The Shack
Beneath his feet, the ice tears and snow kicks up behind him. James is running, fast, tripping across the grounds towards the willow. The air bites at his face, his hands, his lips. His breath- what’s left of it anyway- crystallizes into a cloud in front of him before he smashes through it.
There are tears somewhere, ready, but he doesn’t have time for that right now. Not when the panic in his chest is all consuming; choking and strangling him from the inside out. Any tears he might’ve shed freeze before they can fall.
Part of him is still laughing, still giddy at his stupidity. It’s a prank, he thinks, he knows , embarrassed for reacting so strongly. Sirius is just pranking him. He didn’t actually do it. He would never actually do it. James is going to get to the shack and find Remus and Pete laughing, in on it, Snape obliviously tucked in his bed back in the dungeons.
But there are three sets of footprints where there should be two- and the look on Sirius’s face, the grin that seemed not so much forced as instinctual , keeps his feet moving. Keeps his heart pounding and his lungs aching. The snow, more hail than flakes now, feels like bullets against his skin. He wonders if it’s blood or tears running down his cheeks before he decides it doesn’t matter.
His foot catches and he stumbles and falls, landing hard in the ice. It's cold and bitter and it aches - and then James is back on his feet and moving again.
He reaches the willow and dives for the knot, slamming his palm against it and probably bruising a few knuckles in the process. The roots part and the tunnel opens, and before James can think he throws himself through.
He can hear voices, shouting, yelling. He runs faster. “Remus?” He cries, too scared to care about how desperate he sounds. “Peter?”
“James!” The sound of pure panic lacing Pete’s voice turns James’s world to crumbling ash. It’s a horribly devastating conformation. He doesn’t have time to think about what it means.
He stumbles up the stairs, into the hallway. His blood runs cold at the sight that greets him. Remus is kneeling on the other side of the room, bent over himself, nails digging into his shoulders. He’s going to change- and soon. Peter is standing in the doorway, eyes wide.
Snape is waiting at the top of the stairs, wand drawn and pointed at Remus.
James stumbles to a stop.
“Potter?” Snape hisses, and he sounds scared too.
“James, James-” Remus is gasping, choking, and James chest clenches. “Snape- you have to get him out- I can’t-” He cuts himself off with an agonized cry, doubling over further.
James pulls out his own wand, pointing it at Snape. “You have to leave. Now! Go!”
Snape stumbles back, long black hair swinging. “What’s happening to him? What’s he doing?”
Remus lets out another pained sob, and James knows its starting. “Snape, I'm begging you. Peter- get him out! Why haven't you gotten him out?”
But Pete just shakes his head. “He- he won’t leave. I can’t…”
“Ugh!” James cries out in frustration as Remus tips over, curling into a ball on the floor. Snape moves exactly where James doesn’t want him: into the room.
“What’s going on?” He asks again, nearly terrified. James takes no pleasure in the sound.
And then it happens- Remus’s skin starts to split itself open, fur and teeth ripping through. Snape gives a shocked cry as Remus convulses. “What the fuck? What the fuck is happening to him?” And he’s backing up, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
Remus lets out another cry that turns to a growl halfway through, and James wants to scream. He can’t change into Prongs, not with Snape here, not when he needs to make sure they all get out alive. And Peter’s stuck as Peter- not that he’d do much good as a rat, anyway. Remus does change though, wolfish body trembling and convulsing, starting to flesh itself out. Snape lets out a hoarse laugh. “Is that fucking- is that a wolf? Is it a werewolf?”
And somehow- Merlin knows why- he hasn’t seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation yet. James yanks his arm, nearly begging. “You have to go. Now. We have to leave.”
“But-”
It takes them both by surprise when the werewolf lunges. James has the good sense to throw himself back. Snape does not. He nearly screams when a claw drags across his chest, ripping through his shirt. He hits the back wall of the hallway, throwing a hex at the wolf. Immediately Moony lets out a howl, spurts of blood erupting from his shoulder. James instinctually jumps on Sirius, forcing his wand arm down.
“Don’t-” He gasps, acutely aware of Snape’s warm blood seeping through his shirt.
“Are you bloody mental?” Snape cries. “That- That thing -”
James wheels him around, shoving him towards the stairs. Snape grabs onto his tie and before he knows it James is falling too, tumbling through the air. He lands on his back, hard, wind knocked out of him. For a moment it’s as if all the air has been shoved out of his body, and he’s left silently trembling. Then everything rushes back in and the wolf appears at the top of the stairs. Peter stands behind it, quaking.
Next to him, Snape lies bleeding and unconscious.
James forces himself to his feet, unbalanced and still gripping his wand. The wolf seems to stumble, and for a second James thinks Peter’s cursed it, but another second and he realizes Moony’s doing it to himself. Like something in him’s fighting the wolf- fighting the urge to tear and maim and kill.
