Change the Prophecy

One year ago, August the 31st 1976

The Potters, unlike most old pureblood families, only have one estate, a charming manor house located deep in the English countryside. When most of the old, established families began to buy townhouses in the big cities, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter decided not to follow them. It wasn’t a case of money, the Potters were wealthy, abundantly so, but they had no interest in flaunting it. They’d turned this house into a home and had no need for another one.

Regulus secretly loves the Potter estate. It’s his favourite out of all of the wizarding houses he’s visited. The manor house is made of dark red brick, the exterior walls covered in climbing vines and seasonal flowers. Although the fragrant smell of the colourful blooms hangs heavy in the air, it’s the smell of cooking that wafts from the open windows that Regulus most associates with the Potter household.

Gravel crunches under Regulus’ feet as he makes his way to the front door. He’s just raising his hand to rap the golden lion head knocker when Effie opens the door, she must have heard him coming. She’s wearing a flour stained apron with her long hair in an untidy bun atop her head. It’s a familiar sight, one that Regulus has grown accustomed to over the years.

“Hi, Effie.”

“Regulus.” She says warmly, she’s pleased to see him, it’s written all over her face. She lifts a hand to touch his arm but then seems to think better of it, realising that there’s remnants of dough covering her hands.

Regulus reaches out anyway, catching her hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. He owes her, in this lifetime and the next, for what she’s done for Sirius, for bringing James into this world.

Effie smiles at him affectionately, squeezing his hand back. She ushers Regulus in. “Come in, sweetheart. James is just in the shower, he’ll be down soon.”

Regulus’ stomach dips in anticipation. James has been on his mind a lot recently. More than he probably should be. Their friendship is difficult to define and recently, the lines have become blurred. Their connection to Sirius was what brought them together but now the bond they share is something else entirely, something that’s just theirs.

It’s been a few weeks since they started spending time together, just the two of them but they’ve been some of the best weeks of Regulus’ life. James can be brash and annoying but in the little moments, when it’s just the two of them, he’s also charming and compassionate and inherently good.

Regulus likes him. He can’t help it. He’s like a moth to a flame, drawn to James.

He’s always pretended to be annoyed by James’ presence, most of the time he actually is, but there’s something about James Potter that captivates Regulus and he thinks that there’s something in him that James wants too.

It feels inevitable, this, them.

The smell of bread fills the entryway, only gets stronger when they reach the kitchen. There’s a rolling pin hazardously hanging half off the edge of the counter and there’s bowls and cutlery everywhere, a plate of freshly baked blueberry muffins on a plate by the window. This is also why Regulus loves it here, it feels lived in, like a real home.

Effie offers him a seat and a damp cloth for his hands, before immediately beginning to bustle around the cluttered kitchen. She grabs two of the muffins and puts them on their own plates before gathering everything she needs to brew a pot of coffee.

Regulus initially does not take the proffered chair and instead tries to give her a hand but she only laughs, grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him to his seat before taking her own.

“Are those muffins I can smell? Merlin, they smell unreal.” There’s the sound of socked feet padding down the hallway and then Sirius is peering round the door. His smile falters at the sight of Regulus, sat opposite Effie at the kitchen table.

It’s only been a handful of weeks since they last lived under the same roof but it feels like a lifetime.

Regulus can’t recall a time where he’s ever heard Sirius sound so carefree. He sounds happy. Genuinely happy.

Regulus sends Effie a sideways glance, a quick flick of the eyes. Thank you he thinks, willing her to understand, thank you for taking him in, thank you for letting him be part of this family. Effie seems to decipher everything that Regulus is trying to say because her eyes soften and her mouth quirks up ever so slightly in response.

“Reg.” Sirius says warily and just like that his guard is back up. Regulus knows that any minute now he’ll turn around and leave, internally curses because that’s the last thing he wants. One more year and he’ll be able to leave that house, only one more year and he’ll be able to have his brother back.

“Sirius.” Regulus’ voice is hoarse. The atmosphere in the kitchen is awkward, stilted. He grapples desperately, trying to find something to say, trying to keep Sirius there a little longer.

Is that a moon pendant you’re wearing round your neck?

That leather jacket suits you so much better than those stuffy old suits and robes our parents forced you to wear.

Please don’t go yet.

I’ve missed you.

I miss you.

Instead what comes out is- “I like your hair, you’ve grown it out.”

There’s the ghost of disappointment on Sirius’ face, for a fleeting moment, like he was waiting to hear something else from his brother instead. Sorry Sirius, Regulus thinks, you know you’ve always been the braver one out of us two.

“And you’ve cut yours.”

“Dorcas did it for me.” It’s a calculated response, Regulus could have just said ‘thanks’ and that would’ve been the end of that but Dorcas is a safe topic, Sirius loves Dorcas.

Sirius blows out a breath. “Dorcas did a good job.” Regulus knows he’s losing him, can tell by the way Sirius has imperceptibly shifted away from the door. He ruefully accepts that for the foreseeable, this is all there will be between them, things they’re too afraid to say out loud and a relationship that they no longer know how to navigate.

But Sirius is not a coward and so he turns at the last minute, like he can’t bear for that to be the last thing they say to one another. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ll go and get James.”

Despite Sirius’ body language, his clear desire to leave, he hovers for a moment, waiting for a response.

