The Black Snake

“Holy shit..” 

Regulus flinches, instinctively pressing himself as close as he can against the cold door of the car as James leans over him, his arm brushing just slightly against Regulus’s leg. It’s a brief touch, but enough to make his pulse quicken. James is peering out the window, oblivious to the sudden stirring in Regulus’s mind. A calm voice, low and curious, but steady, slips from him as if they weren’t too close, as if nothing about the proximity should feel out of place. But Regulus feels everything.

The space between them is suffocating, but not in the way it should be. Instead of the usual discomfort he associates with anyone getting this close, there’s an unexpected warmth coming off James in waves. He’s so close that Regulus can smell him.

He tries—and fails—to ignore the subtle scent coming off him. He smells nice. Of course, Regulus thinks bitterly. Of course, he smells nice. He really shouldn’t. And part of him doesn’t. But Regulus can still smell the lingering cologne, or shampoo, or whatever the hell it is James uses to smell so goddamn nice all the time.

A fleeting whiff of cedar wood mingling with a sharp, fresh citrus scent he can’t quite identify. Regulus hates it. God, he really fucking hates it. Hates that he even notices—the combination oddly comforting despite how much it irritated him—but how could he not? Especially when he is so close to him? Regulus could move the slightest bit and he’d feel his skin. He could bury his nose in his neck, or his hair, and breathe in that scent.

Now that’s a stupid thought. Get it together, Regulus. It’s Potter, of all people.

Still, his traitorous mind won’t let go of the fact that James is so damn close—just a few inches, and Regulus could touch his skin. 

The cedar wood is earthy, grounding, while the citrus adds a sharpness that keeps it from being too heavy. It suits James, somehow—warm and vibrant, yet with an edge that Regulus can’t quite pin down.

He hates that it suits him.

His gaze flickers toward the curve of James’ neck, where his hairline meets his jaw. He wonders, briefly and against his will, what it would feel like to press his lips there, to bury his face in that warmth and inhale deeply. The thought flares like a match, searing and bright before he violently snuffs it out.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.  

Forcing himself to focus, Regulus shifts his gaze to where James’ attention lies. Black smoke curls in the distance, dark and thick, spiraling upward from a couple of different areas. Fires, obviously—big ones, but far enough away that they aren’t an immediate concern. The destruction feels abstract, almost irrelevant to the storm raging inside Regulus. The fires are just another problem in a world already burning.

“What do you think started it?” Sirius’s voice cuts through the tension from the front seat.

Regulus rolls his eyes, jerking away from James to break the spell. “Who knows,” he mutters. With a rough shove, he pushes James back toward his side of the car. “You fucking reek, Potter.”

James flushes instantly, his hand reflexively going to his shirt as if he can somehow change the way he smells. “Sorry..” He mumbles, looking away with a sudden bashfulness that catches Regulus off guard.

But before Regulus can process the odd sense of guilt that tugs at him, something soft hits his face—a tiny impact, but enough to startle him. So he flinches, can’t help it—when you get hit you flinch. 

He turns slowly, his eyes narrowing as they land on Sirius, who’s sitting there with an all too innocent expression, holding another small square of chocolate in his hand.

“Ne lui parle pas comme ça,” Sirius says, his eyebrow raised in warning. The way his accent, which he tried so hard to get rid of, laces the French with a casual threat makes Regulus clench his jaw. Regulus scoffs but Sirius’s jaw clenches slightly and he throws another chocolate at him before he can speak.

“Arrêtez ça!” Regulus snaps, his voice sharp as a blade. “Je lui parlerai comme bon me semble s’il vous plaît.” Another chocolate hits him on the cheek before he can finish speaking. Regulus’s eyebrow twitches in irritation, but Sirius merely shrugs. 

“Ensuite, je continuerai à lancer,” he replies nonchalantly, twirling the next piece between his fingers with a smirk that makes Regulus’s blood boil.

“Tu finiras par en manquer,” Regulus quips, his gaze snapping to James, who is staring at him, utterly clueless but wide eyed, his cheeks tainted with a slight pink. “Tu es un putain d’idiot.”

But James’ reaction is not what he expects. James has no idea what he said, he can’t, because he doesn’t know French. But the moment the words leave Regulus’s mouth, James’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his face flushes a deep red, and a choked noise leaves his parted lips.

Regulus falters, and he can see James’ throat working as he swallows. His eyes, bright and piercing, flicker downward—landing on Regulus’s lips for just a moment too long. What the hell? His own breath catches for a split second, and his lips part, but before he can comprehend the sensation flooding through him, another wrapped square of chocolate bounces off his forehead.

