i knew you once

James’ stomach dropped as Regulus slumped forward, his body limp and head heavy against his lap. He froze for a split second, dread and worry tangling together as he took in his unconscious form.

“Regulus?” he called softly, cupping the back of his head. His pulse was still there—steady but faint under his fingertips. Relief flickered briefly, but it did little to soothe the sight of Regulus so vulnerable, his face drawn with pain even as he lay motionless.

“Alright, you’re okay,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure who he was reassuring more—himself or Regulus. 

Minutes felt like hours when he finally stirred, his lashes fluttering, a groan escaping his lips as he reached to cover his eyes from the sunlight that slanted into the room. James snapped his fingers, shutting the drapes behind his desk to relieve some of the pressure.

“Easy, Reg. Just breathe,” he murmured, gently brushing a stray lock of raven hair from his brow. “You’re alright. Do you remember what happened?”

Regulus blinked, his eyes still glazed with confusion. “I… I don’t know. My head… It’s like they’re blocking me,” he muttered, sitting up and gripping his temples again. “I think I saw them—my parents. Their faces were just shadows… I couldn’t make them out.”

James nodded, his voice low and calm. “That’s good. I know it’s painful but it just means you’re getting closer to the crux of this. We’ll go slowly, okay?”

Regulus let his hand fall, and with a voice softened by exhaustion but edged with determination he said, “I want to remember.” He turned away, his gaze on his bookshelf as though his own story were written into one of the books there, “I want to know who I am.”

James squeezed his hand, “We’ll take it one step at a time. You don’t have to face this alone.”

They stayed, sat on the floor, tangled in one another, for a long time after.

____________

After Regulus’ episode, they decided they would take it incredibly slow so while James went to Ponza, he would leave Regulus a box of mementos with pictures of his friends and other bits from his time at school so that he may refamiliarize himself with people and places that he may know deep down.

“What if Dumbledore stops by again?” Lily worried as she finished packing her bag.

James winced at the thought. It wasn’t impossible—Dumbledore had a way of showing up unannounced, always with that air of benevolent concern. He claimed he only wanted to ensure their safety, but James suspected the old man’s real aim was to keep tabs on them. Merlin forbid they did something unsanctioned.

Still, he optimistically thought Dumbledore would leave them alone for now, at least notifying them before deciding to show up.

He told Lily as much and she just nodded though a look of doubt still lingered on her face as  she turned back to her suitcase, stuffing in a few more shirts with the force of someone fighting a losing battle against space.

“Go and pack Harry’s things will you?” She made it sound like a question but it was more of an order than anything else so he nodded, pushing off the doorframe and heading into the nursery to get the job done.

He set to work, folding an unreasonable number of tiny onesies, vests, and sleepers into neat rolls. He’d just found his rhythm when a scream tore through the house.

His heart leapt into his throat, and he dropped the stack of clothes, sprinting for the door. 

“Lily what-,” he hurried as he ran into the room but Lily put a tense finger to her lip, telling him to be silent. She used her other finger to point at the floor and when he followed her wide-eyed gaze, he saw she was pointing to a shard of glass on the floor.

He peered closer and what he saw was not the reflection of the ceiling, but of darkness. There was a muffled sound emanating from it, as though someone were carrying something through dimensions. It was like watching the tele, and he realised that this was his two-way mirror- the one he used to speak with Sirius whenever they were apart.

Both of them stood a couple feet away from the mirror as though it were a bomb and he was about to step closer when he heard a voice,

“I think you’re hearing things.”

“I’m not,” the male voice insisted, “I swear I heard a shout from it.”

“And when you checked?”

“Look.”

More shuffling then suddenly the view changed from what was presumably the inside of his pocket to the face behind the voice.

This was the first of Sirius he had seen in months and he felt frozen to the spot, a swell of emotions rising up within him, urging him to run to the mirror and say something, but he knew better than that.

Sirius looked tired—purple shadows clung beneath his red-rimmed eyes, his long hair pulled tightly back as if to impose some order on the chaos. His face seemed sharper, thinner, like he’d shed more than just weight. As he adjusted the mirror, it tilted just enough to catch a glimpse of Remus who almost looked worse- his skin practically translucent, as if the wear of sleepless nights and unspoken worries had hollowed him out.

“It’s just a wall I think,” Sirius said, bringing it up closer to view.

“Someone must’ve stolen it off the property then, Aurors are always nicking things they like,” Remus suggested. “Or maybe it’s broken.”