“I’ll keep coming, as long as you’ll have me.” Regulus says, although the words are meant for Effie, he smiles at Sirius, small and tentative.

“Thank you, Sirius.” Effie says gently as Sirius disappears down the corridor, a thousand emotions at war with one another on his face.

“There will always be a place for you here, Regulus.” Effie says and her gaze is sincere. Regulus knows that she means that, that she’ll always make sure there’s a place here for him, if he wants it.

The atmosphere is softer in the kitchen after that and Regulus lets his guard slip, just for today. He laughs when Effie tells him a story about James as a child, openly and unabashedly. When Monty comes in from his workshop and ruffles Regulus’ hair, Regulus allows it, leans into it.

He understands why Sirius wants to be here, it’s the reason he comes back week after week, so that he can get a glimpse of what it’s like to be part of a normal, healthy family.

Monty smiles at him, clearly pleased, as he pushes his glasses up. It’s such a familiar gesture, reminds Regulus so much of James that his chest aches. He’s quick to disappear, but not before stealing a muffin, laughing as Effie whacks him with a tea towel. Regulus watches them and lets the ghost of a smile tug at his lips. How deeply they care for one another, how safe and secure they are in their love. He could only dream of a love like theirs.

James breezes in shortly after, a sight for sore eyes. His hair is wet, curling round his neck and his ears from the humidity. He’s wearing one of his quidditch tops, the words Potter emblazoned on the back in gold.

He gestures for Regulus to follow him as he grabs a muffin, presses a kiss to his mum’s cheek and heads towards the back door, so like his father in his mannerisms. “Thanks mum, I’ll be stealing him now!”

Regulus watches him go, hopelessly fond. He feels Effie’s eyes on him and tilts his head to meet her gaze. She’s smiling, a secretive, satisfied smile. When Regulus sends her a puzzled look, she just taps the side of her nose and winks.

“It was nice to see you, Effie.” Regulus says as he stands up, gathering their plates and empty mugs to take them over to the sink.

She moves towards him, her face softening. She cups his cheeks between her hands, rubs them lovingly with her thumbs. “You too, sweetheart, you too. Remember what I said.”

Just for a second, Regulus leans in to the contact, lets himself feel the all consuming comfort of a mother’s love.

When he carefully pulls away, there’s hope shining bright in Effie’s eyes. He thinks there may be hope mirrored in his too.

James has already disappeared by the time Regulus leaves the kitchen. He finds him sat against a tree, deftly splitting his muffin in two with his fingers.

“You look cute with your hair wet.” Regulus comments, coming to sit beside him, there’s a slither of space between them. Regulus tries his hardest not to cross it.

“Oh come on, you could’ve said sexy.” James grins, trying to hand Regulus one half of his muffin. Regulus shakes his head in response to which James shrugs, stuffing the entirety of it in his mouth. After a large swallow, James speaks. “Go on, tell me I look sexy.”

“James, you look so sexy.” Regulus deadpans but James laughs, delighted that he’s playing along.

“Regulus Black thinks I’m sexy. Fuck, I think all of my dreams just came true at once.”

It’s a miracle that Regulus doesn’t roll his eyes. “I can’t believe I come to see you willingly.”

James rests his chin on the palm of his hand, smiles at Regulus. “You love it really.”

“I do love it here.” Regulus says softly, taking in the entirety of the garden. The rosarium that Effie grew entirely by hand, no magic involved. The wooden furniture set that Monty built for Effie’s birthday last year, charmed to stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. James’ quidditch posts, an eyesore in the beautiful garden but a homely one. Sirius’ beater bat, leaning hazardously against one of the posts, a reminder that he’s here, that this is his home. “The gardens in Grimmauld place are cold, they lack character, this…it feels like home.”

When Regulus turns to face him, James’ face is incredibly soft. He lifts a hand to cup Regulus’ chin, leans in, eyes wide and full of wonder.

And then James Potter kisses him. Gentle at first, a sweet press of the lips but then he’s sliding his hand from Regulus’ chin to his hair, fingers burying into his curls and kissing him properly, with everything he has.

When James pulls away, his face is stricken. “Shit. Regulus, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.“ He makes a move to pull away, fingers attempting to untangle themselves from where they’re caught in dark curls but Regulus reaches out a hand to stop him. James stills under his touch, watches as Regulus slides his hand over James’, holds it there.

“Do it again.” The words are out of Regulus’ mouth before he has a chance to think about them, he sounds breathless, desperate.

So James does.

It’s the start of them.

It’s the beginning of everything.

—

Present day, Autumn term 1977

Regulus sits and waits for the inevitable sound of a knock at the door. He wonders whether it will sound like knuckles against wood or the resounding clatter of the gallows trapdoor beneath him swinging open.

Telling Pandora and Dorcas is going to be harder than he anticipated. It almost feels like walking into court, when you know you’re going to hear a guilty verdict.

It’s quiet in their room, a combination of nerves and anticipation, Regulus thinks. He lets his gaze drop to Barty and Evan, who are sat on the rug playing cards, whispering fervently to one another.

After his conversation with Dorcas in the Great Hall, Regulus understands what she was trying to tell him, about Barty. He’s volatile, struggling to tolerate anyone’s presence at the minute, even Evan’s and that worries Regulus. He’d tried to talk to him about it but Barty was quick to shrug it off, more interested in chasing the next distraction than discussing his feelings.

