Roses And Thorns
Lily rests her chin on her palm and purses her lips as she watches James' miserable expression. She sighs loudly and ostentatiously, but he ignores her, lost in his thoughts.
"Hey," she nudges him gently, to which he hums. "What's up? A marital quarrel?"
"Uh..." James's gaze is still a bit absent, Lily shakes her head with concern etched on her face, "I guess."
"What's the matter? You can talk to me, you know that."
He scratches his chin, frowning. He's not sure if she's the one he wants to talk to about it, or if he wants to talk about it at all, instead of trying to forget the ridiculous sadness he feels somewhere in his chest.
He's never found it pleasant to think about his feelings, but he just can't help himself this time. Even if he could do something about it. He could get busy planning some new mischief with Sirius, whose knowledge of and skills in fuckery could not be matched. Or he could go to Peter, who keeps alcohol in his underwear drawer. Or go get Remus, who has something even better tucked away somewhere. That was his initial plan. But Lily's touch on his shoulder is so warm and compassionate that James's heart melts.
"I'm not sure, Lils." He clicks his tongue. "Every time I see him and Barty I think it's me who should be there. With Regulus. Me, and not him. I don't know. It's just... his existence makes me angry, but on the other hand, I know that I have no right to be mad about it. He's friends with Regulus. They were friends before me." He winces.
"You're literally jealous," she laughs softly, but her grip on his shoulder still feels reassuring.
"Yeah, Peter said that too. But I've never been... so jealous before. It's like I can barely control myself when I see them standing next to each other. And it's not like me," James confesses quietly, looking away. "It's a new feeling for me, and I hate it wholeheartedly."
"You should tell him instead of being rude to him. Maybe that's what he came for. To talk. But you brushed him off," Lily muses.
James grits his teeth. "Or he came to break up with me."
"What? Merlin, you're exaggerating," she says, smiling sympathetically. "Why would he? You haven't done anything wrong other than being a little... dry. That's not a reason to break up with someone right away."
"No. You don't understand."
"Yeah, I don't. It makes no sense to me. He's still your boyfriend, so at least try to communicate with him in a healthy way instead of hurting both of you, okay? You are overthinking, James," she assures, her lips curved into a horseshoe shape. He snorts, as he looks at her.
"I just can't tell him that. He'll be uncomfortable." And possibly spit in my face.
"But now you're the one who's uncomfortable. You should do something about it, James. Talking about your feelings should never be taken as a problem," Lilly whispers, trying to be as convincing as possible. Her voice is gentle and quiet, "it sounds to me like you feel threatened by Barty. You're afraid he'll replace you, right?"
James nods hesitantly. Maybe that's how he feels, and Lily put it in the right words, but he's still not happy with the way it sounds. That is pitiful. His feelings sound pathetic. It's almost as if he thinks he's not enough. And even if that's the case, it's always been his goal to pretend he's above it. Above envy and beyond insecurities. But she says it so casually, as if James hadn't spent his life pretending to be always confident.
"I don't want to lose Regulus," he says, his voice quavering.
"I know."
"So, er— are you saying I should threaten Barty back?"
Lily opens her eyes wider, she is completely surprised. "Well, no... not exactly." She scratches her neck. "You misinterpreted my words a bit, but if you think it's going to do any good..."
James presses his lips into a thin line. In fact, he didn't even listen to Lily closely enough to be able to interpret her words in any way, but since he had already unconsciously given them some meaning and Lily theoretically, if only partially, agreed with him, he automatically thought it was a good idea.
I mean... at least that's an idea. Two minutes ago, he had none.
It all felt a bit like craziness because he wasn't used to it at all. Yes, many times he felt infatuated with someone. But he'd never been so... pathetic about it before. So honest. So dedicated.
And the craziest thing was falling in love with Regulus Black, because James kept silently asking if he loved him back. Many times. Repeated the same question to the same person. But he expected a different answer each time.
He would drop a vague query at parties and Quidditch matches. In the corridors and on the path to Hogsmeade. In the classroom and in the dormitory. On break and in the library. And the answer always seemed to be someone else's name.
Bartemius.
