Dancing With Your Ghost - Sasha Alex Sloan
Chapter 4. Dancing With Your Ghost - Sasha Alex Sloan
James
“Bella, you know I can’t do that-”
“Well, I don’t care, James. You will have the album ready in two weeks. And it will be brilliant. Mind-blowing.”
“But-”
“We need something good, fast. People are saying you can’t outdo yourself again. Do you want them to be proven right?”
“Well, no, but-”
She put up a hand. “It’s either that or we buy a few songs and tell everyone they’re yours.”
“Bella!”
Bellatrix shut him up with a single look. She looked eerily like Sirius and Regulus when she did that, all sharp edges and shuttered face and frigid eyes. He could swear she was giving off cold air.
“James,” she said quietly, making everyone in the room lean forward a little to hear her. It was a tactic that all the Blacks used, apparently. Maybe they taught them how when they were kids. “You will have the album ready in two weeks, and it will be exceptional, or I will start searching for songs to buy.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“Do you agree?”
“No!”
“Then you’d better start picking.”
How the fuck was he supposed to make an entire album in two weeks? Sure, he had nice songs he could put in it, but nothing exceptional. Nothing they could use for the title. However, he knew Bellatrix wasn’t playing around with her threats. He couldn’t stand to have songs that weren’t theirs be responsible for their careers.
“Do you agree, James?”
To what, James thought bitterly. As if there was a choice.
“Fine,” he muttered.
“Good.” She nodded dismissively and everyone started packing their things. James stood there for a few seconds, trying to remember how to breathe, before marching out.
He’d have to cut his sleep. Again.
James hated his job. Well, a little. Maybe not. But he did at this moment, staring at his messy scrawl screaming his own thoughts at him.
“What the fuck,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Dancing with your ghost, he says. Fuck you, Potter.”
A familiar voice snickered at him from his bedroom door. Remus was standing in the doorframe, smirking. “Going mental, are we James?”
“Fuck off,” he mumbled, the words muffled. He probably was. Four hours of sleep and three espressos for every day for almost two weeks was not exactly the perfect concoction for sanity.
Remus did not fuck off.
“Let’s see that…”
James lunged, trying to snatch the notebook from his friend’s fingers. They ended up sprawled on the floor with James on top, wriggling to reach the notebook. He clawed at Remus’ arm, but he was too tall. They sat up, both breathing heavily.
“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song… well that can’t be too hard, all of them are his…”
“Remus Lupin, I swear to fucking god-”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What.”
“Why aren’t you trying to get him back?”
He sighed, deflating a little. “Because he doesn’t want me back, and even if he did, it would never work out.”
“Are you sure?”
James didn’t want to think about it. Knowing and acknowledging the extent of his crush would make it significantly harder to see the man.
“Yes,” he told Remus, knowing he didn’t believe a word. “I’m sure.”
He stared at James for a few seconds, searching his face for the truth, before giving in and rolling his eyes, dropping his head back.
“You can talk if you want to. Whenever. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mean about just Regulus.”
James knew he wasn’t pressuring him. Remus wasn’t like that. He knew everything before you told him, but didn’t act accordingly until you did.
“Yeah.”
“Play the song for me?”
He nodded. He was quite proud of it, actually. He’d make the melody a week after getting the deadline, and had been sitting on the lyrics for a few days now. The unhealthy work schedule was just that, unhealthy, but making dozens of mediocre songs did help him get through his block. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was enough.
“Let’s call the others while we’re at it. It’s going to be our new title, probably.”
“That’s fucking brilliant James, it’s going to top the charts.”
He laughed, ignoring the nagging anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “We’re going to top the charts,” he said, winking exaggeratedly. Sirius pretended to swoon.
“I’m going to kill Lestrange,” Dorcas chimed in, playing the melody absently with Peter’s keyboard. She’d done seven years of piano and a whole range of classical instruments before moving on to the bass, meaning she was better at every instrument than they were.
“Yeah, well. She takes orders from Dumbledore, doesn’t she?” Sirius said with his eyes on the floor, oddly defensive. James frowned. Was there something he didn’t know?
“I guess.” Peter mused, wrestling Dorcas from his seat. They all looked to Lily for answers.
“She does,” she told them, rolling her neck with a loud cracking sound. “You should kill him, not her. Now, I’m going to go schedule some meetings for the album. I'd appreciate it if you guys didn’t burn the house down.”
Remus snorted in the corner. “You ask for too much.”
Lily flipped them off as she went, her laughter echoing as she opened the door.
James played the opening on the grand piano, a treasure that was probably worth half of Sirius’s mother’s fortune and was greatly adored by all of them. Peter had ordered it online after snorting copious amounts of coke one night. He still insisted he’d gotten into debt for it.
He was not thinking about how Regulus would absolutely adore it, more than any of them could ever. How his fingers would fly across the keys, his posture elegant and his face full of all the things he never said aloud.
No. He was not.
Until Dorcas came in with the lyrics (at the exact timing, mind you, because she was a fucking genius who could memorize songs after listening to it two times), and then he was most definitely thinking about that.
“What if, what if we’re hard to find
What if we let them fall behind
And they’re never found-”
“Wait, that’s not right.” The soft music stopped abruptly, accompanied by a small scowl.
“That was perfect!”
“No it wasn’t. It was the wrong note.” Regulus turned his face towards him, still irritated. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear that. It was awful.”