Sirius’ face was downcast as he frowned and murmured, “Finis loqui,” ending the call.

The mirror changed back into an actual mirror and they both finally loosed a breath.

“What just happened?” James asked, his voice uneven as he knelt to retrieve the mirror. His fingers traced the smooth, cool surface, and for a fleeting moment, he wished he could will Sirius into being—feel the warmth of his arm beneath his hand, hear his low chuckle beside him. He missed him so desperately it ached.

Lily’s face scrunched up as she pushed back her hair, “I was going through the drawers, talking to myself—you know how I do,” she said, and he did, her habit a familiar comfort. “And when I found that, I said to myself it must’ve been the mirror you and Sirius used to talk with back at school…”

She trailed off, but James was already lost in the memory. He could see it so vividly—the two of them sneaking out to opposite corners of the castle, using the mirrors to coordinate pranks or trade whispered jokes during detention. They’d hated being apart, even for an hour or two, and the mirrors had been their lifeline. All they had to do was say the other person's name and the mirrors would connect.

“He must keep it with him…waiting for you,” Lily murmured.

The everpresent crack in James’ heart fissured.

Sirius carried the mirror around, waiting for James to call the same way Kreacher kept Regulus’ room clean, waiting for him to come back.

“Did he see you?” he asked, his voice hollow.

“I don’t know,” Lily admitted with a small shrug. “I threw it the second the glass changed.” She hesitated, studying him. “Are you okay?”

Was he? The question felt too big, too sharp. He doubted he’d ever truly know the answer.

James gave her a quiet nod and turned, heading back to Harry’s nursery. There was no point in lingering, no point in wallowing. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

____________

They safely landed in Italy a few hours later in a small alcove by their hotel and once they had checked that everyone was okay, Harry flashing them a smile from where he was strapped to Lily’s front, they were off to check in.

Lily took charge at the front desk, her voice calm and efficient, while James let his gaze wander. 

The lobby was stunning, lined with rich wood panelling and dotted with intricate paintings. He graciously accepted a small glass of fruit juice from a woman balancing a gold tray, the cool drink refreshing against the warm evening air.

But the true masterpiece was beyond the pocket doors, folded open to reveal a breathtaking view of the sea. James drifted toward them, mesmerised by the expanse of water framed by cliffs and pastel-coloured houses stacked like Lego bricks down the slope, their reflections shimmering on the surface below.

Lily had chosen incredibly well and once they were up in their room, they took even more time to simply stare out of the balcony doors while Harry dozed off in his crib, tired after the journey. For the first time in a long time, James felt like he could finally breathe.

The breeze was sweet and warm and the sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in strokes of pink and orange to match the buildings of the town. Some boats were still at sea, their white sails bright, and he wished for a camera to capture the scene.

“It’s been a long time since we slept in the same bed,” Lily murmured as she walked into the bedroom to join him, her head resting on his shoulder, her lavender scented perfume suffusing his senses.

“Care to make Harry a sibling?” he joked and Lily laughed, lightly smacking him on the arm as she straightened.

“D’you ever think about that though? Harry having a sibling I mean?” she asked after a minute.

James tilted his head, considering. “Now that you mention it... not really.” He chuckled softly. “To be fair, we didn’t exactly plan for Harry, did we? A second kid feels... far off.”

“But then he’d be an only child, is that not…sad?”

“Hey, I’m an only child,” he pointed out, nudging her gently.

“And look at how you turned out,” she teased, the corners of her mouth lifting.

He laughed, the sound light and unburdened. “Fair point.”

“I think I’ve just been missing Petunia a bit more than usual lately,” she frowned. “It’s odd, going so long without seeing or speaking to her.”

James fought the urge to groan. He hated that woman. Hated her for her coldness, her sneers, and the cutting way she spoke to Lily. He’d only met her the handful of times and that was already too much.

Lily turned to him, her eyes shining with a mix of emotions in the fading light. “She wasn’t always so horrible, okay? It’s just... after Mum and Dad passed, she got colder. And Vernon didn’t help—he’s just moulded her into a female version of himself.”

James tried, really tried, to dredge up some sympathy, but it wasn’t easy. “And the whole calling you a freak of nature thing?” he asked, his tone sharper than he meant.

Lily dropped her gaze, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. The pink lacquer on her nails was chipped, small flakes catching the light. “I can’t entirely blame her for that either,” she admitted. “I mean, can you imagine? Finding out your sibling had magic, this whole other world they belonged to, while you were left behind? Just because of some random genetic lottery?”