James grits his teeth in anger, unsure if he really wants to do this or if he will regret acting under the influence of negative feelings. But he already knows he will. He always acts on his emotions and then tries to understand his own deeds and never succeeds.
But he can't ponder forever, clutching Regulus's book under his arm. He can feel his sweaty fingertips starting to bother him, so he loosens his grip.
Barty notices him. Oh, no. Now there is no second option. No turning back.
He stands still, feet seemingly glued to the stone floor, and just watches as Barty snorts and strides toward him with a cocky grin.
"You're an idiot, that's for sure, but I didn't know you were also a thief," he says, wrinkling his brow and looking James straight in the eye with a cold gaze, "and that's never a good combination."
"What?" he asks with a confused face, turning his head slightly to the side.
Barty towers menacingly over him, and although he's not much taller, he seems to be poking his nose so high that James feels like a clown standing on stilts is about to pull a stunt on him.
"The book," he hisses, "how did you get it?"
James blinks and makes a disgusted face as Barty takes a step closer. He waves his hand in front of his nose as if to chase away the unpleasant smell invading his nostrils and smiles mischievously.
But the smile disappears from his face as Barty's hands quickly reach for the book and tug at it, wanting to snatch it from under James' arm.
"He gave it to me," he growls, tightening his grasp.
Barty tries to tug again and snorts, wrinkling his nose in the process. "And I'm about to give you a reason to hit the Hospital Wing."
He clenches his jaw and takes a swing, yet Barty quickly catches his wrist with his free hand and drives his nails into James' skin with all his strength.
He pushes him away, releasing his grip, but Barty's other hand follows the rest of his body, tearing the embroidered cover in the process.
A scrap of cloth hangs from the book as they stare at it in terror.
"What the hell did you do?" Barty hisses, his eyes wide as he runs back up to James and clenches his teeth.
James, meanwhile, turns the tattered cover in his anger-trembling hands and scowls. "Me?!"
Barty bites his fingernail. "Merlin, you're so hopeless that it's a wonder you haven't been sorted into an orphanage."
"And I'm still curious how come you, with those ears, weren't sorted into the kitchen, where the elves belong," James snaps.
"You're such a nitwit that this spot belongs to you rather than to me."
"And your face is so ugly, that I would rather be anywhere as long as I have a guarantee that I won't see you there," James hisses, while gesturing vigorously.
"Leave before I do something that allows me to see a Thestral," Barty threatens, calming down and gently placing the book in his hand. "I'm taking it to Regulus, and I'll tell him what you did."
"It was your fault!" he snarls, clenching his fists.
Barty sighs loudly and ostentatiously, turns on his heel, and looks at James with disgust painted on his face. "You're no good for him, Potter. Get your shit together, I don't care. Whatever happened between you two, you better apologize on your knees."
"Oho, you are so invested. So tell me, why is he the one who is upset? Since I'm the one who got rejected!"
Barty crinkles his eyebrows. "What? No."
"I know it."
"Ha? Merlin, did you think that—" Barty rubs his temples in amusement, "—you thought he was going to end it? He just wanted to talk, you bloody moron."
"Huh? About what?"
"I'm not going to explain it to you. It's up to you to fucking make him want to deal with you now. Put some effort into it if you want to have him."
"I've been putting in the effort all the fucking time! I was building a relationship that you, as if nothing ever happened, tore down using just a few words," James hisses through his teeth, "don't fuck with me."
"Fake relationship. You need to try harder for a real one, Potter," he scoffs, "do better."
James would be able to believe that Remus appears to be at least listening, but no one could trick him into believing that his friend's complaining is of any interest to Lupin. Although he does occasionally interject some comments, for which he should be given some credit. And not once did he tell James to stop waffling, which should also be appreciated.
Because this has been going on for an hour now, and Remus still turns his head to the wall every time he yawns. He tries to make appearances, and that's even.... pleasing. Though his efforts, however small, are still unnecessary, because James doesn't even glance at him, he just talks and talks, sometimes he seems to be repeating the same sentences. And the same name.
To be honest, he doesn't even look like he needs a listener. He seems to be rather.... just thinking out loud.
