Meet Me at Midnight

by Speak_Cordially

Summary:

“So we’re saying things would get better for Regulus if he had a boyfriend? He’d be attacked less if he just walked the halls holding some poor bloke’s hand?” Sirius asked, clearly doing his best but still struggling a bit. James couldn’t blame him. Must be odd to talk about finding your recently un-estranged little brother a date.

“Exactly,” Remus confirmed.

“OK, but it’s not like we can just… get him a boyfriend. We don’t even know who we could ask,” Sirius said.

Peter blinked hard. “It’s a fake boyfriend though, innit?”

“Why would it be fake?” Sirius asked.

“ ‘Cause it’s got to be James, doesn’t it?”

OR

Regulus gets kicked out of Grimmauld Place for telling his mother he'd rather not marry as he rather likes men. He runs to the first person he can think of - his older brother. Except James bleeding Potter is the one who opens the door.

Chapter 1: you call at three am i'm picking up

Summary:

In which we meet James Potter and Regulus Black, and nobody is having a good night.

James Potter was many things. He was a Gryffindor. He was fantastic at Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was Sirius’ second brother. He was Remus’ best mate, and Remus was his. James Potter was, however, not someone who slept through the night. He’d been able to before, but since Dumbledore had started sending him and Sirius out, he’d struggled. Now, laying on his bed only a few days out of his sixth year of Hogwarts, he couldn’t decide if he wished he could sleep through the night again or not.

It was quiet. Quiet around him and throughout him, or at least, it was quieter than usual in his mind. Sometimes he wished he weren’t the only one who was awake at this hour. Sometimes, he got lonely. Sometimes he was grateful for it. In the quiet and lonely was increasingly where he found he could breathe. This night, he was lying on his back, looking at the ceiling, and listening to yet another storm stop and start, as it had a few times so far.

He did like listening to the summer storms, no question about that. He liked the steady fall of the rain on the roof, the rumble of thunder, and the crack of lightning. He felt quite at home in storms. He wondered a bit sometimes if his magic smelled like lightning and summer rain because he was already made of the stuff, or if his love for it all had influenced his magic. He was just deciding to go downstairs and give up on sleep for the next few hours when he heard a quiet knock. He might’ve thought it was tonight’s storm if the rain hadn’t just begun a brief pause.

James grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and cast about for some shirt or jumper, so he could see who had come to the house. He’d just found one that didn’t seem covered in some distressing amount of mud, blood, or some other spell or hex effect when another knock came. He grabbed the jumper and left his room, doing his best not to fall down the stairs as he tried to figure out if the jumper was inside out or not.

He was close to the door, arms through the sleeves, but nothing covering his chest or stomach, when a third knock came. James had meant to get the jumper fully on before opening the door, but the knock brought his hand to the door knob without further thought. He pulled the door towards himself on muscle memory as his free hand tried to get the jumper gathered in hand to pull over his head. He froze when the door swung wide, hands full of jumper and door knob.

Regulus Arcturus Black was at his door.

Regulus’ steely, cold eyes flicked down James’ body and James felt himself prickle a little in response against the judgemental look that seemed to increase with every new inch of his body Regulus saw. Regulus seemed relatively alright, apart from the aristocratic raised eyebrow and the snobbish twist of his lips. His hair was wet, weighing down his curls so that they clung to his face, droplets falling and making a few small ringlets bounce when the water fell. There was a bit of colour high in his cheeks that James didn’t like the look of. The Black he knew did not have a particularly strong constitution and he didn’t feel confident assuming the Black before him was at all stronger than his older brother.

Regulus also had a small cut along his left cheekbone, blood only just peeking out, skin darkening with bruises along the injury. James hated that it wasn’t his first time seeing an injury like this. If James had to guess, it was from Walburga’s back hand. She tended to wear multiple rings with large gems. The cut, the rain, and the fact that Regulus was still wearing some everyday robes (far too stuffy for James’ taste, but he recognized the style of Sirius’ wardrobe), and the fact that Regulus was here, not hexing him, led James’ harried mind to one conclusion. Regulus was here to ask for help.

Regulus didn’t say anything, just raised a single eyebrow after James failed to greet him for a few awkward moments.

“What are you doing here?” James asked, voice quiet and just a little croaking, mouth moving much faster than his mind did. He still hadn’t moved much, one arm nearly blocking his view with the still uncompleted journey of his jumper.

Regulus scoffed and turned. “Nothing, Potter. Forget I was ever here.”

“Well, wait,” James called.

Regulus took a step away, not waiting, and James somewhat gracefully fell through the doorway in his effort to reach out and stop him, arms still a little caught up in the jumper he had yet to pull over his head.

“Could you stop grabbing at me?” Regulus snapped as he side-stepped, leaving James to try and not introduce his face to the ground on his own.

“Could you stop walking away when I’m trying to talk to you?” James shot back once he’d regained his footing. He turned to look at Regulus, trapping the Slytherin between himself and his house.

“Forgive me for not wishing to be interrogated by a self-righteous, do-gooder who thinks himself better than us all, particularly myself, who so clearly needs to be saved.” Regulus crossed his arms and stared at James, looking to James very much like Sirius did whenever he and Remus had caught him doing something.

He looked, to James, very much like Sirius when he was scared, so James did his best to breathe deeply and remind himself, Regulus was here for help. There was no other reason for Regulus to be here. “I’m not interrogating. Just, I got hexed when I offered you to come, so what are you doing here?”

Regulus didn’t answer immediately. He looked to the side, giving James an even better look at the cut on the side of his face. For a brief moment, James was taken back to the night Sirius had stumbled in, drunk and covered in blood and bruises. His blood boiled just a little bit before he reminded himself this was Regulus, not Sirius. Still, his blood simmered, knowing a mother had hit her son.

Regulus’ arms wrapped around himself and tightened a bit, drawing in on himself. He didn’t look to be answering James’ question any time soon. James was not equipped for this. This was the kind of thing his mother was good at. She was the only person Sirius had let in his room for the first week here after all, so the solution was clear.

James just needed to get Regulus to meet Euphemia. Easy.

“Did you take the mark?” James asked, somewhat suddenly, the most important bit of information he needed to know before letting him inside as far as James was concerned.

“What?” Regulus asked, eyes snapping back towards James, narrow and discerning.

“The mark. Did you take it?”

“No, I- would you finish putting the bloody shirt on?”

James startled a little, remembered he was still holding the jumper up, half on and half off, and pulled it over his head. Once done he looked at Regulus expectantly, while adjusting his specs from the jostling the jumper had put them through.

“No, I don’t have the mark. I meant to take it, but everything fell apart before I could. They’ve stopped returning my-”

“Show me.” James knew that Regulus couldn’t actually lie to him on the porch. No one could lie to a Potter on the porch thanks to some ancient and dark blood magic according to his father. The Potters hadn’t always been blood traitors after all. James had tested it on Sirius a number of times, followed by Remus and then Peter, annoying his friends greatly. Even knowing it, James couldn’t find it in himself to stop seeing that cursed snake wriggling around on Regulus’ arm in his mind’s eye.

Thankfully, Regulus huffed but did extend his left arm and unbuttoned all along the sleeve, exposing more perfectly pale skin, unmarred by dark magic. James reached out, and when Regulus didn’t pull away, ran his palm along the skin, letting his magic seep out, searching for dark magic, searching for something that could be hiding the insidiousness he’d been fighting for too long. A part of him hated that he knew exactly what dark magic felt like, but most of him was relieved in this moment. It didn’t take too long for him to decide Regulus was clean. Regulus shivered a bit when James pulled away.

“Sorry, cold?” James asked reflexively.

“No, I- your magic.”

“My magic?”

“It’s not cold, it’s- no matter. It only surprised me a bit,” Regulus explained haltingly, slowly pulling his sleeve back down and looking away, once more letting James focus on the cut and not his eyes.

James watched as blood started to creep down Regulus’s cheek, bright against his skin. He tracked the progress of it for a few moments before he realised Regulus would not be offering more of an explanation. Whatever, next most important thing for James to ask: “Are you here to kill or hurt anyone who lives here? Burn my house down?”

Regulus froze before a sneer twisted face. “Honestly, Potter? You honestly believe-”

“The Deatheaters still have active factions, your Dark Lord is still alive, everyone has spies, and several people want Sirius and I dead now on top of my parents being established blood traitors. I cannot simply let you in my home no questions asked.” James interrupted Regulus’ outrage before he could truly get started, something he was used to in regards to Sirius.

“Do you actually-”

“Yes, I do actually believe people want me dead. They’ve screamed it at mine and Sirius’ face, and no, I don’t actually think you’re here for that. I just need to ask, and I need you to answer. Will you?”

Regulus breathed out harshly and his shoulders dropped a little. “No. I am not here to harm anyone or burn your bloody precious house down.”

“Alright then. Fancy a cup of tea?”

“Sorry?”

“I was about to make myself some tea. Do you want some?” James asked again, slower and enunciating every syllable, too used to needing to slow himself down for others to consider that Regulus’ confusion was due to anything else.

“You’re just… going to make me tea now? After accusing me of murder?”

“Murderous intentions, and I didn’t actually accuse you. Tea?”

“I- You- This is- What?”

James shrugged. “I want tea.”

Regulus stared at him, arms still somewhat wrapped around himself but much looser now, eyes wide and disbelieving.

James shrugged again after a quiet moment before turning to look up at the sky from under the porch roof. The sky, obliging, gave a quiet rumble of threatening thunder. “Suppose you could always stand out here. If you like being cold and drenched.”

He stepped around Regulus to the front door, keeping an eye on him from the corner of his vision. It wasn’t until James was slowly letting the door close behind him that Regulus moved, catching the door and slipping in behind him, his sleeve buttoned back up. He followed James closely, steps light and quiet. James clicked on the kitchen light and moved through the room. Lists of things he needed to do automatically flooding his mind. He needed to fill the kettle first.

Once done, he placed the kettle back on the ceramic tile it usually lived on, though his mother complained that it really shouldn’t, that it would damage the magic eventually. James had yet to see any kind of damage done to the charms on the kettle or the tile, but he wasn’t the best at household charmwork. He murmured the charm to activate the tile and begin the water in the kettle heating then the charm that allowed the kettle to keep the water warm once it reached temperature. He turned to the leaves next and found Regulus out of the corner of his eye, still simply lurking in the doorway.

“You can sit,” James called quietly, gesturing at one of the kitchen chairs, before completing his little journey to the counter where they kept the tea tins. “Don’t go stomping or shouting about, but Sirius and my parents sleep pretty heavily. They shouldn’t come down here if you’re worried about it.”

“Sirius is a light sleeper. All the Blacks are. We always have been,” Regulus refuted, still standing, arms still crossed, and blood still bright against his cheek, though it seemed to be starting to congeal now, journey downwards halted and darkening with every passing moment.

James shrugged again and pulled his tea tins forward, too caught between his impulses and what he was taught to do much else. His impulse was to yell at Regulus. His impulse was to be mad that Regulus was being so bloody difficult despite having so clearly come here for help. His impulse was to yell and throw curse after curse in his direction, letting too many years of animosity between their Houses and too many horrible sights from the past year overrule his logic.

What he’d been taught was to treat his guests with dignity and honour. He’d been taught to be kind, giving, compassionate. He’d been taught to look deeper than what he initially saw, what he initially felt from his mother. He’d been taught courtesy and noble manners from his pureblood and wealthy father despite Sirius’ first assumption that actually nice pureblood families had done away with all manner of formality and propriety.

So, unable to yell and unable to treat Regulus with the kindness and dignity he was likely owed, James had shrugged and made tea. This was apparently the wrong thing to do as far as Regulus was concerned.

“Stop shrugging at me,” Regulus hissed. “Shrugging is not a viable form of communication. Speak words or walk away.”

“My kitchen. You walk away,” James retorted without thought.

“Fine.”

“Black,” James called immediately before sighing, looking down at his tins, not back at Regulus. “Just sit down. Do you want tea or not?”

“Tea that’s likely poisoned? No, thanks. Forget I was ever-”

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he called firmly. He turned around to face Regulus, leaning back against the counter as Regulus turned back towards James from where he’d been turned towards the door, everything in his body pulled taut.

James knew Regulus was probably scared. He knew Regulus probably needed help. He knew he should probably be gentler, but he’d sort of run out of the patience for that. “Sirius ran here when he could no longer live at Grimmauld Place. I told you you could as well. Now, you’re here in the middle of the night, wet from the rain, cut still bloody on your cheek, and you want to yell at me about shrugging? Really?”

Regulus blinked a few times before he reached up to touch his cheek and pulled the fingers away, now bright red.

“Look, Sirius didn’t tell me what had happened for weeks. I damn well don’t expect better from you. So, if you could just stop being so damn pissy, accept some Merlin forsaken tea, and tell me what the hell you’re here for, I’d bloody well appreciate it.”

James turned back to the counter and finally opened the tin he wanted, slamming the lid on the counter a touch too aggressively, without waiting for a response. He looked inside to make sure there were bags prepared for them. He heard a chair move as he retrieved two cups and two saucers from the cabinet just above. The tile let out a gentle, little tune, signalling that it had heated the kettle. He reached for the kettle without looking and hissed when his hand ran into the side of the thing instead of the handle.

“Idiot,” Regulus called quietly.

“Shut it,” James returned easily. He shook his hand out a bit before reaching again, watching this time. He poured the water over the bags he’d placed in the cups and returned the kettle to the tile, murmuring another charm to stop the tile from heating the kettle further. He swiped his finger over the little script on the silver tea tray to activate the enchantment, summoning the pitcher of milk that belonged to the set. The little pitcher immediately frosted as it rested next to the small containers of sugar and honey.

“Where’s your wand?” Regulus asked just as James said another charm to get the tray to float levelly over to the table. He followed behind it with hands full, trying to balance two cups full of hot water, tea bags and their little spoons.

“Oh, my room, like as not. Though I have left it in the family room before.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ll find it before I need it.”

“Reckless.”

James shrugged. “Gryffindor.”

Regulus clenched his jaw, and James smiled at him, enjoying the way it made a muscle in Regulus’ jaw tick. He watched as Regulus breathed out and picked up the cup. He brought a spoonful of extremely weak tea to his lips, blew on it and sipped at it, testing the flavour James figured. Regulus’ face didn’t change much before he returned the spoon to his cup and added two spoonfuls of sugar. He began to stir and watched James who sort of wished he knew if Regulus liked the tea or not.

James kept watching Regulus as he stirred his tea, gentle and constant, sure to keep the spoon from the edges so as to make no sound. Regulus’ eyes were on the tea as he stirred.

“You know, I didn’t offer you to follow your brother here because I wanted you to, or because I thought you’d want to. I didn’t think you needed saving,” James said suddenly as his mind went back over what had happened out on the porch. He leaned forward to add his standard amount of honey and milk to his cup.

Regulus looked up, still absent-mindedly stirring.

“Sirius and I were quite sure you were happy where you were, even if you were on the wrong side of things.”

“So why did you then? Just feeling extra prickish that day?”

“I asked because my mum had a room made up for you once we were certain Sirius was staying with us,” James asked, doing his best to keep himself calm despite Regulus’ lashing out.

“She what?”

James shrugged again just to watch that muscle in Regulus’ jaw twitch. “Sirius and I tried to talk her out of it. She wouldn’t be dissuaded. Something about every child deserving a safe home or some such thing.”

“My home is safe,” Regulus replied indignantly, spine straightening and something stoic and refined slipping over his face despite the cut somewhat marring the picture of a proud, noble son.

“Then why aren’t you in it?” James asked and sipped at his tea, just on the hot side of comfortable, not burning himself for once.

Regulus stared at him, grey eyes burning and jaw clenched. He was still stirring his tea.

“Tell me why you’re here,” James tried.

“I need a place to stay. For the night.” Regulus’ voice was tight as he explained, gaze finally lowering back down to his tea.

“Why aren’t you at a friend’s place? You do have friends, don’t you?” James sort of regretted the tease the moment it left his mouth. He was meant to be treating his guest well, not needling Sirius’ annoying and somewhat evil little brother. He couldn’t completely regret it though, especially when he noticed Regulus’ grip on his spoon tightened just the smallest amount and the muscle in his jaw twinged again.

“I have friends, Potter. I just-” he swallowed and looked to the side, head ducking. “If my mother talks to their parents…”

“She found out something about you that goes against your pureblood ways,” James said with a quiet, dawning understanding. “You’ve done something to go against your family? What happened to toujours pur?”

Regulus remained quiet, head down.

James sighed. The course of action he should take was set out quite clearly before him. He just didn’t like it much. “Well, you can stay here as long as you need. Provided you don’t start going about trying to kill muggles.”

“I’m not- We’re not just going about killing every muggle we bloody well see.” Regulus started, indignant and looking ready to launch into a whole recruitment speech it would seem. “It’s not about that. It’s about-”

“Stop talking, Black,” James interrupted, probably too harshly. “I don’t care what you think it’s about at the moment. You’re in trouble. You came here for help. Don’t make it impossible for me to offer it to you.”

“If you don’t want to help me, you can-”

“No, I actually can’t. I cannot simply turn you away.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just - because I’m James Potter and you’re Regulus Black.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Potter.”

“That doesn’t make it less true. I cannot deny you help anymore than I could deny anyone else. It’s not who I am.” James tried to explain calmly, but he watched the anger that had been swimming in Regulus’ eyes build to a peak.

“I hate you.” Regulus said it like it was a threat, his frame tense and grey eyes hot like fresh steel, untold fire just boiling underneath and ready to be set free.

“Right,” James agreed, unimpressed and mildly confused though curious where Regulus was going with this.

“You’re a terrible wizard that doesn’t deserve half of what you’ve received. You go around thinking you’re better than everyone else, and I cannot stand it!” Regulus slammed his hand into the table as he stood. “You took my brother from me and if I had anywhere else to be, I’d be there!” Regulus was nearly shouting by the end, eyes up and hard, boring into James’. James could only hope nobody had heard him.

“Then go,” James whispered. “If you hate me so much, then go, but let’s be clear. I did not take your brother. Your parents drove him away, and you watched it happen.”

Regulus was already standing, but he didn’t back away from the table. He was shaking, James realised. He wanted to feel sorry for Regulus in this moment, but it was inaccessible to him.

“If you hate me so much, you must’ve had a damn good reason for coming here for help.”

“I came because-” Regulus stopped himself, grey eyes wide and a bit wild. He was breathing hard though he still hadn’t moved.

James took another drink of tea, waiting.

The room was quiet for a little while, James watching Regulus as he shook slightly in place and looked all over the kitchen. James was content to wait for Regulus to stop panting, for his body to relax a bit, for the fight to go out of him. If Regulus wanted a fight, James wouldn’t be giving him one. Not tonight. Finally, Regulus’ shoulders slumped and his head dropped.

“Look, can I stay here or not?” He asked, voice low and slower than before, exhaustion appearing to weigh everything down.

“I’ll show you to your room.” James stood. “Bring your tea. Be a shame to let it go to waste.”

James began walking without looking back, trusting that Regulus would either leave or follow behind. He didn’t turn back around until he was before the door with a little gold sign hung on the front that read R.A.B. He turned to see Regulus looking at the sign, face carefully free of just about any emotion. He opened the door and stood aside so Regulus could look in.

“The walls are green,” Regulus said quietly as he moved to stand next to James.

“Like I said, she had it made up for you. She didn’t know much about you, and all we could come up with was that you were Slytherin. She looked for a shade close to your House colours that she actually liked for far too long. I think she just ended up charming the walls, so sorry if they go a bit wonky at some point.” James knew he’d said too much, he said too much a lot, but Regulus was still just staring at the walls.

“Why would she-”

“I don’t know. My mother is a saint among women, or possibly I get my self-righteous arrogance and desire to save anyone and everyone from her. Either way, this is yours. Sleep well. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Regulus stepped forward, into the room and looked around a bit.

James began to close the door before Regulus stopped him, calling to him with the softest voice James had ever heard come out of him.

“Potter.”

“Yes?”

“Sirius?” Regulus looked up at him, and for the first time that night, James knew Regulus was scared. Standing in a room that was and wasn’t his, James finally saw a scared sixteen-year-old that didn’t know what he was going to do or what was going to happen. James softened slightly in response.

“I don’t have to tell him right away if you’d prefer.” He offered like an olive branch.

“I- I’d appreciate that, James. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

James shut the door and paused for a moment, hand once more lingering on a door knob that would lead to Regulus Black. He didn’t let himself stall for too long, things would get awkward if literally anyone in this house found him standing outside this room. He made his way back to the kitchen to clean up the evidence, more lists coming to mind.

He liked making lists. They kept everything orderly and kept him focused on what it was he was supposed to do next. He’d had a rather bad habit of getting himself lost no matter where he was or what he was doing before he’d started making his lists. Now they were second nature.

Empty the kettle. Put the tray back. Return the little milk pitcher. Put the lid back on the tea bag tin. Put the tea bag tin back where it was supposed to go up against the wall and under a cabinet. Put the cup in the sink.

Except, this was a list he’d made dozens of times before. This was a list that did not demand much of his attention, to create or adhere to, so other errant thoughts infiltrated the space between the lines.

He’d thought his mother was insane when she’d insisted on making that room. He and Sirius had contemplated sabotaging it, rigging it in case Regulus ever did end up using it. Thankfully, they’d decided it against it as they figured it would only hurt Euphemia in the long run.

Regulus Arcturus Black was in his house. James leaned forward, hands flat on the kitchen counter, everything back in its rightful place now. He’d opened the door to Regulus Arcturus Black dripping rain water onto his porch. He felt like there was a riot inside him, too many different thoughts and feelings all yelling at him from all angles.
He shouldn’t have let him in. He should’ve been nicer. He should’ve gotten more out of him. He should go in there and throw him out. He should lock him in there and never let him back out, never give him the opportunity to go back to the Deatheaters, to a woman unfit to be a mother on every level. He should just turn into a stag and live the rest of his days out in the damn woods, never have to deal with any of this ever again.

James pushed away from the counter after a few moments. He’d stood in the kitchen contemplating his life choices enough. He could do this just as well lying in bed. Before he climbed back up to his room, he found a piece of paper and scrawled a quick note to his mother: ‘Regulus in his room.’ He slipped it under the door to her bedroom and then finally, finally fell back into his bed. He smiled when he heard the storm start back up again just in time to help lull him back to sleep.

Notes:

Hiya - welcome to my first fic here. (Let me know as we go if the tags should be different and such.) I do have a rough outline for this (I don't think it'll be short) but nothing really specific and definitely no publishing schedule. I'll do my best to update at least semi-regularly, but you have all been warned.