Evan on the other hand, is the antithesis to Barty. He’s calm and collected, taken to his role with an ease that surprises Regulus. It’s almost like having a concrete plan has given him meaning and direction.

They all turn at the sound of a rap at the door.

Regulus is the first to move. He opens the door, revealing Pandora and Dorcas. The latter is twisting the silver snake pendant round her neck, something Dorcas does to bring her comfort or ease her anxiety. It’s identical to the ring that the boys share, identical to the bracelet that circles Pandora’s wrist.

They’d gotten them last year, an ode to their house, Slytherin and to their home, Hogwarts. Something to tie them all together when the time came for them to go their separate ways. Regulus tries not to think about how the events of this next hour could rip away the attachment they feel for one another before they even have a chance to leave Hogwarts.

They follow him in, know to keep quiet until the door is shut. The minute the lock clicks in place, Dorcas speaks, her voice wavering. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, come sit with us.” Evan is still sat on the floor, beside Barty, the cards lay forgotten between them, scattered on the rug. He holds out a hand and his voice is gentle.

Regulus joins them, settles back into the armchair and waits.

At the sound of her brother’s voice, Pandora moves to sit on the sofa, in the spot closest to Regulus, her gaze watchful. Dorcas hesitates but follows her. The two sit with their thighs pressed together and hands clasped between them.

“I’m going to explain everything, I promise. But before I do, I want you to know that I’m sorry and what I’m about to show you doesn’t mean what you think it does. Be patient with me please, you both have an important decision to make and I want you to have all the information you’ll need to make an informed one.”

Dorcas nods, an abrupt, shaky motion. Pandora beside her freezes, her eyes dropping to his covered arm. When she lifts her gaze, her eyes are full of betrayal. She knows. Of course she does.

Regulus slowly lifts the sleeve of his robes, revealing black ink and dark magic, gauging their faces as he does so. The colour drains from Dorcas’ face, she rears back in her seat, letting go of Pandora’s hand to bring both of hers to cover her mouth.

That he was prepared for.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Pandora to surge forward and grab his wrist with an iron grip. Her fingers are only inches away from the dark mark when her face goes blank but her eyes are wide and terrified, caught in the throes of a vision.

Evan is up and at her side in an instant, gripping her shoulder to ground her. This seems to jolt Dorcas out of her shock and into action because she begins stroking her hair, murmuring soft reassurances in her ear.

Sometimes Pandora talks through her visions, can describe the scene and point out things of importance but sometimes Pandora’s visions are like this, silent and frightening.

Regulus kneels before her, grabs a spare piece of parchment and a quill off of the table, careful not to dislodge her grip on his arm. It’s important that she stays in contact with whatever sparked the vision and sees it through until the end. They’d pulled her out of one early before and missed out on key information, it’s not a mistake Regulus will make again.

He gently unclenches her fingers and places the quill in her hand. Instantly she starts drawing without looking at the paper, her eyes still cast forward, unseeing. Harsh, dark lines form on the page and Regulus watches as they transform into a scene of a field, ordinary, startlingly so but for some reason it has the hairs raising on Regulus’ arm.

As quickly as it started, it stops. Pandora slumps forward, dropping the quill and letting go of Regulus’ wrist. Barty shifts forward from where he was sitting on his haunches to catch her. He pulls her against him, wipes the sweaty hair off her brow and lets her catch her breath against his shoulder.

Regulus gently extracts the parchment from her lap and places it on the floor between them. The five of them lean forward, their eyes fixed on the unassuming drawing in front of them.

“What could you feel, Pandora? Whilst you were in the vision?” Evan asks gently, his brow furrowing as he tilts his head trying to find something notable about the drawing.

“Death.” Pandora says, she sounds worn down, stripped bare. “That field was tarnished by death.” She turns to look at Regulus. “By getting that mark, you’ve set a chain of events into action.”

“Is it Regulus?” Evan asks, voice strained. “Who dies? If seeing the mark set it into motion, it must be something to do with him.”

Four pairs of eyes fix upon Regulus. He doesn’t pay them any mind, he knows that he might not come out of this alive, the thought doesn’t bother him, nor does the potential confirmation of a vision.

Pandora shakes her head, she’s still leaning against Barty, not strong enough to sit on her own just yet. “Not necessarily. It could be Regulus or it could be someone else entirely. But whoever’s death it is, it’s important. It changes things, shifts the tide of the war.”

“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?” Dorcas asks, leaning forward to grip her hand.

Pandora takes it, holds it gratefully. “It’s both.” She says frowning, confused. She doesn’t understand what she sees anymore than they do, sometimes it can take weeks to interpret a vision and sometimes they never figure it out.

“Does anyone recognise this field?” Barty interjects, his traces the ink with a lone finger, tapping the centre of it.

None of them do, they pass the picture between them just in case, take a moment to absorb every detail but its location remains a mystery.

When it’s Regulus’ turn to hold the drawing he frowns. There’s no blood, no body. Whatever Pandora had sensed there, had already happened by the time she saw that field but he understands what she means. Looking at it unsettles him, holding it makes his stomach clench.

Regulus puts the drawing on the table and helps Pandora stand so that she can sit back on the sofa. Evan situates himself on the arm closest to her whilst Barty stays on the floor, staring off into the distance absentmindedly.

“I think you owe us an explanation.” Dorcas says quietly.

