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Lonely Dancers

Summary:

We're lonely dancers
There's no need to hide

 

They press against each other in empty hallways, darkened classrooms, and lonely corridors. They whisper from sweet nothings to truth never shared before in the space where one’s ear meets their neck. The press gentle kisses on skin they have marred.
No matter how tenderly these moments pass, how nicely, how wholesome they are, there’s an ugly truth that sits beneath both their ribcages, it drives into their hearts, hurting and hurting, waiting to be acknowledged.

Notes:

hey guys, it is my first time posting in a WHILE so please lmk if there's any tags i can add to this, or i should add to this.
tw: mentions of homophobia.

enjoy.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

In the wizarding world, life of pureblood heirs — whether they be blood traitors or the sacred 28 — was rarely all that much different, no matter how hard the former tried to convince the world otherwise.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

Your lover left you

Broke up tonight

 

They stand in front of each other, James’ back pressed against the wall of the very same alcove that they’ve pretended to make out on for the past 5 months. His eyes are locked onto Lily’s as they both gaze into the others’, there’s understanding beneath the areas where the green and brown clashes, there’s sadness, and there’s resignation.

 

“We were good for a while, right?” asks James, desperate to convince himself that this is not what Lily thinks it is, what he knows it is.

 

Lily only smiles a small, sad smile. “I don’t think we ever were, I don’t think we ever could’ve been.” James shakes his head, averting his gaze as shame and guilt crawls up his spine. “You’re still running, you’re still hiding, and I can not fault you for that. I do not know what it is that you’re hiding from, but I know that, at least for me, it's time to stop.” Lily says, her voice taking on a rather determined edge.

 

The realisation makes James’ eyes find their way back to hers. “You— what? You too?” James asks, disbelief apparent in his voice. This whole time, this entire ‘relationship’, he’s spent nights and days agonising over causing Lily pain, dragging her along, needlessly, only to now come to the realisation that maybe this has helped her just as much as it has him.

 

“I told you in the beginning, this was entirely selfish on my behalf.” Lily confirms, her smile turning more real, almost back to how it used to back then .

 

James grins. “I thought you only said that to make me feel better.” he admits, hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

 

Lily lets out a laugh. “You think too highly of me.”

 

James tilts his head and looks at her softly, "I don't think you think of yourself highly enough.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“No, I don't think you realise how few people would've been willing to do what you did for me, selfish reasons or not. I am endlessly grateful, even though I, now, hope that we can go back to being friends who actually liked hanging out with each other after this.”

 

“Of course we can.”

 

James grins at her brightly, waits a beat, and asks, “So… Pandora?”

 

He delights in the way she turns red to the tips of her ears and the roots of her hair.

 

She slaps his arm lightly before turning around. “I’m leaving before you start spouting more nonsense.” she says over her shoulder as she walks away, James’ laugh following her out.

 

It is only when her figure has completely disappeared from sight that he lets his smile drop and, once again, wonders how many people would still continue looking up to him, admiring him, loving him if they saw him like this, like how he is when he is alone.

 

He wonders if he’ll see the same disdain that he sees every time he looks into eyes that are a mirror of his own. He shakes his head in an unfruitful attempt of ridding his mind of thoughts, thoughts he continues to attempt to convince himself are untrue, thoughts which poison his every waking moment and every sleepful bliss.

 

He gathers himself off the wall and makes his way towards the astronomy tower silently praying for it to be empty of any hormonal couples.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

My lover's busy

Kissin' other guys, oh

 

Regulus snaps his book shut as the sound of yet another moan reverberated through their dorm room.  It was a routine at this point, every other day, a new person would saunter in alongside Barty, panting, gasping, and moaning. The both of them would fall into bed together and 6 times out of 10 forget the existence of silencing  charms as Evan and Regulus would be forced to live and breathe in the same room as Barty getting off.

 

But under the annoyance was that little layer of hurt, the small, traitorous part of himself that ached, and hurt. The little kid inside him who used to stay up late next to Sirius as they read him novels full of love and understanding, oh, he hurt.

 

He knows, though, not in this life, no, he doesn’t get to have that here. Not when he lives under his parents’ thumb, not when his eyes follow the one person who lives a life so full of luxury they wouldn’t even know how to comprehend Regulus’ problems. Not when that person is a boy.

 

So, he lets him have what he can and he lets it destroy him. He lets his indulgences take over his life and wreck his heart, body, and soul. 

 

When he looks over at Barty’s bed, he knows it was him that was pressed over it last night, it was him panting and gasping last night, it was his clothes littered and mixed with Barty’s on the floor. It was him that Evan looked at with green eyes, greener with jealousy.

