Chapter 7
1977, January 8th - Barty
Regulus Black is so fucking dead.
At this point, I don’t even want to hear his explanation. How the fuck could he be so stupid? Regulus could have anyone in the whole school on their knees for him, but I suppose he always has been picky. But James Potter? I never figured Regulus for someone who’d make such ridiculous decisions without considering the consequences.
I burst through the door to our dormitory. Regulus is lying on his stomach on the floor, focused on the book in front of him. I can hear the shower running, explaining Evan’s absence.
“So, Reg,” I say, voice forcefully calm. “James Potter, eh? Gotta admit, didn’t see that one coming.”
Regulus head shoots up, his eyes blown wide. “What?”
“Keep the fuck up. Potter. He has your ring.”
“How…” Regulus struggles to form words. I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. Maybe I’m overreacting a bit. And it might have something to do with the fact that Regulus keeping this from me stings. He’s never been one to spill everything, holding his secrets close to his chest. But it still hurts.
“Ran into him in the corridor,” I say, deciding against recounting the full situation. “Saw your ring on his fucking finger. How’d that happen, hm? I don’t suppose he just picked it up somewhere?” And here’s the test. To see how much this secret means to Regulus. To see if he’ll deny it, despite the fact that we both know I wouldn’t believe him. He sits up, tugging his knees up to his chest.
“It’s not what you think it is,” he responds eventually, voice deathly calm. “We’re friends.”
“Right,” I scoff. “Because you’d give a friend that ring. Come on, Regulus. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” he snaps. “We’re friends. That’s it. No romance, no sex, nothing that’s swirling around in that mind of yours.”
“Okay,” I say after a moment, letting out a frustrated sigh. I’m tired. Really fucking tired. Being in pain all day is more draining than you might think. “But you like him, don’t you?”
Regulus just stares at me, blinking slowly. Then he lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his curls. “Fucking hell, Barty. Why does everything have to be about this with you? Can’t you accept that people aren’t always looking for more than just friendship?”
I pause, eyes narrowing. “That isn’t fair. Don’t turn this on me. You’re the one who kept this a secret, who made this stupid, reckless decision. Imagine if Sirius found out, huh? And that’s not even the worst of it. James Potter is in a whole other world, Regulus. He can never understand anything on our side. And when we’re done with school, when we all inevitably have to pick a fucking side in this fucking war, then what do you think will happen? After we graduate, the next time you see him it’ll be with your wands pointed at each other on a battlefield. Friends, together, shagging, it doesn’t matter. He’s going to end up breaking your heart, Reg.”
Regulus is silent for a long moment. “I know,” he says eventually, finger tracing a pattern on the floor with a long sigh. “But I can’t bring myself to care.”
I feel some of my anger dissipate. Anger at Regulus, for being so stupid. Anger at James, for dragging Reg into his chaotic, messy orbit. Some of that fades, and I let out a long breath, sliding down to sit next to him.
“I’ll ask this again,” I begin softly. “And not because I can’t accept people being ‘just friends’, or whatever. But because I know you, Reg. Do you like him?”
Another long pause. “I don’t know.” And I can tell it’s the truth. “I gave him the ring,” he continues quietly. “But I’m not sure why. It just felt right at the time. And then something weird happened, something shifted. He said he was lucky to know me. Nobody’s ever said that, Barty.”
“I’m lucky to know you,” I offer. “Evan is, too. And Pandora and Dorcas.”
“It was different when he said it.”
I nod, because I understand what he means more than I’d like to admit. The way something can mean so much more when coming from a specific person’s mouth. The way the words sound so much sweeter on their lips.
“But it doesn’t matter anyway,” Regulus murmurs. “Because I can’t like him. It complicates things too much.”
I roll my eyes slightly. “Reg, hate to break it to you, but feelings don’t work like that.”
“I will make them work like that,” he replies firmly. “And I hear what you’re saying. About how it’s stupid to see him, to know him. I hear you. But I can’t let him go now.” His voice gets very quiet, soft enough that I have to strain to make out his words. He chuckles dryly, head dropping onto his knees. “What a mess, huh?”
“Sure,” I shrug. “But being a mess is what we’re best at.”
“This is all going to be so trivial in a few years. I’ll look back at this and wonder how a teenage love story felt like the biggest thing in my life.”