Chapter 2: i think i've seen this film before

Summary:

In which Regulus tries to come up with a plan.

Regulus Arcturus Black was a good son. He was the Black heir now, and he was determined to make his family proud. He’d done everything that was expected of him. He’d become a Slytherin as Sirius had been meant to do, as all Blacks had before him. He’d studied well and received outstanding’s on nearly all his O.W.L.s. He’d joined the Slug Club, no matter how odious he may find the man, and curried favour with anyone who seemed the slightest bit important. He’d sought out knowledge, pulling from the restricted section often, and cultivated his power. Because Regulus Arcturus Black was unafraid to work for his achievements, as many as he’d decided he was to achieve, and he’d decided to achieve many. He was the Slytherin Seeker, and had been since second year, because he was, and had been, the undisputed best . 

When they wrote of Regulus Black, everyone would know it was him . Not his grandfather, or great uncle, or anyone else because he was the one who had accomplished more than any Black before him. It didn’t matter that his first plan had fallen apart spectacularly. It didn’t matter that he’d thought it recoverable until the Dark Lord had been captured and held. He still had plans, goals, things to achieve. He was rather good at plans.

He just needed a new plan.

Standing in the middle of a room that was apparently his after listening to James bloody Potter walk away, he wasn’t sure what kind of plan he could fashion. He was only certain that he would fashion a plan. He had to. He had no other option. He was Regulus Arcturus Black. He could still be the heir his parents deserved. He could prove it without his family’s power and wealth. He was powerful on his own. He was intelligent and organised. He could do this.

He set his admittedly decent tea down on a (his?) desk and sat on the (his?) bed. He stared down at his hands, the same hands he’d had all his life. He still wore the Black family ring on his right pinky, an eleventh birthday present so that he’d have it for Hogwarts. He remembered how happy he’d been when he received it. It hadn’t been a surprise. Sirius had received the same thing on his eleventh birthday. Regulus had been so proud of himself, of finally accomplishing the first task to become a man in the Ancient and Noble House of Black. He never took it off. He carried his family with him everywhere. They were in everything he did, always had been. 

Did he still have a family?

He shook his head at himself. Now was not the time for getting sentimental about inanimate hunks of metal. Now was the time for planning. Making plans was easy. It didn’t even have to be a complicated plan. He just needed a place to stay, a place that wasn’t here. He didn’t want to spend a single second in this house that he didn’t have to. Then he could work on the plan to get his family back.

He looked up at the wall across from the bed. The room was dark despite the soft golden glow from some charms spread throughout the room. He hadn’t looked to the ceiling yet, but he knew the charms were concentrated up there. He could just faintly feel the magic hanging above him. The little balls of light seemed to gather in the crease where the walls met the ceiling before lazily dripping down the wall, fading out at around waist height for Regulus. It was gentle, unfamiliar magic.

Regulus stood up. He couldn’t stay here. What was he doing? A rumble of thunder sounded and he heard the rain start up again against his window, currently covered by thick curtains that he thought seemed green in the low light. 

The rain couldn’t matter. He had to get out of here, before they worked any charms on him. He opened his mouth to call for Kreacher, his constant helpmate, to aid him once more, but no sound escaped him.

He sat back down heavily, weak against the weight suddenly invading him.

Kreacher.

Regulus had to repress the distinctly child-like feeling of wanting his House Elf. If he called for him, would Kreacher even come? Would he be allowed to come? Regulus felt tears finally begin to gather at the thought, his heart gone cold and hollow feeling, and wasn’t that just insult to injury? He’d lost his mother, his family, been turned into a beggar on the Potter’s doorstep, and he’d borne it all. The simple realisation that his favourite servant might not answer his call anymore had been the thing to squeeze his heart, make his blood run cold.

He hadn’t thought Kreacher could turn into something that felt so like betrayal. Of course, Kreacher had never been entirely simple for Regulus. Besides Sirius, Kreacher had been the closest thing to a friend to Regulus until he was eleven. Naturally, his tutors had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t to call or even think of Kreacher as a friend. It was highly inappropriate to think of a servant that way, let alone a House Elf who did not possess enough intelligence to even properly understand friendship.

Still, Regulus had never been able to fully set it aside. Kreacher had been loyal. He’d done things for Regulus without Regulus asking for them. Especially after Sirius had been corrupted, and he’d stopped being Regulus’ big brother. Regulus looked back to his hands, to his ring. Was he still a Black? Had his mother already burned his face off the tapestry?

No, he reminded himself. He needed to focus on finding a place to stay until term started. He couldn’t stay here, but where could he go? What kind of plan could he make? Could his mother be reasoned with? He brought his hands up to his face and winced a little when his fingers brushed against his cut and the thick, sticky blood congealing there. Right, his mother had slapped him just like she used to slap Sirius when he was being particularly disgraceful and unreasonable. Perhaps she needed more time. Grimmauld Place was inadvisable at the moment, he decided. 

He couldn’t trust that any of his death eater contacts would be where he believed them to be, or that they’d take him in without the backing of his family. After all, the movement hadn’t used him for him . They hadn’t used his skills though he’d tried to offer them. They’d used his resources, his name. The Dark Lord had mentioned wanting to use Kreacher for something before everything had gone awry.

Regulus sighed and fell back on his bed, hands still covering his face. He was going in circles, tying his thoughts into knots. He generally liked knots and puzzles. He liked figuring things out, taking things apart to understand their purpose and how he could best use them himself. It was how he approached life. Everything was only a knot to unravel. Every problem could be solved and turned into a tool for his own gain.

He suddenly felt all his knots, trusted things he brought everywhere with him mentally, looping around him, pinning his arms down, crushing his chest, wrapping tightly around his throat. All of them now heavy and seemingly unsolvable. This room was a knot. James Potter and his bloody tea were knots, incomprehensible as they were. Kreacher had become a knot somehow, heavy on his throat. His mother was a knot. And the one he’d carried the longest, since he was ten at least, pressed achingly against his heart as it usually did.

Sirius.

Why had Regulus run to Sirius? He could’ve tried Evan, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure how Evan’s father would react. He couldn’t count on almost anyone else from Slytherin. He hadn’t proved himself to be useful apart from his means yet. Perhaps Dorcas, but he and Dorcas weren’t close enough for him to turn up on her doorstep drenched and bleeding in the middle of the night. He almost laughed at himself. He and Dorcas were far closer than he and Sirius were.

Though, he realised, not nearly as close as he and Sirius had once been.

He still remembered the Sirius from before the fall, the golden days of their childhood. It had been him and Sirius against the world. Him and Sirius in lessons with tutors once they were four and five. Sirius defending him when the tutors were displeased with his rate of progress. Him covering for Sirius when he began causing trouble. It had only been a little trouble at first; trouble with tutors Regulus could actually cover for. He’d never been able to cover for him against their parents’ - their mother’s - punishments.

Looking back, that might’ve begun the Sirius knot in his mind, the first question about his brother he couldn’t answer. Why would Sirius keep causing trouble? He knew Sirius was often bored. Sirius often understood what the tutors were teaching seemingly the moment they spoke it, and Sirius never blamed Regulus for demanding more of the tutor’s attention. He only helped Regulus where he could, not totally patient, but unbelievably stubborn. Sirius had insisted time and again that he could and would help Regulus with anything. They were brothers. They needed to stick together because they could overcome anything so long as they were together. That was what Sirius had said anyways.

They’d been called twins a few times back when they were little, and Regulus had always felt the warm swell of pride when it happened. It had been Sirius’ favourite joke for a year, walking up to anyone, mostly their own relatives, and asking could you tell them apart? They’d flown their little practice brooms a few feet off the ground, weaving through a pretend course and chasing after handicapped snitches. They’d been brothers. They’d been friends.

Then Sirius had gone to Hogwarts. Regulus remembered writing to Dumbledore, asking if he could bend the rules just this once and let Regulus come early. He would work hard, and he wouldn’t fall behind in his studies. He swore it. He remembered Sirius consoling him when Dumbledore had written back to say he couldn’t bend the rules for anyone, but he’d been sure Sirius would be overjoyed to show Regulus everything he’d learned in that one year they’d be separated.

Regulus wished he could go back and tell himself not to bother, to save his tears. Sirius, his brother, had been gone the moment the train had pulled out of the station. First, Sirius had written to Regulus before their parents to tell him he’d been sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin. That was when Sirius had begun calling him mon coeur. Sirius was a lion now, after all. It had warmed him after the initial flash freeze of fear from the news. It was reassuring. They were still brothers. His parents had assured him that any changes in Sirius would be due to Sirius trying to survive. He was only pretending. It was what Sirius would have to do.

Then Sirius’ letters had begun to be about his roommates rather than the magic he was learning. Mostly they were about his new best friend and Gryffindor extraordinaire, James Potter. James bloody Potter. The one who would sink his stupid lion’s claws into Sirius and turn him against his family. The first sign of trouble as his parents would later call it. Associating with blood traitors. It could only lead to scandal and ruin. It hadn’t been too much longer after that that Regulus had noticed a real change in Sirius’ letters.

He began to mention muggles. He talked about muggles like they were… intelligent and contributing members of society. He wrote about Peter Pettigrew, his smallest roommate who Sirius wasn’t completely certain why he’d been sorted into Gryffindor, a Scottish half-blood whose father - a muggle - had abandoned him and his mother before Peter was born. He wrote about Remus Lupin, his mysterious roommate who was the only person he’d met to have as strange a name as everyone from their family, a Welsh half-blood. Sirius had gushed a little about Lyall Lupin, an excellent curse breaker and the father of Remus who had taken a position with the Ministry.

His mother had not been similarly taken by Mr. Lupin, a well-born wizard who’d fallen prey to the muggle-centric propaganda that had been circulating and gone and married one. She’d corrected Regulus when he mentioned Sirius’ new friends. Half-bloods were as good as mud-bloods as far as she was concerned. The tutors Regulus had asked about it had largely agreed. A few had held opinions that perhaps muggle-borns need not be so heavily persecuted, but Regulus hadn’t seen them again afterwards. Fired for incompetence, his mother had explained.

It was the first time he remembered being worried for his brother. Was Sirius really so gullible as to be taken in the first time he left home? Sirius, though a troublemaker, had been a proud and powerful heir. He’d spent his first letter to their parents detailing all the skills he could gain from the Gryffindors and how they could help him be an even better son and heir. Their family had grown too set in their ways he’d explained, and this way he could breathe new life into the most Noble and Ancient House of Black. He was still Sirius Black. He was someone their mother had believed in, even if she was often irritated by him. 

It wasn’t until it was night and Regulus was curled up in bed, looking over the letters that Regulus was able to name the swirling feeling that had been brewing in his chest. It had grown with every letter sent, every time Sirius praised Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew. It had grown every time Sirius’ response to the letters Regulus sent back was delayed more and more. He still believed in Sirius, that Sirius was coming back to them. Did Sirius no longer believe in them?

The following year, Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin, much to their parents’ joy. He’d been proud to uphold the family legacy, and he’d turned to Sirius, happy that he could work with him to bring that change, the new strength to their family. Sirius working with the new and Regulus strengthening the old would make them the perfect pair. Sirius had only smiled faintly at him, clapping looking reflexive, the boys Regulus could only assume were James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin had stilted smiles on too.

Sirius had still been friendly at the start, smiling at him from across the Great Hall over breakfast, waving in the halls when they saw each other. Sometimes they would meet up in the library to go over their notes, study together like they used to. Potter, Pettigrew and Lupin, he’d quickly realised, were like shadows to his older brother. Likely drawn to his greatness, present and future, Regulus had assumed.

He’d quickly disliked Potter, all loud arrogance. He was mean too, jinxing others and laughing about it. He even jinxed other purebloods, particularly Slytherins, for no discernable reason. Potter was not drawn to Sirius’ greatness. Clearly, he believed he was great enough on his own. It didn’t help that Potter knew exactly how powerful he was.

Is it arrogant if I’m right? 

He and Regulus’ house mate, Severus Snape, seemed to already be locked in some sort of ongoing feud with Potter mostly having fun while causing harm and Severus mostly trying to defend himself. Well, that’s what it had been at the start. By winter break, Severus had begun bragging in the common room about his plans to retaliate, ways to make the spells they were taught harsher, crueller. Severus was someone Regulus had quickly identified as a person to look out for. Though he was only a half-blood, Regulus could see the makings of something great and powerful swimming in the dark depths of the boy’s eyes.

Pettigrew and Lupin had been easily ignored. They were quiet, Pettigrew a clear enough hanger on in Regulus’ eyes. Lupin though had a bad habit of trying to correct Regulus when he was in no position to do so. He was a mud-blood, clearly inferior to Regulus. It wasn’t proper for him to be butting in on his and Sirius’ studying sessions, and it was even more improper for him to be trying to correct Regulus’ wand movements when he hadn’t been asked. That honestly should’ve been a bigger warning to Regulus that he was losing his brother than it was. Sirius listened to Lupin and let him pretend like he could boss Regulus around. Even worse, Sirius let Lupin boss him around.

Around March was when he’d really noticed a change. Sirius, though rarely on his own before, was never seen alone again. If he saw Sirius in the library, it was with Potter or sometimes Pettigrew at his side, noses in books, running to and from shelves. Regulus was always waved off. Sirius said they were busy. If Regulus saw him in the hall, Sirius had his head ducked against either Potter or Pettigrew, whispering something, or he was laughing with Lupin, too close for Regulus’ comfort. It didn’t look like he was pretending anymore, if he ever had been.

He remembered the day he realised Sirius had been taken from him. It was July. Sirius had started yet another shouting match with their parents. Regulus hadn’t known what it was about. He’d only heard their voices raising and raising until he’d heard the sharp sound of his mother slapping Sirius. A muggle punishment befitting how low he was placing himself, his mother had once said. Regulus had still winced in sympathy back then. He’d waited maybe half an hour for Sirius to calm down before crossing the hall and opening the door Sirius had slammed again.

Sirius had been sitting at his desk, quill moving furiously across his parchment. Then he’d made a low noise of frustration before crumpling the parchment and throwing it to the floor. Regulus tried for a moment to count the pieces now littering the floor before he gave up and looked to his brother, once more attempting to write something.

“You’re going to break your quill like that.”

Sirius had jumped a little before glancing over his shoulder at Regulus. “Merlin, Reggie, announce yourself.”

“Fairly certain I just did,” Regulus had retorted with a smile.

Sirius had laughed a little before setting his quill down. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“What’s got you so worked up anyways?” Regulus had asked as he walked into the room and sat on Sirius’ bed.

“Just the usual.” Sirius had been at odds with their parents enough at that point, just out of Sirius’ third year, for Regulus to understand his meaning.

“I don’t know why you keep picking fights with them.”

“Is it picking a fight to want to go on hols with my mates?”

Regulus hadn’t said anything in response, only picking up a Gryffindor scarf laying on the bed. He’d wondered a little if their scarves were the same, just different colours.

“I mean, I knew they wouldn’t let me go, but damn it I hoped they would,” Sirius had continued, a little quieter now.

“Evan mentioned going on hols to Italy this August. Maybe we can go with him,” Regulus had offered. The material of the scarf had felt the same, if maybe a little softer, a little more worn. He’d supposed that made sense. Sirius had had his for longer than Regulus had had his.

“Evan?”

“Rosier. He’s in my year?” He’d brought the scarf up to his nose when he felt magic lingering in the fabric, prickling at his hands. He still remembered what it had smelled like, like a forest in a summer rain, at once familiar and foreign. There was a little of Sirius’ mint mixed in, but it was fairly faint compared to what magic seemed to have been imbued, perhaps almost intentionally?

“I was hoping you didn’t mean him.”

Regulus had looked at him, at the hardness creeping into Sirius’ voice. “He’s my friend.”

“You should get new friends.”

“Maybe you should get new friends if you can’t even go on hols with them,” Regulus defended.

“My friends are not the problem. Mum and Dad are.”

“Maybe they’re not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I get it’s probably been confusing, living with them, having to pretend they’re right, but Mum and Dad are just looking out for you. They-” Regulus tried making his voice gentle, tried to help Sirius understand that this was still home, Regulus was still his brother.

“Pretend they’re right?” Sirius had cut in, his anger burning away at his magic, turning it bitter. “Right about what exactly?”

“Just that we’re equal with them and-”

“We are equal with them, mon cœur. C’est vrai.”

“I know it’s been confusing for you, but that’s not true, Sirius,” Regulus tried again, trying to be patient.

“I’m not confused, Reggie. Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. Come on, Sirius. You can stop pretending now. You’re safe here. It’s just us.”

“Pretending? Safe here? You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea-”

“Don’t act like I’m stupid. I know enough. I know the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

“That they’re beneath us. Uncivilised.”

“They?”

“You know, your roommates, the mud-bloods. They-”

“Get out,” Sirius had whispered the command. It had been the first time Regulus had been scared of his brother.

“What? Sirius, I-”

“Get out, Regulus!”

And Regulus had, Sirius slamming the door on him for the first time. Nothing had been the same after that. The screaming had only grown, in frequency and intensity. Generally, Regulus tried not to listen to them. It didn’t help anything. It never took them long to just start hurling insults at each other, no longer truly arguing about anything.

Sirius had stopped talking to Regulus as much, but the real end to their relationship had been the summer before Regulus’ fourth year. It had been the first plan he’d had that fell apart so spectacularly, the plan to get Sirius back. He’d thought Sirius wasn’t truly lost to them until one day, Regulus had found himself standing with his parents and Sirius was set against them with all the fiery stubbornness he’d always had.

Regulus’ last attempt to bring Sirius back had apparently been Sirius’ last straw. He’d brought one of the articles about the wizard called Lord Voldemort. Mum and Dad had praised him and his ideologies, finally someone with some sense they’d said. Regulus had read up on him, maybe a little desperate to bring honour back to the name Sirius had basically made a game of disgracing. He’d found the Dark Lord intelligent and persuasive. He was finally the voice of reason his parents had been asking for. Regulus believed in him, in his ability to set the wizarding world right again, so much that he believed Sirius would have to see reason. If he’d just read the article, he was certain of it. He’d get his brother back.

Sirius had barely looked at the paper before he’d looked up at Regulus, eyes cold and blank. He’d asked Regulus a single question, voice just as cold as his expression. It was the first time Regulus could remember his brother looking so much like his father. “You support him? Like them?”

“Yes, I do. Sirius, if you would just-” Regulus stopped talking as he watched the paper he’d handed Sirius somewhat suddenly burst into flame. Sirius dropped it, letting it burn as it drifted to the floor. Regulus watched it, unable to understand. By the time the paper, already half burned away, hit the floor and Regulus looked up, the door to Sirius’ room was already shut, not slammed. By the next year, Sirius would be gone and his face on the tapestry the one on fire.

They’d barely exchanged five words that weren’t hexes in the constant duels they found themselves in at school after that.

So why had Regulus come here?

Did he want to unravel that knot?

Did he even want to try?

Regulus sighed and took his hands from his face. Maybe the ceiling would hold some answers.

He immediately laughed and felt the tears he’d conjured for Kreacher fall down, tracking down the sides of his face. The ceiling held no answers.

It only held stars. His stars. The family stars. Just like the ones Sirius had put up for him after his second year, a sort of promise that even if they were in different houses, they’d always have a home in the Heavens together.

Without looking, he knew exactly where he’d find Sirius, Orion, Bellatrix, and Cygnus. He wondered if Sirius had had room to put up Andromeda. Regulus was pretty sure Sirius wouldn’t care she’d been disowned. He certainly hadn’t before.

Regulus closed his eyes again before working his way further onto the bed. He needed sleep. He could go back to knot picking and plan making when the sun had risen and the stars had faded.

 

When he woke up, the first thing Regulus did was wonder where exactly he was. He wasn’t surrounded by his family’s magic anymore, he knew that much. Then he wondered why he felt so stiff, why his feet felt so pinched. Had he slept in his boots? He opened his eyes and his confusion only grew for a moment. The star charms glimmering in the low light on the ceiling were familiar, but they weren’t arranged the way they should be. Regulus was just above him rather than Sirius. Then he remembered where he was, what had happened.

He looked around his room, which he hadn’t bothered much with the night before. It was a nice room. A much nicer room than he’d imagined the Potters having and definitely nicer than a room he might’ve thought they’d make up for him. He was honestly having a little trouble reconciling the woman who had raised James and taken in Sirius with the woman who had apparently put together such a room.

As he got up, put his feet on the floor, the room grew brighter and brighter. He looked to the side to find sunlight slowly being allowed to invade the room. The thicker curtains were being cinched in towards the wall slowly, from the bottom up, letting the sunlight come in through the gauzy white curtains still hanging in front of the glass little by little. 

The walls that he could now see much more clearly were beautiful. They were a lovely, deep shade of green. If Potter hadn’t said, he would’ve assumed they were charmed. They weren't all one solid colour. He turned from the window to look at the Western wall. The more light that came in, the more he could see that the wall turned nearly blue in some places, mostly by the floor and to the left, the wall his bed was pushed against. If he looked forward as he had last night to see the bookshelf and wardrobe, he could see the wall skewed more yellow, again concentrating more in the right corner where the Northern wall met the Eastern wall.  

He stood and moved closer to the Western wall first to get a better look at it. For a moment he considered walking right back out the door he’d come through last night as he drew near it, but the magic intrigued him. Perhaps he could understand the magic and attempt to replicate it later. But the more he looked, the more he saw; and the more he saw, the more he wondered at the woman who’d made this room. 

It was the sea. The sea was on his wall, in his wall? To the left, where it looked the most blue the most places, he could now see phantom water moving just like if he were back under the Great Lake at Hogwarts. If he focused, he could just make out green fish swimming in and out of view, seaweed lining the bottom and flowing in an invisible current. When he touched the wall, the nearby fish seemed to react, swimming away from his presence, but a strange looking little octopus appeared. It swam around his hand, seemingly investigating him, the tentacles brushing up against where he touched the wall, before swimming off.

He walked along the wall, and the darker bluish-greens faded into a lighter, more true green, like he was moving up, towards the surface. Then that was exactly where he found himself, standing next to a green shore. The door seemed to be the demarcation. One side was underwater, the other was next to the water. He moved towards the corner and then began moving slowly along the next wall, the Northern wall, wondering what he’d find next to the sea.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually he saw a tree. Then another and another, until he was surrounded by them. Instead of the sea, he was now in a forest. He couldn’t help the little laugh he gave. He crept forward, looking intently among the trunks and the grass, watching for wildlife and quite aware that he was nearing the bookshelf and wardrobe. He just barely saw a fox peek his head out before nearly instantly disappearing. A few birds flew through the air, too fast for Regulus to identify them. Then, the biggest stag he’d ever seen, ever even imagined seeing came striding straight towards him, form taking shape from the green around him, coming into focus slowly.