James tries to pull Snape up, tries to get him standing, but he’s limp and useless in James’s arms. James curses loudly and looks back up the stairs. “Peter!”
“I don’t know- James, how is he here? How did he know?” Peter’s voice cracks and breaks, his cheeks flushed and pink.
James' stomach twists and he fights the urge to be sick. “It doesn’t matter. I need you to get Snape to the hospital wing. I’ll stay with Moony.”
The wolf crashes into the wall before heading directly for James and Snape. Peter gasps, taking a step back. “Peter!” James cries, holding on tighter to Snape’s useless body.
Pete squeaks, promptly turning into a rat. He slips out from the neck of his sweater and darks between the wolf’s legs, turning back at the bottom of the stairs. He charms on some underwear and grabs Snape, moving quickly.
The wolf lunges again, jaws snapping, and James has no choice but to strike out, hitting it across the face. “Peter, please,” He gasps, and behind him the other boy makes a small sound. “Ok. I’ll- god. Fuck.” He runs back up the tunnel, and James can hear his footbeats on the dirt ground, accompanied by the drag of Snape’s body.
And then it’s just James and the wolf, and a flood of relief nearly overwhelms him. Because he knows how to handle that, at least. This is nothing new.
James turns, feeling his head grow antlers and his senses heighten yet dull at the same time. His emotions become muddled, as if his thoughts are submerged underwater. And yet he can smell everything, see everything, hear everything. Like the Werewolf at the top of the stairs, watching him with gleaming yellow eyes.
James canters up the steps clumsily, nudging the werewolf’s chest with his head, carefully avoiding using his antlers. He’s tired and achy and needs to sleep, and the wolf’s breathing tells him he does as well. James can smell the exhaustion on him, and somewhere buried under it, the shame. He doesn’t dwell on it.
He moves back into the shack, expecting Moony to follow, but he doesn’t. The stag turns and watches as the wolf creeps up the tunnel towards the exit- a shock of alarm running through him at the sight. That’s not right. The wolf shouldn’t go that way. That’s where- that’s who-
But James can’t think except to trot behind the wolf, following it carefully. They get out, into dark moonlight night air, and James can smell blood. He smelt it in the shack too, but it was expected there. Here… not so much.
He huffs and notices little drops of red on the white snow, such a stark contrast that it’d be hard to miss. Moony notices too, letting out a low growl and stalking forward. Prongs skitters in front of him, nudging him towards the woods. There’s humans out here somewhere, bleeding, and all James knows is he can’t let the wolf near them. Eventually Moony goes, albeit hesitantly, towards the woods. The puff of air James lets out turns the air into white shards that hover before dissipating.
It’s going to be a long night.
---
When James finally has the sense to change, Remus is laying on the floor of the shack, close to naked. James feels his antlers recede, feels his form shift, now long used to the odd feeling that sends shivers racking his body and his stomach churning. When he comes to he forces himself to crawl over to his pants, slipping them on clumsily. He turns back to Remus, who’s fully unconscious and bleeding.
His mind stutters to a stop.
What?
What went wrong?
Where was everyone?
What happene-
James lets out a cry, an actual physical cry, when he remembers. He clutches his hands over his mouth and bends over. It all comes rushing back and it hurts.
Everything’s muddled and ugly, and James can’t think clearly. It’s like there’s a hole somewhere in his head and all his thoughts are being pulled towards it, a doomed sort of gravity sending them circling the drain with a disconcerting urgency before vanishing completely, dragged down somewhere James can’t reach right now. And there, amongst the betrayal and the confusion and the hurt, his best friend slips away with them.
And James’s crying now, and trembling, and he has to force himself to move because if he sits here in this pain for another second he’s going to combust. He craws to Remus, hands running helplessly over his bare and scared chest. There’s a cut, aside from the one on his shoulder, stretching from his neck to his cheek. There’s blood, too much to be even close to healthy, dripping from his shoulders and running down his sides.
James pushes against the wound, trying to remember any healing spells that would work on this type of cut. What did Snape do? What sort of curse was this?
Blood seeps between his hands and James’s shaking fingers do their best to draw his wand. With no other option he casts a bandaging charm, watching as thick white gauze wraps around Remus’s shoulder. The blood will soak through. But right now-
Remus stirs with a soft moan, eyelids fluttering. “Sirius?”
Oh.
God.
James shakes his head, doing his best to make soothing noises. “It’s just me, Rem. It’s ok. You’re going to be fine.”
And Remus’s eyes catch on the blood adorning James’s hands, and widen slightly. “I hurt you again. Oh god, I’m so sorry- James-”
There are tears on his lashes and he looks like he’s about to pass out again, and James can’t take it. “No, Remus, I'm fine. I promise. You didn’t hurt me. I need to try something on you, though.” Because already patches of red were showing through Remus’s bandages. He unwinds them and points his wand at the ugly wound.