“I think that’s a good thing.” I nudge his shoulder, a small gesture, the type of physical contact he doesn’t mind. “I think that we’re already being forced to grow up too fast. We should treasure what seems trivial.”
***
1977, January 10th - Pandora
Today is a dull day. I knew as soon as I woke up. Something is off about today, and everyone’s colours are muted to the point where trying to work them out is hopeless.
I feel sick on these days. There’s just a certain wrongness about everything in the world, and all I want to do is bury under my blankets and hide from it. These are the days when the future is messy and crowded and dark. When I see flashes of pain and death instead of the usual view I get, which is like looking through frosted glass at blurry images. But on these days, the glimpses are sharp and clear, though somehow still impossible to make sense of.
I’m sitting beside a window in the library, staring out over the grounds.
Water. Icy cold. Quiet sobbing.
I hate everything today. I’ve barely spoken at all. My head is pounding with the unpredictable flow of impressions. The future is never entirely clear, always missing crucial details that prevent me from ever really understanding what I see. But today it’s even more incomprehensible.
Green light. Screaming. Tinkling music… a baby mobile?
I shake my head, weaving my fingers into my hair and staring down at my lap, trying to calm my breathing.
Something wrapping around my ankle. Fingers clamping over my mouth. Water everywhere. I can’t breathe, can’t breathe, it’s so cold…
“Are you alright?”
Green light again. So much of it, flashing over and over. A hundred forgotten graves.
“Hello? Are you okay?”
Someone is shaking me by the shoulders, and I blink, using the contact to ground myself, to pull away from the dark scenes raging in my mind’s eye. The person’s face comes into focus, and it takes me a moment to recognise her. Fiery red hair. A concerned expression. The brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen…
Green light. Screaming. Grief, so much grief.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back a scream of my own. I can feel every emotion as if it were mine, can hear every sound as if I were standing there. I can sense Lily Evans’s concern shift to panic and I wonder absently if I really have started screaming. The vision passes after a moment and I open my eyes, reminding myself to breathe. Her eyes aren’t the same green as the flashes. No, there’s a difference. Subtle, but there. I focus on that as she asks what’s wrong. Her voice is muffled as if I’m underwater. Her hands on my shoulders are a comforting weight, helping to ground me.
“I’m okay,” I say eventually, though when I reach up to touch my face I find it damp from tears. She doesn’t look convinced.
“We should get you to the Hospital Wing.”
“No.” I shake my head, my head spinning. “No, there’s nothing they can do. I just need to go lie down, I think.”
Lily bites her lip, looking torn. “Pandora, right? Malfoy?”
I make a face at the use of my surname, but nod. “Yes. You’re Lily Evans.”
“Mhm. Do you… I’m going to walk you back to your common room.” Her tone is decided, so I don’t bother arguing. Besides, today is the worst dull day I’ve had in a while. It’d be nice to have someone there if I were to collapse.
“Why are you even here?” I ask as I get to my feet, slightly shaky. “It’s past curfew.”
“Ah… yeah, well, I’m a prefect, so I was actually coming over to you to tell you off for being out this late,” she replies with a laugh. There’s something warm about the way she laughs, and for the first time today, I get the hint of a colour. Reddish orange, like a low burning fire. It’s faint, but if I focus, I can see it. I wonder if it flares brightly when she’s angry. I bet it probably does.
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry. I lost track of time.”
“It’s fine.” She shakes her head, watching me carefully as we walk out of the library. Her eyes are still full of concern. “Uh… what’s wrong, if you don’t mind my asking? Are you sick?”
“It’s a dull day,” I reply before realising she doesn’t know what that means. I brace myself for the usual confusion, the flicker of discomfort I’m so used to getting when I say something weird. And while she does look confused, there’s just a slight curiosity. It’s new, and strange, and infinitely better discomfort.
“A dull day?”
I hum, considering the best way to explain it. “I can see things others can’t. And on these days, those things get really bad.” It’s a simplified version, but I don’t have the time or energy to lay it all out. “I get these visions, but on dull days, they’re all bad.”
“Visions? Like of the future?”
“Mhm.”
“So you’re a seer?” Still that odd curiosity, instead of apprehension and uncertainty.
“Kind of. I just see flashes, glimpses. No prophecies or anything.”