And so Regulus tells them. He spares no detail, delves into every intricate aspect of the plan, tells them of James’ involvement and then he gives them a choice.

“I’m telling you all of this because you deserve to know and because I want to give you a choice.” He looks at Pandora, whose eyes are fierce, determined. Regulus knows what her answer will be. He turns to Dorcas and she meets his gaze, her eyes glassy. He knows what her answer will be too.

“You can be part of this or you can walk away. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll accept it and won’t judge you for it. But I want you to know that I’m sorry, for putting you in this position, for bringing you into this. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I’m in.” Pandora seems to sense that Evan is going to intervene because she spins to face him, her expression heated. “No, Evan. You need me. Tonight has proved that, don’t you think?” She turns to Regulus, to Barty, daring one of them to challenge her.

Barty says nothing, so Regulus does. “It’s your choice, Pandora, but let me propose something first.” She doesn’t looked pleased but motions for him to continue. “We do need you, you’re right but do you know who would also want to use you?”

“The Dark Lord.” Barty says, resigned. It had been something the three of them had discussed the first night Regulus had told them about the mark on his forearm.

“We don’t know when you’ll have a vision or in front of who. Could you imagine that power falling into his hands?”

Pandora sighs, defeated. “So what are you suggesting?”

“Publicly side with us this year but when the time comes for the four of us to move into Grimmauld place, stay with your family, at their estate so we’ll still be able to meet with you. Help the Order however you can but be discreet about it.”

Pandora idly twists a lock of her hair round her finger as she takes a moment to think. Eventually, she nods, “Okay.” She rolls her eyes but the gesture itself is affectionate. “I hate it when you talk sense.”

With that matter resolved, Regulus casts his eyes on the one person in the room who he’s certain he’s about to lose, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Dorcas?” Regulus asks quietly.

She sits, head down, hands clasped in her lap. She lifts her head, her gaze flicking to Barty. The two of them stare at one another for a moment before Dorcas nods, more to herself than anyone else.

“This is such a shit position to be in. I don’t want to lose any of you.”

Evan leans round Pandora to squeeze Dorcas’ shoulder. She leans into the contact. Takes a deep breath in.

“I’m going to stay with Marlene. Stir up drama to make the divide between us more believable. If I’m with the Gryffindors, I’ll be able to help keep James’ place here secure too.”

Barty’s smile is small but pleased. He stands, pulling Dorcas into his arms and kisses her cheek. “The right choice is never the easy one.”

She laughs but it’s short lived, the noise breaking off into a sob. “That explains why it hurts so much.”

Regulus motions for Barty to take a step back so he can gather Dorcas in his arms. He presses a kiss to her forehead and listens to the quiet sound of her tears. “Please don’t die.” She murmurs, holding onto him like a lifeline.

He laughs, hugs her tighter. “I’ll try not to, no promises though.”

Dorcas buries her face into the crook of his neck. “I love you, Reg.”

The laughter dies on Regulus’ face. His next words come out choked. “I love you too. Always.”

She pulls away, the mascara and eyeliner around her eyes is smudged. “After all of that, I think I need a drink.”

“Hear, hear.” Barty says, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “I’ve got just the thing for us.” He steers her towards his trunk and the pair of them emerge triumphant with a bottle of vodka, making plans to go to their usual spot.

The minute the bottle appears in Barty’s hand, Pandora is quick to follow them. “Count me in. That vision ruined my entire day.”

Evan laughs. “More than the tattoo on Regulus’ arm?”

Pandora smiles, a soft one reserved just for Regulus. It’s a look that reassures him that they’re okay, that their friendship will survive this. “That’s a close second.”

She turns to leave but hesitates by the door. “Are you two coming?”

Regulus shakes his head, they need this, a chance to unwind and forget what just happened, what’s going to happen. They don’t need him there, he’s a constant reminder of what they’re about to endure. Pandora turns to Evan who hesitates and holds up a finger, as if to say give me a minute.

“I’ll be out in a bit. Under the quidditch stands right?”

She nods, turning on her heel to follow Barty and Dorcas out. The pair of them watch her go.

When Evan speaks, his voice is quiet but determined. “We won’t let anything happen to you, Regulus. You know that, right?”

Regulus quirks an eyebrow at Evan in surprise, motions for him to carry on.

“Pandora’s vision. It’s not concrete and although you getting that mark might have set you on that course, it doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. Barty and I will do everything we can to stop it from ever happening. James too.”

Regulus softens. He leans forward and lays a firm but gentle hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I know, Ev. I’ve got your back too, I hope you know that.”

Evan grins as he reaches up to lay his hand on top of Regulus’. “I know.”

“Go join the others, have some fun. It might be the last chance we get for a while.”

Evan turns to the closed door and hesitates. “We’re the lucky ones, all things considered.” He says sombrely, all the previous joy wiped clean from his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Pandora’s gift. I can’t imagine what it’s like, knowing that the people you love could be in danger and most of the time, you’re helpless to stop it.”

The silence stretches between them for a moment, eventually Regulus bridges it. “Do you think it’s better to be ignorant?”

He watches Evan’s face carefully, makes note of the way he smiles. “Well I guess when my time comes, I’d rather not know.”

Regulus can’t help but think of Pandora’s vision, how he’ll know the minute he steps foot in that field that his time is up. “Yeah.” Regulus says, finally. “Maybe it is more of a burden than a gift.”

