Flooded
There’s something uninteresting about James’s toast. His pumpkin juice is just plain boring. The only thing that interests him is the boy a few tables away, curls falling into his eyes as he eats quietly. James can’t take his eyes away.
He noticed it almost immediately. As soon as he entered the great hall. The bruise on Regulus’s cheek had gone, disappeared and given way to clear skin. There wasn’t even any residual redness from a healing spell. It was just- gone. Which was odd, because Regulus had explicitly said he was unable to heal it. Regulus was limping just a bit. James focused on that. The slight discrepancy in his step. It meant that the other day was real, that it’d actually happened, that Regulus Black had collapsed in front of him, bruised and bleeding. That James had helped.
Guilt curls around his stomach when across from him, Sirius laughs at something Peter had said. James knows he should tell him, especially since that was the route cause of his and Remus’ fight. About the broom closet, about the meeting yesterday in the hallway. He doesn’t.
When Regulus had sat down, he’d met James’ eyes. Just for a moment. Fleeting. But it’s enough- because for a second, Regulus’s skin… flickers. Like an illusion, there one second gone the next. Back again in a blink. A flash of a bruise, diminished but still dark. High on his cheekbone. Then it’s gone and James is left staring, utterly confused.
What the fuck?
Had he glamoured his face? Was it a spell? James has never seen anything like that, and he isn’t even sure what that is.
Remus elbows him, and James snaps his head around. He takes a swig of his entirely too boring pumpkin juice, and tries to clear his mind.
After he’d gotten Sirius and Remus out of that closet, (which had been hard, because unfortunately Regulus was really good at locking spells) things had been frosty, but better. They’d talked? Or something? James didn’t want to risk opening old wounds by bringing it up to ask.
But here they were, talking and laughing like normal. Everytime Sirius and Remus fought it was like the friend group would dissipate for a few days, giving them time. After every reconciliation, they would come back together as a whole. James looked them over with pride. Mary was talking to Marlene next to Sirius, and Lily was tucked in next to Remus.
Lily.
The girl he’s been in love with for 6 years. Every time he sees her she seems to tear through his chest, leaving a fiery wake of destruction behind.
It's different this year, though. He’s decided to take a step back. He’s made an arse of himself too many times to count. When he stopped and thought about it, it was no wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t either, if he was her. Honestly- who would? So he was taking a breath. Backing away. That’s what he told his friends, anyway.
Inwardly, he's trying his best to begin to let her go. It isn't like he doesn't still have feelings for her; he doubts he'll ever feel nothing when it comes to Lily Evans. Feelings too big to name. But he can see it in the way she looked at him, the way her eyes watch him when he speaks. She wasn’t indifferent like he’d thought, she was platonic. Purely and unmistakingly. There was no bad blood- but that was the extent of their friendship. So he's just… letting her go.
As best he can.
When the post comes James’s letter drops into his eggs, startling him from his thoughts. He grabs it, using a fork to pick off little bits of yolk. It’s from his mother- her loopy script is always perfectly centered on the page. Sirius glances over. He frowns in indignation.
“She didn’t send me one! She always sends ours together.” He leans across the table.
James snickers and yanks the letter away. “Too bad.” He’d let Sirius read it later.
James unfolds it carefully, flicking another piece of yolk off the seal. He begins to read, and his world starts to fall apart.
He goes numb, dropping the letter. He hasn’t finished it, but he doesn’t need to. Someone’s flooded the great hall, he realizes. They must’ve. Everything’s underwater. Moving slowly. He can’t hear his friends. He can’t hear his breath.
He picks up the letter, folds it. Shoves it in a pocket. Stands, without shaking. Smiles at Sirius. James says something, but he’s not sure what. Sirius responds, but he’s underwater. James can’t hear him. So he leaves, and it feels like he’s wading through the ocean. Deeper, deeper. The letter in his pocket keeps him weighed down. The doors open, and he slips into the hall.
