Chapter 9
1977, February 8th - Regulus
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Some were fairly inconsequential, like the time I put too much sugar in a cake Sirius and I were baking with Kreacher when we were children. Others… others had consequences. Like when I watched Sirius endure the Cruciatus curse without stepping in to help, without trying to stop it. Sirius was gone that night, and he didn’t come back. I’m still feeling the effects of that particular mistake.
I’ve made enough of them to be able to recognise when I’m in the process of one. James is most certainly a mistake. A really fucking big one, that has no potential to lead anywhere other than a whole ocean of consequences. But I’m selfish, so I don’t stop myself.
When it all crashes and burns, at least I can say ‘I told you so’. I’ll be saying it to myself, but maybe it’ll be satisfying anyway, who knows?
I push open the door, cold air hitting my skin immediately. It’ll start warming up as spring approaches in about a month, but even so, this is hardly the best place for nightly meetings. I close the door and walk over to the edge of the rooftop, leaning on the railing and breathing in a lungful of fresh air. Sometimes, it feels like I’m suffocating. Being inside doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with it, but being outside can help. The suffocating feeling often comes when things are tense, and there’s tension in our group at the moment. Between Evan and Barty, – which nobody seems to know the real cause of yet – and Dorcas and Barty too, honestly. Of course, Barty is the common denominator. I let out a soft scoff, searching the cloudy sky for stars.
It’s not common for me to get here before James. Usually he’s already waiting. Maybe he isn’t coming tonight, maybe he’s finally figured out that I’m not worth his time and energy. It’s a constant worry in the back of my mind, now that I’ve let him become more than just a vaguely friend-shaped role in my life. He’s no longer someone I can cut off at any moment. I mean, I could, technically. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough.
James bursts through the door a few minutes later.
“Sorry,” he gasps, catching his breath. I glance at him over my shoulder, amusement tugging at my lips. Did he… run here?
“For what?” I ask, turning back to the sky. A star glimmers through a gap in the clouds, and that pulls a real smile to my face. The rare kind that seems far less rare ever since James.
“For being late.” His arms circle my waist as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “But I promise I have a good reason.”
“Mm, do you?” I can’t help the warmth that blooms in my chest as I lean back into him. “I somehow doubt that whatever pathetic excuse you could’ve come up with will be enough to convince me of your innocence.”
“You use a lot of big words, love.”
I feel a traitorous blush creeping to my face at the use of the pet name. James used it for the first time about a week ago, and I hate it. I really do. Totally. One hundred percent. The butterflies in my stomach each time he says it are butterflies of hate.
“Well, anyway. I have a surprise for you. And that’s what was taking me so long.” James’s voice is muffled slightly as he buries his face in my hair. I huff, spinning in his arms to face him.
“I’m not a fan of surprises.”
“You’ll like this one, promise.” I scowl at him. “Alright, half promise.” He grins, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, effectively making my frown vanish. “Come on.”
“James,” I say carefully, my arms folded as I stand beside him in the empty hallway. “Would you please explain to me why we are staring at a blank wall?”
“Shh!” James hisses, his eyes narrowed at the stone in front of us. I open my mouth to retort but am cut off by a soft scraping sound. I look back to the wall and take a step back in surprise as the outline of a door materialises.
“What –” I don’t get to finish before James is grabbing my wrist and tugging me through the door with the excitement of a five year old. I hear the scraping sound behind us again and turn to look back, but the door is still there. Maybe it vanished on the outside? I blink as I take in our surroundings. It’s a large-ish room, with a fireplace in one wall which is already burning steadily. In the far right corner is a sofa surrounded by bookshelves, and on the left side of the room is a huge bay window providing a view of the sky and out over the castle. In the middle of it all is quite possibly the largest bed I’ve ever seen.
“James… what is this…” I trail off as a memory flashes through my mind. A passage in a history book on Hogwarts I read in my first year.
The Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room, is one of the school’s many hidden treasures of ancient magic. It suits the user’s needs, changing and adapting at will…
I let out a surprised laugh. “How did you manage to find the Room of Requirement? People have been wondering where it is for decades!”
James shrugs with a grin. “”Kind of by accident, honestly. But that doesn’t matter. Isn’t this great? Nobody will ever find us in here.”
I fight the smile tugging at my lips, opting instead to walk around the space, running my fingers over the spines of the books and examining the art on the walls. It oddly seems to be muggle art, as the scenes aren’t moving. Finally, I flop down onto the bed, sinking into the mattress with a sigh.