“S-Snape. Snape was here. James, how was Snape here?”
And because he doesn’t want to answer, because he can’t answer, James mutters a choked “Episkey.”
It nearly does nothing- but the blood stems a bit. It hurts though, and Remus lets out a small sound, deep in his throat, eyes rolling back into his head. He’s knocked out again, and James can’t help feeling better now that he has a bit more time to explain.
He leans over, resting his forehead on Remus’s chest, listening to the slow swell of his breath. It’s comforting, just hearing him breathe. Just hearing him be alive.
“James?”
It’s a small, cracked, pitiful sound, and it comes from the doorway. James doesn’t turn around. Can’t, really, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he has to look at Sirius right now.
“James? Is he- is he alright? Is he hurt?”
“Get out.” It comes out as more of a growl than anything else.
“James-” He can hear Sirius take a step back. “What-”
“Get out. Now.”
“Please, just, is he ok? Is he-”
When James turns, he knows what Sirius'll see. He knows what he looks like, covered in blood and hunched over an unconscious Remus. He knows that the rage in his eyes- the rage he’s never directed at Sirius before- must be overwhelming. Sirius cowers against the far wall, and in all James’s years knowing him, he’s never looked so scared. Not when he showed up at James’s house in the middle of the night. Not even yesterday, when he had to look his parents in the eyes for the first time all year.
It changes nothing.
“Get. Out.”
“James, please,”
“Out.”
He sees the change in Sirius’s face, the way he re-evaluates the extent of the situation. Sirius takes a step, stumbling a bit, before fleeing completely. James hears his footfalls on the stairs and the creak of the wood as he leaves the tree.
James feels more than sees when his tears drip from his chin and land with gentle plops on the floor.
---
Peter and James are by Remus’s side when he wakes up. James has his head in his hands, trying to think.
The hospital wing is silent, the only sound Remus’s gentle breath and Snape’s across from him.
Dumbledore has come in twice and left, James and Peter recounting what happened each time. It was just them now, just them and Snape and Remus.
Until it’s not. The door to the hospital room opens and Sirius enters, Dumbledore behind him. Dumbledore leans down and whispers something to him, then turns to go. Sirius, avoiding James and Pete’s eyes, shuts the door and starts to walk towards them.
“Sirius?” Peter stands up. “Did you actually- why would you-”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispers. “I’m so so sorry and I can’t- I don’t know what to tell you- I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You certainly knew what to tell Snape.” James mutters, refusing to look at him. He keeps his eyes firmly planted on Remus’s sleeping face.
“James, please,”
“Stop.”
“Sirius? James? Pete?” Remus sits up on his elbows, blinking a bit and then staring at them intensely. His voice is still murky with sleep. “What happened?”
He looks around and sees Snape in the bed across from him, and fully raises himself up. “Oh. Oh fuck. I remember- I-” His breathing is starting to escalate now, harsh gasps making him clutch the bed sheets covering his waist. “Is he alright?”
James leans down to clasp his uninjured shoulder. “He’s fine, Moons. Doesn’t deserve to be, absolute git.” He does his best to laugh, but there’s something a little off about it.
Remus holds the blankets tighter. There’s a new scar stretching up his neck and cheek, matching the one across his nose. “How did he know how to get past the tree?”
Neither of them move, absolutely silent. James can feel his heartbeat pressing against his ribs.
He sees it, as Remus puts the pieces together. It wouldn’t be Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey, so it had to be one of them. One of the Marauders. His eyes flick between them, and inexplicably, lands on Peter. “Who-”
Peter’s eyes dim slightly. “I didn’t. I was there with you, remember?”
Remus nods slightly, brows pinching, breath hitching. James knows what's coming but still isn’t prepared when Remus, almost subconsciously, looks to him next. He wipes at his eyes furiously, but the look he gives him must tell Remus all he needs to know. James watches as his face cracks open at the realization. The betrayal and the disbelief and the absolute devastation raw and open for everyone to see. His shoulders are shaking now, and he turns to look at Sirius with a burning fury that makes James want to stand in the way- to protect Sirius or Remus, he’s not sure which.
“Why?” Remus whispers, and Sirius begins to cry, pitiful and graceful as ever.
“Moons I’m so-”
“That’s not my name.”
Sirius lets out a sob. “Remus, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“You didn’t mean to? What the fuck did you mean to do?”
“I didn’t think he’d actually go.”
“Yes, you did.” Remus sneers, still glaring. “Yes, you did.”
“Please-”
“Mr. Black!” Madam Pomfrey bustles out of her office, face stern and rigid. “Mr. Black. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Snape must rest. You are disturbing the quiet.”