But such pondering is good in his case. Remus thinks that since this is the price he has to pay for James to warm up the rusty cogs in his brain, he's willing to pay it. He will sit here and try to prick up his ears.
It is, to some extent, amazing to him how James is acting now. If you think about it, he has never before been preoccupied with something to the point where he had to ask Remus to listen to his complaints.
In fact, he had never before asked anyone for something as trivial as a conversation.
James Potter prefers to be left alone with everything that's going around in his head. Then he either replaces it with something else, some new thought, another offbeat idea, or throws it off the tracks like a toy train running on a plastic structure.
"... And he tugged at his book, you understand that? Cheeky asshole. And at the end he said he would put all the blame on me for destroying that cover." James, irritated by the memory of this moment, plays with his fingers. "I thought I'd chop him right there on the spot."
Remus lifts his gaze for the first time in a few seconds, as if to let his friend know he's not falling asleep at all. "Wait, so you're telling me that...." He sits down on the bed and draws his knees to his chest, "....you followed Regulus and Barty and overheard Barty professing his love for him, so you thought that when Regulus approached you, it was to break up your pretend relationship, so you weren't going to talk to him to prevent that from happening," he concludes, raising one eyebrow.
"Well, to be more accurate, I didn't hear him, well— profess his love for Reg, because I left. I couldn't listen to it any further, but..." James scratches his neck.
Remus straightens up, and his back makes a funny croaking sound. "Listen, Prongs. It sounds to me like Barty wants to force you to show that you care more about Regulus than Lily. Why would he do that if he fancied him himself?"
"Er, I don't know— but you weren't there. It was obvious that he confessed then."
"Practically, you weren't there after that either, so we're in the same position."
"Yeah, I guess..."
"So you, just like me, can't be sure that's what they were talking about, or that Regulus wanted to break up, since you didn't give him a chance to say anything," Remus says, his tone is calm and James hates how logical his words seem. "So my advice is that you do as Barty says and show that you care."
"But how?"
"I don't know, Prongs." Remus shrugs. "Write him a poem or something. He looks like he writes sad boy poetry."
"A poem. Can be done. Thanks, Moony."
The problem is that James is not exactly a... proper poet. He knows how to speak in words that come straight from the heart and that are sincere and filled with emotion. But he is rather unsuccessful at embellishing them and dressing them up in beautiful envelopes. Usually his words have a nice meaning and a less nice sound, and the point of poetry is that it combines both of these.
He is just a simple fellow with a good spirit and plenty of motivation, but this does not change the fact that he suffers from the intermittent availability of... handy resources. Which means that he would happily follow Remus' advice, if only, well... someone had gifted him a Shakespeare dictionary. Or just any dictionary, for that matter. Or just did it for him.
Essentially, he can't write poetry.
But he knows someone who can.
"You know, you are quite romantic.... right? You have such a, er— ancient soul," he mumbles shyly.
Marlene raises one eyebrow, unsure how to interpret the words ancient soul, but since it was James who said it, she has no other option but to ignore it.
"That doesn't mean I'll be able to write a poem for your pretend boyfriend!" she says, the corners of her mouth lifting in disbelief. "It's supposed to be a poem from you anyway!"
"Listen, Marl, I am a man of action, not words," he replies, which is met with a sigh.
"Why are you doing this then?" she asks, "are you going to recite a poem to him in front of everyone in the Great Hall? If so, I warn you that he is unlikely to appreciate it."
James clicks his tongue, turning his face toward the wind that blows his hair off his forehead. "No, it's supposed to be just for him."
"From you and me?" Marlene laughs.
"Me. Just me. When it comes to you... I merely want a little help. You can, for example, I don't know.... change some words so that they sound nicer."
"Why?"
James bites his lip. "Merlin, can't you just help me? What kind of interview is this?
"I just can't understand why you need the help of a professional like me to write the best possible poem for someone you're just pretending to be with," she says calmly, her eyes seeming to have some playful gleam in them. "Or are you not?"
"When did you become so inquisitive?" James mutters in displeasure, "forget about it, I can manage."