“Yeah. It is great.” I push away the voice in my head that’s whispering how this is all temporary, that it’s dangerous. James lies down beside me, and as I stare up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, I can feel him watching me. Eventually, I turn my head to meet his eyes.
“Stop staring,” I whisper. “It’s creepy.” He just smiles.
“I’m admiring, love. Is that so wrong?”
Again, my heart flutters at the term. I hate the effect it has on me every time, I hate that I’m always fighting a blush. But it also makes a small part of me feel out of place. Makes me feel wrong. That word has been so… absent all my life, not just romantically but in every other way. It’s not one I’m familiar with using or receiving. I huff, sitting up and glaring down at him.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“And I ignored you.”
“It’s uncalled for, James. We aren’t together.” I feel a spike of pain at the expression that flits across his face, but it’s gone quickly, controlled and replaced by an apologetic smile. I’m not sure James even realised he let it show.
“Right. Sorry, I’m not trying to imply we are. I’m just…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not very good at being casual.”
I can practically feel my defensive walls going up. And some part of me knows it’s probably irrational. But it’s an instinct at this point. Roses grow thorns for a reason. “Well if you don’t want casual, nobody’s forcing you to stay,” I snap, my voice cold. James sits up to be level with me, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“No, Reg, that’s not what I meant –”
“This is what I can offer you, James, so if you aren’t happy with that then by all means go find someone else. I’m not here to fall in love with you.” I laugh dryly, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling again. “Merlin, what an insane concept.” I push away the knowledge that it’s not all that insane.
James is silent for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t expect that, Regulus. That’s not what I meant. I just meant I’m not somebody who generally does things halfway. You know that.”
I scoff. “Yeah, me and the whole school. Bet Lily Evans knows that too.” He physically flinches at the words I wield like daggers. I know they’ve hit him hard, making him feel that guilt I know he buries down deep. He shouldn’t feel guilty for loving Lily for so long, and I really shouldn’t be weaponising it against him. I attempt to soften my tone. “My personal favourite was the time you commandeered the microphone and serenaded her in the middle of a Quidditch match.” The frustration is fading from my voice. All I really want right now is to be trapped between James’s arms. It’s the safest place I know.
A smile tugs at his lips, and James laughs softly. “Yeah, she wasn’t happy with me for that one.”
“I wonder why.”
Comfortable silence follows, broken quickly by the sound of stone shifting. I immediately look to the door, panic rising in my chest as I think someone is about to walk in on us. But the sound isn’t coming from there. Slowly, I look up at the ceiling, where the intricate patterns have moved to make space for what appears to be a mosaic, depicting James and I sitting in the exact places we are now. Only it seems to show the scene from a few moments ago, James and I facing each other, my expression cold as I speak. I can practically hear the echo of my words, I’m not here to fall in love with you.
“What the hell?” James breathes softly. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach as I stare up at what I can only guess is the first of many such mosaics, a documentation of the time James and I will spend in this room. The documentation of us.
“Je déteste ça,” I whisper, the French tumbling from my mouth out of instinct. It’s easier to admit things in a language most people around me won’t understand. It’s safer to admit things when James doesn’t know what I’m saying. “Je déteste savoir comment cette histoire va finir. Je déteste finir avec le cœur brisé et pouvoir l'empêcher. Je peux, mais je ne le ferai pas. Parce que j'ai tort, n'est-ce pas? Je suis là pour tomber amoureuse de toi. Et il n'y a pas moyen d'y échapper.”
“What did you just say?” James asks, and I glance at him to find those eyes on me again. Eyes that are blown wide, and my lips twitch into a smirk.
“Is me speaking French a turn on for you?” I ignore his question, forcing my amusement to override the emotions from a few seconds ago. I need to stop letting this get to me. I’ve always been so good at drowning every stray thought and feeling until all that’s left is what I can control. What is it about James that makes me slip up? That makes me lose my grip on what I've been so careful with my entire life?
“Absolutely one hundred percent yes,” James replies bluntly, and I can’t help the laugh it draws out of me. I reach up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Fuck that mosaic and what it means. I don’t want to think about it right now. Maybe not ever. This… whatever it is has always supposed to be something that can exist outside of time, outside of reality. An escape.
***
Evan
Remus isn’t usually late. I shift my stance against the wall, wincing slightly as fabric brushes against the sensitive skin on my upper thigh. Tattoos take a lot longer to heal than I anticipated. Glancing down at the watch on my wrist, I mutter a curse under my breath.
