toujours pur

However much James wished it, he couldn’t simply vanish into thin air, leaving no trace. Nor could he shut his eyes like some petulant prince, making the world around him disappear. So he watched as Regulus, grunting, hauled himself to his feet, retrieved his broom, which had been flung several feet away, and limped towards the castle, offering his elder brother a final, defiant middle finger.

He watched Remus speak to Sirius as if he was five years old, coaxing and calming. It was absurd. The rest of the team stood nearby, gawking, while the Slytherins smirked venomously, murmuring amongst themselves as they left the pitch.

James wanted to hurl his broom, collapse onto the ground, and weep. But all he could manage was a loud sigh.

They returned just in time for lunch.

James had frozen his arse off and exhausted himself, precisely as planned, so the mug of hot chocolate that Remus nudged towards him with the edge of his palm seemed almost divine.

***

Three days passed before James Potter allowed himself to venture into the library again.

It wasn’t that he felt awkward around Regulus after the Quidditch match… ALTHOUGH NO, THAT WAS A LIE. He felt plenty awkward around Regulus.

And even more awkward around Sirius. Because… He bloody well couldn’t explain to his best mate why, specifically, he couldn’t nod along approvingly to the suggestion of hexing Regulus into oblivion. Moreover, he couldn't even coherently explain it to himself. Why?

Because what were they to each other? Certainly not friends. How could you possibly side against your best friend?

James’s head was throbbing.

He passed the shelves, grabbed a random book, and was already heading towards an armchair instead of their usual table, but it was already occupied.

So brave and Gryffindor of him to hide, wasn't it?

James grimaced and peered around the shelf. He immediately met the younger Black's gaze, offering a lopsided smile and a wave.

"Hi," he said softly, unable to meet his eyes again.

"Hello," Regulus replied, his eyes boring into him.

James, trying not to make a sound, dropped into a chair and set his bag on the floor, opening his book.

"Whatever you're plotting, drop it," Regulus tossed his dark curls. "I don't care."

"What...?" James squinted, trying to look like he was incapable of thought altogether – and rather succeeding.

Regulus chuckled and pointed at him.

"Your book's upside down."

Bugger.

James quickly righted the book.

"I thought Herbology wasn't your thing," Regulus continued to bury him.

"Advanced Herbology," proclaimed the textbook cover.

James removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Listen, I'm sorry that Sirius..."

"No," Black interrupted. "Shut up."

"But I am sorry...!" James tried to argue louder, threatening to invoke Madam Pince's wrath, and Regulus, leaning across the table, pressed a cold palm against his mouth.

James's eyes widened.

"Potter," Regulus sighed. "Keep your pity to yourself, alright?" He looked him in the eye, tilting his head, and repeated, "Alright?"

James’s eyebrows knitted together in a pathetic plea, then he put his glasses back on. Black removed his hand from his lips, and, somehow, it felt even colder now.

"It's fine, if it worries you so much," he rolled his eyes. "All teeth intact, Pomfrey gave me a potion, I'm perfectly fine..."

"He knocked out a tooth?" James's eyebrows shot up.

"Not this time."

James wanted to ask again, but didn't, instead raking a hand through his already messy hair. He looked at Regulus's hands; first furtively, then steadily, frowning.

"You said Pomfrey gave you a potion?"

Regulus nodded.

"From bruises?" James pressed.

Regulus sighed and nodded again.

"Then where did these bruises come from?"

Regulus froze, then tugged down the sleeves of his jumper. His eyes scanned the ceiling, fixedly.

"If you need help… or someone to talk to…" James laced his fingers together. "I wouldn't mind, if you, well… you get it. I won't tell anyone."

It was quiet. The rustle of pages, hushed conversations, unintelligible muttering filled the air, and Black stated clearly, "I don't need your help."

Then, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, he tapped his finger against James' palm, looking him in the eyes, and mouthed, "Thank you."

***

The only thing James understood was that he understood nothing.

Lying in bed, he went over the facts.

First: Sirius had fought Regulus to the point of missing teeth. Well, that was easy to believe.

Second: Regulus had acquired new bruises after Pomfrey had healed whatever Sirius had left him with three days ago. It definitely couldn't have been another fight with Sirius, otherwise James would have known. Sirius wouldn't have kept quiet about that; all of Gryffindor would have been in the loop. It couldn't have been their parents, because enough time had passed since the last holidays for the bruises to heal. Was someone among the students bullying him?

Whatever, of fucking course James felt sorry. He wouldn't tell anyone that, least of all Regulus, but yeah, he did.

And third: Evans definitely hated him. Or, even worse, she didn't care.