He watches Evan leave, and what Regulus doesn’t say, is that he knows what it’s like to have a gift that’s a burden.

When Walburga Black had found out she was expecting twins, she’d been overjoyed. Regulus’ parents were certain that their pure Black blood would result in powerful children, their magic enhanced by the duality of their birth.

They were right. Sirius was powerful.

From a young age, Sirius’ magic reared its head whenever he felt a particularly big emotion. A child’s tantrum would result in a destroyed room. A fit of tears would result in a flood of magic, too much magic for such a small body.

Not only was he the first born son but his power was the first to present itself. It made perfect sense that Sirius would be made the heir because Walburga and Orion had thought that Regulus had been skipped over.

They were wrong about that.

Regulus was seven when he realised he could talk to snakes.

It had startled him, when Bellatrix had handed him a little grass snake she’d found in the garden and no one had heard her demanding to be put back where she came from but him.

Regulus was careful not to react to the snake, thanking Bellatrix as he took her. He’d taken her straight out to the garden and smiled as he released her. “There you go little one, enjoy your freedom.”

The snake had turned to him, a seemingly affronted look on its face. Regulus didn’t know snakes were even capable of making that expression. “Little one? Coming from you!” She’d made it halfway through the grass before she’d turned back to him. “Thank you. For setting me free.”

Regulus’ smile had grown wider on his face. “I don’t think you’d have made a very good pet anyway. I think you’d be quite the nag.”

She’d harrumphed but it had sounded amused.

He didn’t tell anyone about the interaction in the garden, even though he’d found it incredibly exciting. Regulus had waited until that evening to barge into Sirius’ room and flop on his bed beside him. Regulus knew what people thought of Parselmouths but the only person’s opinion that mattered to him was his brother’s.

“How cool would it have been if we could’ve talked to that snake Bellatrix found?”

Sirius pulled a face. “I don’t know. Nothing good ever came from being a Parselmouth.”

Regulus’ heart thudded in his chest. “I think it’s more about the person than the gift.”

Sirius scrunched his nose and turned back to the magazine he was flicking through. “I think they’re all evil, Reg.”

Regulus felt his stomach tie itself into knots. Evil? If telling Sirius meant that his brother thought he was evil, he vowed never to let Sirius find out.

“Hey, why’d you bring that up anyway?”

Regulus stared up at the ceiling, was he evil? “No reason.”

As the ability was considered to be inherently dark, Regulus had no interest in his parents finding out about it. No interest in taking Sirius’ title off of him. Not that it mattered much, he’d ended up with it anyway.

No one knew to this day, not even Evan or Barty.

Regulus stands in his empty dorm room and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t want to be alone. The room is unwelcoming, the candles around him burning low and the fire guttering in the grate. It’s like his friends took all the life and light with them when they left.

And so he decides to find some of that life, some of that light somewhere else, with someone else. Regulus heads to the astronomy tower and knows that if James has the map, he’ll find him soon.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Regulus is staring up at the sky, watching the way the last of the violet bleeds into a royal indigo, when he hears footsteps on the stairs. Regulus smiles to himself at the sound of the familiar tread.

“How did it go?” James asks as he hugs him from behind. He wraps his arms round Regulus, hold him tightly and presses a kiss to his temple. Regulus savours the contact.

“As expected. Dorcas will be safe with the Gryffindors, Pandora will be staying with us.”

James presses another kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, lifts a hand to loosen Regulus’ collar, so he can leave a particularly insistent kiss there. “They’ll look after her and we’ll look after Pandora.” He murmurs. “And we’ll all look after each other.”

“Mm.” Regulus says noncommittally, more focused on the way James’ breath fans against his neck. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Soon there’ll be no turning back.”

In answer, James grabs Regulus by the hip, turns him round so they’re facing one another, still in each other’s space, still in one another’s orbit. He smiles. “I’m ready. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Are you sure? Not having any doubts?” Regulus asks, leaning forward, closing the distance between them.

James pushes Regulus against the bannister, braces one arm against it to hold them upright and threads the other in Regulus’ hair. “Yeah, I’m sure. Never been more certain about something before.” His eyes soften. “About someone.”

Regulus surges forward. He pulls James in with a cupped hand to the back of his neck and wraps the other arm round his waist, leaving no room between the two of them.

James cups his head and kisses him, wild and with reckless abandon.

Regulus kisses him back, puts all his heart and soul into it, the good and the bad, everything that makes him, him.

The kiss is messy, a little bit all over the place, just like them.

“Fucking hell, go on you two!” They break apart at the sound of Barty’s voice, James leaning around Regulus to peer down at the courtyard down below.

Regulus follows suit, twisting in his arms to get a better look at his friends.

Barty stands there, grinning up at them, one arm around Dorcas and the other around Evan. Pandora beams at them from the circle of Dorcas’ arms. They must have been cutting through the courtyard on their way back from the Quidditch pitch when Barty had spotted them.

Barty’s grin widens when they peer down at him. He raises his voice, even louder. “Is that the head boy I can see? Out and about at this time of night!”

James grins against Regulus’ neck, laughs in his ear.

“He’s making an awful lot of noise for someone who doesn’t have an invisibility cloak. We can make a run for it but they have about thirty seconds before someone comes to investigate the source of all that noise.”

