces right on back. “No Moody?” He asks carefully. 

“Would you allow him?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Right.” Regulus takes the vial from Dumbledore, uncorking it and swallowing its contents quickly, pulling a face at the taste. He turns around and heads down the hall, back into the bedroom he woke up in. He takes a seat at the desk on one side of the room, taking a few deep breaths before the others catch up. 

It’s James and Remus that find him first. Remus takes a seat on the bed, James leans against the wall. Regulus looks between them. “Well?”

“We left Sirius outside. We thought it’d be best to give him a moment.” 

Regulus nods. “Alright.”

Remus sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Fine. Let's get this over with.” 

---

 

Regulus leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. He keeps looking between James and Remus as if one of them might attack at any moment. The bandages peek out from under the collar of his shirt and Remus winces in pity. He knows what new scars feel like- fresh and tight against your skin, a constant reminder that sparks everytime you move. He can tell Regulus is feeling it, judging by the contant micro shifts he makes in his seat.

“We need a question to make sure the veritaserum is working,” Remus says, looking to James. 

James stays cool, eyes fixed on Regulus. “Where did you sneak off to all of 6th year?”

Regulus’s expression changes in an instant, shock and something else creeping in around the edges. “To visit the Basilisk,” he says, as if the words are being yanked from his throat. 

James, showing no sympathy, nods. “It’s working.”

Remus glances up at him. “What does that mean? What? What Basilisk?” A distant memory of a library and a book tugs at the back of his mind but he pushes past it in favor of focusing on the conversation. 

James just shrugs quietly. “You can ask him questions now.”

“R-right.” Remus turns back to Regulus. “Er- okay. So, I guess, do you support Voldemort?”

“No.”

“And you aren’t working for him in any way?”

“No.”

“Good. And how did you find out about the horcruxes?”

Regulus’s hands twitch. “Saskia told me.”

Remus feels his brow furrow. “Who’s-”

“Don’t,” James interrupts. Remus bites his tongue, even though it would be so easy. 

“Why did you decide to switch sides?”

“After- after school ended last summer.”

“Why?”

“I was sick of doing his dirty work, I suppose.” Regulus looks up at James, apparently done entertaining Remus’s questions. “Won’t you ask me something?”

James’s expression doesn’t change. “Like what?”

“Like why I did it- or, or if I still care- let me prove to you that I had to.”

James refuses to meet Remus’s eyes. “Fine. Why’d you do it?”

“To protect you,” Regulus says immediately. “To keep you safe.” 

James snorts. “Right.”

“I did, I swear.”

“Do you regret it?”

Regulus’s blinks. “No.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“Yes.”

“What the most?”

Regulus hesitates for a moment, lips moving but no words coming out. Finally: “Leaving Evan’s side that day on the beach.”

Oh. Shit. That’s depressing. 

James blinks as if he’s coming back to himself. “I’m sorry about that,” he says eventually. “I don’t think I ever said that."

“Not your fault,” Regulus says slowly. “And you did. Say it, I mean.”

James looks confused for a moment, eyes glazing over. “Did I?”

Regulus tips his head to the side, examining him. Remus sees the exact moment he realizes he has a chance at the upper hand. “You don’t have all your memories back, do you?”

James takes a step back. “Yes I do.”

“Really?”

“They just- aren’t all in the right order.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I remember everything now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did we first talk?” 

James looks away and Remus can see a muscle in his jaw tick. “Do you mean the hallway? Or the Astronomy tower?”

“When was the first time you kissed me?”

“Regulus-“ Remus starts, because he can see where this is going. James, apparently, can not.

“You kissed me. And it was after McGonagal took me to see my dad and he told me the potions were working. You were playing your violin.”

Regulus leans forward slightly, eyes sharp. The way he’s looking at James makes Remus’s stomach clench. Because (he makes a mental note to never look Sirius in the eyes again) he can see it. He can see what James sees. Someone beautiful and cruel and dangerous, dark and powerful but soft at the same time. Right now, though, Regulus doesn’t look soft. He looks fucking hungry.

“Where did we meet up?”

“The Come and Go room.”

“Why?”

“To make my dad’s potions.”

“Is that all we did in there?”

Remus can see James start to crack as his lashes flutter. “…no.”

“And what did you bring me nearly everyday?”

“Bread pudding.”

“Why?” 

“It was your favorite.”

Regulus tips his head and his curls fall into his gaze. Shit, Remus thinks, staring at the pink lines streaking up Regulus's face. Maybe Sirius is right about scars. “It only became my favorite after you started bringing it.” 

James’s eyes go wide. 

Regulus smirks. “How often did we meet?”

“A few times a week.”

“What did you say your favorite part of me was?”

“…your eyes.”

Regulus pupils dilate, a predator moving in on his prey. “Was it a couch or a bed in there?”

James’s ears turn pink. “Started as a couch, ended as a bed.” The pair are staring at each other now, eyes locked, and Remus starts to wonder if Regulus is smarter than he’s given him credit for. 

“And tell me- what did I do in that bed the night after Gryffindor won the championship?” 

With that, James’s whole face flushes beet red. Turning on his heel, he huffs out: “I- I can’t- I can’t do this. I’m sending in Sirius.”

Regulus sits back in his chair, satisfied, and James lets the door bang shut on his way out. Remus turns slowly to look at Regulus. “Well.”

“Well.”

“That was effective. I told you he doesn’t hate you.”

The confidence in Regulus’s eyes flickers. “He still does. He just- remembers he wanted me once.”

“I think, if anything, he remembered he still does.” 

“You aren't very good at this interrogation thing.”

“You are, though. That was, circumstances notwithstanding, quite funny.”

Regulus’s lips quirk up in the corners, and Remus feels himself smiling. And then the door behind him opens up and Regulus’s face falls immediately. Remus turns to see Sirius and Dumbledore enter. Sirius looks between them. “James refuses to come back in. You did a good job scaring him off.”

“Yeah, well.” Regulus sighs, running a hand through his hair and then wincing when the movement tugs on a cut. 

“What have you covered so far?” Dumbledore asks Remus.

“Uh- he’s not working for Voldemort.”

“...That’s all you’ve established?”

Remus shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t know what else there is to ask. That seemed to be the important bit.”

“What information do you have on Voldemort?”

Regulus hesitates, opens his mouth- “Can you be more specific?”

“How much do you know about his childhood?”

“Very little.” 

“And how many more Horcruxes do you know about?”

“None. I’ve been figuring it out as I go along.”

“Okay. One last question, then I’m done.” Dumbledore sighs. “Regulus. Do you have any intention of acting against the Order?”

“No.” 

“Alright.” Dumbledore nods, running a hand over his beard. “I’ll go talk to Moody, soothe his fear a bit. As far as I’m concerned, you make a trustworthy and valuable asset, Mr. Black.”

Remus watches Regulus digest that, eyes widening slightly. He looks down. “Where’s Snape?”

“I sent him home. He, too, was cleared.” 

“Oh.” 

Dumbledore sighs. “Well. Regulus, I imagine we’ll be having many conversations in the upcoming days, but you look tired. Why don’t we let you rest for a while?”

Regulus nods quietly. He glances at Remus quickly, as if for reassurance, who nods and leans in. “I’ll ask Effie about tonight. Just in case. You should sleep, though, in here.”

He stands, following Dumbledore out. Sirius doesn’t move. He catches Remus’s gaze, smiles a bit. “I’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “Just give me a second with him.”
Remus nods, biting his lip and glancing back at Regulus, small in his chair. “Good luck,” he whispers, then disappears out the door. 

 

---

 

Sirius pushes off the wall, stalking towards Regulus, who tenses slightly. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “It’s taking everything in you not to run right now, isn’t it?”

Regulus almost laughs. He stands, slowly, wincing against the pull of his wounds. He sinks down next to his brother. “This bed is too soft.”

Sirius’s lips twitch. “Yeah, well. It takes a minute to adjust after the concrete blocks at Number Twelve.” 

“Good for your posture, though.”

Sirius smiles. “I’m sure it is.”

Neither of them speak for a long minute. Sirius smooths his hands over his thighs. “So, James.”

Regulus sighs. “How’d you find out?”

“He was in… a state, after we escaped. Don’t think he knew what he was saying, really.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No.” 

“Are you more mad at me, or him?”

Sirius glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Now who’s interrogating who?”

Regulus shrugs. “I’m curious.”

“Him. Always him. I- well. I understand how easy James is to love. I don’t blame you, not really.”

Regulus nods. “He… it killed him not to tell you.” 

“I don’t think it did. I think he liked having you all to himself.” 

“I don’t know about all that. He was always pushing me to talk to you.”

Sirius flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you, then?”

After a moment, Regulus joins him. “I did. I tried. On the astronomy tower, remember?”

“When you told me about the imperio?”

“Yes.”

“Was that his idea?”

“Sort of. He- he found out, I guess, that I could throw off Maman’s spells, and thought that I’d lied to him. If it helps, that’s one of the only times he’s gotten mad at me for a mistake. He wouldn’t let me near him, Sirius, when he thought I’d hurt you.”

Sirius lets out a harsh breath. “He’s so frustratingly loyal.”

“Trust me,” Regulus says, lying back next to him. “I know.”

Neither of them speak for a moment. Sirius breaks the silence. “How long did it take you to accept you were into blokes?”

And if that’s not a gut punch Regulus isn’t ready for. He lets out a huff. “I’ve known. I accepted it a long time ago.” 

“But Walburga doesn’t k-”

“She does, probably. We don’t talk about it. It’s easier to ignore, on both our ends.”

“And James?”

“Honestly, I think he had a harder time of it than I did.”

“You made the first move? Why?”

Regulus lets out a brittle laugh. His throat burns. The vertiserum forces an answer off his tongue anyway. “Fuck, Sirius, I’ve been in love with him since first year.”

“ What?”

“Yeah.”

“What.”

“I know.”

“And you obliviated him? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“It was hard, you know. Watching him lose himself these past few months.”

Regulus focuses on the ceiling. “I promise you it was harder watching him destroy himself for me.” He’s tired, really, the weight of the fight against the water and the bodies tugging at his eyelids. 

“I can’t- I’m mad at him, but you hurt him. I can’t forgive you for that.” 

“I did what I had to do.”

“And Monty?”

“What about him?”

“You made him potions.”

“I did.”

“Why? For James?”

“No.” Regulus closes his eyes. This is interesting, he thinks. The potion is drawing truths out of him he didn’t even know were there. “Because I wanted to do something other than hurt. I wanted to make up for all the wrong I did.”

“What did you do that was so wrong?”

Regulus balls his hands into fists. The veritaserum works its magic. “I made a potion. For the Dark Lord. I sent ten muggles into a coma. They still haven’t woken up.”

Sirius sucks into a breath next to him. “Voldemort wanted people put in a coma?”

“No. He wanted me to kill them. But I couldn’t. So I altered the potion, just enough to keep them alive.”

His brother goes quiet for a long moment. “Well. For all your evil,” he murmurs eventually. “That was a very brave thing to do.”

“No it wasn’t. They might never wake up.”

“You defied the darkest wizard history has ever known. I’d count that as brave.”

Regulus lets out a long breath. “I think you and I have different definitions of the word.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the Gryffindor. I have authority here.”

“Do you.”

“Yep.”

Regulus yawns, turning his head to bury it into the blanket. “Do you think James will forgive me?” he mumbles, keeping his eyes closed. 

“Yes.”

“Will you forgive him?”

“...Yes. No. Maybe.” 

“Don’t you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Sirius pauses. Regulus doesn’t open his eyes, burying further into the blanket under him. He may fall asleep if Sirius doesn’t say something soon- turns out fighting for your life takes a lot out of you. “He messed with my brother,” Sirius says quietly. “You don’t do that.”

“You’re telling me if James had a brother you wouldn’t be all over him?”

Sirius chuckles dryly. “I’ve got Moony.”

“Oh you do, do you.”

“I admit it would be tempting.”

Regulus nods, barely awake. “Make things complicated, at the very least.”

“James is plenty capable of doing that all on his own.”

“Mm.”

“You should sleep. You lost… a lot of blood.”

“Trying,” Regulus mumbles. He feels the bed shift as Sirius stands.

Regulus isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but it feels for all the world like Sirius brushes his hair away from his face. “Fais de beaux rêves, Reg,” He whispers, and then he’s gone, and Regulus lets himself drift.

---

Evan walks next to Barty, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes. He’s in a bad mood today- Merlin knows why. The busy city street is crowded, bustling with pedestrians and muggles going every which way. Evan quickly gets used to people walking straight through him.

“Here,” Barty says, popping into a corner store. Evan waits outside, testing the limit of the stone, and watches a bird pass overhead. He wonders where it’s going. He wonders if he could join it. He imagines the wind under his wings, the air surrounding him. Maybe he’d fly high enough to disappear into space, dissolving into the darkness past the stars. He’d like that, he thinks. 

A minute- or maybe a few- later, Barty steps back out, a cigarette hanging from his lip and a fresh pack in his hand. He offers one to Evan, who stares at him incredulously for a moment. 

When Barty doesn’t seem to see the issue, he just shakes his head and sighs, pushing off the wall. He walks ahead, shoving through the crowd, watching people pass through his body and feeling nothing.

The stone tugs him back, though, and he hesitates long enough for Barty to catch up to him. “Merlin,” Barty huffs, lighting the cig with a cupped hand. “Someone’s in a bad mood today. Relax, will you?”

Evan shakes his head, wishing he could feel the breeze. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Barty takes a drag. Evan doesn’t look at him. Barty jogs until he’s in front of him, turning until he’s walking backwards down the sidewalk. “Come on, baby, what’s wrong?”

Evan feels his face fall, something heavy settling in his gut. He stops walking. Barty pauses. “...What?” He asks cautiously.

“Why couldn’t you call me that when I was alive?” Evan murmurs.

Barty’s eyes flicker. He takes another drag from the cigarette, turning back around to keep walking. 

“Oh, and now you won’t look at me.” 

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know.” His gut tugs and Evan has to start walking again, following Barty down the sidewalk. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” 

They walk in silence for a while. Once, Evan tries standing still, resisting the pull of the stone until it becomes unbearable.

“Come on,” Barty says, turning around once he notices he isn’t following. “What are you waiting for?”

Evan lets out a short breath and trips forward, stumbling slightly. “Barty.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“No. You won’t listen to me.”

“Fucking try me, then.” 

Evan rolls his eyes. “You look mental right now.” It’s true. To passerbys, Barty has been spending the past five minutes arguing with the air. 

“Bloody- fine. Come on.” Barty whirls around and ducks into the nearest alley, leaning against the wall and waiting till Evan catches up. 

“I hate chasing you,” he spits when he does.

Barty shrugs, tapping his cigarette on the wall. Evan watches the cinders settle to the ground. Ashes to ashes , he thinks, and then dismisses the thought.

“I don’t understand why you insist on making everything a battle,” Barty mutters. “Can’t we just walk around without fighting?”

Evan sighs. “We don’t fight. We never fight. You just aren’t used to me disagreeing with you.”

“So, what? This isn’t a fight?”

“I don’t know. I’m tired.” Evan runs a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t even understand why you’re mad,” Barty hisses.

“Of course you don’t.”

“Then fucking tell me.” Barty says, pushing off the wall and shoving Evan in the chest.

Except he doesn’t.

His hands pass straight through, meeting the brick on the other side.

Both Evan and Barty let out little twin sounds, and Barty pulls back so quickly he stumbles a bit. Evan suddenly feels all the aches of being seventeen and dead rush back in and he wants nothing more than to hug Barty, to wrap his arms around him and pull him to his chest and keep him there.

Barty’s eyes go wide, lips parted as he stares. And then he turns, and keeps walking. Out of the alley, down the street. Evan follows. 

He catches up to him after a second, and they walk quietly for a while. “I should get back to Rabastians,” Barty says, trying to keep his voice light. 

“You could apparate,” Evan says, though everything in him revolts at the thought. To apparate, Barty would have to let go of the stone, and Evan would go back to the darkness. Usually a soothing thought, the idea of not being with Barty makes his skin crawl.

“Nah,” Barty says, an attempt at casual. “It’s a nice day out. I think I’ll walk.”

Evan lets out a small breath, nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

So they walk, and Evan doesn’t look at any more birds. 

 

---

 

Regulus wakes up slowly. There’s morning sun on his face, seeping through his eyelids and dragging him up from the land of sleep. He blinks, once twice, then opens his eyes. 

He feels, surprisingly, rested. He stretches a bit in bed, still feeling the ache of the cuts but less now. He must’ve slept a long time. 

He finds Effie in the kitchen. She’s washing dishes, head bowed. Regulus hesitates in the doorway for a moment, then steps in carefully, aware of every movement. “Ms. Potter?”

He asks, voice still thick with sleep.

Effie blinks and looks up, a warm smile creeping across her face. “Regulus! How did you sleep?” She steps to the side to make room for him at the sink next to her. He tentatively moves closer. 

“Fine, thank you.” He looks down at his feet. “I wanted to… thank you. For patching me up and letting me stay the night.”

“I should hope you’ll stay plenty more,” Effie hums. “And don’t worry about it. Believe it or not, Sirius was in much worse shape when he got here.”

Regulus winces. “Yeah, but Sirius wasn’t a… I mean…”

“I’ve known about your loyalties for a while, Regulus. No one truly working for Voldemort would work so hard to brew potions for my husband.”

Regulus swallows, looking out the window and into the garden. “I’m sorry, by the way. About Fleamont. I should’ve done more. You- you must hate me.”

A flash of pain flickers across her face before it’s gone. “I don’t. I never did. It was Monty’s choice to stop taking the potions. That’s not on you.”

“But I could’ve tried harder to find a less painful cure, or-”

“You were sixteen. You did more than the best doctors have ever been able to.” She gives him a soft smile. “Will you dry?”

He nods quickly, moving forward and grabbing a towel. Neither of them speak for a long moment. “What about James, then?” Regulus mumbles to the dishes. 

She lets out a sigh. “That- that’s not my business.”

“He’s your son. I hurt him.”

“You also saved him. And we both know he would’ve hurt himself first.”

Regulus nods, not daring to dwelve into the subject further. He wipes down a plate and setting it in the rack and glances at Euphemia out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to… I mean, I can find somewhere to stay.”

Euphemia smiles. “You think James and Sirius will let you go now that they finally have you? Please stay, at least for now.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

Effie rinses a dish and hands it to him. “How about this. For all the things you think you’ve done, to James, to Sirius, for all the things you’ve convinced yourself you need to apologize for, make it up to them by staying. Just for now.”

Regulus sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I can- I can do that. My parents probably think I’m dead.”

Euphemia winces. “I don’t think there’s any safe way to tell them you aren’t, unfortunately.”

“No.” Regulus agrees. “And it’s fine. I don’t- I have nothing else to say to them. After everything.”

He feels more that sees Effie’s smile. “I agree.”

He watches her work for a long second, examining her face. “Where did Dorcas and Marlene go?” He asks after a moment.

“Home. Last night, after you went upstairs. They wanted to stay, but Dumbledore dismissed them. They’ll definitely be by later, though.”

Regulus nods. They wash and dry the dishes in silence for a long time. Eventually Regulus sets a bowl into the rack and glances at Euphemia out of the corner of his eye. “Are you going to tell James about the Dragonpox?”

Her hands go still on the sponge, every muscle locking up. She stares at the sink. Regulus can see her chest moving as she breathes, silent in the early morning air.

“How did you know?” She asks eventually, the plate she's holding shaking slightly in her grip. 

“Glamour. On your neck. It’s good, but it blinks sometimes when you aren’t focusing.” Regulus reaches over, gently taking the plate from her before she can drop it. He turns on the tap to rinse it off. “You should be careful. James- James knows how to see through glamour.” 

Effie shakes her head, ducking it down. Regulus finds himself once again staring at her neck, the patch of skin that flickers in and out. He can see the start of green scales creeping up from her collar. He noticed almost immediately.

“How long?” Regulus asks quietly.

“Long enough. The scales have been there for at least a month now. Honestly, it’s a blessing it didn’t happen sooner, what with Monty and everything.”

He waits for her to continue. She does, after a moment. “I- I haven’t told anyone yet. No point. Not now, when everyone’s so miserable anyway. James- his head- he confessed to me he thought he was getting sick.”

The flash of guilt that runs through Regulus at that is astonishing in its severity. He swallows. 

“I couldn’t tell him, after that. He’s young. Too young to get sick, but old enough to worry. I will, though, in a minute. I know how he felt when Monty kept things from him.” She’s talking quickly, scrubbing at the same spot on a bowl. 

Regulus hesitates. “I’m not- It’s your secret to tell. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Effie puts the bowl down and braces herself on the sink. “I’ll tell him.” she mutters, and it sounds like she’s convincing herself more than him. 

Regulus nods, unsure of his role here. “If you want.”

“Of course I don’t want to. But I will.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well, I obviously should’ve been hiding it better. It’s not your fault. And maybe it was time.” She laughs hollowly. “You probably think I’m a horrible mother.”

Regulus stares at her, shaking his head. “You- as far as mothers go-” He clears his throat and looks down. “I don’t think you’re a bad mother. And I can’t judge you. For anything.”

She smiles at him, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Would you like some breakfast, Regulus?”

He swallows, throat still slightly sore. He nods, after a moment. “Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

“And after, I’ll re-do your bandages and see if I can’t heal what’s left some more.”

Regulus bites his lip and lets her lead him to the counter, taking a hesitant seat. “Maybe I could get my wand after too?"

"Has Albus not given that back yet? Yes, of course you will."

Regulus nods his thanks. "If you’d like, I could try and make more potions. They hurt, I know that now, but they did slow it down. They gave him more time.”

Effie pauses, resting her hands on the counter. “Yes. They did. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. But I’m okay. I am. I’m going to live until I can’t anymore. I don’t want to rely on a potion to get me through the day.”

Regulus doesn’t push the point, tipping his head to the side.. “I think,” he confesses, “if I was in your shoes, I’d make the same choice.” 

“You understand, then.”

“I do.”

“Good.” Effie turns around and busies herself with eggs. “Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“You should talk to James.”

He groans quietly and lets his head fall forward, forehead resting on the counter. At the stove, Effie laughs, and for a moment, everything is golden. 

 

---

James bites his lip, knuckles hesitating over the door. He gathers his courage and knocks, stepping back when the door swings open. “Sirius. Please- I- can we talk?”

Sirius looks up from his bed, dark hair spilling over his shoulders. His eyes fix on James’s, tired and sad. “Yeah,” he says eventually, though it comes out more like a sigh. “Yeah. We should. Come inside.”

So James sucks in the deepest breath he can, and steps through the doorway. 

Notes:

Im having so much fun with Evan rn if you can't tell
Sorry Effie... my bad
This chapter is just people being nice to Reg and him not knowing what the fuck to do with their kindness
next chapter more conversations and also plot! finally! can we get back to politics? please?!
Thanks for reading <3

Chapter 64: The Diary

James hesitates in the middle of the room, twisting his hands in his shirt. Usually things are so easy between them. Words have never before been an issue- Sirius has a way of drawing truths out of him. 

Now, though, James has no idea what to say. 

“I…” He starts, trailing off into nothing. 

Sirius stares at him, no pity in his gaze. “What?”

“I don’t know,” James breathes, sucking in a heavy breath between words. “How to fix this. With you.”

“Right.”

“I want to, though, if that’s not clear.”

“Right.” 

“Do you- I mean, you can say what you need to to me. I’ll listen.”

“Of course you will.”

James huffs in frustration, shifting on his feet. “Give me something here.”

“What do you want me to say? That I forgive you?”

James blinks at him. “...Yeah, kind of.” 

Sirius just shrugs. “I don’t.”

James deflates. “How do I change your mind?”

“Go back and find a time turner. And actually tell me your mystery boy was Regulus. Or- better yet- never get into a relationship with him in the first place.”

“I… can’t do that.”

“No shit.” 

“What is there, then?”

“Maybe nothing.”

“You agreed when I said we should talk. You obviously want to fix this.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes. “I want you not to have dated my brother.”

“I didn’t- we didn’t-”

“What was it then? Because if you think I’m mad now, imagine what will happen if you tell me you were just fucking.”

James shakes his head quickly. “No. No. That wasn’t- no.”

Sirius looks down, glaring at the floor. “So what then?”

“I don’t know. I loved him.”

“I’m going to tear my eyes out.”

“Please don’t.” 

“What about in the beginning, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“In the beginning, when we both hated him. What changed?”

James shrugs helplessly. “I got to know him.”

“And how long into getting to know him did you find out he was imperioed when he cut me?”

James opens his mouth. Closes it. “Before I loved him,” he offers eventually. Sirius just shakes his head. 

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. And- and I did, remember? Or sort of. I asked you about it once.”

“Right.”

“Well- Well what would you have done, Pads?” James says desperately, stepping forward. “How could I have told you when I knew you’d react exactly like you are right now?”

“You don’t think it would’ve helped things between me and Reg?”

“No. You’ve always resented each other because of me.”

“How could I not? Apparently he was your first choice this entire time.”

James groans. “No, Sirius- that’s- did you think this is about that? I was never choosing him.”

“You were, though. By not telling me, you were.”

“Hardly. I was… I was in love, Sirius. With the wrong person. I had no idea how to deal with it. I still don’t. And how do you think he felt when you left him for me?” 

“And now you’re defending him,” Sirius laughs bitterly. “Great.”

“No. That’s not-”

“You know I had to leave. And you’re blaming me for it. He really has gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

“Sirius. Listen. I’m not- of course I understand you had to leave. And I am so, so glad you did. I’m just explaining that you’re both bitter over the same thing, with me at the root of it. There would be no clean and easy way for us to have this conversation. Not now, not ever.”

“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t have been angry about you keeping it from me.” 

James sighs. “He was saving my dad, Sirius.”

“You don’t think I would’ve liked to know that?”

“Well.”

Sirius’s eyes glint. “You asked him again, didn’t you? After he cursed you? You told me.”

“Yeah. Well. Great minds.”

“The great minds here being current you and past you?”

“I guess so.” 

“And you… what else did you redo since getting obliviated?”

James pointedly refuses to meet Sirius’s eyes. The other boy groans. “I knew it.” 

“I- what-” James sputters. “I’m still me. And apparently every version of me is into Regulus.”

“In some ways that makes me glad. It means at least it was real.”

James softens. “Of course it was real. You think I’d do this to you if it wasn’t?”

“When did you find out he was trying to kill Voldemort, then? When did he tell you?”

Something heavy falls to the bottom of James’s gut. Fuck. “When he told me about the beach, but really when I was trapped in his room.”

He watches Sirius’s eyes widen. “No, I mean before you were obliviated.”

James shrugs, too far into this hole. “I know. Before, after, it’s all the same.”

“You… you didn’t know until then?”

“Yeah.”

“So. So all that time at school. What did you do when he talked about Voldemort?”

“I comforted him.”

“And when you knew he was going to the meetings?”

“I… I knew he wasn’t doing anything bad.”

“And when you found out he had the mark?”

Everything goes still and James’s breath catches in his throat. “I pretended I didn't see it,” he whispers softly.

Sirius’s face shuts down so fast James wishes he could take it back. Suddenly, everything is different, and the last of the warmth gets sucked from the room.

“You dated a Death Eater?”

“We didn’t date. And he wasn’t- isn’t a Death Eater.”

“But you didn’t know that, did you? You knew he was going to the meetings, you knew he had the mark, and you just… what? Looked past it?”

“I knew he didn’t mean it. I knew that wasn’t him. He had to, Pads, he had no choice-”

“But you had a choice. And you chose to stay with someone with that on their arm.”

“He never wanted it.”

“He told you that?”

“No. He… he didn’t mention the mark until the last possible minute. In an attempt to get me to leave.”

“Merlin, James.” Sirius stands, running his hands over his face. “Even he knew it was worth leaving for.”

“I- I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

James just stares at him, heart clenching. This is what he was afraid of. This is the one thing he can’t defend. Because Sirius is right- he did know Regulus had the mark. And he didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t even bring it up. And he thought- he thought - that Regulus didn’t want it, but he couldn’t prove it. He really had no way of knowing. 

So he has nothing to say. 

Sirius sighs, long and drawn out. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” James lies. 

“It’s- just- why him, James? Why did it have to be him?” Sirius lets his hands fall away from his face, watching him with sad eyes.

“I don’t know. I don’t.”

“Will you stay away from him? Can you at least do that?”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” James half-laughs. “I can’t even stand to look at him right now.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because it fucks with your head?”

James goes quiet then, pressing his lips together. Sirius nods, just once, and moves towards the door. “Good talk.” he grouses, disappearing down the hall.

James watches, falling into the bedpost and heaving a deep breath. So much for progress. Remus will be disappointed.

Regulus is somewhere downstairs, maybe in the bedroom he’s been appointed, maybe with Effie. James isn’t sure, but he can feel his presence, can feel him haunting the house. For how much energy he put into getting him here, actually having him around hurts a lot more than he thought it would. Every thought of him aches. 

But he doesn’t have to talk to him. Doesn’t even have to look at him if he doesn’t want to. He’s never been so angry. 

But Sirius- Sirius he needs. And Sirius just walked away. 

It’s fine, he tells himself. They’ll make up. They just need time. Maybe one conversation isn’t enough to make up for years of betrayal. He sits on Sirius’s bed, hoping for all the world that no one will bother him for the rest of the day. 

He, of course, is wrong.

 

---

 

Regulus spends most of his afternoon avoiding various members of the order. Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas come over at some point, playing chess with Remus as he catches them up on the situation. Regulus hides in what he’s deemed his room for half of it, rewrapping his bandages, and then eventually slinks out to get some water in the kitchen. He holds his glass to his chest, leaning back against the fridge and staring at the scene in the living room. 

Lily whispers commands to her pieces, kneeling on the floor in front of the coffee table. Remus sits cross-legged across from her, glaring at the board like the spite in his gaze will force his knights into better positions. 

Marlene has draped herself across the couch, resting her chin on her hands. Regulus watches her eyes flick across the game and wonders how she’s so relaxed right now. Dorcas appears in the kitchen, sideling up to him quietly. She watches the group in the living room, humming softly under her breath. “Gryffindors," She mutters. “Always so comfortable.”

Regulus glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re talking to me.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well, I have no reason not to anymore.”

Regulus smiles softly. Then a thought occurs to him and he feels his face fall. “How- don’t they know the Dark Lord is actively looking for me? None of them are safe here.”

Dorcas raises a brow. “Are you sure you’re that important?”

Regulus thinks of Harold’s magic, rotting somewhere deep inside him. He thinks of the horcruxes. “Yes.”

“Eh. No chance Moody and Dumbledore will let you out of their sight now, anyway. And the wards here are strong.”

“The wards at Grimmauld Place are strong too,” Regulus grouses. “Sirius got through those just fine.”

“Do the Potters have any ex-communicated children we should be on the lookout for?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then we should be fine, shouldn’t we?”

“Mm.”

Dorcas reaches over, gently ghosting her finger over a fresh pink scar winding around his forearm. Even that hurts and he jerks away with a hiss. She watches him cooly. “How bad is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“How bad was it when you were in the water?”

Regulus stares at the living room, fingers tight around his glass. He doesn’t like to think about this. Hasn’t let himself. If he waits, if he pauses, the water creeps in around the edges of his vision and threatens to fill his lungs, just like it used to. Now, though, the water is no longer imagined. It's wet and consuming and all too real. Now, there are hands. 

He blinks quickly, flicking his gaze down to the floor. Dorcas takes that as an answer and decides to move on. “Have you seen Barty?”

Regulus sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re really committing to the light topics today, aren't you?”

Dorcas ignores him. “No one here cares. You care.”

And that’s fair, Regulus supposes. “I have. Talked to him, that is.”

“How… how is he?”

Regulus shrugs. Takes a sip of water. “He’s Barty.”

“And… and… on the beach-”

Regulus shudders inwardly. “Barty took him somewhere. He’s… I don’t know. At peace, maybe.”

Dorcas inhales shakely, crossing her arms. “Knowing Evan, I doubt it.”

Regulus sighs. “Well.” 

“Oi, Dorcas!” Marlene calls from the couch in the other room.

Regulus goes stiff, feeling deeply uncomfortable. He has his wand, finally, but still. None of these people are safe, save maybe Dorcas. The rest should hate him. The rest do hate him. He wishes the adults would get here quicker to discuss strategy, instead of waiting around and letting them play this sick game of pretending not to acknowledge the situation in front of them. 

“Yeah?” Dorcas asks.

“Come in here. Bring Regulus if you have to. Play the next round with me.”

Dorcas nods, taking a few steps forward. She pauses, looks back at Regulus. “Coming?”

“Fuck no,” he says, and then turns and walks out of the kitchen and back down the hall towards his room. His throat still burns from the lake, raw and sore. He doesn’t think he’ll ever sleep enough. He falls onto the bed, distantly wondering if anyone else finds it ironic he’s sleeping on Fleamont’s bed. 

Oh well. 

The next time he wakes it’s to Remus knocking on his door, waiting in the threshold with crossed arms. “Snape’s back,” he says. 

“Dumbledore? Effie?” Regulus pushes himself up. 

“No. They’re otherwise detained, temporarily. You know the adults and their secret meetings.”

“Wonderful.” Regulus slips out of bed and the two of them set off down the hall towards the living room. 

Snape is standing in the middle, arms crossed. Dorcas has plopped herself in an armchair, watching him carefully. James sits on the couch with Lily and Marlene, still refusing to meet Regulus’s eyes. Sirius is on the other couch, gesturing as he talks.

“-and they’re just okay with that?” He’s saying when Remus and Regulus enter. 

Snape turns to look at him, letting out a breath. He holds out the newspaper he had tucked under his arm, expression twisted. “You’re dead,” he says in lieu of a greeting. 

Regulus hesitates, taking the paper from him carefully and opening it. His photo, a portrait his parents had done of him a year or two ago, is splashed across the page.

Regulus Black.

Dead at eighteen.

Body unrecovered. 

Regulus hums lightly, throat constricting. There's an urge, guilty and persistent, to write to his mother and reassure her of his safety. Make sure she knows she doesn’t have to grieve both her children. He stays rooted to his spot instead, reading over the brief article a second time before slowly handing it back to Snape.

“Have you been back?” He rasps, clearing his throat.

Snape nods. “Yeah. They still don't suspect me. I’ve played this safely, unlike you.”

“Well.” Regulus reaches out to tap the paper. “This could be a good thing, couldn’t it?”

“I don’t see how,” Sirius says from the couch. “I doubt they actually think you’re dead. Or Voldemort doesn’t anyway. He must know about the most recent horcrux.”

“Oh he knows,” Regulus mutters, rubbing his eyes. “He felt it.”

“He did? How do you know?”

Regulus just shrugs. He just does. “He’ll be angry. Really angry. I bet he’s already scrambling to double check the hiding spots for the other two.”

“So there really is just four?” Lily asks, and Regulus flicks his gaze to her. Someone’s caught her up, he realizes.

“Yeah. Just four.”

“Lucky for us,” Snape gripes. “I hate those things.”

“I think we all hate those things, Severus.” Lily intones.

Snape clears his throat. “Do we have any leads?”

“Zero,” Regulus sighs. “Though- well- but I’d need to ask someone about it. I’m not sure.”

“Not sure what?” Marlene leans forward. “Do you know something?”

“Not really.” Regulus shifts. “The Dark Lord sends his followers on missions a lot. To gather things for him. Just last summer I went wand shopping with my cousin for him.”

"That’s what you were doing?” Sirius says, shocked. Regulus bites his lip, nods. “Well? What wand was it? Why did it matter?”

“I don’t know, actually. I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t go into the shop with her.”

“What? Why not?”

Regulus chances a look at James, who stares right on back, eyes hard. Regulus swallows. Looks down. Remus sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“What-” Marlene starts. Dorcas quiets her with a gentle hand on her knee. 

“So. Anyway. That could be something. Though, I doubt he’d make a wand a horcrux. Seems impractical.” Regulus says. “Although- before that- a long time ago, Bella and I went to Borgin and Burkes. To see about a diary.”

“A diary?” Dorcas sits forward. “That could be something.”

Regulus shrugs. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but…”

“And you didn’t mention this until now?” Sirius asks. Regulus glares at him.

“I was busy. A lot has happened since then.”

“What do we do? How do we follow up on this?”

“I need to talk to Cissa.”

“Absolutely not,” James says, speaking for the first time. 

Regulus gives him a pleading look. “She protected me. She protected you. She’s got to have some sympathy for the cause.”

“Is she a Death Eater?”

“Yes.”

“Does she have the mark?”

“Yes.”

“Well then.”

“That never seemed to bother you much before,” Regulus snaps, frustrated. James’s eyes flare with something indistinguishable. Sirius sucks in a breath. 

“She’s killing people.” James says eventually, breaking eye contact and looking down. 