He reached his hand up to the wall again, but the stag stopped before it reached Regulus. The stag looked to the side, towards the furniture along the wall and Regulus followed suit. Slinking along, coming from behind the bookshelf, he found a wolf walking towards him cautiously. The wolf was also much bigger than it had any right to be, nearly as tall as Regulus’ hip at its shoulders. Regulus kept his hand on the wall but moved it downwards slowly, towards the wolf. For a moment, Regulus was afraid the wolf would somehow bite him. It hesitated a moment before it stretched forward, only sniffing at Regulus’ hand.

After a few moments, the wolf relaxed. It almost seemed to lick at Regulus’ hand before walking away, disappearing back into the wall. Then, the stag finally approached. He lowered his head towards Regulus as he was much taller than Regulus was, and Regulus got the sudden feeling of being crowned by his antlers. The stag didn’t have to lower his head much or Regulus was sure he’d feel surrounded. He knew there was nobody else in the room with him, certainly no animals, and yet he held his breath as the stag investigated him. The stag straightened after a few moments of investigation, but he didn’t move away as the wolf and octopus had.

A more regular sized owl came flying in then. It flew as though it wished it could fly around Regulus, but the effect was more of a flying back and forth given its confinement to the charmed paint on the wall. Then it landed in the branches of the stag’s antlers, reshuffling its feathers as it settled. The stag and his feathery friend moved away from him, disappearing back into the forest in his wall. He left his hand on the wall, but nothing else appeared. An octopus, a stag, a wolf, and an owl. What a strange collection of animals to charm to come and greet him.

Next on his circuit round the room, he came to the empty bookshelf. The wood was dark, stained to look like ebony but with something light enough to keep the original grain showing. He reached forward to touch the wood and ran his hand along it. The texture wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Was it actually ebony wood? He looked around the room, spinning in place. All the furniture was the same colour. An ebony set?

Why would Mrs. Potter use such expensive furniture in his room? He turned back to look at the bookshelf, inspecting it now for imperfections. He found only a detailed carving along the sides and the top, more trees and a few flowers to go with the forest behind it he supposed. The wardrobe next to it was more of the same, dark and plain with just a few details carved in along the sides.

He continued on to the large window next, the dark green of the forest having faded somewhat to a lighter green. It seemed he’d walked away from the forest. Just past the window he could see small hills, and then by the corner another beach with waves hitting the shore. They weren’t hills he realised, they were sand dunes. He heard something moving against fabric, and he returned his attention to the curtains.

There were silver snakes wound around the fabric, still moving slightly when he approached them. They must’ve been what had begun lightening the room when he woke up. He couldn’t see how they were attached to the wall, but he knew they must be to keep the curtains open as they were. The one closest to him lifted its head from the fabric and settled emerald eyes on him for a few moments before it returned to its post, settling easily. There were still the gauzy white, privacy curtains hanging in front of the window, something he assumed he could either instruct or enchant them to wind up along with the green fabric.

He moved one aside just far enough to see outside. The grounds were beautiful and sprawling. He could see a forest, very like the one currently on his wall, on the edges. There were little gardens he could see from here, the edge of a fountain, a stone path. He’d expected Potter House to be less, he realised. It felt grander than Grimmauld Place did, but Grimmauld Place wasn’t the ancestral home. It was only where his parents had chosen to live. Their father, Orion, had decided to let his older sister, Lucretia, who married a Prewitt, have the estate. Something about her name having changed, but she was a Black first and foremost should anyone forget it.

Next along his route would be the bed, but that held nothing interesting for Regulus any longer though the matching side tables, one at the head of his bed and one at the foot, one of which still held his old tea cup, were nice. Finally, he stopped at the desk, pushed up against the same wall as the bed. Here, they’d plunged back underwater. 

The desk, like the bookshelf, had carvings in it, along the edges. They looked like waves and seashells. He ran his finger along the top and that little octopus reappeared, apparently able to transfer from wall to desk. He wondered if that was because the desk was pushed up against the wall, or some other charm Mrs. Potter had used. Its tentacles moved along where he made contact with the desk, almost like a strange way of saying hello.

Regulus let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold then breathed in deeply. It was beautiful, sophisticated magic. The decorations were cohesive and elegant, understated but beautiful in their simplicity. It was a nice room, lovely really. He might’ve even thought it better than his room at Grimmauld Place. He might’ve tried to stay here for longer, figure out his plan, or even stay the whole summer, except for one thing.

The room smelled as Sirius’ scarf had all those years ago. Regulus had never been able to forget the scent, and its presence here confirmed his suspicions. This was what it smelled like when you combined the magic of James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. He’d had the thought over the years as they duelled and Regulus was exposed to all their magics, but he’d not wanted to think on it too much. 

The smell of a pine tree was the first thing he noticed, the strongest scent he remembered, followed by the smell of a storm, almost like lightning though he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what that actually smelled like. He only knew that was what it was. The smell of storm clouds and lightning. Underneath it all, he found Sirius’ mint and then either Lupin’s or Pettigrew’s that smelled somewhat floral. He knew Potter’s was the storm from all their duelling. Lastly, the salty sea breeze of the ocean drifted around him, but he wasn’t sure if that was because half the room had been enchanted to look like the sea or if it was perhaps how Mrs. Potter’s magic smelled.

He needed to get out of here as soon as possible. They were already trying to sink their claws in him and they weren’t even around. He opened the door and took one step forward before he was stopped by the gentle pop of apparition and the subsequent appearance of a House Elf. She was, without a doubt, the strangest House Elf Regulus had ever seen.

“Good morning, Mr. Regulus Black, sir,” she greeted him with a polite curtsy, her spindly hands spreading her little skirts as she did so. “Mrs. Euphemia has asked Lolli to check on Mr. Regulus Black when he comes out of his room this morning. How is Mr. Regulus Black? Does he require anything?”

Regulus stared at Lolli. She was wearing a little dress of dark blue. Golden stars were stitched around the hem and the little straps around her shoulders appeared to be held together by golden ribbons tied in bows. There were similar bows tied around the base of her floppy, pink ears. She had a little apron tied around her waist as well, a pale yellow with moons of dark blue stitched along its hem, clearly meant to be worn with her dress. On her feet were long, little black shoes also threaded with golden, glittering ribbon. They looked almost like oxfords.

“Mr. Regulus Black?” she asked, her voice high and warbling a little. Like a bird, Regulus thought, her big, pale blue eyes trained on him and creasing in concern.

“Sorry, I’m all right, Lolli. Thank you,” he answered a little haltingly.

“Does Mr. Regulus Black require a potion or two? Mr. Fleamont has many that cure all ailments. Lolli would be happy to bring Mr. Regulus Black any he may need or simply desire.”

Honestly, he’d love a good few potions. His body ached in a way he was wholly unfamiliar with, his face hurt and itched, and everything felt oddly stiff from the rain water he’d sat in all night. Still, he said, “That’s kind of you, but I think I better be going now.”

“Mrs. Euphemia has requested you join her for breakfast before going anywhere. If Mr. Regulus Black will follow me?” she gestured down the hallway and Regulus nodded.

He couldn’t help but look at the walls as they walked. Only some of the paintings moved, but most were admittedly good paintings, magical or not. There were a few portraits. He recognized both Potter and Sirius in some, plus the occasional photograph that depicted all four of them. At least, he assumed it was all four of them: Sirius, Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew. Lolli moved deceptively fast for such a small creature and he didn’t have much time to study them.

The majority of the paintings weren’t portraits though. They were landscapes: ocean waves crashing over and over on a shore; a breeze flowing through the leaves of a forest; a stag picking its way through snow as it fell; a storm brewing in the distance over a field, mountains to either side; a pack of wolves that seemed to be playing in a forest clearing.

He heard Mrs. Potter before he saw her. She was singing a song he didn’t recognize, and he heard food cooking as they drew nearer. Did she have the elves cook in the common kitchen, not in their own? Was there no end to the oddities he would find here? They turned a final corner and Lolli announced them. Well, somewhat, and not as Regulus was used to.

“Mrs. Euphemia, Lolli has brought Mr. Regulus Black as requested. He wishes to go.”

Mrs. Potter turned around from the stove, spatula in hand, no other elves in sight. “Thank you, Lolli. Would you be a dear and send someone to tell Monty that breakfast is ready and remind him that we have a guest?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Euphemia. Lolli will send Rook.”

“An excellent choice, Lolli.”

Though Regulus could see the smile on her face, he could also hear it in her voice, somewhat low and crackling as it was. He wasn’t sure what her slight accent was, but it didn’t impair his understanding of her in the slightest. It was honestly a little nice, turning her voice a touch more melodic than he was used to.

“Thank you, Mrs. Euphemia.” Lolli curtsied again before popping away, the faint smell of clean linen left in her wake.

“Good morning, sweetheart. It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” she greeted, still smiling.

She looked like James, Regulus thought. Or, rather, her son seemed to have taken after his mother. They shared their golden tanned complexions, though James’ was a little darker than Mrs. Potter’s. She was much taller than he would’ve expected, though not as tall as her son. Her hair was similarly thick and wavy, though hers stretched all the way to her hips as it spilled loose behind her shoulders. It was darker near the ends, but most of the colour had been taken over by a shimmering silver. She had smile lines by her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were a lighter hazel, but they looked at him in much the same way - like she knew more about him than he knew about himself. One of the first things he’d hated about her son.

“Good morning, Mrs. Potter. Thank you for you hospitality, but I-”

“Oh, call me Effie, sweetheart, and have a seat. You look positively exhausted.”

“Thank you, but I-”

“Please, sweetheart. Humour an old woman?”

Regulus looked between her and the chairs for a moment. This was dangerous. He knew these people to be duplicitous. She would likely say anything to get him to renounce what he knew to be the truth and join up with them and their twisted ways. She seemed like a nice, old woman, but he couldn’t let himself forget. He was in a lion’s den.

“At least let me heal your cheek?” She tried again, something almost a little pleading in her tone.

He sighed and went to sit in a chair. Regulus may not trust them, but he wasn’t so far gone that he’d lost all respect for his elders, and particularly, the woman of the house.

She smiled at him and waved a wand he hadn’t noticed in her other hand at the stove. She bent to open a cabinet then and retrieved a small box with a painted red cross on it. She brought it over to him and sat at the table. She turned her chair to better face him then rifled through the box. She produced a second smaller container which she opened to reveal a stack of small white cloths. She grabbed one off the top deftly and held it aloft, her hand just extended in his direction. 

“May I?” she asked gently.

He only nodded. He didn’t quite trust his voice at the moment. He didn’t think his mother had ever done this. Before it had been Sirius who cared for him, then it had been Kreacher who snapped his long fingers and healed anything Regulus needed.

She leaned forward and began to gently wipe at his cheek, removing the dried blood and the persistent itchiness he’d had since he woke up.

“James’ note didn’t tell me why you’re here, just that you were.”

“I needed a place to stay for the night,” Regulus answered the unasked question.

“I was told you were quite happy with your parents.”

Regulus looked away from those eyes, and she silently applied some sort of cream to his cheek. At least it felt nice, soothing. It even smelled a little of mint, reminding him of Sirius and calming some strange inner part of him that he hadn’t yet convinced to give up on the concept of a brother.

She hummed and removed her hand. “Well, you have a place here for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, but I-”

“All right, I’m here! Would you call off the watchdog, dearest?”

Regulus looked over to another doorway, a man that had to be Mr. Potter standing in front of it. He had on a set of plain, brown robes that seemed a little stained in the sleeves. He’d sounded exasperated, but there was a smile pulling at his face, lopsided like James, Regulus recognized, one side pulling up more than the other. He had on specs like James too, big and round. There was a House Elf in little pants and a loose white shirt, arms crossed and long foot tapping standing just behind him. The elf seemed as though he were glaring up at Mr. Potter, his eyes, more grey than blue, pointed and far less luminous than Lolli’s were.

Mrs. Potter giggled a little as she stood up from her chair. “Thank you, Rook. As you were.”

The elf, Rook apparently, smiled at Mrs. Potter and gave a small bow before he apparated away, saying nothing.

“If the house explodes, it’s your fault,” Mr. Potter warned as he walked to his wife, his arms immediately going around her waist and his lips to her forehead. Regulus was a little shocked to discover they were roughly the same height.

“If the house were going to explode, you would have fought Rook off,” she said as she leaned into his embrace.

“Perhaps. Oh, Sirius, my boy,” Mr. Potter greeted as he seemed to catch sight of Regulus from the corner of his eye, “I thought you- You look different. Has something happened?” Mr. Potter asked, head tilting a little in question.

“This is his younger brother, αγάπη μου. Regulus.”

“Oh, Regulus Black. Nice to meet you,” Mr. Potter greeted, the smile he’d just had coming back quickly to his face.

“Thank you, sir, but I can’t stay long. I should be going now, actually.”

“Oh, are you joining Sirius and Remus? Or should you wait to go with James? I believe they’re in Greenwich today.”

“No, I will not be joining them,” Regulus answered, trying not to sound too stony about it. He wasn’t the uncivilised one. He would be treating them with the manners he’d been raised by even if they might not be inclined to treat him as such.

“Where are you going then?” Mr. Potter asked with an air of innocence.

“Forgive me, but that’s not really your business, is it?”

“Suppose not,” Mr. Potter agreed easily with a shrug and Regulus saw more echoes of his son in him as well. Something about the way they moved seemed similar, and Mr. Potter’s white hair was in a familiar state of dishevelment. They had a similar face shape as well, something in their jawlines.

“I, for one, would like to know you’re alright before I let you leave here,” Mrs. Potter argued. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Regulus didn’t say anything. He knew he should. He should lie, but for some reason he simply didn’t want to do that. He suddenly very much wanted to tell her everything.

“Is there- Are you spelling me right now?” he asked instead. He couldn’t decide if he was impressed or vindicated. No one decent spelled people so sneakily.

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. The grounds are enchanted, making it difficult to lie to a Potter anywhere on the property. The more Potters gathered, the stronger the enchantment becomes. Though, there are some spots where it’s quite impossible to lie to a Potter.”

Regulus nodded. He’d heard of such magic. It was old, ancient really. It was blood magic if he remembered correctly, and he was surprised the Potters had employed it. He was feeling more impressed as the minutes ticked by.

“No idea how many generations back they put it up,” Mr. Potter provided as he settled into a chair, finally releasing his wife.

“Of course. Thank you again for the hospitality,” Regulus said, ignoring the truths pushing at the backs of his teeth, begging to spill out. “I really should be going now.” He rose to his feet, fully intending to walk away from the blasted Potters for good.

“Where will you be going, Regulus?” Mrs. Potter asked directly with steady eyes and a hand on her hip.

“I don’t know,” fell from his lips before he could stop it.

“Then you really should be staying here.”

“Thank you, but-”

“I insist. You’ll stay here until you have somewhere else to go.” She turned back to the stove with an air of finality.

Regulus fell back into his seat, half on reflex.

“Take you to the owlery after breakfast, son. Write to as many people as you like,” Mr. Potter leaned in and said softly.

Regulus looked over at him.

Mr. Potter only shrugged again, his dark brown eyes warm and inviting. “Not in the habit of keeping people against their will.”

“Sirius could leave too?” Regulus asked, again before he could think any better of it. Blasted enchantment.

Mr. Potter just chuckled. “He’s already planning on it. They might be in Greenwich looking for flats, actually.”

Regulus might’ve said something to that, but when he opened his mouth he heard something else crashing through the house. It sounded like someone tumbling down the stairs if he had to put a name to it.

“Oh dear. Think he’s misplaced his specs again?” Mrs. Potter called without turning from the stove.

“Darling, he’s come down those stairs in exactly the same way for the past fourteen years,” Mr. Potter replied, sounding a bit bored, though he did share a wink with Regulus when Regulus looked to him.

“I resent the implication that I would be so predictable,” James Potter called, voice preceding him into the room. Regulus wondered at himself for a moment. He should’ve known that this was what would be coming crashing towards them through his own house. “Please tell me you haven’t set Rook after me? Hate to have him go looking only for me to already be here.”

“Of course not, ζωή μου. You and Sirius are going out tonight,” she said as her son finally entered and immediately went to her side. His arms wrapped around her waist, just as his father’s had, before he placed a hard kiss on the side of her head.

“ευχαριστώ μαμά. Tea?”

“On the counter, love. The rose honey I was experimenting with is there as well.”

James kissed her again before he released her.

She laughed and swatted at him, and Regulus suddenly felt like perhaps he wasn’t even in his own body. What was this? Who were these people? A woman capable of such complicated, elegant magic as he’d seen cooking breakfast herself when there were House Elves around? Furthermore, House Elves that wore clothing? Had they been freed? Regulus had been taught freeing a House Elf was the greatest dishonour they could face, but Lolli and Rook seemed perfectly fine. Happy even. He’d never known a happy House Elf.

James went to the counter and pulled forward a large circular container, different from the one he’d produced the night before. He tapped the top and it opened up, unfolding like a flower. Regulus could only assume it revealed several more compartments of dried tea leaves. Regulus could somewhat smell it from where he sat and the fragrance was far too heavy and complicated to be enjoyed as it was.

“The darjeeling and lemongrass came in!” James said happily, smile evident in his voice just like his mother.

Mrs. Potter hummed. “I put a rush on it.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” James complained lightly before tapping something else, some compartments closing while others remained open. He leaned over it and breathed in deeply.

“I did have to. There isn’t much I can do for you boys anymore, but I can make sure you have your tea.”

James looked over at his mother then, finally allowing Regulus to see some of his face. Regulus had expected James to be smiling, touched that his mother would do something for him, but he found James looked almost… sad. His jaw clenched a little, and he reached out for his mother before he seemed to think better of it. He turned towards Regulus for a second before going back to the tea then immediately whipped back around to face Regulus.

Regulus raised a single eyebrow at him and James’ startled face broke into a quick laugh.

“You’re still here. Thought it might’ve all been a dream,” James said a little breathlessly.

“I’ve been trying to leave,” he replied dryly.

James looked to his father, confusion clear on his face.

Regulus saw Mr. Potter nod silently at his wife from the corner of his eye.

“Mum, what-”

“I don’t care what schoolyard fights you’ve gotten into. I’m not sending him out there where Zeus knows what will happen to him,” Mrs. Potter said firmly. She said it exactly the way she’d said he would stay until he could tell her where he was going. He expected that to be the end of it, just as it had been the end of Regulus’ argument with her.

“Mum, he’s the thing that happens to people!” James protested instead, gesturing vaguely towards Regulus as he did so.

“He’s only a boy.”

“He’s not-”

“Do you want me to start holding you accountable for all the pain you caused as a boy?” Mrs. Potter interrupted her son’s continued protests.

“You know I’m sorry about all that. You know I’m trying to do better,” James replied, sounding a little heartbroken.

“You don’t think he is?”

“I know he’s not,” James said with a hard finality.

Mrs. Potter opened her mouth to say something else, but Regulus interrupted her.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said and tried to ignore the way panic flared in his chest. Interrupting his mother was not something anyone sane did. He supposed that was why Sirius had done it so much. “Your son’s right, Mrs. Potter. I’m not sorry for the pain I’ve caused.”

“See? Mum-”

“He just lied, and you know it.”

James groaned and hung his head.

“I assure you, Mrs. Potter. I’ll be perfectly fine,” Regulus tried again and failed to fight off the wince again.

“Says he’ll be fine,” James agreed with him.

“Then tell me where you’re going, Regulus,” she said and turned to face him, hand on her hip and steel in her eyes.

“I… don’t know,” Regulus found himself saying.

“See?” Mrs. Potter turned back towards her son.

“Alright, fine. Say he won’t be fine. I don’t see how that’s actually our problem.”

“You made it our problem when you let him in our home last night,” Mrs. Potter shot back quickly.

“Not seventeen yet, are you?” Mr. Potter asked quietly as he leaned towards Regulus, the question coming out of the side of his mouth.

“I let him in for the night. Now it’s morning and he can go!”

“No,” Regulus answered Mr. Potter just as quietly. “Just turned sixteen.”

“But you let him in! You must’ve had a good reason for it,” Mrs. Potter insisted.

“Ah,” Mr. Potter said as he sat back in his chair. “Rook?”

Rook appeared before them, face a great deal less stern looking than before.

“Fetch the protection rings, will you?”

Rook’s face didn’t change. He merely nodded and disappeared with a pop, leaving behind the scent of leather.

“Maybe it wasn’t a good reason, Mum.”

“I don’t believe that for one second. You’re not an idiot.”

“Protection ring?” Regulus asked Mr. Potter, suddenly remembering how the fights between Sirius and his parents would sound in the last year or so he was with them. The sounds of crashing hadn’t been too out of place, and they always ended with the sharpness of a slap, Sirius’ magic turned bitter with rage when he retreated to his room, the scent invading Regulus’ room due to the proximity. He’d never wanted a front row seat to those, and though he would’ve thought he wouldn’t mind seeing Potter get a dressing down from his mother, he found himself uneasy.

“Perhaps we should consider the possibility, Mum. We both know I’ve done stupid enough things to-”

“You be quiet!” Mrs. Potter shouted over her son.

Rook reappeared and held his long hand out to Regulus, his palm littered with rings, some mere bands while others were more glamorous.

“I’ll not have you say such things in my house! You are my son, and you are no idiot!”

Regulus hesitated to take any of the jewellery being offered to him. What if it was a trap? What if this was all some sort of ruse?

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Just James’ magic still flares out a bit when he’s worked up,” Mr. Potter tried to reassure him, voice seeming almost overly gentle now.

“Mum-”

“You had a reason to let him in. I want to hear it!”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t try that with me, young man. Tell me the reason!”

“He was bleeding! It was raining! And the middle of the night! What was I supposed to do?” James shouted, and Regulus could’ve sworn he heard the crackle of lightning in his voice.

Regulus suddenly became aware of the fact that he could now smell the ocean and its roiling, salty waves. He could practically feel the storm brewing in the kitchen. He reached out and picked a silver ring, leaves carved into it to surround an emerald jewel. It fit quite well on his left pointer finger.

“Should conjure a barrier around you should things go for a bit of a flight,” Mr. Potter provided and sipped from his cup of tea.

