Trophy
Sometimes, when Sirius touches him, Remus feels like he’s about to explode. It’s slow, like honey, spreading from the inciting point of contact across his body. Red hot lava, ready for combustion. It never matters how many clothes, how many layers, stand in the way. Sirius always seems to strike right to his core.
Like now, for instance. They’re sitting on Remus’s bed, sorting his records. Sirius’s knee is brushing his, and Remus is going insane.
“Moons,” (sometimes Remus wants to rip that name out of his mouth. He’ll use his teeth if he has to.) “Where did you put the Ziggy Stardust?”
“Uh- I think it fell off the bed. Here.” He leans down to grab it, handing it to Sirius who puts it in the Bowie pile.
“Hm. Thanks. By the way- do you know where Prongs went? I was hoping we could meet about a prank tonight.”
Ah. James.
“I don’t know. He left after dinner. Probably tutoring with Flitwick again.” It’s a lie, and they both know it.
Sirius flips Abbey Road over between his long pale fingers. He told Remus once that he used to play Piano. Remus believes it. “See, that’s funny. I mentioned his tutoring to Flitwick the other day, and the old geezer had no idea what I was talking about.”
“Sirius…”
“So I’m just saying, Moons, I really don’t think he’s at tutoring at all right now.” There’s a bite to Sirius’s words, and a strand of his hair falls across his eyes, which stay fixed on the record in front of him.
Remus knows. Peter knows. Sirius knows, for sure now that he’s confirmed it. James sneaks off for hours each week, and has never once told any of them where he goes. Remus and Peter let him be. Sirius isn’t so willing to let it slide.
“I don’t care, really,” Sirius starts, and Remus almost wants to laugh. “I just wish, as his best mate, he’d at least tell me which girl he’s shagging behind our backs.”
Remus bites his lip. “You have to have noticed this only started after Fleamont-”
“I don’t want to talk about Fleamont.”
“You might have to one day.”
“No, I don’t think I will, thank you.”
There’s still a rift there, all these weeks later. Remus can see it, written out across Sirius’s face whenever James mentions his Dad. The hurt, the betrayal, the lingering anger. They pretend everything’s fine, because they both have to. They’re James and Sirius. What else can they do?
“I’m just- I’m not sure this is about a girl. What about Lily?”
“Have you so much as seen him stare at her once this semester?” Sirius tosses the record into a stack and Remus cringes. “No embarrassing comments. No full-bodied attempts to make her fall in love with him. Something’s changed.”
Remus nods. He can’t argue with that. “Maybe it’s a good change.”
Sirius snorts. “I don’t think so. I miss when he was so gone for Lily he could barely get out a sentence.”
Remus frowns. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”
“At least then we knew what he was thinking.”
And, well, that was true enough. “He still cares the same amount, you know.” Remus sets a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, and tries to ignore the following shudder. “About you. And us. He’s just… going through a lot.”
Sirius lets out a huff. “Aren't we all, though? I mean shit Remus, Monty’s basically my father too, and you…” He cuts himself off, but Remus feels him tense.
“Right. My wolf thing.”
“Yeah. Your wolf thing.”
Remus lets himself flop back against the bed, ignoring the fact that he’s laying over like ten records. Their sharp edges dig into his back. It doesn’t matter what James says. He can feel it. The anger, the hate, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. Some dark, animalistic part of him creeping out from all his dark corners. It’s all consuming on the full moon. Terrifying. James still has a scar, he knows. He can still see him, clutched in Sirius’s arms, dark skin covered in blood. Eyes confused, dazed, pained.
Remus had been sick that night, after they got James to fall asleep. He’d lain awake, emotions swirling, staring at the ceiling. He’d barely made it to the bathroom before he emptied his guilt into the toilet.
“My wolf thing.” he mutters to the canopy posts. Sirius flops down next to him.
“Never fear Moony, we’ll figure that out. Our combined brainpower is too much for your weird canine anatomy. And hey, worse comes to worse, I never much hated you as a wolf anyway.”
Remus has to close his eyes, saying nothing.
“Well. Me and Pete’s combined brain power. James might be too preoccupied to help.” Ah. They’re right back where they started.