Sirius looks up at her, sniffing, and James feels no sympathy. “Can you just wait a second? Please? I’ll go in a second. I just need to talk to him. Just for a moment.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Black. You must go now.”
“Fine. Moony, I’ll find you, I’m sorry-”
“Out, Mr. Black.”
“Ok. Ok, I’m going.” He looks back over his shoulder as he goes. None of them meet his gaze, save Remus, who holds it with a glare. Peter follows him out a second later and Madam Pomfrey disappears back into her office.
James turns to Remus just in time to see him finally break down. He bends over, gripping his sides as he begins to choke, and then to cry. “Why would he…”
James’s heart breaks as he crawls onto the bed next to Remus, wrapping him in his arms, holding him tight as possible. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
He’s shaking into James’s chest, and there’s nothing James can say, can do, except hold his head and let him cry.
When he leaves, Remus is fast asleep and James’s own emotions are starting to crash back into him. The door handle of the hospital wing is rough on his fingers, cutting into them in a way it never used to. He can feel something rising, the feelings he’s been shoving down all night and morning starting to take their revenge. Before he can do anything- vomit, probably- Marlene rounds the corner and stops at the sight of him.
“James?”
He smiles, bright and happy, putting everything back in his place. He can wait to have his breakdown for a little longer. “Hey Marls. What’s up?”
“Sirius and Peter are arguing. What’s going on? Is everything alright?” She crosses her arms, and James waves a hand.
“Eh. it’s just some disagreement around a prank. It’ll blow over soon.” He takes a steadying breath. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She snorts. “If you say so. Jesus. Where you headed?”
James’s brain stumbles to find a suitable answer. “Uh- transfiguration.”
“Right.” She cocks her head at him. “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
“Oh. Yeah. Breakfast then.”
“Mhm.” She laughs. “I have no idea how you’re the top of our class.”
“I’m not,” He says indignantly.
Marlene nods, eyes going wide. “You’re right. Shit, don’t ever tell Lily I just said that.”
“Oh, you know I will.”
“Potter, I swear to god she will murder me-”
“I can’t hear you over the sound of all my good grades!” James grins, holding his hands over his ears and backing away.
Marlene glares at him, but she’s laughing too. “What?”
He just sticks out his tongue at her and turns around, managing to get five paces away before his face crashes down.
It’s fine. He can handle this. He held it together in front of Marlene, didn’t he? He just needs to find a way to put everyone back how they’re supposed to be. It’s what he does best.
He just needs to breathe.
He needs to eat something, probably.
He needs to find a place where he can actually think.
He needs to slow everything down.
He needs to breathe.
He needs-
He-
He needs Regulus.
---
“I just don’t understand,” Barty says again, chewing on the feather of his quill. Regulus wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“We have thirty minutes before breakfast. Why are you doing homework right now?”
Barty rolls his eyes. “Because, Reg, I obviously did not do it yesterday and it is due today. First period, actually. So if you could just explain-”
“I will not be doing that. Get Dorcas to help.”
Across from them, nestled in one of the common room arm chairs, Dorcas just flips a page in her book. “You don’t need it Barty, you have some of the best marks in our year.”
“Not in History of Magic. I fall asleep every time that old geezer starts talking and now he’s assigned these questions and if I could get just a bit of help-”
“No.” Dorcas and Regulus say at the same time.
“Fine.” Barty stands with a huff. “I’m finding Ev. He’d never say no to me.”
“Wonder why,” Dorcas mutters as Barty storms out.
Regulus slumps into the couch where Barty just was, running a hand over his face. He should really visit the Basilisk today, he thinks. It’s been too long. And he has potions, which shouldn’t be difficult but is definitely something he should really be focusing on. His mother reminded him as much when she visited.
“Have you seen Snape?” Mulciber asks suddenly, stiff and awkward in the doorway. Dorcas and Regulus just stare at him, non-responsive. Mulciber shifts. “He just didn’t come back to the dorms and I was just wondering- uh. Nevermind.” He turns to go back to his room, muttering a low “gits” under his breath.
“Have you seen Snape?” Regulus asks, turning to Dorcas. She shakes her head.
“I hope he fell into the bloody black lake.” She sighs, turning back to her book.
“Hm.”
“Reg?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have to leave again today?”
Regulus tips his head back to look at her. “What?”
She closes her book carefully. “It’s for your… mission, I assume. But you go missing, like, a lot, and none of us really know where you go.”
It’s a toss up, really, if she’s talking about the time he spends with James or the Basilisk. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Can you… Can you really not tell us anything?”
He shakes his head. “No.” In all honesty he has no idea, the Dark Lord never mentioned secrecy as a stipulation- but something in him resists the idea of telling his friends about the Basilisk. He likes it when it’s just them, when it’s just his secret. Not that he doesn’t have enough of those.