Regulus nodded then looked back towards the man, away from the fight in front of them. When had he gotten tea?

“What would you have me do now?” Mrs. Potter asked, no longer shouting but voice no less hard.

“Let him go!”

“Let him go where?”

“Somewhere else. Anywhere else!” James was still shouting. He sounded almost desperate to Regulus. Desperate for what, he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to find out.

“Leave him all alone and without protection you mean? Don’t you forget why you’re doing what you’re doing, James Potter.”

“I’m not bloody well doing it for him !”

“Oh, so we can pick and choose now too, can we?” Mrs. Potter continued to challenge her son though her voice was lowering. As if she were the tide, he could feel James’ energy be taken out with her. He didn’t seem much more calm, but his voice crackled less.

“I’m not-”

“Why’d you let him in?”

“Mum-”

“Why?”

“I don’t-”

“If he’s your enemy, why would you let him in here?”

James sighed and turned away from his mother and towards the counter. He planted his hands on it, wide and flat, and he leaned forward, shoulders tight.

“ζωή μου?” Mrs. Potter asked, suddenly gentle. Her hand went to his shoulder, delicately placed.

Regulus let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, relieved, he realised, that they weren’t going to keep fighting.

“αστέρι μου,” James said quietly. “I- He’s- αδερφός. I couldn’t…”

“I know, love. I know who he is, but he’s just a boy who needs help.”

“I don’t know if I can…”

“Try, ζωή μου. It’s all we can do.”

Regulus looked back to Mr. Potter who only shrugged a bit, apparently unconcerned.

James took a deep breath in then released it, shoulders relaxing just slightly underneath his mother’s hand. He turned back around to look at Regulus who began pulling the ring off. Clearly, he wouldn’t need it anymore.

“Keep that on,” James snapped at him, the crackle coming back to his voice as he crossed his arms.

Regulus rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked. This wasn’t the fight he needed to win today.

“How long’s he staying then?”

“As long as he needs,” Mrs. Potter answered.

James was still staring at Regulus, face set and eyes hard.

“I’ll be leaving the moment I can,” Regulus answered.

James nodded then looked over his shoulder at his mother. “I need some more refills. I’ll see you later, yes?”

“You’ll eat your breakfast first,” Mrs. Potter declared, using the same tone that had put Regulus back in his chair and gotten her son yelling at her. He wondered how it would go this time.

“I’m not playing happy families with him, Mum. Call me when he’s gone.”

“James,” Mrs. Potter protested.

“No, Mum,” James said, voice tired. Everything about him suddenly seemed tired, almost sagging under his own weight. Regulus expected Mrs. Potter to push back once again. She only looked at her son before she nodded once just slightly.

“Alright, but you’ll have to tell Sirius before he returns.”

“Mum!”

“James Potter, you either sit down and eat your breakfast or you swear to me now that you won’t let Sirius set foot in this house without knowing his brother is here.”

“Mum, I’m not even hungry.”

“Sit or swear,” she demanded.

Honestly, Regulus wasn’t sure which was the lesser of two evils in Potter’s eyes. Sit and try to act civil with him or face his brother who clearly would not be pleased.

James glanced at the food cooking behind his mother before looking to the table, at Regulus and his father. “Alright. I swear I’ll not let him in the house without knowing.”

Mrs. Potter looked for a moment like she might still try and argue with him, but she deflated quickly, clearly disappointed. She nodded again at her son.

“I’ll-” Mr. Potter started, leaning forward in his chair before his wife glared at him and he sat back, “Join you once I’m finished here, alright?”

James gave a tight smile before grabbing an apple and going down the hallway Mr. Potter had appeared from.

The kitchen was quiet for a few moments, Regulus doing his best to try and understand what had just happened before him.

“Think he’ll ever eat breakfast again?” Mrs. Potter asked quietly, still watching the empty doorway.

“I’m sure he will, darling.”

“They just keep-” she seemed to stop herself when she turned towards her husband and caught sight of Regulus once more. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. James can be a little temperamental in the mornings.”

“It’s been my experience that he's temperamental all of the time.”

Mr. Potter laughed a bit and Mrs. Potter smiled at him.

“Are there things that keep you from eating your breakfast, sweetheart?” she asked kindly.

Regulus blinked at the question. “No, ma’am.”

She nodded and turned back to the stove, small smile still on her face.

He looked to Mr. Potter who was now, somehow, offering him a tea cup and gesturing towards the table where sugar, milk and honey had somehow materialised.

Regulus sat quietly, watching the Potters as they went about their morning. House Elves came in and out a few more times and Mr. Potter opened the Daily Prophet at some point. Mrs. Potter didn’t start singing again, and Regulus felt a little like he’d already had a long day when breakfast had concluded and Mr. Potter offered to show Regulus to their owlery. 

It wasn’t until he was standing in the open structure, blank piece of parchment stretched out on a standing table before him, quill in hand, that he remembered. He still didn’t have a bloody plan.

Chapter 3: who likes me and who hates you

Summary:

In which James does his best.

Notes:

Fair warning: this chapter is a good deal darker than the previous two. There are mentions of torture, violence, pain, and blood. Nothing too graphic or detailed.

If you'd like to be sure to skip all of that, stop reading at "These were the things James believed in, the things James believed in protecting." and you can start back up again at "Moody asked with all the air of a man who knew he probably should not have asked."

 

*The overall tone of this fic is not meant to be dark.

James Potter was a believer. He did not live in his mind. James lived in his heart. He lived in rainstorms and that feeling just between man and beast where all he was was pure magic. He lived in that rush he felt every time his feet pushed off the ground and his broom caught him. He lived in the feeling of spinning around Sirius, knowing he wasn’t about to be hit in the back by some curse while protecting them both as best as he could. That was what James was. Belief.

It wasn’t just that that was how he best understood the world and his place in it. He liked to believe in things. He believed in his parents. He believed in goodness and protecting the weak. He believed in Sirius, Remus and Peter. He believed in the Marauders (the only time lately that he truly believed in himself). He believed in love. He believed in the Ministry, and Professor Dumbledore. In that order.

He didn’t know what to believe about Regulus. He believed Regulus had told him the truth; he’d had no choice really. He believed Regulus wasn’t a good person. He didn’t know if he believed that Regulus was a bad person. He hadn’t taken the mark. He very well could have at this point. There were plenty of rumours that Crouch Jr. had already done so. The Order had, of course, dismissed them and their “childish hearsay” given that the intel was gathered in a school, but James found he believed in their so-called rumours. He believed Crouch Jr. had taken it when he was only thirteen, so why hadn’t Regulus?

After leaving the disaster that had been his mother’s latest attempts at breakfast that still really only made his stomach churn, James had retreated to his father’s labs. This was partially because it was where he’d said he’d go (where he really should be if not in Greenwich with Sirius and Remus) but also partially because sometimes it helped him to think. James didn’t particularly like thinking. He wasn’t particularly good at it. In the labs, it was easier though. Surrounded by his father’s various potions in all their states of completion, all his experiments, James found his thoughts a little easier to make sense of. It wasn’t easy , but easier at least.

James had been standing in front of a workbench in his father’s labs for the better part of an hour, not that he felt it, staring blankly at the bench. More accurately, he looked down at the various leather belts laying flat before him as if their enchantments could provide some sort of answer. If only he knew what questions he even had, then perhaps he could look at something more forthcoming than straps of enchanted leather and half-full potion bottles. He only knew he was confused. By himself, by Regulus, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t hard for James not to know things. At least, it wasn’t usually.

Merlin, he didn’t know how he was going to tell Sirius any of this.

He should be believing. Something. Believing that everything would be alright? Believing that he would find a way to let Sirius know without Sirius immediately hexing his bollocks off followed quickly by dismembering his own brother despite how upset that was likely to make his mother for any number of reasons, least of all that his father was likely to pass out from the sight?

“Don’t forget this,” his father called, surprising James out of his somewhat spiralling thoughts. Only reflex saved the vial of potion his father tossed to him from shattering on the workbench.

James looked down at his hand to find a smaller vial full of a dark red potion; he could see bits of white floating around occasionally as the potion settled after being flung across the room. “You know we never use this, Dad.”

“And I’ll keep packing it for you until the day you do. I do hope you never have need to use it,” he said with half a smile as he approached James. His snowy hair was a little more messed up than he remembered it being before, and James couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at his face. His mum had run her hands through it, James was sure. It was something she usually did absentmindedly but lovingly. Both his parents had done it enough to James for him to feel justified in the warm feeling the sight inspired in him, the way it made everything feel that much more like home.

“Well, the day I need to repair my damn bone, I will be sure to thank you for making me so prepared,” James offered.

“You should be thanking me every day, brat, and for less than that,” Fleamont teased as he arrived at James’s side after manoeuvring around his various benches, cauldrons, and other such projects.

James laughed and ducked a little, almost trying to dodge his father’s outstretched hand, but mostly making it easier for his father to ruffle his hair, making them even more of a matching set than they normally were these days.

“Moved on from the medical supplies yet?” Fleamont checked after a moment of looking at the enchanted leather James had just been consulting with in silence.

James only hummed. He hadn’t really started if he was being honest. Mostly he’d just laid out their various belts and emptied their slots and pockets, checking their supplies ostensibly, but mostly moving on auto-pilot.

Fleamont hummed in return before asking, “Thinking about our guest?”

James laughed a little before he turned away from the bench to face his father. His father had always had a talent for guessing what was wrong, what James was thinking about, or rather more often, trying to think about. His father was still good at it when he could be, when James wasn’t so concerned with covering up the fact that anything was wrong. “Do you think I was wrong?”

“To let him in, yell at your mother about it, or not eat your breakfast?”

“The first. I already know I was wrong for the other two,” James said easily as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the bench. He’d apologise later to his mother, just as he always did.

Fleamont hummed. “Unlike your mother, I am familiar with these English pureblood families, the way they raise their children, what their expectations are. I believe I understand your worry better than she does.”

“So you think I was wrong?” James checked.

“Do you think you were wrong?”

“I don’t know , Dad,” James said with a sigh and a useless movement of shoulders, almost like a shrug but not quite enough for it to be truly called as such.

“You said yourself, he turned up in the middle of the night bleeding and asking for help. Would you be wondering if you’d done the right thing if it had been anyone else?” Fleamont asked patiently, happy to have a moment to speak with his son it would seem, no matter the topic.

“Probably not, but he’s not anyone else.”

“You’re right. He’s Sirius’ brother.”

“I can’t tell if that makes it better or worse that he’s here,” James admitted with a groan. He brought his hand to his forehead and leaned into it with his elbow anchored on his other arm against his stomach.

Fleamont hummed again, non-committal. “Why would it be wrong to offer help to someone who needed it, son?”

“Because he’s Regulus sodding Black!” James burst out, flinging his arm out as he did so. “I can’t tell you how many times he’s hexed me at school, how many duels we’ve gotten into, especially this past year. He wants to be a death eater! He wants to join everything we’re fighting against!”

The lab was quiet for a few moments in the wake of his small outburst, his father letting him simmer back down. While his mother always pushed him, his father never did. James often couldn’t decide which one he preferred, it changed given the day and the particular circumstance. Today, he far preferred his father.

“Join? I was rather under the impression you and Sirius considered him already a death eater?” Fleamont asked quietly.

“I-” James cut himself off with the realisation that his father was right. Somewhere along the line, James had decided Regulus hadn’t quite joined them yet. There was a line between Regulus and the death eaters in his mind; a thin one, but it was there. When had he done that? Why? Was it just because his arm lacked the dark mark?

“I think we both know exactly why you let him in here, and I’m willing to bet it’s exactly why he came here instead of anywhere else. I wonder if it’s also why you don’t think he’s quite joined up with them now.”

“Wha- Sirius?”

“I believe Sirius still loves his brother.” Fleamont explained simply, just as calm and undemanding as the day he’d explained how to slice different ingredients properly to James. “Can’t Regulus do the same?”

“But Regulus is a stuck-up snobby prat who can’t tell the difference between-”

“James,” Fleamont interrupted in warning.

James sighed again and looked down at the floor. He knew he wasn’t being exactly fair. It was hard to be fair to Regulus after everything he’d done, after everything they’d both done, and everything James had seen that had almost nothing to do with Regulus himself.

“You know a thing or two about loving Sirius Black even when you find yourselves on opposite sides of something, don’t you?”

James looked up at his father. He did, was the thing. He knew very well how to love someone even when you sort of hated them and couldn’t quite believe they were doing what they were doing. He knew exceptionally well how to do that with Sirius specifically, courtesy of Moony, Snape and some conniving little Slytherins the dark part of him wished he could meet on one of these missions so he could let them know exactly what he thought of them.

“Come now, son. Regulus is only a boy barely younger than you. He’s not evil incarnate.”

“He worships evil incarnate,” James grumbled and looked away.

“Perhaps you can show him different while he’s here,” Fleamont suggested.

“How do you propose I show him anything meaningfully different enough to get him to change his opinion? Firstly, he’ll never listen to me. Not in a million years!”

“James,” Fleamont cut in calmly, but James wasn’t ready to be quiet just yet. 

“Secondly, I can’t think of a single thing that would work! I’d have to show him something new to convince him. It has to be new! He’d have to be blind and deaf if there’s a hope of a chance because if he’s seen and heard half of what I’ve seen and heard,” James took a moment and a breath, memories threatening to overtake him for a moment, “he wouldn’t be on their side.”

Again the lab was quiet for a few moments. James looked at his hands and the scars he knew were there but he’d covered with charms and glamours, as he tried to breathe, tried to calm himself down. His father would not continue until he felt James was calm enough for a discussion.

“Haven’t you ever wondered if someone was covering his eyes?”

“I- what?” James looked back to his father.

Fleamont looked at his son, brown eyes warm as always. “What if he hasn’t seen or heard anything that you have? What if someone kept him in the dark?”

James stared at his father, his heart kicking with something he hadn’t fully felt in a while. Hope. Hope that he could actually do something. “You honestly think I could turn him?”

He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I barely know the boy, but isn’t that what you’re fighting for? Not to simply eradicate those who oppose you, but to help bring greater understanding to those who would remain otherwise ignorant.”

James looked away again, at the floor this time, a little ashamed of himself. That hadn’t been what he’d been fighting for. He’d maybe fought for it in the beginning, but it had faded quickly. It hadn’t lasted much longer than his first mission for Dumbledore, and it certainly hadn’t lasted longer than the first family of corpses he’d found - a muggle-born mother with a muggle father and two children, one magical and one not. They’d been burned for their crime of existing. 

James had felt something within him burn away that day, and he didn’t believe it would ever grow back. James wasn’t sure he knew anymore what it was he was fighting for except to get rid of the burning feeling of inadequacy that seemed to plague him with varying degrees of intensity.

Fleamont dropped a heavy hand on James’ shoulder after a few moments. “You’ve done well, son. Not just with Regulus Black.” 

“You don’t know…” James whispered darkly, trailing off when he couldn’t bring himself to even attempt to finish the thought.

“I don’t need to know. You are my son, and you are still alive. I know it’s been hard, and I know it’s hard to look for the light when you’re surrounded on all sides by darkness.”

 “Hard, Dad? Feels impossible.” James’ shoulder sagged under the weight of Fleamont’s hand and his expectations that James could feel piling up higher and higher though he was sure his father didn’t mean to pile anything at all.

“I know it does, but nothing is impossible, dear boy. If you have the strength for it, and I believe you do, there is very little you cannot do.”

“Dad-”

“You turned yourself into a stag at what, fourteen years old? All so your friend wouldn’t have to be alone when he isn’t even your friend, when he won’t really remember it. Son, you have strength enough to see this through. You have strength enough to come out the other side.”

“And if I don’t?” James asked quietly, a fear so baked into him at this point, he couldn’t remember to try and keep it hidden, try to reassure his father.

Fleamont was quiet too for a time until James felt another strong and steady hand land on his other shoulder. A hand that had held him, helped him stand after he’d fallen, and pushed him onwards when he needed it too many times to count.

James looked up, into the eyes of his father. They were familiar and still warm, overflowing with unwavering love. He wished he could appreciate them the way he had dozens of times before. He was still a little caught up in remembering everything that had happened in only the past six months. He was a little too stuck remembering just how absolute the darkness that he’d found himself in was to fully appreciate them in that moment.

“If you do not currently have the strength, I must believe that you will find it before it is needed.” Fleamont smiled and squeezed James’ shoulders gently.

They stood in the silence then, the gentle bubbling of ongoing potions providing a familiar and soothing background noise.

“I do believe you did the right thing in extending aid to the boy, but you do not need to try and save Regulus from himself, James,” Fleamont offered finally.

James laughed a little, but it was a bit cold, a bit detached. James believed many things. He did not believe he was fully capable of not trying now that the possibility had been presented to him if he found himself with a chance. He was not particularly looking forward to it.

“You do need to eat breakfast. You worry your mother.”

James laughed again, warmer this time, and put one of his hands on top of his father’s, trying to leave his memories and rejoin the much happier present. “Lunch and call it good?”

“Lunch, supper, and breakfast tomorrow if you know what’s good for you,” Fleamont said with a crooked smile.

James shoved his father off his shoulders with another laugh.

“Come on. These won’t fill themselves. What do you think you’ll need this time?” Fleamont turned back to the work bench.

“Most likely healing more than anything. We’re meant to observe,” James answered as he turned back to the bench as well, trying to move forward as well as he could.

“Not gathering intelligence?”

“No, we lie in wait again,” James said, voice flat, all smiles and laughter falling just as quick as they’d risen. He hated these kinds of missions. He much preferred when they were allowed to sneak around and feel as though they were actually accomplishing something. 

They’d not been given so active a role as they’d had since May with the ambush of Voldemort and even that had barely been anything. The ambush had gone swimmingly after the surplus of aurors had finally managed to lead the increasingly less imposing figure of a would-be dark lord to the edge of the loch so that he could be plucked unceremoniously from the ground. Peter had seemed to enjoy himself a bit as he waved the “dark lord” about in the air, or as happy as an over-sized octopus could seem to be to James. James still wasn’t sure who exactly had disarmed the dreaded wizard, but he had been after only a few moments of the waving. It was all a bit anticlimactic. James and Sirius had been left to corral any wandering supporters that they could, and that was all they’d done.

Fleamont sighed, but turned to other benches and shelves, grabbing potions he’d kept stocked for his sons. “Regulus will be an interesting guest to entertain, I think.”

“Did you see his face when you sipped your tea?” James asked, hands moving towards the potions and half-filled bottles spread before him as well, happy to not have to try and think of the past six months.

Fleamont laughed. “I don’t think he noticed me getting it ready. He was too focused on you two trouble-makers.”

“He’ll have to learn to multi-task if he’s going to survive living here for any amount of time.”

“I’m sure he will. He seemed bright to me.”

“Brightest star in the Leo constellation,” James added almost absent-mindedly.

Fleamont hummed and they began to work in tandem, arms moving in and around each other as they grabbed potions and put them in the belts. They’d gotten used to working together in the labs like this when James was only thirteen and he’d started wanting to help his dad with his work once he understood it better. Recently, it had been more for preparing him and Sirius for these missions Dumbledore sent them on than simply learning something new, but working alongside his father was still nice.

James could let his brain go a little with the second set of eyes on everything. Sometimes, he used this opportunity to make his lists, try to order his thoughts. The list of what they’d need was easy to make, nearly too easy. They’d need small and large blood replenishers, essence of dittany, various antidotes to poisons and other deleterious effects such as paralysis, and of course, something they’d come to lovingly refer to as ‘death ink,’ courtesy of Peter and Sirius’ flair for the dramatic. It didn’t cause death even slightly, but it did cause temporary blindness for an entire day if you got it in your eyes. They didn’t use it often though they had gotten fairly good at flinging the potion at other peoples’ faces. Still, James liked to bring a vial with him whenever they went. It felt a bit like a good luck charm for James.

The other slots and pouches they would switch up at times, and James wasn’t sure what exact configuration would be best for this upcoming mission. He was packing a pouch full of the fabric he and Sirius called ‘ready skin’ without much real thought. The fabric had been developed by his parents, but hadn’t been moved to any kind of shop. His father still wasn’t quite satisfied with it. It couldn’t heal anything really, but it would cover a wound in a pinch if you were out of options and wanted to prevent any sort of infection. It stuck to real skin like a motherfucker though, so James tended not to use it. Even with the deactivation potion, which stung when it got in the wound, it hurt to peel off. Sirius though, didn’t seem to mind it. Neither did Remus the few times they’d been able to use it on him after a moon. He set the pouch with the wound up fabric down and leaned forward on the bench, no happier or more resolved than before. At least they were nearly packed now.

“Chance of needing these?” Fleamont asked and held up a bandolier full of round bottles full of roiling clouds of different coloured smoke.

James looked over and smiled. “I think Sirius will be put off if we leave those behind.”

Fleamont smiled back and laid the belt down amongst those they would rather sling across their hips than from their shoulder. “Everything else in good condition?”

James shrugged. “The duster could probably use a touch up, but I’ll see if Remus can help out. If it’s alright to have him over before the next full?”

“We’re always happy to have Remus. Sirius’ sheaths are working well?”

James nodded. Not for the first time, he felt a little like they were overcompensating, but every time they were in the thick of it, he was glad they were as prepared as they were. If they were to wear everything, which they’d only done on the one ambush so far, James would have tall, leather boots that were enchanted to help him keep his footing, greaves that Dumbledore had lent them and wouldn’t divulge the enchantments on, two thick leather belts, one slung a bit lower on his hips and the other closer to his waist, full of potions in various bottles and enchanted not to break or burn away, an extra wand in his shoulder holster, and a long leather duster enchanted to take quite a bit of damage before letting its wearer feel any of it. There was also the leather vest his mother had made for him that he’d never worn in favour of his reinforced tunic.

There was then a choice for James. He had a pair of leather gauntlets that protected from his elbow to over his knuckles. They were enchanted to take damage as well as help him keep his grip on his wand. If he didn’t wear the gauntlets, he had a pair of leather bracers that left his hands completely unprotected. They both stored several small potions - usually dittany, blood replenishers, and his beloved death ink. The gauntlets were able to carry more than the bracers with the addition of a slot to keep his wand that he rarely used. Otherwise, he kept his primary wand strapped to his left hip, where he imagined he might keep a sword.