“It was not. Nothing you do is ever awful.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered, replacing his hands on the keys, but James could see the tips of his ears flushing. He smiled to himself.
“So, who’d you write that song about?”
Regulus was definitely blushing now. “No one you know.”
He sat next to him on the cushioned bench, making a show of carefully laying the violin case on the floor before Regulus could scold him for moving it roughly like an ‘uncivilized brute’.
“I’m sure I know them. Tell me?”
He hovered his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders, waiting until he leaned into the touch to settle them snugly, his hands dangling in front of Regulus’s chest. They stayed like that, comfortable in warm silence.
“He’s annoying,” he said after a while, tucking his face into the crook of James’ neck. He hummed in amusement. “He’s an uncivilized brute. He handles my instruments like they’re cheap pieces of plastic. He climbs through my windows in the middle of the night and doesn’t scold me when I smoke, even though he hates the smell. He likes it when I bite him.”
He could feel Regulus smile against his skin before he lifted his head to look at him, his expression unsure.
Beautiful. Bright.
“He tells me he loves me.” His breath hitched. James started to shake his head, not wanting to make him say anything he wasn’t ready for, but the younger boy put a firm finger on his lips.
“He tells me he loves me,” he continued, meeting James’ eyes with his bright gray determination. “And I can’t tell him yet, but I want him to know that I do too.”
James felt tears sting at his eyes. Regulus tugged him closer, leaning sideways onto his body. He bent his head down to bury it in wavy black hair. They sat like that, watching the sun set slowly, content to be in each other’s orbits.
A week later, James left and took Sirius with him.
“James?”
“Mate, did you make that up on the spot?”
James broke out of his memories, his eyes burning a little, and realized he wasn’t playing his song anymore. He was playing Regulus’.
A truth so loud you can’t ignore…
“No,” he said finally. “It’s not mine.”
Regulus
“What the fuck,” Marlene whispered, leaning into her laptop and shoving her glasses rather forcefully up her nose. “I’m going mad. Absolutely mental. I need a psychiatrist.”
Regulus glanced at her. It was an unusually large reaction coming from her. “What, Marls?”
“The fuck,” she said again, a bit louder this time.
“What!” Evan yelled at her, annoyed. “Did Regulus’s mom finally disown him?”
“Regulus got an invitation to be in a music video.”
He frowned. That wasn’t earth-shattering news. Sure, it was a bit rare, but it wouldn't be the first time. “That’d be great for publicity,” he said, thinking about the upcoming season. His contract renewal would be in the bag if he did it. Maybe he’d get a raise if it went well.
“From the Marauders.”
“What the fuck?” He practically screamed, his voice high-pitched and breaking halfway. “No!”
“They’re offering to give you half of the music video’s makings if you do it. Also, they want to know if you want to sing, if you do then a fifth of the album’s copyright fee is yours. They say that they can ‘make anything presentable’- that means they’ll autotune the shit out of whatever you sing-”
“No! Fuck off! No!”
“Regulus, think about it-”
“No! I’m not seeing my brother just to get some measly slice of their money!”
“You can ask not to do any scenes with him-”
“No!”
“This is a lot of money, babe. And it would probably get you a shitload of awards with all the publicity, you said it yourself.”
“Fuck off, Marlene. I’m not doing it.”
He paused. She was right, to his dismay, but what was his brother fucking thinking? That Regulus would crawl right back to him just because he called? And even ignoring how Sirius was being a dumb fuck, what was James doing? Anger and betrayal burned in his stomach. James knew how much he would hate having to sing. Not that he was going to do it, but…
“Wait. I’m gonna make a call.”
He walked out, violently punching icons on his phone.
He picked up immediately. “Uh, yeah? Regulus?”
“James Fleamont Potter, if you think I don’t have enough money to turn down your offer and still be richer than you and my brother combined, you can go and fucking-”
“What?” He had the fucking audacity to sound confused. Regulus decided to set his house on fire and call it a gas leak. Maybe he'd cut his throat too.
“Oh, you’re confused, are you? You dumb fuck-”
“Regulus, I get that you’re angry, but, um, explain why I’m being yelled at before you continue? And, uh, what offer?” James’ voice was weak.
“Why? Why?” he snorted. “Because you sent me an offer to sing in some stupid, undoubtedly horrible, tasteless, shitty song that you’ve apparently written, in exchange for some pitiful cut of your earnings, that’s why. And I’m telling you, Potter, pull something like this again and I will personally-”
“What?”
“What!” Regulus yelled back, aware that his voice was ringing through the corridor, and that his friends had gone completely silent in the room. They were probably pressing their ears against the door, the little pieces of shits.
“I didn’t- I would- I would never do that!”
“Yeah? Then why did my manager get an email from your company, stating all the ways they could autotune my voice into something presentable? Was that a personal fuck-you, James?” His voice cracked.
He would never admit it, and it was irrational, since no one knew he did anything even close to music, but his pride was scratched. Maybe a little badly.
“No! Regulus-”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Hey-”
“No.”
“Regulus, listen to me!”
His mouth shut of its own accord. He hated it.
“I didn’t send that. I never consented to that. I’m guessing Bella sent it by herself, I’ll call her right now. I would never do that to you, I know what music means to you.”
What?
“You didn’t… have any part in that?”
“No.”
“And my brother?”
“None of us did. Sirius would never do that either.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered, his heartbeat finally slowing down. He felt so foolish.
“Regulus-”
He hung up.