“Come on, Lupin,” I hiss. My foot starts tapping an erratic rhythm on the floor. My skin is itching, my heartbeat strangely fast, and I have the distinct feeling that somebody's watching me. I let out a long, slow breath. I really need a smoke. It’s been at least a few days.
“Oi, Rosier!”
I don’t even realise what I’m doing until I’ve whipped around with my wand pointed directly at Remus Lupin’s throat. He takes a step back, eyes narrowing. My breathing is shaky as I lower my wand, running a hand through my hair.
“Shit, sorry mate,” I mumble, closing my eyes for a moment. “You scared me.”
Remus studies me for a long moment. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Fine. Never better.” Who the hell is watching me? I feel like I could jump out of my skin at any second. Another pause before Remus shakes his head.
“Nah. No way. I don’t sell to addicts.”
The fuck did he just say? I turn to face him properly, fully aware of the glare I’m sending him. “What do you mean by that? I’m not an addict.”
“You mean to tell me you aren’t going through withdrawal right now?” Remus arches an eyebrow, then huffs a dry laugh. “Fuck, Rosier. You promised you’d be careful with them when I first sold to you.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit jumpy. Give me the cigarettes, Lupin. Why do you care anyways?” I mimic his expression, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Remus holds my gaze for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh.
“You’re on thin ice. If I get another reason to think you have a problem, I’m cutting you off. I’m not having your addiction on my conscience.”
I give him a mock pout. “Aw, you saying you care about me?” I need to calm down. My heart and breathing are damn near out of control. I just really need a cigarette. That’ll let me relax. It’s got nothing to do with addiction, just the recent stress of Barty being… Barty. Remus rolls his eyes and hands me a small box. I pass him the money and give him a mock salute before turning on my heel and heading back down the corridor, already lighting one of the joints and bringing it to my lips with a soft sigh.
When I walk into the common room, I find Pandora and Barty lying next to each other on the floor. Pandora is clearly explaining something about the ceiling patterns, and Barty looks surprisingly enamoured as he nods along. He props himself up on his elbows as I come in, giving me a crooked smile. Fuck that stupid smile. Fuck the way it completely disarms me, despite the half hour I just spent with smoke curling from my lips, planning to ignore Barty as much as possible.
“Hello Evan,” Pandora says in that sing-song way of hers without even looking up at me. “Care to join us?”
I hold Barty’s gaze, clearing my throat before replying with a short “No, thanks.” I walk past them and up the stairs to the boys dormitories, pushing the door open to ours and falling back onto my bed with a frustrated groan. The pack of cigarettes lies heavy in my pocket, and I’m halfway through deciding to light my second one of the day when the door opens again and Barty strides in. He sits down so that his face is level with mine, seeing as my head dangles upside-down off the edge of the bed.
“Have I done something to piss you off?” He asks bluntly. I blink a couple times before scoffing, turning over so that the blood is no longer rushing to my head. Now, I can look down at him, which makes me feel a touch better.
“No,” I reply, rather unconvincingly. Apparently Barty thinks so too, because he gives me a skeptical look.
“Kiss me then.”
I stare at him, completely taken aback. “What?”
He shrugs. “Go on. Kiss me. Prove to me that we’re fine and that nothing has changed.”
He doesn’t have to say ‘nothing has changed since what we did’. We both know what he means. I sit up so now I really am looking down at him. “That’s rich when you’re the one who’s changed! What’s with all the new people, Barty? Every morning and every night it’s someone different, someone different attached to your mouth.”
To my confusion, Barty’s lips twitch upward. “Are you jealous?”
Yes. “No, I’m not jealous.” I shake my head, pushing off the bed, my feet already carrying me towards the bathroom. I need to get to the shower, I need the water on the coldest setting possible. And soon. There are voices breaking free in my head, dangerous voices. Barty stands up, following me as I walk backwards.
“You are!” He looks far too delighted about this. I roll my eyes.
“You are such a child. Why would I be jealous?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Go away, Barty,” I say, my voice somehow exhausted and anxious at the same time. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not angry with you, I promise, just… please leave.”
Barty’s expression shifts, flashing between hurt and confusion, which is just ridiculous because what right does he have to be hurt? It’s not like he wants or needs me any more than the next person. He’s made that perfectly clear over the last few days. I don’t bother to wait for him to go before I turn and lock myself in the bathroom, shedding my clothes and stepping into icy water to rebuild crumbling walls.