Remus sighs. “Pads… he’s trying.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“Ok.”
Silence.
“I wish… I wish things would go back to the way things were. Before. When everyone was happy and safe.” Sirius doesn’t look at him.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I do. I want things back. Before this thing with you started happening. Before Monty got sick. Before James got all quiet and busy.”
Remus shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. This has been happening for a while, Pads. You’d still be at… at Grimmauld Place. If you went back before the wolf thing, I mean.”
“Merlin, how long have you been keeping this from us?” Sirius laughs lightly, but there’s no humor to it. He sighs. “Ok.”
Remus gives him a quizzical look. “Ok?”
“Ok. I’d go back to that house.”
Remus sits up, staring down at him. “What?”
“If it meant you’d be ok. If you and Monty didn’t have to deal with this. I’d go back there. It’d be worth it.”
And Remus can do nothing but stare, because he’s burning up, because every inch of him has turned to flame. His voice cracks slightly. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I can see what this is doing to you, Moons. If it meant protecting you, and Monty too, I’d go back. In a heartbeat.”
Remus has to look away, trying to focus on the rise and fall of his chest. Taking short breaths. “I wouldn’t let you do that. Prongs wouldn’t either.”
Sirius smiles sadly. “I know. I’d do it anyway.”
Remus had once drunkenly confessed to Sirius that he thought he might be an actual, physical star.
“I just think it’s something to consider,” He’d whispered, and Sirius had smiled at him blearily.
“What, that I'm a real star? Like from the sky?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it because I’m so bloody hot?”
Remus had frowned, shaking his head . “Not even that. More than that. You’re- you’re so fucking bright. And- and- I could die, any of us could die, right here, right now, and there’d still be you. There’d still be the stars in the sky. It could be dark, totally dark, and you’d still be shining.”
Sirius had stared at him, pupils blown out, lips parted. Flushed. “Not without you, Moons.”
“Me?”
And there was something, a moment, a second, where Remus let himself wonder. Let hope seep back in like a poison, clouding his judgment and killing him slowly from the inside. Not without you, Moons.
Not without you.
Because surely- surely that meant-
And then Sirius had blinked, slowly, and grinned, eyes darting away. Lost again. “ Yeah. I need all of you, Prongs and you and Wormtail, and all of you. Couldn’t shine without any of you.”
And the poison previously calling itself hope found its way to Remus’s throat, rising quickly, and he’d excused himself to the loo.
He’s never been very good at keeping his emotions down.
Back on Sirius’s bed, Remus hits him with a pillow. “Oh, fuck off. Get back to sorting.”
Sirius laughs, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up with a groan. “Fine. Boo.”
“Tosser.”
“Prick.”
“Cunt.”
“Bitch.”
Remus bites his cheek to stop himself from smiling.
---
They do find James eventually. He’s waiting for them at dinner, and Remus notices how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes.
Sirius, taking Remus’s advice, doesn’t bring up his absence. They let it go, again. Another thing unmentioned, swept under the carpet of forgiving friendship.
When dinner is over, Sirius scampers off to find Pete who never showed up, and Remus and James start the trek back to the dorm. They talk quietly, about Monty, about Remus, about classes.
“I can’t believe Pete actually tested fully out of herbology,” James says. Remus smiles.
“I know. Not fucking fair, right?”
“I thought you and I were supposed to be the smart ones…” James trails off suddenly, no longer walking. Remus nearly runs into him.
“What?”
James doesn’t respond. Remus follows his gaze, and furrows his brow. Regulus Black, talking to none other than Albus Dumbledore. His face is as bored as ever, but his eyes betray him. Angry- no, furious. Dangerous. Remus looks back to James, slightly confused as to why this warrants their stopping.
He doesn’t expect the look on James’s face. Eyes hard, brows furrowed, gaze locked on the pair. Remus elbows him. “James. What is it?”
“I just- I just need a minute. Hold on.” Before he can stop him, James stalks over to Regulus and Dumbledore. Remus curses, then follows.
“-I will not.” Regulus is hissing, angular features sharp.
James takes a step forward. “Regulus. Sorry Headmaster, but I need a word with him.”
