James Potter had always been an early riser. When he was young, his parents woke him up at seven everyday for breakfast. During his years at Hogwarts, he began to set his alarms for five-thirty so he could fly laps around the quidditch pitch and practice his throws. Now that he’d graduated, he couldn’t seem to break the habit. The Order of the Phoenix meetings didn’t require him to be up until ten at the earliest, and Sirius and Remus had been quite content with this, of course. The three of them currently lived in a flat a few miles away from James’s parents’ house. It was odd for them to adjust to life as a trio, as there had always been a fourth member of their group. Peter and James had been friends since early childhood. They were neighbors. Hell, the Pettigrews still lived on the same street as the Potters. But Peter was no longer one of them. He had joined the Death Eaters, the very group working against the Order. They were now on opposite sides of the war. Two years later, it still didn’t seem any more real than when he first found out. Sirius and Remus still didn’t know how he’d discovered Peter’s secret, they were all too disoriented after the news that they’d never asked. It was Regulus who’d told him. He’d seen Peter at a meeting that was hosted at his house, before he was forced- no, permitted- to take the mark. He’d told James, naturally. They were still together two years ago.
James had never had a very good memory, so he’d taken to journaling while they were together. He wrote down any interaction between the two of them for all three years they were together. Every moment, good or bad. Not the worst, though. James did not write about the day they broke up, or any of what he felt after. But he remembered. His whole life of forgetting, and yet ten awful minutes with Regulus burned into his mind with ease.
“Reg, hey, I was beginning to wonder whether you’d show,” James teased. Regulus and he had planned on meeting in the Astronomy Tower at eight, and it was currently eight-o-nine.
“Yes, sorry. You must’ve forgotten that my roommates are obnoxious and demand details of my whereabouts every time I leave the dorm,” Regulus said. It was a sad attempt at a joke. Normally, he would grow a fond smile when speaking of Barty and Evan, though he would never admit that he liked them. His smile now was sourly forced, and he sounded exhausted.
“Are you okay? You seem, I dunno, grumpier? than usual.”
“I’m okay, James.” He tugged at his sleeve.
“Are you sure? You’re fidgeting a lot, Reg. Are you sick?”
“No- James. Sorry, I- I just have something to tell you,” he said. He was still tugging at his sleeve.
“Reg…” James had a bad feeling.
“I love you, you know that, right? I love you and I would never do anything to put you in danger. And- and I’m sorry.” His eyes glistened with premature tears. “I’m sorry about everything. Things won’t be the same anymore, and I’m sorry about that.”
“Regulus. Show me your arm.” James hardly ever called Regulus by his full name, usually opting for a nickname instead.
“Jamie-”
“Show me.” His eyes were nervous. “Please?”
Regulus sighed. He never was able to deny James. He closed his eyes and pulled his sleeve up, revealing what James had feared. The Dark Mark. The seal of admittance to the Death Eaters. Regulus was one of them now. Regulus, who had told him about Peter and held him as he cried over it. Regulus, who cast silent hexes on anybody who disrespected muggle-born students. His Regulus.
“No. No, no, Regulus, you wouldn’t.”
“I had to. Jamie, I-”
“Don’t call me that!” James cried. “How could you do this? You could've left!”
“No, I couldn’t, you know that.”
“Sirius did!”
“Yes, well, I’m not Sirius!” Regulus did not hold back his tears anymore. They fell down his face as he yelled at James.
“Clearly. Leave me alone, Regulus. Just- don’t talk to me okay?” For once in his life, James Potter looked small . “Please.”
Now, Regulus was dead. James had read about it in the Prophet when he woke up. He had been the first one awake.
Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was-
“James,” a voice said. Gray eyes stared at him.
“Good morning Sirius. What’s up?” Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead.
“Regulus is dead.”
“Oh. Your brother?” You see, James had never told anyone that he and Regulus had been together. They’d both agreed that it was too dangerous, and so no one knew. Other than Barty and Evan. Those two were always smarter than they seemed.
“Yeah,” Sirius said. “I guess so. Depends on who you ask. But now I guess it doesn’t matter. I know he was a bad person, James. Trust me, I do. But he was still my brother. I suppose I always hoped that he would come to his senses and leave. I didn’t ever really think he would, but I didn’t want him to die. I love him. I loved him. James, does missing him make me a bad person?” Sirius rambled.