“Hm. But you’re safe?”
Regulus gives her a small smile and a nod. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Barty wants to follow you.”
“Tell him that’s an awful idea and I’ll know if he tries it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Already did. Don’t worry.”
“Good.” He goes back to studying the ceiling and she goes back to her book.
“When will you be done?” She asks a few minutes later.
Regulus has to think about that. “I’m not sure. Before the end of the year, definitely.” He doesn't like to dwell on that bit.
“And after?”
He goes still. “What?”
“What do you do after you succeed? You take the Mark?”
He steals himself, because this is what he was trained for. Raised for. “If that’s what the Dark Lord wishes.”
“And then what? After the Mark?”
Regulus holds her gaze. “If the Dark Lord wishes.” He repeats softly.
She nods, understanding. “Whatever it takes?” she whispers.
During their 3rd year, Dorcas and Regulus had snuck off during dinner to lay under a tree on the lawns. The evening sun had streamed through the leaves, dappling their features in streaks of warm orange glow. Everything was quiet, all the other kids back inside eating.
“There’s going to be a war soon,” Dorcas had said, staring up at the sky.
“I know.”
“My parents said they won’t make me do anything. They want to stay out of it as much as possible.”
Regulus thought that for a minute. “I don’t think my parents are going to stay out of it. They’re already trying to get Sirius to join the Dark Lord. He doesn’t want to.”
“Do you want to?”
Regulus twirled some grass around his finger, relishing in the feeling of actual dirt. He’d been scrubbed clean for far too long. “I don’t know. I don’t care, really.”
Dorcas turned to look at him, her braids falling across her face. “What do you mean you don’t care? You have to have an opinion, one way or another.”
Regulus shook his head, stubborn like his brother. “No. I don’t. I just- I want to make it to the other side. I want to come out of this war with Sirius and I alive. That’s all.”
Dorcas furrowed her brow. “You think- you think you won’t? You think you’ll be in danger?”
Regulus frowned, digging his fingers deeper into the dirt. “That’s what Sirius says. I don’t care who’s side we end up on as long as it’s the one that wins.”
“He said that?”
“Oh, no.” Regulus let out a bitter little laugh. “No. He has opinions. Strong ones, that he’ll fight for. Die for, probably.”
“So it’s you then.”
“I’m the Slytherin, aren’t I? I’m the coward. Not him.”
Dorcas huffed. “I just think Gryfindors are brave. I don’t think that makes Slytherins cowards.”
“He does.”
“So when it comes time to choose a side, what will you do? Which will you pick?”
“Whichever gets me to the end of this alive. I’ll do whatever they need me to.”
“Whatever it takes?” Dorcas asked then.
Regulus nodded decisively. “Whatever it takes.”
Dorcas hummed then, looking up at the tree. “Good.”
Back in the common room, Regulus just holds her eyes. They’re older now, but she still wears braids. He’s still stubborn as his brother. “Yes.”
“I’ll help, if you need me to.”
“I know. I’ll ask.”
She just chuckles. “No you won’t.”
Regulus feels the corners of his lips twitch. “Let’s go to breakfast.”
---
There’s something off, and Regulus senses it the second he glances at the Gryfindor table. For one- his brother’s sitting alone. Which, for a social butterfly like himself, is odd enough. But Lupin is missing and Pettigrew is picking at his food and James- well. James is a different matter altogether.
He’s laughing at something Evans said- which would normally make Regulus sullen and jealous, but there’s something rigid in the lines of his shoulders that doesn’t quite sit right. One hand is on his fork and the other is under the table, gripping his leg so hard Regulus can see his arm shaking from all the way over here. A drop of concern worms its way into Regulus’s gut. He needs to talk to him.
He finishes breakfast quickly, not really eating much, and walks around past the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. He comes up next to the Gryfindor table and keeps his chin up, staring straight ahead. No one pays him any mind. Yet as he passes he lets his hand graze James’s back- just a little. Just enough to get his attention.
He pauses at the door to the Great Hall and finds James already watching him. He meets his eyes and nods his head, just slightly, at the corridor beyond. As predicted James mutters something Regulus can’t hear and stands up. Regulus takes his cue and leaves, heading to the Come and Go room.
It doesn’t take long for James to find him.
Regulus turns as the door shuts, taking in James’s appearance. He looks tired. No, he looks exhausted, heavy lidded eyes red and baggy. He meets Regulus’s eyes with a small forced smile.
“Hey, Love,” He whispers and his voice cracks.
Regulus immediately moves towards him, studying his face carefully. He runs a hand over his arm and shoulders, before moving up to cup his cheek. “What's wrong?”
James shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Regulus sends him a look. “James.”
“I can’t- I’m fine.”