 

He throws his book against the wall and lowers his face onto his hands.

 

This, this, wretched way of wanting and adoring is all he gets to have, maybe all he deserves, too. Today, it is him that sits up in bed wanting love and deep adoration, tomorrow it’ll be a poor woman forced into his life, hand, heart, and bed by his father. Tomorrow, it’ll be her, here, and him in a man’s bed. The both of them would equally long for comfort and love, her from him, whilst his wretched heart would still desire a man who has never looked twice towards him.

 

He gets up, leaving behind his wretched thoughts, leaving behind his splintered heart as his mind reels with the thoughts that this— this is what he deserves, at least in this lifetime.  This is what he has earned, a life full of touches and kisses that never last, that linger at night, linger every time his mind thinks too much.

 

He climbs the stairs to the astronomy tower, every step removing thoughts from his mind, one by one, providing aid for aches nobody else has ever seen, let alone addressed. 

 

There’s a tremble in his hands when they wrap around the door handle, nerves uproaring for some reason, almost like his heart knows something his mind doesn’t.

 

He opens the door and his entire body stills as his eyes lock onto the very boy he tries so very hard to keep away from his mind. His eyes latch onto the dried tears tracks that taint his face, the redness that has creeped into the margins of his eyes.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

We're both alone now

Tears in our eyes

 

James watches Regulus tentatively settle down on the floor next to him, the apprehension in his movements evident. It’s like he’d never have thought or is unable to comprehend James being here, being here like he is.

 

James would laugh, if he had it in himself at the moment. He can not fault Regulus for his apprehension, rarely ever has anybody seen him like this and those who have never stuck around to see it once again. 

 

He thinks this is life’s way of turning around and smacking him in the face for every transgression he has ever done, for every tear he caused in those early years of his at Hogwarts, for every time he has turned around and smiled when full of pride and cockiness. To have him found by the one boy his eyes track every movement, every little quirk of, the only person he’d be ready to up and leave for.

 

Regulus drags his eyes up from the ground to look at James, not in his eyes, no. His eyes run their course over James’ body, taking in his unkept appearance, a far cry from the nonchalant messy boy he portrays every day.

 

“Are— are you okay?” Regulus asks, his tone making the out of character-ness of the question so very apparent.

 

James does huff out a small laugh, then. “You’re terrible at this.” James notes, his voice teasing.

 

“Shut up!”

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

I know the perfect way

To waste our time

 

If somebody asked James to pinpoint when exactly this happened, he wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. He would think that maybe it started when that first night Regulus smiled whilst telling him to shut up, maybe it started when Regulus broke down at the same spot for the first time and let James wrap his arms around Regulus’ shoulders and be an aching comfort. Maybe it began when Regulus caught James throwing things at the wall of the tower and instead of leaving, only coaxed the glass out of James’ hands and murmured spells where splinters had split his palms.

 

It truly doesn’t matter when or how it began, when it became a this, when it became a thing they did, when it became an expectation from both sides to come up to the tower and find the other there. But, it did. It did and now they provide comfort with understanding that they’ve never received before.

 

However, the same way as it had become a thing, it transforms into something else, something more . Something which should terrify the both of them, the very notion of this something more is what they’ve been running from, and yet. 

 

And yet, slowly they inch closer, knees now touching. Then more, fingertips pressing and sending electric shocks up their arms. And more, feet entangling, laughter echoing, smiles never ceasing. Maybe they should be afraid, maybe one of them should turn around and never come back, maybe the other should snap and break this thing, but they don’t.

 

They don’t, even when they go from knees pressed together, to shoulders pressed together, to hands pressed together, to lips pressed together.

 

They let it consume them, the air that they breathe, the touches that they feel, and the words that they whisper. Yet, they never let it flow into the daylight, they don't let it get tainted by the wretched air of the day time, by the words spoken for and against themselves, by the gazes that linger.

 

They take a hold of it and they keep it hidden between themselves, a hidden truth, a secret, the sun and the stars wrapped between their hands, a treasure to hide.

 

They press against each other in empty hallways, darkened classrooms, and lonely corridors. They whisper from sweet nothings to truth never shared before in the space where one’s ear meets their neck. The press gentle kisses on skin they have marred.

 

No matter how tenderly these moments pass, how nicely, how wholesome they are, there’s an ugly truth that sits beneath both their ribcages, it drives into their hearts, hurting and hurting, waiting to be acknowledged.

 

They grasp this thing with aching fingers and bloodied palms, tightening their holds whenever the truth dares to flare. 