Breaking free of the tide, he begins to run.
---
They can’t find James for the rest of the day.
---
Regulus has made it a habit to visit the chamber everyday. Or- he’s tried. It’s hard, to find time.
He has a plan now, though. He knows what he’s going to do, how to get the fangs. It’s just… going to take some time.
He’s explored the chamber a bit. The upper levels, at least. The ones he can reach without getting too close to the Basilisk. He likes the top of Salazar’s head the best, just because its flat and wide. He hasn’t even attempted to go into the statue's mouth, just because he knows that would be the Basilisk’s last straw.
For the most part, he stays on the head. It’s where he is now- slightly bored and incredibly tired. Maybe he should’ve brought his homework.
The voice, the Basilisk hisses. What did it say? What did it mean?
Regulus cocks his head. The voice?
Loud. Repeating.
Ah. That voice. Lockdown. The Dark Lord attacked another school.
The Dark Lord. The Basilisk went quiet for a minute. The Dark Lord?
Merlin. How long had the snake been down there? Lord… Lord Voldemort. Regulus supplies, uncomfortable with the name.
Voldemort. Another pause. Who ?
Regulus sighs, then spends the next hour giving the snake a bit of a history lesson.
---
That night, Regulus slips out to get some quiet practice on the quidditch pitch. The moon is the only light around, casting everything in a silvery glow. The only sound is a far away cricket. Everything is peaceful.
He does a few laps on his broom, gliding through the cool air. The breeze on his face and hair quiets his mind. It always has. Flying and the violin- the only two things that can truly calm him down. When he’s slightly out of breath and adequately tired, he lowers himself to the ground.
That's when he notices he’s got company. He straightens instantly. Drops his broom.
“Are you watching me, Potter?”
James shrugs. His eyes never leave Regulus. He’s not smiling- which is odd.
“Why are you here?”
“Maybe I wanted to practice. Maybe I wanted to talk to you.” James tips his head. Regulus shoves down the flush in his cheeks, thanking Merlin it was dark.
“Potter, it’s cold out. And past curfew.”
“I know.” James’ brows furrow. “Your cheek-”
Instinctually Regulus puts up his hand. Shit. Was it slipping? He’s normally better about this. He’s normally better at controlling it. He needs to focus.
“This morning at breakfast… it, like, flickered. I thought you couldn’t heal it. Did you glamour it?”
Regulus’s breath catches in his throat. James was watching him at breakfast? That’s besides the point- can he still save this? Regulus sighs. It’s too late. “Something like that. A personal spin on a disillusionment charm.” It’s how he’s been hiding it these past few days from his friends and the general public.
“But in the hallway yesterday- it was there.”
Regulus shrugs. “It wasn’t worth the energy to keep the shield up. You already knew about it.”
“You modified it? The spell?”
Regulus nods.
“Why did it flicker?” James shivers slightly in the cold. Regulus can’t see his face.
“I need to… focus. If I want the charm to stay up. And I haven't had to use it in a while, so I’m just starting to get back into-”
“In a while? You’ve done this before?”
Regulus doesn’t respond. He crosses his arms. Waits for James to get it. James makes a small sound in the back of his throat. “Your mother. Merlin- one day I’m gonna-”
“What, Potter? What are you going to do?”
“That woman belongs in Azkaban.” James’ voice is cold.
And, well- Regulus can’t argue with that.
“How much do you- I mean. How often do you need to use it? Why not just heal the cuts and stuff? That’s… um. That’s what Sirius did.”
This conversation is making something uncomfortable twist in Regulus’s stomach. He wants to push it away from him, dig himself a hole and crawl into it. “I… not that much.” Lie. “Just after a break, or over the summer or… anyway. She learned how to leave marks that didn’t heal. After Sirius, I mean. She adapted. So did I.” He shrugs.
James is watching him. Regulus can feel it. He doesn’t like it. He changes the subject.