“We could stop that. We could stop all of them. With Narcissa’s help. Look, I’m not asking you to trust her. I don’t even trust her. But she can help.”

“I-”

“Prongs,” Remus interrupts. “We literally have no other leads.”

“We could ask Dumbledore, or Moody.”

“No,” Regulus hisses, taking a step forward. “I won’t work with Dumbledore more than the bare minimum. He’ll corrupt all of this. And Moody-” He locks eyes with Dorcas, who nods in understanding. There’s a fire in her eyes that Regulus knows all too well. “No Moody.” 

“Dumbledore would never let you meet with her anyway,” Marlene shrugs. “Not unless it was controlled and monitored and it was ensured nothing could happen to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Regulus says icily. “I hardly think my safety is that much of a concern. He would be worried about not being there, though. He’d want the information first hand.”

“Still,” She insists. “He would never allow it.”

“Then we don’t tell him,” Snape shrugs. “Easy enough.”

“I…” Marlene trails off, as if she hadn’t considered that. 

Regulus isn’t used to this. Not used to collaboration. This is supposed to be his endeavor- his and maybe Snape’s. None of these other people are necessary. He doesn't need them. It’s bad enough Dumbledore told basically the entire wizarding population about the horcruxes; he doesn’t want anyone else joining the hunt. 

“He’ll find out.” Marlene finishes after a moment. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t , necessarily, but…”

“It’s alright,” Regulus says. “I don’t need any of your help. I can handle this fine on my own.”

Snape coughs next to him and Regulus rolls his eyes.

“Last time you tried to handle it on your own you ended up drowning in a lake,” Sirius points out unhelpfully. 

Regulus glares. “Yes, after I successfully destroyed half of the Dark Lord’s horcruxes. Obviously something about my strategy is working.”

“And obviously something else isn’t,” Sirius continues. “Maybe that’s us. You need more people backing you up.”

Regulus sighs and chews his cheek. He knows what point Sirius is trying to make. It’s obvious he’s been dumped into some sort of candy land where everything is about friendship and rainbows and working together. He’s not going to win on the solitary track. “Look,” he says finally. “I’m going to talk to Narcissa. I don’t care. If you people want to hear what I find out, that’s fine. Whatever. If you don’t, that’s just as well, but someone needs to do something. So. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Regulus,” James cuts in, and the something about his voice tugs on Regulus mind, sharp and insistent. “That isn’t a good idea. They think you’re dead. That’s helpful. Maybe we should keep it that way.” 

Regulus stares at him. James holds his eyes, not angry for once, just calm. Coaxing. Regulus nods slowly. “That’s true,” he says after a long moment.

“Seriously?” Snape hisses, looking at him. “That’s all it takes?”

“It could be good,” Regulus says, tearing his gaze away from James. “To pretend I’m dead. We can find leads on our own, can’t we?”

“We have none.”

“Borgin and Burkes. We have that.” Lily offers from the couch. Regulus turns his focus to her.

“That’s also true,” he says. 

She nods. “If you haven’t gone back, they might have more information. Or better yet, they’ll have the real thing.”

“Let’s go, then. Maybe at least they can tell us why Bella wanted the book in the first place.” Regulus says, rubbing his left shoulder. The faint scars under his fingers ache. He still hasn’t been able to kick the habit. 

“What, now?” Sirius asks, astounded. “And who’s we?”

“Yes now. I don't think Dumbledore will exactly blend in down in Knockturn Alley. And he definitely won’t let me out voluntarily.”

“And we is Regulus, me, and…” Lily looks around. “Remus.” 

Remus starts from where he’s been wiping a mug stain off the coffee table. “What? Oh. Yes. Right.”

Regulus blinks at Lily, surprised. “You want to come?”

She nods. “Yeah. And Remus never goes out, so no chance he’ll be recognized.”

“Er. That’s… mean. And true, I suppose.” Remus runs a hand through his hair, glancing between the two of them. “Okay. I’m in.”

“I’m coming too,” Snape says from next to Regulus. Everyone looks at him. He chances a nervous glance at Regulus. “I’ve been there for everything else, haven’t I?”

Regulus finds himself looking to Lily. Her eyes glint but she nods, pressing her lips together. “I guess it’s only fair,” She says. 

“Okay.” Regulus says. “I’m fine with this.”

“Woah,” Sirius interrupts. “I’m not. Why just you four?”

“Any more and it would be suspicious.” Regulus says. “And you were the one who said I needed help.”

Sirius exchanges a look with Remus, who gives him a gentle smile. “It’s fine,” he mouths. Sirius relaxes, hesitantly, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fine.”

Lily looks up at James and the others as she rises. “We’ll just be a bit, okay?”

“Be careful,” Dorcas says, catching her wrist and squeezing.

“It’s just a shop.”

Dorcas nods, dropping her hand. “Okay.”

Lily nods, looking back to Regulus and flashing him a determined smile. “Well? Should we get this over with?”

He gestures to the floo. “After you.” 

And with that, she steps into the flames.

---

 

Evan is with Barty when he gets the news.

“Take a look at this,” Dolohov says gruffly, holding out a paper. There’s a sick sort of grin on his face that Evan wants gone. 

Barty takes it cautiously, opening it and freezing instantly.

“What is it?” Evan whispers, moving behind him to see over his shoulder. 

And then he freezes too.

Fuck. 

No. 

“Is this real?” Barty asks, voice void of emotion. 

“Yep,” Dolohov says, cracking his knuckles. “The Black’s are distraught, of course. Word on the street is he tried to escape and got caught.”

“Interesting.” Barty’s eyes flick up from the paper and he turns away. He walks through Rabastians main foyer and out into the street, down the road into a park and onto a bench. Evan follows. When does he not?

“Barty,” he breathes. 

Barty shakes his head, chin tucked to his chest. His shoulders are trembling. Evan can’t tell if he’s crying or just… shaking. 

“Barty,” he tries again. He’s stopped trying to reach for him. 

“What?” Barty spits, looking up with broken eyes. “What? What do you want from me? He made his choice, fucking obviously. That’s on him.”

“Reg isn’t here,” Evan whispers.

Barty ignores him. He’s turning in on himself, Evan can see it, fracturing and splintering as his already cracked mind splits into pieces. His voice breaks. “He… he deserved this, if he ever thought he could get away.”

“He isn’t here,” Evan says again, louder. 

“I know. Stop- stop saying that. Shut up. I know. Of course he’s not here.” The last word tears down the middle, splintering apart at their feet. 

“No, he’s not here.” Evan waves a hand at his head, gesturing vaguely. Sometimes he tries to explain to Barty where he goes when he releases the stone, but the other boy always just ignores him. Sore subject, or something. “I think- I mean, I think I would know. I don’t know. I can’t be sure. But I don’t think he’s here.”

Barty’s eyes flick to his, heartbroken and tired, yet hopeful. Desperate. “He’s not there?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe he’s somewhere else. But… I don't know. It doesn’t feel right. Maybe you should release me, so I can check better.” 

“No.”

“Okay.” Evan stopped pushing that agenda a long time ago. 

“He’s not- He’s not with you?”

“No.” Evan sits on the bench next to him, staring up at the trees. He hopes that wherever Regulus is, he’s happy. Maybe he finally got out. The thought brings a smile to his face. 

Barty notices. “What the fuck are you smiling about? He’s- I mean.”

“He may still be gone,” Evan says, because he doesn’t want to bring Barty false hope. “But he’s not here.”

“Shit.” Barty bends forward, pressing his forehead to his knees. “Shit. That bastard. What happened, then?”

“I know as much as you do.”

“He must’ve left,” Barty mutters. “Bitch.” 

“It’s a good thing.”

“No it’s not. He abandoned me.”

You could follow him, Evan wants to say, but doesn’t. “He didn’t. He was probably just protecting himself.”

“If- at least if he was with you, I could bring him here too.”

The words settle like an icy block in the pit of Evan’s stomach, curdling his insides. The smile slips off his face. “No. That. No.”

“Why couldn’t I?”

“You could.”

“And he’d stay with us. It might keep him out of danger, honestly. He’s never had any sense of self-preservation.” There are still tears glittering on Barty’s bottom lashes. He wipes them away quickly. "It's not a bad idea," he says, so softly Evan almost misses it. Almost. 

Evan shakes his head. “That’s no way to live, Barty.”

“You don’t complain.”

Evan bites his tongue and tips his head back, staring at the sky. “No, I don’t.”

“You really think he’s alive?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe.”

“Should- should I tell the Dark Lord?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Shockingly, Barty doesn’t press the point. “Do you think he’ll come back? Will- will we see him again?”

Evan nods after a moment. “Probably.” His body aches. 

Barty stays quiet for a moment, just watching him. There’s a frustrated glint in his eye. “Reg is missing and that’s all you can say? You never talk anymore, you know.”

Evan blinks, looking over at him. “Yes I do.”

“Only when I ask you a question.”

Evan shrugs. Looks away again.

“Evan.”

“What?”

“Why- what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He looks down. “Nothing possibly could be.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so pissy today.”

“We just found out our best friend might be dead. Sorry if I’m not all smiles and sunshine.”

“Why does it feel like you’re mad at me, then?”

“I’m not.” It's true. He thinks. Probably. He’s just… tired. 

“I’m.. I’m glad you’re here,” Barty offers, like it takes a monumental effort. Evan looks at him, just stares, memorizing every inch of his face. As if he hasn’t already. 

He loves him.

He knows he does.

If there’s one thing Evan’s ever been sure of, it’s his love for Barty. 

“Yeah,” he says eventually, defeated. “I know.”

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Barty hisses. 

“Like what?”

“Like you’re tired of the sight of me. You know- I’m the one keeping you alive.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re just keeping me here.” 

“Is there somewhere you’d rather be?”

Evan lets out a long breath, staring at him. His chest aches. “I don’t know,” he says finally, and it's closer to the truth than he’s ever given him. 

Barty’s face crumbles, falls, eyes blooming with fear and pain. Evan instantly wishes he could take it back. He doesn’t. “This- whatever you’re doing- It’s like I'm watching you rot, Barty.”

“So?” Barty chokes, looking up at him with those hollow eyes. “Won't you rot with me?”

Evan smiles, sad and aching. Above them, the trees sway. There's only one answer. “Always.” 

They don’t talk anymore after that. The leaves rustle with a breeze that crinkles the newspaper in Barty’s hand, and they sit in silence. 

Evan pretends to enjoy it.

 

---

 

“Okay.” Lily says upon Remus, Snape, and Regulus appearing in the fireplace. “I’m realizing I’ve never been here before.” 

Remus brushes ash off his shirt, looking around. “Well. First time for everything.”

They move out of the entry building, closing the door behind them. The alley’s as dark as always, shadows clinging to every corner. Regulus pulls a face. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Remus hisses to Lily, who grimaces.

“Not particularly,” She mutters. “I was hoping the Slytherin’s would.”

“It’s this way,” Snape calls, pushing ahead. Remus huffs next to her and Lily is inclined to agree with the sentiment. She hates having Snape here. Hates having to look at him and not see an enemy.

Everyone tells her he’s on their side. They seem certain.

But they didn’t see the look in his eye when he called her a mudblood and spat at her feet. 

Regulus follows him and after a moment Remus and Lily trail after him. Luckily, they do seem to know exactly where they’re going, leading them down winding twists and turns that seem to spiral in on themselves. Witches and wizards, haggard and bent over, leer at them from doorways. Some reach out to touch Remus, who shies away and tucks himself behind Lily. She has no idea how Regulus and Snape seem so confident. They fit right in here. No one reaches out to either of them. 

It’s because Lily is so hyper aware of her surroundings that she sees her first. “Regulus,” she hisses, panicked, and grabs his arm. “ Wait .”

Regulus gives her a questioning look that morphs into shock when he follows her pointed finger. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” He mumbles, then quickly ushers the rest of them into a doorway and out of sight.

“What?” Snape asks, ducking out.

Lily yanks him back in. “Look. Narcissa.”

Remus lets out a huff of disbelieving laughter. “Seriously? She’s here? Regulus, did you know?”

“No,” Regulus says honestly. He looks just as surprised as they do. “I- okay. Well. If anything, it’s God’s will at this point.” 

“What?”

“I’m going to talk to her.”

Remus blinks. “I thought we decided against that.”

“Yeah, and then she showed up alone twenty feet away from us. Look- at Borgin and Burkes- they’ll be reading the papers. They’d know me. I was going to use some glamour or something, but if I stay here and talk to Narcissa, and you go instead, then that all just works out. Best of both worlds.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea.” Lily tears his eyes away from Narcissa to focus back on Regulus. “I mean. The others won’t be happy.”

Regulus stares at her and then just shrugs. With no further preamble, he steps off the stoop and into the street, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking off towards his cousin.

“Bastard,” Lily curses under her breath. Snape may be on their side, but Regulus is still a wild card. He doesn't seem to want to be a part of the Order; it’s obvious he has no respect for Dumbledore. That’s alright, she supposes. Few of them do. 

Sometimes she catches Regulus staring at her with such a strange expression that she has to look away. It’s not anger, or hatred, not necessarily, just… interest. Confusion. Hurt. 

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t know why.

“He does this,” Snape says. “Oh well. We’ll catch up with him later. Let's go.”

“Since when do we take orders from you?” Remus hisses, following him off the stoop and back up the alleyway.

“Since I’m the one who knows his way around these parts. You’d be lost in a second without me.”

“That might be preferable,” Lily mutters. 

Snape’s glare intensifies. “That… you need me.”

“Do we? We were doing just fine before you decided you were a traitor.”

“I’m literally helping you right now.”

“Probably only because Regulus blackmailed you or something.”

Snape huffs. “I’ll have you know I was on your side long before Black ever was.”

And, wow. That’s rich. “It didn’t show,” Lily snaps, furious. “I thought you hated mudbloods, huh? What happened to that?”

Snape keeps walking, not looking at her. “I… don’t. I didn’t. Mean that.”

“Sure felt like you did. Why’d you say it, then?”

Snape frowns, eyebrows pinching. They turn a corner. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re absolutely right.” 

“Everyone in my house…”

“Ah, and that’s why you couldn’t even look at me when we were alone.”

Snape goes silent, eyes locked straight ahead. Lily doesn't think he’s glanced back once. She mutters something about cowardice and falls back into step next to Remus, who bumps her shoulder reassuringly. “We’re not done with this.” She tells Snape. 

“We’re here.” Snape says, stopping. He turns to look at them. “Okay. Just. Be normal. Look a little less terrified.” 

“You’re shit at this,” Remus says, glancing at the imposing store front. 

“Yet you’re the one they’ll be wondering about. Come on.” 

They push through the door, ignoring the weird little jingle that plays when they enter. Lily looks around, already intimidated. Snape doesn’t bother with any of the merchandise on the shelves, going straight for the counter. A hunched old man paces back and forth, rubbing at different spots on the wood with a practically see-through rag. He looks up at Snape and immediately glowers. “What?”

Snape clears his throat and lifts his sleeve, showing the man his arm. “I’m here on business.” 

Lily flinches next to Remus, who sucks in a breath. The old man just peers down at the mark and then back up at Snape. “Well?”

“We need a book. A diary.”

“Who’s?”

“You know who’s.”

“Him?”

“Yes.” Snape leans against the counter, crossing his arms. He looks so at home here, so natural, that Lily begins to wonder if this is all some elaborate trap. 

“Who are they?” The man nods at Remus and Lily. Snape doesn’t even look at them.

“New recruits.” he drawls. “How much longer are you going to stall? I know you know what I’m talking about.” 

Remus and Lily exchange a glance. Right. They’re supposed to be doing something. Remus nods towards the rest of the store and she sets her jaw. They set off down different aisles, examining the shelves for anything vaguely book shaped. Lily gets slightly held up by an eyeball in a jar that seems to track her wherever she goes, but once she manages to step out of range, she moves on to the next aisle. She meets up with Remus in the middle. He ducks his head to whisper. “Anything?”

She bites her lip. “No. Nothing that we need, anyway. Definitely some illegal shit. But. I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Remus breathes, looking up at Snape, still arguing with the old man behind the counter.

“I don’t know. I’m just hoping he isn’t selling us all out right now.”

"I doubt… I mean, I don’t doubt, that’s absolutely something he’d do, but it wouldn't be very smart.”

Lily hums distantly, eyes fixed on Snape. “I wonder…”

“What?”

“I wonder why he’s here. I wonder why he chose to come to this side. It’s ten times more dangerous than laying low in Voldemort’s ranks.” 

“Yeah.” Remus says, finding himself asking the same question. “I have no idea.”

“After all the shit he said. Did he really not mean any of it?”

“He has the mark.”

Lily nods like he’s proving her point. “Yeah- he has the mark. And now he’s here? I just. I don’t know.” There was a time she would’ve jumped to Severus’s defense. He’s since burnt that bridge. 

“How…” Remus pauses briefly. “How do you feel about him being back?”

A multitude of complicated emotions flit through her at that. “It doesn’t matter,” she settles on finally. “It doesn’t matter. He’s here. He’s helping. Supposedly.”

“It does matter, though.” Remus looks down at her. “He hurt you. You’re allowed to have feelings about that.”

“Not right now I’m not.” She murmurs. Not in a war. Not when people are dying. 

“I’ll hate him forever, if that helps.” Remus offers. “For you.”

She smiles. She loves Remus. “Thank you. That’s… necessary.”

“What is?”

“You hating him.”

“Why?”

She stares at Snape, throat closing up. “Because I can’t quite seem to.”

“Ah.” Remus nods, and they both look back up at the counter. Snape seems to be done, turning around and ducking his head towards the exit, indicating for them to follow. They do, both desperate to escape, and they reconvene in the alley outside. “

What happened?” Lily asks, taking a deep breath of non-sulfuris air. Snape shakes his head.

“Not here.” He leads them a little ways down the road and pauses again, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. well.”

“Yes?”

“It’s definitely important, horcrux or not. People have been asking about it, all Death Eaters. The Dark Lord has been monitoring the shop for ages to make sure it doesn’t come through. It did, once, a while ago, but it was immediately sold.”

“To who?”

Snape sighs, wiping a hand over his face. “That’s the best part. Lucius Malfoy.”

“Shit,” Lily curses, kicking a pebble and sending it skittering across the cobblestones.

“That’s. Wow. Okay.” Remus groans, ducking his head. “So Malfoy has it.”

“Most likely. Yes. As far as that idiot knows.” 

“Well. We don’t even know if it is a horcrux. And we don't have any way to destroy it if we did get it.”

“Yes we do,” Snape says.

“What? How?”

Snape shrugs. “That’s Black’s secret to tell, not mine.”

“Speaking of,” Lily interrupts. “Where is Regulus?”

“We should find him,” Snape sighs, “and then get the fuck out of here.”

For once, Lily finds herself agreeing.

 

---

 

Regulus keeps his hands in his pockets, pausing right behind his cousin. His heart beats wildly in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. This is, potentially, a very bad idea.

Oh well. 

“Hey Cissa,” He says softly. He watches her stiffen and pause, freezing in the middle of the alley.

She turns to him slowly, eyes glinting in the afternoon light. For a moment, he thinks she’s about to go for her wand. Her pupils expand, taking in the sight of him. Then she simply crosses her arms, expressionless. “Regulus. You’re alive.”

“Apparently so.”

“You have a lot of nerve.”

“I know.” He looks down.

“I should kill you.”

“Yes.”

“Or take you back to the Dark Lord.”

“Probably.”

“At the very least, detain you.”

He nods. “You won't, though, will you?”

She looks him over. “I should.”

“You know about the horcruxes. You saw it in his head.”

She tips her chin up. “I saw a lot of things in his head.”

He flinches, but just barely. “The Dark Lord will kill you if he finds out that you know. That’s his closest guarded secret.”

“How’d you discover it, then?”

Regulus shrugs. “You didn’t see?”

“I got a little preoccupied. You take up a lot of space in his head, you know.”

Regulus grits his teeth. “Yes. I know.”

“Besides. I saw what I needed. Your oblivious charm- it was good. It took a lot of work to undo.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She stares at him for a long moment. “Why contact me?” She asks. “Why risk everything? You got away. Your family is in shambles.” 

“I need information.”

“What makes you think I’ll give it?”

“I know Death Eaters. I know people close to the Dark Lord that would sell you out in an instant. You already hid everything once- I doubt you’d manage it again if he goes looking a second time.”

She narrows her eyes. Her hand drifts to her stomach, hovering over it protectively. He feels his eyes widen. “Really, Cissa?”

Her hand drops instantly, curling into a fist, obviously frustrated at the slip up. “It’s nothing.”

“A baby isn’t nothing.” 

“A baby…” she sighs. “It’s a bad time.”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“I didn’t even want the marriage, what makes you think I want his child?”

“You don’t?”

She shakes her head. “No. I do. I’ll love the baby. With everything I have. I already do.”

“So, that’s two people to protect, then. You really need to stay on the Dark Lord’s good side.”

She shrugs. “You have an agenda. Get to it.”

“A long time ago Bella took me to Borgin and Burkes to see about a diary. Why?”

“You think it’s one of… those?”

“Doesn’t matter. What do you know?”

She shrugs. “I know it isn’t there.”

“Do you know where, then?”

Something fleeting flashes across her face. “I can't tell you.”

“Sure you can.”

“No. For my baby- for myself- I can’t.”

So it’s somewhere hard to get to, then. Someplace that would put Narcissa in danger if discovered. Fascinating.

He nods slowly. “Then it’s important, yes?” 

Her eyes lock on his. “The Dark Lord cares very deeply about it,” She says, and that's as much of a confirmation as Regulus is going to get. He decides to change the subject. 

“How did- I mean- what are they saying about me?”

She shrugs. “That you died. That you tried to escape and got caught.”

“That’s it?”

“The Dark Lord is upset.” She raises her brows. “Furious. Angrier than I’ve ever seen him, though he won't say why. I know it has to do with you. He really trusted you, you know.”

“I know.”

“If he finds you…” 

“I know.”

“Stay out of his way, if you know what’s good for you. He’ll kill you the second he sees you.”

Regulus frowns lightly. “No he won’t.”

She raises a brow. “How do you know?”

“I just… do. He needs me alive. He told me as much.”

She pulls a face. “Well. You certainly took him by surprise. Between you and me, I think he knows you discovered his secret. I don’t know how.”

Regulus nods. It’s no surprise. The second Snape destroyed the locket, he must’ve felt it. “Okay.”

“Does he know you’re alive?”

“Yes. I mean. Probably.”

She purses her lips. “Alright.” She turns to look over her shoulder, smirking lightly. “You better go. The Gryffindors look lost.” 

Regulus turns to see Remus and Lily awkwardly staring at him. Snape must be just out of sight- which, really, is unnecessary, since Narcissa already knows about the nature of his allegiance, but anyway. He curses under his breath and looks back at her. “Okay. Fine. Just. Don’t say anything.”

A brief smile flits across her lips. “I think we’ve passed that.”

He nods, once, looking her over. “Okay.” He says again, and then turns and joins the others. 

He pushes past them, walking until she’s fully out of sight behind them. Finally he stops, waiting for them to catch up. 

Snape steps out from wherever he was hiding and stands at Regulus’s side. “Did you learn anything?” He asks.

“That depends on what you know.”

“The book is important.”

“Yeah. I gathered that much.”

“Lucius Malfoy has it.”

“Oh.” Regulus pauses. “That makes sense.”

“Does Narcissa-”

“They definitely have it. And it’s almost certainly a horcrux, given the precautions taken by the Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort,” Lily interrupts. “You could just call him Voldemort.”

Regulus swallows. “Sorry. Force of habit. Voldemort obviously needs it protected.” 

Snape nods. “Okay, so. What do we do now?”

Remus smirks. “Now, we tell Dumbledore.”

---

 

Regulus and the others come back. He looks at James. James looks away.

They call Dumbledore. They explain. Dumbledore lays out a plan, one that doesn’t include them. Sirius gets mad about this- Remus calms him down. Regulus seems oddly accepting. Lily and Snape go home. Everyone disbands. 

James finds himself in the garden, pacing around in small circles. His broom lies on the grass in the middle, waiting. He doesn’t touch it. Above him, the stars glisten. 

He’s been focusing on one memory at a time, trying to remember it in its entirety before moving on to the next. The trouble with that is one memory often leads to another and then another, and all too soon he’s spiraling down a rabbit hole of things he knows and things he doesn’t, lost and confused. 

Right now, he’s thinking about the time he fell off his broom in that match against Slytherin. He remembers his bed in the hospital wing- remembers waking up- and yes. There’s Regulus, right in the middle of it, as he always seems to be. He’d frowned, brows pinching as he took James's hand. He’d told him he loved him.
The memory tastes rotten.

“James?”

James shudders, pressing at the side of his head. That voice. It’s infectious.

“James? Are you okay?”

James blinks, staring at the grass for a moment before lifting his head. Regulus stands at the entrance to the garden, hesitating. His eyes are wide and entirely focused on James, guilty as sin. 

Good. 

“Oh,” James says, clearing his throat. “I thought you were in my head.”

Regulus steps out of the house and onto the grass, shutting the door behind him. He shivers in the gentle night chill, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think Dumbledore has sent people into Malfoy Manor already. They’re probably there right now.” 

“Why did you just let them go? I’d have thought you would want to be the one to get it.”

Regulus shrugs. “I’m tired. And. And I don’t care who does it as long as it’s done. This isn’t just my fight. Besides, it doesn’t make sense to send in an untrained teenager.”

James nods distantly. That makes sense, he supposes. He looks back up at the stars. “There were constellations on our ceiling.”

Regulus sucks in a breath. “Yes.”

James frowns. “How did it go, talking Narcissa? Did she say anything important?”

“Not really. Not about you.”

“Well. She already knows everything there is to know about me. I doubt she needs to follow up.”

Regulus’s lashes flutter. “I wouldn’t tell her anything if she did. You know that, right?”

“I know nothing.”

“I’d keep you safe.”

James snorts. That's just priceless. “Safe.”

“James- “

“No, it’s fine. You should go back inside. Get some sleep.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well. I don't even want to look at you, so.”

“Thats…” Regulus takes a half step towards him. “James, please.”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“I love you.”

James’s chest bursts into flame. “You don’t. You don’t.”

Regulus shivers. He looks young and scared, small against the night. “I did. I do. You remember that much, don’t you?”

James shakes his head, trying to sort out his mind. “I don’t remember anything.” 

“I did what I had to do,” Regulus whispers.

“That’s a weak excuse.”

“It’s the truth. You saw what happened when they found you. That would’ve happened a lot sooner if I didn’t stop you from coming back.”

James shakes his head, going back to his circles. It’s easier to move than keep staring at Regulus’s face.

Regulus’s voice breaks. “I was protecting you. You were going to get hurt.”

James stops. 

Turns. 

Looks at him. 

“You think you protected me?” He stalks closer. “Protected? You think that didn’t destroy me? Do you have any idea how much it hurt to lose you, Reg? I couldn’t sort out anything- I couldn’t- I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think- I’d get glimpses, sometimes, of some other life, and each one would tear me apart. You’ve never had to miss something you thought you never had. You have no idea how much pure, clear, honest longing hurts. Especially when you can’t give it a name.” 

Regulus stares at him, mouth slightly open, and James breaks.

“I didn’t forget you, Regulus. I never forgot. I just… lost you. I still missed you. I still needed you. You just weren’t there anymore. It’s like you tore a hole in my chest and ran away with whatever you took. And I was looking for it. I looked everywhere. But I just couldn’t seem to find whatever it was that I was missing.”

Regulus’s eyes glisten, the light of the moon reflecting off the tears clinging to his lashes. “James,” he whispers. 

“So, no. You can’t say my name. And you can’t say you loved me. And you can’t look at me, and you can’t expect me to look back. Because- because every time I look at you I remember everything we had and then I remember everything you threw away.”

“Je t’aime,” Regulus says again, a tear shaking free and falling quickly. James almost wants to laugh. Did he listen to nothing he just said?

“You don’t. If you did, you wouldn't have been able to do that to me.”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” Regulus looks down, then back up. “I- you were the best thing that ever happened to me, James. You were the only good part of my life for so long. Having you was like some sort of salvation. You were keeping me alive.” He sucks in a breath. “You think I wanted to let that go? To give that all up? It killed me, really killed me, to do that. To watch your face wipe clean. To pass you in the hall and not even get a single look. You were forced to let go and I was forced to hold on.” His eyes glint in the moonlight. “That's the difference, really. I had to live with everything you forgot.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I loved you enough to let you go. Doing that- forcing you to forget everything- is possibly the most selfless thing I’ve ever done. I had to make you go.” Regulus laughs, bitter and short. “If I had it my way, you’d stay by my side forever.”

That hits James like a punch to the stomach, knocking all the air out of him instantly. He forces himself to breathe, pulling in clean night air. “What do you want from me?” he asks eventually, when his heart starts beating again. 

Regulus sighs, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t.” He glances back at the house. “For now, I want you to look at me. I want you to meet my eyes. I want to be able to ask you a question without feeling like I’m killing you.”

“It still hurts,” James whispers.

Regulus nods. “I know. It’s going to hurt for a long time, I think. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

“But one day you will, maybe.”

James knows he's right. Soon probably, if he's being honest. He doesn't know how long he can hold out against those eyes. He just shakes his head. “Go inside, Regulus.” he says tiredly. “Go to sleep.”

For a minute, Regulus doesn’t move, and some long-buried part of James’s chest swells with hope. Maybe he’ll stay. Maybe he’ll fight, just a little longer. Instead, Regulus nods, eyes flicking down to his feet. He turns slowly, walking back to the house and only looking back once before shutting the door behind him. 

James takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. He stares after him for a long moment, wondering if he should go after him. What would he even do? Hit him? Kiss him? He shakes his head, chuckling bitterly.

After a second, he goes back to pacing. 

 

---

 

Dumbledore gathers them in the living room the next day. James chooses to sit by Remus, who happens to be the only person he’s talking to at the moment. He tucks his knees up under him, watching as Dumbledore paces.

“Well?” Sirius asks, sounding impatient. “What happened?”

Dumbledore sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We found the book.” 

“Really?” Remus asks, sounding as shocked as James feels.

“Really.”

“That’s so… easy.” James sucks in a breath, heart jumping. 

Then- “It wasn’t. We lost two members.” Dumbledore looks down. “They were caught as they tried to escape. Voldemort knows we have his diary.”

“Oh,” Effie says. James agrees. There’s a dull panic in him somewhere, probably due to the fact that Voldemort knows about their plan and is actively looking for them, but also maybe because they’re losing people left and right. How long before it’s someone he knows? Someone he loves?

“You have the book?” Regulus asks, sharp. 

“Yes.” 

“We need to destroy it. Now.”

“Wait a minute,” Dumbledore says calmly. “We don’t even know if it’s a horcrux.”

“Let us see it.” Regulus demands. 

Dumbledore stares at him for a long moment, finally waving his hand and summoning the book. It looks inconspicuous, plain and slightly wrinkled. He sets it down on the table. “No one touch it,” He instructs. “It’s very likely cursed.”

“That’s a horcrux.” Regulus says, staring at the book.

“We can’t be certain.”

James watches as Regulus shakes his head, eyes dull and unfocused. His lips move but no sound comes out. “That’s- that’s what the other’s felt like.” 

“Others?”

“Other horcruxes. Can’t you feel it?” Regulus lifts his gaze, looking around the room. Everyone shakes their heads. He frowns, sitting back on the couch. 

“I trust him,” Snape says. “Let's get rid of it, quickly.”

“Just because Reg has a sense?” Sirius asks.

Snape shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Sirius looks back at the book. “I guess he’s right. Even if it isn’t one- it’s better not to take any chances, right?”

“How?” Remus asks.

“Same way we did the others.” Snape exits and returns a minute later with a brown satchel. He looks through it, pulling out a small green vial. 

“What is that?” James asks, but he thinks he knows.

No one answers him. Snape looks over at Regulus. “Do you want to do it?”

“Perhaps I should be the one to-” Dumbledore starts.

“No.” Regulus interrupts. “It’s fine. I can manage.”

He stands up and takes the vial from Snape, looking down at it with a complicated expression. He glances up one last time. “Is everyone ready?”

They all lean forward, curious. Remus nods next to James. “Get on with it.”

Regulus sends him a glare and then carefully pours the contents of the vial over the book's cover. Instantly there’s a hissing sound as the venom burns through the cover, bubbling and black. Steam rises as the book crumbles and melts, ugly as anything. James feels his throat constrict as he watches. 

Is that it? 

Is that all it takes?

And then Regulus’s knees crumple out from under him and he lands on the floor, eyes closed, fingers twitching. Unconscious. 

James's stomach drops with him.

Multiple people jump forward at once. Snape just groans as Effie presses a hand against Regulus’s forehead. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he mutters. 

“He’s alright,” Effie says. “Just asleep.” 

“What the fuck happened?” Sirius hisses, tapping Regulus's cheek quickly. 

James can’t move, staring at the boy on the carpet. For the second time in less than a week Regulus has passed out on his living room floor. His limbs twitch and he longs to go to him, but he can’t move. 

Dumbledore looks from the destroyed book on the table back to Regulus on the ground. There’s a twinkle in his eye, soft and dangerous.

“Hm.” He says. “How curious.”

 

---

 

So they found another one.

And they destroyed it.

It tears through him, the pain of his soul being purged and splintered. He feels his knees hit the ground, feels someone rush to his side. Bella, probably. He can’t bring himself to care, fury bubbling in the pit of his stomach. How did they find it? 

It’s the boy. It has to be. 

He found the locket. He found the ring. He found the diary.

The diadem is next, then. 

Shit.

He lists to the side, consciousness dragging him down.

He thought he could trust him. He needed to trust him. 

Oh well. He’ll destroy him just the same. 

 

---

 

Regulus dreams fitfully, less a story and more flashes of a narrative playing out behind his eyelids. 

He’s on the floor again, a snake, angry and injured.

He’s missing part of his tail, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The cold tile of the corridor slides wet beneath him, stained with red and some sort of water leaking from the sink down the hall. 

He knows these corridors. He’s walked them before. He passes a door, shimmering and large, set into the wall. It’s gone in the next second, but that’s okay. It’s meant to stay hidden. He just needed to make sure it was still safe.

The crown, the jewels, they'll glitter on. 

This school, this place, this is where he’ll end it. End it all. Kill every last one of the non-believers; slaughter them in the halls where they were raised. 

Soon. Soon. 

But first- rest. 

 

---

 

Regulus wakes to the sun streaming in through his window. It splashes across his face, lighting the darkness behind his eyelids. He blinks, rubbing at his face and rolling over in bed.

It takes him a moment to remember what happened. They destroyed the diary. It worked. 

The Dark Lord is furious. 

Regulus's dream comes back even slower, chunks and segments at a time. Hogwarts. A snake. A door. 

He knows where the last horcrux is. 

He feels it in his gut, an undeniable truth and understanding. That door, in his dream- Regulus knows it from somewhere. He just isn't entirely sure where.

He sits up slowly, pulling his blanket back and swinging his legs off the bed. He has no idea why he passed out, but he’s smart enough to connect the dots. It has something to do with the weird energy that infests him whenever he gets near a horcrux- the same energy that has been haunting him since the night Voldemort killed Harold. 

A theory, an idea, itches at the back of his mind. He shoves it down.

He finds Effie in the living room. She’s curled up on a chair with a book, flipping the pages slowly. He watches her for a moment, paying particular attention to her neck where her glamour flickers in and out of place. The green scales shimmer under the morning sun.

“Effie,” he says eventually. She looks up, surprised, and closes her book. 

“Regulus! How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He looks down. “I collapsed.”

She nods. “I noticed. Do you know why?”

He shakes his head. 

“Snape says this happens often.”

“Not… often. Sometimes. 

“But you’re alright now?”

“Mhm.”

“Dumbledore had to go back to school and Snape went home.”

“Lucky for us,” Sirius says, entering with a bowl of cereal. “I was getting sick of both of them. Care to fill me in on what just happened?”

"I... don't know." 

"Is that the truth or just the easiest?"

"Honest truth."

"Hm." Sirius nods, assessing him. "Well, at least we know it was real."

Regulus smiles, but it slips off his face when he remembers. “Where’s James?”

Sirius’s grin falters. “I have no bloody idea. Why?”

“I need him.”

Sirius gives him a look. “I’m sure you do. What for?”

“I know where the last horcrux is.”

Effie drags in a small surprised breath. Sirius just sighs, rubbing his forehead. “...Fine.”

 

---

 

It takes Regulus about five minutes to explain his dream. He answers a few questions, ignores a few more, and then sighs. “We have to search Hogwarts.”

“Are we really just going off a dream?” Remus asks.

Regulus shrugs. “I have a very strong feeling. Doesn’t hurt to check. Got any other ideas?”

“Not particularly.”

“Where in school?" Sirius gestures vaguely. "It’s a large castle.”