He jerks back, blinking rapidly. The moment is shattered, whatever it was disappearing as quickly as it came. James slams a hand over his mouth, turning back to the window. What the hell was that? He shakes his head as he forces his heartbeat to slow. He can’t be thinking things like that.

“Can we stop throwing my chocolates,” Remus cuts in, frowning, his calm voice tinged with a rare note of frustration. His hand snakes over to snatch the remaining pieces from Sirius’s lap. “I had them stashed for a reason.”

“Sorry, Moony,” Sirius replies with an exaggerated sigh, his fingers twitching as if contemplating throwing one last piece. “Just one more, I solemnly swear.” 

Regulus narrows his eyes, preemptively dodging the incoming attack. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he grabs the last chocolate from Sirius’s hand and tosses it back at his brother's face. It hits him right on the forehead, crinkling as it bounces into his lap.

Sirius’s mouth drops open in mock shock, and Regulus’s lips curl into a victorious smirk, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Good luck with that,” Regulus says, the tension in him finally breaking as he sends his brother a haughty look, that is nothing if not triumphant. But the lingering awareness of James beside him doesn’t fade, and no amount of chocolate warfare can completely erase that moment of electricity hanging between them.

— — — 

Regulus was still sitting in the back of Remus’s car, his eyes flicking over the city-scape through the window as they drove. Each street they passed seemed worse than the last—abandoned cars, shattered glass, charred buildings—they made sure to steer clear of the fires still burning. Hallow City, maybe the world, had crumpled in just a few days.

The sky darkens overhead as clouds cover the sun. Water droplets drizzle down, hitting the windshield. They were almost at the bridge now. Regulus understands that a baby should come first, but he also wants Remus to turn around so they can find their friends. 

Sirius was stiff, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. Beside him, Remus drove in silence, eyes sharp, scanning the road. And James… Well, James was quite honestly a mess.

Regulus could practically smell his anxiety. It clung to him like a second skin, mixed with the faint scent of sweat and the lingering scent of, well, whatever the hell it is. He’d never admit it, but it was driving him insane. He could almost feel the tension coiling in James, hear the chaotic swirl of thoughts in his mind—the fear, the desperation. Every twitch of James’s leg as it bounced nervously was a reminder of what they were racing toward: his son, Harry. Lily. The family he had to find, no matter the cost.

If I had a kid, I’d probably be the same, Regulus thought, though he immediately hated the empathy it stirred. He didn’t need to feel for James. He shouldn’t. He doesn’t.

Regulus’s gaze drifts back to the window, his mind still tangled in thoughts of James, but something catches his eye—a faint movement on the side of the road. At first, it’s just a shadow, nothing more than a flicker in the corner of his vision. But as they drive closer, the details sharpen, and his stomach knots.

There in the distance, a figure was hunched over a motionless form. Its pale skin glistens with a sickly sheen under the dimming light. Regulus blinks, but the scene doesn’t change. His breath hitches as he realises what it is—a walker, hunched and ravenous, tearing into something.

A dog.

His stomach churns, a wave of nausea rolling through him. He quickly looks away, fingers curling around his rings. The metal feels cold, almost soothing against his skin, but it does little to push the image from his find. It sticks, clawing at the edges of his thoughts, darkening the world around him.

Things look ten times worse when you’re not six stories above them.

He can’t even imagine what it’d be like to be on foot, running from or even fighting those things. He doesn’t even want to. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Eventually he will have to. They all will. One day, they will have to kill one of those things. For the first time. There will probably be many more after as well.

Regulus has never killed anything before. He’s thought about it. He had even wanted to kill his own parents. Because of what they did. To him, and especially what they did to his brother. Back when they were still brothers.

His jaw tightens, the memory creeping in slowly, like the cold air sneaking under a closed door. He can’t stop it—not now, not ever. It’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface. That night. The one he wishes he could forget but never will. When their own parents nearly killed their eldest son.

It starts with the familiar flicker of anger, a slow burn in his chest. His mother’s voice, sharp and cutting, echoes in his mind. Likely as painful as the belt she hit him with. His father’s hand, heavy and unrelenting. 

All because they saw a picture of Sirius kissing a boy. If only they knew both their sons turned out gay.

The rage bubbles up, more potent with every breath. He remembers how he had wanted to take his knife and stab them until there was nothing left. It scared him then, that something so terrible could so easily enter his mind. But he got used to it—the thoughts didn’t stop, just became another dark corner in his mind, until he left that house. Until he moved in with Remus.

But even now, his fingers itch to wrap around the hilt of his knife. To drive it down into their hearts and watch the life leave their eyes.