“Our match isn’t for another two weeks. You don’t need to be practicing. Why are you actually out here?”
“Like I said, I just wanted to talk. We’re gonna destroy you, by the way.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t let that happen.”
“I’m sure you won’t.”
“You don’t stand a chance.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Despite the light teasing, which is usually James’ forte, there’s something twisted in his expression. Something dark, just under his skin. Regulus finds himself curious.
“We know your strategies. We know your individual weaknesses. What did you want to talk about? Surely more than quidditch.”
“True Slytherins. See, us Gryffindors, we’re planning on defeating you with the power of friendship.” James’ words are sunny yet his face is anything but. He’s staring at his feet now, eyes hard.
“How nobel. Potter, what-”
“My dad’s sick.”
Oh.
Oh. That… wasn’t what Regulus was expecting. “I'm sorry.”
James glances up at the apology. He tries for a smile but his voice is shaking. “Wow. Did Regulus Black really just show a shred of empathy?”
“James.”
The smile slips off James’ face at his first name. He takes a shuddering breath. Regulus’s heart twists. He needs to remind himself that he despises this boy. “How long… is it… I mean…”
“He’s got a few months. It’ll be slow.”
Fuck it. He’ll remind himself later.
The breath punches out of Regulus and it’s a few seconds before he speaks again. “Have you told Sirius?”
James shakes his head. “Just got the letter this morning. It was addressed to me, which is odd because Mum always sends me and Sirius’s letters together-” (Regulus tries to ignore how quickly those words slice into his heart) “And he didn’t get one. He would’ve, I think, if she wanted him to know immediately. So I didn’t tell Sirius. Or Pete. Or Remus. Or… anyone. I know I’m an awful person.”
“Who have you told?”
“You.”
And. Wow.
“Just me?” Regulus crinkles his nose. “Why?”
“Because. I don’t know. I just- I can’t deal with them right now.” James’ voice cracks. There are tears in his eyes, glinting in the moonlight. “I thought you could tell me how to make it better.”
Regulus takes a step forward. None of James’ words are making sense, a jumbled heap of thoughtless spirals. Regulus doesn’t know how to deal with this. “Potter, I… well. I’m sorry, I guess. About your dad. I don’t know how to help you, or what can help. This is- this is Sirius’s job. It should be. I think.”
“I can’t tell him yet. Please,” The tears in James’ eyes spill onto his cheeks when he looks up at Regulus. “You deal with pain so well, I’ve seen it-”
“I’m more practiced with pain then you, Potter. This isn’t something you can shove down.”
“Like you hide behind your glamour spells?” There’s a bite to James’ words, but Regulus lets them roll over him. Now isn’t the time.
“I do that because I have to. You have friends, I mean, good ones, that can support you. They can help you through this.” I can’t do that for you, Regulus thinks. We both still hate each other.
“You’re right. I don’t know why I’m here.” James turns, staring at his feet. Regulus takes a step forward.
“Wait-”
James pauses. Turns back.
“What’s he sick with?”
“Dragon Pox. They think he got it on a mission or something.”
Dragon Pox is incurable and painful and incredibly contagious. James wouldn’t even be allowed to visit.
“And your mum?” Regulus braced himself for bad news.
James just shook his head. “No, she was visiting a family friend in Wales. She’s still there. She’s fine. He’s um. He’s alone.” Suddenly, he starts crying again, sinking into a squat right there on the quidditch pitch. Regulus stares at him, taking a step forward. He wants to do... something. Run away, potentially. Make him stop crying. It’s so desperately hard to hate him when he looks like that. And he really, really, wants to hate him.
“Potter. I… you can’t have come here genuinely thinking I could make you feel better. I mean…me?”
The breeze picks up, and the trees begin to sway.
James doesn’t look at him, trying and failing to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I do have an actual reason.”
Regulus stands over him. “What’s that?”
When James does look up, there’s fire in his eyes. Danger. “I need you to find a cure for Dragon Pox.”