Regulus shifts. “I’m not… completely sure. The dream didn’t cover that bit.”

“Do you think Dumbledore would know?” Effie asks.

“If he knew he would’ve found it already,” James points out. Regulus nods in agreement. 

“How will we find it, then?” Sirius sits forward, running a hand through his long hair. “We don’t even know what we’re looking for. And we don’t exactly have anyone to ask.”

Regulus swallows. “Well.”

Sirius pauses, staring at him. "'Well?'  You know someone? You have an idea?”

“Not an idea. Just. Something.”

“Spit it out.”

Regulus shakes his head, twisting his hands nervously in his lap. It’s an insane plan. The very thought makes his skin crawl. But.

But they’re out of options. 

And really- he does miss her. 

“James and I will go to Hogwarts,” he says eventually, when he’s gathered his courage. “And we’ll find the horcrux.” 

“Why just James?” Remus asks.

Regulus can feel James’s eyes on him, wide with understanding. “Because,” James starts slowly, “Because I’m the only one who knows.”

“Knows what?” Sirius looks between them, obviously confused and a little frustrated. “What are you going to do? What’s your plan?”

“I think,” Regulus says, bending over and putting his head in his hands, “we have to go visit an old friend.”

Notes:

Hi guys!! So. well. This is a little late. And the reason for that is I simply did not want to write it. My bad! I would like sit down and open my computer and then just immediately do anything else. I hate plot lol I am a romance and angst person. I don't do logistics, just on principle.
Anyways! Lily! love her. I also have been enjoying just making other unnamed characters do my dirty work- like whichever poor souls went to get the diary. If you think about it, Dumbledore would not send teenagers to do that when they have an entire organization of trained adults for things exactly like this.
If im being honest, I don't love horcrux hunting fics, so I have zero idea why/how this ended up the way it is. I hope you guys are enjoying it anyway. I promise we're almost done.
Cool anyway I'll see you next time sorry about the wait! next chapter is... special

Chapter 65: The Diadem

James isn’t entirely sure how he’s got himself in this situation. 

He’s standing in front of the gates to the grounds at Hogwarts, trying desperately not to look at the boy next to him. Regulus stares straight ahead, jaw clenched. A scar runs up over his neck and disappears behind his ear. James follows its path with his eyes, heart clenching. He hates the scars. Hates how they haven’t settled into Regulus’s skin yet, raised and red with obvious pain. He hates the look in Regulus’s eyes when they’re brought up, hates the way he shuts down any mention of what happened.

God. This is such a bad idea. 

James had protested at first, of course. He gave in, embarrassingly enough, after a particularly pleading look from Regulus. He had a point, after all. James is the only one who knows about Saskia and the chamber. It’s obvious that Regulus doesn't want to reveal her secret to more people than necessary. 

Still, though. James thinks this has to be some sort of personalized hell. 

Regulus has been shifting on his feet for the past two minutes, staring at the gate. James clears his throat, looking down at him. “We don’t necessarily have to do this.”

“Yes we do.”

“We can send someone else in. You don’t have to see her.”

Regulus’s lashes flutter on his cheeks and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes I do.”

“Is it- I mean- is it safe? Will she hurt you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t. I don’t even know how I’ll get her to talk to me.”

James distantly tries to remember the insides of the chamber, the giant snake, Godric and Salazar, James and Regulus. “She… liked you.”

Regulus flinches next to him. “And then I…”

James winces, tipping his head in admission. “It may be tricky.”

Neither of them speak for another long moment. A cold wind blows through the grass around them. Finally, Regulus steps forward and pushes the gate open. “Okay. Let’s get this over and done with.”

James nods silently, following him through. A low mist hangs over the grounds, matching the cloudy Scotland skies above them. The walk is as long as he remembers, passing the groundskeepers hut and the whomping willow. He looks at it for a long moment, humming softly.

“What?” Regulus asks.

“Nothing. I’m just… glad we’re done with that. I never want to go back there.”

“Mm.” Regulus presses his lips together. “How’s Lupin?”

“Fine. It’s easier, now, with wolfsbane.”

“Snape’s not doing that, so how…?”

“No. We’re paying an outside potioner.” James stiffens, a thought occurring to him. He’s been wondering for a while. “Um.” He refuses to look at Regulus, starting to climb the stairs up the hill. “You and Snape.”

“Yes?”

He keeps his eyes on the next step in front of him, adamantly ignoring the flush he can feel creeping up his cheeks. “You aren’t… that’s not…” 

“That’s not what?”

And James can practically hear the smirk in Regulus’s voice behind him. He glares ahead. “You two aren’t… a thing, right? Like…” Ugh, even the thought disgusts him. “Like together?”

Regulus snorts, then laughs, chuckling behind him. “No. No. Snape- no. Ew.”

Embarrassingly, a huge flood of relief washes its way through James. Thank fucking god. “Oh. Okay.” Is all he can say. 

“Why?” Regulus asks, coming up beside him. “You jealous?”

James cuts him a sharp look, walking faster. “Yes.”

Regulus’s smile slips, something more slightly more serious taking its place. There’s a hint of longing in his gaze that warms James’s stomach. “You could… you know. You could do something about that.”

James smirks, missing the cruelty that came from the fresh betrayal. It’s dulled a bit over the past few days. Regulus deserves to be punished, he thinks, for even putting James in this situation. “No.”

Regulus lets out a breath. He looks frustrated. Good. “James.”

“Shh. We’re here.” James nods at the doors to the castle. “Go on.” 

Regulus turns to glare at him. “If you would just talk to me-”

“Reg. Go. We have to focus on the mission.”

Regulus stares at him for another long minute and then finally pushes the door open, slipping inside. “Don’t worry. Snape is as straight as they come.” Regulus murmurs as he pushes in. “And,” he glances over his shoulder. “Not my type.”

James takes a deep breath, looks up at the sky one last time, and follows.

 

---

 

“Do you think Rabastian would care if you told him he needs to repaint his ceiling?” Evan asks, staring at the yellowing cracks that spit the peeling paint above him.

Barty glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “No.”

“Probably not. Maybe you should do that for him.”

Barty raises a brow. “Me. Paint.”

“Well, you’re not exactly paying him rent.”

“I’m helpful in other ways.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than lie there and criticize Rabastian’s ceiling?”

Evan laughs at that. Barty doesn’t. “No,” Evan offers helpfully. 

Barty just goes back to looking out the window. There are dark spots under his eyes, sinking deep into his pale skin. He barely slept at all last night, lying on his side and staring at the wall. He’d kept the stone tight in his grip, pressed against his chest. He wasn’t even looking at Evan. Just… lying there.

Rain hits the windowpane, streaking down in tiny rivers. Evan can see Barty’s reflection in the glass. He has the stone in a makeshift sort of necklace he fashioned so he doesn’t always have to hold it, laying under his shirt, flat against his skin. His empty hands busy themselves with his wand, twirling and fiddling with it as he looks out the window. 

Evan wants to reach out, take it from him, put it somewhere he can’t get. Instead, he pushes himself upright, sitting against the wall. “Barty,” He says softly. It’s nothing new. Barty gets like this. Even back at school, there would be days Barty would stay completely silent, staring at something none of the others could ever seem to see. The key was to just keep talking. 

Barty’s eyes stay fixed straight ahead. “What’s it like?” He asks, voice void of emotion. 

“What’s what like?”

“That place. Where you go when I drop the stone.”

Evan doesn't move, suddenly aware of every muscle in his body. He stares at the wand in Barty’s hand. He takes a deep breath, dragging his gaze back up to his face. “Lonely,” He says eventually. 

“Lonely,” Barty repeats softly. He meets Evan's gaze. “But you’re there.”

“No,” Evan says, scooching forward on the bed. He reaches out, resting a hand over Barty’s. Neither of them can feel it, but it doesn’t matter. “I’m right here.”

Barty’s eyes lock on their hands. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls his hand up, dragging it straight through Evan’s. It passes through it like nothing, like air, and he flexes his fingers on the other side. Evan’s breath catches in his throat. Barty nods, as if he’s answered some unspoken question. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“Barty-” Evan starts, suddenly terrified. 

“It’s okay,” Barty says, cutting him off. “I’m fine.” He sets his wand down on the side table, and Evan lets out a breath. Barty offers him a sad smile. “Has anyone told you you’re an open book?”

“You’re a fucking menace sometimes.” Evan mutters. 

Barty shakes his head, looking back out the window.

Evan watches him. “It’s cold,” he says after a moment. “Where I go. And dark. And you’re not there.”

“Would you rather me be?”

“No. No. It’s depressing. And miserable. And, like I said, lonely.”

Barty’s eyes flick to his. “Then why are you so bloody desperate to go back?”

Evan opens his mouth. Closes it. Barty just nods, falling back onto his pillow, still staring out the window. 

“If I had to choose,” Evan whispers. “I would choose you. Everytime.”

Barty doesn’t move. “So you want this?” He mumbles. “You want me?”

“You have no idea how much.” Evan breathes. “I want to touch you, I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want to feel you. But-” he sucks in a phantom breath. “But Barty, more than that, more than any of that, I want to be near you. And I can be, right here.”

“And you’re happy with me? I’m enough for you?” Barty turns his head on his pillow, eyes glittering, all that dull hopelessness giving way to the smallest glint of something else.

Evan smiles, gentle and soft. “Yeah,” he lies. “Of course you are.”

---

 

Regulus misses these halls. They’re so achingly familiar, comforting and exactly how he left them. Part of him wishes he could’ve gone back this year. Somewhere normal and regulated. He’d be with Barty and Evan, at least. 

But no, he wouldn’t.

Because Regulus has no idea where Barty is.

And Evan-

“Regulus,” James whispers, cutting through his thoughts. “Everyone’s getting out of class soon. We need to hurry.”

Regulus nods, casting a tempus charm and then dismissing it just as quickly. They make their way silently down the halls and up the stairs, persistently ignoring the comments from portraits on the walls. “This is where I found you covered in blood and naked,” Regulus hums to James, crossing the second floor corridor.

James sighs behind him. “That- yeah.”

Regulus waits for him to catch up, trying desperately to distract himself from the roiling pit of snakes his stomach has turned into. He can’t think about what’s waiting for him at the end of this hall. He can’t. So he thinks about James instead.

They’ve found themselves in a weird sort of limbo- Regulus practically begging James to look at him and James determinedly holding him at arm’s reach. Since their fight in the garden, Regulus keeps catching James staring at him when he thinks he isn’t looking. He’s softer, not mean but still not open like he used to be. Distrustful. Blank. Either way, though, it’s better than before.

“That was… a bad night.” James says softly.

Regulus nods, eyes fixed on the door at the end of the hall. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, speeding up the closer they get. There’s suddenly no air in his lungs, mouth completely dry. “I can imagine,” he forces himself to say, ignoring the way his voice trembles.

James notices, because of course he does, glancing at him sideways. “Reg-”

“Why.” Regulus says quickly. “Why- um. Why were you in your underwear?”

“It’s a long story.” James stops at the end of the hall, eyes fixed on his face. “Hey.”

Regulus crosses his arms, staring at his feet. The door next to him feels cold, large, imposing, like it will crush him if he takes even one more step.

He doesn’t know if he can do this. 

Actually, yes, he does know. He definitely can’t.

“This was a mistake,” he whispers, taking a step back. “Shit. Fuck. I shouldn’t have come.”

James grabs his shoulder, steadying him. “Reg. Hey. Breathe. Everything’s fine. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Regulus presses a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “She might. She should,” he whispers. “I deserve it. She should kill me. Should drown me in my blood for what I did.” 

“You had to do it. Tell her that. Explain. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’ll be right there, I won’t let her-”

“No,” Regulus says suddenly. He looks up. “No. You need to stay here. I have to do this alone.”

“That sounds like a horrible idea.”

“She doesn’t know you at all. I’m hoping to get by on whatever measly emotional connection we used to have, even if I already tore it to shreds. But you- you don’t have that. She’d attack instantly. I can’t worry about keeping you alive while I’m trying to convince her to help us.”

James lets out an angry huff, brows pinching behind his glasses. He looks so concerned that Regulus actually feels a little better for a second, because at least that much has stayed the same. “How about this,” Regulus says. “You go looking for the last horcrux. I’ll go talk to Saskia. I’ll find you the second I’m done.”

“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” James points out. “Or even which floor it’s on. Hogwarts is huge. Even we haven’t discovered all its secrets. The map hardly covers half of all the hidden passages and rooms.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. You can sit inside the bathroom and wait for me to be done. That way we can look together.”

“I-”

“That’s my compromise, James. It’s that or we turn around and go home.”

“You’re the one who asked for me specifically,” James complains. 

“Yeah, because you’re the only one who knows about the Basilisk. It makes everything a lot easier.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing all this just because you had some sort of dream,” James mutters, crossing his arms. 

Regulus glares at him. “Do you want to go home?”

“No. It’s- whatever. Worth a shot, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Regulus looks back at the door to Myrtle’s bathroom. “So you’ll let me go?”

“Fine. Yes.”

Regulus nods. James stares at him, as if waiting for him to move. Regulus swallows. 

“Okay?” James nods towards the door. “So?”

“I…” 

“Regulus.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

“Regulus.”

“Please.” Regulus begs, though he’s not sure what for.

“Think about the things you have been able to do.” James takes a step closer. “Think about Harold, cursing me, those muggles, hurting the Basilisk.”
Regulus flinches back, dropping his gaze. James continues. “Were all of those truly easier than this? Then making amends? Is saying sorry really harder than committing the offense?”

“It’s not saying sorry. It’s begging her not to kill me and then demanding information.”

“My point is- you can do this. If you can do all that then you can do this.”

“I had to do those things. I had no choice.”

“And you think you do now? Reg- this could be our shot at winning the war. If you have to do anything, it’s this.”

Regulus nods, taking a few deep breaths. He’s right. This should be the easy part. “Alright,” he whispers, then takes a step towards the door. He looks back at James. “I’ll find you, okay?”

James nods, eyes fixed on his face. “Okay, love,” he says softly. “Stay safe.”

Regulus has to repress a shudder at the words. It’s a little evil of him, he thinks. He’ll take it anyway. He turns towards the door, sucking in a breath, and pushes it open. It’s the same as he left it, of course.

He looks around for Myrtle. As always, she doesn’t show. That’s okay. He’d like to do this without any snide comments. He finds the sink, the last one, and kneels in front of it.

He hasn’t spoken in Parseltongue in a long time. The words crackle and tear in his throat, almost like broken glass as they finally push themselves through his lips. He’s surprised there isn’t blood on his mouth when he’s finished.

The sink slides back and up, revealing the stone chute. It’s more intimidating this time than the first, Regulus realizes. Back then, he didn’t know what was waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. Now he does. 

He slides into it anyway, taking a final breath of clean air before letting go and disappearing into the darkness.

His feet crunch on the ground when he lands, thousands of tiny bones snapping beneath his shoes. He stands shakily, looking around in the darkness. There’s not much to see- nothing new, anyway. He makes his way down the tunnel towards the final door to the chamber, heart pounding a steady beat in his chest. He can feel every muscle in his shoulders, tight and ready to run. Fuck.

This is such a bad idea. 

He takes a moment at the door, pressing his hand against the cool marble. It’s smooth under his fingers, familiar and ancient. He wonders what he’ll do if Saskia’s just waiting behind the door, eyes fixed on his. Accept his fate, probably. It'd be karma at that point. 

He slides a hand into this pocket, pulling out his wand. His heart stutters. It’s fine. It’s fine . 

He gives the words and the stone snakes pull back and retreat with a grating sound. After a moment, the door swings open. 

The smell hits him first. Familiar and overwhelming, tears spring unbidden to his eyes the second he takes a breath. It smells like mildew and wet in the best way, cold and crisp and damp. Despite the alarm bells ringing in his head, his body relaxes into the scent, welcoming it back.

Then the sight before him registers, and his chest tightens again. The Basilisk is nowhere to be found, probably curled up inside her tunnel. The statue of Salazar, large and imposing, seems to glare at Regulus from across the chamber. The smooth marble floors and granite walls reflect whatever dim light seeps in. Long black shadows cling to the corners, dark with a greenish sort of gloom. He knows this place. Knows it like the back of his hand. 

He crosses the floor quickly, shoes echoing on the floor. He breaks into a run when he remembers how good Saskia’s sense of smell is, imagining her appearing from Slytherin's mouth and dropping him to the floor in an instant. 

He reaches the statue in the next second, quickly scaling the large stone folds of his beard. He comes to a rest on the stop of his head, the motions practiced and precise. He’s done this a hundred times before. Carefully selecting a stone, he creeps forward and raises his wand in his other hand. There’s no time for remorse, not right now. No time to pause. No time to think. He throws the stone at the entrance carefully, listening to the sound echo around the chamber. It’s hardly necessary anymore. Saskia once told him she always hears him long before he throws the stone. He kept doing it anyway, turning it into their little signal that he was ready for her to come out. 

He hopes, more than anything, it’ll mean she’ll know it’s him here now, not some other faceless intruder. 

So he sits back on the statue, and waits. 

And waits. 

And finally there’s a slithering sound, scales sliding across stone. His stomach drops, breath lodging in his chest. The second he hears it all the thoughts he’s been blocking out rush back in, unbidden, swarming his head and clogging his throat. 

Oh.

There she is.

After all this time. 

She’s right there. 

When the first inch of green appears below him he casts the curse, aiming his wand straight down. He watches it hit the top of her head, watches her eyes seal shut. He knows what this means. She knew it was him and came anyway, accepting her fate. He expects her to fight, thrash and whip around like she used to.

She doesn’t.

Somehow that’s worse. 

She continues out of the tunnel, looking exactly the same as Regulus left her. She makes her way to the middle of the chamber, spiraling around herself and dropping her head to the stone. He thinks he’s going to be sick. 

Saskia, he says then, voice breaking, unable to contain the guilt and sorrow he’s been drowning in for the past year. 

Her tail twitches, flicking against the floor. Once, twice, three times. Her tongue flicks in and out of her mouth, quick as anything. 

Little Prince.  

And, oh.

He’s missed her. 

 

---

 

James watches Regulus go with a sad sort of hopefulness, even as his legs itch to chase after him. He wants to go with him, wants to keep him safe from the beast inside, but Regulus made a good point. He knows he can’t. Instead he steps inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He sinks to the floor, stretches his legs out in front of him, lets his head rest on the wall behind him, and waits.

There’s a small sound from the stalls and he glances over, raising a brow. “Myrtle?” 

She raises just the top of her head over the edge of the toilet door, eyes wide behind her glasses. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispers.

“No,” James agrees.

“You left last year.”

“I did.”

“Should I tell Dumbledore?”

James shrugs. “Doubt he’d care, honestly. Is he here now?”

“Yes, obviously. He’s in his office. The Headmaster never leaves.”

“Well- okay, sure.”

“Why are you back? Why is he back too?”

“Who’s he? Regulus?”

“Yes.”

“He has something he needs to do.”

Myrtle passes through the stall, coming to stop right in front of James. “I know his secret,” She sing-songs. “He visits the monster, doesn’t he?”

James blinks at her. “Well-”

“The monster that killed me.”

“Yes.”

Myrtle nods, lips pressed together in a pout. “Why do you like him?” 

“Regulus?”

“Yes. The boy with the sad eyes.”

“I don’t,” James says instinctively. “I’m mad at him right now.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because he needed somebody who understands. And I can’t have him getting hurt.”

“He already has, though, hasn’t he? He’s covered in scars.” 

“I didn’t mean like that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“More hurt, I suppose.”

“So you do care.”

“I guess I do. I just don’t- I just don’t like him.”

“It’s difficult to care about someone you don’t like,” Myrtle says. “I would know. No one likes me, and no one cares about me.” 

“...I’m sure that’s not true,” James offers hesitantly. He glances around, slightly uncomfortable. “Look, Myrtle, don’t you have a toilet to haunt?”

“I do that all the time. I’d much rather talk to you, anyway.” She giggles and drifts a little closer, running a hand over one of her pigtails. 

“Right. Er. Well, I should really be going.”

“But you said you were going to wait for him, didn’t you? Are you just going to leave?”

James lets out a breath, sinking back down the wall. “I did, didn’t I,” he mutters. 

Myrtle grins. “You did. Now, talk to me some more.” She settles into a sort of cross legged-mid-air seat, cocking her head and resting her chin in her hands. 

James tips his head back into the wall behind him. “...What do you want to talk about?”

“Lots of things. Let's start with how you get your hair like… that.”

James just sighs. 

 

---

 

The sound of her voice washes over Regulus like a wave, soothing and familiar, and so so close. It sounds a little different, the edges of her words less clear, but maybe Regulus just doesn’t remember it as well as he thought he did.

Saskia, he says again, heart clenching, leaning forward on his knees and trying to keep himself together. 

For a long, perfect second, nothing happens. Everything goes still. Only the sound of Regulus's heart and a far away drip of water echo around the chamber. It's a moment suspended- like the peak of a wave as it rises. 

And then Saskia lunges, and the wave crashes into the sand.

She moves quicker than Regulus has ever seen her, rising from the ground and darting towards him. He barely has time to scrabble back on the statue's head, pressing himself against the wall behind him as she darts forward. Her mouth opens as she lunges straight for him, a ugly sort of hiss clawing its way up her throat. 

Regulus can’t make a sound, mouth opening in a silent gasp as he braces. He doesn’t even lift his wand- just curls around himself and braces every muscle. 

And… waits. 

He cracks his eyes open, aware of nothing but the slight pant of his breath and the coolness of the stone he’s pressed against. He turns his head slowly, swallowing around the fear and adrenaline rising in his throat. 

Saskia is there, right there, an inch away from his face, risen up on her impressively long body. Her jaw is open wide, ready to strike. 

And suddenly Regulus understands why her voice sounds different now. 

Where her fangs used to protrude from the inside of her mouth are thick and ugly scars, still not fully healed. They’re red and raised, gruesome to look at. The scar on her cheek is nothing compared to the ones on her lips.

Regulus represses a gag at the sight. 

He stares at her gums, stares at the tears in her flesh that he’s responsible for, and wonders why he ever thought she’d forgive him. Why he ever thought he’d forgive himself. 

Saskia ducks forward and Regulus flinches back, pressing harder against the wall and shuddering. Don’t , he gasps, voice splintering and ripping down the middle. Please. Please, Saskia. 

She snaps her mouth shut, flicks her tongue, and stays exactly where she is. He wonders what she’s thinking, whether the look on her face is sadness or confusion. And then-

How dare you. 

Her voice, low in a way he’s never heard it before, sinks something heavy deep into his stomach. Regulus stills. What?

How dare you. How dare you show your face in this sacred place. 

And, oh. That look is pure fury. He didn’t recognize it because she’s never looked at him that way before.

I’d kill you in a second, she hisses. If I didn’t need you to reverse this curse.

That’s not true , he says shakily. 

Her tail flicks against the ground. 

You came when I called. Regulus continues. You could’ve killed me the second I stepped foot in this place. You waited until I was ready. She doesn’t move, nostrils flaring. He shifts on his spot. I came back, he says again weakly. Doesn’t that count for something?

No. Not like this. 

Saskia- 

Don’t. 

Then why are you still here? Regulus whispers, still shaking. Why am I still alive?

I’m deciding, she says slowly. 

Deciding what?

If I should kill you or wait to hear your excuse and then kill you after. I know I’ll enjoy both, but one might be a bit quicker. It might be worth it to stay blind. 

I had to do it, Regulus breathes. I had to. I had no choice. I’m so sorry.

Saskia lunges forward again with a sharp hiss, sending Regulus flinching back. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing quickly through his nose. Please, he gasps. 

The Basilisk hisses, low and angry, and backs up, tail thrashing against the floor. She slides across the chamber, turning and curling in on herself. It almost looks like she’s pacing, moving back and forth while she thinks. 

Just hear me out, Regulus begs. That’s all I ask. Then you can kill me, or hurt me, or do whatever you need to.

Why should I?

Because you’ll get answers. Because I came back. 

Saskia thrashes her head again, tail twitching. 

He holds out his hands in a placating gesture, even if she can’t see it. Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord. He sent me to Hogwarts with a mission. Find the beast in the chamber, take her fangs, don’t kill her. I thought I could do it. I mean. I did do it. But not because I could. I had to, Saskia.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.

I found you, and we talked, and I… He swallows, throat burning. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even think about it. I let it go on way too long, got way too attached, and then decided I needed a way out. I was going to run. Was going to leave. When- when…

Her head tips. When?

When my mother threatened my brother. If I didn’t hurt you, he’d die. Regulus watches the words sink in, watches as Saskia turns her face away, tongue running over her lips .  

So. So I had to do it. He finishes, taking a breath. It killed me, if that helps. Actually killed me. 

Somewhere far away, the drop of water maintains its steady beat. 

You cut me. She says, head still down.

Regulus stares at her. I... 

You ripped the fangs from my mouth. I woke up alone and bleeding. 

Oh god. Regulus is going to be sick. 

I didn’t know you did it. Not at first. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Nothing at all, really. All I could smell was blood and lavender.  

Regulus presses a hand over his mouth.

I finally shook off the rest of the potion and all I could think was you were just like the rest of them. You never said goodbye.

I did. Regulus crawls forward on the statue's head, suddenly frantic. I did. I said goodbye.

Oh, Saskia says, finally lifting her head to face the statue. If her eyes were open, she’d be staring straight at him. Her tone is laden with betrayal and malice, dripping from each world like rotten honey. I must’ve been asleep. 

He can’t breathe. 

You would’ve felt it otherwise, he murmurs. I didn’t want it to hurt.

Saskia hisses, low and long. You didn’t want it to hurt. 

It-

I almost starved, at least three times. It’s a lot harder killing rats when you have no teeth to chew them with. 

She was going to kill my brother, Regulus whispers. I couldn’t have let that happen.

So instead of finding a way out, you…

I didn’t have time. Regulus says. The Dark Lord didn’t need me yet. He would’ve killed Sirius the next day and then, probably, me. At that point I still didn’t matter. 

And now, what? You’re suddenly important? All that you did, all you ruined, was just a stepping stone to your success? To rise higher in his ranks?

Not by choice, Regulus says. Something- I don’t understand- I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. 

The Basilisk lets out a long low hiss. Tell me one more thing before I kill you, she says. 

Regulus shifts further back on the statue. He isn’t used to being afraid of her. What?

Why did you come back?

The answer comes easily. I’m going to kill him, Regulus says. And I need your help. 

Saskia pauses, the swish of her tail stilling for a moment. You…

I’ve been hunting the horcruxes. You know, those things you told me about? We got three of them already, but there’s one more. And you could help me find it. 

They’re real? He did it?

He did it four times. 

Saskia turns again, spiraling and coiling around the length of the chamber. And you thought I would help you. After what you did. 

I… hoped. Regulus admits. I don’t think we can do this without you. And I thought- well, your face, the way he left you-

Saskia cuts him off with a snarl. How dare you even-

I shouldn’t have gone there. But- but Saskia, you knew him. Better than I do. You might know something that can help us.

Why shouldn’t I support him?

He’s the one that made me do this to you. 

And yet you were the one with the knife. 

Regulus twists his hands in his lap. He’s trying to kill the people I love, he whispers. I can’t let him. 

Saskia doesn’t say anything for a moment. And why is that your burden?

I’m the only one who knows him the way I do. And- and I’m disposable. 

Why shouldn’t I kill you?

He takes a deep breath. I’ll probably die anyway, he says. Why not let me take him with me?

Saskia ducks her head down and to the side, silent.

Regulus sighs. Saskia- 

Why didn’t you tell me?

What?

You could’ve told me. 

Regulus’s chest caves in. No, you’d-

I’d have understood. I’d have helped, or tried to. You could’ve told me.

There wasn’t anything to be done, Regulus says after a moment. There was no way out. 

Except one, Saskia hisses. 

Regulus pauses, then nods. Except one.  

Neither of them speak. Regulus sits down on the statue, dangling his feet over the edge. It’s alright. If she wants to kill him there’s nothing he can do about it now. I took the mark, he says, even just to fill the silence. 

She shifts on the ground. Why?

He shrugs. For the same reason I do anything. I was afraid. I thought he would hurt me if I didn't. I was probably right. 

Do you regret it?

I regret so many things. 

Are you still at that house?

No. I’m at James’s. With Sirius. 

Saskia lets out a soft hiss. So why now? What’s changed?

Well, they think I’m dead. They have nothing to pursue. Also- I killed part of his soul. 

The horcrux. 

Yes. He stares at her for a long minute, the two of them sitting in silence. Are you still going to kill me?

Maybe. 

Can I do anything to change your mind?

Rip all your teeth out and give them to me. 

…No. 

Well then. 

Do you want to know why? Regulus asks.

I thought you already told me. 

Not why I did it. Why he wanted me to do it. 

The Basilisk stays silent, which Regulus takes as a yes. Did you know your venom destroys horcruxes?

She ducks her head. Regulus nods. They do. They’re one of the only things that can. He wanted the fangs, I think, to keep anyone else from getting to them. Which is ironic, really, because I would never have used your fangs to destroy his horcruxes if he didn’t give me this task in the first place. I would’ve never even switched sides, probably. 

You didn’t give him my fangs?

I did. Most of them, anyway, but I kept a few. They’ve been essential so far. You could be so helpful, if you just-

Saskia shakes her head, tail twitching on the stone floor. The only good argument I've heard from you today is that there's a world in which you could both die. 

Saskia, just talk to me. I- He swallows, throat constricting. I really cared about you, you know. I did. You were- well, you were the closest thing to a best friend I could find.  

She rears up again and despite his better intentions he scrambles back to his original position against the stone wall. Shut up, she hisses, the hot air of her breath hitting him in the face. Let me make myself perfectly clear, Little Prince. I don’t care about you. I hate you. I want to see you bleed, want to see you drop dead on this very floor. I don’t care if your brother was going to die. I don’t care about your sob story. You destroyed that card a long time ago, the second I woke up alone. 

Wait- he says, still pressed against the wall. 

The only reason you aren’t dead right now is because I’m still blind, and I need you to reverse it. Don’t try to appeal to me with anything other than logic. I can promise you that’s your best bet.  

Okay, Regulus says quickly. Okay. How about this. If I- or someone around me- kills the Dark Lord, if I manage to stay alive, then you can kill me. I promise. Or get someone else to do it. Just delay your revenge a little while longer, and it’ll be ten times sweeter. 

Why would you make that promise so easily?

I’m alright not surviving this if it means he goes too. Regulus looks down. It’s gonna happen sooner or later, right? 

There’s something you aren’t telling me, Saskia hisses. 

Does it matter?

I have a counter offer, she says, retreating a bit. Let me out. 

What?

Let me out. Open the chamber like my master intended his heir to do. Tom Riddle did it. Why can’t you?

She’s never asked him this before. Never even brought it up. He wonders why. I won’t do that, he says stiltedly. 

Why not? You’re willing to die. Why not fulfill your destiny while you do it?

Why didn’t you ask me this before?

Would you have said yes?

…No.

Well then.

I’m not going to do that. Regulus says, finding himself a little proud of the resolve in his voice. I know what you’ll do.

You know nothing. Go on. Let me out. 

No. Not now, Saskia. Not when you’re like this. 

Then die. 

You’ll stay blind.

I can live with that. 

Regulus sighs in frustration. You have another option, though, which I think I’m being pretty generous with.

It’s tempting, she admits. Both of you dead. I don’t mind the idea. 

He nods. All you have to do is wait- just a little bit. 

I’ve done my waiting. 

Then you can do just a little more. 

She stares at him for a long time, still far too close for Regulus’s comfort. I’m not doing this for any other reason besides the fact that I want you both dead. She says eventually. Something in Regulus’s chest loosens. 

But you’ll help? He asks, crawling forward.

I’ll tell you what you want to know, if I know it. 

He lets out a sharp breath, smiling. Thank you, Saskia. Thank you. 

I hate you. She hisses, voice cold and certain. I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.

He nods, ignoring the way those words pierce through his gut. I know. I would too. 

She nods, retreating a bit further. What do you need?

The Dark Lord hid a Horcrux in the castle somewhere. I have no idea where. I think- I mean, I’m not sure, but he said something about a crown.

He said something?

Well, no. It was a dream. I had a dream. Look, I don’t know how to explain this. Did he ever mention an important object in this school? And where he’d hide it?

She seems to think for a moment, looking away. A crown. He mentioned a diadem. Would it have been that?

Regulus’s breath catches. Yes. Yes, that would be it. What did he say?

Rowena’s diadem. He had a special fascination with it. Would always talk about finally finding it. 

Rowena Ravenclaw?

She gives him a look like he might be stupid and he nods, conceding the point. Did he tell you if he ever found it?

No. 

Did he tell you where he’d put it if he did? Could it be down here?

It’s not.

Regulus sighs, racking his brain. Did he ever go anywhere else in the school? Somewhere special he might’ve mentioned?

Your dream didn’t cover this bit?

No. 

I don’t know. He talked about many things. He loved this place, though, just hated what it was turning into. 

Any room in specific? Regulus prys.

The dorms, I assume. Saskia hisses. 

Besides that, though. Anything out of the ordinary? 

He was always talking about how they were always just what he needed.

Regulus desperately tries to keep up. The dorms were exactly what he needed?

I didn’t understand him either. 

Are you sure he was talking about the dorms?

What do you mean?

What else did he say?

He said no one else had discovered the place, or that no one talked about it if they had. She pauses. I suppose the dorms don’t make sense in that context. I just assumed. 

Regulus nods. He long ago figured out how to navigate Saskia’s vague and distant comments. A conversation with her was like interpreting and solving countless riddles all at the same time. I think I know what place he was talking about. Okay. Yeah, actually, that makes sense. I don’t know why I needed you to tell me. But it’s a diadem?

Yes. He was obsessed with all the founders- but Rowena’s diadem in particular stood out to him. 

Why didn’t you tell me this before? 

You never asked. 

Unhelpful, Regulus mutters. 

What else do you need to know?

Nothing. I think- I think that’s it. 

She huffs. So you’re done?

Regulus stares at her for a long time. He doesn’t want to be. He wants to stay. He wants to keep talking to her. He’s missed her. I guess so , he says instead.

Can you go?

Yes . Regulus slides off the statue’s head, climbing down. I'm sorry. 

There’s nothing you can say, Saskia hisses. I’ve had time to think it over. And there’s nothing you can say. 

Yeah. I know. I know. Regulus looks down. I’m sorry anyway. She would’ve killed my brother.

And yet she hasn’t. 

Regulus shakes his head. There’s no reason to now, and besides, the Potter’s have wards. Also- they all think I’m dead. There’s no one left to punish.  

She twists her head. You really are with the Potters?

Yes.

You aren’t with him anymore? 

Tom? No. Why?

Saskia tilts her head. That doesn’t make sense. 

What doesn’t make sense?

She flicks her tongue, once, twice. When you came in, I didn’t recognize you. That’s why I waited to come out till I heard your stone. I was so surprised, I thought… 

You didn’t recognize me?

I thought it was him. I thought he came back.

Tom? Why? That doesn’t make any sense. 

You don’t know?  Saskia asks, sounding genuinely surprised. 

Regulus furrows his brow. Know what?

The Basilisk tips her head, tongue flickering. You smell exactly like him, Little Prince.

A cold fist closes over Regulus’s heart and squeezes, forcing his breath from him in a helpless gasp. Something itches in the back of his mind, the rot in his chest sending tendrils up his spine. What?

There isn’t a single part of you that smells like the boy I used to know. It’s all him now. That’s why I didn’t attack immediately- I had to make sure it was really you. Only your voice confirmed it. 

Oh. Regulus leans back, letting out a harsh breath. His mind spins, heartbeat picking up in his chest. Oh. Fuck. 

Why do you smell like him, Little Prince? Saskia asks. 

Because… Regulus trails off, staring at the ground as his thoughts churn sourly in his head. Even if he’s right, even if this means what he thinks it means, she doesn’t need to know. 

Either you’re lying to me and you don’t want to kill him, or something else happened. Something you’re not telling me. 

He gives her a strained smile she can’t see. Just a hypothesis, he murmurs. But I did leave. 

Sure , she says cooly. He crosses his arms, shivers from the cold that never seemed to bother him before. 

Thank you, he says. For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m sorry. 

I know you are, she says softly. I can still smell when you’re lying, Little Prince. 

Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth when I say I never wanted to do it. That I was trying to find a way out. That I had no choice. 

Go. She says, nodding towards the door. The next time I see you I’ll kill you.

He flinches back, taking a step and then another. He turns and gets to the door before pausing, looking back one last time. She’s waiting, completely still in the middle of the chamber. He raises his wand. I’m sorry, he whispers, and then reverses the curse. 

He doesn’t look back again after that. 

 

---

James knows Regulus is coming back up the tunnel when Myrtle’s face (somehow) goes even whiter and she ducks back into her toilet without another word. James’s shoulders slump with relief, letting out a small breath when Regulus pulls himself up and onto the floor. He forces himself to his feet, face hidden.

