The Prettiest Star

“Do you believe in God?” was James’ first question of the day. He had tracked Regulus down again, keeping good on his promise to ask another three questions. 

“Do I believe in God?” he parroted back incredulously. He was in the midst of walking back to his dorm, and this time James was coming with him. 

“Well, do you?” 

Regulus paused, and thought it over.  It was quite the question. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all, but, once again, he had no clue what to expect when it came to James Potter. 

“Maybe,” he answered eventually, “I don’t believe in a benevolent God, if that’s what you mean. There’s too much misery in the world for that.”

“But there’s beauty too, wouldn’t you agree?” added James, ever the optimist. Regulus considered this. 

“I suppose,” he agreed. He paused again. “But it’s not all beautiful,” he reasoned, “Why would a truly benevolent God create a world with so much suffering in it?” 

“Maybe we need to suffer to see the beauty,” James suggested lightly. 

How had Regulus gotten himself into this conversation? It was ridiculous, really. He was having a genuine discussion about a higher power with none other than James Potter. It felt surreal. 

Even more ridiculous, was the fact that he wanted to continue. 

“I’d rather there just be beauty,” he replied eventually. 

“Hmm, I guess,” was James’ answer. 

“What about you,” he wondered, “Do you believe in God?”

James laughed, then. Regulus wasn’t really sure why. He did it so easily, too, as if it wasn’t something that had to be teased out of him or earnt, it was only waiting to bubble up from his chest, full of warmth and mirth. Regulus looked away from him. 

“I don’t know, to be honest,” James told him, his laugh now a smile. “But I think… there are greater forces at play.” 

“You sound like Evan.” 

James laughed again. 

“Do I?” he grinned, “I just think, that… We’re all…” He paused, looking at the ceiling, as if collecting his thoughts (of which Regulus was sure there couldn’t be many). James looked back down, and over at him. “Every decision we make shapes the future in small but significant ways,” he explained, “I mean, think about it, if Sirius hadn’t run away maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Regulus did not enjoy this insinuation at all. He once again turned away from James, looking fiercely down the empty corridor. They were taking the long way, but now Regulus was beginning to wish they hadn’t. Oblivious, James continued on. 

“If my parents hadn’t decided to go to Madam Malkins at the exact same time all those years ago they never would have met, and then I wouldn’t exist. There’s something spiritual about that, I think. How we’re all so connected, without even realising, without even thinking about it. In another world, in another universe, maybe you’re in Ravenclaw, maybe I’m best friends with Xenophilius Lovegood or something. Who knows?”

“Mm, who knows?” said Regulus flatly. James seemed to falter then, and Regulus walked faster so that the other boy struggled to keep up. 

“Can I ask my second question?” asked James. 

“Haven’t you already asked three?”

“No! That was all one question; ‘do you believe in God’.”

“Fine then,” huffed Regulus, willing it to be over. 

“What’s your favourite food?”

This conversation was giving him whiplash. 

“I don’t know, I don’t have one.” 

“That just can’t be true,” encouraged James, “Everyone has a favourite food.” 

“Well, not me,” said Regulus stubbornly. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok, last question then; What do you know about muggle culture?”

“Probably more than you,” quipped Regulus, and for a brief moment, James was speechless. It didn’t last very long, though. Regulus supposed you could never have too much of a good thing. 

“I’d be very surprised,” he scoffed. 

“Yes,” agreed Regulus, “You would.” 

“How would you know about muggle culture?” he asked disbelievingly, “How would you know more than me? I mean, come on, do you even know who Bowie is?”

“If you think that I could’ve lived with Sirius for 16 years and not heard of David Bowie, Queen, ABBA or T.Rex  you are sorely mistaken.”

“Ok, that’s fair, but you don’t really think that–

“How do I know more than you?” interrupted Regulus, “Well, it’s because I do this thing called reading where I open books and look at the words. Have you ever read a muggle book, Potter?”

“Um… do comics count?” Regulus gave James a withering look. “Ok, ok, fine, I’ve never read a muggle book.” 

“I’d be surprised if you’d read anything other than ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’ if I’m honest,” snarked Regulus. 

“Hey!” exclaimed James, “Quidditch Through the Ages is good!”

And despite his previous annoyance, and despite that this was Sirius’ best friend he was talking to, Regulus couldn’t help but smile. And then James was smiling too, right at him, a blinding flash of teeth, and he had to quickly look away, though for quite different reasons to earlier. 

By now they were almost at the dungeons, and in the end, Regulus was glad to have taken the long way. 

“Can I ask you another three questions tomorrow?” offered James. 

“I’ll allow it,” teased Regulus, and they parted ways. This time, when they said goodbye, Regulus didn’t keep his back turned. He faced James Potter instead. 

***

The next few days repeated in this fashion. James would find him, somehow (he always managed to, wherever Regulus was) and then ask him his three questions. 

On Wednesday the first one was ‘are you more introverted or extroverted?’ To which Regulus replied ‘Take a wild guess, Potter’ (very introverted, was the answer). 

On Thursday James asked Regulus to ‘say something for me in French’. It was the ‘for me’ that had thrown Regulus off. He was sure that his heart had actually stuttered in his chest, like a faulty machine. 

“J’aime tes yeux,” he’d replied. 

“What did you say?” asked James excitedly. 

“I called you stupid,” Regulus had snapped, and James had exclaimed ‘Hey!’