He only looks up when the music is turned down until the sound of the engine is the only thing keeping the silence at bay—the culprit is Remus. Regulus’s lip twitches downwards. Dancing Queen is a favourite for both of them.

Then, he sees why. The rain makes it a bit hard to, as it is now pelting down, but Regulus has always had good eyes. They were approaching the bridge now, and the sight of it made Regulus’s stomach turn. A barricade stretched across the road, military vehicles stationed like a line of defence against the chaos beyond. Soldiers were shouting orders, their faces hidden beneath helmets and visors. Civilians, desperate and wild-eyed, were gathered at the barricade, pleading for passage, some pushing their way toward the front, only to be shoved back by the soldiers.

“Fuck!” James’s voice cracked through the silence, jolting Regulus from his thoughts. 

“James—” Remus began, his voice steady, but James cut him off.

“We can’t turn around,” James said, his voice tight, his leg bouncing even faster now. “Harry’s out there. We can’t waste anymore time, we have to—”

“Prongs, we can’t fight our way through a barricade,” Sirius said, trying to keep his voice calm, though Regulus could hear the edge of unease in it. “They’re not letting anyone through.”

“We have to try!” James snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “What if—what if something’s happened to them? What if—”

Remus cut him off, his tone firm. “We’re not going through the barricade.”

James stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Remus—”

“James.” Remus kept his voice calm, but there was a finality to it. “If we push through, we’ll be shot. Then who’s going to find them?”

For a moment, James didn’t speak, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form a rebuttal, but the logic of Remus’s words weighed heavily on him. His leg finally stopped bouncing, but the tension didn’t leave him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair. He looked like he might break.

He shouldn’t care. He has his own problems to worry about. Not to mention, Regulus. Hates. James. But the thought of Harry—of James losing him—gnawed at him. Like something picking him apart from the inside out.

“We’ll find them,” Regulus said quietly, surprising even himself with the sudden surge of determination in his voice. He didn’t look at James when he said it. He couldn’t. But it felt like the right thing to say.

James didn’t respond, but Regulus didn’t need him to. The silence that followed said enough.

Regulus’s attention focused back on the barricade. The scene was getting worse—people were shoving, voices rising. The soldiers were yelling orders, their guns raised, and then—

Gunfire erupted.

It wasn’t just one shot. It was a barrage of bullets, loud and deafening, drowning out the chaos. People screamed. The crowd surged backward in panic, some dropping to the ground. The soldiers fired into the air, trying to regain control, but it only made things worse.

“Shit!” Sirius cursed, turning in his seat to look back at Regulus and James before turning to Remus. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

Regulus’s heart pounded in his chest. One of the soldiers aimed at a man, shouting at him to get back. He saw the man go down a moment later. The crowd raced forward, fighting back. 

Remus slammed the car into reverse, tires screeching as they backed away from the barricade. But it wasn’t just the gunfire that had Regulus on edge—it was the sound that followed.

The low, guttural moans. Regulus turned to look behind them, his eyes widened as he spotted a horde. How can there be that many already? 

“Walkers,” Regulus said, his voice low, his eyes locked on the dead pouring out of alleys and onto the same road as them.

They moved like broken marionettes, their bodies twisted and decayed, blood caking their skin. One of them dragged a mangled leg behind it, another with half its face missing. It was like there was no end to them, more and more emerging from the sides of the road, drawn by the noise, by the scent of the living.

“They’re coming!” James shouted, sitting up straight, his eyes wide.

“We’re leaving!” Remus snapped, steering through the chaos as quickly as he could. The walkers were slow, but there were so many. One of them broke away from the rest, its pale, dead eyes locked on the car, arms reaching out as if it could grab them through the glass.

“Remus!” Regulus shouted, his heart pounding. The walker was close—too close.

“I see it!” Remus growled, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. The car lurched forward as Remus accelerated, ploughing through the wreckage of another vehicle that had been abandoned in the street. The sound of torn flesh slamming against the metal was nauseating, like wet fabric being ripped apart. One of the walkers was laid across the front of their car now, its body had hit the metal with a sickening thud, but it didn’t stop. 

Its face was half ripped off, revealing the bone of his nose and snapping jaw. Regulus felt nauseous as he heard Sirius’s breath hitch, watching as its blood-smeared hand slid across the window, leaving a greasy red streak behind. 

“Hold onto something,” Remus barked.

Regulus gripped the emergency handle and the back of the seat so hard his knuckles turned white as the car slammed to a sudden stop, launching the walker off the hood and sending it tumbling across the pavement. Regulus grunted as he bounced in his seat, struggling to stay put. “Merde,” he cursed under his breath. 

It got back up like nothing happened. They were caught right in the middle—walkers behind them and a riot in front of them—one way tickets to Death’s door on both sides. 