“I was just about to go after you,” James says, taking a few steps towards him. “You have no idea…” 

He trails off when Regulus lifts his head, revealing wet lashes and broken eyes. Something tugs in his chest and James reacts instinctively, opening his arms and letting Regulus stumble forward and fall into them. It’s fine, he tells himself as he cups the back of Regulus’s head and holds him tight. He can put aside his anger, just for a moment.

As Regulus wraps his arms around him, James remembers that night in Grimmauld Place. He’d just been taken hostage, lying in his uncomfortable cot, filled to the brim with hate and confusion. Then he’d heard Regulus crying above him and without thinking crawled into bed next to him, the need to comfort him instantly surpassing everything else- the taboo, the lack of memory, the blank space.   

This is like that, he thinks, squeezing Regulus a little tighter. He just needs to make sure he’s okay. After that, he can let the anger back in. 

“How’d it go?” He says, pulling him back a little bit. Regulus takes a shaky breath and as James watches he carefully tucks his emotions away, one hand still balled in James’s jumper. 

“She told me,” he says after a minute. “I know where the last Horcrux is.”

“Did she hurt you?”

Something passes across Regulus’s face but he shakes his head. “No.”

James summons his courage and steals himself, taking a step back from Regulus and putting some much needed space between them. He furiously ignores the hurt in Regulus’s eyes and crosses his arms, swallowing. “Where is it?”

Regulus rubs his face, obviously tired. The scars on his arms stretch with the movement. “The Horcrux?” 

“What else?”

“The Come and Go room, I think.”

“...Shit.” James sighs, ducking his chin to his chest. Fuck. He doesn't want to go back there. 

“I know.” Regulus mumbles, seemingly shrinking in on himself. He’s obviously still reeling from his time in the chamber- James resists the urge to pull him back in. He’ll ask him about it later. Or maybe he’ll make Remus do it.

“Let's get this over with, then.” James says, turning around and walking through the door. After a moment, he hears Regulus follow him. 

He catches up to him in the hall, the two of them lowering their heads and ducking around students. They get a few odd looks, some people calling out to James, who ignores them and keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead. 

They climb the stairs in silence, although James can feel Regulus’s eyes on him now and then. They pause in the middle of the hallway. James glances at the wall, pressing his lips together. “I used to come here,” he says after a moment. Regulus looks up sharply. James continues. “When I couldn’t remember anything. I would be walking, and just… end up here. With my hand on the doorknob. It’s like my body knew what to do even when my brain forgot.” 

“Did you ever go in?” Regulus asks softly. 

“Once.” James looks down. “With Remus.” 

“And?”

James shrugs. “It was exactly the same as we left it. Which means-”

“Some part of you wanted that,” Regulus whispers, deep grey eyes fixed on him. 

“Yeah. Pretty much. Even when I had no idea what I was looking at, I knew it was right.”

“Fuck,” Regulus curses, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. It's almost like James’s words are physically hurting him. Good. 

“Yeah, well.” James clears his throat and looks back at the wall. “How the fuck are we supposed to get to where he hid it?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus says, joining him. “Try just… visualizing a diadem, I guess. Or a place to hide it. Maybe the room will understand.” 

“It’s a diadem? The horcrux?”

“Yeah. Ravenclaw’s.”

“Oh.”

They fall silent again, staring at the wall. “Ready?” Regulus asks after a moment.

James nods. They both close their eyes, James doing his best to focus on… something. He doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for, but he’s trusting the magic surrounding the room to interpret his unorganized thoughts. 

He cracks open his eyes a few seconds later, pleasantly surprised to find a door in front of them. Regulus blinks next to him. “Oh,” he says softly.

James moves forwards, cracking open the door.

He knows what he’s going to find the second his hand touches the knob. He looks anyway, catching a glimpse of a large soft bed and bookshelves lining the walls of an achingly familiar room. He shuts the door in the next second, taking a quick step back. 

Shit.

“Well?” Regulus asks next to him.

Oh. He hadn’t seen. James refuses to look at him. “Not what we wanted,” James forces himself to say. “Just a toilet. I need to piss.” 

“Right, well, if you could try and focus on the task at hand-”

“Sorry I can’t control my body’s natural functions-”

“I’m just saying.”

James rolls his eyes, but takes a step back and tries to concentrate again. This time he really does try to envision a silver diadem, imagining it tucked away somewhere. When he opens his eyes again the door has changed color. He takes that as a good sign, elbowing Regulus and stepping forward. 

This time the door pulls open to reveal a different room, dark, long, and wide- stretching off into the distance. James steps inside, eyes wide, trying to take in the vast amounts of stuff piled up in every corner. Pathways have been carved around the piles, looping around and creating a maze.

“What is this place?” Regulus breathes, stepping up next to him. Even now, even here, his proximity sends something tingling down James’s spine.

“Somewhere people go to hide things, if I had to guess.” James looks around in awe, still trying to take in the depth of what’s in front of him. 

“Good for us, huh?” Regulus moves a bit further in, turning to face him. “Well? Do you wanna go one way and I’ll go the other?”

“Yeah,” James says, already moving. “Okay.”

“Yell out if you find something,” Regulus calls, and then disappears behind a stack. James sighs and begins the search. 

 

---

 

Remus stretches in bed, barely awake. There’s sun in the window, and a glance at the clock tells him it’s midday. He woke up for breakfast, learned about James and Regulus, and decided he needed another nap. 

His post-sleep peace is immediately disturbed when Sirius catapults himself from some mystery place, landing directly on top of Remus in bed. Remus lets out a loud huff, instinctually closing his arms around Sirius and rolling him over. “Bastard,” He mutters, still barely conscious. He buries his face in Sirius’s shoulder, closing his eyes again. 

Sirius’s hand lands naturally on his head, gently stroking his hair. He feels quite like a large dog. “Had to wake you. It’s time for lunch.”

“Mm.”

“You and I both know you’d get bitchy if you woke up and found out you missed food.”

“You could’ve saved some for me.”

“Oh, come off it. You were already awake.”

“Mph,” is all Remus has to say to that, snuggling deeper into Sirius’s warmth. “Are James and Regulus back yet?”

“No.” Sirius runs his fingers through Remus’s hair, continuing their path down and up his back. “But I’m not worried. They’re just going to Hogwarts. Nothing can happen to them there.”

“...True.”

“Want to get lunch?”

“No. Want to stay here.”

“Moony.”

“Just a little longer.”

“...Okay.” 

Remus keeps his eyes closed as Sirius plays with his hair, breathing in his scent and relaxing. “Okay.”

They sleep through lunch. 

 

---

 

James and Regulus spend at least twenty minutes picking through the tall piles of stuff. It’s all packed very densely, and nearly up to the ceiling in hight. Often one of them tugs on the wrong thing and there’s a loud crash as everything tumbles to the ground. James routinely has to stop himself from checking on Regulus when one such sound resounds from his side of the room. 

He sees a glint of gold and reaches past a stuffed cat and ratty book to grab it, pulling it free and jumping back just in case. He stares down at the object in his hands. No. …Maybe?

“Reg?” He calls, walking back towards the middle. “Could this be it?”

Regulus takes a while to resurface, meeting him halfway. James holds out the large golden crown, onset with jewels and metal details, shining in the dim light.

Regulus wrinkles his perfect nose. “No.”

“I’m starting to think I don’t know what a diadem looks like,” James says, tossing the crown on a nearby pile. 

“I’m starting to agree with you,” Regulus says. “It’ll be daintier. And silver, probably.”

“Noted.”

They spend another ten minutes looking, and then James calls out again. This time, Regulus’s eyes widen upon seeing the object in James’s hand. He takes a stilted step forward, and then another. “That… yeah. Yeah, I think.”

He reaches out carefully, taking the small silver diadem from James’s hands. A strange look crosses his face, gone in the next second. James watches him carefully. “Are you going to pass out?”

Regulus furrows his brow and looks up, confused. “...no?”

“Good. Cause last time…”

“Last time was a one time thing.”

“Not according to Snape.”

“Snape has never once known what he’s talking about.”

“Why’d that happen, by the way?” James tries to keep his voice casual, light, simply inquiring. 

Regulus looks away, jaw tightening. “I don’t know.”

It’s an obvious lie. “I think you do.”

“James.”

“Why’d you have that dream, huh? How’d you know this would be here?” Regulus says nothing and James continues. “Somethings up with you. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t see it.”

“James. Please.” Regulus takes a shuddering breath. “Not now.”

Everything in James wants to keep pressing but he lets it go, albeit very reluctantly. “So what now?”

Regulus takes another minute to stare at the diadem in his hands. “I just can’t believe it was so easy,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you but I’d love to destroy it,” James says. “Why don’t we get home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Regulus slips the diadem carefully into a bag at his hip, finally tearing his eyes away. He looks back up at James, clearing his throat. “Thank you. For coming with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did. I’m the only one that knows about the snake.”

“Basilisk,” Regulus corrects softly. 

“And besides. You’d never have gone through with it without me.”

“That’s… unfortunately true.” Regulus sighs. “I still don’t know if it was the right decision.”

“Sure it was. You got the crown-thing, didn’t you?”

“Only because you found it,” Regulus says, slowly raising his gaze to meet James’s. “Thank you.”

James flushes at the eye contact and the praise, not sure what to do with his hands all of the sudden. He settles for shoving them in his pockets. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

Regulus blinks, brows pinching slightly. “I…”

“Nevermind. It’s fine. Are you alright? Ready to go?” James turns in circles. “Where’s the bloody door gone,” he mutters under his breath.

“James, wait.” Regulus says, catching his arm. “Maybe- maybe we should talk.”

“We already tried that. Talking.”

“I don’t like any of this. It doesn’t feel right.”

Some part of James revels in the sight of Regulus- scary, cold, perfect Regulus- looking at him with wide eyes and a cracked open expression. He doesn’t show this side to anyone else. James knows that much. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I’d just forgive you and we’d go back to the way it was?”

“You were never supposed to have anything to forgive me for.” Regulus says. “You were never supposed to remember. “

“Yeah, well. Sometimes I’m not glad I did.” It's a lie. Regulus knows it too, judging by the way he tips his head to the side. 

“I’ve already told you why I did it,” Regulus whispers. “What more do you need from me?”

James shrugs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I want you to regret it,” He bites out eventually.

“I do. Or. Or I do now.” Regulus gives him a helpless look. “It would’ve worked, but you didn’t let me go so easily. I should’ve known. If I’d thought about it for more than two seconds… well, no. Not even. I didn’t think you’d still hold on to me after forgetting everything we had.”

James opens his mouth to retort but pauses, considering. Regulus has a point. It was James who cornered him about his fathers potions. It was James that couldn’t quite get him out of his head. It was James who found him at that concert, and later, on the beach. If James hadn’t continually sought Regulus out, Malfoy never would have had the chance to take him. 

“Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job,” Regulus mutters. 

James shakes his head. “I think I just loved you too much.” 

Regulus sucks in a breath, staring at him. “James.”

“I did, Reg. I really did. I would’ve come back to you, over and over again. Even when I couldn’t remember you, even when I was supposed to hate you, I just… missed you.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything, lips slightly parted. 

“All I do is miss you.” James finishes, voice barely a whisper. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus says. “I- I just wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t think you’d keep looking for me anyway.” 

James laughs a little, scrubbing his hands down over his face. “I guess- it just feels like loving each other and this war were two different entities, and then you made them one. By doing that you made our feelings into strategy.”

Regulus shakes his head. “It was never just love,” he says. “Never. Not from the beginning. You asked me to cure your father, who was poisoned by someone on my side. I betrayed the Dark Lord the second I agreed to help you. There was always politics, James. I’m just the only one who had to deal with them.”

"You could've talked to me."

"I did. I did talk to you. It didn't change anything."

"So you jumped straight to erasing my memories?"

"What other option did I have? You weren't going to go unless I wanted you to go. And you knew I didn't. There was no way I could've lied about that. But I had to do something."

James stares at his feet, trying to get his thoughts in order. "It hurt so bad, all the time."

"I know."

"Everyone thought I was mental. I thought I was mental." 

"I had to do it." 

“I could’ve gotten you out,” James whispers. “If you let me.”

“I couldn’t. I was already too greedy with just you.” 

“It's not greedy to want to survive.”

Regulus swallows. “I did survive.”

James reaches out, gently tracing the scar that runs across his jaw and down his chin. “Barely,” He breathes. 

Regulus tilts forward a little and James brings his hand back up to cup Regulus’s cheek, stroking his face with his thumb. Regulus’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into the touch, breath warm on James’s wrist. 

“Was there anything I could’ve done?” Regulus whispers, eyes still closed. “Was there anyway I could’ve kept you safe?”

“Nope.” James smiles a little, sad and hurting. “I would’ve found you anyway, love. You could obliviate me right here, right now, and still, the first thing I’d do is ask you if you were okay.” 

Regulus chokes out a small laugh, leaning farther into James’s touch. “I know,” He says softly. “I know you would.”

James longs to take his face in both hands, to pull him to his chest, to keep him safe in any way he knows how. Instead he pulls away, tucking his hands in his pockets again and taking a step back. “You do terrible things to me,” he says eventually, when he’s regained his voice. “You make me do terrible things.”

Regulus blinks at him, lashes only slightly wet. “Like what?”

“Like not telling my best friend about our relationship. Or ignoring the fact that you got the mark. Or putting you before the interests of the Order.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the worst bit. None of it’s your fault. Everything I did, everything I didn’t do, it was completely my choice.” 

“If it helps, you’re the same way. The things I’ve done…”

James supposes it’s his turn to ask. “Like what?” 

Regulus shrugs, a small gesture. “Betraying the Dark Lord, learning occlumency, lying to my family, pushing away my friends, and…”

“And?”

Regulus looks up at him slowly. “And obliviating you.”

“Ah,” James croaks. “Right.” 

“Why is it so easy for you?” Regulus asks softly. “To love me and leave it at that?”

James takes a moment to think about it, tilting his head back to stare at the tall vaulted ceiling. When he looks back down, he has to refocus on the boy in front of him.

“To me, love is simple. And it may not be for you, because your life is made up of variables and options and consequences. But mine’s not. All I know is I care about you. That’s the entirety of it; and it always comes first.” He sighs. “That’s the difference between us, Reg. Love‘s just a factor in your equation. It’s my answer.”

“Then show me,” Regulus says, stepping forward. "Teach me how to love without it killing me.” He takes in a shuddering breath. “From what I’ve seen of love, it only brings pain. And I’m not- I don’t- I can't do that to you, James.”

“You already did,” James says, but it doesn’t come out cruel. “And I’m still here.”

Regulus’s eyes find his, soft and imploring. He looks so pretty, so rarely open, James’s heart physically hurts. “You are?”

Somehow, throughout all this, they’ve moved closer. James didn’t notice until he found he could suddenly count each of Regulus’s lashes. His breath catches in his throat, suddenly intensely aware of their proximity. “I am.”

He distantly remembers a moment long ago, in the same room, in the same place. The door was locked behind them, and Regulus had grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a bruising kiss that sent him reeling. Nothing was the same after that. But now, here, Regulus doesn’t do any of those things. There’s no fire, no clash, no angry and exploding emotions.

Instead, both boys seem to reach for each other silently, meeting in the middle. James’s hands drag up Regulus’s sides to catch his face between them, holding him with all the gentleness he can muster. Regulus’s fingers come to rest in James’s hair, so soft, so tender, thumb lightly pressed against the back of his head. 

This time, when their lips meet, it's not an exploration or an experiment or something undiscovered. They know this, know these motions, know each other's mouths. It’s a homecoming.

The kiss aches of betrayal, of lost trust, of wounds that haven't quite healed. The edges of it linger with hesitation, the press of Regulus's lips so right but so dangerous. James keeps his eyes closed, head spinning and hurting in the way it has been for months, but this time it's different. It's the burn of a healed scar, the sting of stitches pulling an aching wound shut. It’s healing, it's safe, and James relishes in the pain. 

When they separate, James doesn’t let Regulus go. He keeps him close, keeps him near, for all the time he couldn’t. He’s finally got him back, finally put that missing thing back in his chest, and he’s sure as hell not going to let him go again. He cracks his eyes open, blinking once, twice, staring at the boy in front of him.

Something somewhere clicks back into place.

The silence haunting the room is broken by the sound of their breaths. “There you are, love,” James whispers. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Regulus, breathless and soft, doesn’t let him go either. Instead his eyes drift past James’s shoulder and crinkle with a gentle smile. James looks up, taking in a sharp breath.

While his eyes were closed the room had changed around them, shifting and morphing into something else entirely. The bookshelves are back, the bed, the rug, the door. Everything’s the same as they left it. 

Regulus shakes his head and pulls James back in for another kiss. “I love you,” he whispers against his lips. “I’m sorry.”

"I love you too." James says. “And I was never going to let you go.”

Above them, in the dim warm light, constellations blink on the ceiling.

Notes:

I feel like that was a very fluffy chapter considering!! (ignore whatever Barty and Evan are up to)
I had a lot of fun with this one. I was trying to have James and Reg have this long drawn out conversation and instead they just ended up kissing two pages later. Oh well.
Saskias back!! yayyyy! If anyones mad they didn't immediately forgive each other and get along, just think about it from her point of view. She's been left and hurt before, and told him as much, and then he treated her so much better only to hurt her so much worse. She genuinely wants to kill him (as would I)
anyway thank you for reading and waiting!!! the next chapter is coming soon. all my love!!

Chapter 66: All things

As soon as they get home, James locks himself in his room. He tells everyone he needs to rest, and surprisingly they let him go. He lies on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and has a bit of an internal crisis. 

He loves Regulus. He knows he does. That’s never been the issue. But the anger, the betrayal that follows him around like a dog on a lead, is still there. It nips at his heels, making itself known whenever he looks at Regulus’s face. He can’t leave it behind just because they talked about it. 

They also kissed about it, but. Whatever. That part doesn’t matter.

He wonders what happens now. It’s not like they can go back to normal, because there’s never been a normal to go back to. Besides- there’s a war going on. There’s little time to worry about love when the people around him are dying. 

It's just so easy to forget that when Regulus looks at him the way he does.

It's a vicious cycle, truly, back and forth until James’s head spins and his brain hurts. It doesn’t help, of course, that he can no longer trust any of his thoughts. How can he when his brain has been tampered with and twisted against him? 

He wrestles, as he always seems to, with the maelstrom of emotions Regulus raises in him. Does he love him? Yes. Does he trust him? No.

Not anymore.

James can kiss him, can whisper lovely things, can ease his aches and soothe his mind, but he doesn’t know if he can just hand him his heart like he used to. It was the easiest thing, so unconscious, to give him everything. To let Regulus have every part of him. 

Just to watch as Regulus took it, took all he’d been offered, and tore it to shreds. Discarded it like it never meant anything, like it wasn’t even worth fighting for. 

There’s also the ever present fear that he’s still forgetting something. It hovers at the edge of his consciousness, constant and sharp, forcing him to go over all the things he remembers and forgot like a sick loop, searching for inconsistencies and blank spaces. He finds very few. 

He doesn’t want to see Regulus again. Can’t, maybe. Not yet. He just needs a second. 

He forces himself up, sighing, and frowns at the ground. He should go downstairs and deal with the horcrux. Deal with the fallout of the trip.

He doesn't want to. 

It’s okay, he tells himself. Just a few more minutes. 

 

---

 

Regulus feels hyper-aware of the horcrux in the bag at his hip. It makes it heavier by a degree that a simple diadem should not- weighing it down and drawing his attention to it at every possible moment. It radiates dark and evil, sending off a constant wave of energy he’s shocked the others can’t feel. 

He knows why, of course. That doesn’t mean he wants to think about it. 

He stores it under his bed, tucking it in the back corner, the urge to get it as far away from him as possible starting to feel overwhelming. He pulls back onto his knees, taking a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to bury himself under his covers and sleep for years. 

There’s a knock on his door and he stiffens, looking behind him. Sirius raises a brow. 

“What are you doing?”

Regulus takes stock of his current position. “...Praying.”

Sirius snorts, and Regulus pulls himself to his feet. He takes a hesitant seat on the edge of the bed. “How’d the retrieval mission go, then?” Sirius asks. “How long ago did you get back?”

“Ten minutes, give or take.” Regulus finds himself hesitant to look his brother in the eye, memories of the Come and Go room and James’s hands playing on a constant loop in his head.

“Where’s James, then?”

Regulus shrugs, feeling caught. Sirius narrows his eyes. 

“Did you get the horcrux?”

Regulus pauses again, staring at him. It’d be easy to say yes. Easier to say no. He’s not sure what the right move here is. 

Turns out he doesn’t have to choose. 

“You did, didn’t you?” Sirius takes a step towards him. “What is it? Where’d you find it? Have you destroyed it yet?”

Regulus sighs, bringing a hand up to scrub at his face. “Yeah, we got it. It’s a diadem. Ravenclaw’s. I haven’t destroyed it yet.”

“We have to tell Dumbledore and the others. How did you-”

“No. No Dumbledore. Not… not yet. I want a moment first.”

“What, you don’t trust him?”

“Not particularly.” Regulus shrugs. “Also, the Dark Lord knows whenever a horcrux is destroyed. I can’t imagine what he’ll do once he finds out we got the last one.” 

Sirius nods for a moment. “I feel like something’s coming. Like…” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there hasn’t been an attack in a while. I should be happy, but instead I'm just… scared. And I know we probably don’t hear about a lot of it because we’re still kids in Dumbledore’s eyes and there are tons of other people to deal with this, but…”

“I know.” Regulus nods, looking out the window. “I feel like he’s planning something. It’s been far too easy.”

“So finding the horcrux? It wasn’t hard?”

Regulus hesitates. He thinks of Saskia’s mouth, wide and open, scars lining her gums. “It was hard,” he says after a moment. “But not because of anything he’d done.” 

“You talk in riddles sometimes, you know that?”

Regulus stares at him cooly. “Maybe you’re just not smart enough to keep up.” 

Sirius squints at him. “Were you always this much of a shit?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t know.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes and pushes off the doorframe. “I’m supposed to tell you Dumbledore is coming by after dinner today. I don’t think he’s happy you two went off on your own. And I suspect he’ll have some questions about that dream of yours.” He pauses. “As do I.”

Regulus shakes his head. “Okay.” 

“How are… er. How are those healing?” Sirius waves a vague hand in Regulus’s direction, awkwardly indicating the scars littering his skin.

Regulus keeps his face neutral, keeps all the emotions bubbling up inside of him shoved down, barely moving an inch. Don’t think about the water. Don’t think about the hands. “They’re fine.” 

“Are they?”

Regulus holds his ground, eyes locked on Sirius. He says nothing, and eventually the other boy nods. “Right, well.” Sirius takes a step back. “I… er. I wanted to ask about Peter.” 

Regulus raises his brows, motioning for him to continue. 

“I don’t. Well, I do believe it. But none of us know why, or how, or…”

Regulus shrugs. “Got bored. Realised the evil within, set it free. I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be asking you? You were his best mate, not me.”

“I don’t… we didn’t talk like that.”

“Like that being anything other than the new Charms essay or what you had for breakfast?”

“It wasn’t superficial, though. Not really.”

“Well.” 

“Well what?” Sirius snaps. “You didn’t see how he was with us. You didn’t know him.”

“And you do?”

Sirius falters. “I thought I did.” 

“He doesn't have the mark.” 

“I know. We would’ve noticed.” 

“Maybe not. He could’ve-”

“Yeah, glamour. James already told us.”

Regulus goes still, internally shutting down. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. “Did he.”

Sirius nods, humming slightly. “So, when I asked why I never noticed the scars on your arm…” 

Regulus pulls a face, giving him a look that says really? Must we? He stays silent and Sirius rolls his eyes. “Fine. Be like that.”

“Is Snape around?”

“No, thank god. I’m a firm believer he should never be allowed in this house again.”

“Okay.” Regulus frowns, looking down. 

“James is here?”

“Yeah.”

Something ugly twists the corners of Sirius’s mouth but he sighs and nods, dropping a hand from the doorframe. “Thats fucked up,” he mutters as he leaves. “I can’t believe I'm just letting you two live together.” 

Regulus watches him go, repressing a small smirk. He’d be lying if he said Sirius’s turmoil didn’t give him at least a little self-satisfaction.

After a moment he grabs the satchel next to him, opening it and staring down at its contents. There’s just one fang left, long and yellow, lying prone in the bottom. He still has two vials of green venom left, though he finds the sight of them much easier to digest than the tooth. 

Too many, he thinks. Too many left. He just needs the fang for the diadem, and a vial for…

He closes the satchel in the next instant and slips it back under his bed, standing. Sirius is right. He needs to talk to Dumbledore. 

 

---

 

“You found one.”

“The Diadem.”

Dumbledore sits back in his chair, studying Regulus from across the desk. They’re back at Hogwarts, tucked away in his office. Regulus figured it was easiest to just go to him, so he sent a letter and then got granted one-time floo access. 

“The last one.” Dumbledore says, eyes fixed on his. “Right?”

Regulus can’t bring himself to speak. He nods, though even that is hesitant. 

“You didn’t tell me.”

Regulus lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t need to.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t have wanted us poking around the castle aimlessly.”

“Ah, but it wasn’t aimless, was it?” Dumbledore tilts his head. “You knew what you were looking for. You knew where to look.”

“In a way.”

“How?”

“I had a dream.”

Dumbledore doesn’t react, doesn’t judge, just indicates for him to continue. Regulus keeps his gaze cool. “The Dark Lord hid it in the castle. I knew he did. I just followed my instincts.”

“Of course, that begs the question:” Dumbledore starts. “Why, Mr. Black, is it you that’s receiving these premonitions? Why do you fall unconscious when a horcrux is destroyed? Why is Tom letting you get away with this? Why hasn’t he killed you? What makes you special?"

Regulus lets out a slow breath. They watch each other, sitting with some unspoken truth between them, too harsh to say out loud. 

Regulus has never really known what he’s doing. He’s 17 now- barely old enough to legally apperate. He doesn’t know how to kill a dark wizard. He doesn't know how to win a war.

He needs help.                                                                                                                           

“He did something,” he starts, and watches Dumbledore’s eyes fix on him and narrow in concentration. “To me. A long time ago. Something bad.” 

“Explain.”

“He said he… well. It doesn’t matter what he said. It obviously wasn’t true. But it was a spell, of some sort. Afterwards, things were different. He treated me different. He told me to be careful, would make sure I stayed out of trouble, wanted me safe.”

Dumbledore nods slowly. “And then the dreams started.” He pauses. “Did he kill someone to cast this spell?”

Regulus closes his eyes against the truth. It hurts almost as much as it scares him, deep and thoroughly. “I don’t want this.” He murmurs.  

“Then you know what you are.”

“I know what I am. I just don’t want it.” 

“It seems,” Dumbledore says slowly, “That your choice in this war was taken from you a long time ago.” 

“Can’t… can’t we just lock him up and torture him for eternity? Do we have to kill him?”

Dumbledore stays silent, eyes glittering. “You went into that cave prepared to die for this cause, Mr. Black. You put yourself in this. It’s too late for other options.” 

“But-”

“You used to be an individual player, free to move as you please. He made you a chess piece.”

Regulus just shakes his head, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “I can feel the horcruxes. I can feel his magic.”

“And you know why, now.” It’s not a question. 

Regulus’s eyes flick up to meet Dumbledore’s. “I do.”

The headmaster doesn’t smile, for once. The easy gentleness in his gaze is long gone, replaced with something serious and demanding. Regulus finds himself grateful for that much, at least. “I was wondering,” Dumbledore says slowly. “If Tom would do this. I knew about the Horcruxes of course, but I never thought…”

“I guess I was a good enough pet.” 

“I suppose so.”

“A man died.” Regulus sets his jaw and looks down angrily. “A man died to make me what I am.” 

“Then I suppose you better avenge him.”

“How? By trading my life for the cause?”

“By making your life count.”

Regulus stares at a small glass ball on Dumbledore’s desk. “I know.”

“You’re his last hope. Tom’s, I mean. Why do you think he hasn’t hunted you down yet?”

“Well, I obviously know why.”

Dumbledore tsks. “I suspect it may be deeper than you think. He needs you alive, Mr. Black, more than he’s ever needed anything. And who wants to kill themselves when they have so much to lose?”

Regulus sits back in his chair, letting out a breath. “That’s why he’s not attacking. That's why he’s leaving me alone. That's why he let me go.”

James, Sirius, this gentle lull he’s found at the Potter’s house, are all just more reasons to survive. The Dark Lord knows that. Knows that the longer he leaves Regulus in peace, the more he’ll fight to keep it. 

Shit. 

That fucker. 

“So.” Dumbledore says. “You should keep that in mind.” 

Regulus lifts his head to glare at him. “Shut up.”

“You’ve known the truth for a while, I think.” Dumbledore ignores him. “Is that right?”

“I’ve… had suspicions.”

“But you haven’t told anyone.”

“What do you want me to say? That I need to die for us to win this war? That I’m a…” He can’t even bring himself to say the words, too much disgust creeping up his throat when he tries. He now knows why he felt like he was rotting when Voldemort first did this to him. He supposes he is, in a way. 

“I think a lot of people would be glad to know.”

“I don’t.” Regulus sucks in a breath and rubs his eyes. “I just… I need a minute. To figure this out. To deal with it on my own time.”

“That’s the thing, Mr. Black. There is no more time. And of what we do have left, certainly none of it is yours.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth.” 

"You aren't very good at this." 

"I'd be kinder if you needed me to be kinder." 

Regulus stands. He can’t be here any more. He needs air. “Stop.”

“Mr. Black, we can manage this in a reasonable way, we don’t have to-”

But the world's spinning too fast, and Regulus can’t think. He needs to be gone. He needs more time. “I’m leaving. I… I’m leaving.” 

“Mr. Black-”

“No. Just. Bye.” Regulus shakes his head and walks quickly, shutting the door behind him and nearly tripping as he swiftly descends the staircase. At the bottom he pauses, bracing a hand on the cool marble and trying to regulate himself. 

He should never have kissed James in the Come and Go room. 

What a fucking mistake. 

And Sirius, they’re civil now, or something like it. Just another thing the Dark Lord can use against him.

The weight of his missteps make Regulus’s knees weak. He tightens his grip on the wall. Fuck. Fuck . 

He finds his way back to the Potter’s house in a near daze, running on autopilot. He makes it through the wards easily enough, they let him in like second nature by now, and the front door swings open with one touch. 

Sirius, walking into the living room when he enters, pauses at the sight of him. “Hey. How’d it go with-”

Regulus shakes his head, pushing past him. “Don’t fucking talk to me.” It comes out harsher than he would’ve liked, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs Sirius to back up. If he doesn’t push him away now, he may never find the strength to do so in the future. 

Sirius blinks, taken aback, eyes hardening. “Fuck you too, then.”

Regulus is already down the hall and gone. 

 

---

 

Evan hates the meetings. Hates them more than he hates anything. He always stands behind Barty, silent, stiff, as if he was still a participant. At least now, no one can see him. 

Voldemort clicks his fingers on the tile of the table, humming low in the back of his throat. The snake winds its way up his chair, silent and cruel.

There’s a nervous energy hanging in the air around the room, tinted with the anticipation of whatever the Dark Lord will say next. Barty sits staring straight ahead, that dull look in his eye back. Evan wishes he’d be a bit more focused, a bit more tuned in, but he supposes it’s alright for now.

“I have news,” The Dark Lord says eventually. There’s a collective shifting around the room as everyone straightens in their chairs, awaiting his next words. “As some of you know, our end goal has always been to eliminate muggleborns. The final step to this process is ensuring there are none left to reproduce. This starts with the children.”

Evan’s stomach turns over. He looks down, frowning at the floor. 

“Hogwarts has long since been our last step.” The Dark Lord’s eyes glitter. “Soon, we will act. Soon, we will end this war.” 

“At the school, my lord?” Malfoy asks.

“Naturally.” 

“Don’t you think the order would stop us?”

“How can they? We outnumber them greatly. As long as you have me at your head, they can do no damage.” 

“And our plan of attack?”

“I have a weapon. At the school. Something to be unleashed. That, combined with the trap the castle has laid for itself, will ensure our victory. Some of you… some of you will know. The others will have to trust.” 

Bellatrix hums happily. “When, my lord?” She rasps. 

“Soon, Bella. Soon.” 

Evan moves his hand to Barty’s shoulder, squeezing in warning, before he remembers he can’t feel it. “Barty,” He says instead, softly. The other boy just twitches almost imperceptibly in response, not looking at him. 

“Now. On to the attacks at Cambridge. If we prepare well enough, we can avoid falling into the same trap as last time. The order doesn’t know we’re there- maybe we can keep it that way.” 

The meeting drags on, covering past attacks and strategies and so forth. When it’s done, and everyone files out, Evan drags Barty to the side in the hall. “He’s attacking the school?”

Barty frowns a bit but nods. The usually unwavering support for the Dark Lord has apparently dissipated for the time being and Evan couldn’t be happier. “I… think so.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“I’ll… I’ll go along with whatever he tells me.”

“But, Barty,”

“I know. Shit. I know. Spare the lecture, okay?”

“No. This is Hogwarts we’re talking about. This is fucked up. I just…”

Barty curses and looks down. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t change his mind.”

“Tell someone,” Evan begs. “Tell the Order.”

Barty wrinkles his nose. “I…” 

“Come on, Barty. Children. You’re not changing sides or anything. You’re just… acting individually.” 

“But-”

“Barty.”

“I support the Dark Lord.”

“Don’t think about that.” Evan takes a step forward. “Do this for me.” 

Barty’s eyes flick up to meet his reluctantly. “Ev…”

Evan can hear his heartbeat. “I’ll leave. I’ll stop coming if you don’t do this.” It's a bluff, of course. He’d never be able to resist Barty. 

The threat seems to land, though, and Barty takes a step back, genuine fear creeping in around the edges of his expression. “Don’t say that,” He manages hoarsely. “Don’t.”

“Then tell someone.”

“Shit. Fuck. Fine. Who?”

“Who do you think?”

“We don’t even know he’s alive.” 

“Sure we do.” Evan gestures vaguely at his head. “He’s not here , remember?”

“How do I find him?”

“Send an owl. Let it find him.”

“Fucking fine. Shit.” Barty hisses, and Evan feels a flash of victory. 

“Thank you.”

Barty just gives him a look, and stalks off down the hall. 

They meet Regulus at the Hogs Head pub, nestled on the back streets of Hogsmeade. The sign above the door swings when Barty opens it, dust raining down on them as they enter.

He finds Regulus in the back, sitting at a dark table with his head resting against the wall, eyes shut. There are pink scars running across his face, neck, arms, disappearing beneath his clothes. The sight of him sends a rush of relief through Evan so strong that he actually feels weak at the knees. He really missed him.

“Thank fuck,” Barty breathes softly, pausing breifly. “Thank fuck .”

Then he’s moving, carving through the dim light to reach him. “So,” he says drily, dropping into a seat across from him. “Not dead, I see.” 

Regulus startles, blinking a few times before settling back in. He looks Barty over, and Evan has to bite his tongue not to greet him. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Regulus can’t see him. “Not quite yet,” Regulus says drily. 

“They still think you are.” Barty says. “By the way.”

“I assumed.” Regulus leans forward and rubs his eyes, taking a deep breath. He looks tired, Evan thinks. 

“What, no hug for your long lost best friend?” Barty says, reclining in his chair. 

“Barty, “ Evan warns. 

“Cool it,” Barty says with a hiss. “I’m getting there.”

“You could get there quicker. Ask him how he is.”

Barty rolls his eyes but turns back to a very confused Regulus. “How are you, then?”

“Fine.”

“Bloody liar. You’re covered in scars.” 

Regulus clenches his jaw. “Well. Fine now.” 

They stare at each other for a long moment. Barty’s the first to break it, obviously. “So. Why’d you go?”

Regulus doesn’t break eye contact. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

Yes , Evan thinks, please, but Barty just shrugs. “Nah. Not particularly. I want to know why you didn’t tell me, though.”

“What would you have done?”

“Turned you in, probably.”

“Right. You gonna tell anyone about this?”

“Nope.” Barty pops his p, sighing. “Some bastards got leverage on me.” Behind him, Evan smirks. 

“So why am I here, then?” Regulus raises a brow. 

Barty sighs. “They’re going to attack the school.”

Regulus sits forward, face shutting down in an instant. “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Something about unleashing a weapon while they distract you in Cambridge.”

Regulus’s lips part, eyes wide as he stares at Barty. “When?”

“Hell if I know. Soon.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, well. It’s your problem, not mine.” Barty pointedly ignores Evan’s look and kicks at the floorboards under the table. “Just thought you should know.”

“Tell me everything he said,” Regulus interrupts.