Prophecy. A room full of shimmering glass orbs. The future held in a boy’s grasp. Familiar messy hair and round glasses, but somehow unfamiliar as well. I don’t know this person. Shouting. Screaming. Green light again. Somebody has died, somebody the boy cares about deeply…
I press a hand to my forehead, trying to force the darkness away. Lily’s hand finds my shoulder again and I focus on the weight, the warmth. I can never predict what will trigger it.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.”
After a moment we continue walking in silence. But it’s not uncomfortable. Lily is constantly keeping an eye on me, ready to step in if anything happens. Her colour is still there, and with every passing minute, it grows a little stronger, easier to see. The world brightens slowly but surely. The worst of the day is over.
“You’re like fire,” I whisper. She blinks at me, expression questioning. “Your colour is like embers.”
“My what?”
“Your colour. It’s, uh, something I can see. Like an impression of each person.” Lily tilts her head at me, a smile dancing on her lips.
“Interesting.”
We reach the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room and she turns to face me.
“Will you be okay?” She asks. I nod and smile at her.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She seems to hesitate before walking away, giving me a little wave. I sigh, fidgeting with the ends of my hair as I enter the common room, making my way past a group playing chess and up to my dormitory. My roommates look up as I enter, then quickly avert their eyes. I know they hate me. Or, at least, hate how strange I am. They think I’m crazy. Most people do.
Lily doesn’t, though. As I burrow into bed, not bothering to change, I think back to the way she looked at me, expression laced with a type of interest I’ve never seen before, even with Xen. He was always interested in me because he wanted to figure me out. Lily looked interested because she wanted to know about me. The difference is tiny, but feels huge. Such a little distinction, a technicality more than anything else, but one that means the world to me.
***
Regulus
I wasn’t going to go to the Tower tonight. I really, really wasn’t. In fact, I haven’t gone since that day in the library. At this point, I’m half convinced James won’t be waiting. But of course, it’s a foolish assumption. One I’ve made multiple times now, and it’s always been wrong.
“Regulus,” James says, scrambling to stand up from where he’s sitting against a pillar.
“Hello,” I respond, striding past him to lean over the railing, looking up at the stars. Projecting confidence even when I don’t feel it is a trick learned from Sirius. Our parents never appreciated weakness, so feigning strength has always been a valuable skill.
“You’re here,” James states blandly.
“Observant of you.”
“You’re here and you’re mean tonight,” he huffs, and I can feel his grin despite continuing to stare at the sky. He walks up beside me, arms folded on the railing. “You abandoned me for a bit there,” he continues after a moment, and while he adds a laugh to it, I can hear the slight desperation in his tone. He wants to know why. And I suppose I owe him an explanation.
“I didn’t want to see you,” I say eventually. I’ve been trying to plan how this conversation should go for the past few days. Bluntness is best, I’ve decided. Bluntness and a fair amount of bravery on my part. Sirius would be proud.
I can tell the words are like knives to James’s chest. But I push on, hoping to fix it somewhat. “I didn’t want to see you because it would make an already difficult thing more difficult.” I make the mistake of glancing at him for the first time tonight, and I hate the way my breath catches in my throat. Starlight works wonders for James Potter’s appearance. A silvery glow illuminating his dark skin, eyes sparkling. The hurt in those eyes as I speak makes my heart clench.
“What… what do you mean?” He asks eventually. I can’t bring myself to look away now.
“I shouldn’t have given you the ring,” I blurt out. Great. I’ve already strayed from my carefully cultivated script, hours of planning and stressing thrown out the window. “It was a mistake.”
“Do you want it back? Is that what this is?” James is already reaching to pull the silver band off his finger. Before I can think better of it, I reach out, stopping him by placing my hand on his.
“No,” I reply, pulling away again quickly. “No, that’s not it. It’s just… it was a mistake, James.”
“Why?” James’s voice is pleading. “Why, Reg? What have I done wrong? Is it what I said in the library? Because if so, I take it all back. Fuck, just… please don’t say you don’t want to see me. I can’t bear that. I’m sorry for whatever I did. Tell me how I can make it right and I’ll do it, I’ll do it in a heartbeat, I’ll –” I lean forward and kiss him, cutting off his rambling. I really have strayed from the script. This was supposed to be clean and rational. A simple confession of an attraction I wish didn’t exist, undoubtedly resulting in an end to this friendship. I made my peace with that outcome over the past two days. This was not part of the plan. But right now, I don’t care, because James’s lips are heaven.