They continued to exchange greetings in the common room and in class, but Lily, already a distant and unattainable dream, was only becoming more so. Merlin knew what was on her mind when she agreed to the wager with Macdonald. And Merlin knew what was on her mind when she ignored the opportunity to turn James into a teapot; after all, they had lost the match. She watched, but then simply left.

James imagined approaching her and asking if she was disappointed. Did she wish he'd caught that damn Snitch? Or hadn't she forgiven him for that incident with Snivellus (where he was hardly to blame, if at all)? Would he ever be worthy of her? Did she even have any expectations?

But the imaginary Lily remained silent, looking right through him.

James buried his face in the crook of his elbow in agony. He'd already decided to wake Padfoot up and beg a shot of firewhisky from the strategic stash – to help him sleep, so to speak – when he suddenly heard footsteps.

It was Moony.

Oh, he can't sleep either, James thought, and almost got out of bed. At that moment, Sirius's bed creaked characteristically, as if someone was sitting on it.

Barely audible above Wormtail's snoring, James heard Moony whisper:

"May I?"

Sirius's bed creaked again. There was a rustling of blankets, a shifting about, and then silence.

Right, because the world couldn't possibly have more topics for brooding over instead of sleeping.

James angrily crossed his arms and fell asleep just like that.

***

Mary Macdonald's voice had become surprisingly grating to James' ears. 

When she asked Lily, for the fourth time, what criteria McGonagall had set for next week's essay, he couldn't take it anymore, abruptly rising from his armchair in the Gryffindor common room and striding quickly away. Away, away, anything to be away from Mary, from Lily, from anyone.

Dinner was still an hour away, too early to head to the Great Hall, so he simply wandered the castle. Crossing from staircase to staircase, James chatted with portraits along the way, casually inquiring about their affairs, offering greetings, and the like. He stashed a couple of scraps of parchment with jokes scribbled on them: one in a crack in the door to McGonagall's classroom, one on the staircase connecting the west and south corridors on the third floor, and another tucked behind the frame of the portrait of the Marquise de Renard.

He was walking along one of the darker corridors, idly running his fingers along the wall, when he stopped at a statue he couldn't place.

It was a witch in a pointed hat, holding a willow branch in her hands. Trying not to look at the plaque, he racked his brains, trying to remember her name, when he was called from behind:

"What are you doing here?"

Turning, James saw a flustered Regulus, clutching a stack of books to his chest.

"I'm lost," James replied, smiling at Regulus as if he were another portrait, a beautiful painting that he (strangely) wanted to look at. "Where is here?"

"You're in the dungeons, you idiot," Regulus said without malice, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear, his eyebrows raising in a trusting manner.

"Ah, right... How could I miss all this gloom..." James dramatically clutched at his forehead. "Now it's all clear, I'm here forever."

"What a pity," Regulus scoffed, and that made James abandon his histrionics and grin widely.

"Where are you going?" he asked, as casually as he could manage. Regulus gave him a skeptical look, but answered.

"Need to deliver these books."

"Maybe you'd better lead me out? I don't remember the way back."

Black narrowed his eyes, as if trying to discern the catch, to which James simply shrugged, and Regulus sighed. 

"Fine. Come on."

The sound of Regulus' heeled boots echoed off the corridor walls. James' sneakers squeaked and shuffled, comfortable but far from luxurious. He glanced at them and immediately looked away, trying not to draw attention.

"So... how are you?" James asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Fine, thank you," Regulus replied dryly. "And you?"

"Dying of boredom. Even came down to the dungeons, was going to plant a dungbomb at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, but then I ran into you."

Regulus stopped.

"So, you weren't lost?"

"Of course I was," James hooked his fingers into the edges of his back pockets.

"How can you deliberately come somewhere and be lost at the same time?"

"Easy, when you don't want to run into anyone you know," James replied, wincing.

Regulus opened his mouth as if to say something, but changed his mind, and his lips closed again.

They were already standing near the exit, and, of course, James knew this place.

"But honestly, how are you?" he asked barely audibly.

Regulus shook his head.

"I don't understand why you need to know." He lowered his gaze.

James quietly adjusted his glasses.

"I don't know. I just want to. To reduce the amount of cruelty in this world."

Regulus snorted.

"Thinking about me at night, Potter? About my bruises?"

"Yes," James answered honestly.

Regulus was silent for five seconds, then shoved James in the chest.

"Piss off, hero."

James took a step back and smiled, tilting his head. Then he turned and trudged towards the Great Hall, listening to the receding click of Regulus's heels.

At dinner, sitting next to Sirius and listening to his chatter, he thought about how similar he and Regulus were.