“That was basically it, I promise. Just a bunch of shit that didn’t make sense.”

“It might make sense to me.”

“Well, too bad, cause I can hardly remember it now.”

“Barty,” Evan curses. Barty ignores him. 

“Okay,” Regulus whispers, sitting back. “Okay. Thank you.” He looks lost, a little confused, very serious. All tucked away behind a blank exterior. “You… you don’t know anything else?”

“No.” 

Regulus nods, dropping his head into his hands and groaning, low and tired. “Great. Great. Now, too, despite everything. Perfect. Great.” 

“Despite what? What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Regulus runs his fingers through his hair. Evan longs to talk to him. “What did you do with the stone?” He asks, and both Barty and Evan freeze. 

“Barty,” Evan says quickly, because maybe this is his chance. Maybe Barty will let Regulus hold the stone for a minute, and he can see him, and-

“Threw it away,” Barty says nonchalantly. “Didn’t work.”

Something in Evan crumbles. He can’t even speak, just opens his mouth.

“So you just threw it out?” Regulus asks, incredulous. “That was a highly powerful artifact.”

“Yeah, but some poor sod will get more use out of it than I would’ve. It’s fine.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Not fair. You’re the one who gave it to me in the first place.”

“Yeah, so you could see Evan. I was being generous.”

“Why didn’t you see him?”

Regulus pauses. “I don’t know. I tried. I did. He just… didn’t show up.”

Evan takes a few steps towards him, throat closing up. “Tell him,” he whispers, and his voice cracks around each word. “Barty, tell him. I want to talk to him. Please.” 

Barty doesn’t even acknowledge him, sitting back relaxed in his chair. “Interesting. Yeah, well. No point worrying about it now.”

Regulus frowns. “Why wouldn’t he show up? Do you think- is he stuck somewhere or something? Why wouldn't he come?”

“He was always a stubborn bastard,” Barty intones. “Maybe he just didn’t want to.” 

Regulus pauses but nods, looking slightly hurt. Everything in Evan aches. He could scream. “Barty,” he hisses, furious and desperate. “Tell him. Give him the stone. Please, just-” 

“Anyway. I just thought I should tell you, so you don’t go getting yourself killed or something.” Barty sighs, setting a heavy hand down on the table. “Wish I had more to give you.”

Regulus shakes his head. “It’s… it’s fine. Yeah, thanks. I can’t believe he’s… I mean, children… ”

“Merlin, Reg, you’ve gone soft.” Barty snorts. “What happened to the bloodthirsty bastard I knew?”

Regulus narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth, about to retort, and then closes it again. “Yeah,” he says eventually, deflating a bit. “I’m starting to think you’re right.” He rubs his forehead. “Maybe I should let the children die.”

Barty chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Evan looks between them, frustrated and aching. “Let me talk to him.” he demands, not recognizing the chill in his voice. He watches Barty’s eyes widen for just a moment, and thinks that maybe- just maybe- but no.

“Whats new with you, then?” Barty asks, and Evan might just kill him. “Out of the things you can tell me, of course. Have you seen Pandora?”

“Only once. After… after the beach.” Regulus looks away. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“And Dorcas?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen her.”

“How is she?”

“Basically a Gryffindor now. In essence anyway.”

“Huh. Figures.” 

“I want to talk to Dorcas,” Evan says, because it hardly matters anymore. 

Regulus talks over him. “Have you seen Pettigrew?”

“Sometimes. But he’s really no good now that the Order found him out. He’s such a cowardly rat. No one trusts him, least of all the Dark Lord.”

“Fascinating.”

Evan presses his lips together, rage boiling into a furious silence.

They talk some more, briefly, tense, barely skating the surface of what either of them have been up to. Eventually, when it’s clear that there’s nothing else to cover but the things neither of them can say, Barty stands. “Okay, well. Thanks for coming, Reg. I’ll see you on the battlefield.” 

“Yeah, sure. Fuck off.”

Barty grins his signature grin and gives him a two finger salute, turning and walking out. He doesn’t acknowledge the barkeep.

Evan follows him out, because he has to, because he has no other choice, lingering as long as he can to watch Regulus take a deep breath and screw up his face, obviously doing his best to pull himself together. 

And then the stone tugs on his stomach, and he nearly trips in his hurry to follow Barty out the door.

He finds him waiting outside the pub, leaning up against the wall with his crossed arms. He already has a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks up and gives Evan an apologetic, guilty, smile.

“Hey, Ev. Look-”

“Don’t speak to me.”

“Evan-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“It would’ve made everything so much more complicated. You gotta understand. Plus, I’m not sure he could’ve handled that. Did you see how worn out he looked?”

“Don’t.” Evan turns around, staring across the street with a set jaw. He can’t even look at Barty right now.

“I don’t even think it would’ve worked, I mean, honestly-”

“No. You wanna know what I think?” Evan rounds on him, wishing he could rip that cigarette out of his mouth. “I think you’re a jealous, insecure bitch who was too afraid to let anyone else touch the stone just on the off chance you might lose me. Well, fuck that, because I’m always here. I’m right fucking here, and I have been for fucking weeks, and you could’ve handled five bloody minutes without me.” 

Barty’s eyes widen, pupils dilating. He pushes off the wall and past Evan, starting off down the street. “Just leave it.” 

“No. I wanted to talk to him. I haven’t seen him in- in so long- and he was right there, and you couldn’t even-” His voice cracks and he hates it, but he misses Regulus.

“With the path he’s going down, I’m sure you’ll see him soon enough.” Barty mutters. Evan fumes. 

“I’d rather see him alive, thank you. Why the fuck couldn’t you have just- just let me talk to him-”

“Drop it.” Barty takes another drag.

“No. No, I won’t, because you’re being an unreasonable ass and I deserve to know why.” Evan follows him down the street, nearly shouting as he gestures. 

Barty whirls on him, eyes glinting. “You wanna know why? Because you’re mine, Evan. You’re mine. No one else's. Not Regulus, not Dorcas’s, not death’s. And you want me to let you go again? After I already lost you once?”

Evan’s heart stutters in his chest. “It- it would’ve been five minutes.”

“But would it have? Or would you have wanted hours with Reg? And when he gave the stone back, what if it didn’t work? What if you got stuck somewhere and I never saw you again? I can’t take chances like that. Not like this. Not with us.” Barty glares at him, flicking his cigarette to the sidewalk and stepping on it.

“So what, I’m stuck following your whims? I can handle myself, you know.”

Barty snorts. “Remember what happened last time I let you handle yourself?” He reaches out and waves a hand through Evan’s head, passing through air. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck that. I make the decisions now.” 

Evan stares at him. He doesn’t know if he should find this raw sort of emotion hot, but. Sue him. “I’m already yours, you know.” He says after a moment. “I’d come back to you. I always do.” 

“Yeah, cause you have to. Cause I have the stone. Who knows what you’d do if I let it go.” 

Evan pauses. Would he come back? Would he trade the peace of death for the pain of a life with Barty?

“If you asked,” Evan whispers eventually. “I’d answer.” 

Barty stares at him for a long moment. “This isn’t healthy, you know. For either of us.”

And oh, Evan knows. He’s well aware. But- “And?”

Barty smirks, shrugging. “And I don’t care.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thought so.” 

“So are you going to stop being such a baby and come back with me?”

“Not like I have a choice,” Evan mutters, but walks ahead anyway. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

Still, though, Evan wishes he could’ve talked to Regulus. 

It’s been too long.

 

---

 

James forces himself out of his room the next day, but only because his mother asks him to. He grumbles the whole way down, complaining about getting proper sleep and rest, as Effie just smiles. “You also need to eat,” she says. “I shouldn’t have to remind you to consume food. You’re too old for that.” 

“Yeah, well.” James follows her into the kitchen, plopping himself down at the table. Sirius and Remus enter a moment later. Remus smiles at James and Sirius deliberately avoids his eyes, clearing his throat and setting in.

“Is Regulus around?” James asks, looking around. He hasn’t seen him since Hogwarts.

“I think so,” Remus says.

“He’s being an ass,” Sirius mutters, crossing his arms. “Like usual.” 

James furrows his brows, confused, but glances up when Regulus enters the kitchen. Reg meets his eyes, just briefly, smiling hesitantly. Then it slips and his face falls, eyes filled with something James doesn’t understand.

“Hello Regulus,” Effie says. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“I…”

“We’re just going to have a bit of a talk.”

What? James looks up at her, confused, just to find her still watching Regulus. He turns to the other boy, whose eyes go wide in understanding. “Oh. Oh . Yeah, um. I’m alright. I’ll go. Thank you, though.” 

“What?” James says out loud. “What talk?”

“Actually, maybe you should join us,” Effie says, and Regulus looks absolutely miserable.

“Okay. If you want.” Regulus hesitantly sinks into a seat next to James, eyes on the table.

“What’s going on?” James whispers to him, ducking his head. Regulus just swallows, not responding.

“Effie?” Sirius asks, brows slightly furrowed. 

Effie takes a seat at the head of the table, hands wrapped around her cup. She stares at the table for a long moment, before looking up to hesitantly meet their eyes. “I… okay. Let's just do it.” 

Under the table, Regulus’s hand skirts over to James, resting on top of it lightly. His thumb moves in small circles over his skin. 

Something sinks in James’s stomach. 

“When your father got sick, the doctors warned us it would come for me next. They said it would only be a matter of time.” Effie starts, and James's world crashes down around him. “They were right.”

He can’t breathe. 

Can’t speak. 

He grabs Regulus’s hand then, squeezing tight, maybe too tight, but he needs something to hold on to, needs someone , because his mother is-

“But you don’t- you don’t have it, right?” Sirius' voice comes out a little unnatural, laced with a fake cheer. 

Effie clears her throat, giving him a watery smile. “It’s alright,” she says softly. “I was never not going to get it. With my age, and my exposure to Monty-” 

“Wait, but-” Sirius' breaths come too fast.

James finds his voice at last, shaking. “Mum?” 

“I still have a while,” Effie says, pushing on as if she didn’t just drop life shattering news. “At least a few months, if not longer. And- and I’m okay, really.” 

“You’re really sick?” Remus murmurs softly. She nods. 

“How did we not notice?” Sirius asks. 

“Glamour.” She shrugs, and something on her skin shifts and falls away. There, nestled low on her neck, glint small green scales. James’s stomach caves in.

“I should’ve noticed,” He whispers. He squeezes Regulus’s hand harder.

“That’s sort of the point of it,” Effie says with a half smile that James doesn’t return. 

“But- is it incurable? Surely…”

“The doctors say it’s too late.”

“They said that about Dad too,” James says, and the table goes silent. 

Everyone, in shocking unison, turns to look at Regulus. 

There's a flicker of something inside James’s chest, hope, maybe, burning bright at the memory of his father’s potions. Maybe this time, if Regulus could team up with actual doctors, then…

But Regulus’s expression doesn’t change, cold and slightly remorseful. It tells James everything he needs to know. 

“I…” Regulus starts, looking to Effie for help. 

“I told Regulus I didn't want any cures.” Effie says, and every head snaps back to her. “They may have worked, but I saw what they did to Monty. I don’t want that for myself.”

“But. But we could try, and maybe-” James leans forward, staring at her intently, refusing to give up so easily. 

“No, James. I’ve made up my mind.”

“You knew?” Sirius spits, looking across the table at his brother.

“He just noticed. I never told him.” Effie cuts in.

“I’m good with glamour,” Regulus bites back at his brother, giving him a cool stare. 

“Regardless, I’m continuing with treatment and the doctor’s recommendations, and I feel fine. Well… yeah, I feel fine. I just thought you all deserved to know.”

“Mum,” James says again, all other words seeming to have escaped him at some point. Regulus’s thumb skirts down the side of his hand gently.
I can’t lose her too, James thinks.

Not both of them. Not now.

Not ever. 

“Wait, but- but isn’t there anything we can do?” Sirius says. 

James opens his mouth, closes it. His heart is beating too fast in his chest. Is this what shock feels like?

“I’m happy. I’ve led a good life. And- and I’m not ready, but I don’t have to be yet. I have time. I want you guys to accept this as much as you can, while you can. Nothing's going to change for a while.” 

James shakes his head, feeling like a fish out of water. There’s no air in his lungs. “How much time?” he manages. 

“At least five months.”

Five months. 

Five. 

Five. 

James makes a small choked sound in the back of his throat. “But-”

“It’s okay, James.” 

He shakes his head. Drops Regulus's hand. “Yeah.” he stands carefully, pushing his chair back in. “Okay. I’m going on a walk.”

“James-” Sirius starts. He shares a look with Remus. “He did this last time. Spending the day as a stag isn’t going to help things.”

“It’s a walk, Sirius. On two feet.” James doesn’t have the energy to glare at him. “It's fine. I just want air.” 

“Fuck off then.”

“Wow, real original."

“Well-”

“Boys,” Effie cuts in. “Maybe save it for a moment?”

“I’ll be back later,” James says, turning around and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Behind him, he hears Regulus shift. “Sorry, spend the day as a fucking what?”

Oh. Oops. 

“Be back by lunch,” Effie says. “I want to keep talking about this.”

James nods, unable to look at her. He won't until she puts the glamour back up, he decides. The door swings shut behind him. 

 

---

 

Remus’s chest feels heavy for the rest of the day. Unnaturally weighed down, the instinct to stay down stairs and talk with Effie outweighs the desire to keep to himself. He helps her clean up after breakfast, sits with her in the living room as they read silently, refills her tea. She keeps catching him staring at her, at her neck, and gives him a sad smile each time. He wishes he had her strength in this- he isn’t nearly as regulated as she is.

About midday, there’s a knock at the door, and Remus has half a mind to let it go ignored. “Remus, love, will you get that?” Effie asks, and he frowns but stands anyway. 

He looks through the peephole first, just in case, before pulling it open and sighing. “Literally what.”

Snape stands on the stoop, looking grim. “Is Dumbledore here?”

“No. He’s at school.”

“Shit. Is someone here?”

“Reg is, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Let me in.” 

“Are you a vampire?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Fine. Take your shoes off.”

Snape glares, but enters anyway. He shifts awkwardly, looking around. Effie looks up from the couch, frowning slightly. “Snape,” She says, and he nods at her. 

“What’s he doing here?” Sirius says, coming down the stairs.

“I have news,” Snape starts, and something in his voice sends alarm bells ringing in Remus’s head. “It’s not good.”

“Yeah,” Regulus says, appearing in the doorframe to the hall. He sets his jaw, eyes glinting. “So do I.”

Notes:

Guys... I have no excuse for the date on this one. forgive me.
Also... final chapter count how we feeling!! I updated it, saw it was going to be 69, and then spent two solid minutes staring at my computer wondering how I could add or subtract a chapter to make it literally any other number. oh well.
You'll get a black brothers hug before the end of this, I promise.
What else to say. I really don't like how this chapter came out. I have no idea why, I just don't love it. Anyway. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 67: Cambridge

“Well?” Remus leans forward at the table, crossing his arms. “You’ve got us all here.”

“Not Dumbledore,” Snape says testily.

“You won’t be able to reach him,” James says. He wants to get this over with. There’s a bad feeling brewing in his stomach. “Unless you want to send a Patronus.”

“Can anyone here conjure one?”

No one at the table speaks. Snape sighs. Rolls his eyes. “Well, then lets just get this over with.”

Regulus, across from James, narrows his eyes as he studies Snape. He looks beautiful in the soft living room light. “Do you know the same thing I do?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh my god, one of you had better say something within the next two seconds,” Sirius cuts in. 

“Fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Snape takes a deep breath. “The Dark Lord is planning to attack Hogwarts.”

James’s stomach sinks so fast he almost loses his breakfast all over the table. “What?”

“So it is the same, then.” Regulus says, frowning and sitting back.

“When?” Remus asks. 

“I have no idea. Soon. He wouldn’t have told us if it wasn’t a certain thing.” Snape runs a hand through his greasy hair. “He said something about a weapon hidden there, though none of us knew what that meant I don’t think.” 

“Why would he-” James can’t even form words through his shock. He glances at Regulus, dismayed. “Why would he do this?”

Regulus gives him a long, searching look, brows pinching. “I don’t know. I wish I did.” 

“I do.” Sirius glances up. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s always wanted to exterminate muggles. Why not start with the children? If they never grow up, they’ll never breed.”

James feels sick. 

“Yeah, that's basically it,” Snape says. “But there’s more. I think… I think he wants to have Hogwarts under his control. I mean, he doesn’t need to kill everyone if he can just forcibly convert them to his side, right? In his eyes, spilling pure blood is a waste. I don’t know what to do. We can’t exactly stop him, but maybe we can meet him there.”

“That would be great if we knew when,” Remus says.

“We obviously can’t leave the kids there,” James cuts in. “We have to send them home. Now.”

“How do we get word to Dumbledore?”

“I’ll go to him,” Snape says. “He gave me the ability to get there through the floo. I can tell him- I just thought I should warn you first.”

“Why?”

Snape looks at Regulus. “Cause if I don’t tell you, no one will. None of us are important enough to be kept in the loop.”

James nods. “Okay, so Snape will go, and we’ll wait till Mum comes home and tell her, and she’ll send a patronus. That will be quickest.” 

“I doubt it will be today,” Snape says. “I’d know. He’d tell us. Call us.”

James watches as Regulus’s hand unconsciously drifts to his forearm. He wonders if the spell would still activate on him. “That’s true,” Remus says from the head of the table. “He needs numbers.

Snape wouldn’t even be able to be here if it was gonna be any time soon.”

“Still, though,” James insists. “We can’t just leave them there and then wait till they start dying.”

“They’d have to be sent home on the train,” Snape says. “It could take a minute.”

“What? Why not the floo network?”

“You don’t think he has people watching that? It’s monitored by the ministry. He doesn’t have control over everything over there, but I guarantee he does for that.”

“So the train is our only option?” Sirius asks.

“This is not our choice.” Snape says. “I just know he’s planning to attack. I don’t know when, I don’t know why. We need to tell the people making the actual decisions and leave it to them.”

“The Horcrux,” Regulus says. He stares at the table. “The Diadem. He doesn't know we have it.”

“You haven’t destroyed that yet?” Snape asks, aghast.

“He’d know the minute we do. Every bit of his power would immediately go on the defensive. He’d start the fight right away. It’s a trigger.” Remus frowns. “It’s his last defense. Without that, he’s mortal.”

Across the table, Regulus presses his lips together.

“We found it in Hogwarts,” James realizes. Regulus nods. 

“He wants to take control of the school and protect the diadem. He needs to get to it to make sure it’s safe. He can’t exactly sneak in, so he’s storming the castle.”

James shakes head. “Fuck.”

Remus shakes his head. “It’s okay. We still have time to figure it out.” 

“Also-” Regulus starts. “He’s going to attack Cambridge, I think, and use it as a distraction.”

“Cambridge? Why Cambridge?”

“I have no idea.”

“How did you find out?” Snape asks, turning to Regulus. “Assuming this is what you had to tell us.”

“It is. And a friend told me.”

“Barty,” At least half the table says. Regulus rolls his eyes. 

“A friend who shall remain anonymous, thank you very much.”

"This is bad timing," Remus says quietly. 

Sirius looks up, face falling. "Shit."

"What?" Snape snaps. 

"It's the full moon tonight." 

Oh. Fuck.

"It's okay," James says quickly. "He probably wouldn't attack so soon after he told everyone about it. We probably have time. And- and it's not like you turn anymore." 

"What?" Snape asks. "Lupin doesn't go full beast anymore? Wolfsbane isn't that good." 

"The portioner we found is," Sirius snaps. "So. Stay out of this." 

"You're the one who brought me into it, Black. If you remember."

That shuts Sirius right up. 

"Either way," Remus cuts in. "Even if I don't turn, the werewolves in Voldemort's army still will. There's no chance this date is a coincidence." 

"Oh." Snape looks down. 

“Okay. We’ll give it twenty minutes to wait for Effie, and Snivellus will go after Dumbledore.” Sirius pushes up from the table. James almost goes after him before remembering they don’t do that anymore. 

Regulus meets his eyes across the table and gives him a sad smile. James’s stomach clenches. “Okay.” He manages. “Thirty minutes.”

He gets to his bedroom, well aware Regulus is following him. He turns once he hears the door shut behind him, running a hand through his hair. Regulus looks him over, letting out a soft breath. James wants him closer. He crosses to him, dropping his head onto the shorter boy’s shoulder. His warmth, even through that small point of contact, spreads through him like a potion. “Children,” he mumbles. “Children.”

Regulus’s hand comes up, cupping the back of James’s head, running his fingers through his hair. “We knew he was leading up to something like this.”

“I can’t lose this war, Reg. I just can’t.”

Regulus pulls back. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen.” 

James frowns. “Don’t talk about it like it’s just your burden. You aren’t fighting alone.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching. “Sure, Potter. Mr. I can't lose this war.”

“It’s not the same,” James insists. “I can’t lose you either.”

Something unreadable passes over Regulus’s gaze. “Yeah? Would you rather lose me or the war?”

James stares at him, studying his face. His expression. His eyes. He’s so lovely, James thinks. “I can’t lose you,” he says again, and then leans down to kiss him before he has the chance to respond. 

Regulus kisses him back, humming lightly into his mouth. “Are you gonna talk to Sirius?”

“About what?” James cups his cheek, pulling him in closer and kissing him harder. 

“About this. Us. Whatever you’re fighting about.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“James.”

“He’s being an arse.”

“And you’re fucking his little brother, so.”

James raises a brow at him, smirking. “Am I?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, moves backwards a bit. “Maybe. Depends.”

James takes a step closer. “On what?”

Regulus smirks. “He’s slightly justified, is all I’m saying.”

James pouts. “You were the one who wouldn’t let me tell him.”

“I don’t regret that. He would’ve always reacted the way he did.”

“So why are you telling me to make up with him now? Do you two suddenly get along or something?”

Regulus shrugs. “No. But it’s making you unhappy.”

“It made me unhappy before.”

“Yeah, but the secret’s out now.”

“I’ll talk to him. At some point.”

“Good.” Regulus takes a deep breath, stepping back and sinking onto the edge of the bed. He braces his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “That’s good.”

James studies him from the middle of the room. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Regulus.” 

“James.”

“Is it the scars? Are they hurting you?”

Regulus looks away, expression closing off. James frowns, frustrated at himself. He shouldn’t have brought them up. He knows Regulus doesn’t care about what he thinks, but the urge to tell him they don’t bother him appears anyway. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks stupidly. “What happened at the lake, I mean.”

Regulus’s knuckles turn white where he grips his knees. He shakes his head. 

James nods. “Okay. Okay, yeah, we don’t have to. I just…”

“What?”

“You were about to die, Regulus. If Snape hadn’t been there… I guess it just scares me how willingly you’d sacrifice everything.”

“I didn’t have much to sacrifice back then.” Regulus mutters. “You were gone, Evan was gone, my mother already would hardly look at me… it made the most sense.”

“Killing yourself?”

“I wasn’t killing myself. I didn’t want to die.”

“But you didn’t care if you did, is that it?”

“I cared. Of course I cared. I fought. I wouldn’t have these scars if I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

Regulus looks up, something urgent in his gaze. “I hated that lake, James. The water. Those hands. I couldn’t- I couldn’t get them off me. And then I was drowning, and I had to choose between keeping my breath or fighting.”

James crosses to him, sitting down on the bed. “Regulus.”

“I just wanted to breathe, but I couldn’t, and they were touching me, and hurting me, and...”

“Regulus,” James says again, quietly. “Take a breath.”

Regulus nods, doing so, fingers flexing on his lap. “It was so… consuming. And I realized, finally, after fucking years, that I didn’t want to die.” His shakes his head, eyes cold and mean. 

James frowns, putting a careful arm around his back. “That’s a good thing, right? Shouldn’t that be good?”

Regulus stares at him, expression familiarly blank.  

“You won’t,” James says, with absolute certainty. “None of you will.” He pauses. “If this isn’t about the lake, is it the Horcruxes?”

“Why would it be the Horcruxes?”

“I don’t know. You just-” He lets out a harsh breath. “Why do you pass out every time we destroy one? Why do you sense them the way you do? Why do you have dreams telling you where they are?”

Regulus’s eyes flick to the side quickly. “When I was still working for him,” he says after a moment, “Bella taught me Occlumency. I was able to connect to the Dark Lord’s mind in one of our exercises. I guess I still must be experiencing some of his emotions even after I severed the tie.”

James stares at him, shocked. Not because of the story Regulus is telling, or that he figured out how to do a mindlink with Occlumency, but because he’s absolutely certain everything Regulus just said was a lie. 

Which means- there’s some other truth. Something Regulus knows. Something he won’t share. 

Regulus turns his face into James’s shoulder, evidently wanting to move on from that conversation. “I don’t want you to fight in whatever’s coming up.”

James feels a simultaneous mix of love and frustration wash through him. He knows this is Regulus’s way of expressing his emotions, his care for James, and yet- and yet this sentiment has led him to great, terrible lengths before. “You know I will.”

“I know. I’m not going to try.”

“Good.” 

James leans down and nudges Regulus with his shoulder so he looks up at him. “It’s all going to be fine,” he says softly. “Everythings going to be fine.”

Regulus puts a hand up to James’s cheek, pulling him forward into a soft kiss. His mouth is warm and gentle, so enticing and comforting at the same time. Regulus is all he needs, James decides. If he can get through this war with Regulus by his side, he’ll be alright. 

He’ll do whatever he has to do. 

“James, shouldn’t- what the fuck? ”

James hurriedly breaks the kiss, head snapping towards the doorway. Sirius stands, one hand on the frame, watching them with wide eyes. He looks furious.

“Sirius,” James says, voice more of a croak. “We were just-”

“Busy,” Regulus finishes coldly, staring his brother down. “Leave.”

“What the fuck? ” Sirius asks again. “James, you said you’d leave him alone. Is this- is this a thing now?”

“I never said- I mean, I may have temporarily agreed, but that was when-” James stumbles.

“Sirius. Get out.” Regulus repeats.

“No. This- this is fucked up. Like astronomically fucked up. There has to be some law that prevents this. What the fuck.”

“James,” Regulus says, so sweetly, and James immediately looks back at him. “Ignore him,” Regulus whispers, and then leans back in. 

And James shouldn’t, really, he should push him away and talk to Sirius and wait till this all blows over, but he’s never resisted Regulus before and he’s not about to start now. Regulus kisses him again, lips closed, and James can’t help but kiss him back, making a small sound and leaning forward to chase him a bit even after Regulus pulls away.

“Stop!” Sirius shouts from the doorway. “Oh my god. Merlin. Fucking fine, you win, I don’t want to see this shit. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready to be functional adults, because we obviously have things to talk about. Some of us need to go to the Ministry.” 

“What?” James sits forward a bit. “Why would we need to go to the Ministry?" But Sirius is already gone down the hall, leaving an empty space in the open door. 

Regulus sighs. “Unfortnuately, I think the idiot’s right.”

James turns to him. “Why?”

“They should know, and it’s better to deliver the news in person. Some people should wait for Effie. Like you. You should not go anywhere.”

“Reg-”

“Just- let me go. And Sirius. I’ll talk to him. It’ll be good for us.”

James eyes him suspiciously. “Fine.”

Regulus smiles, looking him over, and the sight has James’s heart melting a little bit. “Come on,” he says. “We can continue this later. Uninterrupted."

James takes one last moment in Regulus’s space, breathing his smell, worshipping his warmth, before he nods. “I’m holding you to that.”

 

---

 

Regulus crosses his arms against the wind, standing outside Godric’s Hollow. A few dry leaves scatter down the pavement at his feet. He shivers. 

“I want Remus.” Sirius says, stepping up next to him. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead, filled with anger.

“Too bad,” Regulus says. “You get me.”

“We’re taking the bike.”

“That death trap? Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, no, you actually don’t get a choice in this one.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “We can both apparate. It’s so ridiculously easy-”

“No.”

“Sirius-”

“We’re taking the bike, or you’re staying here.”

Regulus sighs, staring at his brother, trying to channel whatever hints of patience he has left. “Fine.” 

They take the bike.

It’s, as predicted, horrible. 

Somehow, magically, they touch down on solid ground. Regulus thinks he might vomit. He groans, stumbling off the bike. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Get over yourself.” There’s a glint in Sirius's eye, face flushed from the ride. “Who are we even looking for?”

“Someone who knows what’s happening in Cambridge.”

“What is happening in Cambridge?”

“I think there’s a research project going on down there. Something for the Ministry.”

“About what?”

Regulus gives him a look. “How should I know?”

“You need to cover your face before you go in there.” Sirius says. “Glamour or something. You’re supposed to be dead, remember?” 

Regulus rolls his eyes, frowning. “Fine.” He casts his glamour, the same one he used when he visited Dumbledore, and turns back to his brother. “Good?”

Sirius looks him over. “Passable.”

Regulus ignores him and moves forward, opening the door to the red telephone box. “In here.”

Sirius looks wary but steps in behind him, watching as Regulus punches in the numbers. He jolts when the lift starts to move, taking them beneath the streets of London. “I hate this,” he mutters. 

“You hate a lot of things.”

Neither of them speak again until they reach the lobby, moving forward to the main desk. “We need to speak to someone regarding the research in Cambridge.” Sirius says. “It’s on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix." 

The balding man behind the desk gives them a suspicious look over his glasses. “Dumbledore hasn’t given us any word you’d be coming in.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t know yet. Though, if you have a way of contacting him-”

“Doesn’t know what?”

“Sorry, but this is official Order information. We really need to speak to someone specific.”

“Who?”

Sirius groans, mildly frustrated. “We don’t know. Whoever’s overseeing the Cambridge operation.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man.”

“Then can you get us to Dumbledore? Or someone in contact with him?”

“How am I supposed to get you to Dumbledore? Why not go to Hogwarts yourselves?”

“I mean-” Sirius looks at Regulus and then back at the man. “I suppose we could, but-”

“Sirius!” A familiar voice cuts in behind them. “What are you doing here?” 

Regulus turns, itching to reach for his wand. 

Moody glares at them, magical eye flicking back and forth quickly. Sirius lets out a breath of relief. “Moody. Good. We were trying to tell this man that we need to talk to someone who knows what’s happening in Cambridge.”

Moody glares, stalking forward and grabbing Sirius and Regulus by the arms and pulling them across the hall. Regulus immediately yanks his arm back, hissing through his teeth and reaching into his pocket for his wand. Clean fury burns in his veins. 

“You idiots,” Moony growls. “Just showing up here. Come on, we’ll talk in my office. Baby Black, I assume it’s you under all that, right?”

“You have an office here?” Sirius asks as Regulus lets out a low growl. This is not who he wants to be talking to right now.

“Just temporarily. Most senior members do.”

Regulus turns to Sirius as they walk, eyes narrowed. “I can’t-”

“Just talk to him for a few minutes. For the Order.”

“I don’t do things for the Order.”

“For the greater good, then. Come on.”

Regulus presses his lips together in a thin line. “Fine.”

They follow Moony down twisting halls and into an unmarked door, stepping into his office. Sirius sinks into a chair. Regulus stands behind him, crossing his arms. “We have information for Dumbledore.”

“So tell me, and I’ll tell him.”

“I want to speak with him.”

“He’s busy.”

“What, running the school?”

“You can tell me anything you can tell him. I’ll know anyway.”

“I won’t-”

“Hogwarts is going to be attacked.” Sirius cuts in. “We don’t know when.”

Moody’s gaze snaps to him. Regulus feels his jaw clench. “Why?” Moody rasps. “How do you know?”

“Snape told us.” Sirius glances at Regulus. “Also-”

“That’s it.” Regulus snaps. “Just Snape.”

Sirius narrows his eyes but nods. “Just Snape. And we don’t know why. Assumedly to kill as many children as possible, though that seems harsh even for him.”

“He wants to unleash a weapon,” Regulus says, forcing the words off his tongue. “Something inside the castle. Also, he still doesn’t know…” he trails off, wondering if they told the elders about the Diadem. He told Dumbledore, but did he tell the others? No point hiding it now, he supposes. “He doesn't know we got the last Horcrux.” 

“Which was stored in Hogwarts?”

“Yeah. He’s probably going back to look for it,” Sirius explains. “Or something like that. Who’s to say. All we know is he’s planning to attack.”

“The lockdown procedure will protect the kids.” 

Regulus shakes his head. “There’s a spell.”

Sirius turns to look at him, confused. “How do you know about that? Remus invented it.”

Regulus raises his brows. “Peter.”

Sirius’s face falls, expression closing off. He silently turns back around in his chair. “There is a spell,” he confirms quietly. 

“We’ll adjust then. I’ll tell Dumbledore. Write the spell down for me.” 

“You’ll talk to Dumbledore?”

“As soon as I can,” Moody growls. “If Snape hasn’t gotten there first.”

“He probably has.”

“Then no doubt the castle is already going on the defensive. The professors will be strengthening the wards and Dumbledore will call some members of the Order to be at the ready, waiting in case they have to protect the students. Don’t worry- we’ve discussed this possibility many times.”

Sirius slips the spell, scrawled on a piece of parchment, across the desk. Regulus looks up. “We need to get someone to Cambridge. They’re going to attack it as a distraction.”

“Cambridge.” Moody grunts, staring at him. “Interesting.”

“What’s happening over there?”

“The Auror department has set up a training facility for emergency protection. They’re recruiting at ever increasing numbers.”

“We should go. Disband that immediately, or bring in trained Aurors to meet the threat.”

“You have no idea how this works,” Moody growls. “And you don’t make the decisions.”

Regulus steps forward, arms dropping to his sides. “I know that those people are going to die if we don’t get people there on time. But you’ve never cared much about death, have you?”

Moody plants his hands on his cane and pushes himself up. “If you were in my position, boy, you’d understand-”

“I would have never done what you did. Never.” Regulus spits, anger surging within him.

“Done what? What is this about?”

Regulus can’t even speak through his fury. He doesn’t even know. “I’d finish the job he started right now if we didn’t have a war to win,” Regulus says, voice low. “I’m glad he took your eye. He should’ve killed you too.”

“Oh,” Moody’s eye lights up. “The Rosier boy. That scum. Is that the source of all this hate? He wasn’t worth all that.”

Regulus reaches for his wand, silent. 

“Regulus,” Sirius hisses, standing and grabbing his arm. “Stop. We don’t need infighting right now.”

Regulus rips out of his grasp, breathing hard. He stares at Moody, every inch of him itching to attack.

“Regulus,” Sirius says again, voice quiet. Regulus is suddenly hit with an odd sense of deja vu, overwhelming. He remembers standing next to the Great Lake, the snow crunching under his feet. Pandora was lying unconscious behind him, and Avery was gasping beneath his wand. There was blood on the snow.

Sirius had been the one to break him out of it then, too.

Now, in Moody’s office, the fight seeps out of him. He can’t be here any more, can’t stand Moody’s gleeful eyes or Sirius’s wide expression. The walls feel too close.

He turns, suddenly desperate to be gone. He pushes out the door and down the hall, distantly aware his brother is following him. He shoves through the atrium and into a designated apparition section, feeling Sirius grab his arm just as he turns into space.

They appear a few blocks away, in some sort of park. St. James’s, Regulus thinks. Ironic. Sirius sways behind him, muttering something under his breath. 

“We’re gonna have to go back for the bike, you know.”

“You’re welcome to. I will be apperating home.” Regulus turns to the trees, taking a few deep breaths of the cold air and vanishing the glamour covering his face. 

Sirius steps up behind him. “What was that, Reg? You couldn’t be civil with him for one conversation?”

Regulus turns to look at him. “If he killed one of your best friends, would you be civil?”

“He…” 

“You’re telling me if he murdered James right in front of you, you’d be just fine?”

Sirius lets out a long breath. “James is a bad example.”

“Oh, you love him. You’re just being a little bitch right now.” Regulus walks a few feet and sinks onto a bench, crossing his arms in front of his chest. It’s chilly out.

Sirius stares at him. “I hate him.”

“You do not.”

“He-”

“I’m very well aware of what he did.”

Sirius frowns. “I hate you too.”

“That, at least, is to be expected. You and James, though, have always been… well, you know.”

Sirius pauses, then sinks down next to him. “That’s not so true as of late. Especially these last two years.” 

Regulus stares at the grass, slightly withered. “Aside from me?”

“Yeah. First he didn’t tell me about Monty being sick. And then I messed up with Remus. And then we… we didn’t necessarily grow apart, but it was harder when I knew he was keeping a secret and refused to talk to me about it.”

“And then me.”

“And then you.” 

They go quiet, listening to the dry leaves rustle. Regulus’s chest feels tight. 

“Fuck.” Sirius says after a moment, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Why you?”

Regulus lets out a soft chuckle. “I’ve been asking myself that since he kissed me.”

“Oh yeah, by the way, no more kissing. That’s done.”