“That’s Barty for you. Always living life on the edge. You get used to it and eventually you get used to him.”

“I think I’m already starting to.”

Regulus, in this moment, is happy. He looks down at his four friends below, feels the way that James is pressed to his side and thinks about the small moments, like this one. The ones that you have no influence over, no control, the ones that happen spontaneously and are all the more beautiful for it.

He wishes he could capture this moment and live in it forever.

—

Things are changing and Evan adapts.

He feels relatively at peace, with everything that’s going on. It had been difficult at first, when they hadn’t had a plan but now Evan feels settled, he almost feels ready. Evan has a part to play and he’ll make sure it’s a success. He won’t let anything jeopardise this.

Pandora’s vision the other night had solidified that for him.

Death hadn’t really been on the forefront of his mind up until that point. Of course Evan knew that it was a possibility, that one of them, perhaps all of them, wouldn’t make it. The fear, however, that he’d felt in his gut, at the thought of losing Regulus, it had given him a drive, a purpose he didn’t know he had in him.

He’d told Regulus that he’d do everything in his power to stop those events from unfolding and he meant that.

The changing circumstances have been hard on his friends. Dorcas has hardly left her room since seeing Regulus’ arm. Barty has been strange, distant. Pandora has thrown herself into finding that field, so that they can avoid it at all costs.

Regulus, unsurprisingly seems to be unperturbed by everything, he puts up a good front. Evan knows that’s not true though. He can tell by the tension in Regulus’ shoulders, the way he automatically seeks out Sirius at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, for comfort or as a reminder to do what must be done, Evan isn’t sure.

Evan is just leaving the Great Hall when he spots Barty across the corridor. He hadn’t come to breakfast, Evan’s not sure where he’s been as Barty was already gone when he’d woken up.

“Hey, Crouch.” Evan says, jogging to catch up with him. “You busy?”

Barty lifts his head, he looks tired. The skin under his eyes is dark, his face sallow. “Why are you asking?” It’s short, sharper than usual but Evan doesn’t take offence. Barty may come across as carefree but he worries, a lot. Not about things like grades or his reputation but about his friends, his family. Evan understands, Pandora’s vision is heavy on his mind too.

“Do you want to spar?”

That catches Barty’s attention.

They’d jokingly discussed it the other night over a bottle of vodka. It had become a bit of a tradition for them, lying on the grass of the quidditch pitch and sharing a bottle of something strong between the four of them. Regulus used to join them but now he’s more likely to be found tucked away somewhere private and hidden with James.

Despite the joking nature of their discussion, Evan thinks it’s a good idea. They’ll be living under the same roof as a group of dangerous individuals soon, put into situations that could mean life or death, it’s smart to be prepared.

Barty’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You were being serious about that?”

“Course, I want to be prepared.” He scans Barty’s face. “Don’t you?”

Barty shrugs and leans back against the wall. He runs a hand through his already dishevelled hair and Evan tracks the movement greedily. “It’s not a bad idea. In less than a year, we’ll be soldiers in this war.”

Evan smiles, huffs out a laugh. “We already are.”

“I don’t think I am. Don’t know if I ever will be.” Barty says, his brow furrowing in frustration.

Evan assesses him, drinks the sight of him in. “No, you’re right. You’re something else entirely.”

Barty sends him a questioning look but Evan turns away, starts to head towards the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go find an old disused room somewhere.”

They make it all the way to the seventh floor, most of the rooms they’d examined hadn’t been suitable, too cramped or full of junk that would take too long to organise and rearrange.

Evan is just about to give up, suggest that Barty uses his Saturday to catch up on some sleep instead when Barty grabs his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“Ev, look at that.” Barty says, his voice full of wonder.

In front of them is a door, consisting of varnished brown wood and an antique bronze handle, unremarkable really, apart from the fact that it hadn’t been there a minute ago.

They share a look, full of curiousity and excitement, before they both push the door open at the same time.

The room is huge. On one side is a beautiful stained glass window stretching from the ceiling to the floor, casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the surrounding walls every time the light catches it. Beneath it lies several plush sofas, arranged to face one another with decorative rugs placed in the middle.

The opposite side of the room lacks such extravagant furnishings, instead focusing more on utilising its space. Practise dummies stand in an orderly line against the wall whilst sparring mats litter the floor. Affixed to the wall are an array of practise knives, daggers, swords and weapons that Evan has never seen before, couldn’t even begin to name.

“What is this place?” Evan asks, spinning on his heel to take it all in.

Barty joins him in the centre of the room and grins. The tiredness on his face is gone, replaced by unbridled joy.

“Evan, I think we just found the Room of Requirement.”

“The what now?”

“I didn’t think it was actually real. Regulus and I were obsessed with finding it in our third year. It’s a room that only appears to those in need.” Barty shakes his head in disbelief. “Clearly we never really needed it until now.”

Evan walks towards the sparring area, touches everything with a reverent hand. “It’s like Hogwarts approves, of what we’re doing, of what we’re trying to achieve.”

He turns to look at Barty, who is still standing in the middle of the room, finds that Barty is already looking at him. There’s something gentle in his gaze, something vulnerable.

Evan wants more from him, for them. He doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Yeah.” Barty says finally, letting the moment pass them by, neither of them brave enough to acknowledge it. “Well, let’s make the most of it then.”