Sirius would have similar boots and greaves. He’d found he enjoyed strapping several throwing knives about his person. Some were regular blades while others had been enchanted to harm their victim additionally (paralysis, poison, more pain than the cut itself should entail). Sirius also tended to keep to one belt slung around his hips, potions and a few pouches containing mostly medical supplies there, and a bandolier slung across his body full of non medical supplies. He didn’t wear a coat most of the time, only a leather vest that buckled all up the front to keep his vital organs protected, and he refused on all fronts to wear robes while they went about fighting death eaters. It was an attack on them itself, he’d declared, to reject the traditional wizarding attire. He left his arms largely unprotected and free to wave about dramatically in only his loose, white sleeves. Sirius kept his extra wand on his right hip while his traditional wand was on his left for ease of draw.

Generally speaking, they wore the boots, the greaves if they knew they would be seeing Dumbledore, and one belt each. Sirius wore his vest and James wore his coat with his reinforced tunic belted in underneath to help protect his vital organs as his mother demanded it be every time. Sirius would strap a few throwing knives around his thighs in case of emergency and never forgot his spare wand. James often did, but he hadn’t been disarmed yet.

“Use them much, does he?” Fleamont checked, the first note of apprehension creeping into his voice.

James shook his head. “Mostly it’s handy to have a blade out there. We’ve had a few ropes react poorly to specific charms and such, but not many react defensively to a simple blade. Well that and Sirius thinks they make him look cool,” James laughed to cover up the little wince he wanted to give. Potters were not exempt from the house’s magic should they choose to lie to another Potter, but over the years, James had gotten rather good at joking often and telling just enough of the truth to get by.

“Oh good,” his father said with a clear breath of relief.

“I’ll bring these up to their usual spot then,” James offered with a smile. Usually he felt a little bad when he lied to his parents, but he didn’t here. His father was no stranger to violence, but he’d made it perfectly clear he rather hated it. James gathered the belts they’d refilled in his arms and made for the door. He wouldn’t be bringing them all to the apparition point, but at least he’d have options later when he did go to meet Sirius.

“And have some breakfast, yes?” His father called after him.

James tossed a noise over his shoulder he hoped his father would take as an affirmative. He moved through the house easily enough and soon he was laying the belts down by their boots and other wear. He turned to look back at the kitchen, felt his stomach roll at the thought of food (especially the sausages he’d been so fond of his entire life until maybe three months ago), remembered Regulus might still be sitting there, and walked out the front door instead, headed for his favourite spot in the forest on their property.

Everything was all just… too much. Regulus coming here. Having to tell Sirius. The mission tonight. Not for the first time, James thought about running away, running into the forest and never coming back. It wasn’t a thought he could ever entertain for long. There was Sirius to come back to, Remus, Peter, his parents. He couldn’t abandon them. Still possible war or not. 

Even so, it was a nice thought sometimes. One that didn’t leave him alone for very long anymore. It circled around his head when he sat by the creek, back against a tree, as he tried to pretend the world wasn’t the way it was. It popped back up at lunch with his parents, in the silences between their words as James pointedly ignored the way his mother kept glancing at the door that would lead to Regulus’ room. It came back in the hours before supper, all during supper, the hours after, and up until the point he met back up with Sirius and his familiar smile, bandolier and knives in hand. 

It didn’t particularly matter to James how often he had the thought. His thoughts were often faulty and so he didn’t always trust them. He knew he should, that reason and logic were what proper witches and wizards used to govern their actions. He knew it all just as well as he knew that he would never feel secure in logic and fact. Logic could be twisted. Facts could be omitted. He had to believe in something to let it steer him.

He just wasn’t always so sure who or what to believe in anymore. Especially on nights like tonight.

He and Sirius had been crouched outside a run-down house somewhere in a countryside clearing for several hours now, hiding in the edges of the surrounding forest. Dumbledore had left them a couple of portkeys at their go-between to get here, so they didn’t know exactly where they were. Sirius had looked to the night sky for a while at the beginning, waiting for breaks in the cloud cover to help him navigate.

It had apparently been of little help. Still, James wasn’t having too bad of a night while Sirius had been playing “where in the world are we?” The night was heavy around them, but James had become accustomed to it. He could find beauty in the songs of the insects around them, the small noises that proved animals lived, that life went on despite everything. It had rained not too long ago, but it wasn’t raining on them, leaving James surrounded by fresh greenery and something that smelled almost like his father’s magic. It was comforting, as was Sirius’ warm presence next to him. These. These were the things James believed in, the things James believed in protecting.

Then, the screaming had started. 

It wasn’t their first time listening to torture unfortunately. They were the reconnaissance team after all. Their job was to stay put, listen, watch and report back. Nobody could be arrested for doing nothing but look somewhat evil, so they had to wait for a law to be broken. It was one of those things he knew backwards and forwards but couldn’t find one iota of belief anywhere in himself no matter how hard he looked. James felt it like a fresh line carved into his now quite shredded heart every time he heard screaming start and stop. He wanted nothing more than to give in to what he and Sirius wanted - to charge in there and save whoever needed saving, fight whoever needed fighting, and put down anyone who got in their way. 

They had their orders though, and Dumbledore’s instructions had been clear this time as they had been every previous time. They were to observe and contact Moody (the only auror the two of them worked with and who Sirius often referred to as their handler) the moment they could identify the specific death eater they’d been sent after. If the info James and Sirius had helped procure two weeks ago was correct, she should be here tonight. Somewhen. They knew she wasn’t already in the building, so here James and Sirius were, listening to someone, or several someones, scream for hours with nothing to do about it. Except wait and hope that they could stop it all soon.

“ Mon moitié ?” Sirius called quietly.

James heard him but couldn’t react, too stuck on watching the little house, too dialled in to every little change in the screams and pleading. He hated it, the screaming, but he could never turn away from it.

“Hey, you still with me?” Sirius stretched out a little to kick at James’ foot, connecting with the side of his calf instead, breaking James’ concentration.

“What is it, Pa- αστέρι μου?” James asked, voice croaking a little from his disuse, eyes still on the house.

“In your body there, love?” Sirius asked again, lips quirking a little from the half-pet, half-code name. Sirius had disliked having to find something else to call James besides Prongs and its many variations, but Peter had eventually convinced him to use nothing anybody would possibly be able to recognize. And just about everybody at Hogwarts would’ve heard them use Padfoot and Prongs at least once by now, if not several times.

“Yeah,” James breathed. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Alright?” Sirius checked.

“Yeah fine. Just hoping our guest arrives soon.”

“You and me both. Getting real tired of our concert.”

James exhaled something that might’ve been a tired laugh. He closed his eyes and slumped down, back behind a bush they’d conjured between trees for better cover. He was suddenly aware of his muscles and how they were all suddenly relaxing, leaving only vague soreness behind. He wondered how long he’d been half crouched like that. “Were you talking?”

“Nah, just you went all still maybe an hour ago, so thought I’d check.”

James nodded, eyes open and on Sirius now. “How long’s it been?”

“We’re a few hours from dawn now,” Sirius provided easily if tiredly. They’d arrived just after nightfall. “Had a patronus from our delightful handler a little while ago.”

“We did?”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer now,” Sirius answered the unspoken question.

“Good. That’s good.” James turned back to the little house and ignored the sigh from Sirius. He knew Sirius hated when James got so dialled in like this. He knew Sirius’ nerves were shot just as much as James’ were. He knew Sirius needed him. They were a matching set after all, but every time James thought of something to say, something to talk about, something to keep him distracted, he remembered last night.

Sirius still didn’t know Regulus had turned up. Sirius didn’t even know that Regulus hadn’t taken the dark mark yet.

James was fairly happy to let Sirius continue to live in ignorant bliss. Regulus could leave before Sirius ever saw him after all. His mum was less content to let the sleeping dog lie. She’d made him swear not to let Sirius set another foot in the house without telling him since she was fairly confident Regulus would be staying longer than either of them had assumed. What the hell was James supposed to say to Sirius though? How? When? He couldn’t say anything now . It could jeopardise the mission. Besides who knew who might be listening in? Would someone come after Regulus? He’d been kicked out after all.

“ Fais attention ,” Sirius whispered urgently.

Immediately, James was back in the present and trying to focus on the approaching figures. There were two as there always seemed to be. The air pressed in around him as the screaming stopped abruptly. James felt his magic growing, a dim crackle in his ears, as the smell of incoming rain grew. Mint tinged the air as well, Sirius getting ready for whatever was about to happen next to him as he always was.

Once James got a good look at the woman they’d been waiting for, and Sirius as well, a silvery blue light appeared in his peripheral vision. A small wave of warmth engulfed him and James closed his eyes to try and sit in that happiness for as long as he possibly could, to find some way to carry it with him through whatever happened next.

“Find Moody. She’s here. Ready to intercept if departure appears imminent,” Sirius whispered to his wolf-dog before it bounded away on air, leaving them cold and in the dark once more.

The woman entered the house and after a few moments, someone new began screaming, their voice already rough.

“Can’t make sure she doesn’t floo out from here, now can we?” Sirius asked, his wand already out of its holster from the patronus and rolling in his fingertips.

James looked over at him with a crooked smile and found it mirrored back at him. 

There were no floo points nearby. They wouldn’t be here if there were. 

“Looks to me like they might be leaving soon.”

“Just what I was thinking, mon moitié . Should probably make sure that they don’t go anywhere on us. We have been waiting for them all night.”

“So glad we agree. Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

“I do believe I went first last time, so by all means,” Sirius gestured forward, waving that peppermint with his hand, the slight bitterness of his burning anger trailing just behind.

“Many thanks, love.”

They moved across the lawn quickly and quietly, James in the lead, not wanting to cast anything in case it set off some ward the death eaters had set up. The aurors had already gone through and dismantled as many wards as they dared before, setting up new ones in place that they would be able to activate when they arrived. Still, James and Sirius had learned a few lessons in wrangling dark wizards and witches the hard way, and they weren’t keen on learning too many more at this point. Perhaps they could’ve waited a few moments, but they’d also learned the aurors were quick. If they wanted in on anything they had to take their opportunity the moment it presented itself. Plus, the two of them could hardly stand sitting in wait and listening in for much longer.

They pressed themselves against the outer wall once they reached it, James looking back at Sirius for a moment, making sure they were ready. He ran his hands along the small vials of potions in his gauntlets, all brewed by either himself or his father. He ran his hand over the biggest potion bottles along his waist as well, checking that they were all secure and intact before running in. One of the lessons they’d learned the hard way - it was apparently somewhat difficult to notice when a potion bottle had broken and leaked out. They’d also had a potion slip out and crash against the floor when they weren’t expecting it if they weren’t secured correctly. Once he saw Sirius had done the same, they gave each other a little nod and began moving towards the door.

At the door, James looked back at Sirius to get an idea on how he might like James to approach the situation. All he saw was a wicked grin followed closely by Sirius bringing a free hand up to his hair, fingers sticking straight up mimicking antlers. James couldn’t stop his own smile before he shook his head and backed up a few paces. Once he was firmly on four feet instead of two, he moved forward and rapped his antler against the door a few times, knocking like the very polite wizard he was. He turned around before he could see who opened the door, but heard the hinges go and immediately kicked out with one of his back legs. He felt his hoof connect with something somewhat solid then heard something somewhat large hit the floor. Hard.

“Show off,” Sirius grumbled quietly though the wicked grin hadn’t left his face. “You gonna get small again or am I meant to try and not hit you with this?” Sirius gestured with one of the larger potion bottles he carried, swirling grey smoke trapped inside.

Sirius had complained about it before, how tall James was as a stag. He’d grown as a stag as he’d grown as a man and now stood maybe eight feet tall at his eyes. The antlers, or prongs as Sirius so lovingly referred to them as now, gave him another foot or two, which apparently made him rather imposing. James couldn’t find himself imposing no matter how hard he tried. He was only a stag, after all.

James snorted but complied with the request. He assumed Sirius had chucked the thing while he was still transforming because when he turned back around to face their adversaries he was met with a wall of smoke.

“You idiot!” Someone shrieked from inside. 

Sirius was still smiling as he turned towards the wall of smoke and waved his wand a bit. A few dim green lights appeared and flew into the house immediately to the right of the door. 

“How do you like three and a half on one?” Sirius asked, only half turned towards James.

“I like three and a half on two better, but I’m sure I’ll manage,” James answered, reflecting Sirius’ grin back at him once more. With that, they plunged into the relative darkness they’d created. He heard Sirius take a few running steps before he hit the floor, sliding under the spells he saw flying right for him. James fired back as quick as he could. It wouldn’t take them long to clear the room, already he could feel a breeze at his back and pulling sideways when there shouldn’t be one.

He ducked a little to see underneath where the smoke appeared to be gathering, looking for legs. He saw the man he assumed he’d kicked still lying on his back not far from the door. He was groaning a bit, so at least James hadn’t killed him. (Sirius kept saying he wouldn’t kill someone with a simple kick, but James wasn’t so sure.) He found three other sets of legs just as he’d assumed based on their intelligence. He strode forward and moved slightly to the right, moving to get in between them and Sirius who he could already hear whispering healing charms.

He dodged a few more spells, not too hard to do but getting harder the more the air was cleared, and shielded Sirius from a couple when he could, still mostly across the room from him. The moment he had an opening, he fired off a few of his own offensive spells, like little fireworks from the end of his wand that waited until impact with something to explode, as well as the usual few stupefies and expelliarmuses. Most missed, but one connected with a knee, and the man cried out. His wand hit the floor just before the rest of his body fell into clear air.

“Rosier,” Sirius hissed. He’d half-turned at the noise of the man hitting the floor.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got these idiots handled,” James called back, a bit louder than was strictly necessary.

The room cleared then, the smoke sent out through bursting windows and the open door. Before anyone could really get close to the door, James flicked his wand and closed it, a small locking spell on it for good measure. “It’s bad manners to leave a party so soon, and before all the guests have arrived to boot,” James clicked his tongue at the two death eaters who remained standing. 

“Merlin, you must be young. What are you, eighteen? Nineteen?” The woman they’d been sent here for, Cordelia Flint, mused, her voice soft and oddly sweet. “So bold, so headstrong. Is the Ministry really so desperate?” 

“I wouldn’t say desperate,” Sirius replied, no longer half turned towards them, but using the lull to tip potions down various throats and onto various limbs that James assumed were covered in blood based on how red his peripheral vision was.

“No, not desperate. Rather more, creative?” James offered while he surveyed the room, trying to assess his would-be opponents while he could.

“Wouldn’t you rather come work with us? I’m sure your talents aren’t being fully appreciated. I promise-”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Rosier interrupted, hand already clutching his wand once more. “That’s the runaway Black in the corner, and I’d bet anything that that’s Potter.”

“Hear that?” James called, still smiling. “Your reputation precedes you, dearest.”

“Of course it does. Though, I’ve grown in popularity if even someone like Rosier can recognize me on sight,” Sirius shot back.

“Such a shame,” she said, voice now gone cold and flat. “Keep one alive. I want to know what they know,” she ordered, and the duelling began.

James, admittedly, was rather good at duelling. From the first moment the professor had talked about duelling, he’d believed he’d be brilliant at it, and it had come naturally to him, as had most of what they’d learned in Defence. He could feel his magic singing with it, the way it arced through his body and out into the world, the freedom he felt. Duelling meant no thinking. There was no time to think. It was only him and his magic against whatever opponent he’d run up against. 

He was something of an oddity though, their professors had admitted. James wasn’t so good at winning duels as he was outlasting his opponent. He could hex, but never as good as he could counter-hex. He could cast no spell as strong or as fast as his protego, which he could now do (as of one week ago) quite reliably both wordless and wandless. 

Truthfully, going solo against three and a half (well two and half with Rosier still on the ground but firing off spells when he could and the first death eater he’d incapacitated not bouncing back quite as fast as he’d initially thought) grown death eaters wasn’t exactly James’ idea of a good time. The room had already devolved into barely comprehensible lights and sounds. There were flash and bang spells meant to disorient him, and plenty of curses aimed at him and Sirius, so it was a bit of a challenge. Perhaps more than a bit, but James couldn’t let that kind of thought fester and turn to belief. He’d manage. He’d stay alive. He’d keep himself, Sirius, and everyone he could, alive up until the moment he couldn’t; and that was all there was to say about that. So even with the terrible odds, he did believe he and Sirius would be fine until Moody showed up. They’d be even better once Sirius decided he’d healed as much as he could afford to for the moment.

When James finally made it to Sirius, he immediately kicked out, the side of his foot connecting with Sirius’ own. “Good?”

He heard movement from Sirius rather than a reply as he continued to protect them both while now also trying to pull the woman he’d finally noticed laying on the floor to them . The woman, more bruise than skin, was lying right there in the middle of the room, the middle of everything, looking at James and Sirius upside down as she panted. How he hadn’t seen her until now, James wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really interested in dwelling on it either. 

The death eaters thankfully were apparently wholly uninterested in stopping the rescue. The going was still slow as James strove to keep everyone alive and in one piece, though she seemed to be trying to help them as much as she could, wriggling slightly like she might be trying to crawl in some strange way. 

“Better than you.” Came the strained response from Sirius after a few moments.

James scoffed then winced as he transferred his weight unthinkingly back to his left leg. He didn’t know when it had happened, but at some point in all this, one of them had cut a nice little hole clean through the outside of his left thigh. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. James hadn’t looked down to check on it yet.

“Just hold on a sec,” Sirius returned.

“Oh sure. No rush at all. Take your,” James grit his teeth as a crucio collided with his shield harshly. He hated shielding against them. They always seemed to shake everything up his arm leaving his hand just a bit numb, “time.”

“Alright already!” Sirius shouted and finally stood next to James. “I’d say for them to pick on someone their own size, but nobody’s your size.”

James laughed. There were few things James loved as much as duelling with Sirius. The two of them moved and cast in tandem, perfectly aware of each other, their strengths and weaknesses, what they’d do next. It was one of the times he felt closest to anyone. Where James fortified, Sirius attacked. Where Sirius dodged, James could deflect.

The room was utter chaos, streaks of coloured light flying to and from various wands, but James and Sirius were used to the pandemonium at this point. At least it was no longer bordering on overwhelming James. They reacted on reflex, James’ protego going up to shield them both and going down to allow Sirius’ hexes through just as quickly.

For a brief moment, everything came to a bit of a halt as the last standing man hurled an Imperio their way. James didn’t bother to block it as Sirius moved to take it for him. The other death eaters paused as Sirius went still. He looked down at his chest then back at the man who had cast the curse.

“Kill him!” he shouted and pointed at James.

Sirius looked to James for a moment then back to the man then back to James. “I thought you said my reputation preceded me?”

James shrugged and looked down at his leg. Yes, that was definitely a hole just in his leg now, dripping blood down into his boot. He just cleaned these. “Maybe it got lost in translation?”

“Lost in translation?” Sirius huffed a bit.

“You know, from stupid people overhearing intelligent people,” James explained, tone far more frustrated than anything else, with a flippant little wave of his wand that brought the poor woman quickly to their feet.

“Oh, that could be.”

“Shut up! Imperio!” the death eater man yelled.

The curse landed on Sirius once more, and the man did not waste a moment before ordering him to kill James again.

“Alright, I know we joke that they’re stupid, but really?” Sirius looked back to James for a moment before cocking an eyebrow at the man.

James held his hands up.

“Nevermind. Let’s kill them both,” Cordelia commanded, voice no longer cold but angry, almost hissing, snarling like an angry cat, or perhaps a scared one.

The fighting struck back up again, and James began to wonder a little bit where Moody was. This was starting to go on longer than he’d assumed when they’d charged in here, and good at duelling as they might be, James could feel who was winning. Rosier was firing off more and more spells, albeit still from the ground, and the one he’d kicked was finally beginning to sit up.

“Bad plan time?” James asked quietly as they spun around each other, switching opponents and dodging what they could while aiming around shields James couldn’t lower fast enough.

“Hate that plan.”

“Got a better one?”

Sirius huffed. “Not right now.”

“Right then. Down I go!” James supplied with far more enthusiasm than Sirius appeared to appreciate.

It was a tactic they’d sort of stumbled upon. If one of them got hurt or went down after they’d been duelling for a moment, their adversary usually took a moment to celebrate. The death eaters they fought were more often than not of the arrogant variety and enjoyed gloating far more than James or Sirius did. (They could at least wait until nobody was attacking to gloat.) 

At any rate, the momentary pause to reflect on their own greatness gave either Sirius or James (whoever didn’t go down) a fabulous opening to retaliate, so they’d begun creating openings for one of them to go down, always aiming for something that was non-lethal. They’d won a few duels this way. Sirius hated it every time. Mostly because James was very often the one who got hit with something.

James was about to figure out a curse he could get hit with when he saw Sirius’ eyes widen a fraction. That was his only warning before his entire body was alight with pain. Dimly, he heard a bit of laughter as he felt his legs lock up with pain, the curse travelling up them from its striking point in his ankle, and his body dropped to the ground.

James had been hit with a few crucio’s at this point. He’d even been hit with Sirius’ a time or two. (They’d wanted to know what they might be up against and Professor Dumbledore had approved the exercise. He agreed it would be useful for them to experience Unforgivables, know how to throw off an Imperio and function after a Crucio, and to know what it took to cast them themselves should they ever find themselves in a situation dire enough to provoke such an extreme response from them. Neither of them were very good at casting the curses, but they took Crucios like champs and threw off Imperios like pros.) He knew they were all the same, the same curse obviously, but they felt different from person to person.

Sirius’ was hot, a furnace burning him alive from the inside out. The first death eater’s Crucio he’d felt was a different pain, tight. It was a suffocating weight pressing him in from all sides and making it feel impossible to breathe. The second was sharp, invisible blades dragging across every inch of his skin, leaving him gasping and certain he was about to die. The third had been something horrifying, something he still had nightmares about. It had felt like every single bone in his body had broken at once and were then twisting around trying to find a way to leave him. He hadn’t let Sirius, or anybody, touch him for days afterwards.

This time, he was being frozen alive. His blood turned to ice and everything was so cold, he felt like he was being burned alive. Not roasted like Sirius’ magic, but seared. It was a dangerous pain. One that took his breath away and made it unimaginably difficult to pull another breath in.

Some eternity later, when the feeling began to subside, James did exactly as he and Sirius had trained, exactly as he’d done a few times before. He flipped onto his back and fired off disarming charm after disarming charm blindly, wandless and wordless. They weren’t very powerful, but they were something and they’d helped a time or two. When his vision cleared and he could make sense of what he was seeing, he breathed out a sigh of relief. 

Moody was here. 

