End of Beginnings
January 6th
Sirius
Sirius shifted on the couch where he lay sprawled out, music blasting through his headphones at a deafening level. With his eyes closed he could feel the soft leather of the furniture beneath him, the heat of the fireplace a comfort. The house was unusually quiet, a feeling that Sirius didn’t like- hence, the music. The quiet reminded him too much of the Black manor, something unsettling that he didn’t think he’d ever get used to.
James was off with Regulus doing god knew what, and had been for the past two days. It was hard not to feel bothered by the fact that he now had to share his best friend with his brother, but he was trying, for both of their sake. Remus still wasn’t speaking to him, though Sirius didn’t know if that was because it was too painful for Remus or because he didn’t want to. As for Lily and Peter, both had gone back to university early in order to get settled in before the term started. Which left Sirius alone, on the couch, pretending that the past few days hadn’t happened.
A smack on the bottom of his boots had his eyes flying open, a startled breath shooting out of him as he sat up abruptly and yanked his headphones off. Remus stared at him in surprise, brows arched as if he hadn’t quite been expecting that reaction. Awkwardly, the other boy shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Boots on the couch? Really?” Remus said, tone filled with a forced lightness. “Euphemia would be aghast.”
For a second, Sirius didn’t register what Remus had said. He was too busy staring at him, as if Remus was something he’d conjured in his mind. Then the fact that Remus was joking, actually joking, seemed to click.
Okay. So maybe things can go back to normal.
“You definitely just made that word up,” Sirius said in response, moving his feet off the couch so Remus could sit beside him. “Aghast? What even is that?”
Remus gaped at him. “You’re kidding. Aghast? I did not make that up.”
“I think you make up words all the time and think you’ll get away with it.”
“I do not.” Remus said hotly. “It’s not my fault you don’t read.”
“Why would I read? Terribly boring.”
“You-” Remus huffed, shaking his head. “That’s not going to work, Sirius.”
“What’s not going to work?”
“I came in here to talk,” Remus said pointedly. “And not about your reading habits. You had to know that.”
Actually, I was hoping we’d just avoid this until it went away.
“Oh,” was all Sirius said.
Remus blinked at him. “You didn’t know that.”
“I just thought…” Sirius said weakly, and Remus shook his head.
“You just thought eventually I’d, what, get over it?”
“I didn’t-” Sirius scrubbed his face with his hands. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me, is all.”
“I didn’t,” Remus said in a clipped tone, and Sirius winced. “But I didn’t want to leave it like that, either.”
Sirius felt the familiar twinge of guilt go through him. “Me either,” he said after a moment. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Remus said sharply. “You just told me how you feel. Or don’t feel.”
“For… for hurting you.” The words were strangled, almost a plea.
“You still are, though.” Remus’ voice was frustrated. “Don’t you get that?”
“I do.” Sirius made a soft, pained noise. “But I can’t- I just-”
“You’re scared,” Remus finished, ignoring the way it made Sirius flinch. “And you’re not sorry you’re scared, you just are.”
It would always surprise Sirius, just how well Remus knew him. Like the back of his hand.
“Yes,” Sirius admitted after a pause.
Remus gave a bitter laugh, looking like he wanted to stand up and walk away. “At least you’re honest.”
“Remus, it’s not that I don’t-”
“Don’t.” Remus said sharply, and his brown eyes, usually soft with warmth, were unusually cold and guarded. “Don’t say it if you’re not going to do anything about it.”
Against his will, the words died on Sirius’ tongue. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Sirius could practically feel Remus shutting himself off piece by piece.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Sirius whispered.
“Do what?” Remus asked, his voice softer now but no less pointed. “Care about someone? Trust someone? You already do that, Sirius. You’ve been doing it for years. So what’s so different about this?”
Sirius opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked away, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to find an answer that didn’t sound like an excuse.
Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, his voice weary. “But I can’t keep doing this, Sirius. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth the risk.”
“You are,” Sirius said immediately, his voice raw and fragile.
“Then prove it.”
Sirius felt his chest tighten. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications.
“I don’t know if I can,” Sirius admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Remus’s shoulders sagged, and he let out another quiet, bitter laugh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them almost unbearable. Sirius stared at the fire, his mind racing, while Remus stared at him, his expression a mixture of frustration and sadness.
“I don’t hate you, Sirius,” Remus said softly, breaking the silence. “I could never hate you. But I can’t keep doing this, either.”