James felt the smallest kernel of sympathy bloom within him. Her words softened the edges of his resentment, though it still lingered.

“She wrote a letter to Dumbledore, you know,” Lily continued, her voice quieter now.

“Wait, what? What did she say?” James asked, genuinely startled. He couldn’t even picture how Petunia would send a letter to someone like Dumbledore.

“She begged,” Lily said, her lips curling downward as she bit the edge of her bottom lip. “She begged him for a spot, promised she’d try her hardest at magic. Said if I could do it, so could she. But Dumbledore said no, of course.”

James frowned, watching as Lily’s expression darkened.

“I found her crying after she read the letter,” she added, her voice trembling slightly. “I read it myself. She really, truly tried.”

James didn’t know what to say. It was a sad story, yes, but it didn’t erase years of bitterness. It didn’t undo the way Petunia had treated Lily, the way she blamed her for things she couldn’t control—including their parents’ deaths, her claiming they were lonely without Lily.

Still, he could understand it a little better now, the pain of losing a sister to a world she’d never be part of. He wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

After a moment, he broke the heavy silence, his voice lighter. “I think Harry will be alright with just us around. We’re a hoot,” he said, grinning.

Lily let out a reluctant laugh, the tension easing from her face. “I suppose we are,” she agreed.

The sun had set by then, reduced to nothing more than a scarlet sliver kissing the ocean’s edge so they dressed again in much more appropriate clothes- shedding their jumpers for linen shirts and boots for sandals, heading back out into the town to find something for dinner.

They found themselves in a bright red building that advertised itself as an Italian restaurant with all you can eat pasta which was perfect because James truly felt like he could eat an entire hippogriff right now.

The staff seated them quickly, and ordering was an entertaining mix of broken English, enthusiastic hand gestures, and a lot of pointing at the menu. Neither of them were particularly worried though—how bad could it be? With a nod and a grin, their waiter took the menus and bustled off to the kitchen, where the symphony of clattering pots, roaring fires, and chefs shouting orders created a lively backdrop.

Over steaming bowls of pasta, they planned the next two days, dreaming up excursions and laughing between bites. One bowl turned into two, then three, until James found himself discreetly undoing the top button of his trousers, his stomach stretching dangerously close to rebellion. But the food was too good to stop. Across the table, Lily leaned back in her chair, rubbing her stomach with exaggerated theatrics.

“Food baby?” James teased, grinning.

“Definitely,” she groaned, shaking her head with a laugh.

Finding a gelato shop to round out the evening, they walked along the beach, kicking up sand and stones while listening to the melodic push and pull of the water against their feet, the water a cool shock against the warm night.

“Thank you James, for bringing us here, it was a really good idea,” Lily said, grinning up at him, pushing her arm through his so that they were linked together. Harry walked a few steps in front of them, leaning down to check on something closely before taking another few steps and doing it again- he was a bit like a newborn puppy as he explored the world for the first time.

“You don’t have to thank me, I needed it too- it was all getting a bit too much back there,” he breathed, folding his arms across his chest.

“I can’t imagine what it’ll be like for him, once he gets all his memories back,” Lily mused. Regulus always somehow managed to sneak into their every conversation.

“If he gets them back,” James pointed out, ensuring that neither of their hopes got too high. “I just want to know what happened, what exactly could have done this to him.”

A strong wave surged up the shore, cold and insistent, curling around his ankles and retreating as though beckoning him further into the water. James looked out at the ocean—it was nothing like the inviting aquamarine expanse it had been earlier. Now it was a dark, restless mass, the black waves blending seamlessly with the ink-stained night sky. It felt endless and unsettling, a vast unknown stretching into nothingness.

Further out, a few figures waded in the shallows, their silhouettes faint in the dim light. He wondered how mad they must be to brave the water’s icy grasp.

He nodded, though his mind drifted elsewhere—to Kreacher. The old elf knew what had happened to Regulus, too. Whatever had taken those memories, whatever had caused this fractured state, it all seemed to tie back to that locket.

James’ jaw tightened as he gazed out at the roiling black sea. He would find out the truth—no matter what it took.

____________

James lay stiffly beside Lily on the bed, the room dark and quiet except for the soft sounds of her breathing. Normally, sleeping next to her wouldn’t have been an issue, but the persistent tap, tap, tap against the window was unmistakable—an owl. And the last thing he wanted was to explain why he was receiving correspondence when they were supposedly “off the grid.”