James climbed to his feet sluggishly with limbs still feeling stiff and creaky from cold, wand in hand once more. Just as James was half-way upright, a hole was blown into one of the far walls. The man who had come with Cordelia was already helping Rosier through it, letting still falling debris hit them.

“After them!” Moody yelled, voice as gruff as ever.

James took a shaky step forward before he was overtaken by two faster figures. Frank and Alice Longbottom, the aurors in training Moody brought with him and the only other members of the Ministry that knew James and Sirius were involved as much as they were, ran across the room and out the hole.

Then James turned towards the remaining death eaters, Cordelia and the man he’d kicked. Moody roped up the man without much trouble, and Cordelia was disarmed and similarly detained in a matter of seconds with all three of them focused on her.

Sirius immediately dropped back to the ground, healing spells flowing from his mouth without much pause for breath once he saw there was no more threat.

“Just couldn’t wait, could ya?” Moody asked as he hobbled towards James, heavily using his new walking stick (they’d heard him yell that it wasn’t a cane exactly one time and immediately decided never to call it so again), still getting used to the loss of his leg it would seem.

James smiled back. “Thought she looked like she was leaving, and we couldn’t have that now, could we?”

“Get yourselves killed if you keep this up,” he said, ostensibly reprimanding them but doing so with a bit of his own smile. “Y’alright there?” Moody nodded at James’ upper right arm.

“What?” James turned to look where the auror had indicated then reached to try and staunch the blood flow he could now feel flowing down his arm from some wound in his right bicep. “Oh yeah, good. Didn’t even realise it was there.”

Moody grunted then tapped at James’ leg with his walking stick near where James figured the hole was judging by the persistent burning pain. “That’s not reassuring, lad. At least this one isn’t cursed,” Moody declared. “Looks painful though.”

“It is,” James replied. When Moody looked back up at him, James was still smiling.

“Young’uns,” he grumbled, though again, through his own smile.

“They’ve gone. Not sure where or how, but all magical tracking came up empty,” Alice said as she reappeared in the hole in the wall, drawing their attention. 

“Must’ve had an escape plan ready,” Moody replied, clearly frustrated.

“Strange. They didn’t come together,” James said.

“Oh, James. Are you bleeding again ?” Alice asked, face pulled in sympathy though her tone was more of the long-suffering kind.

James shrugged before replying and immediately chased away the subsequent intruding thoughts of Regulus yelling at him for the action. “It’s just so fun. Don’t know why we’re not all bleeding all the time.”

“I bleed plenty, thanks,” she said back drily before Frank reappeared over her shoulder, breathing a bit harder than his new wife.

“Sorry, Moody.”

Moody scoffed and waved a hand. “Dark wizards are a slippery lot, and most of them won’t hesitate to throw others over if it’ll help them get away. We got who we came for. That’s what’s important.”

Frank nodded, resigned, before he looked over and down at Sirius. “Alice, are you-?”

“Oh, no you don’t. I helped with healing last time. It’s your turn,” she replied with a sniff and her slender arms crossed.

“But darling, you’re so much better at it than I am,” Frank tried, letting his hand skim gently up along her arm. “Wouldn’t you rather-”

“I’d rather know that you can help should I find myself in need of medical attention. That’s what I’d rather.”

Frank sighed but pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck and turned back towards Sirius. “Oi, Black. How’s it looking?” 

“Some better, some worse,” Sirius called back, clearly distracted.

Frank then began to pick his way across the room towards Sirius. James watched it all while he tried to focus on breathing, and not on the pain. He was also concentrating on not thinking about the feeling of blood in his boot or in his gauntlet, trapped between his skin and the leather. It would probably stain his skin, possibly the leather, just as the floor they were now standing on had stains. If James had to guess, he would’ve said they looked like pools of blood that someone had let sit for far too long, likely not caring about the mess they made. But James was definitely not thinking about any of that.

Frank seemed to be trying to avoid stepping on the stains where he could, walking around bits of rubble and other odds and ends, a shoe, some rope that had been cut, what looked like some teeth if James were looking, which he wasn’t. Whether he was avoiding the obvious blood stains out of some moral principle or respect James didn’t know. James didn’t care to know anything more about this room, or even Frank at the moment. He’d come and done his job. That was all James knew, and all he had to know. James did not want to know anything about anything anymore.

Alice meanwhile, began seeing to their bound death eaters. She seemed to either be reinforcing whatever binding charms they were under or just expressing her general disdain. Perhaps with a small, harmless stinging jinx it appeared.

“Prongs, the silver bit?” Sirius called, pulling James’ attention.

“Oh sure,” James pulled his hand from his arm and reached for one of the bigger bottles he kept on his waist. Good to pour on cursed wounds if they got the brewing right, bit finicky this one. They probably wouldn’t bother with it half as often as they did if it weren’t so damned effective when it did work. He tossed it to Sirius easily once he’d undone the clasp on the belt.

Sirius caught it then promptly nearly dropped it. He looked up at James then, brow furrowed over the blood coating the glass. “How bad did you go down?”

James shrugged again and resumed trying to hold himself together a bit. “Only felt the Crucio.”

Alice sighed as she stopped by James and Moody, her husband now finally dropping to Sirius’ side. “Honestly, James.”

James just grinned at her, wide and unrelenting. Alice could be a good distraction for the next little while. She was usually a good sport. “What? Scars are sexy, don’t you think?”

Alice flushed a little and Moody scoffed. “The mouth on you, Potter.”

“What? All I’m saying is that I would never dream of trying to shirk my healing responsibilities off on the ever-talented Alice here, and now I’ve got quite the collection of sexy scars,” James continued with a wink.

Alice flushed a deeper pink and giggled a bit.

“No, you’d just shirk them off on me. I would never shirk,” Sirius added with a small bark of laughter.

“Do you think my scars are sexy then?”

“Scars are sexy. You’re not,” Sirius said without missing a beat.

“Well, fine. You’re not half as sexy as Alice anyways. Who needs you?”

“Watch it, Potter. That’s my wife you’re flirting with,” Frank called out good-naturedly and without looking away from their patients.

“For now, at least,” James answered with a little shoulder shimmy, his one hand still trying to staunch the blood flow from his bicep. “People get divorced.”

“James!” Alice swatted at his good arm as he laughed. “This is hardly the place or time!”

“But why isn’t it the place or time?” James asked. “Seems fine to me.”

Alice gave a startled laugh before she looked pointedly at the pile of people James had just heard being tortured for he didn’t really want to know how long. “Perhaps not in a room full of people who have gone through what they have just been subjected to?”

“Well, if we’re limiting declarations of love to only happening not next to the dead and dying, that severely limits my prospects,” Sirius said with a huff.

“Why are we declaring any love at all?” Moody asked with all the air of a man who knew he probably should not have asked.

“Because it’s the truth!” James declared passionately. “Alice, I-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that lie, James Potter,” Alice cut him off quickly, seemingly caught between stern and bemused. “Just to be clear, I’ll not be leaving my husband for the likes of you!”

Frank made a small noise at that.

“Or anyone! I love him, and I will until the day I die.”

“Oh no. Now who will I love?”

“Watch out, Frank. I fear you may be next,” Sirius called with a smile clear in his tone. “Or perhaps it’s just a song coming on.”

“Sorry?” Moody asked with a cough.

“Come on, Moody. Get with the times,” Sirius said absent-mindedly.

“Maybe you should stop encouraging your friend to sleep with anyone who is married and instead see to his wounds?” Moody suggested, bristling a bit.

“Sirius’ll patch me up back home. No need to worry, sir,” James said easily.

“Black?” Moody called.

“Yeah, alright,” Sirius said as he stood and pried James’ hand away from the wound to get a look at it. He clicked his tongue at it, but otherwise let James’ hand return to where it had been. He crouched to look at James’ leg next after Moody motioned to it. He stood after a moment and looked at James with a sigh.

James only shrugged with a half smile.

Sirius couldn’t stop the smile in return and shook his head. He went through James’ belt then, pulling potions and the ready skin out to hand off to Frank. “Longbottom’s got those. Let’s get out of here.”

“See you round, Alice,” James said with yet another wink.

“If I don’t see her first,” Sirius challenged with his own wink.

Alice laughed and Moody huffed again. Frank seemed to be ignoring them at this point.

“I hope you’re in one piece next time.”

“You and me both,” James answered.

“Now, remember,” Moody started.

“They were never here.” Frank cut in, still looking at his new patients, tone bored and uninterested. “They’ve never been here. They’ll never be here until they’re prospective aurors on sanctioned missions. Don’t believe I’ve ever even heard of a Potter. Alice? Have you?”

“Think there might’ve been one a few years below us, dear,” Alice provided with a sweet smile. “Good flyer if I remember, but I can’t think of much else. Must not have made an impression.”

Sirius barked his usual laughter as he began steering James towards the door, one arm under his to help support his weight.

“Professor’ll be wanting a report tomorrow I believe,” Moody called before they left the little house.

“We’ll see you there,” Sirius gave a little mock salute.

Moody gave a dry chuckle as they walked away, muttering something about paperwork and being glad some things were off the books at least.

Once they were outside, Sirius turned to James and opened the pouch they’d stored their portkeys in without a word. James reached forward and took his ordinary looking fork without a thought. He couldn’t begrudge Sirius his silence now when James had given him silence earlier.

As the two of them travelled, James remembered his promise to his mother. When they reached their apparition point, James handed his portkey to Sirius so Sirius could turn them into the safe house Dumbledore often used as their go between point. He waited on a street corner, trying not to look too suspicious in muggle London and dreading what had to happen next. He was going to turn an already long night impossibly longer. 

“Race you home?” Sirius asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was tired and his own sleeves were stained with blood. His or the others, James wasn’t sure.

“Wait, there’s something I have to tell you first.” James didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to do it at all, but he definitely didn’t want to do it right now. He could see it in Sirius’ eyes. He needed to be alone. He needed to relax from the night’s activities. It was how they worked. James couldn’t help but be affected as things happened around him, and Sirius saved it all up to work through at home, especially when James had been so closed off.

But he’d promised his mum, and if James believed in nothing else, he believed in his mum. He couldn’t break a promise he’d made to her.

“Well, do it quickly. I’m tired and cold and my bed is singing its sweet siren song,” Sirius said with a small smirk and nothing mistrustful in his eyes.

James took a breath, then another, and finally figured he should lead with the most important thing and work backwards or forwards from there. “Regulus is at the house.”

“Our house?” Immediately, Sirius’ posture had straightened, his eyes went flat, and James could smell mint coming back around.

“Yes. He said Walburga kicked him out, and he -” James tried to explain but watched in dismay as Sirius disappeared, leaving only the small pop of apparition and the vague scent of mint.

James swore and apparated as well, hoping his injuries weren’t really all that bad, following after Sirius. Apparating here had been half apparating and half side-alonging with Sirius. James successfully came out on the lawn, though a bit more off balance than usual. He was unfortunately behind Sirius who was legging it to the front door. Not quite running, but enough to make just about anyone get out of his way if he should find somebody there. James stumbled a little as his leg throbbed, but he found his footing quickly.

“Sirius! Sirius, don’t!” James called as quietly as he could while still hoping for his voice to reach Sirius. “It’s the middle of the night, Sirius!”

Sirius ignored him completely. He crashed through the front door and immediately began yelling Regulus’ name as loud as he possibly could. James winced as he continued to limp along behind Sirius, still trying to keep his arm from bleeding too profusely. Sirius only continued yelling for his brother.

“Sirius, stop!” James hissed once he’d caught up and grabbed at Sirius’ sleeve with a hand sticky from his own blood.

Sirius twisted away from the grip, faced James, opened his mouth and yelled with a voice that James could feel vibrate his bones, “Regulus Arcturus Black!”

“Merlin, Sirius. I haven’t gone deaf,” Regulus grumbled as he shuffled forward into the light.

“Sirius, love, there’s no need to shout,” Euphemia chided as she descended the stairs and pulled her robe tight around her body, tying the sash just as she finished climbing down. Her eyes found James quickly, and he was grateful to find that she was already as worried as James was.

“You,” Sirius said and whirled towards his baby brother. His voice was low and dangerous, something James had barely heard in the house, but had heard plenty out in the various locations Dumbledore sent them. Euphemia seemed shocked by it. She took a small step backwards and away from the men she called her sons, but Regulus only steeled himself against it. He straightened up and faced Sirius head on, gaze unwavering in its challenge of Sirius.

“It wasn’t enough to fall in with that disgusting lot, make sure I have no chance at a family. No, now you’ve got to come and sink your venomous little fangs into the Potters too?” Sirius growled, voice low but still easily understood from where James stood. Based on Regulus’ face hardening, he figured he’d understood as well. Sirius managed a step forwards before James lunged for him, pain in his extremities momentarily forgotten.

James didn’t know everything. He didn’t know what Regulus was really doing here, what he expected to come of it, or what Sirius really would do if he got his hands on his brother. He did know that Sirius would probably never forgive himself if he actually managed to harm Regulus tonight. Sirius could barely even look close to admitting it, but James knew Sirius missed Regulus in some way. He missed his baby brother, and right now, Sirius was furious with all death eaters, which he assumed Regulus to be.

There was a small scuffle, mostly muggle fighting, some shoving and James trying to keep a hold on Sirius as he tried to twist away. James kept trying to drag Sirius backwards, away from Regulus and Sirius kept trying to shake free to get at his younger brother. For a moment, James looked around, wondering why it was taking Peter so long to help out. He and Remus were usually unable to let James and Sirius work their problems out on their own. In the next heartbeat, James remembered where and when he was, and his grip on Sirius tightened. Eventually, James managed to wrestle Sirius back to the wall next to the front door and pressed him into it. His hands were on Sirius’ wrists pinning them near his head, probably holding on too tight. Neither of them were holding wands.

“Sirius, calm down!” James shouted, struggling against the pain on horrible display before him, his own pain, and his own better judgement.

“I won’t!” Sirius promised, eyes wide and lips pulled in a permanent snarl, his nose scrunched. “He’s poison! They’re all bloody poison!”

“He’s not a death eater, Sirius!” James tried again, tried to lower his voice to help diffuse the situation. He knew it probably wouldn’t help, but he had to believe that Sirius could be talked down. It wasn’t likely. James recognized the look facing him, and Sirius was all nerve endings. All he was was rage and spite, ready to be channelled in any direction it could be.

“He is!” Sirius shouted back, only raising his voice really.

“He’s not!”

“He is! He wants nothing more than hands covered in death and a mouth full of blood! He’s a snake! They’re all bloody snakes here to-”

“Sirius, she kicked him out!”

“I cannot believe you believe that!”

“She did,” Regulus’ voice cut through whatever James was going to say next, trying to get Sirius back in his own head, his own body. James couldn’t chance looking back at Regulus, at the cold, clear tone, but Sirius’ eyes were focused past James’ shoulder now.

“You’re such a fucking-”

“She said I was a bigger disgrace than you.”

“That’s not possible.”

“And yet.”

“No. No, you’re lying! You have to be lying!”

“He’s not lying, Sirius. He told me out on the porch last night.”

Sirius opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. He relaxed just slightly in James’ hold and the back of his head hit the wall. James winced a little in sympathy. The room was finally quiet then, and James took a moment to breathe. With the urgency of the situation fading, he could begin to feel his wounds again and he only hoped everything would wrap up quickly so he could go sit down.

“Look, boys. I think this has all been-”

“Last night?” Sirius asked quietly. “You said, he’s been here since last night?”

“Yes,” James answered.

Sirius stared back at him, eyes gone cold and hard, his fire from just a moment ago now completely doused. Sirius shook James’ hold off, now loose. 

“Get off of me,” Sirius said forcefully and gave James a shove. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Sirius,” James pleaded.

Sirius just shook his head and moved past him. He passed by Euphemia without a word or even so much as an acknowledgement that she existed. He climbed the stairs two at a time while James, Regulus and Euphemia all watched wordlessly.

James sighed and shuffled backwards a little to lean against the wall Sirius had just been pushed up against. He let his head tilt back until it hit the wall and closed his eyes then held up his hand when he heard his mother take a step towards him.

“James,” she protested a little.

“I’m fine. You’re needed upstairs,” he said quietly.

“You both-”

“I said, I’m fine,” he cut her off, probably a bit too harsh. He winced a little at himself. “You can check me over at breakfast tomorrow?”

She sighed, but said nothing else. He only relaxed a bit more when he heard her going back up the stairs she’d only just come down. He could begin his listing now, he supposed, try and pull some sort of sense out of the past twenty-four hours. All he wanted to do was go to bed. Couldn’t do that though. His mother would be beside herself if he turned up to breakfast without treating his wounds, so he needed to do that. First, he’d need to get to the kitchen then. Perhaps he’d make himself some tea. Yes. Tea sounded nice. Then he’d-

“Why did you defend me?”

James’ eyes opened and he brought his head forward to look at Regulus who was now standing in front of him, looking just as unsure as he had the previous night. At least he wasn’t dripping rainwater now.

“What?”

“You defended me against Sirius. You slammed him against the wall,” Regulus explained slowly, almost patiently, though he did so with the aristocratic arch of an eyebrow that seemed to suggest he thought James was stupid. “Why would you do that for me?”

“I didn’t do it for you,” James answered easily. He pushed off the wall and took one step forward. He immediately regretted everything, but he pushed through the pain as he always did. “Excuse me.”

“You can’t just- You’re bleeding,” Regulus protested, at first annoyed but ending far more surprised.

“How very astute of you,” James replied drily, still half-walking/half-shuffling slowly towards the kitchen.

“You’re-”

“Go to bed, Regulus,” James cut in, quite through with dealing with people at this point. “I was only keeping Sirius from doing something he’d regret. If he does the same the next time he sees you, I won’t be stopping him.”

James was already in the kitchen, struggling to get his gauntlets off and halfway through making his tea before he realised he’d expected Regulus to keep arguing with him. He looked up and at the doorway, half expecting the younger Black to materialise. When he didn’t, James merely continued on as he had the past six months, making his tea and treating his wounds, fully believing that Regulus would be gone before too long and everything would soon go back to the way it was meant to be.

Notes:

If you skipped some of the middle bit: mostly all that happened was James and Sirius go charging into a dangerous situation they didn't have to or probably should not have; Moody and his two trainee aurors, Alice and Frank Longbottom, arrive to help out; and then James distracts himself from the horrors of war by flirting with a married woman.

Sorry about the extra wait on this one. It fought me a bit. Figured it was done enough, so hopefully it is up to par with the first two chapters.

 

(Also unsure when in universe this will be explained so for everyone wondering, Sirius calls James "my other half" essentially, like partner in crime type of deal in French, and James calls Sirius "my star" in Greek for obvious reasons. If you haven't caught on, or didn't read the tags - Euphemia is from Greece so James can speak some though I probably wouldn't call him fluent unlike Sirius (and Regulus) with French.)

Chapter 4: made it out alive

Summary:

In which Remus is called upon.

Remus Lupin needed a moment.

He hated apparating. It was his least favourite way to travel, magical or otherwise. Sirius liked to joke it was the muggle bit of him persisting. It was the same joke he’d made first year when it became clear that of the four of them, Remus was decidedly the worst at riding a broomstick. Of course, Remus could manage both now, but neither came particularly naturally to him.

So, standing on the front lawn of the Potters, Remus took a little moment. Just a small one. Just enough time to lean forward and brace himself against his knees. Just enough time to watch the grass blowing in the gentle summer breeze and for the air to return to his lungs and leave it just as easily as it had before.

He brought the note up from where he’d trapped it between his palm and his thigh and read it again, now with a backdrop of green grass.

 

Need you.    Pads is       Pads won’t     Come quickly please.

 

The parchment appeared to have been torn from the corner of a larger sheet and the edge was stained with something that could be blood, but could also be any number of strange and new potions James’ father would be working on. It had sent Remus’ heart careening against his ribs when his mother had woken him up to deliver it. Now, his heart wasn’t so quick, but it was a little unsteady. What sort of mess had his best mates gotten themselves into now?

He stacked himself up straight now that his breath came easier, and he’d decided his moment was over. Even so, he didn’t move towards the house just yet. He kept tipping his head back until his view was filled with sky. It wasn’t particularly cloudy and the blue was somewhat calming. He liked the sky, how great and big it seemed. It made him feel as though he and all his problems were rather small, and in being small, they seemed much more manageable. Usually, at least.

He began walking forward without fully taking his eyes away from the great expanse above him, and when he looked down, his eyes skipped over the familiar somewhat grand facade. Instead, he looked back to the note.

His feet slowed to a stop a few meters from the front porch without his actually deciding to stop them. 

He looked to the house. 

He looked back down at the note in his hand. 

He looked back to the house.

He decided he agreed with his feet. 

He turned away from the house and began walking towards the small forest the Potters owned and helped to maintain. During the summer, it was where Remus had taken to spending the full moon. It was leagues better than whatever Ministry “accomodation” they tried to provide. Even if the forest and its inhabitants weren’t so pleased with his being there, full moon or not. 

James had apparently always felt rather peaceful in and amongst the trees despite how his disappearing inside inspired a rather opposite feeling in his mother. It had only gotten better (or worse, depending) after he’d become an animagus. The forest had never particularly minded James, but once he was a stag, the forest was far more welcoming to him and anybody he might have with him. With a note like the one in Remus’ hand, he could only imagine how much peace James might be seeking out.

Remus took a few steps inside the forest before he remembered to keep his focus on the ground in front of him. He couldn’t afford to focus on anything else when surrounded by creatures that found it quite funny to trip and generally mess around with new inhabitants, particularly the new inhabitants of a darker variety. One of the many perks of being a werewolf. 

Remus stepped carefully over a root that looked a little less stationary than he would’ve liked and thought of nothing other than keeping his footing. He side-stepped a patch of grass that was a slightly different colour of green than the surrounding greenery, and he didn’t think of all the notes James had sent him over the course of their schooling. None of them had been less than a hundred words, and they’d hardly ever even gotten to the point of why James was sending a note in the first place. 

Remus paused for a moment to survey the way forward, and then he decided to give a hole in the ground a somewhat wider berth than would be absolutely necessary if it were only a hole in the ground; and he didn’t think of all the ends to the sentences that James had started and couldn’t finish. He turned away from a tree that appeared to be slightly glowing and seemed rather enticing, and he didn’t think about all of the nasty things that could’ve happened to Sirius.

Nothing had happened to Sirius. Nothing could happen to Sirius. The world just wouldn’t be that cruel to Remus. Give him friends, friends lovely enough to, well, really almost kill themselves while attempting dangerous and advanced magic just so he would have company while he wasn’t even in his right mind? Make them endure the tragedy, well tragedies, of fifth year? And then, after all of that, when they were friends again, when Peter could talk to them again, when Remus had begun to think of the future again, when they’d survived it all, have Sirius die helping clean up after mostly preventing a war? 