Black looks up, caught off guard. Remus notices the slight widening of his eyes. “Potter-”
“Ah, I’m sorry Mr. Potter, but I really do need this time with Mr. Black. Perhaps you can find him some other time.”
“Perhaps not.” James grits out, and Remus doesn’t expect the stony undertone in his voice. Not towards Regulus as he’d previously thought, but towards Dumbledore.
“James.” Remus grabs his arm. Now is not the time to be picking fights with the Headmaster.
“Just a second, Remus. Regulus, I really need to speak with you.”
“I can handle myself, Potter.”
Something passes between them, leaving Remus more confused.
Dumbledore looks over his spectacles at them gently. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, if you’d kindly find your way to your dorm now. Mr. Black is about to join me for a small evening chat in my office.”
Regulus turns his icy stare back to Dumbledore at the same time as James says “He will not be doing that.”
“Mr. Potter-”
“Sorry, Sir. But we really must be off now. Curfew and all.” James sends another look at Regulus, who glares right on back, but doesn’t protest. Remus glances between them.
“What-”
James cuts him off with a look.
“Come on, Reg.”
Reg?
Reg?
James pushes Regulus’s shoulder, turning him around, and begins to walk away. Regulus looks torn for a moment, but a glance back at Dumbledore seems to cement his decision. “Sorry, Sir , but I really do need to have a word with Potter. We’ll have to catch up later.” There’s barely concealed malice underlying every word.
Remus gives Dumbledore an apologetic shrug and turns, catching up with James and Regulus. They walk in silence for a while, turning corners at random. Eventually, when they’re sure Dumbledore isn’t coming after them, they stop. Remus rounds on the two of them.
“Ok. What the fuck was that?”
Regulus just rolls his eyes and starts to walk away. Remus steps in front of him. “Not until you give me an explanation.”
He sees Regulus’ hand twitch towards his pocket, most likely to grab his wand. He settles for crossing his arms instead. “Potter saw me having a civil conversation with the Headmaster and deemed it best to step in.”
James scoffs. Remus glares at him. “Prongs?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll explain later. We should go back to the dorm.”
Remus sighs, resigned. He won’t let this go- but for now James is right. Sirius and Pete will be wondering where they are. “It’s past curfew. Did you bring the cloak?”
James nods, pulling it out. He tosses it to Remus, who begins to unfold it. Regulus turns, starting to leave. Remus notices James’ eyes follow him out.
Suddenly they hear echoing footsteps from around the corner. Someone’s coming. Instinctively, Remus throws on the cloak. James moves towards him to do the same, but it’s too late.
Professor Sprout rounds the corner. She stops at the sight of James and Regulus alone in the hallway. Remus holds his breath.
“Oh,” she sighs, folding her arms. “It’s a bit late to be out lads.”
“Sorry, Professor.”
“Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, you’ll have to serve a detention together.” At the following protest, Professor Sprout raises her hands. “I’m going easy on you, be grateful. Dumbledore has cracked down on curfew this year because of the attacks. I should be giving you a week's worth of detention, but just one this weekend will do for now.”
Regulus holds his chin up. “Thank you, Professor.”
James, looking glum, nods his assent.
“Right. Well. Off with you now, both to bed.”
Regulus, with a final glare in James’s direction, stalks off. James sends a look at where Remus is hidden, then turns and does the same. Remus follows a moment after, and Professor Sprout continues back the way she came.
When they get far enough away, Remus throws the cloak over James as well, and they continue pressed together. Remus breaks the silence.
“Care to explain?”
“He looked… angry. When he was talking to Dumbledore. I thought he could use some assistance.”
Remus thinks that over. “Why do we care if he needs assistance?” He doesn’t mind Regulus, maybe not as much as he’s supposed to, but he knows what Sirius thinks of him.
“Because he’s Pad’s little brother… and, I mean, we’re Gryffindors right?”
Remus stares at him. “What?”
“Were supposed to uh, protect people?” He refuses to look at Remus.
“I don’t think he needs our protection.”
James looks down, but nods. “You’re probably right.” A pause. “Can we just forget this happened then?”
“You mean you don’t want to tell Sirius.”