Regulus smirks, but doesn't quite feel it. His face falls after a second. No more kissing. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” he murmurs.

Sirius looks down at him, brows pinching. “You know, he stayed with you even after he found out about the mark. He saw it before you showed it to him.”

“I know. He told me.”

“And… what? You think that’s fine?”

“I think James doesn’t know what to do with all the love he has. I think he lets his emotions get the better of him.”

“I know that. Obviously I know that. But… but you were a Death Eater, Reg. Or you might as well have been. And he didn’t care.”

Regulus’s throat closes up. Tears press behind his eyes. He won’t cry. He’s never been loved so completely before. “Yeah.”

“Why? Why would he just let that slide?” Sirius looks back out. “I don’t get it. The James I thought I knew would rather die than sympathize with a Death Eater. And then- and then what? Suddenly he’d die for one?”

“I’m not-”

“I know. I know. That’s not the point.”

“I brewed Monty’s potions. I think at least part of it was that.” 

“That’s another thing. Why… why would you do that?”

Regulus shrugs. He still doesn’t have a full answer to that. “I wanted… I wanted to do something good for once.”

“But why that?”

“Because James asked me to and I was in love with him.”

Sirius’s eyes harden and he scoffs. “Right.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What?”

“That’s it? All James has to do is ask for you to become a better person and suddenly you switch sides?”

“Well-”

“Do you know how many times I begged you to make a different choice? To support them a little less, to run away with me? And then- and then James just fucking asks , and you have a complete morality switch?”

Regulus blinks. Considers that. “He…” 

“I’m just saying.” Sirius says, voice tight. “If you could be good for him, why couldn’t you be good for me?”

“Well, I was romantically attracted to him, so-” Regulus tries for a smile, but Sirius just shakes his head and stands.

“Nevermind. I don’t know why I thought we could talk about this.” He sounds hurt, genuinely hurt, and Regulus's heart clenches.

“Hey,” he calls. “Wait.”

Sirius takes a deep breath but turns to face him again, arms crossed. “What.”

Regulus gathers his courage. Fights through his fear. There’s only so much time, he reminds himself. He meets Sirius’s gaze. “I hid the cuts on my arm so you wouldn’t feel guilty and leave. I helped the Dark Lord torture an innocent man because he would’ve hurt you if I didn’t go with him. I got the mark, I stayed in that house, because I knew if I followed you or showed any sign of disloyalty they’d come for us both. I-” Regulus’s voice cracks. “I cut out Saskia’s teeth because Maman said they’d kill you if I didn’t.” He has to stop for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

Sirius doesn’t say anything. The wind carries his hair, playing with the ends. 

Regulus swallows. “You’re- you’re right. He’s always made me a better person. He helped me be good. Helped me do good. But every horrible, terrible thing I’ve done? That was all for you, Sirius.”

His brother stares at him, eyes glinting in the afternoon light.

Regulus gives him a long look. “Everything you’ve hated me for I did in your name.” 

Sirius’s face cracks and he turns away, putting his back to Regulus. 

Neither of them speak for a long moment. Regulus can hear his heart beating, rapid fire in the still air. 

Sirius doesn’t move. Just keeps his arms crossed like a shield. “You think that makes it better?” His voice is quiet. “That all the blood on your hands had my name on it?” He lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Great. That’s so lovely, actually. Really fucking heartwarming.”

Regulus flinches. “Sirius.”

Sirius looks at him then, and there are tears in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for that,” he says, but it’s softer now. “I didn’t want that. I just-” He swallows. Shakes his head. “I just wanted my brother.”

“I did what I thought I had to.”

Sirius nods, ducks his chin, wipes his eyes. “Yeah. I know.” He takes a breath. “I just wish you didn’t.”

“So do I.”

“Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Regulus has to dig his fingernails into his palms. The spark of pain helps ground him, because it’s been so long since a conversation with Sirius hasn’t cut twice as deep as whatever he can do to himself. He’s not used to this. Whatever this is. Too late, his mind screams. Too late, too late, too late.  

He doesn't want to do this. 

Regulus chokes out a laugh, barely there. “Don’t mention it,” he mutters.

Sirius smiles, glancing down at the ground. A tear slips down his cheek. “I should’ve found you,” He manages. “When I came back to school. I should’ve asked you how you were doing.” He looks up, eyes glistening. “I haven’t- ah. I haven’t been a very good brother.” 

Regulus shrugs. “I’m the one that cut your chest open.”

“You were imperioed. I should’ve asked.”

Regulus tips his head in admission. “Maybe.”

“Who’s Saskia?”

“The Basilisk that lives under the school.”

“...Pardon?”

Regulus nods. He has a feeling he’ll be seeing her a lot sooner than he thought. “Maybe you’ll meet her.”

“You cut out her fangs?”

“How do you think we’ve been destroying the Horcruxes?”

“Well, I just…”

“Nevermind. You’ve never been observant a day in your life. I don’t know why I thought you’d start now.”

Sirius grins, scoffing. He wipes away the last of his tears. “Shut up.” 

“We should probably head back.” Regulus looks down at his feet, kicking a pebble as he stands from the bench.

Sirius nods, taking a deep breath. Regulus kindly ignores the way it shakes. “Fine. I’m taking the bike. Meet you there?”

Too much time wasted.

Not enough left. 

“I think I can stomach one more ride.” Regulus says, giving him a look. “If you crash, I'm killing you.”

“Hey, lots of people love the bike. James loves the bike.” But something in Sirius’s face glows brighter.

“He’s not exactly the pinnacle of rationality,” Regulus mutters, starting to walk. Sirius chuckles behind him, catching up.

“I’m not condoning that, by the way,” He says. “I am still strictly against everything to do with you two.”

“I don’t think that’s your call to make, unfortunately.”

“I don’t want you two together. You don’t have my blessing.”

Regulus snorts. “When have I ever needed your blessing?”

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m going to make out with James on the downstairs couch.”

“I think I’d have to kill you and then myself. Maybe take Remus with me.”

“Just wait till you hear what we’re going to do in your bed.”

“I hate you. I hate you so very much.”

Regulus tries to hide the smile on his face, following the path out of the park. “I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.”

---

 

Evan is at Barty’s side when Pandora calls on him, naturally. When is he not?

They’ve been at Rabastian’s for most of the day, Barty reading or sleeping or humming and Evan trying to memorize the way he breathes.
The knock comes towards midday, when the sun is past its peak and Evan has counted every single one of Barty’s eyelashes.

Barty looks up from where he’s sitting on the bed, exchanging a suspicious glance with Evan. “What?” He calls, leaning forward. 

“Someone’s here to see you.” Is Rabastian’s growled response. “Now.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Some bird with pretty white hair. Come get her off my porch. Don't do anything in the house.” 

Barty blinks at the door. Then his eyes widen and he jumps off the bed. He opens the door, following Rabastian down the hall. Evan trails after him, heart pounding. It couldn’t be-

“Pandora,” Barty calls, grinning as he opens the front door. 

Evan’s head spins, gratitude and excitement swelling inside him. She turns from where she’s standing on Rabastian’s stairs, eyes widening. “Barty!”

He shuts the door behind him, jogging forward and hugging her tightly. Evan is so glad to see her. He doesn’t even say anything, just takes her in. “Hey,” Barty says, smiling. “Why are you here? How?” His smile slips. “It isn’t safe, you know. Just showing up like this.”

“I wanted to see you. I visited Regulus, but I thought I should see you too.” 

“What did you tell Rabastian?”

“I said we were going to have sex.”

Evan chokes as Barty tips his head back and laughs. “Of course you did. Good thinking.” 

She smiles, looking him over. “How are you? I can’t stay long.”

“Yeah, obviously. It’s noon. How did you get here?”

“Walked, mostly. Apperated.”

“Not here,” Evan says quietly to Barty, and he nods. 

“Yeah, let's talk somewhere else.”

“Do you fancy a coffee?”

Barty looks confused, and Pandora laughs. “When was the last time you went to a Muggle cafe?”

“Uh-”

“Great. Let’s do it.”

Evan follows the two of them off the steps and down the street, keeping up on Barty’s side. He swears Pandora glances at him a few times, each sending a small thrill down his spine. “Are you going to tell her about me?” He asks Barty, staring straight ahead.

Barty just shrugs, and says nothing.

Evan takes that as a maybe. 

“How have you been?” Pandora asks, leading them into a small coffee shop and immediately getting in line. 

“Do you really want to know?”

Pandora turns, giving him a gentle look. “Of course I do. What with everything.”

“Everything?”

She studies him, eyes wide and imploring. “Regulus,” She says softly.

Barty glances sideways at Evan, who raises his brows. “Dead,” he says, as if to jog Barty’s memory. 

“Oh! Oh. Yeah. That- I-” Barty looks back to Pandora and then back to Evan, looking lost. The idiot.

“She can know,” Evan says. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

“Right. You sure?”

“Yeah. You look insane right now, by the way.”

Barty looks back to Pandora, who frowns and glances at Evan again. “What?”

“Regulus. He isn’t- I mean, he’s okay. I saw him the other day.”

Pandora’s eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. The people in front of them move but she stays put, staring at Barty. “He’s alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Well, I don’t know about fine, because he definitely looked a little worse for wear, but-”

“Barty,” Evan cuts in softly. “Give her a second.”

“How?” She asks after a moment. “What- what happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He ran away. Look, the line has moved.”

She takes a few steps, immediately turning around again. “I need to see him.”

Barty frowns slightly. “I’d hold off on that for a moment. Things are- things are about to change.”

“What does that mean?

“I can’t tell you.”

“Barty.”

“I’m sorry. You won’t like this.”

“You mean I won’t like what you have to do with it.”

Barty shrugs. “You know me, Dora. You know what side I chose.”

“Barty,” Evan groans. Barty barely looks at him.

“Fine.” Pandora presses her lips into a thin line. “You’re right. Let's not talk about this. But Reg, he’s alive? You’re- you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

“What can I get for you today?” The waitress behind the counter says, smiling at them. 

“Just a coffee for me, thanks.” Barty glances at Pandora. “She’ll take a tea.”

Pandora nods, hardly taking her eyes off Barty. “That’s so- I knew- well, I didn’t, but I felt something wasn’t right. Why hasn’t he reached out?”

“I imagine he’s a bit busy.” Barty looks at her. “I have no muggle money.”

“Is he with Dorcas?” Pandora puts a few bills down, stepping to the side. 

“Maybe.” Barty shrugs. “I couldn’t tell you really. It’s for the best that I don't know.” 

“And Evan? Where is he?”

Evan freezes, breath catching in his throat. Barty goes still next to him.

Neither of them speak. 

“Here’s your drinks, loves.” The waitress places them on the counter, turning and going back to her post.

“Barty,” Evan whispers.

Barty clears his throat. “In a field. I’ll show you sometime.”

She nods, studying him. Her eyes flick to Evan’s, standing silently next to him. Evan takes a step back in surprise. “Dora?” He breathes. 

“Is he?”

“Yeah.” Barty takes his coffee, hands the tea to Pandora. He meets Evan’s eyes and sighs, heavy and low, defeated. “Or at least his body is.”

Everything in Evan rejoices. “Finally,” he murmurs. 

“And the rest of him?” Pandora asks, leading them to a table.

“The rest of him is here with me.” 

Pandora’s eyes flick between them. She can’t see him, Evan decides, but knows he’s there. Or knows something is. “Here?”

“Now.”

“How?”

“Resurection stone.” 

She blinks. “How on earth did you get that?”

“Regulus.”

“Of course.” She looks back at Evan. “Can I-”

“No.” Barty cuts in, firm.

“Come on,” Evan hisses. Barty gives him a look. 

“No.” he repeats. “This is my compromise.”

“Can he hear me?” Pandora asks, voice slightly breathless.

“Yeah.”

“Evan,” she says, and then her eyes fill with tears, and she tips over on the table.

“Pandora,” Evan says, rushing forward and wishing he could touch her. “Barty, comfort her! What are you doing!”

“There there,” Barty mutters, placing an awkward hand on Pandora’s shoulder.

She gasps through her tears, ignoring the looks they’re getting from other customers. “Evan, finally, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Evan breathes. “Barty-”

“Yeah, yeah. He says he missed you too.”

“Oh,” She whispers, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Evan. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watching her. Feeling her. It’s so nice to have someone else who knows he isn’t gone. He hasn’t talked to anyone in a long time. 

“I should say, I- I love you. We all do. We’re always going to. You’re always with us, Evan.”

Evan can’t speak, tears springing to his eyes. He didn’t even know he could still cry. He thought he’d never feel anything strongly enough again. He shudders and looks down, staring at the ground. He can feel Barty’s gaze on him. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a few tears slip down his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Barty says softly next to him. “He loves you too.”

“Is he okay? Is he happy?”

Barty looks at her then, expression filled with something Evan can’t interpret. “He’s okay.”

“And happy?”

“And-” Barty looks back to Evan, who’s filled with an unexpected rush of fear at the prospect of being discovered.

“And happy,” Evan says, if only to get that nervous look off his face. Barty’s uncertainty melts into relief and he nods.

“And happy.” he tells Pandora. She smiles. 

“I know that’s a stupid question,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure he’s not miserable. For selfish reasons, I suppose.”

“No, I get it.” Barty nods, not looking at Evan. “I don’t want him to be miserable either.”

Evan thinks he would simply die if he hadn’t already. Pass away right here.

“And, Evan, another thing, I may have never agreed with the decisions you made, or supported you, really, but-” She takes a breath. “I never stopped caring about you .”

“Hey now,” Barty mutters. “We made a lot of the same decisions.”

Pandora shoots him a look. “And you know how I feel about those.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that.”

“Not with you, but I’m perfectly happy to converse with Evan.” 

“Ask her how things at Hogwarts are going,” Evan says.

Barty rolls his eyes. “Rosier wants to know how school is.”

“It’s good. Well. Everyone there is terrified, of course. The war is- but of course I don’t need to tell you this.”

“Tell her about the attack.”

“No.”

“Barty.”

“It’ll just freak her out.”

“She should be freaked out!”

“Look, I can’t-” Barty lets out a slow breath. “I can’t tell everyone, Ev. If he finds out I told Reg, I’ll be dead within a minute. And Pandora still goes there. She’s even less safe.”

“I can be safe,” Pandora cuts in, looking between them. It’s hard to remember she doesn’t see him. 

“Not with this, Dora. I’m sorry.”

“Barty,” She says slowly. “Is something happening?”

“Just- just stay here, okay? Don’t go back to Hogwarts. Not yet.” Barty looks guilty for even saying that much, but Evan knows he needs to tell her. He had to say something. He isn’t heartless, as much as everyone would like to believe.

“Thank you,” Evan whispers. Barty sends him a quick glance, flushing slightly at whatever he finds reflected in Evan’s gaze.

Pandora shifts. “Barty-”

“I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me if I do. But just- just wait a minute, okay? Go home, stay with your parents. Then you can go back. After.”

“After what?”

“Please, Pandora.” 

“I will. I will. But- but if something is going to happen, I have to be a part of it-”

“No you don’t. This isn’t something to be a part of.”

She looks to Evan again, who wishes he could reassure her. “I’m going to trust you,” she says slowly, “because we used to be friends, and I don't think you want to lose anyone else.”

Barty leans back in his chair, letting out a soft puff of air. “Okay. Okay, thank you.”

“Regulus is alive?” She asks again. “And not working for Voldemort?”

“Yeah, the git.” 

“I’m so proud of him,” she whispers, smiling. She stands from her chair, smiling. “If I’m staying here for a bit, I need to go see my parents. I’ll be back, though, so don’t think this is the last of me. That goes for you too, Evan, if you choose to stick around for a bit.”

Evan nods, remembers she can’t see, and looks to Barty pleadingly. Barty nods. “Evan’ll be here. As will I. Thank you for- thank you.”

She smiles, giving him one last complicated look. “I don’t agree with you,” she says eventually, “But I don’t want you to die. Please, please, be safe.”

He gives her a two fingered salute, and watches as she leaves the cafe. He turns back to Evan, sighing. “Well.”

“I think that went as well as it could’ve, considering.” Evan smiles at Barty. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For telling her I’m here. For letting me speak to her, even if it was just through you.”

Barty scoffs, looking away. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to have to hear you bitch about it for the next five hours.” 

“Thank you anyway.” Evan turns back to face the window, watching the sun begin its descent. It’s not sunset yet, just really late afternoon, and the light streams through the glass onto his face. He wishes he could feel its warmth. He closes his eyes.

All too soon he notices the press of a gaze on him and he blinks, turning to look at Barty, who’s staring at him, lips slightly parted. “What?” Evan asks.

“Nothing.”

“Barty.”

“Did I… I mean, did I ever tell you how…” Barty struggles with his words, gesturing vaguely at Evan’s face. It’s okay, though, because Evan knows what he means.

“No,” he says softly. “You didn’t.”

Barty blinks, taking him in. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat and looking down. “Maybe I should’ve.” 

And suddenly it’s like Evan can feel the sun again, seeping through him, warming every inch. He shivers in its heat, and for a second, he could swear his heart thumps back to life. “You can tell me now.”

Barty stares at him, and they sit like that for a minute, looking into each other's eyes. Evan thinks that the slight grey surrounding Barty’s pupil is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Nah,” Barty says after a moment, voice quiet. “You don’t need your ego to get any bigger. You already know.”

Evan smiles, a quiet satisfaction filling up the hole in his gut.

It’s almost enough to make this purgatory worth it. 

 

---

 

James looks up when the wards around Godric’s Hollow ripple, going to the door when a knock sounds. “Moody?”

Moody grumbles, stepping in. “I don’t know why I’ve been put in charge of wrangling the children, but I’ve been sent to get two of you.”

“Which ones?”

“Whoever volunteers. I’m going over to Cambridge, to help them lock down and disband, and I want two extra fighters with me.”

“I’ll go,” James says immediately.

“I won’t take the younger Black,” Moody growls. “He’s too volatile."

Regulus had been mildly frustrated when he and Sirius got home, but he mostly seemed vaguely ill from the ride back. James hadn’t asked him how he did talking to Moody. Maybe he should’ve.

“He has a right to be,” James settles on eventually.

“I’ll take the older one.”

“Sure. Sirius!”

Sirius turns the corner, already glaring, and James nods at Moody. “We have a mission. Lets go.”

“We’re calling them missions now?” Moody grumbles behind him.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” Sirius mutters. James rolls his eyes. 

“Get over yourself. We can deal with that later. We’re going to Cambridge.”

At that, Sirius’s eyes flash and he nods, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his wand. “Moony,” he calls up the stairs. “Me and James are going with Alastor to Cambridge. Tell Effie.”

Moony comes downstairs a moment later, followed shortly by Regulus, blinking at the two of them over Remus’s shoulder. “What?”

“We’ll be back,” James promises. “We’re just going to help secure whatever’s going on up there in case Voldemort stays true to his word.”

“Effie won’t like this,” Remus says cautiously.

“It’s fine,” Sirius says. “It’s for the Order.”

“Sooner rather than later would be nice,” Moody mumbles behind them.

“Fine, fine. We’re going. Let's do it.”

Moody holds the door open, glaring, and James and Sirius shuffle out. James tries to calm the swell of nerves that rises in his stomach. It’s fine, he tells himself. They’re just being used as extra precaution while they lock down the training facility. It’s not like they’ll see any actual combat. 

And besides, he’s being helpful, right?

 

---

 

Regulus watches James and Sirius go, frowning slightly. “Moody’s going to get them killed,” he mutters. Remus sighs.

“I hope there’s other trained Aurors there to help as well.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“So, after you and Sirius went to see Moody he talked to Dumbledore?”

Regulus shrugs. “I guess so. I thought-” He cuts himself off, the words dying on his tongue. There’s something foggy pressing behind his eyes, rotten and putrified. He’s lived with it long enough to know the feeling of Tom Riddle’s soul. The feeling consumes him and he stagers on the stairs, vision blinking in and out. 

The boy. He knows. At least the diadem is safe.

But-

The world zooms in and out, and reverses, and suddenly it’s Regulus's own memories playing in front of him. James, Sirius, Moody, standing at the threshold. The name Cambridge on their tongues, hope in their eyes. 

A kiss in a dimly lit room. Two hands touch.

Something worth living for, then. Ah. He won’t escape twice.

Cambridge isn’t too far. Why not get started?

It’s okay. After everything, he’ll join his father in the grave he dug for himself. 

Regulus’s eyes snap open just as Remus catches him around the shoulders and lowers him to the ground. Panic floods every sense, and he pushes through the clouds in his head to scramble forward, out from under Remus and towards the door. No, no, no-

He shoves it open, stumbling onto the front step. He looks up and down the street, desperate. Empty. 

Fuck.

Remus catches up to him a moment later, grabbing his arm. “Regulus, what the fuck-”

“James,” he gasps. “And Sirius. He knows. He knows where they’re going. He’s going to intercept them. He saw them leave through my eyes, he knows it's James, he- he’s going to- Remus-”

“What the fuck,” Remus says again, staring at him. “Who? Voldemort?”

“Who else,” Regulus spits.

“We can’t stop them. Moody’s with them. They’ll be fine. Why would he want to kill James specifically?"

“Not kill,” Regulus manages. “He’s going to use him.”

“For what?”

“To keep me alive.” 

“Why would you-”

Regulus cuts him off, spinning and going straight to his room, heart pounding in his chest. He has to delay him. Has to weaken him before he can get to James. He doesn’t care if it triggers the end, if it sets Voldemort’s armies marching, he has no choice. James comes first.

Always. 

He pulls the Diadem from under his bed, vaguely aware of Remus’s presence behind him. He grabs the satchel, pulls out the last fang. He pointedly doesn’t let his gaze linger on the final vial of venom lying at the bottom. He slips it into his pocket anyway.

“Wake me up,” Regulus mutters to Remus. “As soon as you can.”

“What?”

And then Regulus plunges the fang down, pushing it through the metal, watching as inky black smoke pours from the silver and feeling every inch of him revolt at the feeling. The pain comes back, just as strong as before, just as intense, and he barely has time to slump over before his eyes roll back.

The last thing he feels is Remus catching him before he hits the ground. 

---

 

Tom seethes, knees giving out and sending him to the ground as wave after wave of agony washes through him.

He thought-

He’d been foolish. He’d been naive.

He won’t underestimate Black again.

He must’ve had it, then, for a while. Because Tom knows what triggered this- he too felt that flash of connection, saw those memories. Black must’ve caught on to his plan, and destroyed the diadem to slow him down. 

For the first time in a long time, a rush of genuine fear threatens to drown him. 

That was the last one.

Well, the last one he can protect. 

He made a grave mistake. 

As soon as he regains his footing, as soon as he can stand on his own and his vision comes back, he’ll find the boy. He saw him in Black’s mind, saw the disgusting, unnatural feelings he carries for the idiot. His plan is good then, if just the thought of it drove Black to such heights to delay him. 

Horrid.

Disgusting. 

Vile. 

But, it’s his soul inside the boy, and so, by that logic, the boy is his too.

All his.

To keep alive, to imprison, to hurt, but never kill. 

“Bella,” He rasps, vaguely aware of her hands on his shoulders. “Tell them the time has come to end the world.”

---

 

Creatures pouring from the woods, gathering at the tree line, waiting for the word.

A silent rumbling through his followers, a mark stirring to life. 

And in the dungeons of the castle, a door creaks open, and shadowy figures creep through. 

Regulus startles awake with a gasp, rolling over and gagging into his hand. His head spins. All he knows is panic. 

Remus, sitting in an armchair and staring at him, jumps to his feet and rushes towards him. Regulus pushes himself up on the couch, leaning against the back cushions and meeting the other boy’s eyes hesitantly. 

“We have to get to Hogwarts,” He rasps. “I’ve only delayed him for a bit.”

Remus shakes his head, opening and closing his mouth. “Effie,” He forces out.

“We can't wait for her. She’ll know soon enough, I’m sure. We have to go.”

He starts to get off the couch, but Remus grabs his arm and forces him back down. “No,” he says harshly. “Wait. I won’t go anywhere till you explain , Regulus. And,” he adds, “you look like you’ll pass out again if you stand up right now.”

Regulus lets out a harsh breath, sitting back. “He’s going to attack the castle,” He says carefully. 

“I thought you said he was going to Cambridge.”

“He- He is. I don’t understand- I don’t know what his plan is. I know the castle isn’t safe. I think they’re inside.”

“How? So soon? I thought-”

“Me too." 

Always, always, always too soon. Dread gathers within him, and Regulus wraps his arms around his middle. He isn't ready for this.

He thought he had more time. 

“But how- the wards-” 

“I don’t know. That’s why we have to go there.”

“A minute ago you wanted to go after James and Sirius.”

Regulus shakes his head. “I do. I did. But if he’s going after the castle, then…”

“Okay. We can find a way to Hogwarts, and then find someone to send a patronos to Moody, James and Sirius. They can come meet us there, hopefully before Voldemort gets to Cambridge.”

Regulus nods, trying to calm his nerves. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Regulus?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck just happened?”

Regulus blinks at him, a small pit of dread growing in his stomach. Fuck. He doesn't want to talk about this. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-” Remus gestures wildly. “Whatever happened on the stairs, realizing Voldemort was going to Cambridge, destroying the horcrux and passing out, and then waking up and knowing exactly what’s happening somewhere else.”

Regulus opens his mouth, closes it. "I can't say."

“I think,” Remus says softly, staring at him. “I think I know. And we don’t have to talk about it right now, but…”

Regulus searches his face. "“I’ll do whatever I have to,” he murmurs. He means it. 

Remus frowns, eyes clouded but determined. “I’ll help.” 

Regulus doesn’t smile, but he does nod, and Remus offers him a grim expression and a hand off the couch. 

 

---

 

The base at Cambridge, it seems, is already preparing. Word travels quickly when everyone’s about to die, apparently.

They land in an empty street, hands still glued to the portkey Moody brought with him. James takes a step back, glancing around nervously. The silence scares him.

“We won't actually be fighting, right?” Sirius asks quietly. Moody barely spares him a glance.

“Who knows. You chickening out on me, boy? I thought you wanted to join the order.”

“I do. I’m not nervous.” Sirius says firmly, pulling his shoulders back. James stares at him, at the flutter of his lashes, and knows he’s lying. He says nothing.

Moody leads them to an unassuming door and raps, casting some sort of spell that seeps through the keyhole. 

The door opens, a wizened old man standing on the other side. “Alastor,” he says gruffly, and ushers them in. 

They follow him down the hall and into a staircase, descending to a lower level. It’s some sort of bunker, with youths lined up in Auror uniforms sitting on beds or leaning against walls. They look up when the three of them enter, eyes sharpening.

“This is Alastor Moody,” The old man says. “He’s brought some of the Order to help reinforce this place against any potential threats.”

Moody’s magical eye sweeps the room. James shifts uncomfortably- too many eyes on him, too many faces in shadows.

“You’ve done well to keep them together,” Moody says curtly. “Any trouble?”

“Nothing but rumors.” The old man sniffs. “Scuffles in nearby villages, wards tugged once or twice. False alarms.”

Moody grunts, but James catches the briefest flicker of unease cross his scarred face. Sirius notices too.

“False alarms, or something testing the perimeter?” Sirius asks.

The old man shrugs, a little too quickly. “If they wanted to breach, they’d have done it by now.”

That earns him a hard glare from Moody. He turns to James and Sirius. “We split up. I’ll check the wards. You two—make yourselves useful. Talk to the trainees. Keep your wands in your hands.”

James nods, glancing at Sirius. “Stay together?” He knows they’re fighting right now, but he doesn’t want to separate. Not here. 

Sirius, luckily, seems to be on the same page, because he nods and shifts minutely closer to James.

“That’s not going to work,” The old man says gruffly as Moody walks off. “You,” he starts, pointing at Sirius, “go check the escape tunnel. Make sure it’s secured, make sure it’s hidden, make sure we aren’t about to get ambushed in our own bloody burrow.” He turns to James- “and you, take names. If one doesn’t fit against this list, find me. I won't trust anyone I don't have to.” 

Sirius and James exchange an uneasy look but both nod, heading off in separate directions. Sirius disappears down a hallway in the back and James takes the parchment held out to him.

The trainees go back to their idle chatter as James makes his rounds, asking them to just check off their names.

“How much do you get paid for this?” One of them asks him. He blinks back.

“Uh- this is definitely volunteer work.”

The boy looks surprised. “Oh. That’s- noble.”

“Yeah, sure.” James says, feeling a small thrum of pride shoot through him. It’s good to be doing something, be active for once, instead of sitting in his house and waiting for news to come to him.

“Your name?”

The boy tells him and James moves on, further down the line. He wonders where Sirius is. Or Moody. Or anyone he knows. 

They’re probably fine.

“Why is the Order here?” another one asks him. 

“Just to add some extra help. Moody’s a powerful wizard.”

The trainee pretends to scoff but James can see the secret relief in his eyes. Smart. 

He hopes Regulus is okay. 

Of course he is, he reminds himself, handing the parchment to the next person and then taking it back when they’re done. He’s just sitting at home with Remus. He’ll see him soon enough. 

The next person takes the parchment from James’s hands and he looks up, about to hand them the quill, when everything just… stops. 

James’s heart freezes in his chest.

He knows the face that’s watching him, less than a foot away.

He’s only seen it once before, but that was enough.

It’s the Death Eater that was staring at him when he was captured after the beach, standing on the Black’s living room carpet. He has the same rough blond hair, same piercing eyes. 

And now he’s here. 

When he sees the recognition in James’s eyes his face splits into a nasty grin and he leans ever so slightly closer. “Boo,” he breathes.

James jumps back, reaching for his wand.

“We were waiting for you, and now you’re here! These idiots didn’t even notice I wasn’t one of them. Now the fun can start!” The man pulls out his wand, ignoring the surprised cries from nearby trainees as he sends a curse at James. James deflects it, a shout caught in his throat, stumbling backwards. There’s a rumble above him, dust raining from the ceiling as the wards tremble.

The man shoots another curse, moving forward. “He’s going to be so happy I found you,” The man croons, lifting his wand again. Everything's happening so quickly. How the fuck did they get through the wards? Unless-

"Sandy?" A trainee asks, horrified, staring at the man currently attacking James. 

-Unless he'd been undercover for a while and just now let the rest of them through, with the ward access he gained. 

The trainees spring into action, half of them raising their wands against the main Death Eater, the other half splitting into two. Some of them rush at the door, bracing it against the pounding on the other side. The rest call out commands James doesn’t know and take off down the back hallway. 

James raises his wand, pushing through his fear and dueling the man opposing him. Black swelling figures appear in the corners of his vision and he whirls in a circle, trying to fight them off all at once. If he was still in school, he would never be able to keep up. He thanks the gods that Moody was such a hardass about training.

Sirius, he thinks. He needs to get to him. Plus, here, he’s surrounded. He may be able to keep up now, but a little longer and he doesn’t stand a chance.

The door slams open and at least four more people clad in black stream in. The trainees jump into combat, and James barely has time to dodge the spell lobbed at him. 

He ducks under it and turns, running for the hall and the end. There are enough trainees to fight here- but there’s no one down there. He has to go help.

“Don’t run!” the Death Eater calls behind him. “He’ll be so sad!”

James disappears into the dark, looking around desperately. “Sirius!” 

There are a few hallways, splitting off into different training rooms. He chooses one at random and runs down it, looking for his friend but just getting farther into the darkness. He sees something in the black and has the good sense to turn at the last minute, slamming into the wall with his shoulder instead of his face. He stumbles back, cursing. Dead end. 

He spins around, ready to run back, and- 

Freezes. 

“There you are, Mr. Potter.” Voldemort says. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Time stands still.  

This is it.

James can’t fight him. 

Can’t even begin to.

He knows that, knows how stupid this is, knows he’s about to die.

Everything in him trembles. 

But he’s not a fucking coward, and if he dies, he’s going to die with his wand in his hand. 

Sorry, Reg.

He lifts his wand, shifting into a fighting stance. He stares Voldemort down, meeting his snake eyes with as much determination as he can muster.

“Oh, I forgot,” Voldemort mutters, rolling his eyes. “Gryffindors.” 

How is he here? Why? 

“The rest of the Order will be here soon.” James says, lying through his teeth but lifting his chin anyway. “You don’t stand a chance. Dumbledore will kill you.”

“We both know that’s not true, Mr. Potter.” Voldemort takes another step closer, and it takes everything in James not to flinch back. The man isn’t too much taller but it seems like he’s towering over him, pushing him further against the dead end. He looks him up and down, and his gaze makes James shiver. Voldemort’s mouth twists in distaste. “You know, I have no idea why I ever thought I could trust someone who lets a blood traitorous oaf like you fuck him. He always was weak, I suppose. I just didn’t think he was a queer too.” 

James can’t even speak through his fury. 

“That’s right,” Voldemort says encouragingly. “I saw you in his head. It was so long ago, when I still needed him on my team, so I didn’t do anything. Now, however…”

“Back up.” 

Voldemort continues. “And anyway, I’m not here to exterminate you. We won’t be staying much longer.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” James growls, and casts the first curse. It’s neon red, sharp and fast, but Voldemort deflects it instantly with barely any effort. 

He shoots another, and another, each one barely hitting their target. Finally, Voldemort gets fed up. “Enough,” he hisses, and flicks his wand.

James crumples instantly.

Pain.

All he knows, all he’ll ever know.

He curls over himself on his knees, shattering under the weight of the agony. 

He can’t see, can’t think, can only tremble and cry out.

It hurts. 

Then it fades and he shudders, gasping for the breath that was pushed out of him. He forces his head up, shaking. From his spot on the ground he can see down the hall.

And what he sees terrifies him. 

It’s Sirius, rounding the corner and eyes lighting on James.

His eyes go wide. 

“James!” He shouts, starting to run.

James wants to tell him to go, wants to block the hall, but can’t move. Can’t force any sound off his lips. He thinks he’s going to be sick. 

Voldemort whirls around above him, grinning. “Ah, Mr. Black! I’ve been meaning to have a word with your brother. Unfortunately for all of us, you’re not him.”
He flicks his wand again and James sees it, sees the shooting neon green light, and his chest caves in on itself. 

Right before the spell finds its target in Sirius’s chest, it bounces off an invisible shield. “Run,” Moody growls, stepping out from behind him.

“No, James-”

“You can’t do anything,” Moody says, and then there’s no more time to talk. 

Him and Voldemort start exchanging curses at such an astonishing rate that James can hardly keep up, slumped against the back wall as he is. The hall becomes a blur of green and red.

He feels useless.

He probably is. He’s never been anything else.

Sirius pushes forward, adding a spell to the mix when he can, but he keeps getting forced back with the power of the two wizards. 

James lifts his wand, pointing it at Voldemort’s back, ignoring the way his hand trembles. There’s a spell on his lips, and he isn’t sure what it is but he opens his mouth anyway, ready to let it fly, when-

“My lord!” A voice cries out, and another Death Eater rounds the corner, instantly jumping into the fray and shooting curses at Sirius. There’s blood on his face. 

“Run,” Moody snaps again to Sirius, who shakes his head, and attacks the Death Eater right on back. Screams ring out from down the hall behind him. 

James sees Moody turn, sees him realize they have to get out of this tunnel and back down to the others. James agrees. He pushes himself fully up on his knees, raising his wand again. Maybe he can buy them time.

Sirius gets hit by a curse from the new Death Eater and cries out, stumbling backwards and landing hard on the ground. The Death Eater stalks forward, hovering over him. Moody’s magical eye spins around to see, and his face hardens as he blocks another of Voldemort’s spells.

James shoots a curse at Voldemort’s back, but it’s so weak that it barely touches him. His energy is waning, the Crucio having sapped everything he had. Voldemort whirls around and grabs his arm, yanking him from the ground and holding him upright. James cries out, fights with everything he has, each inch of him trembling with adrenaline.

Voldemort shoots another Crucio through him and the world goes dark again. 

He can’t stand this.

He wants Voldemort to kill him.

He thinks it’d be preferable. 

“James!” Someone is yelling, but he can’t see them. Even after the Crucio runs its course he’s left numb, slumped into the Dark Lord. 

Moody’s eyes lock on to his, wand a constant blur of motion. There’s blood on his face. He can’t win this fight.

“Go,” James whispers, no sound in his throat. Only blood. 

He’s here for me, he thinks distantly. If I can occupy him, then they can leave.

He wants me alive.

Well, tough luck.

Sirius sees the look on his face and runs, ducking under the Death Eater’s arm and sprinting straight towards James.

James raises his wand, pressing it against his temple. “A-”

“No,” Voldemort growls, and the wand is knocked from his hand. Moody uses the distraction to send a bright orange spell at the ceiling, sending rubble tumbling down in front of them.

The sound is large, huge, echoing through the space. The pain finally seeps out of James’s body and he locks eyes with Sirius, panicked and scared, getting thrown back by Moody. Then the rubble piles down, blocking them, just as Voldemort raises a shield charm around himself and James. “I wouldn’t worry,” he hisses in James’s ear. “You’ll see them at school.”