He slid out of bed as quietly as possible, not daring to make a noise louder than a breath with how light of a sleeper she was, and he ran to the balcony doors, wrenching them open and letting the owl in.

It swooped onto the dresser, staring at him with unblinking, expectant black eyes. James offered a sheepish shrug, mouthing, Sorry, no treats. The owl clearly didn’t appreciate the apology, delivering a sharp nip to his hand before sticking out its leg with an exaggerated flick of attitude.

"Alright, alright," James muttered under his breath, untying the parchment. He recognized Evan's handwriting at once and retreated to the sitting room, the cool moonlight spilling through the windows illuminating the paper. He tore the seal off hastily and read.

J,

I have about a dozen questions I could ask you right now, but given that you haven’t provided any explanation for this, I doubt you’d answer them.

In any case, yes I have actually seen this sketch before- Regulus drew it himself, or so he claims- I never knew him as an artist. Either way, he sketched a lot towards the end. I stumbled upon these drawings many times in our dorm when he thought me and Barty would otherwise be out.

He did a lot of research as well- dark magic, things like that.

He was always rather secretive of it so I didn’t know what it was about but these sketches were somehow involved with them, of this I’m sure.

I wish I could offer more but Regulus was so quiet near the end, so protective of his work, taciturn and cagey, that I myself didn’t know what was going on until he was gone.

In regards to this drawing, know it is probably important but is worthless to you now.

Stay safe,

E.

James exhaled slowly, folding the letter and pulling the sketch from his pocket where he seemed to always keep it. He ran his thumb over the lines, feeling the faint indentations of Regulus’ hand in the paper. It was maddeningly cryptic—just like Regulus had been in those final days.

He needed to go back to Grimmauld Place. He had to retrace Regulus’ steps, dig deeper into whatever had consumed him.

Answers were waiting there, buried in shadows. He just needed to unearth them.

__________

The next two days passed in a blissful haze of indulgence. They ate until they were stuffed, lounged on the beach like sun-drenched seals, and wandered through the quaint stalls lining the waterfront. The trinkets were overpriced—James knew they were being ripped off—but neither he nor Lily had the heart to haggle. The charm of the little souvenirs was worth the cost.

For a time, the weight of the Wizarding World and its ever-looming complications faded to the background. James tried not to think about what might be brewing in his absence, though the pangs of guilt were hard to ignore. And then there was Regulus. Whatever he was doing in France remained as much a mystery as ever.

James caught himself toying with the ring on his finger again, his thumb brushing over its warm edges.

Regulus had to have noticed it by now. James was sure of it—the way Regulus’ eyes had flicked to the matching band on his own hand, the brief flash of recognition in his gaze. But he hadn’t said a word, leaving James to wonder if he’d dismissed it as coincidence or was simply avoiding the subject altogether.

“Ready?” Lily’s voice drew him back, her hands full with Harry as he wriggled and kicked, trying to free himself from his shoes yet again. Their shrunken suitcases rested by her feet.

James nodded, pocketing the luggage and reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

Two quick jumps later, they landed back in Paris, where the weather welcomed them with an unrelenting deluge. Fat, heavy raindrops pelted them with surprising force, drenching them in seconds. It reminded James of playing Quidditch in the rain, except this time, the bludgers were rain.

Laughing breathlessly, they hurried up the stairs to their flat, kicking off their soaked shoes as soon as they were through the door. They peeled off their clingy, wet clothes and swapped them for warm, dry layers.

James wrapped himself in a blanket, finally allowing himself to breathe as the weight of the journey settled over him. Long-distance Apparition had never been easy, and after so long without practising, it had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. His trips to London had kept the skill from growing rusty, but it still felt like stretching a muscle he hadn’t used in years—uncomfortable yet oddly satisfying.

They spent the rest of the day wrapped up on the sofa. Lily sat with her back against the armrest, her legs splayed out by his hip with a book in hand and James mirroring her position on the opposite side with Harry in his playpen on the floor, staring up at Inspector Gadget on the tele off one of his many adventures.

The book he was currently reading featured a male protagonist on a quest to find some hidden treasure that was meant to save the fate of his world only when he came upon the fated chest, he found it to be empty. His quest had been for naught because the information he had been given was faulty and was instead a trap where he was captured by the villain and was currently being held in a cage suspended over a pit of lava.

