Regulus is curled up with James on the couch, his head resting against James’s warm chest, their heartbeats thumping in tandem. James is softly running a hand through Regulus’s short curls and humming softly to himself. It’s a perfect evening. It’s Regulus’s favorite way to end the day.
And he’s about to ruin it.
Regulus pushes all the air out of his lungs, every last drop until he’s nearly gasping for breath. The he inhales slowly, filling himself with the warm, comfortable air of the last good day. He inhales until his stomach is full and it feels like his lungs might burst.
He read once that in regular breathing, people don’t exhale completely. Some of the air stays there, never really leaving the lungs. Now, as long as Regulus never fully exhales again, he’ll always have a little bit of the last perfect night in him. It will be a bit more real than a memory.
“Are you alright?” James asks from behind Regulus’s shoulder, hands pausing in their steady caress.
Regulus feels his body stiffen, his defenses raise. It’s time. He has to do this. He pulls the familiar, blank mask over his features. No emotion. Stay strong.
Regulus tears himself from James’s body and sits up straight. He’s been needing to say it all night, for the last few days, really, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’s running out of time. Now or never.
“I’m joining the Death Eaters.” Regulus says quickly, bracing himself for what comes next.
It’s apparently a little too quickly, because James just blinks in surprise and disbelief. “You’re—you’re what?”
Regulus steels himself. “The Dark Lord has asked me to take his mark, and I’ve accepted.”
James cocks his head in the cutest possible expression of confusion. “No you haven’t. You’re going to fight against him, with Dumbledore.” Clearly, he’s not processing well.
Regulus tries to push away the thought of how adorable James looks right now.
“No, James. I’m joining the Death Eaters.” He affirms. It’s a little bit easier to say the second time.
James scoots back on the couch, taking Regulus in with his eues, lingering on his arm as if he’s already hiding the mark on it.
“But—but what about our plans? We’re going to run away together! We’re going to live together and die of old age together, and we’ll make Lily get us matching headstones, because let’s face it, Remus is an old man already and Sirius is going to die way before us trying to jump through a hoop of fire on his bike or something, but Lily is going to live forever. We’re going to be happy together! We can’t do any of that if you’re a Death Eater.” He’s rambling now, voice rising in hysterics as goes on.
“I—it—it’s not going to be like that.”
James jumps up from the couch. “What do you mean it’s not going to be like that?” he asks. “Why not?”
Regulus keeps his face blank and voice emotionless. “I’m going, James. It’s already decided.”
James is starting to pace back and forth in front of the couch, shaking his hands out in pent-up energy. His face is getting redder and redder as the anger builds.
Regulus feels his heartrate quicken, but he forces it to slow down. This is just James. James can be as mad as he likes, but he isn’t going to hurt Regulus. James would never hurt Regulus. If only Regulus could say the same.
“Decided by who?” James finally demands, pausing his pace, “Because I know damn well you didn’t decide this!”
Regulus tenses every muscle in his body so as not to flinch.
Remain calm. He reminds himself. No emotion.
“It doesn’t matter who decided it, it’s the way it has to be.” Regulus says flatly.
“No, no!” James exclaims, pacing again. “Why would it have to be this way? You can stay with me! With Sirius!”
The anger in his tone has melted away to something more desperate, more urgent. It nearly breaks Regulus’s heart.
“James, I can’t.”
James whips around to face Regulus. “Please?” He begs “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.” He falls to his knees before Regulus, looking up at him with dewy doe eyes.
“I love you, Regulus! Don’t go!”
Regulus is struck by the raw, open emotion on James’s face. It isn’t the first time James has said “I love you,” but it surprises Regulus every time.
“I love you.” James repeats a bit softer, taking Regulus’s hands in his own.
Regulus feels his heart skip a beat, but he forces himself to yank his hands away. He shifts on the couch so he’s angled away from James. He can’t touch him right now. It’ll ruin everything.
“I know.” Regulus murmurs. “I know you do.”
Until Regulus met James, his entire experience with love revolved around duty, loyalty, and expectation. It’s what his mother claimed to feel as she slapped him across the face. What his father said when he yelled at Regulus over some minor mishap. It’s what his brother promised as he walked out the door. Until James, Regulus didn’t know how deep and real love could feel. If only he could hang onto that. If only he could say it back.
Regulus shoves that thought into a box. “This isn’t about love, James.” He says coolly, “It’s bigger than that.”
James’s face collapses in betrayal and hurt. He sits back on his heels.