Remus wasted no time, shifting the car into gear and speeding away before another one could get too close. The next turn was closer to the bridge. The once clear road ahead was now blurred by the rain and bloody handprint on the window. A bullet ricocheted off the car as he veered to the left, avoiding an abandoned truck. Regulus felt his body get pulled to the side from the force of how quickly the vehicle turned and planted his feet, attempting to right himself.

“Get down!” James shouted, grabbing Regulus and pushing him down against the seat as he ducked. He could feel James’ heart pounding in his chest, pressed against Regulus’s back. Regulus heard it before he felt the glass fall over them. He peeked through James’ warm arms, which were still wrapped around him—keeping him in place. 

The front window was also smashed. Sirius was all but sitting on the floor of the cover watching Remus with pure fear. He was still driving, he had leaned down in a poor excuse of taking cover, but what else could he do? Regulus watched him too—even though he didn’t want to, didn’t want to see his best friend shot, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Because what if he did get shot?

James’ arms tightened around him as he attempted to wriggle out of his grasp and Regulus realised that he had grabbed hold of his shirt, fabric clenched in his fists. He yanked them away with a jolt but stayed down, waiting for them to be clear from the chaos.

He didn’t move again—at least not on purpose as the car veered left and right with James doing his best to hold them both still and out of the line of fire—until Remus sat up straight, relief crossing his features. Then he shot upright and pushed James off of him, nearly butting heads with Sirius as he all but climbed onto the centre console to check on Remus.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” Remus muttered but he didn’t protest as they looked him over, Sirius practically climbed onto him to make sure he wasn’t bleeding anywhere. He isn’t. “Did anyone get hit,” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No,” Regulus leaned back and allowed his eyes to run over the others. Sirius was fine, just some glass caught in his long curls. 

“I’m okay, Moony.” Sirius assured him, grabbing his hand with both of his own—thumb caressing his skin as he glanced back at Regulus and James. 

Regulus could hear James breathing heavily beside him and finally turned to him. His cheek was cut. He didn’t mean to do it. It just.. happened.

His left hand darted forward, grabbing hold of James’ nape and pulling him closer. His right hand pressed the sleeve of his shirt against the cut, dabbing the blood away, as James hissed. It isn’t deep, but he’s still bleeding. Regulus felt irritated. Angry even.

“James,” Remus asked, his voice shaking with worry.

“He’s fine,” Regulus said with a scowl. He could feel Sirius and James’ eyes on him and did his best to ignore it. “Just a cut on his cheek.”

‘Just’. As if the mere sight of his blood hadn’t sent panic through him. As if the fact that he even panicked, or that he got hurt because he had shielded Regulus from the glass, didn’t make his blood boil.

Regulus pulled away like James’ skin had burned him. Let him bleed, Regulus thought. What’s it matter to him?

The silence in the car was thick, broken only by the rhythmic thrum of the rain against the windows and the occasional rasp of James’ breathing. His eyes were wide, still staring back at the carnage they had just narrowly avoided.

His leg began bouncing again. A nervous tick Regulus had begun to recognize. But he doesn’t say anything this time. None of them do. Regulus’s heart still pounds, adrenaline pumping through him, from what they just witnessed—what could have killed them all.

James ran a hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes as if trying to clear away the image of the dead and the riot. His fingers shook slightly as they rested in his lap, and though Regulus didn’t want to, he found himself glancing over at him, noticing the exhaustion etched into his features.

Regulus swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away. James is weak. He’s too nice, too good. He isn’t built for this. He’s never gone through anything like this before. Regulus and Sirius have, many times over, with their parents. Remus has, with his schizophrenic father trying to kill him thinking he was a werewolf every time he had one of his episodes—which was often, his father had only gotten worse with time. 

But James? He had the perfect life, perfect parents. Regulus isn’t sure he’s ever even been in danger before. He might not..

None of that matters. It’s none of Regulus’s concern. But that nagging sense of unease wouldn’t leave him alone. He hated it. Just as much as James’ scent.

Remus drove on in tense silence, the rain making the road slick beneath them, and the only thing that kept Regulus grounded was the feeling of his cold metal rings beneath his fingers as he fidgeted with them.

“Where to now?” Sirius’s voice broke through the silence, though it was softer, lacking the usual bravado.

Remus’s eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror, meeting Regulus’s eyes briefly before shifting to Sirius. “Barty and Evan are on this side of the city too. We should check their place since we can’t cross yet.” Regulus couldn’t agree more, and thankfully, the others didn’t protest.

They drove in silence for about twenty minutes before the car rolled to a stop, its sputtering engine finally giving out.