***
Pandora
It’s funny how when we close our eyes, we don’t really stop seeing anything. We’re just seeing the darkness that comes from our eyelids covering our pupils. Still, seeing darkness is better than seeing anything else right now. It’s the closest to nothing that I can get.
Nothing helps me think. Helps me focus and helps my brain quiet down. I can block out the millions of things rushing through my head if I close my eyes and listen. Right now, there’s the sound of paper rustling, the soft whispers of students around the library, the quiet crackle of the fireplace somewhere among the stacks. I’m lying on an empty shelf, putting a slightly dangerous amount of trust in the strength of the thin panel of wood that holds me above the four shelves below me.
I run my finger absently over the edge of the shelf, finding the carving. I’ve worked out that it’s some sort of shape and not letters after a solid hour of trying to decipher it by only touch. I’m not really sure why I’m doing it. It keeps the quiet around, I guess.
“Uh… I don’t think you’re supposed to lie on the shelves.”
It takes a moment for me to sort through the voices of everyone I know, then match the face, and finally the name. My eyes fly open to see Lily Evans watching me with a bemused expression.
“I don’t really care,” I reply. Now I realise that’s probably something normal people consider ‘rude’. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just… honesty. It’s true that I don’t care in the slightest what the rules are. I’m about to attempt to fix it with an apology when I notice Lily smiling.
“Yeah, fair enough. I can’t join you though, there isn’t enough space.”
I’m silent for a second, sorting through the statement to find the hidden meaning. What is she asking? It clicks, and I slide off the shelf, regaining my footing and blinking rapidly to dispel the dizziness that comes from not standing up for a long time. I glance back and find the small carving on the shelf – a tiny butterfly. No wonder I couldn’t figure it out. Lily’s colour is bright today, a mix of gold and red and orange that shouldn’t exist but does somehow. Again, I’m reminded of fire every time I look at her.
“Do you need something?” I ask after the silence stretches on a bit too long for comfort. She seems to almost jump in surprise, fidgeting with the ends of a lock of hair.
“Oh. Um. Not exactly. Kind of? I just wanted to make sure you were okay after… the last time.” She closes her eyes briefly and swears under her breath. “Sorry. No, actually, not sorry. I’m being nice. So. I shouldn’t apologise. So. Yeah.” Lily attempts to hide the blush creeping to her face by becoming intensely fascinated with the books to her left.
I smile to myself, leaning against the shelves as I watch her pretend to examine the spines of the books. “I am okay. Thanks. It happens sometimes, but today isn’t a dull day.” She nods like she understands, but that’s impossible, because she can’t understand. Nobody can. I know that. And yet it somehow still feels like she does, at least a little bit, when she meets my eyes again. She blows out a long breath and nods, her lips tugging up into a half smile.
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
I hum in reply, and am about to say more when a girl with dark skin and hair comes around the corner, tapping Lily’s shoulder.
“Lils, there you are, I’ve been looking for you for…” she trails off as her gaze lands on me, eyes narrowing. I know her, kind of. Mary something. She doesn’t like Barty, or Evan, or Regulus. Or Dorcas. So she probably doesn’t like me by association. If her expression is anything to go by, I’d say I’m correct in that assumption.
“Oh, Mary, hi,” Lily replies, her attention redirected to the girl. It feels like a loss of some sort of warmth that I hadn’t realised I’d felt. Like the warmth you’d get from the embers of a fire, and now suddenly, without her eyes on me, I'm cold again. They’re talking about something, but I tune them out, slipping away while Lily is distracted. They don’t want me there, or at least, Mary doesn’t.
I leave the library, wandering through the halls for a while. I don’t want to go back to my common room, and there’s some odd mix of snow and rain falling outside that I’d rather not go out in. At some point I stop and lean against a wall, running my fingertips over the rough stone. I have a feeling I’ve been walking in circles, but I honestly don’t care at this point. I feel weird, like everything is too much and too loud and my skin feels strange. Whenever I close my eyes, memories of my previous conversation flash through my mind. I know what a crush is, of course. I think it’s what I felt for Xen. I hope it’s what I felt for Xen. If it wasn’t, I’d feel rather guilty for dating him. But knowing what a crush is doesn’t necessarily mean I want to acknowledge when I have one. Denial, ignoring feelings until they go away – those are both things I’ve picked up from my friends. Probably not particularly good habits, but I can’t bring myself to care. Right now, I’d rather just feel nothing. Nothing is easy. It’s calm and I don’t have to think so much.