James groaned, tossing aside the book because the it ended with the lava rising higher in the pit, just about to touch the wood of the cage and set the whole thing alight and the sequel was not yet out.

This reminded him why he hated reading.

“Right well, I’m off to bed,” he sighed, standing up straighter and stretching his limbs. He had to go back to work tomorrow anyways and the stress of that coupled with the fact that Harry was jet lagged and was likely going to be up all night meant he needed to try and get as much sleep as he could now.

“Goodnight,” Lily replied absently, her eyes glued to the page of her book. He could probably say or do anything and she’d have the same response so he just pressed a kiss to her head, scooped Harry up, and went to get them both ready for bed.

____________

When James arrived at the café the next morning, it wasn’t Marc waiting for him but Regulus. Regulus, who looked like he hadn’t slept in a decade and had survived on fumes alone.

“How are you?” James asked as soon as they were inside.

Regulus fixed him with a flat look, one that teetered between exasperation and disbelief. “You know, I’m starting to regret giving Marc the freedom to hire whoever he liked.”

James raised a brow. “And why’s that?”

“Because I haven’t slept in Merlin knows how many days—thanks to you,” Regulus replied, his tone accusatory but lacking any real venom.

“Thinking about me, were you?” he smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Make that Sirius,” Regulus sighed heavily, leaning against the counter. He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into every angle of his features. Even gaunt and weary, he was achingly beautiful. “I keep seeing flashes of a boy. He looks like me, so I can only assume it’s him—Sirius. They’re never the same, but he’s always there. Sometimes he’s smiling, other times he’s furious. I try to talk, but no sound comes out. All I can do is watch.”

He hesitated, his expression clouding with unease. “I saw… my parents, I think? Their faces blur if I focus too hard, so I just stay with the ones about Sirius. But none of it feels real. It’s like watching a scene from someone else’s life. I don’t remember any of it.”

The worry in his voice tightened something in James’s chest. This was the Regulus he remembered—the one he never wanted to see again. Restless, troubled, lost.

James forced himself to stay calm as this wasn’t permanent- he could help.

“What do you say about going to see a healer?” he asked gently.

“A healer? What like someone who will give me some herbs and ring a bell over my head to make it all better?” he sniped.

“They’re our version of a doctor,” James replied, refusing to rise to the bait. “I know someone who specialises in memory issues—she’s brilliant. I think she can help you sort through all this, more than I ever could.”

Regulus’s doubt was written all over his face. James stepped closer, grasping his hand. “I’ll be with you the entire time,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “And answer any and all questions you have.”

Regulus’s breath hitched. For a moment, James thought he might pull away, but instead, he tightened his grip, his gaze lifting slowly to meet James’s. “You said we knew each other before. What were you to me?”

“I…” James faltered, panic nipping at the edges of his resolve. “We knew each other through Sirius. We were partnered in some classes…”

“It’s just, ever since I met you, I felt like I knew you…once, and with the memories back, I can’t help but wonder what the ones featuring you might be like,” he breathed, his other hand coming up to cradle his face, his touch so gentle and sweet that James could just melt into it, like molten sugar, “I’ve never felt this way about someone before and I can’t help but think there must be a reason for it.”

James’s heart was a thunderstorm in his chest. “What way?” he whispered.

“May I?” Regulus asked, his voice a soft plea.

James couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He nodded.

Regulus leaned up, his lips a gentle brush against his, a barely-there touch that if either of them moved even a centimetre, they would lose contact.

Regulus let out a small noise from the back of his throat and James’ restraint snapped on the thread with which it was hanging on to. He pushed forward, one hand resting on Regulus’ side, his other resting on his neck and he didn’t increase pressure, allowing Regulus to, but being able to touch him in this way, feel him under his fingers, so alive and real, was heady, his blood rushing away from his head and to his heart leaving him dizzy.

Regulus gave and took in equal measure and when they broke apart to take a breath, Regulus rested his forehead against James,’ his argent tinted eyes wide and blinking at him. 

A shy smile creeped over his lips, “Just like in the memory.”

James blinked, still struggling to catch his breath. Regulus stepped back, putting just enough distance between them to clear his throat. “And yes, I’ll go to the healer with you.”

Before he could respond, Regulus slipped away, disappearing into the back to finish opening the shop.

James couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss for the rest of the day. It lingered in his mind like a phantom touch, the soft press of Regulus’s lips against his, the warmth of his breath, the tentative way he’d leaned in as though afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too quickly.