“No, I mean- I mean- we don’t have to lie to him if he asks, but let's just not bring it up.”
Remus stares at James. Something twists in his gut. How many things does James just not bring up?
“Fine.”
---
“Ok- so- what ? Why do you have detention with my little brother?” Sirius sits forward on his bed and James sighs. So much for not bringing it up.
“Uh- me and Moony ran into him in the hall and we got caught out after curfew by Sprout.”
Sirius studies him. “What were you doing?”
James can feel Remus’s eyes on him. “He was talking to Dumbledore and looked upset, so we went over to see what the situation was.”
Sirius sends him a look, but nods. “Alright. Ok.”
“And then we walked away, but it was past curfew so Sprout caught us before me and Moony could both get beneath the cloak.”
Sirius grins. “Well, I wish you luck mate. Dealing with that bloody wanker for two hours is enough to drive a person mad.”
James breathes out a sigh of relief, but Remus keeps his eyes on him. “Don’t worry, I still know how to do that tap dancing curse.”
Sirius sighs mournfully. “Oh, but don’t do that when I’m not there to see it. Merlin, I’d hate to miss it.”
“You could always join me in detention.”
Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, I’d rather burn in hell. You and Reggie, my two least favorite people.”
James throws a pillow at him, and when Sirius blocks it, he pounces on him. Peter laughs and Remus just huffs. “Children,” He mutters, but yelps when Sirius tackles him in return. James and Pete share a glance- the flush high on Remus’s cheeks isn't going unnoticed by anyone except maybe Sirius.
He doesn’t regret what he did. Even if it got him and Reg a detention. The sight of Regulus and Dumbledore… all James could see was Regulus curled on the couch, hiding until the poison he’d been tricked into ingesting passed. And so he’d stepped in, because really, what else was he supposed to do? Walk away?
Fuck that.
One detention isn’t the worst- all things considered. Worth it. Unless Regulus decides to murder him, which is a very real possibility.
Oh well.
---
Regulus, not for the first time, contemplates murdering James Potter. Admittedly his interception was helpful and maybe a little necessary, but he doesn’t need to know that. Regulus could’ve handled himself.
Filch assigns them trophy duty, and promptly takes their wands. “Scrub till they shine, you bloody sods.” He tosses some rags at them, and Regulus wrinkles his nose. James catches his.
As soon as the door closes, James turns to him. “Look, Reg, I know you could’ve managed that by yourself, but-”
“Oh, shut it.” Regulus picks up his rag and hands it to James. “We should get started.”
James watches him with wide eyes, and Regulus fights to keep looking at him. “But this is your rag?” He holds it up.
“Sorry. You should get started.”
James huffs, and Regulus ignores the spark that ignites in his chest. He doesn’t have time for feelings . He hasn’t so much as acknowledged them for the past 5 years, and he’s not about to start now. “That’s hardly fair,” James starts.
“Who got us into this mess?”
“Well, technically-”
“Technically, you should get started because you’re wasting time.”
“You’re such a Slytherin.”
Regulus just smirks, taking a seat against the far wall. James grabs his first trophy. “You should know, I’m pro at polishing trophies.”
“Get detention that often, do you?”
“I was going to say I win a lot.”
Regulus pulls his bag over to him, leafing through it and pulling out Slytherin’s journal. He nicked it from the room in the Chamber. He asked the Basilisk first, of course, but he needed more time than he had previously to read it.
“What’s that?” James watches him.
“Nothing. A book.”
“Alright.” He goes back to polishing.
Use a protection potion to ward against spirits and unwanted visitors in your body… all intrusive beings will be blocked, not killed… spirits and ghosts will be unable to possess you after taking the potion…
Regulus looks up, furrowing his brow. James is humming, cross legged and bent over the trophy in his lap. His dark brown curls, wild as ever, brush over his eyes gently. He’s focused intently on his task. Regulus' chest feels tense, as if something is rapidly outgrowing his ribcage. His breath catches in his throat, fingers tightening on the book resting against his knees. He tries to shove it down, but then James traps his tongue between his teeth, scrubbing at a particular spot on the shining silver. His lips are pink and slightly wet, white teeth digging in just a little. Regulus can’t take his eyes off his mouth. What would James do? What would he think? If Regulus put down his book, walked over, knelt in front of him, grabbed his chin and-
James looks up, eye’s instantly meeting his. “What?”