Sirius’s breath caught, and he turned to look at Remus, his throat burning. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said hoarsely.
Remus offered a sad smile. “You already have, Sirius. At least, the part of me that hoped you’d choose me. The part of me that hoped you’d try.”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered, his voice cracking.
Remus nodded, his expression unreadable. “Me too.”
Without another word, Remus stood, his movements slow and deliberate. Sirius watched him go, his heart sinking as the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house.
January 8th
Regulus
“We haven’t talked about it.”
Regulus stiffened where he lay on the bed. His room was dark, the only light available coming from the open window showing the gloomy sky outside. James lay next to him, close enough that they could touch but not quite doing it. Regulus knew that was mostly his fault- he wasn’t comfortable enough yet to bridge that gap, to believe that he could just lay with James and that James wouldn’t just… disappear. Like a dream.
“Talked about what?” Regulus said nonchalantly, propping himself up so he could see James’ face better. James just gave him an unimpressed look.
“You know what.”
When Regulus didn’t respond, James let out a sigh.
“Break’s almost over, Reg.”
Regulus didn’t allow himself to wince, but he could feel his jaw tighten as he looked away.
“It is.” The words were a struggle to get out, but the tone was neutral, as if he didn’t care.
“And we haven’t really talked about what that means,” James continued, either not noticing how stiff Regulus was or not taking it as a warning.
Regulus exhaled slowly, trying to still the beating of his heart and the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. You knew this was coming.
“What do you want me to say, James?” He said eventually, looking up and meeting his gaze. “We’ll write letters to each other like some scene out of The Notebook?”
Despite Regulus’ tone, James gave a faint smile. “Why not? I could be poetic if I tried.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, though he could feel a smile threatening the corner of his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“We can make this work.” James tilted his head just slightly. “Distance doesn’t have to mean this ends.”
“You make it sound so simple.” Regulus shook his head. “It’s not.”
“It could be,” James pressed. “If we both want it to be.”
Regulus studied the earnest expression that James wore. “Do you really think that’s enough? Wanting it to work?”
“Yes,” James said without hesitation, and something in Regulus warmed at that. “I do.”
“You’re optimistic to fault, you know that?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” James grinned, and in response Regulus felt his mouth twist into a small smile.
“It’s not,” he admitted. “It’s just… not what I’m used to, I guess.”
James reached over, thumb brushing against Regulus’ jaw. “I know it won’t be easy. But I don’t want to lose this. This is better than not even trying.”
Regulus felt his breath hitch in his chest, and for a moment, the urge to agree with James was so strong that he almost gave in. But he shook his head, pushing James’ hand away gently.
“You’re not going to lose me,” Regulus said quietly. “But what happens when you’re busy with classes and football and your friends? What happens when weeks go by without us seeing each other? I’ve seen how these things end, James. They don’t end well.”
“They don’t have to end at all,” James countered, his tone firm. “I’ll make time, Reg. We’ll make time. I’m not going to let distance be the thing that breaks us.”
Regulus let out a breath, running his fingers through his curls. “You’re not going to let it?”
“Nope,” James leaned forward, gaze cautious as he did so- waiting for Regulus to tell him no. When Regulus didn’t, James pressed a light kiss to his mouth. Regulus allowed himself to melt into it, not stopping the noise of contentment that escaped from him.
“Okay,” Regulus said when he pulled away, resting his head on his hands. “If you really think…”
“I do.” James smiled gently, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “We can do this.”
“Okay,” Regulus whispered, voice gentler this time, but more accepting. “We’ll try.”
Same Day
Sirius
Sirius stirred the drink in his hands lazily with his spoon, chin propped on his hand as he watched the brown liquid spin in the cup. Tea. Leaf water, he’d called it once, purely just to see the look on James’ face. James had always preferred tea, but Sirius had never not loved coffee. It was stronger, and his guilty pleasure was putting all of the sweet, surgery stuff in it that Peter always made fun of.
“Can we talk?” Remus’ voice floated into the kitchen, and when Sirius’ head snapped up, the other boy was leaning against the doorframe. Nervously, Sirius nodded, leaning back in his chair.
“Sure. Sit?”
“Yeah.” Remus pulled out the chair, sitting down across from Sirius. “Look, Pads, I’ve been thinking.”
Sirius’ jaw tightened with trepidation. “About?”