It was everything James had once dreamed of and everything he’d told himself he would never have again. Yet there it was, impossibly real, replaying in vivid detail every time he closed his eyes.

He should have been focused on his work, on the papers in front of him or the endless stream of people passing through the café, but his mind refused to cooperate. All he could think about was the way Regulus had looked at him, like James was the only thing in the room, the only thing that mattered.

It wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the weight behind it. The hesitant affection, the unspoken questions, and the raw vulnerability Regulus had let slip through the cracks of his usually guarded exterior.

And the worst—or perhaps the best—part? James wanted more.

____________

At the end of the day, he went to Grimmauld again and instead of knocking, he simply stepped right in.

He only made it two steps before Kreacher popped into existence right in front of him, nearly causing James to run over him, “Wow you are quick aren’t you,” he said, straightening himself.

“James is breaking into the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black,” he stated. “James is not permitted to be breaking in so freely.”

“Yes well, I wanted to save you the trouble of having to open the door, plus it was left open so that’s really an oversight on your part,” he tutted, as they walked side-by-side. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Kreacher was warming up to him because old-Kreacher would’ve had much more to say with much more attitude.

When he looked back at the elf, he saw him looking up at him with narrowed eyes, as if he was looking right through him, “James is being different today.”

“And why do you say that,” he asked.

Kreacher only shook his head and remained silent.

“So Kreacher, I need you to be honest with me, like truly and wholeheartedly, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

The elf didn’t reply.

“O-kay,” he drew out, “Well, quite frankly, I need you to tell me more about that locket of yours. The curiosity is driving me mad.”

Kreacher’s face instantly soured and James ought to have expected that. He disappeared a second later.

With a sigh, James turned towards the stairs and headed up to Regulus’ room- he would have to figure this out the hard way.

Seated cross-legged on the floor in front of Regulus’s wardrobe, James delved back into the little mystery box that had been haunting his thoughts. The sheer amount of material was daunting, but he’d committed himself to the task.

Pulling out his wand, he tapped it against the first page of the journal resting at the top, and a neat date appeared in the top-right corner. Satisfied, he repeated the charm on the next few pages, discovering that the entries were recorded in chronological order. That made sense, at least.

He moved on to the next journal and performed the same charm. To his surprise, this one predated the first by about three months. Carefully, he placed it next to the first, mentally sketching a timeline.

Then came a stack of loose parchment, haphazard and chaotic in comparison to the journals. The dates jumped around, interspersed with the periods when Regulus had been actively journaling. It was messy, but James needed to make sense of it.

As the hours dragged on, the floor around him transformed into a maze of papers, journals, and books. He shuffled back to make room, arranging earlier entries at the top of the timeline and later ones at the bottom. More than once, he bumped into the bed or dresser, muttering under his breath as he tried to keep everything in perfect order.

Stacks began to form atop one another as the room’s available floor space rapidly diminished. By the time he finished double-checking everything, James found himself standing in the hallway, peering back into a room utterly blanketed with neatly organised notes.

It wasn’t until he glanced out the window that he realised how much time had passed. The sun, no longer high in the sky, had begun its slow descent, bathing the room in a warm, golden light. He swore softly, realising the afternoon had entirely slipped away.

Grabbing his wand, James cast a strong sticking charm over the papers, securing them to the floor. Kreacher was known for his relentless cleaning habits when it came to this room and James couldn’t risk the little elf tidying away hours of painstaking work.

Dating each item was arduous, organising it even more so, so he used the strongest charm he could think of, and dashed out of the house, spinning on his heel and apparating home the instant he stepped out onto the porch.

He landed mid-step, stumbling a bit before straightening and he hastily bustled inside his building, side-stepping an older woman on her way out while her small dog yapped at him from the cradle of her arms.

James slipped into the flat just as Lily stepped out of the shower.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, her brows raised in mild surprise. Her towel, precariously perched atop her head like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, wobbled dangerously with every movement. Her robe was cinched so tightly around her waist it looked like it might cut off circulation to her legs.

 While the sight was funny, that also meant she had taken one of her long showers so to save himself a good 45 minutes of being out he replied,

“Yeah, I got back right as you got in the shower,” he lied smoothly, giving her an earnest nod.

She hmphed, clearly unconvinced, and turned toward the kitchen. Moments later, she pulled a tub of premade cookie dough from the fridge, scooping out a piece to snack on.