And then another agonizing bolt of pain rushes through him, and the world fades to black.

Notes:

heyyyy gang 😀 did you miss me
sorry about that I moved lol oops!
alsooo as a note the Voldemort in my story, while still terrible, isn't as powerful as the original series. He hasn't gotten all the horcruxes yet, or been killed and reborn, so he's kind of just a really powerful dark wizard but also still a guy (aside from the immortality and all)
the next one should be relatively quick, and then there's one more wrapping things up after that and... we're done!! yay!!
expect a lot of moonwater next chapter (my fav duo) they amaze me constantly I love them
...thoughts?

Chapter 68: The Castle, Part One

In the quiet of the evening, Hogsmeade seems deathly still. Remus shivers in the chill, looking around him carefully. He doesn’t trust the silence.

“Where?” Regulus asks softly next to him. Remus glances down at him.

“Just through here,” He murmurs, leading them to the door of Honeydukes. “Assuming the passage is still open.” 

It is, fortunately, hidden under a trap door in the basement. Regulus looks around, wrinkling his nose. “This is…”

“Helpful.” Remus finishes for him, dropping into the passage and beckoning for Regulus to follow him. He does, muttering about meddling Gryffindors the entire time. They pop out by a statue of a one-eyed witch, stumbling into the hallway. Regulus turns, giving the passage behind them a long look. “I don’t trust that.”

“Explain.” 

“If we can find it, why can’t the Death Eaters?”

“Oh.” Remus frowns, turning and looking around the hall. “I think the only reason we were able to get through it was because no one knows about it. If the Death Eaters…”

Regulus nods slowly. “Well, there are wards, right? Surely they couldn't have just… gotten in.”

“Probably not. We should find Dumbledore.”

They start off down the hall, something itching underneath Remus’s skin. It’s quiet. Where are all the students?

“Where is everyone?” Remus asks softly.

Regulus looks around. “Lockdown, probably. Or the Great Hall.” he shifts, a complicated expression on his face as they walk, and Remus has to stop. He grabs his arm.

“Regulus.”

“What?”

“If you are- I mean- are you sure you are what you think you are?”

Regulus’s eyes cloud, something fuzzy hiding behind his expression. “So eloquent,” he mutters. Then sighs. “I- yeah. I’m sure.”

“You’re a horcrux?”

Regulus keeps his face neutral, cool. He stares at Remus until he nods.

“Does James know?”

Regulus says nothing.

“Does Sirius?”

Regulus looks down, and Remus’s heart squeezes. “Who does?” he breathes. 

“You."

“What are you gonna do?”

Regulus’s expression doesn’t change, hardened and resolute. He looks up then, eyes catching Remus’s and holding there. 

“No.”

“I said I would do whatever I had to. You said you’d help.”

“No. Not- not that. I meant I’d help you get rid of it, get it out of you, not like-”

“If I die, we will win this war. If I don’t, we don’t. If you had to choose, Remus, if you had to choose, which would you prefer? Am I worth the end of the world?”

Remus stares at him, emotions bubbling and turning over in his stomach. He knows the answer. “No,” he says. “You aren’t.”

Regulus doesn’t look offended, doesn’t look sad, just looks determined. “I knew you’d understand. This is good, that you’re the one with me.”

“I won’t help you kill yourself. I won’t.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They keep walking.

They round the corner, coming up short when a spell shoots out from somewhere in front of them. It’s Professor Flitwick, barreling forward with his wand raised. He sees them and freezes, eyes widening.

Remus and Regulus stare right on back, both confused.

“Oh! I-” Flitwick starts. His eyes dart between them, lingering on Regulus. “You- I was just on patrol- you- Mr. Black-”

“Yes?”

“You’re alive? We were told- I thought you were-”

“Here I am.”

“You’re not with the Dark Lord? Do I need to-”

The Dark Lord? Remus thinks to himself. “He’s with us, Professor. Don’t worry. Where is everyone?”

“We started patrol as soon as Dumbledore got the word the castle was going to be attacked. The children still went to classes for a bit, but then the army started gathering at the edge of the forest and we sent them to lockdown.”

“The army- Voldemort’s army is at the forest?” Icy fear drips down Remus’s back. “Really?”

“Just- just some creatures, mostly. Werewolves.”

Remus takes a step back. 

Then another. 

Werewolves. 

Could- could he be- 

“And the Death Eaters?” Regulus cuts in. Flitwick’s eyes snap back to him, genuine fear in his expression. 

“Not here yet,” he squeaks.

“Okay- where’s Dumbledore?”

“I- I don’t know.”

Regulus takes a few steps closer, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know?”

“Where’s everyone else then?” Remus interrupts before Flitwick can respond.

“They- outside. Mostly. The kids are in here, and the teachers are patrolling just in case.”

“Okay.” Remus nods his thanks. “Regulus- let’s go.” 

Regulus gives Flitwick another harsh look and pushes forward down the hall. Remus sighs and turns back to him. “It’s good to see you again, Professor.”

Flitwick blinks. “Oh, you too, Mr…” He stares at him, evidently at a loss. 

“Lupin,” Remus finishes for him, and then starts off after Regulus. He catches up with him, glancing over his shoulder. 

“It’s weird seeing the school like this,” he mutters. “Empty. Prepared.”

Regulus nods, rounding another corner. “We should find Dumbledore.” 

“Well, I’m sure they’ll know where he is.” Remus says, coming to a stop in the doorway to the entrance hall.

Regulus stills next to him, and they spend a few seconds taking in the scene in front of them. 

One of the main doors to the castle has been propped open so people can come and go, though most of them have gathered in the courtyard outside. Most of them shift nervously from foot to foot, talking in low tones. Remus sees Dorcas and Marlene towards one end, talking to Kingsley with their heads ducked, faces serious. 

“Interesting,” Regulus mutters, nodding straight ahead. Remus follows his gaze. 

Around the castle a dome shimmers, magical and blinding, a physical ward. Remus sucks in a breath. He’s never seen anything like it.

Inside the dome, teachers and members of the Order have gathered in clumps. There are Aurors interspersed, though not as many as Remus thought there’d be. Shouldn’t their priority be protecting the castle? Where are they?

Remus and Regulus jog down the stairs to the courtyard, pushing through the gathering masses to the edge of the wards. “They did all this?” Remus whispers.

“I’m guessing it went up the second Snape gave Dumbledore the warning.” Regulus responds quietly. 

“Good, I guess.” Remus looks around. “Where’s James and Sirius?” 

Regulus’s brows pinch and he shifts on his feet. “I don’t know. I assumed Moody would get some kind of word and then bring them here instead.”

“We should talk to someone.”

“Yeah, like Dumbledo-”

“Remus!”

Remus knows that voice. He turns, grinning and taking a few steps. “Lily.”

She hugs him tight, taking a deep breath before pulling back. “I’m so glad you're here.”

“Is everything- has anything happened yet? When did you get here? When did the ward go up? What’s going on?”

“Snape delivered the message to Dumbledore and he immediately started preparing, but they didn’t go into lockdown until they heard about the attack.” 

“But they haven’t attacked yet?”

Lily furrows her brows. “Not here. Cambridge.” 

Regulus goes stiff just as Remus makes a choked little sound, backing up. “...Cambridge?”

“Yeah. Did you not hear? Voldemort and some Death Eaters attacked Cambridge. There was an Auror training facility there.”

“Where- is it over? What happened? Is everyone okay there?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t heard.”

Remus turns to look at Regulus, finding the same fear reflected in the other boy’s expression. “We have to-”

“Shit.” Lily interrupts, taking a step closer to the ward dome. “They’re getting closer.”

“Who?” Remus turns to look out. “Oh. Fuck.”

Down across the green, behind the lake and along the edge of the forest, figures are pooling in the dusk. Some tall, some really tall, some human shaped, gathering and pressing closer.

“How long have they been here?” Remus mutters.

“Basically as soon as Voldemort attacked Cambridge, he sent the rest of his army here. That's when the wards went up.”

“Who-

“Dumbledore put them up initially, but he’s turning it over to the teachers if Voldemort arrives, because they’ll have more power as a collective.”

Regulus looks at Remus, eyes intense. “James.”

“I know.”

“Remus, I can’t-”

“He’s fine. He’ll be fine.”

“James?” Lily’s lips part. “What’s wrong with James?”

“I have to find him.” Regulus takes a few steps forward, wand held tight in one hand. Remus isn’t sure who he’s planning to fight. The whole world, probably. 

“Regulus- just- take a breath. We need to decide what to do here before we-”

“ATTENTION, ALL. AURORS SHOULD BE ORGANIZING THEMSELVES AT THE EDGE OF THE WARD.” It’s Dumbledore’s voice, magnified and spread through the entire courtyard. It’s the same as the lockdown announcements, and for a minute it brings Remus back. “THE PROFESSORS OUTDOORS SHOULD BE PREPARING TO TAKE OVER THE WARDS, AND THOSE INDOORS SHOULD BEGIN EVACUATING STUDENTS OUT THE DUNGEON PASSAGEWAYS.”

“My dream,” Regulus mutters. “In my dream, they came in through the dungeon.” 

Remus glances at him, afraid to let him out of his sight. Now that he knows his plan- or, at least, whatever he’s hinted at- he knows he needs to stick close. He hopes at least that Regulus has the sense to be strategic about his timing, but you could never tell with him. 

He’s volatile right now, and Remus doesn’t trust him one bit. 

“Your dream?” Lily asks. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We shouldn’t- we should check to make sure it's safe,” Regulus says. “Before we send the kids out.”

“I don’t know if we have time for that,” Lily says darkly, pointing.

The army at the forest is rapidly approaching, pushing forward, climbing and clambering over the hills. Remus can see a few wolves among them. He pulls out his wand.

“The wards will stop them,” he whispers, looking around at the crowd and the professors interspersed throughout. “Shouldn’t they be- I don’t know, getting ready?”

“THE WARDS WILL BE SWITCHING MOMENTARILY.”

“Why aren’t they…” Lily trails off. The professors look through the crowd at each other, Professor McGonagal frowning slightly. Slughorn shifts nervously. 

There’s no time for this, Remus thinks. They should be ready.

Something is wrong. 

“Come on,” Regulus mutters.

Suddenly there’s a pop in the center of the crowd, an apparition, and surprised gasps go up.

The three of them push through people, coming to a stop in the middle. Moody, face streaked with blood and dust, stands in the center. He’s got his wand in one hand, and Sirius’s arm in the other.

They’re both breathing heavily. 

A rush of relief shudders through Remus and he darts through the crowd, pulling Sirius from Moody and scanning him for injuries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Moody gives them one last harsh look and then turns, bodying his way through the crowd, evidently to find someone important.

Sirius stumbles, looking around wildly as he gets his bearings. “They- they attacked-”

“Are you hurt, Sirius?”

“No. No.”

Remus lets out a breath, taking him in. He’s safe. He’s here. He’s fine. But-

“Sirius,” Regulus says, low and cold from behind him. “Where the fuck is James?”

 

—

 

The look Sirius gives him makes Regulus’s stomach drop. He takes a step back.

Sirius runs a hand over his face. “Voldemort. He- he got him.”

Lily makes a horrible choked sound next to him, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Regulus shakes his head. No. That’s not what happened. Not a chance. 

“Explain.”

“He’s captured. Voldemort fucking took him, right in front of me.”

Alive, then. Not that Regulus would ever allow him to be anything else. “Where.”

“I don’t know. He just- the rubble came down, and I couldn’t see him. I don’t know.”

“Was he hurt?”

Sirius’s eyes darken. He takes in a choked gasp, opens his mouth to say something, closes it. He nods.

Rage fills every inch of Regulus’s body.

“How?” Remus cuts in.

“THREE SECONDS TILL WARDS CHANGE. PROFESSORS LIFT YOUR WANDS.”

A little ways off, Professor Sinistra brings her arm up, wand pointed towards the sky. No one else does the same. Professor Sprout crosses her arms. 

“ONE.”

“Wait,” Lily whispers. “Wait, they aren’t-”

“TWO.”

No one moves. Remus reaches for his wand. 

“NOW.”

The wards come crashing down around them, gone in the blink of an eye. A stream of silver magic pours from Sinistra’s wand, but it's the only one.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sirius hisses.

The wards haven’t gone up, and the army is closing in. Close enough Regulus can see their faces. See their pupils. He tightens his grip around his wand. 

Cries of alarm start to go up from the crowd. The teachers are the only ones capable of sending up the wards, the binding authority of the castle enhancing their magic. And at the moment, they’re not doing shit. 

“Professor McGonagall!” Sirius shouts, pushing through the crowd and grabbing her arm. “What are you doing? Send up the wards!”

She turns to him, eyes glinting in an unfamiliar way. Something starts to piece itself together in Regulus’s mind. “Sirius-”

“Mr. Black,” she says lowly. “You should’ve died with your brother.”

Regulus sees his brother’s eyes go wide as he 1zadjusts to her tone, her words, and he looks behind him then back at her.

Screams go up as the monsters cross the threshold.

“Minerva-” Sirius says. He reaches for her arm.

“Sirius!” Regulus shouts, but it’s too late. McGonagal brings her wand down, a bright yellow spell hitting his brother in the chest and sending him flying back.

Voldemort’s army piles into the crowd. 

The war has started. 

Lily yanks Sirius off the ground and Regulus shoots a curse at McGonagall, backing up towards the others. There are growls in the air, shouting, spells, and he can hardly tell left from right. His only thought: he needs to get to James.

“The teachers-” Remus says, catching his attention. “In the school, Flitwick didn’t know my name. He knew yours though, and seemed far too surprised to see you. And the ones out here- they didn’t put up the wards. They let them in.”

Regulus meets his gaze, watches him piece it together at about the same time he does. “We need to get inside the castle.”

“Why?” Sirius cuts in. 

“Because we just locked the students in there with a bunch of Death Eaters.”

“The fight- the army is here-”

“And the students are inside.”

So is Voldemort, Regulus thinks. If he’s here, if he’ll be here, that’s where he’s going to go. Which means James will be there too. 

He has to find him, and get him out of there.

And then as soon as he’s safe, he has to-

He has to-

He sucks in a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Be brave, Regulus. Be brave. 

“The professors,” Lily realizes, catching up. “They’re not... what? Real?”

“I need to go in,” Regulus says, and then starts pushing through the fight. A spell shoots towards him and he barely has the time to raise his wand and cast a shield charm, shifting to the side.

“Why would Voldemort want James?” Sirius asks, grabbing his elbow and ducking through people next to him.

“Because he knows as long as he has him I won’t kill myself.” 

 Sirius’s grip tightens on his elbow. “You were going to-”

“Well, not now that he has him.” He shakes him off and presses forward, forced to stop when Slughorn jumps in front of him. 

The old man is more spry than Regulus has ever seen him, eyes glinting as he raises his wand. “Our little Potioner,” he growls. “You didn’t make these ones, did you?”

These ones? 

Sirius raises his wand. “Polyjuice, then? Is that it? Who are you? Where are the professors?”

Slughorn grins. “I guess you’ll never know.” And then he’s shooting curses, wand flicking, and Regulus throws himself to the side to dodge as Sirius engages him in combat. Lily catches up to him and they keep forward towards the door. Above them in the sky the shimmery ward starts to reform, no doubt Dumbledore’s doing. It’s far too late. The monsters are already inside, and they have been for a while. 

“Where’s Dorcas?” Regulus asks Lily as they run.

“Farther to the left, with Marlene. Fighting.”

“Okay. But she’s here?”

“Yeah. Came with me as soon as we were summoned. I- fuck.” She freezes, stopping in place. She grabs Regulus's shoulder, and points up. Above the new silvery dome rapidly forming, the dark mark coils high in the sky. It’s ugly and chilling, sending Regulus’s stomach curdling with dread. 

Regulus shakes his head and the two of them start forward again, up the stairs and through the doors. Remus long ago stopped to help Sirius. “The real professors are somewhere,” Regulus tells her. “They have to be.” The inside of the castle is quiet around them.

“How did they make the switch, though?”

“Maybe the dungeons. My dream- maybe that wasn’t a plan, but a memory. They came in through the basement, overpowered the teachers, and used their hair or something to activate the polyjuice. They’ve been waiting in disguise to lower the wards and let his army through.”

“We need to find the professors,” Lily says, shaking her head.

Regulus glances at her. “I need to find James.”

“I know.”

Remus and Sirius catch up to them, breathing a little labored but otherwise unharmed. “It’s a shit show out there,” Sirius hisses. “And they’re only getting closer to the castle.”

“Where is-”

Remus keeps talking, but Regulus’s heartbeat drowns him out. There’s a twisting feeling in his gut, under his skin, and he slowly reaches over to slide his sleeve up.

The mark coils on his forearm, snake undulating through the skull. 

Fuck. 

He’s here. 

He’s in the castle.

He has to be. 

Which means…

I have a little treat for you, a voice whispers, surrounding them and filling the air with its hiss. Parseltounge, but not Saskia’s. That doesn’t mean it’s unfamiliar- he knows it well. You might want to come find me. 

“What the fuck is that sound?” Remus asks, lifting his wand.

“Parseltounge,” Lily answers, looking around. “Where is it coming from?”

“Reg,” Sirius says softly. “What does it mean?”

“He has James,” Regulus says. “He has James and he wants us to find him.”

We’ll have a little conversation, and then visit our wonderful friend.  

Realization crashes over him, and he curses himself. How could he be so stupid?

“I’m such an idiot. The Basilisk- that’s the weapon he’s going to unleash. To kill the muggle borns. She’ll do it, too.”

“Basilisk?” Someone asks, but everyone’s immediately distracted by the clicking of hundreds of doors unlocking.

“No,” Remus whispers as the rooms all down the hall open and kids start pouring out. “No, no, wait-”

That’s when the screams start. 

The four of them immediately take off down the hall towards the noise, wands raised. “Go back inside!” Sirius shouts, shoving through students. 

“There are professors on patrol!” Remus rasps as they run. Students are piling out of every classroom now, filling the halls. “They’ll-”

“What’s going on?” A girl cries, and Regulus doesn't have the energy to look at her, running towards the commotion at the end of the corridor. It’s the Great Hall, he realizes. That’s where the screams are coming from. 

“How are the doors open?”

“Peter fucking Pettigrew,” Sirius spits. 

“I thought they changed the spell!”

“How did he get inside the castle?” Regulus grits. 

“One of the “professors” must’ve let him in.” 

They skid to a stop in the doorway to the Great Hall, and Regulus’s heart drops into his stomach, a tight fist slowly squeezing the life out of it. 

Students, instinctually having pilled into the room they’d previously been told was the safe haven, have crowded against the wall. A mix of Death Eaters in dark robes and those disguised as professors are pushing them back, wands out, taunting. Some kids have been injured, but most unharmed and terrified. Regulus wonders what the students think about their own professors attacking them. The Death Eaters aren’t fighting, really, just keeping them back against the wall as they jeer at them from the middle. 

And behind them… Avery, Rodolphos, Lucius, Jugson, Wilkes, and Barty Crouch Jr stand around three figures in the center of the circle.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Remus whispers to himself. 

James looks half dead, slumped over and held up only by one of Bellatrix’s arms. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving, so he’s alive.

Regulus wants to tear Tom Riddle apart.

“Oh, I’m going to kill him,” Lily murmurs.

Regulus can’t speak through his rage. He takes a few steps forward but is yanked back by Remus, pulling the four of them behind a wall. “Wait. Just- wait.”

“I can’t believe you got him kidnapped,” Regulus hisses to Sirius. 

“You got him kidnapped too!”

“Yeah, but I was the one doing the kidnapping. That’s different.”

Regulus tries desperately not to think that this, too, was his fault. Once again James was being targeted, solely because he was loved by Regulus Black. The thought makes him want to throw up. 

Remus interrupts them. “What are we going to do? These kids… we need to get the Aurors back in here. And the Professors…”

“I’m going after them,” Lily says. “I want to make sure James is okay, but the students are my priority, and I can’t help them alone. We need the teachers. They have to be here somewhere, right?”

Remus nods. “If you do that, I’ll try and find some help from outside. Dumbledore, maybe.”

“He’s definitely busy holding up the wards,” Sirius interjects.

“Yeah, but this is Voldemort we’re talking about.” Remus says. “If anyone can take him on, it’s him.” 

“Go, then.” Regulus says. Remus gives him a stern look, hesitating. Regulus is reminded of a Nanny, afraid to leave their kids alone. He supposes it's fair, in a way. He’s a bit of a flight risk right now. 

Remus narrows his eyes. “You-”

“Remus.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he hisses, staring Regulus down. Then he turns, and starts off towards the main courtyard. 

“What’s our plan,” Sirius asks.

“No our,” Regulus says. “It’s me he wants anyway.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “You can’t just-”

“Watch me.”

“Regulus, do not-”

But it’s too late. Regulus lifts his wand and backs up, turning the corner into the great hall. Tom, he says as loud as he can, listening to the hiss echo around the room.

It’s okay.

He has to do this.

He can be brave.

Voldemort’s head snaps up, eyes locking on his. A soft ripple of whispers go up from the crowd gathered around, and the Death Eaters go quiet, halting their taunts. 

Voldemort smiles. Regulus. Child of my soul. You’re here. 

You have something of mine, Regulus says, stalking forward. His heart pounds in his chest. He doesn’t look at those beside him, but feels their eyes anyway. He just needs to stall until the help Remus ran to find can get here. That’s it. No fighting, no dying, no sacrifices. Just waiting.

Barty’s eyes are wide when Regulus looks at him, shocked and yet somehow also resolved, as if he knew this was going to happen.

“Look,” Voldemort says, loud and commanding. “The late Regulus Black, regretting his decisions. Coming back to the right side.”

“Let him go,” Regulus says softly. 

“And then, what? You’ll agree to what I ask? You’ll walk beside me again?”

“You need me alive,” Regulus says. “I know your secret now. The real one. I know- I know what you turned me into.”

Around the room, curious glances are exchanged. Regulus hates this. Hates the eyes on him. He isn’t meant to be a hero- isn’t built for some grand conflict on a makeshift stage.

Voldemort’s expression flickers, just for a moment. “Then you know the beauty of my plan. The perfection.”

And he’s right, at least in that sense- this does seem like a foolproof idea. The only way out is through death, and Regulus can’t even do that, because Bellatrix is still holding James by the arm, wand pressed against his neck.

James, who’s starting to stir. 

What did you do to him? Regulus asks, trying to keep his voice even, calm. 

I saw him in your head. You really think I didn’t? That first time, at the meeting, when I ordered the hit on him, I saw so much more than his face. You’re revolting, Black, truly. He shakes his head, and switches to English. “I sent one of my own into the facility in Cambridge, covered in glamour just in case, and let word go out that I’d use it as a distraction. I had no grand plans- maybe a small uprising, easily quelled, just to draw attention. And then I got in your head, found the bit of myself I put in you, followed it, and oh, Regulus…”

He laughs, a cruel sound. “Well. After that, I knew Potter would be there. I knew it was my chance to get my hands on something you’d die to get back.”

For some illogical reason, it’s Barty Regulus looks at. His face is wide, broken open, shocked. There’s betrayal, anger, and somewhere under all that, a shred of understanding. 

“I had to subdue him, of course. You don’t think he’ll mind a few more crucios?”

Regulus moves before he can think about it, lifting his wand and pointing it at Voldemort, whose thin lips split into a gruesome smile. 

“Oh, you don’t like that, do you?”

Regulus channels his rage into focus, trying desperately to think clearly. He turns his wand, brings his hand up, presses it against his own temple. He focuses on the feeling of the wood against his skin, sharp and dangerous. Ready.

“Let him go,” he whispers. 

“What, are you going to kill yourself? Drop dead in front of everyone? That won’t work. You know that, right?”

“Sure it will.”

“Look at me, Regulus. Look at where I am. Look at who I’m with. How would your death equal mine?”

And- the fucker- he’s right. Even if Regulus does it, even if it weakens Voldemort and renders him useless and vulnerable, he’s still surrounded by all his loyalist followers. He’s still protected. And there’s no one here that could ever get close enough to kill him. 

“Did you know Potter here already tried that? Had his wand up and was probably going to do it, too, if I hadn’t stopped him.”

Regulus’s heart drops. Because that’s absolutely something James would do. 

“I don’t think it would’ve worked. Potter doesn’t seem like the type to want to die, and with curses like that, you really have to mean it.” Voldemort smiles. “But you mean it, don’t you Mr. Black?”

James’s lashes flutter on his cheeks. Regulus wants to take him into his arms and run his hands through his hair, wipe his cheeks and kiss his forehead softly. Make him feel better. 

“Look at that,” Voldemort says. “He’s waking up. Should I put him back under?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” a voice says behind Regulus, and something in him crumbles. No, he thinks. Don’t join me in this fight. It isn’t yours.

Sirius steps up next to him, wand raised. “Put him down.”

Voldemort’s eyes practically sparkle. “Sirius. How delightful of you to join us. The Black brothers, reunited again. Touching, truly. Unfortunately, I’m only in need of your brother for this next bit. The two of us are going to go on a little trip to visit an old friend.”

“Moony’s right behind us,” Sirius breathes softly. “With Aurors.”

Regulus nods, a tiny motion, not taking his eyes off Voldemort’s face. 

“Cousins!” Bella shouts. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s a family reunion.” She jostles James slightly and Regulus feels Sirius flinch next to him.

“Yeah,” Regulus mutters. “Sure seems like it.” 

“Where did you put the real professors?” Sirius demands. 

“Oh, you noticed that little trick, huh? I thought it was pretty ingenious.” Voldemort shrugs. “Maybe you’ll find them, maybe you won’t. Are we ready to get back to the point now?” 

James blinks, gaze fuzzy and unfocused in Bella’s hold. Regulus watches as he looks up, mouth parting in alarm. Regulus shakes his head and James swallows, eyes locked on his. 

“How do I know?” Regulus says slowly, not moving. “How do I know you won't kill him if I join you?”

“Regulus,” Sirius hisses next to him. 

Voldemort’s lips split into a gruesome smile. “You have my word.”

“That’s not enough.”

Voldemort shrugs. “Remember why we’re in this situation in the first place, Mr. Black.” He doesn’t say it, but Regulus knows what he means. This is a trade. He still has something Voldemort wants: his life. 

“So, to be clear, I join you and then we release the Basilisk. And you let Potter go.” 

“That’s it.” Voldemort nods, eyes locked on Regulus. “Your rebellion was fun, Mr. Black, but it’s time to come back where you belong. Your parents will be so proud.”

Regulus takes a step towards him, then another. He walks slowly, Death Eaters turning to stare at him as he goes. He steps up to Riddle, pointedly not looking at James. The thing rotting inside his soul hums at the proximity. He leans into it, into that feeling, and smiles. “My Lord.”

Voldemort’s eyes flit over his face, and Regulus knows they’re playing on the same field. Everything’s a show, from Voldemort’s fake offer to Regulus’s fake acceptance. They both know what they’re doing. The others don’t. 

Even so, there’s a certain satisfied glint in Voldemort’s eye. He holds out a hand, a dare. Regulus forces the wave of disgust away and leans down to kiss it. He straightens slowly, turning to stand next to him. The crowd stares at him, Death Eaters looking shocked, still pushing back the terrified students.
Sirius, still clutching his wand, is still in the middle. Alone.

He looks small then, surrounded by cloaked figures with no one to stand by him. Regulus holds his eyes, and Sirius nods a little.

“Release him, then.” Regulus says, nodding to James. Voldemort tsks.

“We wouldn't want you going back on your decision now, would we?”

 “You said-”

“I did, didn’t I. Fine. He’s too weak to function on his own, anyway.” Voldemort nods to Bella, who looks disappointed but tosses James forward. He stays on his hands and knees and Regulus can see him shaking, heart constricting.

“Does he have a wand?” Regulus asks.

“Do you see one?” Voldemort responds lazily. Bella giggles. James lifts his head, catching Regulus's gaze. There’s something sharp in his eyes, glinting and dangerous. 

“Are you going to get up or just sit there like a dog?” Voldemort asks, smirking lightly.

“Maybe you should leash him,” Bellatrix whispers. 

James puts a hand on the ground and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling a bit but staying upright. He takes a few steps forward, swaying. Regulus knows the effects of crucios when he sees them. Some Death Eaters laugh, and Regulus wants to cut their throats. Voldemort smiles, attention flicking back to the audience for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak- and that’s all James needs. 

There’s barely any warning before James whirls around, kicking the nearest Death Eater hard in the stomach and snatching the wand from his hand. His eyes flash and then he’s shooting a stunning curse directly at Voldemort’s feet. Not to hit, just to disrupt.

Regulus takes his cue. 

He disarms the two Death Eaters next to him, shoving another back with a shield charm. That’s all the free time they're given, and suddenly spells are flying from every direction. 

Voldemort lunges for Regulus’s wrist, icy fingers closing tight around his skin. The thing inside him rears its ugly head and Regulus thinks he’s going to be sick right there in the middle of the Great Hall. Voldemort’s got his wand in his other hand, raising it as if ready to deflect a curse Regulus hasn’t cast yet. Before he can think about what he’s doing Regulus presses his wand into his own thigh and shoots a stinging curse through his leg.

It hurts, obviously, and he has to grit his teeth against a whimper, but at least he was expecting it. Voldemort was not. 

He lets out a strangled cry as the second-hand pain hits him and Regulus uses the moment of distraction to rip away, stumbling back. So their feelings are connected, then. Interesting. It was  a hypothesis, but not proven till now.

James is suddenly behind him, yanking Regulus out of reach. Voldemort's eyes go wide and he looks, for once in his life, furious. He raises his wand- to do what, Regulus isn’t sure- but is disrupted when there are shouts at the door.

The backup has arrived.

After that, everything happens so quickly Regulus barely keeps up. There’s a cry of warning from one of the Death Eaters and a rush behind him as at least ten Aurors and Order members burst into the Great Hall, spells already flying. Shields flash like glass in the air, curses ricochet against the stone walls. Shouts go up from the students, inspired by their presence, and they raise their wands in a ragged, desperate push against their captors.

The Death Eaters react instantly. Bolts of green and red light slice through the smoke and screams, a piece of stone trim shatters and comes crashing down as the center of the hall becomes a brawl of magic and bodies. One student crumples with a cry, another Auror drags them to cover; a Death Eater pulls two younger kids forward as shields, forcing their friends to hesitate.

There’s something dark gathering around Voldemort’s feet as he raises his wand, cursed magic surrounding him and answering to its master. His eyes are locked on Regulus. 

Regulus, like the coward he is, turns and darts through the fray, pulling James with him. He hears Voldemort shout something but he can’t quite make it out. 

Someone jumps in front of him, wand raised. Regulus’s eyes go wide and he can’t quite bring himself to let the next curse fly. “Barty,” he says.

Barty just winces apologetically and continues forward, parrying him back with harmless spells. “Why are you doing this?” he hisses. “Just- just go home, Reg, don’t do this-”

“Dorcas is out there, did you know?” Regulus spits back. “Are you going to fight her too? Kill her for the cause?”

Barty, to his credit, looks absolutely miserable. “Just-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Regulus says, because he’s certain Barty won’t actually hurt him and he has shit to do. He ducks around Barty and pushes on, blindly trusting James is somewhere behind him. Somehow they make it through the fray, ducking and putting up shields as they go. Everything is a blur, Regulus working off pure instinct.

They round the corner out of the hall and Regulus turns, letting out a long breath of relief when James stumbles right after him. James sinks down against the far wall, sucking in gasps of air. Regulus follows. He kneels in front of him, panting, desperately trying to get air back into his lungs. James’s face is screwed up in pain, eyes glassy behind his crooked glasses. Every inch of him is trembling. 

“James,” Regulus whispers, reaching out and cupping his cheek to lift his face. “Can you look at me? Are you hurt? What did he do?”

James shudders and leans into the touch, still breathing heavily. “You’re here,” He whispers. “You’re here.”

“So are you, and you’re fine.” Regulus rests his forehead against James’s, something bittersweet rising inside of him. Tears press against the back of his eyes. He can't do this. He can't. He has to. “I love you so much, James Potter.”

James nods against him, shaking, and chokes on a breath. “I love you too,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you still have a wand?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stick with someone, okay?”

“You,” James says immediately, and Regulus shakes his head. 

“Not me. Not me. I’m- I can’t stay with you through this, okay? But someone else. Sirius. Stay with him.”

“What are you going to do? What are you planning? Why did Voldemort need me?”

“I have everything under control. I need you to trust me.” 

“There you are, thank fuck-” Sirius skids around the corner, coming to a stop and sinnking down at James’s side. “Voldemort’s gone. He disappeared. No one knows where he went.”

“The Chamber,” Regulus says instantly. “He’s going to release the snake. He knows I’ll meet him there. He’s forcing my hand.” 

“Sirius,” James says, and Sirius’s face melts. He hugs James tight, burying his face in his shoulder. 

“Never do that again, do you hear me?” He whispers. “We can’t keep rescuing you, Prongs.”

“Then stop trying,” James says, but hugs him back anyway. 

“We have to go back in there,” Sirius says. “They’re going to turn on the students soon enough.” 

James nods, pushing himself up. He’s weak, though, and sinks back down. “Fuck.”

“What did he do to you?” Sirius asks.

“Just- just some spells. Nothing serious.”

Regulus almost laughs, but when James meets his eyes he forgets what's funny.

“There you guys are,” Remus says, a cut on his cheek and blood on his arm. He drops into a squat next to James, smiling softly at him. “Good to have you back, Prongs.”

“Moony,” Sirius says, reaching up to wipe his cheek. “What happened to your face? What’s going on?”

“Okay-” Remus takes a breath. “So outside, and in the first few hallways near the entrances, that’s where most of his army is. Creatures and such- though there aren't too many. Enough we can still do this, I think. They’re trying to overwhelm the masses while Voldemort takes over the school. We were right. He wants total control.”

“He’s going to unleash the Basilisk,” Regulus says again. No one is seeing to grasp the gravity of that particular situation. 

“And Dumbledore?”

Remus grimaces. “He’s holding up the wards single handedly. Someone needs to find the professors. He can’t move till we do.”

“And Voldemort?”

“Heading for the Chamber,” Regulus repeats. Honestly, you’d think they’d care more. 

“So-” 

“So we need to go back in there,” Sirius says, nodding to the Great Hall, “And get the students out. We can take them to the dungeons or something, some sort of passage. Do we have the map?”

“I do,” Remus says. He shifts. “It’s- the moon will rise soon.”

“Okay. We can divert our attention to that when it does.”

“James, can you stand?”

James nods as he proves it. “I want my wand.”

Dread rises in Regulus as he watches him, stomach curdling. He knows what comes next. He sucks in a breath and it shakes on the inhale, curling his hands into fists. He wants to hug him, run away, out of the castle and through the grounds and across the line, apparating somewhere, anywhere, far away from what's about to come next and what he’s about to do. 

“Regulus-” Sirius cuts in. “What was he talking about? What were you doing?”

Remus turns to Regulus, one brow raised. Regulus shakes his head, shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. What were you talking about, needing to die? Why?”

“What?” James looks up, eyes wide.

“We should go back in,” Regulus says. “We’re wasting time.” 

“Wait-”

“No, you said he needs you alive. Why would he need you alive? Why would you pull the wand on yourself? None of it makes any sense. Is it… is it something to do with why you’re connected to the Horcruxes?”

“Oh my god,” James says softly, and Regulus curses everything. He wishes he wasn’t so smart. It’s okay, he figures. James was halfway to the truth anyway. “No.

No, no, wait-”

“We need to go,” Regulus interrupts, starting to walk back towards the commotion in the Great Hall. His heart pounds in his chest. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to do this-

“Regulus,” James says and sounds devastated. Scared. “Regulus!” 

They catch up to him, rounding the corner all at once. James grabs his arm but has to let go when a kid runs up to them, no more than a first year. “They have my friend,” he says, and there’s a wobble in his voice that captures all of James’s attention.

Regulus watches as James listens to him, nodding, turning back to Sirius and saying something. The words dim and fade in Regulus’s ears, soft fuzz as he stares. He watches them, his brother and James, heart so full and so, so sad. He loves them so much. So much it aches. So much it burns. He wishes he could tell them. 

But Voldemort’s gone, and he has duties elsewhere. Besides- he knows it’s time.

He has to go. 

James and Sirius start to trail after the kid in the crowd before James seems to remember and skids to a stop, turning and searching for Regulus when he realizes he isn’t following. 

He meets James’s chocolate gaze, watching it melt into horror as Regulus backs up, one foot behind the other, and then he has to turn away because he thinks if he has to look at him any longer he won’t go at all. 

“Je t’aime,” he whispers, and hopes the words somehow find their way to him. He imagines they will, one day. 