“Everything?” Remus sighed, like he’d expected Sirius’ guardedness. “About… us, specifically. I’m sorry I was harsh the other day. It was… unfair.”
“Unfair?” Sirius stared at him in surprise.
“Maybe not entirely,” Remus redacted, chewing on his bottom lip. “But at least partially, yes. I haven’t been fair in a lot of this. I… I threw that on you. I kissed you with no warning.” Sirius winced at the word, but Remus continued, seemingly unbothered. “And I’m sorry I did. It was immature, and I should’ve known we should talk about it first-”
“No, stop. Stop.” Sirius sat forward, hands waving through the air as if to disperse those thoughts. “Remus, this isn’t your fault, honestly. It’s mine.” Sirius allowed his head to drop into his hands, fingers catching in tangled hair. “I should have expected it, honestly, I’m just not…” The words felt thick on his tongue, impossible to get out.
“I shouldn’t have sprang this on you-”
“Moony,” Sirius groaned. “This is hard for me to say. Just give me a second, okay?”
There was a pause, and then rather than an answer he heard Remus settle further into his chair.
Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “I just- I’ve been running from this. From us. And I’ve been running because I’m…” Sirius swallowed thickly, forcing the word out. “I’m scared. I still am, if I’m being honest. I don’t want to fuck it up. But… I think, maybe, it’s time to… try.”
Remus watched him carefully, his expression cautious. “What changed?”
Sirius let out a shaky breath, his gaze on the table beneath him. “You walking away. It scared me more than anything else ever has. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, but the thought of losing you? That was different. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you.”
Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, what are you saying, Sirius? That you’re ready now? That you’ve magically figured everything out in a couple of days?”
Sirius shook his head. “No. I haven’t figured anything out, except that I don’t want this to stop.”
Remus studied him, his gaze searching Sirius’s face for sincerity. “This isn’t something you can half-commit to, Sirius. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to change your mind.”
“I know,” Sirius said quietly, his voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through him. “And I’m not asking you to wait. I’m asking you to let me try.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Remus sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest as he considered Sirius’s plea.
“You’re really serious about this?” he asked finally, his voice soft.
Sirius met his gaze, his grey eyes steady. “I am.”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Remus’s lips, and he leaned forward again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
For the first time in days, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by something fragile but good. Sirius felt the weight on his chest lift slightly, and he couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face.
“So,” he said, his tone lighter now. “What do we do next?”
Remus chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I guess we figure it out as we go.”
Sirius nodded, his smile widening just slightly. “I can live with that.”
January 12th
Regulus
The platform was bustling with activity, the cold January air filled with the sounds of hissing steam and the chatter of travelers. Families hugged their loved ones goodbye as luggage was loaded onto the train. James stood near the edge of the platform, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a nervous energy.
Regulus stood in front of him, arms crossed against the chill, his expression carefully composed. The crowd moved around them, but it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
James cleared his throat, running a hand through his messy hair. “I, uh, don’t really know how to say goodbye properly,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.
Regulus arched a brow, his lips twitching upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re not usually at a loss for words, Potter. This is new.”
James chuckled, though the sound was strained. “Yeah, well, I guess you’ve got that effect on me.”
Regulus looked down briefly, the hint of vulnerability in James’s tone making something twist in his chest. “It’s only a few months,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring James or himself.
“Feels longer,” James said. His voice dropped to something quieter, more earnest. “I meant what I said, you know. I’ll write. We’ll make this work.”
Regulus hesitated, his hands tightening on his arms. “I know you will,” he said finally. “But it’s still…”
“Scary?” James supplied.
Regulus nodded, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. “Yeah. Scary.”
James took a small step closer, his gaze steady. “It doesn’t have to be, though. We’ve got this, Reg. I’ve got you.”
For a moment, Regulus let himself believe it. He reached up, his gloved fingers brushing against James’s for the briefest second before pulling away. “Don’t make me regret this, James.”
James grinned, his confidence flickering back to life. “Never.”
The train’s whistle blew, a sharp reminder that time was running out.
“I should go,” James said reluctantly. He looked at Regulus for a moment longer, as though memorizing every detail of his face. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
“You too,” Regulus said quietly. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the emotion he was holding back.
“Bye, Reg,” James said softly, giving a small smile. Then, as if knowing Regulus wouldn’t want the attention of a dramatic kiss, James simply took a step back and nodded before turning and making his way to the train.