"No, no," Marlene waves her hands in front of his face and smiles, "I was joking. Come on, sit with me. James, I'm happy for you."
"Oh, well, no. You shouldn't. He hates me."
He brushes the dust off the wooden bench, avoiding his friend's gaze and sitting down next to her. Marlene quickly grabs his hands and places them on her knee, pouring a concerned look into him.
"Why is that?"
"Firstly, I was a little, er.... mean to him. We had a fight because I was jealous of him. And I also dare say that he now thinks I used him to win Lily's favor, which in his opinion worked out, so I just don't care about him anymore. And that is obviously not true," he confesses with shame. This fear that one is no longer needed, because from the beginning one was only.... well, a part of the plan, stings his heart as well. He understands. "And because of Barty, he also thinks I destroyed his book," he says.
Marlene grunts, her thumb stroking the outside of James' hand. "Maybe, in fact, part of this can be solved with a poem, but I don't know if it will glue a tattered book together."
"Yeah, I know."
"So why don't you buy him more books, rich boy?" Marlene laughs, but James remains serious.
Oh, well. Maybe that cover was indeed special, but he can, after all, buy him many better, more interesting and more exclusive books. Not exactly the same, especially since its greatest value to Regulus was sentimental value, but James' efforts must ultimately be at least a little appreciated, right? And even a small amount of appreciation is better than no appreciation at all.
"You are right," he says, a little comforted by now. "This could be my backup plan, I think. If Remus' idea with the poem doesn't work out."
"It will work out, for sure."
It didn't work out.
James notices him immediately, almost stumbling down the step. Regulus is waiting for him in front of the classroom; his back is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and he impatiently stamps his foot, staring wearily at the ceiling.
James corrects his hair, then loosens his tie. Sirius shakes his head with resignation and greets his brother with a wave of his hand. Regulus raises one eyebrow as he watches James push his way through the students crowding the middle of the corridor.
"Here you are," he says, yawning ostentatiously, "finally."
"Were you waiting for me?"
"No, Potter. I'm standing in front of your class recreationally, why?"
James smiles friendly, but awkwardly. His palms are sweating, so he rubs them together.
"Oh, that's too bad. I was already hoping that perhaps you missed me."
Regulus snorts. "Tch, that's something I wouldn't even dream of if I were you," he makes a disgusted grimace, long eyelashes fluttering as he sweeps James with an appraising glance. "I found your poem."
James grins his teeth in embarrassment. "Oh, yeah. And? What do you think?"
Regulus' facial expression is stern as he takes out a scrap of parchment and looks at it for a moment, licking his lips and moving his assessing gaze over the words written in black ink. "It's even a bit like your hands unburned, caught the sun in your fingertips," he grunts mockingly, continuing, "as if you were drawing warmth to us. Warmth, that spreads throughout my body."
"And you make me feel like a river of honey flows through my veins," James interjects, "yes, I know what I wrote."
"Oh? Do you? I dare to doubt it," Regulus says sharply and wrinkles his eyebrows, crumpling the parchment in his fist and throwing it on the floor right in front of his feet. "And that's what I think."
James bites his lip, looking down at the trampled poem with a mixture of... undefined feelings. Sadness, anger, embarrassment, shock and something in between.
"I can try to write something better, if you're being such a finicky art critic," he says in a bitter tone.
"Potter." Regulus crosses the parchment and stands in front of James, looking him gravely in the eye. "I want nothing to do with you. I don't want to see or hear you. Nor do I want to know that you breathe somewhere near me. I will not be your fucking option."
"I know. That's why I have never treated you as an option."
"Come on, Potter." Regulus turns his face away. "You're only humiliating yourself."
James reaches toward him and wraps an arm around his shoulder, but Regulus snorts and pulls away quickly, walking away and ignoring the name-calling behind him.
"I can't believe Regulus is actually going along with this," Barty says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, he's always been so uptight about his image and reputation."
"Exactly. And when it comes to having a reputation, we are rightly talking about bloody James Potter. I mean that he is quite a thing all over Hogwarts." Evan snorts. "But it's just so noticeable that he is smitten with Reg."