He knows James will go after him. He can only hope the commotion in the hall will delay him long enough for Regulus to get away.

With one last look at the love of his life, Regulus turns and runs away. 

 

---

 

Lily hates leaving James in Voldemort’s clawed hands. She hates the look on his face, asleep yet pinched, as if he somehow knows something is wrong even while unconscious. She hates the thought that he could’ve used her help and she wasn't there. 

But the students piling out of the classroom, filling the Great Hall- those were her priority. They had to be. And she couldn’t protect them alone. 

She doesn’t blame the others for staying. How could she, when it was so hard to leave herself? Sirius and Remus- of course they were going to go after him. And Regulus-

Well. She doesn’t have every piece of that puzzle, but she knows enough to know there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to be able to tear him away. 

She pushes through the mass of students, shouting at them to go back into the classrooms or at least out of the main areas. For a moment her heart jumps when she rounds the corner and comes face to face with Professor Kettleburn. There’s one, she thinks, before reality sets in. 

A student runs up to the teacher, looking relieved, and Lily darts forward, shoving the kid back. “Go find a member of the Order instead,” she says, pulling her wand on Kettleburn. 

“But-”

“Go.”

“What’s all this?” Kettleburn asks, and it’s his voice and his eyes and his face- but Lily pushes past it anyway.

“You don’t have to pull that act with me.” She hisses, anger burning clean through her. She lifts her wand higher, and Kettleburn just smirks.

“Ah,” He says, and then shoots a curse directly into Lily’s stomach.

Pain wracks her body and she doubles over, stumbling back as she cries out. She sends up a Protego and deflects the next curse, raising her wand again.

“Lily!”

It’s Marlene, skidding to her rescue, already pushing Kettleburn back with curses. “Reducto,” She spits, and Kettleburn is knocked off his feet before he can fight back. Lily scrambles forward, picking herself up. 

She flicks her wand. “Expeliarmus.” 

Marlene catches Kettleburn’s wand when it flies from his hand.

Lily and Marlene take a second to stare at each other, breathing heavily, before they jump back into action. “Incarcerous,” Marlene casts, and thick dark ropes shoot out from her wand, binding Kettleburn as he struggles. They wrap around his arms, legs, mouth- capturing him completely.

Lily levitates Kettleburn before she has time to think about what she’s doing, and guides his floating body into the newly empty classroom next to her. She lets him fall, looking up at Marlene and meeting her terrified expression.

“What,” Marlene gasps.

“I don’t know!” Lily hisses. “I panicked.”

“What do we do with him now?”

“Is it even a him?” Lily looks down in disgust. “Who are you, really?”

Kettleburn just glares. 

“Lily-” Marlene starts awkwardly, pointing.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lily takes a knee, ripping at the rope around Kettleburn’s mouth. “Answer us.”

Marlene kicks him hard in the side. “Do it.” 

Kettleburn grunts, eyes glinting. “Evans. McKinnon.”

Marlene and Lily exchange a glance. “Who are you?”

“Why should I tell you?”

Lily presses her wand against Kettleburn’s neck. “I was top of my class in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I may not be a Death Eater, but I know my fair share of dark magic.”

Kettleburn’s lips curl. “A know-it-all to the very end, huh? I’m shocked you don’t recognize me. I sat behind you.”

She sucks in a breath, grip on her wand loosening momentarily. “Mulciber?”

“What?” Marlene hisses above them.

“Surprise,” Mulciber grins. He thrashes in his binds. Lily stands slowly, mind reeling. Some of these people- these monsters- were her classmates.

She stares at Marlene. “We need to find the professors,” She whispers. Marlene nods, grim.

“I got separated from Dorcas. I’m not worried- she can hold her own. But it’s a shit show out front.”

“It’s a shit show back there too,” Lily says. “They have James."

Marlene’s expression darkens. “They what? Who?”

“Voldemort.”

“And- shouldn’t we-”

“Sirius and Remus are on it. If anyone wants him back it's them. Regulus too.”

“Black is here?”

“Black is alive?” Mulciber says from the floor, with Kettleburn’s voice. He sounds astonished.

Lily kicks him again, because she can, and because part of her wants to see him hurt. “Yeah. He’s with us now, did you know?”

“I was told he was dead.”

“Nope.” Lily pops the p. “Not yet.”

“That bastard Snape will be happy.”

Lily’s stomach curdles. “Why?”

“They were always close before Black di- left.”

“Oh.” Lily knew they’d worked together, but close? She wasn’t so sure. As long as Mucliber didn’t know Snape was the traitor, everything was fine. 

“What are you going to do with me?” Mulciber grouses from the floor. “I know neither of you have the guts to kill with me.”

Marlene and Lily exchange a look, and then spring into action. They yank Mulciber up from the ground, bracing him against a table. Lily pushes her wand under his chin. 

“Tell us where the Professors are,” she says. “The real ones.” 

“And why would I do that?” he leers.

“Because you have the chance to do something right for once in your miserable life,” Marlene intones, holding him steady. 

“I don’t feel particularly threatened right now,” Mulciber says, eyes glinting. 

Marlene, whose wand is pressed into his left shoulder, looks to Lily, as if for permission. Lily nods. 

“Diffindo.” She says it quickly, almost cautiously, and Lily knows it's her first time using the spell. 

It works nonetheless, and blood immediately spurts from Mulciber’s shoulder as he shrieks in pain.

“Bitch,” he cries, so Marlene reaches over and shoves the tip of her wand into his new wound.
He screams, thrashing. 

“Mudblood cunt,” he chokes out, eyes catching on Lily, and so she punches him in the face. 

His head snaps back at the impact and Lily hisses in victory, shaking her hand. The sting on her knuckles is nothing compared to the satisfaction bubbling in her gut. 

Marlene laughs across from her, holding him steady. “Ready to tell us?”

“Not a chance,” He spits, blood dripping onto his lips. Lily thinks distantly she might’ve broken his nose. Good. 

It’s her turn now, she knows, and she presses her wand against his other shoulder. Might as well make it symmetrical, she thinks. “Diffindo.” 

His scream is somehow more satisfying this time.

“So?” Marlene growls.

He shakes his head, spits at their feet. 

Lily looks to Marlene and then subtly glances down, raising her brows. Marlene smirks, and lowers her wand until it’s hovering in front of Mucliber’s groin. Bound as he is, he has no defense except wildly thrashing. “I think we’ve proven what spell we’re proficient with,” Marlene whispers. “Unless you need another demonstration.”

His eyes go wide as saucers, struggling against the ropes.

“You could tell us,” Lily says sweetly. “You’d lose your dignity, sure, but you’d keep your dick. That counts for something, right?”

“The dungeons,” Mucliber gasps, voice choked with terror. “They’re in the dungeons. Unconscious, but they can be woken up. It’s just a basic sleeping potion.”

Lily lets out a breath and nods, looking up at Marlene. “You up for a little rescue mission?”

She grins, a fleck of Mulciber’s blood on her chin. “Always.”

 

—

 

Remus notices Regulus is gone a second after he leaves, catching sight of him just in time to see his back round the corner out of the Great Hall. His heart drops. Regulus should not be alone right now. Remus turns around, finding Sirius helping some first years out of the danger. James is shoving through the crowd, obviously trying to go after Regulus.

Remus beats him to it.

He takes off down the hall after him, already reaching for the map in his pocket. He unfolds it quickly, fingers shaking. He scans it, heart pounding, and- there.

He’s not too far, thank god, and Remus follows quickly.

Remus is overcome with gratitude that the fighting has been mainly consigned to the Great Hall and outside as he runs through the corridors. He doesn’t need any distractions right now. 

He finds Regulus a few halls down, walking quickly with his head down. “Regulus!” he calls, and watches the other boy stop and turns. His eyes are tired, lifeless, already dead. 

“Remus. You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“I told you I would do this with you. Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?”

“Outside? To find Dumbledore?”

Regulus nods, lips pressed into a thin line.

“That’s in the other direction.”

“I’m taking the long way.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, a line of tension between them.

Remus takes a small step forward and Regulus moves back, and then they both go still again. “Regulus,” he says softly, almost a whisper. “Don’t do this.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can try.”

“How?”

Remus stares at him, and slowly, so slowly, pulls out his wand.

Regulus laughs, bitter, and shakes his head. “You aren’t going to fight me, Lupin.”

“No,” he agrees, “but maybe a binding spell. Anything to keep you here. Keep you alive.”

Regulus’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly around the wand at his side. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” His eyes flick to the side, examining his surroundings, looking for a way out. He finds one.

“Stupefy!” Remus hisses, but it’s too late.  

Regulus blocks the spell and faints left, sliding into a broom closet and slamming the door behind him. Remus dives for the handle, but hears the telltale click of the lock right before he reaches it. “Shit.” 

He slides to a stop in front of the nondescript door, jiggling the handle harshly. “Regulus,” he hisses. “Open the door.”

Silence. 

Remus slides to the floor, leaning against the wood. “What are you planning to do? I swear to god if you-”

He hears a soft thump as Regulus sits down on the opposite side of the door. “We need to win this war, Remus.”

“I know. I know. But- there has to be another way.”

“I think we both know there isn’t.”

Remus sucks in a breath, running a hand over his face. He tries to calm himself down, thinking logically. “How would you do it? A spell? Do you think you could? That takes a lot of willpower, you know.”

---

 

How would he do it?  The only way he knows how. Regulus stares down at the vial of green venom cupped in his hands, the last one. He made a promise to the Basilisk, and he intends to follow through. 

He leans his head back on the door behind him, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear runs down his cheek, collecting on his chin and falling to the floor.

Fuck. 

He doesn’t want to do this.

---

 

“Regulus?” Remus taps the door again, desperately keeping his voice cool and even. Low stress. “You have to keep talking to me or I won’t know…” 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” 

“You know, it’s a bit melodramatic to run off in the middle of a battle and kill yourself in a broom closet.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a melodramatic situation.”

Remus nods, taking a long slow breath and closing his eyes. Even despite the Wolfsbane, his joints ache. The moon is rising. He examines his fingers, his nails, always a little longer than he’d like them. “If I was in your position,” He says softly, “I would probably do the same thing.” It’s true, and the thought injects him with some sort of hopelessness. If he would do it, why shouldn’t Regulus?

“I know. I think we’re alike in some ways. Not everything, but maybe just the ones that matter.” 

Remus nods, though Regulus can’t see it. “But- but even so, there are other options. We’ll figure something out.”

There’s part of him, a horrible, guilty part, that wants to give up. Wants to let Regulus do it, end this war, be done with everything. He’s so tired of figuring things out. 

But he can’t do that to James and Sirius. 

And besides, they just started getting along.

“This will ruin their lives, you know.” He says softly into the silence, watching a painting on the other side of the hall whisper to her friend. “James and Sirius. This will ruin their lives.”

Regulus takes a moment to respond. Remus can hear his breathing through the door. “I know.”

“James will blame himself. Sirius will blame me for letting you go through with it. Regulus, if you do this- you aren’t just ending yourself. You’re ending them.” He pauses. “I can’t pull them back from this.”

“You can’t pull the world back either.”

“No,” Remus agrees. “But ask them what they’d choose. Ask them if they’d prefer to win the war or keep you alive.”

“Sirius would-”

“He loves you.”

There’s silence on the other side of the door, and Remus wonders what Regulus is thinking. 

“He loves you, and you obviously know James would rather die than see you hurt.”

“I don’t- this- Remus,” Regulus says, and there’s something desperate and pleading in his voice. “You’re only making it worse.” 

“Isn’t there a better time?” Remus asks. “Maybe you should wait till we capture him.”

“If I don’t do this now, he’ll release the Baslisk. I can weaken him. Drastically. Make him mortal, and then everyone else has a much better chance. And besides, we aren’t going to capture him. Not at his skill. Not immortal.”

Remus shakes his head. “I know I can’t stop you,” he continues eventually. He tips to the side, pressing his forehead against the door. The wood grain feels rough beneath his skin. “I know I can’t make a difference. But James- Dorcas- Sirius- me- we won’t stop until we fix this. We’ll find a way to get his soul out of you without… without…”

“He killed a man to do this,” Regulus says slowly. “He murdered an innocent man right in front of me. And then he- he infested me. It’s moldy, and disgusting, and sometimes I can hardly breathe because I feel it in my lungs. I’ve been rotting for months, Remus. Months. I can’t stand it anymore.” 

“You don’t have to. There has to be-” he stops, a thought hitting him like a train. “Dumbledore. Shit, of course. We’ll find Dumbledore. We can tell him.” The idea sparks hope in his chest and he sits up a little straighter. “We should. Wait- we should tell him. He could help.”

There’s silence on the other end of the door. 

Remus presses on, turning to face the wood as if he can see Regulus through it. “No, really. He’d find another way, if he knew. Come on, Regulus, just open the door and we can go to him. He’ll tell us what to do.”

For a moment, there’s no sound. Remus’s heart picks up as anxiety tingles in his fingertips. And then-

“Okay.”

Remus could cry with relief. “Okay? You’ll unlock the door?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Thank fuck.

There’s a click and Remus scrambles up, smiling breathlessly when it swings open. Regulus stares at him, the dark circles under his eyes pronounced.

“Dumbledore already knows,” he murmurs, standing on the other side. 

Remus feels his face fall as he takes a step back. “What?”

“I knew you’d try and talk me out of it,” Regulus says softly. A small empty glass vial slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor. He chuckles weakly, looking down. “You probably could’ve, too.” 

And then he stagers, gripping the wall for support, and Remus’s heart caves in. 

 

—

 

James shoves through students, fear shooting through his chest as he watches Regulus go and Moony chase after him.

Everything is crashing down around him, all the panic and questions and answers he’s been avoiding for months suddenly breathing down his neck. 

Of course he’s a Horcrux.

Of course he is.

And now he has to get to him before he does something stupid, like- like- 

James can’t even think it, heart beating a million times per minute in his chest. No, no, no, please- he grabs Sirius’s arm, meeting his best friend's wild eyes. He watches them change as he sees the expression on James’s face. “Prongs, what-”

“Regulus,” he gasps. “We need to find him. Right fucking now.”

“What? Why? Where did he go? I thought he was behind you.”

So did I, James thinks, because he did. He really just assumed Regulus would charge into battle right behind him. He should’ve known not to trust him. By the time he’d realized he wasn’t there, it was too late to catch him. 

“I- I don’t know- he-” He’s choking on his breath now, on his panic, and struggles to get a full sentence out.

“Where’s Moony?” Sirius looks around, eyes wide.

“The Chamber. They’re going to the Chamber. They’re going to confront Voldemort. Oh, god, Sirius- they can’t win that fight.”

Sirius is already moving, pulling him along. “Why would they-”

“Cause Reg is a-” James can’t even say it, feet hitting the floor as they take off. “He’s going to do something bad. We have to get to him before he does.”

Of course this is the fucking shit Regulus would keep from him untill it’s too late. Well, maybe that was smart, because if James knew about this he’d absolutely lock him in his room back at Godric’s Hollow and throw away the key. 

“Shit, shit-” Sirius mutters, and even if he doesn’t understand the extent of the issue he knows it’s life or death. James appreciates it. “Do you know how to get there?”

“Yes. I- yes.” His body aches as he runs, not fully recovered from the crucios. He’s slower than he’d like to be, out of breath and in pain, but he pushes forward anyway. Of course he does.

Of course. 

Please, love, he pleads desperately. Please. Just wait a little longer. Wait for me. 

I’m almost there. 

 

—

 

They don’t tell you dying hurts.

Well, they do- but less often than you’d think. Regulus imagines Muggles are more used to the idea, since they don't have spells of instant death. It’s been said that Avada’s don’t hurt- it's so quick you don’t notice you’re dead until you open your eyes on the other side.

Basilisk venom doesn’t have the same effect. 

It burns in his throat, corroding, erosive, and he feels its effect immediately. He gasps, chokes, feels the coolness of the wall against his skin and leans into it. 

Remus grabs his arm, face dismayed, and Regulus wants to reassure him. He can’t.

“Five minutes,” he manages instead. “I have five minutes. I know where Voldemort is going. I need to get there before- before-”

“You did it,” Remus whispers. “You idiot. You idiot. What’s the cure? What the antidote?’”

Regulus shakes his head, grabbing Remus’s arm and squeezing. “Please. Please, Remus, just go. I’m meeting him in the Chamber.”

“I can’t believe- I thought you-”

“Remus-”

“Why would you do that?” Remus asks, so upset it hurts to look at him. 

“You know why. I was always- ah- I was always going to do this. There was no way around it.”

“I thought- I thought I found a solution.” Remus whispers. 

Regulus shakes his head, chuckles, and then winces. “I need to move,” he says. “I can’t waste any more time.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Regulus doesn’t argue, staring at him, and Remus lets out a long breath. “I don’t know how to get there,” Remus admits finally, voice torn. 

“I do,” Regulus responds, and takes a few steps. Everything hurts. He can’t keep this up.

Remus follows him, steadying him ever so often. His breaths come out choked and cut short, and Regulus knows how he feels. His lungs aren't working right either, though he imagines that's for a different reason. 

The halls twist and turn as he guides them, holding himself upright through sheer willpower.

When they enter the bathroom and see the sealed sink, Regulus lets out a breath of relief. They beat him here. He’ll have a chance to talk to Saskia before Voldemort does. 

“What the fuck is this place?” Remus mutters.

Regulus doesn't waste energy on an answer.

It isn’t till they get down the tunnel and into the bone-littered room that Regulus’s resolve wears out. He hisses in pain, doubling over and falling to his knees on the ground. He gags, throwing up whatever’s left in his stomach.

Remus kneels next to him, muttering panicked solutions they both know aren’t even worth considering. 

Regulus staggers to his feet, leaning into Remus’s shoulder. His face is pale and sweaty, trembling constantly as he wraps an arm around his stomach. Remus presses his lips together, giving him such a worried look Regulus can’t hold his gaze. “Just get to the chamber,” he rasps. 

“We have to find you an antidote-”

“We have to stop the Basilisk from murdering a bunch of children,” Regulus intones, attempting to keep walking. His stomach burns, burns, burns, eating itself alive. Fuck, he wishes there was a more painless way of killing yourself. He supposes an avada would’ve gotten the job done, but he needed to insure he wouldn’t be interrupted or disarmed. He needed his death to be inevitable. Besides, there's some wonderful sort of karma in the Basilisk’s venom being what kills him. 

“Shit.” Remus continues on, the pair making their way down the final hall, their steps echoing on the marble around them.

“Close your eyes,” Regulus instructs. “I’ll cast a spell to blind her. She may not kill us, if I can play my cards right. We just have to get to her before Tom does.”

“Okay. Okay- yeah, I trust you.” They’ve reached the door. Remus squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away. Regulus grips his wand, ignoring the way his hand shakes. Just a few more minutes. Just- just get to her and make her see, make her understand, and then he can give in. 

Open, he whispers, for the last time. 

The stone snakes respond and slither back, grating and loud as the round door swings open. Regulus raises his wand. The curse is on his lips, ready to be cast, waiting till he sees a glint of scales, or the flick of a tongue, or-

“There you are, Mr. Black.”

The voice sends chills down his spine. Next to him, he feels Remus shudder and stiffen simultaneously. 

No.

Please.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Voldemort says, spreading his arms. “Welcome back.”

Regulus’s knees give out. 

That seems to be the final straw and Remus springs into action, hosting him up and lifting his wand. Regulus finds his feet shakily, steadying himself on the wall next to him and taking a few steps towards the man in the middle of the chamber.

It’s not till he notices what’s behind him- or, what’s not behind him- that he feels the last of his hope bleed out. “Where’s the Basilisk,” he whispers, moving even further forward. 

“Oh, her?” Tom’s eyes flick behind him. “I knew you’d try and catch me. I knew she’d be your first stop. She’s my greatest weapon, of course. Eliminate her, and you’d save so many people. Such a shame I got here first. Such a shame you won't live to see her true potential.”

Where is she? She couldn’t have been released already, they’d have noticed, but she’s nowhere to be found. Regulus moves to the side, discreetly placing himself in front of Remus. He should’ve come alone. “You can’t kill me,” he rasps. 

“No. But you don’t need me for that, I see. You’re doing a wonderful job all on your own.”

“You won’t last. Not when I’m gone. So many people-” Regulus has to pause, gasping for air and trying to find the rest of his voice. Voldemort winces as well, face twitching with pain. Good, Regulus thinks. This is affecting him too. “So many powerful people want you dead. What will you do when you’re mortal?”

“No one's managed to get close enough to attempt it,” Voldemort says. “And that's not because of the Horcruxes. If they could kill me, they would try. I’m powerful enough on my own- the Horcruxes are simply back-ups. More protection.” 

“You’ll be weakened,” Remus says behind Regulus, voice shaky but determined. “It’ll be easy.” 

“Ah, Mr. Lupin. My wolf has told me about you. A shame you won’t join the cause. You’d make a wonderful monster.”

“I would never even-” Remus starts, low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure with the right spells we could change your mind,” Voldemort says. “Pain is a wonderful motivator.” 

Regulus lifts his wand, moving closer to Riddle. “Leave him out of this.”

“Oh, but he’s well in it, isn’t he?”

“What did you do to her?” Regulus asks, nodding to the empty chamber. Even a motion as small as that aches. He doesn’t have long left.

“Same thing you did, I presume.” Tom looks at the tunnel behind him and then back to Regulus. “Had a conversation.”

So she’s still here then. In her tunnel, waiting or hiding. Good. Maybe she refused to come out and greet Voldemort. Maybe she was lying in wait. Either way, he knows she can smell him. “She won’t do what you ask.”

Voldemort scoffs. “Of course she will. She was born for this. She was made for this.” 

“She-” A stab of pain shoots through him and he lets out an involuntary whimper, bending forward. He hears Remus’s steps behind him, and wishes he wouldn’t. 

“Go,” He breathes. “You can’t get out of this alive unless you leave now.”

“Someone needs to stop him,” Remus mutters.

“Not you.”

“See anyone else?”

Regulus groans, wrapping one arm around himself, the other still pointing his wand at Riddle. “What are you waiting for?” He asks desperately. “Why not kill us? Why not release her? You have everyone where you want them.”

“When you die, I’ll feel it. I need it to be contained. I also wanted to have a little chat. Figured it would be best, since you were so resistant in the Great Hall. Do you get nervous in front of crowds, Regulus?” 

Regulus stares at him. He must’ve felt it when he took the venom, and knew he didn’t have long left. Knew his death would leave him vulnerable. So he escaped to the one place only the two of them would go- and was now waiting him out. Shit. Regulus really needed to keep Remus alive. 

He turns to him, already weakening. “Saskia,” he whispers under his breath, so low, voice cracking. “Her name is Saskia. I don’t think he knows that. She said- she said names have power.” His knees buckle again and Remus catches him, slinging one of his arms around his shoulders to keep him upright.

Remus’s brows furrow, eyes flicking quickly to his and then back to the Dark Lord. “Don’t you dare die on me,” he hisses, “Not now.” 

“I think it may be a little late for that, Lupin.” Voldemort says. “He’s weak. I can feel it.”

“It’ll hurt,” Regulus continues to Remus, still barely a whisper in the still air. “When I go, he- it’ll hurt.” 

Remus’s eyes widen slightly in understanding, and he gives the barest of nods.

“I should’ve known I was making a mistake with you,” Tom continues, circling them with his hands behind his back. Both Remus and Regulus turn with him, Regulus barely staying upright with each step. Tom pauses by the door, and Regulus realizes distantly he’s putting them between the tunnel behind him and himself, trapping them in. “I thought you, of all people, would be loyal. You saw what happened to your useless brother. I figured you would learn from his mistakes.” 

Remus stiffens next to him, and Regulus silently begs him not to do anything stupid. 

“You were smart, you made my potions, followed my demands. You hurt those muggles, defanged the snake, tortured that man, killed those two young girls.”
Regulus closes his eyes. He can feel Remus’s gaze, burning the back of his head. “I…”

“And so I thought- finally. Here is a follower who’s loyal. Here is someone who will kill for the cause. I saw the same drive in you that I saw in myself. You would do whatever it took to not die. That’s exactly what I needed in someone whose only job was to stay alive.” His lip curls. “Obviously, I was wrong. You couldn’t even manage that much.” 

“When you first went to that cave, when that locket was destroyed, I thought surely not. And then you didn’t come back, and… well. I couldn’t tell my followers you were still alive. I couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t have them hunting you either. And, besides, the longer you lived in peace the less willing you’d be to leave it.” 

Regulus’s stomach burns. He gags, then bends, and vomits onto the marble tile. There’s a hand on his shoulder, but even that’s not enough to stop him from sinking to his knees, both arms wrapped around his middle now. He retches again, his body attempting any last ditch effort to clear the poison from his system.

The vomit on the ground is red; bloody. Less than two minutes now, he thinks. Remus kneels next to him, cursing lowly.

Voldemort flinches across from him, looking disgusted and in pain. The sight brings Regulus some happiness. 

“I thought you were right,” he manages eventually, when all that's left is bile and blood on his tongue. “I thought- well, maybe I never believed muggles deserved to die, but I thought you were going to win anyway. There was no point fighting the inevitable.”

“So what changed?”

“You started hurting the people I cared about,” Regulus says simply. 

The Dark Lord’s lip curls. “Potter.”

At the sound of his name on Voldemort's tongue, Regulus wants to vomit all over again. “And my brother,” he manages. “And the Baslisk.” 

He knows she can hear him. He just hopes she listens. 

“I believe it was you who did that, Black.” 

“You made me,” Regulus spits. There’s blood on his chin now, he knows. He can barely see, black spots dancing in his vision. “You threatened my brother. I had no choice. She knows that.”

“At the end of the day, you were still the one holding the knife. How do you think it felt to be betrayed like that? To be tricked for an entire year?”

“It wasn’t a trick,” Regulus says, trying to keep his voice loud enough for her to hear. “I really cared about her. I was never going to go through with your plan. I enjoyed her company. I- I loved her.”

Voldemort laughs. “No one could love a beast like that. Stop lying, boy. There’s no point. Not now.” 

“I did.” Regulus manages. He coughs, leaning over himself. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. Another glob of blood falls from his lips to the stone below. “I do. I need her to know that. I need her to know I never would’ve hurt her if it wasn’t for Sirius.”

“Sirius…” Remus whispers.

“And I want her to remember-” he has to put a hand down to brace himself, even on his knees as he is. For the first time, a small pit of icy panic forms in his stomach. He’s going to die. That’s what’s happening right now. He’s dying. “I want her to remember the kindness I showed her, before the end. I want her to remember our conversations. I want her to remember how her master treated her before he was radicalized. I want her to remember how you treated her. I want her to understand what death does to a person. Even the threat of it is enough to turn the world to misery. You threatened my brother, and I hurt her. Slytherin killed the muggles, and in turn he left her behind. You’ve been obsessed with death as long as she’s known you, and she has the scars to prove it.” 

He doesn’t know where he’s going with this, but he hopes she can find some semblance of his true meaning in his words. Of his intention. “I hope she knows that more death isn’t the solution. I hope she knows her master went through something horrible, something no one deserved, but it warped his mind. The person that loved her, that raised her, was not the man that left her. I want her to respect the spirit of Salazar, not Slytherin.”

He falls to his elbow, bracing himself with his other palm on the stone. He forces air into his lungs. There’s less and less of it now. Remus kneels over him, wand still pointed at the Dark Lord. It trembles in his grip. “Regulus,” he whispers, distraught. 

Regulus forces himself to meet Voldemort’s eyes, desperately trying to keep his lids open. There’s no pain anymore. 

That can’t be a good sign.

“I took her fangs,” He manages. “But I used their venom to make this poison. I promised her she could kill me. I guess, in some way, she is.”

“Regulus,” Remus whispers. “Save your breath. We can find a way to kill him and then… and then we’ll get you to a healer, to James, and…”

“Shut up,” Regulus hisses, staring at the ground. “You know there’s nothing we can do.” He looks up at Remus. “You know…” he starts weakly. “You know what to say. To the others.”

“I know. I’ll tell them.” There are tears in Remus’s eyes. On his lashes. 

“Well, this has all been very touching, but I’m about ready to get this over with and release the beast.” the Dark Lord raises his wand, pointing it at Remus, who flinches hard above Regulus, somehow holding his ground. “Let's get you out of the way, shall we?”

“Wait-” Regulus manages, barely conscious. He won’t watch Remus die. That would ruin everything. “You kill him, I won’t tell you about your mother.”

Voldemort doesn’t look at him, but he casts no spell. His wand stays raised. His nostrils flair. Regulus can see the slight tremble in his arm, his shoulder, his chest. The pain must be affecting him more than he thought. “I’d watch your tongue, boy.”

“I talked to her. I found the stone.” 

Voldemort’s eyes flick to him then, pupils narrowing in. “You brat.” 

“You wanna know what she said?”

Voldemort stares at him, and for a moment, Regulus can see the boy hiding inside the snake, missing his mother. He knows how it feels.

“She said you were a fucking disappointment,” Regulus spits. The lie comes to him easily, carried on the back of years-old fury. He wants the Dark Lord to die hating himself. “She said she knew who you were the second she had you. She saw the rot in you. The mold. She hated you. Couldn’t even hold you. That’s what she gave you up so easily.”

“She died,” Riddle snaps. 

“I think, deep down, you know she was right.” Regulus presses on, ignoring him, stalling. Why can’t he hurry up and lose consciousness? “You know there’s nothing worth saving in you. You disgusted her, just like you disgust the rest of the world.”

“Shut up. If you think your lies and-”

“I’m just saying, Tom,” Regulus manages. His vision is fading, rapidly. “How do you expect the world to love you if your own mother would rather die than raise you?”

“I don’t need them to love me. I need them to fear me.”

“Yeah,” Regulus croaks. “See how far that gets you.” He doesn’t know if he can talk anymore. Riddle’s eyes stay on him. He trembles, stumbling where he stands.

They both know how soon this will end. They both know what will happen when it does.

Voldemort grunts in pain, momentarily forgetting his mission to kill Remus and instead raising a hand to his chest and rubbing. Regulus’s eyes slide shut and it takes way more effort than it should to open them again. A spasm rocks through him, and the resulting effect on the Dark Lord forces him to one knee, gritting his teeth and looking furious at his hubris. 

“Regulus,” Remus whispers, one hand on his shoulder. Regulus’s last strength leaves him and he collapses the rest of the way to the ground. Through his lashes he watches Voldemort twist and shudder across the Chamber. 

He wants James here.

He wants to hold his hand. Wants to kiss his forehead.

He doesn’t want to die on the cold ground.

At least he isn’t alone. 

At least he’s taking someone with him. 

He much prefers this to the lake. 

“I’ll tell him,” Remus is whispering desperately. “I’ll tell him. And I won’t let this- I’ll end this, Regulus, I promise. For you. For everyone. I won’t let this go to waste.”

Regulus nods, barely. He can’t think anymore. There’s darkness, soft and cold, gently creeping in around him like a low fog. It’s nice. He curls into himself.

He forces his eyes to fix on the man across the chamber. Voldemort’s face twists with pain as he writhes, gaze meeting his, incapacitated. The agony on his face is Regulus’s only relief. 

Regulus doesn't think he’s ever hated anyone as much as he hates the man he sees beneath the monster. He hates what he’s done, what he wants to do, what he’s turned Regulus into. Hates that he won't even get to witness his end. “See you soon.” Regulus breathes, choked and final. 

Then he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

He wishes he could save the world with curses, with spells, with any sort of fight. But he isn’t, and never will be, a hero. He doesn’t see anything through to its finish. Even here, even now, he’s leaving the rough work for someone else, making a mess he trusts Remus to clean up. He hopes it’s enough.

Distantly, he thinks he may feel a hand in his hair, gentle, and he wants to tell Remus that it’s alright. He’ll be okay. 

The darkness is back, all consuming. 

He hopes Evan is waiting for him. 

He hopes for a lot of things. 

He just wants to let go.

In and out. 

His chest, the last part of him that moves, rises and falls. Like the ocean. Like a wave. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

In and…

 

---

 

When Regulus’s hand falls from his chest onto the cold floor, Remus’s heart plummets to his stomach. He thinks it stops beating all together, actually. 

Everything goes still. 

He didn’t like Regulus. Not at first. He hated him for what he believed in, of course, but more so for what he did to Sirius. The scar he left across his chest and the scar he left across his mind. He thought the group was united in that, in their not-so-quiet disdain for the younger Black. And then James fell in love with him, and everything turned on its head. Remus was suddenly caught between being happy for his friend and righteously angry for his… whatever Sirius was to him back then. 

And it had continued like that for some time, the shift happening so slowly Remus didn’t even notice until one day he was looking at him and found there was no usual accompaniment of bitter anger. Maybe it was the astronomy classes. Maybe it was the look in James’s eyes when he talked about him. Maybe it was the humanity in Regulus’s words whenever they discussed Voldemort or his plans. 

Either way, somewhere along the line, Regulus turned from an enemy to a neutral party to an ally to a friend. 

And now Regulus isn’t breathing. 

I’m so fucking sorry James, is the only thought reverberating through Remus’s mind. I’m so sorry. 

Across the Chamber, Riddle roars with pain, falling the rest of the way to the floor. 

Remus should move. He should lift his wand. End this war. 

He can’t do anything but stare at Regulus’s face.

At his eyes, mercifully closed. At his lips, so like Sirius’s, painted with red that spills onto his chin and neck. At the soft curls sweeping across his forehead. 

Remus is used to pain, to gore, to blood. 

He isn’t used to death. 

There are no tears, not yet. He thinks it's shock, probably, or maybe hesitation. Maybe something in him knows this all needs to wait.

The Dark Lord lets out another bellow of agony, writhing.

“I won’t let this go to waste,” Remus had said. 

And here he is, wasting. 

He can’t let this creature take anyone else from him.

Every molecule of himself, every last shred of pain, of fear, of sadness, turns to fury in his blood. Icy and yet red hot, it burns like nothing he’s ever known. Across all the moons, all the cycles of fur and flesh, this emotion is by far the purest he’s felt. The wolf inside him agrees.

He raises his wand then, on his knees. His arm doesn’t shake, deathly still.

Remus Lupin understands monsters. He’s been one longer than he’s been anything else. 

And the one in front of him now- well. 

He knows exactly what to do with it. 

“Avada Kadavra-”

“Expelliarmus.” 

Voldemort, against all odds, has his wand raised and pointed directly at Remus. His face is pale and sweaty, still trembling from pain and exhaustion. Remus’s wand shoots from his hand, clattering on the other side of the chamber. Voldemort casts another curse wordlessly, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. He’s recovering, Remus realizes through his panic. The window in which he’s weakened is closing. He should’ve acted sooner.

He remembers what Regulus told him. 

It’s a stupid idea. Rash and faulty. 

Then again, rash and faulty ideas were what Regulus did best. 

He narrowly manages to avoid the curse Voldemort lobs at him, chalking his success up to the fact the man in front of him can’t aim quite right yet. But Remus doesn’t have a wand. He’s unarmed.

He has to try.

The Basilisk doesn’t know him, doesn’t care about him, but she did care for Regulus. 

“Saskia!” he yells, shouting to a void. Shouting to nothing except the faith that the boy lying cold in front of him once loved a snake. “Saskia, please.”

Voldemort raises his wand, eyes wild and unfocused. He’s clawing his way up, a feral, inhumane refusal to die pushing him forward.

There’s a rushing sound behind him, like scales on stone, reverberating through Remus’s bones. 

Voldemort shoots a curse, bright purple, directly at Remus. He can’t dodge, can only hope it isn’t fatal- because then there’s a gush of air behind him accompanied by a low and ancient hiss, as if the chamber itself is trembling with fury, and all Remus can do is throw himself forward, bending over his dead friend’s body and squeezing his eyes shut just as the curse leaves Voldemort’s wand. 

Many things happen at once. 

Above him a terrible creature surges, shooting out from the black, looming over him. This is the shadow that haunted Eden- and she’s come back for her dues. Serpentine eyes glint in the gloom, yellow and cruel. Eyes only for the man across the chamber, who can’t stop himself from raising his chin. 

The spell hits Remus in the head. The world blinks and fades in the time it takes for a heart to beat.

Somewhere in the darkness, two eyes meet, and the world is saved.

 

 

Notes:

heyyy gang
okay so thank god for my insane writing habits because I wrote this chapter and it was nearly 50k words... which wasn't gonna work so I split it in two! and now we can avoid the 69 chapters issue! Yay!
A lot happens in this one, so if you're still following amazing job. Sometimes I have no idea whats going on. Also I love having the battle and boring fighting be done by npcs. I hate writing action so much. Sorry if there aren't a lot of fight scenes. my bad folks, I just love emotional drama so much more. go read the books if you want the fighting.
The next one will be up very soon as it is mostly done. So. Yay. just keep your eyes on the no mcd tag and keep holding my hand and we'll get through this.