“What could possibly be bigger?” his voice is so small, so pleading.
Regulus doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry at this sappy, cliché sentiment. It’s just the sort of thing James would say. He truly believes stuff like that. James Potter thinks love solves everything. He thinks people can be redeemed and that everyone is worth giving a second chance. His trusting spirit is one of the character flaws that drew Regulus to him in the first place.
It's a shame that Regulus has to be the one to crush it.
“War is bigger.” Regulus explains, his voice coming out a bit too coldly. “Family, influence. That’s what’s important. Not love.” He sneers a bit on the word, just for good measure. “This isn’t about you and me; it’s about the future of the wizarding world.”
Potter’s face twists in disbelief. “But you’re talking about Voldemort’s side!” he gapes, “He’s killing people! He’s tearing apart the ministry! He’s orchestrating a whole genocide! You can’t tell me you honestly believe in all that!””
The look of betrayal on James’s face is overwhelming, and Regulus’s chest twinges in guilt, but he forces himself to look at James, to see the damage he’s doing. It will make things easier in the long run. It will be easier to stay away from James knowing how much he’ll hurt him if he stays.
“My entire family is on Voldemort’s side.” Regulus says, his own voice sounding distant and foreign. “I will fight with them.”
“Not your entire family!” James counters, “What about Sirius? He isn’t on their side.”
Regulus tries to embrace the distant far-off feeling starting to blanket him. He pulls up on his occlumency walls.
“Sirius is not my family.” He spits. It takes every ounce of strength for Regulus to keep his voice flat, but he does. It is a cruel, unfeeling sentence.
James takes the comment like a slap in the face. He stares at Reggie, shocked.
Regulus stares back into James’s watering eyes. See? He thinks, See how much you hurt him?
“But… but Voldemort?” James splutters helplessly.
James can’t understand. James could never understand. He didn’t grow up how Regulus did. He never had to choose between family, safety, and honor. He never had to earn love. It was all handed to him on a silver platter.
If James won’t see reason, Regulus has to try another way.
“I’m dangerous, Potter.” He says. “I’m dangerous to be around. I’ve cast unforgivables. I’ve hurt muggles. I’ve brought supporters to Voldemort’s side. I’m not nice.” He meant to spit it angrily, or threateningly, even, but he can’t even conjure that emotion anymore.
James huffs out a breath, blowing a spare bit of his wild black hair off of his forehead. He crosses his arms and looks down at Regulus.
“Oh please. Stop it with the tough-guy act. You might fool your parents, but you’re not fooling me. I know you, Reg. You’re kind and sweet. You cry when you watch first years run into their parents’ arms during break. You sneak lemon drops into Evan’s pockets when he’s having a bad day. You help the younger Slytherins with their homework. You aren’t like them!”
A lump forms at the back of Regulus’s throat. He tries to swallow it. Only James would notice those things. Only James would see him like that.
Regulus wants so badly to be that person. He wants to forget all this and wrap his arms around James. He wants to burrow his head into his neck and pull him close. He wants to take his pouting lips between his own and massage them into a better expression.
But he can’t. He can’t have that.
Regulus clenches his hands into fists in his lap.
“I am Regulus Arcturus Black.” he asserts. “Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I have been trained in the Dark Arts since before I could hold a wand. I am destined to serve the Dark Lord. I am not kind. I am not sweet. And I am not running away with you.”
His voice is so firm, so steady, that it almost convinces Regulus himself.
James, however, is less easily influenced.
“You don’t have to be like them, Reg. You have choices.” He sits back on the couch again, putting one hand comfortingly on Regulus’s thigh.
Regulus stares at the hand, barely even registering James’s words.
James scoots closer to Regulus. “You can join the right side. Hell, you can join no side, if you want. Just don’t join his side. Don’t do it.”
Poor Potter. Poor, Innocent, naïve Potter. He may be two years older than Regulus, but the world has spent many more years wearing Regulus down. Regulus knows it’s not so simple. He shrugs James off of him.
“I will do what I have to to protect my family.” Regulus insists.
James groans in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “Your family? Your family, Regulus? I don’t know if you know this, but your so-called family tried to kill your brother. I bet they’ve even tried to kill you a few times and you just haven’t bothered to tell anyone! You don’t owe them anything. They aren’t worth your protection.”