“You okay?” Sirius’ voice broke through Regulus’ thoughts, and he turned, pushing down the ache in his chest.
Regulus turned to face him, his expression guarded but not unkind. “I will be.”
Sirius hesitated, then reached out to place a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re not at each other’s throats anymore.”
Regulus’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “Me too.”
There was a pause before Sirius added, “And... if this thing with James doesn’t work out, don’t let it ruin you. You deserve to figure things out for yourself, Reg.”
Regulus blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Sirius’s tone. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
Sirius gave a small nod, stepping back so Remus could step forward.
“Hey,” Remus said, a slight smile on his face.
“Hey,” Regulus replied, his voice softer. “Thank you for helping out this break. I… I don’t know that any of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”
Remus nodded quietly. “Of course. And thank you for- well, for trying with Sirius, I guess.”
“Yeah, well.” Regulus blew out a breath, knowing full well Sirius could hear him as he said, “He’s a little less unbearable than I remember.”
“Hey!” Sirius said indignantly. “I’d like to say my unbearable-ness has increased plenty, thank you.”
Regulus snorted, shaking his head. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Sirius grinned. “I know you’re gonna miss it.”
“Hardly,” Regulus retorted, but the words were empty of malice. “You should write too, okay, Sirius? If, you know, you feel like it, I guess. I’ll get around to answering it eventually.”
A certain vulnerability lay beneath the words, something that suggested Regulus cared a lot more than he wanted to admit. Something that said, I’d answer every letter, this time. Every call.
“Yeah, Reggie.” Sirius nodded. “‘Course I will.”
Regulus nodded, throat tightening as Remus said, “Well, we should probably be off.”
“Right.” Regulus glanced over at where James had disappeared, boarding the train.
“You should come to the Potter’s. For the next break,” Sirius murmured, nudging Regulus gently. “Just think about it, yeah?”
“I’ll think about it,” Regulus agreed, and it didn’t feel like a lie.
“Bye, Reggie,” Sirius smiled, and then before Regulus could complain, his older brother was pulling him into a tight hug.
“Bye, Sirius,” Regulus whispered back, and he tried not to feel like the words were too familiar for comfort.
When they pulled away, Remus nodded, shifting the duffel bag that rested on his shoulder. “See you, Regulus.”
Sirius gave his shoulder one last firm squeeze before stepping back, his hand falling to his side. Then, with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he turned, motioning to Remus. They began walking toward the train, Sirius glancing back just once to wave.
Regulus raised a hand in return, the gesture stiff and automatic. As he stood there, watching the two of them disappear into the growing crowd, he couldn’t shake the familiar ache blooming in his chest.
This wasn’t new, the feeling of being left behind. It had been with him for years, haunting him in the silence of the Black manor after Sirius had run away, in the yawning chasm between himself and the rest of the world. And now, as he watched his brother and James board the train, the ache swelled again, a reminder of how easily people seemed to slip through his fingers.
For a moment, he let himself imagine what it might be like to follow them. To leave the shadowed halls of the manor behind for good and step into the light of their world- a world where laughter echoed, and choices were made freely, without the weight of expectation crushing down.
But reality reasserted itself quickly, as it always did. Regulus was no Sirius. He wasn’t built for escape, for rebellion. He was the one who stayed behind, who endured, who carved out a fragile existence amidst the ruins of his family’s legacy.
Still, as the train’s whistle pierced the air, Regulus found himself hoping, quietly, desperately, that this time, things might be different. That maybe, just maybe, Sirius’s words hadn’t been empty, and the small threads of connection they’d begun to mend wouldn’t unravel the moment the train pulled away.
As Sirius and Remus reached the train’s steps, Sirius turned one last time, his gaze catching Regulus’s. For a fleeting second, something unspoken passed between them- a promise, perhaps, or an understanding too fragile to name. Regulus didn’t let himself wave again, although the urge nearly overcame him. He just stood there, his breath visible in the icy air, and watched as Sirius disappeared into the train.
The train began to move, its wheels clanking against the tracks, and Regulus stood rooted to the spot, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to look away, to retreat into the cold safety of indifference, but he couldn’t.
As the train started picked up speed, James leaned out of the window, waving, his face alight with something that looked like hope. Regulus’s chest tightened, and despite himself, he lifted a hand in return.