But he’s not, and it’s so obvious that Regulus wonders why James is even making the effort. “If I’m not allowed to use my Glamour around you, you aren’t allowed to hide.” Regulus runs a thumb under James’s eye, over his cheekbone. He looks like he’s been crying. James sinks into the touch, and Regulus lets out a soft breath. A thought strikes him. “Is your father ok?”
“Yeah,” James nods.
He moves to the couch and sinks down, and after a second Regulus joins him. That’s always how these little meetings seem to go, he realizes. One of them comforting the other. One of them putting the other back together.
He runs his fingers through James’s hair, reveling at it’s softness. It hurts him sometimes, physically hurts him, how much he feels when James is around. How much he’s let him invade his life. It’s vulnerable and terrifying.
James makes a small sound and tips into him, burying his head into Regulus’s shoulder. And Regulus- Regulus doesn’t know what to do with that. When his father got sick, James was devastated, obviously. But there was a hopefulness to it as well, a burn that kept him moving. He used his hurt to fuel his drive. But now, James isn’t hopeful. He’s just tired and dejected and all too sad , and Regulus is left confused. He frowns and pulls James into him, running his fingers lightly over the other boy’s back.
“We have class soon,” James whispers into his shirt.
Regulus shakes his head softly. “I don’t care.” He’ll bow down to his parents over many things, but not this. Not James. He can miss a few classes.
James wraps his arms around Regulus’s torso and takes a shaky breath. “Sorry.”
Regulus just traces another pattern onto James’s back and doesn’t dignify the apology with a response.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” He murmurs. “But if you want to- I mean- I guess I’m here.”
James lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re so good at emotional conversations.”
Regulus frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
James just hugs him tighter. “Thank you. It’s fine. I’m over reacting. It’s just- it’s Sirius.”
Regulus goes rigid and knows James feels it. “What did he do?”
And for once, James doesn’t try to defend his best friend or convince Regulus it was nothing that bad. “I can’t tell you. But fuck, Reg, I’m so angry-”
“Did he hurt you?”
“N-no. Not really. Not me.”
Regulus frowns and pulls James back so he can look at him. James pouts a little at the loss of contact but goes willingly. “Lupin.” It’s not a question, and he sees the conformation in James’s face. He nods after a moment.
“Yeah.” he sighs. “Lupin.”
“Was it bad?” Regulus asks, though he knows the answer to that question as well. Of course it was. In all his years at Hogwarts he’d never seen James and Sirius separated, not really. But this- this was different. This was bad .
“I can’t look at him,” James hisses. “I can’t look at him without wanting to hit him, which is so awful, I know how awful that is, especially with Sirius. But I can’t- I don’t know how to deal with what he did.”
Regulus nods, deep in thought. “If you can’t tell me what he did can you tell me why? He and Lupin… they seemed…”
“Close.” James finishes and Regulus nods. “They are. Were. I don’t know.” He runs a hand over his face. “I don’t know why he did it. I don't think he knows why he did it. Your parents showed up and I think- I think he just freaked out.”
And for some reason that makes Regulus furious. “Of course.” he mutters, glaring at the wall over James’s shoulder. “Naturally.”
“I don’t blame him for that, for freaking out. But I can’t defend what he did, and now I don’t know how to deal with it.”
“It’s not your job,” Regulus says, looking back at him. “To deal with it.”
James laughs and wipes at his eyes. “But it is. No one else will.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
James just shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’m just- lost.”
“Do you want me to hit him? I will, you know.”
“Ha. No. Somehow I don’t think that will help.”
But Regulus can already feel himself adding this to his list of excuses for hating Sirius Black. He made James cry- and that was reason enough to outright murder him. Long familiar anger begins to burn cold under his skin.
“He can’t do this,” Regulus whispers, brushing James’s curls away from his forehead. “He can’t go through the world like this, tearing up everything in his path. I won’t let him.”
James laughs softly. “If anyone could stop him, it’d be you. Or-” He cuts himself off as his smile drops slowly.
“Lupin.” Regulus finishes for him.
“Er- yeah. He is the only person I’ve ever seen make Sirius calmer. You could kill him but Remus is the only one who can tame him.” James studies his hands. “Merlin.”
Regulus nods. “Well. If he comes back to the dorm tonight with a black eye, don’t be surprised.”
James chuckles and rubs his eyes. Regulus catches his wrist. “Have you slept?”
“No. I’ve been up all night with- dealing with this.” James looks exhausted. Ah. So it was an overnight adventure, then. More pieces of the Remus Lupin puzzle click together in Regulus’s head.
“You should go back to your dorm to sleep. Take a sick day.”
“I can’t. I have to be there for Remus. He got the worst of it, and I need to contain the fallout.”
“Where is Lupin? I didn’t see him at breakfast.”
“Oh. Hospital wing.”