“I don’t think that makes you a bad person. You knew Regulus when he was good, too.”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks Prongs.”
“Of course, Pads. C’mere.”
Days passed and Sirius continued to mourn silently. He didn’t want to burden James or Remus with his tears, though he knew neither would turn him away if he needed a shoulder, so he set himself to work. Cleaning had always helped him. It gave him a sense of control whenever something out of his control happened. He had cleaned the bathrooms, the spare bedroom, his and Remus’s room, the kitchen, and the sitting room. That left James’s room. James had always been an open person. People would often say that he wore his heart on his sleeve. He’d never kept any secrets or gone a day without smiling. So Sirius didn’t think he would mind him cleaning his room while he was on a run. After all, what did he have to hide?
A lot, apparently. James’s bedside table had a drawer filled with papers and journals and small trinkets. Sirius smiled, happy to have a task to distract himself with. He quickly began stacking the journals and straightening the papers when something caught his eye. At the bottom of the top paper lay familiar initials alongside an unfamiliar valediction.
All my love, R. A. B.
What? Sirius’s mind whirred. Surely it couldn’t be. But the handwriting matched. He tore through paper after paper, all of the initials the same. From J.F.P.; To R.A.B. and vice versa. Hundreds of letters. He began to read them. Mostly they spoke of quidditch games or incidents that happened at Hogwarts or, surprisingly, muggle literature. He skimmed each letter, trying to find something, anything incriminating about his best friend and little brother being mystery pen pals. One line caught his attention.
Jamie, you must let me read those journals of yours eventually. You’ve kept them for years now and I’ve yet to see a single page. I know you say they are embarrassing, but with the way you act, I truly don’t understand why you think that would phase me. Please.
Multiple things stuck out. Jamie? Journals? Years? Sirius wanted answers, and he knew where to begin looking for them. He reached for the journals that he’d carefully stacked and grabbed one off the top. He flipped to a random page and began to read.
January 23rd, 1977
My Reg planned a picnic today. He is still wary about meetings outside of the Astronomy tower or a broom closet, but I’ve been trying to get him out more. The meetings and letters from his mother are affecting him, though he doesn’t say. I don’t want to force anything out of him. We sat in the grass in the forest near Hogsmeade. His face when I showed him the passage to the Honeydukes cellar was priceless! My Reg, so excited for new things. He brought me a sandwich and carrots. He always remembers the foods I like. I try to remember the things he says as well, I keep lists. It’s hard to focus on what he says, though, when he is so pretty. I don’t know how I got so lucky with him. But I’m scared. The war is becoming a reality now, and I’m scared that he won’t stand up for himself and run away like Sirius did. I don’t want to be on a different side of the war than my Reg. I couldn’t bear it.
Sirius flipped the page. More sappy notes about Regulus, more scribbled drawings in the margins. Unmistakably James’s handwriting. Unmistakably about Regulus. Sirius finished the first book and reached for the second. He skimmed every page. He was unsure if he was angry or sad. But he knew that he felt betrayed. Why didn’t James tell him? Did Regulus like James more than him? Why-
“Sirius? What are you doing?” James.
“James.”
“I-”
“Was he good?”
James froze. Was he good? Regulus, who took the Dark Mark rather than running away. Regulus, who had killed countless muggles in ambushes. Regulus, who had followed Voldemort willingly, though he was eighteen and could’ve left. His Regulus, who peppered kisses on his arms when he was cold. His Regulus, who knitted him a jumper and who scribbled stars on James’s legs and hands and chest when he got bored. Regulus, who had never once said anything against Death Eaters; who had always had a specific interest in the dark arts; who shunned Sirius and publicly denounced him on multiple occasions; who stood behind as Mulciber and his gang beat up muggle-borns. Was he good?
I love you, Jamie.
“I don’t know. But he wasn’t always bad.”
“Okay.” Sirius began putting all of the letters and journals back in their place in the drawer of James’s bedside table.
James woke up at six-thirteen the next morning and made breakfast. Eggs for Sirius and Remus, and for himself, a sandwich and carrots.