It was… unthinkable that anything would have happened to him now , and so Remus, being the logical and rational one of the group, promptly tripped over a root. He just caught himself on the trunk of the tree that hadn’t really meant to do that he didn’t think after looking at it for a moment. He shook his head at himself. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now, and spinning his mind out on unlikely possibilities wouldn’t do anyone any amount of good.

Nope, Remus wasn’t thinking about any of the awful things that Sirius had already confessed to having witnessed, to having heard about, to having done. He was focusing on the ground and remaining still when he heard some movement. There were technically no dangerous creatures here, but Remus had yet to come across a creature - magical or not - that was still totally peaceful when frightened. Most tended to be frightened when surprised.

After a moment of stillness, Remus decided it was safe enough to continue on. He side-stepped another questionable patch of grass and let out a breath of relief when he heard the small river. He just hoped he was right. If he’d come all this way and James was somewhere else, James would be hearing about it. 

Once Remus found the blessed river, he followed it downstream a little ways as it curled through the forest until he finally saw James sitting on the bank. He had multiple pieces of leather gear that Remus recognized spread around him. He seemed to be washing their gear in the fresh water of the river. It looked as though he’d put the dirty ones on the left and clean ones on the right to dry in the sporadic sunlight daring to peek through the trees.

James looked up from the belt he was scrubbing a few moments before Remus called out. Immediately James’ face split in a smile before he used the back of his wrist to push his specs up the bridge of his nose. “Moony! You’re here!”

Remus only held the note up with raised eyebrows.

James squinted and leaned forward, clearly confused until Remus was nearly to him and James’ face cleared. “Oh right. I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?” Remus asked, incredulous and more than a little miffed as he collapsed onto the ground next to the clean leather.

“I remembered thinking about it, but I couldn’t remember if I’d actually done it or not,” James answered with a little shrug.

“Honestly,” Remus murmured and shook his head. “The most terrifying thing you’ve ever sent me and you forgot about it.”

“Terrifying?” James asked, head tilted to the side and concern colouring his voice. He set down the belt he’d been scrubbing at too.

“Shall we start with what on earth this is?” Remus pointed to the top edge of the note, the edge with the stain along it.

“Oh, I think that’s blood. Not sure if it’s mine,” James answered easily.

“Is that meant to put me at ease?”

James laughed and picked the belt back up, concern already faded. Remus wouldn’t put it past him to have forgotten what the note was even about. “Remus, it’s hardly the first time I’ve stained some parchment I gave you with my own blood, or possibly someone else's'.”

Remus huffed. There was no point in delaying anything. “Alright then. What’s wrong with Sirius?”

James’ hands stilled, but he didn’t look back up at Remus.

“James? Is it something- Is it really bad?” Remus asked quietly, heart jumping to his throat and pressing down on his vocal cords.

“I dunno.” James shrugged again. “He’s mad at me.” Then he went back to scrubbing at his belt.

Remus needed another moment to process that. 

His impulse was to yell at James. Because Sirius was angry with him? Why couldn’t he have put that in there? Why couldn’t he simply have written, “ Pads is angry with me. Please come at your earliest convenience ”? No, James would rather scare Remus half to death with a cryptic and worrying note.

Then Remus took a breath. This was James and Sirius. It wasn’t as if they were never angry with each other. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t resolve their differences themselves, though that was usually with their fists. There was something else. There had to be, or why else would James look so guilty, head hunched over like that? Why else would James be so determined to scrub at a belt he’d clearly been scrubbing at for a little while?

“Well, what’s it about? What did you do?”

James sighed and put down the already clean belt again. “It’s his brother.”

“Regulus?”

James hummed in agreement and nodded before resting his head in his hands, face in his palms, knocking his specs askew. Oh good, another round of one of James’ guessing games. Sometimes, James just… went quiet, and they were all left to guess what he meant, what he was thinking. He’d explained once that it seemed as though his brain was too loud, too busy to let simple words get through for him. Sirius was best at these guessing games, but Remus wasn’t so terrible at them. And well, there weren’t many things it could be if it were about Regulus.

“Did you guys finally meet him out there?”

James shook his head.

So it wasn’t that they’d finally confirmed that he was a death eater, which Remus didn’t figure would be grounds for Sirius being so angry. Probably Regulus had met some terrible fate and Sirius was feeling complicated things about it all. It was common knowledge that they hated each other, but they were still brothers. They’d loved each other once. Remus still remembered how disappointed Sirius had been at the start of second year when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. 

But then why was Sirius angry with James ? Remus could only think of one thing that might accomplish it.

“Did you- Did you go find him and kill him then?”

James whipped his head around to look at Remus with wide eyes, specs already sliding down his nose again, hands floating in midair where they’d been covering James’ face. “What?”

“I mean, it’s all right if you did. Well, it’s not all right, but I’ll always be your mate, of course. Do you need help hiding the body or something?” Remus explained quietly. Dead brother he could work with. Probably.

“Remus, I’m perfectly capable of hiding a- No, that’s not what I did!” James insisted at a much louder volume than Remus had been using. “And I haven’t killed anyone yet, least of all Regulus bloody Black, just to ease that overactive mind of yours.”

Remus huffed. “Then what did you do?”

“I let him in,” James said, quieter now. He turned back to face the river rather than Remus.

“You… let him in,” Remus repeated, trying to understand. He really thought he was better at understanding his friend than this, but Remus was quite lost now.

James nodded, still looking rather forlorn, at least in the profile.

“... to your… heart?”

James turned back around to look at Remus fast enough Remus was starting to worry about his neck. “What- My heart?”

“Well, what the hell else could you have let him into?” Remus asked, a bit louder than the forest would appreciate he was sure, but that didn’t matter so much now. He was with James.

“The house, Moony!” James shouted back and gestured somewhere behind them and a bit to the right. “I let him into the house!”

Remus blinked. “Oh. Well, that does make more sense.”

James just raised his eyebrows at his friend and bit down on his lips, trying to hold back laughter. “My heart, Remus?”

“Well, I-! I mean-! It’s still early!” Remus defended, his voice cracking just a little. He’d been so focused on not thinking about all the harm that could have befallen Sirius that his mind was having some trouble switching to a different topic. Besides that, his mother had woken him up to deliver the note several hours before he normally left bed in the summer.

“It’s mid-morning, Moony!”

Remus shook his head and opened and closed his mouth, searching for some kind of argument. He gestured in the air, hoping some words would find him if he simply acted as though we were already saying them. It didn’t take long for no such argument to find him, but a fit of laughter to find James. Remus joined his friend soon after, too relieved that nothing had happened to Sirius, and nothing too terrible had happened at all to fight the evidently infectious hysterical laughter. 

After they’d both fallen over and were lying on the soft grass, Remus looked up at the leaves of a tree stretching above them as they moved with the breeze, allowing sunlight to stream through occasionally. They were quiet, trying to catch their breath now that the laughter had faded, and Remus took another moment to try and understand the scope of what was unfolding before him. Though, try as he might, he simply couldn’t fathom it.

“So, Regulus Black is in your house?”

James sighed. “Last I knew, yeah.”

“But why?”

Remus felt James’ shoulder shrug next to his. “Said he got kicked out.”

Remus moved to lay his head sideways on the ground and look to his friend as James continued to look skyward. “ Regulus Black got kicked out?”

“S’what he said to me out on the porch.”

Remus watched James’ profile for a moment before he turned his own attention back towards the leaves and branches above them. It must’ve been the truth. You couldn’t lie to a Potter on the porch. They’d been dutifully informed when they’d all made the habit of visiting James in the summer, and they’d all dutifully tried it year over year with little lies, big lies, and everything in between. None of them had ever succeeded out on the porch.

“Sirius wasn’t even kicked out.”

“I know,” James whispered.

“So he’s…”

“Showed him to his room.”

Remus whistled low. “Wait, why is Sirius mad about that? I mean, I can guess, but I’d think he’d- Wait, when did this happen? Just- start over from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened.”

“Well,” James began in a tone that made Remus fairly certain that James wasn’t about to tell him what he wanted to be told. “It all began in the summer of 1921 when my father-”

“Not that beginning, you prat,” Remus cut him off with a laugh.

“The one that begins in March?”

“Try again.”

“The one on the train in September?”

“James!” Remus protested, still laughing.

James laughed with him. “I don’t know the beginning, Moons. Not the real one at least.”

“He just showed up? Knocked on your front door? And you answered it?”

 James hummed in agreement. “Thursday, middle of the night, so I was the only one up really. Said he needed a place to stay.”

“And Sirius?”

“Was off in Greenwich with you by the time I woke up.”

“Oh, right. Saw some nice flats by the way. Missed you.”

“Thanks, Moony. I’d rather have been there honestly.”

“Well, it certainly may have made for a less dramatic last few days,” Remus agreed good naturedly.

 “At any rate, Sirius was gone before I could tell him. Then Mum made me promise not to let him back in the house without him knowing about Regulus. I couldn’t find a good time until we were headed back home after our… outing, so it’s not as though Sirius was in a particularly patient mood when it came to death eaters when I told him one was in our house.”

“So he is one then?”

James let out a breath. Not quite like a sigh, more like he’d held it for a moment then let it all out at once. “Actually no. Not quite. He hasn’t taken the mark, or I’d’ve never let him in, but I don’t know if Sirius believes me on that one, actually.”

“But why’s he so mad you brought me all the way out here?”

“I wrote you because he just won’t talk to me.”

“Won’t talk to you?”

“Barely even looks at me. Won’t talk to mum either, but he’ll talk to you. He has to talk to you, or Sirius Black will have run out of people to talk to, which I can’t imagine going very well.”

“You’re right about that. Sirius never knows when to shut the hell up.”

James laughed a little.

“But what do you think I’ll be able to do? What do you want me to do?”

James shrugged again. “He needs someone now, and he’s made it clear it can’t be me. Or even my mum since she refuses to let Regulus leave until she’s certain he has some place else to go.”

Remus hummed in understanding before letting his eyes close. It really was peaceful out here. The sun was shining, leaving everything warm, but there was plenty of shade to keep everything pleasant. There was the smallest of breezes coming through the trees just kissing his face and teasing through his hair. The river was flowing, providing a lovely soundtrack to the latest tragedy they were living through.

When Remus opened his eyes again, he found James was beginning to sit back up. Remus followed suit, watching James as he went. He wanted to ask James how he was, and not just with Sirius not talking to him anymore. He knew it was rather futile though. Ever since James and Sirius had begun their ‘outings’ as James called them, Remus had noticed a change in his friends.

He knew his friends would be and had been changed by whatever Dumbledore had asked of them, wherever he sent them. He’d known it since the moment Peter had told him that he had begun working as a double agent at the end of fifth year. He simply hadn’t known how quickly and how entirely the world would be altered by taking part in a war that hadn’t fully broken out yet. It hadn’t taken long at all for Peter to begin staring off into the distance in the middle of conversation, to start pulling away from them, to drop conversations altogether. He still hadn’t really come back to them.

James and Sirius had descended similarly into… something once Dumbledore began using them. Remus wasn’t sure what it was they’d descended into, and they’d done it so differently from each other Remus couldn’t make much sense from it all. Since that first day they’d all met, he’d known James and Sirius were two halves of the same coin. Soulmates in the purest sense of the word. They were nearly always in agreement about everything without even having discussed it prior. To have them react so differently to the exact same events made Remus question the very reality they were living in. 

Sirius had grown just a bit more volatile. He’d initially seemed rather preoccupied with it. He’d brought it up whenever he and Remus were alone together, which had only been a few months really, but it had felt much longer. His laugh had also grown more and more hysterical whenever he did laugh.

James, who’d overshared the entire time he’d known Remus, ignored it all entirely. James, who always said more than he’d intended to, wouldn’t say a word about any of it. He wouldn’t tell Remus anything no matter how, when or where he asked.

 

Oh, you know how it is, Moony. Fighting the forces of evil one wizard at a time.

 

He wouldn’t admit anything was wrong or different.

 

You’re seeing things, Remus. My face is the same as it’s always been. Look, see? Smiling all nice and big, just for your handsome face.

 

It drove Remus a little insane. Mostly because he did know things had happened. Terrible things that kept Sirius up at night and made him crawl into Remus’ bed. Awful things that he could only say in the dead of night when everything was dark and they were lying on a bed next to each other, facing the canopy full of stars Sirius had charmed for all of them sometime in either second or third year.

 

It was awful, Remus. They- They’d been burned. I can’t decide if it’s worse if they were burned alive or if it’s worse if they were burned after, disrespecting them until the last.

 

It was as though Sirius were consumed by it all while James was determined to pretend none of it existed. As someone who’s entire life had changed over the course of one terrible evening, Remus should’ve known better than anyone that such things happened quickly and without warning. Still, he wished he knew how only a few months had turned everything around so quickly. He wished even more that Dumbledore had let him join his friends; but the professor had been adamant that he had plans for Remus that began after graduation, and that those plans would be put in jeopardy should Remus expose himself to any death eaters.

Remus pulled in a breath and held it for a moment, long enough to feel his own heartbeat once, twice, three times before he let it all out as quietly as possible. James looked around at the assembled gear to his left. It was no use thinking of all the what ifs now. He needed to focus on the present, and in the present he couldn’t ask James what he so dearly wished to ask. So he asked something else.

“So am I meant to face the beast alone then? Or are you going to be brave for once and face-”

James laughed loudly, interrupting Remus. “Oh, I have faced that beast plenty. It’s your turn now, Moony.”

Remus reached out and kicked at James who only laughed harder. He reached around and shoved at Remus’ leg. Remus just kicked out at him again, a little harder this time.

“Why the hell do I keep getting attacked over all this?” James asked, affronted.

“Have you considered you simply make the best target?”

James gasped in offence.

“Or maybe you just have a severely punchable face,” Remus suggested next.

“And this is how I’m treated. After inviting you over here, letting you into my home-”

“Regulus is the only one you did that too. I just followed you out here in this bloody forest against everyone’s better judgement.”

James just smiled that crooked smile of his that Remus was far too familiar with. The smile that meant trouble. “Still afraid of some trees, Remus?”

Remus smiled back. “You would be too if they had it out for you.”

“I keep telling you, the trees do not-”

“They absolutely do! You just don’t see it because the forest loves you, and they all leave me alone when I’m with you.”

“It’s a forest, Remus. It doesn’t love anybody,” James protested before standing and offering a hand to Remus.

Remus took the help then turned towards the trees, away from his friend. “You see? He doesn’t even care! I respect you! As my mother taught me!” Remus called out a bit aimlessly.

James laughed. “They’re only trees, Remus!”

“They are not, and even if they were, the creatures that live here aren’t only anything,” Remus defended. “Honestly, you’re all making my mother out to be a liar,” he grumbled as he brushed off his trousers.

“How’s that?”

“ Dod yn ôl at fy nghoed,” Remus answered before gesturing for James to begin the journey.

“What’s that mean?”

“To return to my trees,” Remus began as they entered the forest proper, away from the little open area by the river James had been inhabiting. “It means the trees are meant to be a lovely, safe and calming place to be.”

James reached out to catch Remus a moment before he tripped on something he couldn’t see. Remus huffed and gestured at the ground after James helped back onto his feet proper.

“Perhaps it would work better if these were actually your trees,” he suggested with another crooked smile.

Remus grumbled some more, but said nothing intelligible. They completed the rest of the trip in silence, uncharacteristic of the James Remus had known for years, but more in line with the James he’d gotten to know more recently. Much more quickly than he’d found James, Remus found himself facing an open lawn and a house directly in front of him a small distance away. He made the conscious decision to not remark on it.

“Has your stag grown?” Remus asked, not quite wanting to leave James’ side immediately.

James gave a little laugh. “Sirius seems to think so. What do you think?”

By the time Remus had turned from the house, James was already turned into a truly huge stag. His antlers spread above them like a particularly complicated crown, beautiful and a bit stupefying. James had always been a lovely looking stag, but Remus hadn’t had to tilt his head back to look him in his large dark eyes ringed with darker fur like he was still wearing his specs before. Well, he had but at least before it had been a slight thing like trying to look in his eyes while they were both human.

“Merlin’s beard, James!” Remus took a step back so he could see his friend better and easing his neck a bit. “Were you this large at the last full?”

James as a stag blew air from his nose and shook his head a little.

“Well, don’t you notice the world getting farther and farther away?”

Again, James blew air at him.

“You can’t just be a stag,” Remus said with full confidence, really only stating an apparent fact. “Look at your antler. You must be something else like Pete and Sirius.”

James shrank back into a human facing Remus at that, a wide smile splitting his face, all joy and pride. He opened his mouth to say something, but Remus quickly shoved at him, quieting him.

“Don’t even start with me. Just tell me, what do I get for going in there and trying to talk some sense into a man famous for resisting all logic?”

“My unending love and devotion?” James offered.

“Already have that, Prongsie,” Remus answered with a smile.

“Ah, my treat next time we’re in London?”

“It’s always your treat whenever we’re anywhere.”

“Promise I’ll help with Sirius’ Christmas present this year?”

“Actually? You won’t just set me up so you give him something you know is better?” Remus tested with a raised eyebrow.

James grinned, clearly caught before he sighed and gave a defeated nod. “Actually. Promise.”

“Deal.”

Remus reached out and James took the hand for a shake immediately.

“Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Remus looked over his shoulder as James retreated back into the forest, nearly immediately disappearing amongst the trees that protected him just as he protected them, and Remus was reminded of his own private little theory. James, like Peter, was some form of magical guardian, but he didn’t have much time to mull that over at the moment.

Remus turned back to the house.

The grass was still green. The sky was still blue.

And Remus? Well, Remus Lupin needed a moment.

Notes:

So sorry for the delay on this one. (And also that it's a bit shorter.) Hopefully the next one can come out a bit sooner.

Chapter 5: everyone thinks you're an angel

Summary:

In which Sirius does his best.

Sirius Black hadn’t thought… Well, he hadn’t thought much in general. He didn’t like thinking all that much, as a rule. Life was simple as far as Sirius was concerned. Things were either right or they were wrong. It was thinking that got everyone all tied up in useless, irritating, binding knots. Sirius much preferred his freedom.

Sirius didn’t need to think. The world was a simple place. Certain things were bad and certain things were good. He knew what he had to do when it was important. No thinking required, only simple, good action. He knew the difference between right and wrong, unlike his birth family. He didn’t need to ponder over it, worry if he was right or not. He knew what was good and what was bad.

Deatheaters were bad. All of them. No exceptions. If you sided with a homicidal, genocidal maniac you were bad. There was no reason for siding with him that Sirius could excuse. The so called Dark Lord was bad. His parents were bad. They had also ideologically sided with said maniac, but they’d been bad before that. Controlling, restrictive, holier than thou and yet incredibly hateful. They were everything Sirius had grown to hate in the world.

The Potters were good. Well, the current ones at least. They believed in the truth, in justice, in freedom. They believed in good things, and James wasn’t just good. James was the best. Meeting James had been like finding a bit of himself he hadn’t known was located somewhere apart from him. Remus and Peter were also good (they would be the best if it weren’t for how spectacular James was) and the parties responsible for most of their collective thinking, so really, Sirius hadn’t needed to bother much with the whole thinking thing.

Then there was everything that had been happening. Everything that Peter had been separated from them for, and everything Remus had been excluded from. All because of one man. Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore was… annoyingly complicated Sirius had come to discover. Before, he’d only been their headmaster. Someone who looked out for them, protected them. Someone good. Dumbledore was against the homicidal maniac, which was good. He’d given James and Sirius ‘special’ greaves when they’d first started going out, which Sirius had thought meant he was good. They were armor, protection - good things.

Then Remus had found an enchantment embedded deep within them when he was going through the charms on all of their other gear. An effort from Remus to try and do as much thinking for the both of them before it was actually needed. The enchantment on Dumbledore’s greaves was one that would affect their feet and legs upon activation. An enchantment that would render them immobile upon someone else’s command.

Remus had tried to reason it was for their protection. Dumbledore could keep them from charging into dangerous situations with that enchantment, and Sirius couldn’t exactly deny that James and him were prone to such charging. Still, it bothered him. It made him need to think because Remus was shut out from everything, and they hadn’t told James. James needed something to believe in still, and Sirius couldn’t bring himself to take Dumbledore off that ever dwindling list for James just yet.

So Sirius’ ability to move through life without thinking, as he preferred, was waning. Fortunately, Sirius had finally found a home, a family. He’d found a place to call his own, one that didn’t require him thinking. One that felt safe and warm. One that protected him, and he protected in return. He’d assumed James would be as committed to keeping and maintaining this little piece of safety, of home, as Sirius was. James was the same as Sirius, always was, always would be. James was good, the best.

Evidently, Sirius had been wrong about his little brother.

Again.

Now, everything was ruined.

Again.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening.

Again.

He had a home, a family, a little brother.

Again.

And he was about to lose it all.

Again.

Because, of course he was. Because, in Sirius’ own completely correct opinion, he was obviously cursed, and had been since he was a baby.

Here he was, laying in a bed he wasn’t sure was going to continue to be his. He hated it. He hated not knowing. He hated feeling so disconnected from himself, from James, but there was no helping it.

James had defended Regulus.

James had defended a death eater.

Thusly, it must follow that Sirius’ entire life was ruined, upended, forced to begin again.

James had let a death eater into what he’d thought was their home. After everything they’d seen, it was inconceivable to Sirius. It was a betrayal, plain and simple.

The irony wasn’t lost on Sirius. He hardly had room to hold a grudge over a betrayal, but it wasn’t the same. Sirius had made one drunken mistake whilst also unknowingly under the effects of a potion Snivellus had cooked up. They’d all hated him for a year. Not that Sirius hadn’t deserved everything he’d got, but that was all for one awful night. They’d been right to hate him in his opinion, as they’d been right to finally get over it. 

This was infinitely worse. 

James had let Regulus into their home. James had let him in then kept it from Sirius for an entire day. This was different. This had been an intentional desertion of goodness. There was no just getting over this after enough time had passed. This was evil. This was letting evil in. This was letting evil win. This was-

“I came all this way,” Remus’ familiar voice called out and broke Sirius from his spiraling. He sat up immediately to find Remus leaning against his open door frame, a bored look on his face, “and you’re just going to lay there like an uncaring slug?”