On Friday he’d finally gone back to the topic Regulus was trying to avoid. 

“Why won’t you make up with Sirius?” James had asked, in that earnest way of his, as if he really couldn’t see any reason why Regulus shouldn’t make up with his brother. 

“Watch it, or I’ll cut your question allowance down to two.”

“Just humour me, please?”

“I’m not making up with him Potter. It’s not going to happen.”

“But it would make me so happy!” protested James. Regulus had gaped at him. 

“It’s not about you!”

“It would make Sirius so happy!” Regulus had given him a death glare, for that one. “It would make you…” James started to say. Regulus raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow, and he saw James gulp. “It would be good for you two,” he’d meekly said instead. 

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“I guess I don’t… have a brother,” James had agreed. No, you don’t, Regulus had thought to himself. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” admitted James after a second. Regulus had folded his arms then, fully intending to storm off, but James had said “Will you tell me your favourite book?” and without even meaning to, he’d end up caught in a conversation all about The Picture of Dorian Gray. 

Over the course of the week, Regulus found himself looking forward to James’ silly questions, and even smiling, and giggling, and sometimes, it was him who would try to seek James out, though he’d never have admitted it, had James asked. 

“Why don’t you ever ask me any questions?” James had inquired one day. His eyes were piercing in their stare, the brown of his irises almost swallowed up by his wide, black pupils. Like the eyes of a rabbit, or a deer, Regulus had sometimes thought to himself. It was hard to look into them and not be swallowed up whole, so, like many times before, Regulus looked elsewhere. 

“I don’t need to,” he replied eventually, “You wear your heart on your sleeve, Potter. Everyone already knows all there is to know.” 

“That’s not true!” gasped James, “I can be… mysterious! I bet there’s loads of things you don’t know about me.” 

“I’d be surprised…”

“There must be something,” James groaned. 

“Ok, ok,” conceded Regulus, “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Yes?” James answered hopefully, those doe eyes lighting up. 

“If you’re such a saint–

“I never said I was a saint!” interrupted James. Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“Ok, if you’re such a ‘nice person’,” he amended, “Then why do you pick on Snape?” 

James blinked in surprise. Regulus relished in being the one to catch him off guard with a question, for once. 

“Well…” he said after a while, sounding uncertain, “Somebody has to.”

Regulus couldn’t help it, he burst into a bout of shocked laughter. It wasn’t that he’d found it funny, he was just… shocked. 

“What?” he managed to gasp. 

“You’re not friends with him, are you?” asked James worriedly. 

“No, absolutely not,” scorned Regulus, insulted by the notion, “He’s a prat, and sometimes he definitely deserves it, but I was just wondering how you justified it to yourself. Seeing as you’re ‘the good guy’.” 

“You think I’m ‘the good guy’?” grinned James and Regulus frowned at him. 

“No, I think that’s what you think of yourself.”

“I s’pose it is…” admitted James, “Listen, I know how it looks, me picking on Snape. It’s certainly not doing me any favours with Lily Evans, that’s for sure.” Regulus soured at the mention of the know-it-all redhead. “It’s just… Well, me and Snivellus- Snape- whatever, we just don’t get on well. We never will. It’s like… oil and water or something.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s much of a justification. You could just avoid him.”

“But I can’t,” explained James, “He picks on us too, and he’s just awful to Remus, and… And to Sirius.” 

“What do you mean?” snapped Regulus harshly, getting defensive, “What does Snape do to Sirius?” 

“You know how he is…”

“Well, I bet Sirius is asking for it, from Snape. He never knows when to keep his mouth shut.” He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to say it, or even if he really believed it, but there it was. 

James looked aghast. 

“That’s just… That’s just not true!” he exclaimed, “Sure, Sirius can say the wrong thing sometimes, but it was Snape who started it all! He was a twat from the beginning, and he takes all sorts of opportunities to wind Sirius up and be horrid to him. It’s not Sirius’ fault!”

“Nothing is ever his fault, is it?” Regulus cut back bitterly. James looked as though he was desperately struggling for the right words to defend his friend. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if about to speak, but changing his mind. 

“This isn’t his fault,” he said finally, “Trust me.”

“Whose is it then?” 

“Snape’s of course! You can’t seriously be taking his side on this?”

“I’m not,” replied Regulus, “But are you really that much better than him if you go out of your way to bully him? Sure, a few revenge pranks are justifiable, but attacking him on sight? It doesn’t matter ‘who started it’, that was six years ago, now! I mean, what are you, ten?” 

James looked more than a little hurt, but Regulus couldn’t find it in him to muster any sympathy. 

“That was one time,” he mumbled after a few seconds had gone by, “When we attacked him on sight last year, that was one time, and it was the worst it ever got. You know that, Reg.”

“So you admit that you were wrong?” 

James looked conflicted for a moment, but then he nodded. 

“Yes, I admit that was wrong.” 

“So you’re still ‘the good guy’ then?”

Another pause. 

“I’d like to think so, yes.” He waited a beat before asking, “Do you think so?” 

How could Regulus say no? Because James was right, it had been just that one time, and he clearly regretted it, he knew he’d gone too far. And he sounded so vulnerable like that, as if he really valued Regulus’ opinion. As if it really meant something to him to know that Regulus thought he was a good person. 

“I think so,” he said in a small voice. And while he didn’t often think of the world as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ people, he knew that James was one of the good ones.