One of the many things James adored about the Muggle world was its dazzling array of prepackaged snacks. Crisps, sweets, biscuits—an entire universe of convenience that wizarding folk had yet to truly embrace. Every time he stepped into a shop, he had to stop himself from clearing out the shelves, tempted by the sheer variety of flavours and brands.

If Voldemort ever tasted this stuff, James was sure he’d call off his war just to spend his days sampling Muggle treats. Assuming, of course, Voldemort actually ate food. James wasn’t entirely sure about that.

“So you spoke to the Healer then? She’ll keep it a secret?” Lily asked around a bite.

“What?”

“Well that’s where you were right?”

“Oh yeah, she’s still loyal to the Order,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck knowing that he actually still needed to do that.

“Great,” she replied, nodding, “Everything is falling into place and I have a feeling the hard part is over.”

He unfortunately didn’t share her overly-optimistic sentiment.

____________

Two days later, they stood at the Apparition point closest to the café.

“James, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Regulus muttered, his face already tinged with an unflattering shade of green as he glanced nervously around the narrow alleyway.

“Don’t worry—it’ll feel uncomfortable, sure, but it’s perfectly safe. I do it all the time,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Regulus didn’t look convinced. “But how can you just teleport from Paris to London? That’s mad.”

He looked so genuinely horrified, like he was about to be dragged onto the battlefield instead of being transported to a quiet office in St. Mungo’s. It was, frankly, adorable.

“Need I remind you that you used to do this quite often yourself?” James teased. “You were rather talented—not as much as me, of course, but you managed well enough.”

“If I don’t remember it, it doesn’t count,” Regulus pouted, crossing his arms. Then he sighed, his expression softening. “I really wish you looked like yourself right now.” His hand rose, fingers brushing lightly through a lock of James’s glamoured blonde hair.

James reached up, taking Regulus’s hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze. “Soon,” he promised. “Now, listen. When we get there, I’ll need to explain a few things to the Healer first. A lot of it might not make sense to you—or worse, it might sound completely insane—but that’s okay. In time, it’ll all start to click. Are you ready?”

Regulus hesitated, his eyes wide and glimmering with something like hope. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. His hand was warm in James’s, a grounding presence. James took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and the alley vanished.

They landed in the receiving area of St. Mungo’s, and without missing a beat, James tightened his hold on Regulus’s hand and led him briskly down to the Magical Maladies ward, all the while he he moaned that he was going to be sick and that James was cruel for making him do this and why in god’s name did that man in the waiting room have an elephant trunk for a nose?

When they reached Healer Mayfield’s office, James knocked lightly on the door and she instantly called out, “Come in!”

James glanced at Regulus, who didn’t return the look, his focus darting up and down the corridor instead. Shrugging, he pushed the door open, ushering them both inside.

“Marc!” Healer Mayfield greeted him warmly, rising from her desk to shake his hand. “How are you? I must admit, I keep thinking about our last conversation—truly fascinating stuff. Mentally titillating, even!” She laughed lightly before turning to Regulus with an assessing gaze. “And you are?”

Before he could answer, James needed to establish a few things.

To get Regulus’ memory back, he knew they needed to be completely honest- no lies or deception, so that she could do her job to the best of her abilities. However, in doing so, they would be breaking a dozen different rules and bringing two very high risk people back from the dead so he needed to ensure she would stay quiet.

It wasn’t that he thought her a traitor but there was no being too sure.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before saying “I’m afraid I need to ask something serious of you Healer. These appointments—me, being here. It’s not something that can get out. No one can know. Not family, not friends. No one.”

She leaned forward, suddenly more serious than she had been, “Marc, patient confidentiality is standard. No one would hear a word about you from me.”

He paused , searching her face, “It’s more than that. I need you to… I need you to understand that this isn’t a regular situation. If anyone finds out, it wouldn’t just put me in danger. It would ruin… everything.”

He watched her weigh his words, “I’m sorry- do you mean to say you’re…hiding?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s... complicated. My life, someone else’s life—it’s all tied up in this. In staying... under the radar. Can I trust you with that?”

She swallowed, glancing away before back at him, he heard the distinct click of her door locking, “I took an oath to protect my patients, in every way I can. But… if what you’re saying means I could be involved in something dangerous, I need to understand exactly what that entails.”

He pulled his wand out and he watched her eyes widen before she realised he was turning it back on himself- he let the glamorous melt away and realisation dawned on her, breaking bright like the sun over the horizon.