“Moony!” Sirius yelled and tried to get up only to get tangled in his blankets and fall off his bed and onto the floor. “Ow.”

Remus, with all the audacity, laughed.

“Good, good,” Sirius grumbled against the floor from under his duvet. “Have a good laugh. Join the universe.”

Remus walked into the room still chuckling. He crouched by Sirius and pulled the duvet back, letting Sirius get a good sideways look at the man from his one exposed eye. Good old Moony. Always the rational one. He was wearing muggle clothes which Sirius took some comfort in, jeans and a band t-shirt that Sirius recognized from their shopping in London last summer. He was pretty sure the band was Swedish, but they sang in English. They had some fun if annoyingly catchy songs. Remus also had on mis-matched socks which meant he’d dressed in a hurry for some reason.

“The universe, Pads?” Remus asked gently, smiling.

“Yes, I’m a great big joke to the universe, haven’t you heard?”

“Oh yes, of course.” 

“I am!”

“And I’m agreeing with you,” Remus replied calmly, a look in his eye that suggested he very much was not agreeing with Sirius. “The man named Sirius Black that can turn into a great, big, black dog is definitely the man who serves as a joke to the universe. Not the man named Remus bleeding Lupin who’s been cursed by a psychotic werewolf. How could I have missed that?” Remus asked as he settled onto the floor beside Sirius, not bothering to try and move him.

“Not everything’s about you, Lupin,” Sirius grumbled some more before he pulled the duvet back over his face. “My life is over!” he shouted into it.

“Still seem fairly alive to me,” Remus, who continued to have all the damn audacity, said, and then, finding yet more audacity somehow, actually poked at him through the duvet like he was testing to see if Sirius was actually dead or not.

Sirius kicked out blindly, missed hitting anything, and then received a swift smack to the leg that had struck out. Sirius barely felt it, could in no way claim that it hurt. Still, he curled a little bit in on himself.

“Remus, please,” Sirius whined.

Remus sighed, but didn’t say, or do, anything more.

Sirius was content to lay on the cold floor for another few moments in the quiet until he did eventually get bored. He sat up and let the duvet pool in his lap, turning to face Remus and rest his back against his bed.

“What are you doing here anyways? I thought I wouldn’t see you for another couple days.”

“James sent a note,” Remus explained dispassionately.

“Then you know. You know my life is over,” Sirius argued with a nudge against Remus’ thigh with his foot.

“Sirius, I don’t think-”

“My life is over!” Sirius insisted.

Remus sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“If it’s not yet, the death eater now living here is going to realize it can be, come up and kill me in my sleep!”

“Oh, really? Regulus is going to come upstairs and kill you in your sleep?” Remus asked tiredly.

“He absolutely would!” 

Remus only nodded and adjusted his seat on the floor, trying to get a bit more comfortable. He moved to sit next to Sirius, leaning back against the bed with him. 

“I just can’t believe it! I left! I finally gave up on him, on all of them, and left him behind! I got the hell out of there, forgot all about him-”

Remus snorted.

Sirius ignored him.

“-and now? Now, he’s come to poison this place too. I can’t believe our parents weren’t enough for him, that he needs to keep coming after me until he’s taken everything!”

“Are you done yet?”

“I- I just- How has he already got to James? How has he already taken him?”

“Take that as a no.”

“How could this have happened?” Sirius continued, gesturing emphatically as Remus ducked a little when needed with practiced ease. “Bordel de merde. He knows what it was like for me back there. He’s duelled my stupid brother enough to know he’s bloody well on their side! He knows what death eaters are like! He knows! He knows everything and still that little prat is getting in everything and fucking it all up! Sinking his bloody little fangs in- Just how? How does this happen?”

“Like you said, you’re a great big joke,” Remus said calmly.

Sirius flailed out and hit Remus.

“Hey!” Remus yelled as he caught Sirius’ arm from striking out again, cold fingers pressing into his forearm with enough pressure that it wasn’t quite comfortable.

“Can’t you pay attention, here? My life is falling apart and you’re making jokes!”

Remus threw Sirius’ arm back at him. “I thought you were the joke?”

“Ta gueule!” Sirius reached out to push at Remus, hoping to knock him over, but Remus came right back and struck out at Sirius’ middle. “Hey!”

“Well, stop attacking me then!”

“Well, stop being an arse then!”

“I’ll stop being an arse when you calm down for about three entire seconds.”

Sirius groaned until it turned into a somewhat quiet but drawn out yell. Then he got to his feet, unable to continue staying still. This was impossible. How could he not see? How could Remus be so- Had Regulus already gotten to Remus too? The idea circled Sirius’ heart with icy sharpness. Had he already been well and truly abandoned?

When he turned back around, he found Remus already standing and giving him a hard stare. Whatever Sirius was going to yell next died in his throat.

“Are you ready to have a conversation now?” Remus asked quietly, but not quite calmly anymore.

“No,” Sirius insisted and looked away from Remus, fear and anger already mixing to keep Sirius from even attempting to think.

“Because you’re scared I’m going to make sense and you want to be mad at James for longer?”

“Because there’s nothing to have a conversation about, Moony!” Sirius half-yelled and gestured wildly, though Remus had had enough sense to stay outside of Sirius’ reach, trying to pull up that fiery anger and use it. He needed something he could use, something he could count on.

“So James lets Regulus in the house, a house with a room specifically set up for him, might I add, and you’re just through with him?” Remus asked, voice tight.

“He’s a death eater!” Sirius fully yelled. He gave in to the itching feeling crawling up his legs and began pacing as well, eyes on his walls and looking through the clouds Euphemia had painted as if they might help him hold on to his last shred of truth, of certainty.

“You really think James would’ve let an actual death eater in the house, Sirius?”

“Wouldn’t have thought it before now, but evidently I was wrong!”

“He says Regulus isn’t actually a death eater. He hasn’t taken the mark.”

“Je m’en fous. Ce fils de pute. Il -”

“James said he asked out on the porch, Sirius,” Remus cut in, strained now like he was holding back. Sirius knew he should care about it, but the words had caught him far too off guard.

Sirius looked to Remus instead of his clouds. “He what?”

“Are we going to have a conversation about this, or are you just going to keep shouting?” Remus tested, arms crossed.

“I- No. No!”  Sirius demanded angrily after being dazed for a moment. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He had to know. He pointed an accusing finger at Remus. “There’s no use having a conversation about this! So tell me now, are you on their side or my side?”

“You’re joking,” Remus said flatly.

“I’m not. Him or me, Remus.” Sirius insisted, voice now gone quiet and cold. He hated how much of his mother he heard in it, but he couldn’t be bothered at the moment.

Remus scoffed.

“So you’re choosing him then?”

“Sirius Black,” Remus threatened with a low voice, something of a growl hidden inside of it. “Don’t you dare make me choose between you and James.” His challenging eyes bore into Sirius’. Sometimes, Sirius forgot a little how powerful all of his friends were, how dangerous Remus could be when he was still himself and not that cursed form.

Sirius couldn’t help the half-step back his foot took.

“Let’s be clear here. I do not give a single fuck about Regulus Black aside from the fact that he is your brother, but between you and James? We both know who has earned my unquestioning loyalty.”

Sirius held Remus’ gaze for a beat, two, three, then he looked away, old shame burning through him, chasing his anger away. It left him tired and hollow. He wished for the anger back.

“Sirius,” Remus said, gentler now.“What exactly do you think happened?”

“Regulus has been trying to get James on side for who knows how long and he’s clearly finally done it?” Sirius suggested, exasperated and flinging his arms out wide, just begging Remus to try and prove him wrong.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Remus asked incredulously.

“Well, what do you think happened if you’re so smart?”

Remus just sighed again. “James told me Regulus turned up in the middle of the night, James made sure he hadn’t taken the mark yet, and then he showed him to the room Effie made for him. What else do you think could’ve happened?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, but he defended Regulus from me. That’s more than just him letting the little prick inside,” Sirius insisted.

“Defended how? He said you weren’t in a particularly patient mood when he told you, but that’s all he said on the matter.”

“I- I came home as fast as I could to try and get rid of him, but James stopped me. He got between me and Regulus and fought me until he had me up against a wall. He defended Regulus,” Sirius explained, hoping that now Remus would finally see reason. He’d see that James had abandoned them.

“You’re an idiot,” Remus said instead. “ That’s why you won’t talk to him? Won’t look at him?”

“What the hell?” Sirius asked, thankful some strength was finally coming back to his voice, to his body, even if it was misplaced rage. “Where do you get off calling me an idiot over that?”

“Dos I chwara, malwr,” Remus muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Wha- Don’t just curse at me in Welsh. Insult me to my face, tête de noeud.”

Remus shot him a look and Sirius felt his chest fill a little. The fight coming back to him.

“I’m calling you an idiot, oh so helpfully in English you French fuck, because you’re being an idiot!”

“How can you say that? James-”

“I’ll tell you when you’ve calmed down.” Remus interrupted before turning away from Sirius and gesturing lazily in the air at nothing.

“Non! Tell me now! Je suis calme!”

“Yes, yelling at me in French really displays just how calm you are. Go on. Scream a bit. I’ve got time,” Remus said plainly and helped himself to Sirius’ bed.

Sirius took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I am calm,” he repeated, quieter now.

“Oh, sure you are.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Sirius was already shouting again. He took a step toward Remus who only smirked at him.

Sirius blew out his breath and turned away from his friend, instead choosing to scream unintelligibly at his walls. Yelling at Remus always ended in one of two ways. Either, Remus had enough of his bullshit and charmed him silent through any number of spells, or it was rather like yelling at a wall anyways, completely unresponsive. Before he could attempt to form any thoughts about it, about Remus’ inevitable disappointment, he stalked closer to one of his walls and threw an arm out to punch a hole in it. He felt a little bad as one of the enchanted clouds Euphemia had placed there scattered under his fist.

He heard Remus make a little huffing sound behind him, but Sirius just took another step forward and then rested his forehead against the wall he couldn’t have said how many times he’d punched before. “Je n’y crois pas. Il est maléfique. Ils sont maléfiques. Ils sont tous maléfiques.” He whispered, mostly to himself, doing his best to ignore the desperation even he could hear in his own cracking voice.

Remus didn’t say anything. Just let Sirius stand there, scrambling to hold on to the last few things that made sense in the world, letting his temper fade just as quickly as it arrived as it usually did.

“So what was he doing then?” Sirius asked, still facing his wall, but Remus, the audacious man he was, answered anyway.

“By keeping you from blasting a hole through your own brother? Haven’t the foggiest, Sirius,” Remus replied flatly.

Sirius turned around and leaned back against the wall to study Remus.

“He was defending Regulus,” Sirius insisted though he could feel his confidence in that conviction wavering as Remus stared at him, unimpressed.

“Was he? Or was he stopping you from doing something you might regret?”

“Je ne regrette rien. ” Sirius asserted stonily.

“Nothing, really. Impressive,” Remus replied, something complicated on his face. Anger in his eye, but a strange twist in his lips that didn’t quite match.

Sirius didn’t say anything, just stared Remus down as Remus’ face slowly relaxed.

“Would you like to find out? What James was doing?” Remus asked innocently enough, though the new glint in his eye suggested to Sirius that Remus knew exactly how the next few hours were going to play out and he couldn’t wait to be amused by how stupid Sirius and James could be.

Sirius sighed. “You want to go ask him?”

“Seems like a grand idea, enaid. He’s in the forest. Let’s go.”

“I hate you,” Sirius muttered as Remus passed.

“The feeling’s mutual, Padfoot. Come on,” Remus called as he moved towards the door.

Remus was already out the door and moving down the stairs by the time Sirius pulled himself away from the wall and followed. He made it down the stairs without incident, but paused at the bottom, keeping Remus’ back in sight while trying to check for Regulus. Or Euphemia. When he didn’t see anybody else, Sirius continued following at somewhat of a distance.

Remus paused when he made the edge of the forest and turned to look at Sirius. Sirius, for all his ire, couldn’t help his smile and shook his head at his friend. Even if he hated Remus and his rationality at the moment, he was still their Moony. He changed into a dog without comment. While he believed Remus was likely exaggerating how much this forest had it out for him, Sirius did believe the forest only really liked James.

Remus reached out a hand and threaded his fingers through the fur on the back of his neck, just between his shoulders. They’d made it a few steps before Remus chuckled softly.

Sirius turned back to look at him a moment but kept on, ignoring the vaguely glowing tree he could now see just behind Remus.

“You’re so much bigger now. Are you all going to just keep growing? Leave me behind altogether?” Remus asked softly.

Sirius snorted and shook his head. He’d never leave Remus behind, not willingly. Not ever.

“Sure, sure, but Sirius, I have to reach up a bit for this now. Couldn’t you have found a normal dog to transfigure into?”

Sirius couldn’t exactly respond to that as he was, but didn’t need to. They’d had this conversation before.

“Yes, I know. Nobody really chooses their animagus form. It finds you or you find it or whatever. I’m just saying, Pete splits his time between normal to slightly small octopus and something I still have nightmares about when he’s got the fucking space for it.”

Sirius barked once softly, agreeing. When Peter had first successfully pulled off the animagus transfiguration, Sirius had been absolutely prepared to see a rat or a weasel, something small and sneaky and maybe a little mean, standing before him. Instead, they’d all found themselves staring at a little octopus waving his tentacles around. 

It wasn’t until Peter had gone into the lake at Hogwarts, goaded into trying to make friends with the giant squid by himself and James, that they’d found out Peter’s form was really only limited by space available. Out of water, he was small. In water? However big he could get. It had been the first time Sirius was genuinely scared of their smaller friend.

Remus had gone searching for answers afterwards of course. Animagus forms were meant to be real animals. They didn’t know of any animals that could change shape like that. And then James’ stag had begun to grow, spawning more and more antlers every time he changed. And now, James stood much taller than any stag had any right to, and looked as though he’d lived fifty years judging by his ‘prongs.’ Alongside James, Sirius had begun growing as a dog as well. He wasn’t quite as mind-boggingly and fantastically large as Peter and James, but Remus was adamant that none of them were in the least normal.

Sirius often tuned him out after he got that far in explaining his theories. He knew Remus was working on some theory about why the three of them were the way they were. On self-deprecating days, Sirius was pretty sure he’d decided they’d grown more powerful to deal with Remus’ curse. On more rational days, Sirius was pretty sure he remembered Remus mentioning something about ‘guardians’ and the like.

Sirius felt a little pull on his fur and looked back to find Remus slowing down, head turned away from Sirius. He nudged at Remus to pull his attention from what Sirius thought was a perfectly normal looking patch of grass but Remus seemed somewhat drawn to. Remus finally looked back to Sirius, away from the grass, and smiled a little sheepishly.

“I’m telling you. This damn forest…”

Sirius just snorted and shook his head again. It wasn’t long before they found the small river and James sitting beside it, clean gear spread all around him. He didn’t look over at them, but Sirius knew James knew they were there. He always knew. Especially in the forest, especially in his forest.

Quite suddenly, Sirius found himself furious at James all over again. There was no reason to have put them all through this, and yet James had seen fit to do it anyways. He twisted free of Remus’ grip and then nudged him with the side of his head again, telling him to stay put. Remus seemed to agree but tried to give Sirius a warning look. Sirius was too busy running at James to care.

James turned to look at him just in time for Sirius to run into him, knocking him over and sending them both rolling.

“Ow, what the hell?” James yelled as Sirius growled with his mouth open, only snapping his teeth when he was sure he wasn’t in danger of clamping down on any flesh. He was pleased when he ended up on top, letting his weight drape across James and trapping him on the ground.

“Fuck you!” James yelled as he shoved at Sirius’ face and tried to twist to get out from under him. “Fight me like a man you overgrown mutt!”

Sirius obliged and immediately punched James in the face then leaned forward to grab and slam James’ wrists into the ground. “Should’ve stuck with the mutt, Jamesy-boy,” Sirius snarled from his seat on top of James.

James just laughed at him. “You should have too.” Then he bucked his hips and twisted just hard enough to create a bit of distance and get James moving towards being on top. Except when Sirius’ back hit the ground, he was no longer holding wrists. He was holding the legs of a stag.

James reared a bit, pulling his legs from Sirius’ grip. Then Sirius set to twisting about on the ground, trying not to get stomped by the angry stag glaring down at him as best he could.

“Oh, honestly,” Remus said, exasperated.

Sirius finally managed to roll away completely from James. He was a dog again by the time he’d regained his footing. James startled a little, legs going a bit stiff, before he turned around and sprinted into the forest.

Sirius barked after him and gave chase. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this. It wasn’t even the first time they’d done this where Sirius was mad at James. Still, the forest made sure to keep it fun. The terrain was never the same and half the game for Sirius was just trying to avoid all the possible traps the forest seemed happy to throw in his way in favour of James. James never seemed to have to avoid anything. Instead, James liked to occasionally twist about in the air as he pranced, taunting even as he continued running.

The greenery all began to blend together at a certain point, and somewhere between the third and fourth time they’d run through the clearing Remus was in, Sirius began to get tired. He also began to see Remus’ point. 

He’d been raw from their outing, ready to deal with death eaters, real ones. There was no telling what he might’ve done to Regulus if he’d gotten his hands on him, and now he remembered Regulus wouldn’t have been able to defend himself. Not here. Not now. It wouldn’t have been a duel. It would’ve been an ambush. James may have been right to stop him. Now the only question Sirius had was if James would still get in his way or not. He needed proof that James was still on side, that he could still trust James as he always had.

The sixth time Sirius saw Remus, he slowed to a stop.

“Oh, good. You’re back,” Remus said dryly from where he sat on the ground, leaning up against the tree James had been leaning against. He had James’ leather duster in his lap and his wand out.

Sirius turned back into a man and looked up to see James cautiously enter the clearing from the far side, eyeing him warily. Sirius held his hands up as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are we done now?” James asked as he walked closer, now on two feet, and not breathing hard really.

“How the fuck aren’t you out of breath right now?” Sirius asked, annoyed.

James only shrugged with that familiar lopsided grin like trouble.

“I thought we’d been going more or less that way the whole time,” Sirius said and pointed to the forest behind James, choosing to ignore that.

“I thought so too,” James agreed, turning to look at the woods with confusion clear on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you both that this forest hates me?” Remus asked, still looking at the duster, the tip of his wand now glowing a faint blue and pouring a smokey spell onto the duster, covering it in some enchantment or charm.

“It’s a forest ,” James protested.

“Probably hoped you’d trample me if I’m being honest,” Remus insisted.

Sirius watched him for a moment before insane laughter began to bubble up inside of him and he had no choice but to release it. He flinched away from the stinging jinx Remus had apparently thrown his way, but it didn’t slow down his laughter much.

“Why the fuck is Peter in Scotland?” Remus asked, sounding very irritated now. “Why has he left me alone to deal with you lot?”

“We’re not that bad, Moony, come on,” James protested as Sirius’ laughter finally began to die. He looked up to find Remus glaring at James, not as hard as he could’ve been, and James smiling back at him, as charming as ever.

“Only you, Moony,” Sirius finally managed. “Forest wants you trampled. Honestly.”

James looked over at Sirius then, still something guarded and careful in the line of his body. “Are you going to come at me again?”

“Would you let me have a go at our unfortunate house guest now?” Sirius asked back, still ready to go on the offensive at a moment’s notice.

“Sure,” James agreed nearly immediately, and Sirius relaxed. “Though Mum would hate it,” he added after a moment.

“Alright then,” Sirius said and nodded at James.

James immediately relaxed and smiled back at Sirius. Sirius saw Remus moving out the corner of his eye and turned to find Remus staring back and forth between the two of them.

“I hate you both,” Remus finally said. “All that, for nothing?”

James shrugged again and Sirius smiled wide.

“Not nothing. I can have a go at Reggie now. I’ve always wanted to.”

“You’ve had several goes at him, Pads,” Remus pointed out.

“Now I can have another go. I’ll always want to have a go at him.”

“Why is Peter never here when I need him to be? You deserve air time.”

“You take that back!” Sirius demanded.

“Oh, those are fighting words, Moons,” James said, still smiling though now Sirius could finally really hear it in his voice. “Please fight him. I love watching you put him in his place.”

“Excuse you?”

“I don’t want to fight him. I want Peter to wrap him up in one of his tentacles and wave him about. Maybe get some of his ink in his eyes. Leave him laying helpless on the ground so he’s at my mercy, but I don’t want to fight him.”

“Peter would never turn on me like that!” Sirius insisted.

“Oh, Peter absolutely would,” James said. “He’s good like that.”

“You call betrayal good?”

“I call you laying on the ground after having been waved about good,” James replied with a harsh smile. The one Sirius knew he’d picked up from Sirius, all predatory and sharp.

“What have I done to deserve this?”

James just pointed at his face where Sirius’ one good punch had already left a bruise.

“What haven’t you done?” Remus asked back.

“Traitors, the lot of you.” Sirius said with some amount of dismay.

“I am not,” Remus insisted. He opened his mouth to say something else but Rook appeared suddenly in the middle of them all, bringing a fresh scent of leather with him. Sirius bit down on the impulse to sneer at the creature for his interruption. James didn’t like it when he was rude to the little elves.

“Seems a bit late for lunch,” James said, head cocked to the side in confusion.

Rook turned to look at Remus.

“Oh, right.”

Remus climbed to his feet looking somewhat relieved, probably at the prospect of leaving the forest once more.

Rook stared at James for another moment.

“We’re going! Promise I’m coming in the house, alright?”

Rook nodded once then apparated away.

Sirius turned from his friends before they saw the remnants of whatever sour look he knew he had on his face. He didn’t need another lecture on how not every house elf was Kreature, on treating the house elves with kindness. Not now.

“Come on then,” James said with a friendly, if a little rougher than usual clap on Sirius’ shoulder. “Let’s go see Mum. Oh, maybe your brother will be there and you can have that go at him.”

“One can hope,” Sirius said with a smile as James’ arm slid around his neck, a familiar weight.

“I hope you both trip and fall,” Remus said. “I cannot believe you both. I was having a perfectly fine-”

James’ arm left Sirius a bit as he reached behind to catch Remus as he tripped over a root Sirius hadn’t noticed before. Sirius laughed and didn’t bother paying attention to whatever James and Remus were saying now.

Everything was fine now. Everything was fixed. Everything would go back to normal now. At least, if Sirius did much thinking, that would be what he thought. Regulus would leave soon, take the mark like he wanted, and then James and he could throw Regulus in Azkaban like they wanted. Nothing had to change.

James was good. Remus was good. The world made sense once more.

Everything would be good.