"Noticeable to everyone except Regulus himself, of course," Barty says with a smile while swinging his foot left and right like a leaf-shaped pendulum dangling under a cuckoo in a clock. "My guess is that he probably hasn't even tried to think about it. You know him. He just immediately shuts down the topic if it has to do with feelings, unless you force him with a wand at his throat."
"Mhm. And you don't want to do that," Evan mutters, his arm resting firmly on Barty's shoulder.
"But just imagine— If they were for real, yeah? It would be weird to see Regulus all lovey-dovey and out in the open like that," Barty comments, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, "they agreed to keep their relationship public and casual, but are the only ones who treat it seriously."
"Mhm. Way too seriously."
"And they already experienced their first relationship quarrel, too."
Evan doesn't answer, just lowers his chin so that the tip of his nose touches Barty's heated cheek.
"Do you think we should help them? You know— reconcile?" he suggests, trying to stay in his current position, but Crouch's warm breath on his jawline seems to have just been absorbed through his skin, traveling through his veins and dissolving his brain so that it floats in his head like sticky gelatin the color of a jelly bear.
"Aren't you one of the reasons for their quarrel?"
"That might be true," Barty ponders. " Well. To be honest, that must be true. I truly despise Potter, I bet he already caught on to that. But I just can't stand to see Regulus so upset, you know."
"Since when have you been involved in charity work?"
"Charity work for the benefit of animals? Ah, yes. I wanted to support your species a little," he teases.
Evan smiles slightly and places his hand on Barty's knee, stopping the wiggling of his leg.
"But you know, it still puzzles me. Regulus seems to be experiencing all of this as if he's locked in some kind of bubble," Barty says quickly, trying to breathe evenly as slender fingers glide over his skin until they reach his exposed calf. "He doesn't care at all what people say about him and ignores all comments completely, as if he hasn't at all become the most interesting gossip walking down the corridors in quite some time."
"Mhm."
"The other Black and his head boy lover or some other shit. This will be a literal headline in the newspaper soon, mate. I'm telling you," he says under his breath, "actually, why do they always write about him as the younger Black or the other Black? It's pissing me off. Can't they simply use his name?"
"Barty."
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever shut up about Regulus?" Evan asks, but his tone seems rather amused as his hand tightens on his friend's thigh.
"Sometimes. But he's my best mate, isn't he?"
"If he is your best mate, what does that make me?
Barty bites his lip as Evan stares at his face in profile, his cheeks resting on Barty's shoulder.
"Er— You are something better."
"Mhm. And what could possibly be better?" he asks curiously, his expression is playful as he tries to cover his smile with his other hand.
"I don't know, Evan. You tell me."
"No, you do know."
"I guess you are my best best mate in that case," Barty says. His tongue seems to run down his throat as a sign that he should not have used it this time. There's a quick feeling of regret that stings him mentally as he cringes. He often says things as if he's spitting them out like too-hot food steaming his mouth.
Evan's shoulders twitch at the faint giggle he emits. "I'm afraid that doesn't exist."
"No, it does. You do exist," Barty leans in, muttering these words into his ear. His back, hitherto resting against the soft carpeting on the wall, begins to feel uncomfortable, so he wriggles a little. "You are living proof that there's such a position."
"What if I'm just a dream of yours?" Evan pretends to think, rubbing his chin. He pulls away from Barty's side and straightens his back.
"Then I don't want to wake up."
"Merlin," says Evan, teeth bared in a wry smile, "you're such a flirt. You'd better keep your mouth shut from now on."
"Or what?"
"Or you might get me excited," he says flirtatiously, a devious smile on his face because he knows that Barty is susceptible to all his words.
"Stop saying such things. What if you get my hopes up?" he asks, pouting.
Evan runs his hand through his hair. "Oh, so you can flirt with me, but I can't flirt back?"
"Exactly."
"That doesn't seem very fair."
"Because it's not," Barty smiles giddily as he stands up and stumbles over a stack of books. "And you'll have to come to terms with it."