James’s words strike Regulus. Not because of their harshness, but because of their trueness. James is right. Of course he’s right, but James isn’t a Slytherin. He’s thinking in Gryffindor terms of bravery and action. James isn’t considering the consequences or the bigger picture. He’s not seeing the other side of the argument, the cunning, strategic, Slytherin side.
“If I run,” Regulus says in a steely-cold voice, devoid of all inflection, “they will never stop chasing me. I am too far into this. Too much is expected of me. If I go, my family will hunt me down. The Death Eaters will, Voldemort himself, even. I will never stop running, never stop looking over my shoulder. And even if they don’t find me, they’ll kill everyone who ever knew me in their search. No one will be safe.”
Then, in a quiet exhale of air so soft he hopes James doesn’t hear it at all, he adds, “You won’t be safe.”
The anger and hurt instantly fades from James’s eyes, replaced with determination.
“You don’t have to worry about me.” James assures. “I can take care of myself, of both of us.”
The words make Regulus’s eyes burn. He can’t stand it anymore. He can’t look at James anymore. He closes his eyes and tries to drain the shaking out of his words. He tries to raise the walls he’s so carefully crafted in his mind.
“But I do worry.” he says in a voice just barely clinging to calm. “I worry all the time. About you, about Sirius, about Barty and Evan. But if I’m on his side, I won’t have to worry because I’ll already know.”
A beat passes, and Regulus can just imagine the adorable little crinkle in James’s forehead as he tries to puzzle it out. Eventually, he asks, “Know what?”
James was never destined for Ravenclaw.
“If I’m on their side, I’ll know their plans.” Regulus still isn’t looking at James. He can feel himself falling apart. “I already have connections with the Death Eaters. Bellatrix is on her way to being Voldemort’s right-hand. I’d be privy to their schemes, and I could make sure your name never touches his lips.” His voice is no more than a whisper now, vibrating despite his attempt to keep it flat. “I could make sure you stay safe, that no one touches you.”
James thinks a moment, and Regulus opens his eyes again, the worst part is over. The most vulnerable part behind them. He buries his emotions. He pushes away any doubts he still has.
“I don’t like this.” James says.
“I know.” Regulus answers.
“I don’t understand it.” James continues, rubbing a hand against his forehead.
“I know.” Regulus says.
Another beat of silence passes as James sits with his thoughts.
Finally, in a tiny, defeated voice, James says, “You’re going to do it regardless, aren’t you?”
This is the most broken Regulus has ever heard him, and if he weren’t squeezing himself so far out of his own body right now, he might feel bad about it.
“Yes. I am.”
James is crying now, tears slipping silently out of his eyes. He’s so beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, even when he cries. Regulus never deserved him. It was wrong of him to ever hold James in his arms. He never deserved to taint such beauty.
“But what about you?” James rasps in a tear-soaked voice. “Who’s keeping you safe? How will I know that you’re okay?”
Regulus steadies his breath. He pushes the rising tears back into his chest. He has to be strong. He has to be sturdy. For James.
“I’ve been doing it for seventeen years; I can do it for a few more.”
The air is filled with tension. Obviously, this answer is not enough for James.
Regulus suppresses a sigh.
“I have a feeling it will be quite the task to keep every Death Eater from personally going to your house and cursing the living daylights out of you. As long as no one is doing that, I must still be okay.” Regulus attempts a wry smile, but comes out as more of a grimace.
James doesn’t laugh either. The tears are too thick on his face.
This time, Regulus does sigh a little bit. A resigned, sad sigh.
“I’ll protect you until the day I die.” he promises.
James sniffles. “I love you, Reg.” he breathes.
Regulus knows it’s a bad idea, but he allows himself one last look at his boyfriend. One more glance to remember him by. And then, rising from the couch, he allows himself one more sentence before they part ways. “As long as you are still fighting,” Regulus promises, “you’ll know I am too.”
It's these words that ring through James Potters head over and over in the next few years. It rings every time a Death Eater’s spell bounces off of a shield he didn’t remember casting, every time Dumbledore somehow gets a hold of one of Voldemort’s plans, every time he attends someone else’s funeral, the words ring in his ears. “As long as you are still fighting, you’ll know I am too.”
And it’s these words that ring through James’s head on that fateful 1981 Halloween night. They ring through his head as Lily goes upstairs to put the baby to sleep. They ring through his head as he hears the unexpected crack of apparition. They ring through his head as the front door blasts open, and it is in that final moment of panic that James knows with absolute certainty: Regulus Black is not fighting anymore.
And that knowledge that hurts a thousand times worse than everything that follows.