Chapter 1
The dimly lit meeting room was filled with the hushed murmur of voices, all debating strategies, plans, and the best ways to keep the Order's dwindling numbers intact. James Potter leaned forward in his chair, eyes scanning the room, but his focus was entirely on the map spread across the table in front of him. The map of their latest target: a Death Eater stronghold.
Sirius was beside him, muttering about the best ways to break into the place, his usual cocky grin replaced by a furrowed brow. "We can't just rush in, James. We need to be smarter than that," Sirius said, his tone serious for once.
"Smart? We’re talking about a group of people who want to tear us apart," James shot back, trying to ignore the growing frustration in his chest. "What good is being smart when they're out there slaughtering innocents?"
"That’s not the point!" Remus interjected, voice tight. "We can’t be reckless. We’re outnumbered, and we need to be tactical about this. Rushing in without a plan only gives them an advantage."
James ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He hated this. Every single part of him screamed to charge in, take the fight to the Death Eaters, to do what had to be done before it was too late. But Remus was right. They couldn’t afford to be stupid. Not anymore.
At the far end of the table, the usually quiet Regulus Black was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His presence was like a constant tension in the air. No one could forget the weight of his past as a Death Eater, even though he had long since abandoned that life. His cold eyes studied the map, but he didn’t offer anything to the discussion, not yet.
“Regulus,” James said, his tone harsh before he could stop himself. “You have anything useful to add? Or are you just going to sit there looking like you’ve got a better chance of winning this war than any of us?”
Regulus didn’t flinch. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met James’s. “If you’re suggesting I’m useless—”
“Not useless,” James interrupted, voice rising. “But how do we know we can trust you? After everything—”
“Enough,” Dumbledore’s voice rang out, soft but commanding. He had been silent for most of the meeting, sitting at the head of the table with a serene expression that was at odds with the tension that crackled in the room. “James, Regulus. This will be resolved now.”
There was a pause, the entire room holding its breath. Regulus’s face remained unreadable, but James could see the slight tension in his jaw. He wasn’t afraid, but he didn’t want to be here either.
“We need every capable hand we have,” Dumbledore continued, looking between the two of them. “This war is not kind to any of us, and the Order is losing more than we can afford. James, Regulus, you will work together.”
A sharp, collective gasp echoed around the room. James’s stomach dropped. His first instinct was to protest, to argue that putting him and Regulus together would only cause more problems than it solved.
But Dumbledore’s eyes were steady, unwavering. “You’ve both proven yourselves in battle, despite your differences. It is time you learned to work as one. You will go on the next mission together.”
Sirius opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing him. "This decision is final. For the sake of the Order, and for the sake of all that we fight for, James and Regulus will go on this mission together.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. James’s heart pounded in his chest as he exchanged a look with Regulus. The idea of working with him—sharing a mission, let alone relying on him—was as absurd as it was dangerous. But Dumbledore’s word was law. And if he said they would work together, then that was the way it would be.
James’s jaw tightened as he looked back at Regulus, who hadn’t budged, hadn’t shown any sign of protest. He knew better than to argue with Dumbledore. But James couldn’t help the bitter taste in his mouth. The thought of being forced to work side by side with a former Death Eater, a traitor to his own kind, was the last thing he wanted. Yet, somehow, Dumbledore had known this was the only way to make them both see reason.
The meeting ended with murmurs of agreement from the others, but the weight of Dumbledore’s decision lingered in the air. James and Regulus would be stuck together. And neither of them had any idea how it was going to turn out.
But for better or worse, the war was forcing their hands.
James Potter didn’t need to see Regulus Black’s face to know he was there. The bitter taste of tension hung in the air, sharp and biting, as the two stood on opposite sides of the cramped, dimly lit room. The silence between them was heavy, thick enough to suffocate, and James had never wanted to leave a room more in his life.
He could practically hear the sneer in Regulus’s voice as it echoed in his mind: "If you weren't so reckless, Potter, maybe we'd actually stand a chance." James clenched his jaw. His heart was already pounding in his ears from the mission they’d barely survived, and the last thing he needed was a lecture from the person he hated more than anyone else.
"Don’t look at me like that," James muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he finally broke the silence. "It’s not my fault we got stuck with each other."
Regulus’s cold eyes flickered up from the floor. "You’re right. It’s Dumbledore’s fault. But that doesn’t change the fact that your recklessness nearly got us killed."
James felt the heat rise in his chest, fingers curling into fists. "Better that than sitting around waiting for the perfect moment like you, Black." He didn’t wait for Regulus’s response, stalking toward the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. His mind was still racing, his pulse still high. He needed to calm down.
But Regulus didn’t let it go. Of course he didn’t. He never did.
"You think you’re the only one who’s fighting?" Regulus’s voice, barely above a hiss, made James freeze mid-step. "We’re not all blind Gryffindors who rush into battle like idiots, Potter. Some of us have brains."
James’s chest tightened. Regulus was too damn good with words, and his accusations always hit too close to the bone. He forced himself to turn around, meeting Regulus’s glare head-on.
"If you’re implying that I don’t think before acting—"
"Do you?" Regulus’s question was soft but venomous.
The tension between them snapped, like a string pulled too tight. James felt his frustration rise again, and before he could stop himself, he was stepping forward, eyes narrowing. "You know what, Black? I don’t care if you think I’m an idiot. But I’ve fought for the people I love, and that’s more than I can say for you."
Regulus didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, cool and composed. "You think I don’t fight for anything? You have no idea what I’ve been through."
The words stung more than James cared to admit. It was true; he didn’t know. They were enemies, after all. He was a Gryffindor, all fire and heart. Regulus was a Slytherin, cold and calculating. They came from different worlds, and there was no chance for understanding between them. At least, that’s what he’d always thought.
But now they were stuck together. For better or worse, James was forced to rely on Regulus. And as much as it burned him to admit it, Regulus was good at what he did. Too good. Maybe, just maybe, they might survive this war... if they didn’t kill each other first.
James swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "You’re right," he said, the words tasting like gravel in his mouth. "I don’t know what you’ve been through. But that doesn’t mean we have to keep going at each other’s throats."
Regulus didn’t respond immediately, his gaze steady, searching James’s face as if trying to decide whether he was being genuine or not. After a long pause, he turned toward the small table in the corner and pulled out a map of their next mission.
"Fine," Regulus said, his voice low. "But I’m not making any promises."
James nodded. It was a start. But whether or not this fragile truce would last was another story entirely.