Regulus takes a sharp breath. “Nothing.” He looks back at the page. “You missed a spot.”
He feels more than sees James’s grin.
For a potion of protection, use wartcap powder instead of salamander blood. The blood is too thick and will mess with the bursting mushrooms.
“James?”
James’s head whips up at his name. “Yeah?”
“Have we tried wartcap powder? In the catalyst?”
“I don’t think so. No. Should we?”
Regulus chews his cheek, lost in thought. “Might be a good idea. It has protection properties, but I’m not sure…”
“Sounds like it’s worth a shot.”
“Ok. We’ll add it.”
James sits back, cocks his head. “Did that book give you the idea?”
“Maybe.” Instinctively, Regulus shuts the journal.
“Hm. Care to share with the class?”
“I’m still mad at you.”
James smiles. “Oh, right. I forgot.” He stands up, stretching to put the trophy back on the highest shelf. His shirt rides up a bit, and Regulus' stomach flips. There’s a scar, relatively skinny but still noticeable, stretched across part of his side. It doesn’t look old.
“Is that from the night I ran into you covered in blood?” The question’s out before Regulus can stop it.
James looks confused for a moment, then follows Regulus’s gaze. “Oh. Yeah. It is. It doesn’t hurt anymore though. It’s healed.”
“Still not going to tell me what happened?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.”
Protection potions can be difficult to get right… Godric messed his up and spent a week with purple hair. Avoid crushing the unicorn horn directly, instead grinding it.
It was the first mention of Gryffindor in the entire journal.
James throws down his rag and moves to sit next to him. “I’m taking a break.”
Regulus puts the journal down and to the side. “Fine. Though, I don’t want to be in here forever.”
“You could consider helping.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, there you go.”
Regulus squints at him. “Again, you’re the one who-”
“I still don’t understand why you were even talking to him.” There’s a hint of anger in James’s tone, and Regulus relishes in it.
“Because he’s the headmaster.”
“He- he literally spiked your tea, Reg.”
“I’m aware.”
“I just… why aren't you more angry?” James stares at him, and Regulus can see his reflection in his glasses.
He snorts. “What, when she wants to know something, do you think our Mother just takes our word for it? ” He shakes his head. “I’m used to it. And anyway, I never trusted him to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a let down.”
“But still, his job is to make sure you’re safe. You weren't safe. He- he… he failed.”
“I- no. Nevermind.”
James furrows his brow. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”
Regulus just shakes his head. He shouldn’t have spoken so easily.
James nudges his thigh with his knee. “Reg?”
“I just-” He stops to take a shuddering breath, ignoring the blush climbing his neck. “I was going to say that- I was safe. Relatively speaking.”
“What?”
“Because- because I got out of his office.”
“Because…”
“Because I was with you.” Regulus looks away sharply, desperately wishing he could go dig a hole and bury himself in it. He’d rather choke on dark, damp dirt than have to face James right now. He can feel his eyes on him, and Regulus can’t help the way his heart jumps.
His mother would be so disappointed in him.
He closes a hand into a fist.
When he does look at him, he can’t read James’s expression. His eyes are chocolate, deep, staring not at but into Regulus. Through him. James takes a small breath, then opens his mouth. “I-”
The door slams open. Sirius bursts through, whipping off the invisibility cloak. “Prongs. You’re needed for prank planning.” He doesn’t spare a glance at Regulus.
“The trophies-”
Sirius pulls out his wand and waves it quickly, muttering a spell and watching as the rest of the trophies start to shine. “Finished. Ok, grab your stuff and tell Filch you're done. Come on, Mrs. Norris is right behind me. She’s gonna be here any second.”
James nods, grabbing his bag and standing up. He follows Sirius out, looking over his shoulder at the last minute. James’s eyes find Regulus’s, and they catch for a moment. He pauses.
Everything holds still.
And then, in a flurry of invisibility cloaks and whispers, he’s gone, and Regulus is alone on the ground, knees tucked to his chest, forcing himself to breathe.
Fuck.