The stone shifts under my fingertips, and I glance down to see a pattern forming. I turn around and step back as a door appears in front of me. I cock my head at it, chewing the inside of my cheek in silent debate. It’s not like it’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me, or will ever happen to me from what I know of the future.
When I open the door, I’m met with… nothing. The type of nothing that isn’t just the inside of your eyelids, or the ‘silence’ of a quiet room. True, complete nothing – what I’d been wishing for just a moment ago. It isn’t black, or white for that matter, because it doesn’t have a colour. It’s just… blank. I take a step in, hearing only my soft breaths in otherwise complete silence. True silence. I close my eyes and feel a smile tugging at my lips.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the room as I slide down to sit cross-legged on the colourless floor. “Thank you.”
***
Barty
I stare at the closed door to the bathroom. I can hear the water running as Evan turns the shower on, and I swear softly to myself as I spin on my heel and storm right out the door. He’s being ridiculous. Irrational, really. I mean, what an overreaction to lock himself in the bathroom. Is he really that angry? No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s jealous or not. Why would I? Sure, maybe it felt good to know that he was watching me whenever I was messing around with someone in the past few days. Maybe it felt good to catch him glaring at me, and knowing it was because he hated seeing me with so many others. But that wasn’t why I’d done it. I was just… having fun. Trying to get the feeling of Evan’s hands off my skin, maybe. Trying to prove to myself that there was nothing special about his skin on mine, that it was the same as with anyone else. Trying to prove that what we did a few days ago was meaningless.
I was proven wrong, but that isn’t the point.
My feet are carrying me through the hallways, the subconscious part of my brain having apparently already made a decision I’m not yet aware of. I find myself outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, trying to figure out what exactly I’m doing here.
I know Evan gets his cigarettes from Remus Lupin. He told me a while ago when I asked. I chew on my lower lip for a moment, debating with myself. I’ve only smoked once in my life, when I was twelve and Evan had one for the first time. I hated the way it felt then, the way I couldn’t think properly. I already have so little control over myself most of the time. With the nicotine making my mind hazy, I had no control at all. So I’ve never done it since. But right now, when everything is too complicated and my thoughts are too loud, it seems appealing in a way it hasn’t before. At least then I can blame it all on the smoke and not on my own confusion.
“You aren’t a Gryffindor,” The Fat Lady says in her nasal voice as she glares down at me from the portrait. I huff, rolling my eyes.
“No chance you’ll let me in, then?”
“Absolutely not. I have a job to do, you know, and I take it very seriously.”
“Fine. Can you at least tell someone to come out here, then?” I fold my arms, tapping my foot in an erratic rhythm. I hate myself for doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a really fucking bad idea. Merlin, I’m always telling Evan he should quit, and look at me now. Besides, Remus Lupin is unlikely to sell me anything.
The Fat Lady sighs dramatically, but gives a terse nod. I tell her to get Lupin and she vanishes from her frame. A minute later, the portrait swings open and the older boy steps out. When he sees me, he scoffs and shakes his head, already turning to go back.
“Wait – fuck –” I reach out and grab the edge of the painting, stopping it from closing. Lupin looks at me over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. Eventually, he turns to face me, leaning against the wall as I let go of the portrait with a relieved exhale.
“What do you want, Crouch?”
“Remus! I think it’s a tragedy that we’ve never spoken, really. Who knows, maybe we could be great friends,” I say with a grin, clenching my fist to stop myself from fidgeting. He rolls his eyes.
“You and Rosier are so similar it’s sickening. The next words out of your mouth better be an explanation for why you’re here, or I’m going back inside.” Rude, but fine. Socialising with one of Sirius Black’s best friends probably isn’t productive anyway.
“I was hoping to buy some from you,” I say. I don’t need to specify what I’m buying. It’s not like Remus has much variety when it comes to products. He looks me up and down, seeming skeptical. “For Evan,” I find myself blurting out. Liar. Remus appears to believe that, though, scoffing and shaking his head.
“Fuck, he needs to get ahold of himself. You tell Rosier that this is the last time for at least three months. I refuse to fuel his addiction. I don’t care that he pays well.” A cold feeling creeps up my spine at his words. The interaction continues without me being fully present, handing over money and taking the pack from him. He flips me off as I walk away, I must’ve said something snarky. But I don’t know what it was. I’m on autopilot, Remus’s statement playing in my mind, shortening until one word is blaring loudly in my ears, like a warning alarm.
Addiction.