It’s only half a second, barely a real kiss, before I’m pulling away, a hand flying up to cover my mouth. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his expression, the disgust and horror certainly displayed there.
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice muffled by my hand before I drop it. I open my eyes but turn away from James quickly, looking up at the sky again. I still don’t want to see his face. I don’t want the hurt that will come with his reaction. “That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I had a plan. I had a whole fucking plan and now I’ve gone and ruined it and I’m sorry and –”
“Reg.” James’s voice washes over me like a wave. There’s something instinctually calming about it to me, and my racing heart slows a bit. I force myself not to look at him.
“It’s just that you were saying all that stuff about making it right even though you didn’t do a single thing wrong, you’ve never done a single thing wrong, and I just…” I trail off as gentle fingers graze my jaw, turning my head so that my eyes meet his. So soft. I would happily drown in the warmth that floods my body, would happily waste my life losing myself in those fucking eyes.
“Reg,” he repeats, barely a whisper. And his fingers pull me closer until our mouths can meet again, and my body is on fire. James is like the sun, burning me in the best way. Setting me on fire and chasing away the cold. When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open slowly, reeling from the kiss, my mind refusing to catch up at a reasonable speed. James kissed me. I kissed him and it was a mistake but clearly it wasn’t because he kissed me too. I stare up at him, and he holds my gaze patiently, waiting for me to say something.
“What?” The word tumbles from my lips, because apparently I’m incapable of stringing together a proper sentence. James laughs softly, his fingers still on my chin, tilting my head up slightly.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” he responds, voice quiet. Careful. As if he’s afraid he’s going to mess something up. I shake my head, stepping back and away from his touch.
“You weren’t supposed to do that,” I say shakily, pointing one finger at him as if convicting him of a serious crime. “You weren’t… it doesn’t… you aren’t supposed to…” I hate how weak I sound. He tilts his head at me, a smile dancing on his lips. Arrogant bastard.
“There’s something I never thought I’d see,” he muses, leaning his side against the railing. “Regulus Black, stumbling over his words.” I glare at him, and he just laughs. “Reg, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t understand,” I mumble. “You’re supposed to hate me. I kissed you, James.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you reacted wrong!”
“How would you prefer I react?”
I huff out a breath, tangling a hand in my hair to stop it from reaching up to trace my lips, the ghost of James’s kiss still there. The tantalising reminder that I could probably do it again, and he’d let me. “I don’t know! Be angry, or horrified, or at least surprised!”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay. Regulus, how could you? I can’t believe you’d do something like this! I’m thoroughly horrified by how you did the one thing I’ve been dreaming about you doing for who knows how long now!” I stare at him, the words taking a long moment to sink in. He just watches me, patient as always.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are.” I nod emphatically. “You have to be.” He rolls his eyes, stepping forward again and cupping the sides of my face, pressing another kiss to my lips. Shit. How is this happening? This must be a dream. A really, really crazy dream.
“Does it seem like I’m lying?” He asks softly after he pulls away a fraction of an inch. My hand has come up to encircle his wrist, and I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. He smiles, and Merlin, it’s awful how beautiful he is. He’s always been beautiful, and I’ve always been vaguely aware of that fact. But only in an objective way. Until the library, until that strange something shifted between us, and the universe decided I was to develop attraction towards James Potter. I still don’t understand what his actions mean. I still don’t know what he meant when he said he’s been wanting this for who knows how long. But I decide not to worry about it right now, or maybe ever.
“No,” I murmur, before fisting the front of his shirt and dragging his mouth back to mine with renewed vigor. He reacts instantly, hands coming down to find my waist as he spins us and pushes me to a pillar, my back pressing against the stone.
“I mean it,” he gasps between kisses. “I’m not sure why, but I really have been wanting this.”
“You’re clearly far more in touch with your emotions than I am,” I reply, trailing my lips down to his jaw instead.
“I try to be.”
***
James
The dreams started sometime in late November. I woke up one morning, heart racing, breath coming in sharp gasps. And the sheets were a complete mess.