Regulus snaps his head to look at him. “What?” he hisses. When James said Sirius hurt him, he didn’t think- he didn’t mean- “He put him in the hospital wing?”
James looks panicked for a second. “Oh! No. No. Well. Kind of. I mean he wouldn’t be there if it weren't for Sirius but… he didn’t put him there.”
Regulus cocks his head at James, thinking. Studying. Gathering what information he knows and trying to form it into a cohesive idea. “Is this a regular thing? Lupin in the hospital wing?”
And at that, James’s face shuts down, which confirms Regulus’s theories. “I…”
“It’s ok. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Merlin, Reg… I don’t know how I got by for six years without this.” His hands finds Regulus’s waist over his shirt, pulling him closer. A tingle goes up Regulus’s spine at the pressure. “I knew you’d help,” James whispers against his lips. “Knew I just needed to do this.”
James leans back till he’s lying on the couch with his head on the arm rest, the hand on Regulus’s waist pulling him with him, over him. Regulus is left straddling his hips, one hand bracing himself on the cushions, staring at James’s wide eyes. He leans down and captures James’s lips in another kiss, this one bruising and desperate. “Say the word, James, and I’ll give him a good burn or a permanent pig’s tail or something.”
James chuckles and pulls him down further, till their chests are pressed together. Regulus has no choice but to settle against James’s hips, the warmth of his body seeping into every part of him. “You’re hot when you’re vengeful.”
Regulus blushes then, pink and flushed. James kisses him again. “And cute when you’re flustered.”
Regulus can do nothing but kiss him back.
---
Regulus makes it out of the Come and Go room in time for Charms, which is on the other side of the castle. He gets there right on time. Regulus is either there or not there, but he’s never late. He slides into his seat next to Evan about 30 seconds before Professor Flitwick enters.
“Where’d you go?” Evan hisses. Regulus just shakes his head, staying quiet.
Flitwick bustles up to the head of the room, usually squeaky voice especially reedy today. “We will be working on our essays for class today. As you all know, I don’t normally allow class time to work on projects, so I suggest you all make good use of this gift. Well. Off you pop!”
Regulus pulls out his parchment, glancing around. Snape wasn’t in his usual seat- or there at all, actually. He thinks back to Mulciber in the common room. “Have you seen Snape?” He asks Evan softly.
Evan shakes his head. “Mulciber was asking around earlier but neither me nor Barty have seen him all day.”
“You helped Barty with his homework then?”
Evan looks down. “Barely. He knew it already, of course, just had to be reminded.”
Regulus nods, unfolding his parchment. “That seems to be the way it goes with him.”
“He’s smart, you know.” Evan says, not quite meeting his eye. “Smarter than we give him credit for, I think.”
Regulus looks at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “You’re right.”
“I don’t think he knows it either- how smart he is. His Dad certainly doesn’t tell him.”
Regulus lets out a little breath, pulling out his ink and quill. “Is he staying at yours or going home for Easter break?”
“I think he’s coming over for the second week. I’m not sure about the rest, but I think his dad’ll insist on him being home for at least some of it. I wish- I don’t know. Nevermind.”
Regulus thinks about all the times Barty's showed up with bruises and another angry story. “Maybe he’ll stop fighting back.”
“That's the worst thing he could do.” Evan says, shaking his head, frustrated. “He’s so proud of what he’s doing- how much he’s managing to rebel against his father’s wishes. It’s- I don’t know. It’s who he is, I guess.”
“Mm.” Regulus stops writing for a second, re-dipping his quill. “He brings it on himself, though. If he just went along with what his father wanted he wouldn’t get hurt so often.”
Evan levels him with a cold stare, accusatory and mean. “Wouldn’t he?”
The words twist Regulus’s stomach with an ugly clench.
He meets Evan’s gaze. “Careful.”
“I’m just saying, Reg, I know you hide it but sometimes I think-”
“Evan.”
Evan sighs, taking the warning for what it is. “Sorry. I… ignore me. I just wish he didn’t have to… I don’t know. Nevermind.”
“His dad told him he wouldn’t get any outstandings on his OWLs.” Regulus starts; a peace offering. “I don’t think it’ll be enough for him to actually study but he might try for once.”
Evan snorts. “Good.” After another minute of silent writing, he looks up again. “What class do you have next? Do you want to skip?”
Regulus hums. “Astronomy. And no, I can’t miss any classes right now. Besides, Astronomy is rather interesting.”
“You could literally run circles around anyone in that class, I guarantee it.”
“Yes, well, it's an easy 100. Can I borrow your tie clip?”
Evan gives him a curious look but immediately slides it off and hands it to Regulus. “May I ask why?”
Regulus shrugs and fastens it to his own tie. “Forgot mine. You’ll get it back.”
“I better.”
When Flitwick passes by again, they each have half their essays done. The bell rings shortly after.