Her voice was faraway and dreamy, “James? I- you- you died.”

He was surprised to find himself a bit emotional- to finally have someone from his old life know, to see him and know him for who he truly was, “Lily, Harry, and I are all in hiding from You-Know-Who.”

“But the cottage- the Order called me out there if anyone survived but it was blown to pieces- how did you do it?”

“It wasn’t all that hard when our lives were on the line,” he breathed, then he turned to Regulus, who had been silent the entire time.

He swallowed nervously, sitting up straight, “And I’m Regulus.” He seemed unsure how to proceed.

James continued for him, filling in the blanks, “Regulus Black, Sirius’ little brother.”

At this her jaw truly dropped, her blue eyes roving over him like he was a particularly interesting case she was finding difficult to solve- he could see the gears in her head turning and he began to squirm under her gaze.

“And he’s the case you were referring to? The one suffering from memory loss?” she asked.

He nodded and started explaining their story from the start.

They were finally on the road to getting some answers and a kernel of hope settled itself deep in his chest, begging to be nurtured and fueled because he didn’t think he’d be able to handle another loss- not when they had already come so far.

___________

Healer Mayfield had been diligently taking notes the entire time he had been talking all the while Regulus filled in anything he didn’t know and she had even had some questions of her own, more practical and assessing in nature, wanting to exactly what he had felt, how the physical symptoms manifested, and timeline for everything else.

“I want to start by thanking you both for coming to me and trusting me with this case. While I specialise in this treatment, you are the first patient to come to me with something like this so I admit there will be a lot of guessing and hoping on both of our ends,” she said with a small reassuring smile. 

“I’d like to start with you as I start with all of my patients- using Legilimency. It’s a magical ability through which I can essentially step into your mind. I’ll be able to navigate the landscape of your memories- get a lay of the land so to speak. Will that be alright?”

He could see the way Regulus cringed at her words, physically going in on himself- it made his heart clench.

"Okay, I did it. Now, your turn," James said with a grin, opening his eyes after meticulously reworking his Occlumency shields.

He wasn’t naturally gifted in the art the way Regulus was—few were—but it was an intriguing branch of magic, one he found fun to explore, especially with Regulus as his partner.

"Let’s see," Regulus replied, raising a sceptical brow as he scooted closer on the blanket. The shift brought them inches apart, their breaths mingling in the cool outside air. “Legilimens,” he whispered, the incantation whispered like a caress against James’s skin.

James braced himself as Regulus entered his mind. It wasn’t what he had imagined Legilimency would feel like. He’d expected something invasive and rough, like someone rifling through sand with frantic, clumsy fingers. But Regulus’s presence was gentle, methodical, moving with the care of someone navigating fragile glass.

Regulus’s focus went straight for the mental walls James had just constructed, and James inwardly smirked, knowing what he’d hidden behind them. Regulus believed he’d concealed an embarrassing childhood memory. In truth, the memory was from last night—hot, heavy, and entirely designed to fluster him.

Though, Regulus must’ve sensed his emotions, because he ended up retreating, backing away and heading elsewhere. That wasn’t what James had expected and he realised Regulus must’ve mistaken his emotion for deception and suddenly he was scrambling.

James felt the tug and recognized the memory he had gone for a split second too late. There was no time to conjure a false one; the memory unfurled before them.

“Remus could’ve killed him, have you gone completely insane Sirius? This is what you do- you don’t think things through, consequences be damned!”

Sirius stood before him, shoulders hunched and shaking, his face buried in his hands. He was crying. No, sobbing.

“I didn’t—I just wanted to—”

“Enough!” Remus’s voice cut through, raw and furious. “You—”

Regulus pulled back sharply, his retreat swift and silent. The connection broke, leaving James momentarily breathless.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the distant rustle of trees and the steady hum of summer insects.

James busied himself, shutting his eyes and returning to the practice of reinforcing his mental walls. Regulus didn’t press, didn’t ask questions. What he’d seen, he chose to keep to himself.

And they never spoke of it again.

She stood, her wand drawn, and moved closer to Regulus. For a brief moment, she studied him, her sharp, discerning eyes softening at the edges as if sensing the weight of his burden. “Are you ready?”

Regulus nodded again, though his gaze flickered uncertainly toward James. James squeezed his hand once more, grounding him, and Regulus took a deep breath.

“Legilimens!”