I couldn’t remember who it had been in my dream, not that first time. I remembered hands and lips and dark hair. I remembered breathy gasps and obscene sounds. But it wasn’t until a couple nights later, when I woke up in my own mess for a second time, that I could recall the identity of my fantasy.
I’ve always done my best to understand exactly how I feel. To acknowledge things as they come and go, to not lie to myself. But the fact that Regulus Black had graced my subconscious multiple times (with the same vaguely humiliating results), was something I initially struggled to wrap my head around. It wasn’t that he’s a boy. I’ve never cared much about gender, not since I saw Remus come out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel sometime in third year and realised I was blushing furiously. No, Regulus’s gender wasn’t what made me confused about my attraction. It was that he was… well, Regulus. Not someone I was ever supposed to even be friends with, let alone fantasise about. And I did fantasise about him. Not just in my dreams. I couldn’t stop it, the images that would flash through my mind whenever I saw him, whether it be each night at the Astronomy Tower or across the Great Hall during breakfast.
It took a solid few weeks (and a lot of secretive early-morning cleaning of bedding) for me to come to terms with the fact that this thing for Regulus wasn’t going away. And as a rule, I refuse to ever be at war with myself on things like this. So I accepted it. Accepted that yes, okay, maybe it was a betrayal to Sirius, and maybe it was wrong, but despite that, I still very much wanted to kiss Regulus Black, please and thank you.
Now, with Regulus’s lips trailing fire down my neck and my hands gripping his waist tighter than I probably should, I can only think yes, yes, yes. This is right. So, so right. Consequences be damned. What even are the consequences again? I can’t remember. Why the fuck didn’t this happen sooner?
“I can’t believe this,” Regulus murmurs against my skin. “What is happening right now?”
“You are making me go crazy, that’s what.” My hands slide under his shirt and he shivers as my fingers brush over the skin of his stomach. “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper? It’s bloody freezing.” Regulus hums, moving back up to kiss my lips again. Merlin, has anything ever been as bright at the boy in front of me? Has anything ever mattered as much? I don’t think so.
“Part of me was hoping I’d steal yours again.” Regulus’s reply is barely above a whisper. “Part of me hoped you wouldn’t hate me after I came clean.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m half convinced this is all a big joke on your part.” He pulls back, his head hitting the stone behind him with a soft thud. He searches my face, forced to look up from our close proximity. “No, I’m fully convinced. What are you playing at? This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”
All I want is to feel his mouth on mine again. That made sense. It made perfect sense, and now it’s not happening anymore, but it should be. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“A hundred things!” His mind seems to have cleared now, and he pushes at my chest, making me step back and put space between us. “Firstly, what happened to ‘I’m James Potter and I’m going to marry Lily Evans one day’?”
Right. That. I press my lips together, fidgeting with Regulus’s ring on my finger.
“Lily is… I don’t know.” I’ve always adored Lily Evans. I realised that the first day I saw her stand up for her friend when we were eleven, the way she seemed to be on fire when she was angry. It was the thing that made me decide I was always going to be clear with how I felt. The day I decided to wear my heart on my sleeve. Now, I’m not sure how I feel about Lily. I used to think I loved her. But I know now that love and adoration aren’t the same thing.
“Lily hasn’t been the one occupying my mind as of late,” I continue eventually. It’s true. I have yet to figure out how I feel for her, but that much is true at least. Regulus’s lips part ever so slightly, wide eyes like molten silver in the moonlight. It’s only for a brief second before his face resets into an expression of skepticism, arms folding over his chest. I’m itching to close the space between us and kiss him again. Now that I’ve done it once, it feels like an addiction. Like I’m lacking something without his body close to mine.
“Reg, what are you concerned about?” I ask gently. He bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth before glancing away.
“I’m concerned about the consequences, James. Secret friends was one thing. Secret… more? That’s another thing entirely.” He lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Barty, tu avais raison, bon sang. Il va me briser le cœur.” The French rolls off his tongue so smoothly and so gorgeously I have to blink a few times to clear the haze in my mind.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He watches me for a long moment. “Teenage love story,” he mutters under his breath. “So fucking stupid.” Then he sighs and steps forward, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing me again, and I completely forget everything else. I forget the cold biting at my skin, I forget how late it’s getting, I forget to ask what he meant.
There’s just us. Me and this boy who shines even brighter than the star he was named for.