 

If only they were brave enough to acknowledge it.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

We're lonely dancers

Join me for the night

We're lonely dancers, baby

Dance with me so we don't cry

 

Regulus would like for it to be made public knowledge that this was not his idea, however, for it to be public knowledge, his thing with James would also have to be public knowledge.

 

Sometimes, Regulus finds himself just staring onto the ground where they both sit, hands intertwined with one another, and wonders how just four months ago, the mere prospect of having someone he cares for and is also cared for in return, having someone he can exchange easy smiles with, can exchange soft kisses with seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that he labelled himself a delusional whenever his mind ventured to such a place.

 

Yet, somehow life has decided to bless Regulus with this, and maybe it is that knowledge that he'd never been able to have this, before, that has him bending at every whim of James’ (and also seeing him bend just as far back in return).

 

So as he stares at James’ outstretched hand, the background filled with soft music playing from a small box, he will deny having anything to do with the way his hand reached up to clasp itself in James’. Though, he doesn’t know what is worse, the movement being voluntary, to make himself soft for another, or for it to have been involuntary, for his brain deciding that this action was one necessary for his well-being.

 

As he watches James’ smile spread across his face as he tugs Regulus closer, Regulus finds himself marvelling at the beauty of this smile of James, one that is so real and wholesome that now that he has seen it, every other smile he slaps on during the day seems like a cheap imitation.

 

The music playing in the background starts to filter in words, words which James’ lips begin to trace as he moves them along the beat, swaying, tugging him closer and closer, until the words James’ lips were forming are being imprinted against Regulus’ temple.

 

Regulus can feel a content smile cross his own face and can’t find it in himself to rid his face of it as he feels the smile pressing words against his head stretch.

 

They’re not dumb, they’re not stupid. They are far from the young and optimistic boys that they once were, Regulus is far from the boy who considered James to have the heavens at his feet. They know this this is something that they have only for this time, for a short while before it’ll run away, crash, splinter, and shatter, taking their hearts with it.

 

However, they know that having it is and losing is ten times better than that very first night they met with half tears dried and the other brimming on their lashline.

 

So, they smile, and they hum, and they sway.

 

They love, and they adore, and they enjoy, for as long as they can.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

We're lonely dancers

There's no need to hide

 

It’s their first meeting after summer break, it was bound to be catastrophic. James knew that, yet he could never have imagined it to go as bad as it has.

 

It all began with Regulus ranting about his parents and their insistence on him marrying a nice, young, and fertile woman by the end of his next Hogwarts’ year. How the pressure that his father refused to relent was beginning to consume him. It was then that James had given a sympathetic smile and said, "I understand.” only for Regulus to scoff a “yeah, right.” under his breath, something which hurt James a whole lot more than he let on.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James asked, frowning whilst desperately trying to keep his voice level and even.

 

“Come on, we both know how saint-like your parents are, how utterly accepting and pro gay rights they are, if Sirius’ endless rants are anything to go off of.” Regulus replied, his tone still haughty and full of derision.

 

“Firstly, there’s many ways to be pressured by one’s family without facing homophobia. Secondly, really, Reg? Really? You, of all people, should know just how different life is for the heir and the other. After all, you’re the one who has lived both.” James said, his volume increasing with every word, a lump forming in his throat. 

 

Just when he had thought that he got someone who understood him, who saw him behind his mask, he had to be slapped with the realisation that if there had been such a person, they wouldn't have stuck around.

 

“James,” Regulus began, his voice and eyes both softening. “Are— are your parents homophobic?”

 

“No.” James said, eager to defend his parents, hating how weak and unsure his voice sounded. “No.” He reiterated, more resolutely this time.

 

“As you’ve said, they’re fine with Sirius, and Remus, and Marls, and everyone else.” James began, desperate to explain because they’re not. His parents are good people. They just— sometimes, is all, sometimes. “It’s just that they care about the bloodline, they’re both only children, you see. And it is important to the bloodline for heirs to be born with the DNA of their parents.”

 

Suddenly, Regulus is looking at him as though he’s seeing James in an entirely new light, there’s sympathy in Regulus’ eyes, but it is greatly outweighed by his understanding.

 

“Oh, James.” Regulus whispers, his arm reaching out and beckoning him over. “Come here, love.”

 

James goes, and goes, and goes, until he is situated between Regulus’ legs, until Regulus’ hands entangle themselves in his messy hair and encircle his back, until his face is hidden in Regulus’ shoulder.

 

Regulus slowly rakes his hand through James’ hair. “As someone who has seen both sides, I am telling you that just because they’re good parents to Sirius doesn’t mean they’re not bad parents to you.” Regulus murmurs, careful to keep low and soothing, clicking his tongue when instantly James begins to shake his head. 