It is possible that Regulus is a bit ignorant. Maybe even a little bit very much. But it's something stronger than him, something deeply rooted in his whole system and something his nerves and veins end up with, like the stem of a rose which, when cut diagonally, has somewhat sharp ends.
But that doesn't make the rose any less beautiful, any less pleasing to the eye, does it? Maybe its young shoots green or red-tinged or those already older, somewhat wooden and covered with gray-brown cracked bark are full of allure. And maybe even its thorns are one of the main parts of its appeal, and the rose's prudishness is just a confirmation of its charm or misinterpreted self-confidence.
All of Regulus' flaws can easily be turned into advantages or explained by his experiences. Or they could be called a test of endurance, a sort of natural selection, only that not necessarily natural and not really selection. Yet, merely the mentally strongest can put up with him. The most resistant ones. And that means something, it reveals a certain truth about him.
It reveals that Regulus may have beautiful blood-red petals and may smell pleasantly, but he also has a lot of thorns that injure the fingers of anyone who gets too close. And some call them ugly flaws in his upbringing, others say it's a matter of awful character. Few, however, know that thorns are, in fact, not the malice of flowers, but their means of self-defense.
Just imagine being an ordinary flower and having only a few spines to defend yourself. Such circumstances force you to be clever, don't they? Alas, stags are not afraid of rose thorns and bite off only the sweet buds. And there are very few clever solutions to situations like this one.
James pins a hopeful gaze on him, and the sparks in his eyes dance to the rhythm of the edges of his mouth rising tentatively.
"I hope I managed to hit your taste," he says. "I already got to know it a little bit, so it was easier for me."
"Tch. The only thing that will hit here is my fist in your face if you don't give me a bloody break already." Regulus rolls his eyes with an irritated expression. "This is the only thing I want from you. To leave me alone. So don't try to overdo it."
"Come on." James extends his hand amicably toward him, but he evades the touch. "Reg. You can't be mad at me forever."
"I can, actually."
"I swear to you that Barty is just as guilty as I am, and somehow you're not angry with him."
"Yeah, maybe so. But it's not about who did it, it's about who I needlessly trusted to take care of my damn book." Regulus snorts. "Did you really think that if you bought me a whole fucking library, that would do the trick?"
"I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry. I don't know what to do to make you forgive me. I can't turn back time, Reg," he says, his tone seeming downright weepy, and Regulus can't hold back another snort.
"If you could, I'd like you to take us back to December," he hisses, "where I didn't have to look at you every day and put up with your idiocy. It's not even about my book anymore. You humiliated me."
"How?" James wrinkles his nose, the sparks in his eyes have already given up dancing. They aren't even at a standstill within the confines of his pupil, but straight up gone.
"See? Idiocy," Regulus says, "you are the perfect definition of idiocy. But if you must know, my fireplace made friends with your books, so at least you were useful for something."
"No. Tell me, how the hell did I humiliate you?" he asks, "I don't understand your reasoning."
"That's on you."
"No, it's not. Explain it to me."
"Why should I?" Regulus asks with a sneer, one eyebrow raised, mouth twisted in a sly gesture.
James doesn't hesitate. "Because you like me. We became friends and you can't deny it."
And that's the exact problem, Regulus thinks, we shouldn't be.
"Oh? Me and you? Enlighten me, please, since I don't recall it," he says instead.
"Well—"
"Or just bugger off. I would appreciate it."
James grits his teeth as Regulus walks right past his nose with an impassive face, and he can't grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a piggy bank trying to get the last few coins out of it.
He wishes he could force an explanation out of Regulus, force him to talk frankly, without all that sarcasm and irony. He would very much like that, and his hands itch with helplessness as he turns his head away from Regulus' receding back.
That's when he catches Barty's gaze, who is nonchalantly leaning against the wall with his arms folded, shaking his head mockingly with a smile.
James can feel something under his skin, below his ear, pulsating unpleasantly. He clenches his fingers into a fist and decides with all his will to turn around and walk away, ignoring Barty, who derisively yells after him, "still not good enough, Potter."
What the hell does he think would be good enough?
And what if James finally gets tired of chasing after Regulus?
He should be busy with something else anyway. An important event awaits both of them. The final match.