They discuss what weapon to use, what rules to establish before they begin. Evan wants to use a dagger, thinks it’s the most practical weapon to keep on them at all times. Barty agrees but argues that they should also be able to use magic because it’s unlikely that in a physical altercation, their opponent will fight fair.

And so they begin.

They’re evenly matched, the pair of them. It makes for an interesting fight.

Every time one of them inches close to victory, the other will retaliate with a move that puts them on a level playing field once again.

That is, until Evan physically overpowers Barty. He finally manages to pin him down, their faces inches apart, both breathing heavy.

He watches the way Barty swallows and tips his head back in defeat. Evan leans forward, eyes drawn to the slick sweat on Barty’s brow, the way his lips part.

And then Barty has his wand out.

Evan flies through the air, landing on his back, the air knocked out of him. Barty lifts himself up off the floor and walks over to Evan slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. He straddles Evan, holds him down.

Evan may have brute force but Barty is analytical and strategic.

The roles are reversed now, Barty holding Evan down, his arm across his throat, his knees bracketing his hips. Evan meets his gaze, knows his own is hot and lidded and lifts his hips, trying to meet Barty’s.

For the second time, Barty pulls away. He leans back on his haunches, face blank.

“What was that about?” Evan demands, lifting himself up on his elbows, still on the floor. “Twice you had the opportunity to kiss me. You pulled away both times, why?”

“I’m not in the mood, Evan.”

“You, not in the mood? Has hell frozen over?” Evan says lightly but it falls flat. Barty’s never rejected him before and it stings, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Barty’s tone is suddenly cold, his eyes even colder. “You’re not irresistible you know.”

“What? Where is this coming from?” Evan doesn’t like the look in his eyes, it’s spiteful, there’s an intention to hurt there. He tries to buck Barty off of him but Barty digs his heels in, holds him down.

Barty leans in close, whispers in his ear. “You’re too easy, Evan. It’s no fun when you’re constantly throwing yourself at me.”

Evan recoils. “Go fuck yourself.”

“No need, not when there’s plenty of people who would jump at the chance.”

Evan pushes him off, comes to his feet in a rush. He’s breathing heavy, staring at Barty like he’s never seen him before. “You’re a real piece of shit, Crouch. Just like your dad.”

Evan leaves, without a backwards glance at Barty. As soon as the door slams shut, Barty presses a shaking hand to his mouth and tries to swallow his nausea.

Evan Rosier is a distraction. One Barty can’t afford to indulge in.

—

Barty and Evan haven’t spoken much, since the incident in the Room of Requirement. Things between them have been stilted and awkward for weeks now.

Barty gets it. He was a dick and Evan’s waiting for an apology but what he doesn’t understand is that Barty can’t give him one.

What they have is complicated, always has been. More than friends, not quite lovers. Fiercely loyal to one another in some ways and undoubtedly unfaithful in others. It scares Barty, more than he’d care to admit. No one gets under his skin like Evan Rosier does.

And right now, he can’t lose himself in the chaos that Evan unleashes every time he looks at him for a little too long, every time his touch lingers longer than it should. He can’t afford to. Barty is all over the place and he feels like he’s losing more and more of himself as the days go by. He’s barely holding it together as it is.

He can’t let himself have this, can’t let himself have Evan. There are bigger, more important things to focus on, people he needs to protect and he can’t do that when Evan is constantly on his mind.

What Evan doesn’t understand is that although this may be nothing more than sex with no strings attached to him, it’s getting dangerously close to obsession for Barty.

He’s on his bed, eyes closed and arms crossed underneath his head when the door opens with a bang. Barty opens one eye, surveys Evan standing by the door and closes it again.

“Barty.” Evan’s tone is insistent.

Barty opens his eyes with a disgruntled huff and sends Evan a cool look. “What have I done now?”

“Do you want to start by explaining what’s going on with you?” Evan says, coming to sit on the edge of Barty’s bed. “You’re lashing out, pushing everyone away. This isn’t you.” His voice softens. “Let me help.”

Barty sits up, feels the guilt wash over him. He’s been so unfair to him, these past few weeks and here he is, still showing up for him, always the bigger, better person. “Ev, I’m stressed. We all have a lot going on. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half the time, I’m sorry.”

Evan reaches out, but something catches his eye, he lets his hand drop between them. “How’d you get that mark on your neck?”

The bruise is old, from nearly two weeks ago, a useless attempt to try and get Evan out of his head. It hadn’t worked.

Barty furrows his brow, sends him a bemused smile. “Last time I checked it was none of your business.”

Evan laughs but the look on his face is unpleasant. “None of my business? Are you kidding me?”

Barty watches as a nerve jumps in Evan’s jaw. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, lets Evan work through whatever he wants to say.

“If this thing between us is going to carry on, I want it to just be me and you. No one else.”

Barty can feel his heart in his chest, can hear the rush of blood in his ears. You idiot, he thinks desperately, don’t you understand? I can’t. I’m in too deep already, any deeper and I’ll drown and I’ll drag you down with me.

He sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “I can’t give you that.”

Barty sees the anger rise on Evan’s face, the thinly veiled hurt. “So you’d risk losing this? What we have, for what? A cheap, easy fuck whenever you fancy it?”

“Isn’t that what you are?” Barty regrets it the minute the words leave his mouth. Evan flinches, like Barty’s response had caused him physical pain.