 

“No, no. Listen to me, James. I’ve tried to convince myself, but it won’t make it any less true. You deserve better, I deserve better, hell, every heir to a pureblood family deserves better, but we don't get it. So, it is prudent to know that you do deserve better, otherwise it’s very easy to fall victim to dark thoughts.” Regulus continues, his voice getting firmer, every word hitting James square in the chest, every sentence wrapping itself around James and cradling him.

 

They stay there for a while until they eventually decide to lay down on the ground, this time Regulus is half on top of James, face resting on his chest. 

 

“Hey,” James begins, his voice light. “What if we run away. You and me, somewhere else.”

 

For a moment, it seems like Regulus might entertain his musings, but perhaps their earlier conversation is too fresh in his mind. Instead he says, “No, I couldn't do that to Sirius.”

 

James closes his eyes and for a moment lets the hurt and helplessness encompass him. “Yeah, me neither.” He agrees. “Maybe in another life?”

 

This time, he feels Regulus’ face shift, probably into another one of his beautiful, beautiful smiles.

 

“In another life.” 

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

I know the answer, baby

Dance with me so we don't cry

 

There’s pure, intense agony that travels up Regulus left forearm as he kneels on the ground of the astronomy tower, his arm cradles in his lap, his breaths coming in shallow and troubles, his face wet with uncontrollable tears running down his face as he attempts to convince himself that it’s fine, he was fine.

 

It is like this that James finds him, the joy in James’ voice lasting for half a second before he’s running over to Regulus and wrapping him up in his strong and steady arms, burying Regulus into his chest and whispering “You’re okay.” repeatedly, pressing kisses onto the top of head between each repetition.

 

Regulus couldn’t be able to tell you how long they stay there, how long they kneel on the floor together until Regulus’ haphazard breaths finally begin to match James’. It is then that James lets him settle back on his own legs, he looks down at Regulus with pure adoration and unfiltered concern in his eyes, a hand cradling his cheek.

 

“Reg, love, what happened?” He asks, his voice soft and careful and it makes Regulus sick because he knows, he knows, that everyone has limits, limits which can not and should not be crossed. His stomach turns and flips as bile rises because he knows however much James loves him, the ugliness which now marks his arm is a line that was never meant to be crossed.

 

Slowly, not meeting James’ eyes, Regulus lifts the cuff of his sweater until the Dark Mark is out in all of its ugly glory and pride. When James is silent for too long, Regulus forces his eyes to turn to steel, something he hasn't practiced in James’ presence in over a year. 

 

“It was this or marriage, I’m not sorry.” Regulus says, his voice hard and unwavering. The hand cradling his cheek burns him as James begins to move his thumb to and fro in a soothing gesture. 

 

“I don’t need you to be sorry, lover. I do not fault you for this. Perhaps in your situation I'd have done the same.” James says, his other hand moving to cradle Regulus’ other cheek before he plants a soft and gentle kiss in the middle of Regulus’ forehead.

 

Regulus, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden, looks up at James through his lashes. “This is all we get, isn’t it? This can’t last.” he asks, naively, knowing the answer before he even asked the question.

 

“Shh.” murmurs James. “Get up, I brought the box again.” James says, voice full of mirth at his quoting of Regulus using ‘box’ to describe whatever that thing is. It takes one long look in James’ eyes to know that he, too, knows the answer to Regulus’ question and that he, too, is running from it as intensely as he is.

 

So, they stand and they sway in the light and classical music that fills the air, clutching this thing with desperation and resolution, with hands which were tainted, wretched, and bloodied but are now coloured with something beautiful enough to transcend the mere boundaries of love, something beautiful enough for people to write stories and poems about.

 

They sway because soon all of these moments that come easy, every night, will become painful memories which soothe and hurt their frail and broken hearts.

 

— ☀ — ★ — ☀ — ★ —

 

Get back up
We'll be alright
Tonight, you're mine

 

 

 

 

 

fin.

 

Notes:

yoooooooo, how is everyone? how was it? (don't tell me if it was bad, i'll cry.)
anyways lmk of your thoughts and opinions and feelings in the comment section (plsplspslpslpslspps) or if you fancy a longer talk, hit me up on tumblr (hedgehog-troops).
leave a kudos or a comment if you wanna make this stupid author smile 3 days before their wretched day of reckoning (igcse result day).

if u saw any typos, lmk pls.

find me on tumblr at hedgehog-troops for marauders and aftg shit, or on instagram at impossiblecrossroads for non-fandom bs.
aiden (they/them).

edit: it has come to my attention that this will be releasedd way after my results (and ive alr got them (they were good!!)) so yeah.