When Regulus makes it to Astronomy, he half expects Remus not to show up. He’s pleasantly surprised when the door opens and a very tired looking Lupin drags himself through.
There's a new scar stretching up his neck and cheek, and Regulus studies it carefully. Sirius wouldn’t do that, he thinks. Not to Lupin. Not after what their parents did to him. No matter what James says- that had to be something else. The timing’s too coincidental for something unrelated, though.
Regulus says nothing as Remus takes his spot at the telescope next to him. Remus sends him a look out of the corner of his eye. “What?”
“Your face.” Regulus inclines his head.
Remus looks back out the window, sullen. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How?”
“It’s-” Lupin looks like he’s struggling to find the words. “It’s a family thing.”
“Your family or mine?”
And for a second Remus just stares at him, eyes hard and unwavering. “How-”
“Good morning, my children.” Professor Sinistra strides in with a graceful tilt of her head. “We will be having a group discussion about the correlation between stars and dreams. Did everyone bring their dream journals? We will be comparing them to the tracking charts we’ve been working on.”
Regulus doesn’t look at Lupin as he takes out his journal, but he can feel the other boy’s eyes on him. “Can I borrow a quill?”
Remus hesitantly hands him one and stays quiet. They don’t talk. The discussion stretches on and becomes nothing productive.
At the end of class, right before the bell rings, Lupin turns to him. “What did Sirius tell you?” There's a hint of fear lingering haunting his tone.
“Me and Sirius haven’t spoken,” Regulus answers honestly. “I don’t know anything.” Less honest. “Do you want your quill back?”
“What? Oh- er, yeah. Thanks.”
Regulus holds out his hand and watches with satisfaction as Remus takes what in fact isn’t his quill and is Evans' tie clip. Lupin immediately hisses in pain and drops the clip, eyes going wide at the tingy sound it makes when it hits the floor.
Silver.
Regulus stares at him, puzzle pieces all finally clicking into place. The look on Remus’s face that night in the library, when the book had begun to howl. The scars littering his body- a new one each month, it seemed. His unnatural and strange obsession with the moon. Regular visits to the Hospital Wing. And finally- a silver tie clip, laying still and all-telling on the floor. Regulus cocks his head, smirking.
Lupin drops his hands to his sides, breathing labored. “I-”
“Don’t worry about it.” Regulus reaches down and grabs the tie clip. “I thought that was your quill, my mistake.” He holds out Remus’s actual quill, watching expectantly as he stumbles to find something to say.
“I- it’s not-”
“Take the quill, Lupin. It’s not silver, don’t worry.”
Remus lets out a choked breath and takes it from Regulus, turning to put it in his bag. Regulus swings his own over his shoulder and smiles slightly at Lupin’s panic. “I’m not going to tell. Stop hyperventilating.”
“Regulus, please-”
He leaves Lupin standing frozen to the spot as he walks out.
---
The Basilisk turns in small circles. For once, they’re out in the actual chamber, not Slytherin’s room. Werewolves?
Yes. What do you know?
Hm. The Basilisk does another circle. They’re old creatures. Not as old as Basilisks, maybe, but as long as there’ve been humans there've been werewolves. My master told me about them.
Regulus stretches his legs out in front of him where he sits. I think there’s one here. At school. A student.
I wouldn’t be surprised. Dumbledore never did seem to have his students' safety in mind.
Regulus shakes his head. I don’t think he’s… unsafe, exactly. Not to others. To himself, maybe.
That still counts. The Basilisk settles down finally, placing her large head right in front of Regulus, releasing a huff of hot air.
Regulus tentatively reaches out a hand, letting the Basilisk smell it. Carefully he runs his hand down her cheek, over her scar. Isn’t it funny that such different things can hurt people in such similar ways? There’s no difference, he thinks, between the cut on the Basilisk’s face, the long-healed one on his, and the new one on Lupin’s. They all bear their pain in different ways; Regulus covers his, the Basilisk refuses to talk about it and Lupin- well. Lupin has no choice but to show the world. There’s nowhere for him to hide. No matter how hard you might try, it’s impossible to run from your own face. So Lupin just… doesn’t. It’s a part of him now, crusted on with violence and anger and from what Regulus can tell, years of rage. He finds himself a little bit jealous, envious of the ability to turn pain into sharp teeth to bear when the world comes too close. He doesn’t have that privilege and never will, probably.
He gently strokes the Basilisk’s head, marveling at her patience. She really is quite beautiful, he thinks. Her green skin glistens slightly under the light. And not for the first time, Regulus finds himself aching and hollow.
“Je suis désolé,” He whispers in French, bending over to keep stroking between her swollen-shut eyes. “Comment vais-je te faire du mal?”
Mercifully, the Basilisk doesn’t respond, and neither of them say anything else for the rest of his visit.