Evan’s eyes are wet and when he swallows, his throat bobs. “I hate you. I really fucking hate you.” He says, he sounds like he means it.

I’m sorry. Barty thinks to himself as he watches Evan go. But this is for the best. For both of us.

—

It’s late, the common room mostly deserted when James returns from his meeting with Lily. They walk through the portrait hole, arm in arm, Lily bright and animated despite the late hour.

She’s telling him a story about Mary, and Lily really is at her most beautiful when she’s talking about someone she loves. She absolutely lights up when she talks about her girlfriend, her eyes glittering like stars, her smile radiant. Lily’s beauty is so much more than skin deep, it’s in her soul, in the way that she carries herself, the values she holds. James is constantly in awe of her.

It had taken them awhile to get here, to have this level of friendship but James is so pleased that they got here eventually. He really does think he has a friend for life in Lily.

“You going to bed?” She asks, unhooking their arms so she can flop down on the sofa closest to the window, the one that’s tucked away in the corner of the room and offers the most privacy.

James shakes his head and motions for her to move her legs so he can sit beside her. “No, not yet.”

Lily hooks her knees under her chin and looks at him, her eyes full of understanding. “You don’t want to go up to the common room and see Sirius.”

He smiles ruefully, rubs his eyes behind his glasses. “That obvious, huh?”

Lily shrugs, tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “It’s something to do with Regulus, isn’t it?”

James quickly scans the room, making sure that no one heard what she just said before sending her a startled look. “Lily, I’m not even going to try and deny it because I think you have a scary sixth sense when it comes to your friends.”

She winks at him but behind her playful facade, there’s genuine concern there.

“He doesn’t know, does he? About how much you care for his brother?” Her voice is so soft, so incredibly gentle that James worries that he’s going to crack, that the truth is going to pour out of him like water from a shattered vase.

It takes him a minute to speak and when he does, his voice wavers. “No, he doesn’t.”

Understanding dawns in Lily’s eyes. “You love him?”

James throws caution to the wind and nods.

Lily lets out an audible breath. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” James says weakly. She reaches for his hand and he lets her, takes comfort in it.

Lily knocks their shoulders together and squeezes his hand. “He’s hot in a brooding way, I guess.”

James laughs. “Yeah, he is.”

He turns to look at her, properly. The lack of judgement in her face, the warmth that pours out of her. He admires the freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks, her bright green eyes that are always slightly crinkled at the sides from how much she smiles. She really is the best of them.

“Lily, we’re friends right?”

She nods, without hesitation, grips his hand between both of hers. “Of course, why’d you ask?”

James sends a quick apology to Regulus, for slightly bending the rules but he needs someone to know, someone to remember who he really is. He can’t have Lily think that he’d stoop this low without reason to.

“You know me, right? The type of person that I am?”

Lily wrinkles her nose, confused. “After seven years, I’d hope so.” She sends him a mischievous look. “Though you were really annoying for five of them.”

He rolls his eyes, good-naturedly but his tone is serious when he speaks. “Will you try and remember that please? When things get really tough.”

There’s an imperceivable shift as Lily realises that they’re having a more serious conversation than she first realised.

“James,” She says slowly. “Are you in trouble?”

“No, I’m okay. Just promise me you’ll remember.”

Lily is about to reply, her mouth parting round her next words when the sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupts them. They both turn to see Sirius standing there, he looks worn down and it makes James’ heart ache.

“I thought I could hear you.” Sirius sends Lily a half-smile. “Can I borrow James please?”

“Course. Night you two.” Lily says, giving James’ hand one last squeeze before she lets go. James mourns the loss of contact and comfort immediately.

‘Tell him’ Lily mouths as she heads up the stairs. She waits for him to nod, a slight tilt of his head as to not tip off Sirius before she blows him a kiss, disappearing down the hallway.

Sirius sits down beside James. If James shifted slightly to the left, they’d be touching yet the distance between them feels vast and endless.

“What’s going on with us, James?” Sirius sends him an unhappy look, shifts ever so slightly to the right, tries to bridge the gap between them. “I miss us.”

“I know.” James says quietly. “Me too.” And he means it but he can’t let it change what needs to be done.

Everyone has slowly filtered out of the common room, leaving them alone in the big, empty room. It’s the first time they’ve spoken properly since the night of Sirius’ outburst outside the Slytherin dungeons. When James had returned to their room later that evening, Sirius had asked him if he’d been with Regulus. James had told him that he hadn’t, that he really had gone to get some fresh air and clear his head but they’d both known that, that was a lie. That untruth was what caused this rift between the two of them, one that James has to let grow even bigger.

“I know what the problem is, why things have been so off between us.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. Regulus does the same thing when he’s worried about something.

Sirius’ next words are pained. “James, whatever this thing is that you have going on with Regulus, it has to stop.”

James closes his eyes, shakes his head. “No, Sirius. He deserves a chance, just like you did.”

Sirius’ smile is bitter and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I earned that chance, James. What has he done to deserve your time? Your friendship?”

James knows what he has to do. He hates himself for it.

“He has more than my friendship.”

“What?” Sirius has never sounded so cold when speaking to James. He feels the way Sirius stiffens beside him, the tension that lines his body. James doesn’t dare look up at him, can’t bear to meet his eyes, worried what he’ll find there.

“Sirius, Regulus and I…we’re together.”