Cold
“Regulus. Regulus, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”
There are hands on him again. Evan’s hands. Running over his shoulders and back, pushing his hair away from his face.
Don’t, Regulus wants to warn him. Don’t touch me. You’ll get her blood on you. It’ll stain.
Can’t you tell?
“Regulus. Shit. Look at me, alright? You’re freaking me out.”
The bathroom floor seems to sway underneath him, tiles undulating and rising like waves. He leans into the wall, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Silently, he closes his eyes, letting everything melt away. It does, gradually, Evan’s hands and words, the bathroom’s cold tile and all he’s done slipping into the black behind his closed lids.
In the darkness, something inside himself clicks into place.
---
Remus finds him on the Quidditch pitch, to no one’s surprise. He’s bent over, putting away balls and supplies while the rest of his team heads to the locker room. Remus takes a breath.
“Sirius.”
Sirius looks up, eyes glimmering. “Moons!”
He shuts the trunk of balls, latching it one final time. Then, dusting off his hands on his thighs, he walks over.
“What are you doing here? I thought you hated the quidditch pitch.”
He’s not wrong. “Yeah, well. You didn’t show up for lunch and were supposed to work on our final transfiguration essays before dinner so I thought I’d come find you. If you’re busy…” He trails off and looks away, throat tight.
Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, I’m free. After I put this chest away, I’m all yours.”
Ha.
“Actually, I did want to find you.” Sirius takes a step towards him. “You’re coming over for a week this summer, right?”
Remus stiffens. He’s done his best, he really has, to forgive Sirius. To move on. But the weight of what he did has settled over them, an inescapable blanket that threatens to smother them the second a silence stretches too long. “I…”
Sirius reaches out and grabs Remus's wrist, effectively shutting him up. “Please? We all want you to.”
Remus's brain blanks out for a second, because Sirius is still touching him and Remus is a weak man. “Would… would Monty mind? I don’t want to stress him out more.”
Sirius glances down, expression souring. For some ungodly reason, he doesn’t take his hand off Remuss wrist. “I don’t think you would.”
Remus leans forward unconsciously. “What was that look? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But Sirius is still wearing that expression- and besides, Remus knows him too well by now.
“Sirius.”
“It’s just- I don’t know if James wants me to tell you, but Monty had us sign his will when we went home last weekend. And, I’m sure it’s nothing, it’s just…”
“Scary?”
Sirius nods, looking down. He finally lets go of Remuss wrist, and maybe it’s wishful thinking but Remus could swear he drags his thumb along the bare skin before he does. “Yeah.”
Remus thinks about Regulus’s cure, which till now he believed to be working. “How’s James doing? I’m surprised he never mentioned that.”
Sirius’s eyes glitter. “Do you ever get the feeling there are a lot of things James just doesn’t mention?”
Remus’s gut tightens. “...I’m not sure.”
“He’s been weird lately, no?”
“He just seems like James to me.”
Sirius shakes his head but says nothing on the matter. “Anyway. Come see us this summer. Say you will.”
“Sirius…”
“Look, I-“ Sirius cuts himself off with frustrated huff. “I need a distraction. From Monty, and the will. And you… I just… I need you to be there, Moons. Alright? Please?”
Remus takes a breath. “Yeah. Ok. For you.”
At the words, Sirius’s eyes flick up to meet his. There’s a moment of silence, the wind playing with the ends of Sirius’s hair. “Really?” He finally asks.
“Course, Pads,” Remus sighs, closing his eyes. “I’ll come. But I don’t want to just be a distraction from whatever’s going on with Monty. I think that’s something you should face. You know, talk about.”
“Moony giving emotional advice?” Sirius raises a brow. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Remus waved his hand and Sirius laughs, a bright clear sound. Remus digs the toe of his shoe into the grass. “Did he say why Monty was signing a will? I thought he was getting better.”
“Me too.” Sirius frowns. “Or- maybe he still is. I don’t know.”
“Then why the will?”
Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He says again.
“And James is… fine with all this?”
Sirius sinks to the ground in a squat. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He wouldn’t tell me if he wasn’t. You know that.”
Remus stares down at him before lowering himself down as well. “You two are close, though. You talk about things.”
Except what he does with your brother , Remus thinks.
“Not really. I mean yeah, I guess, but like… I talk to him, you know? I tell him stuff and he…” Sirius trails off, staring down. “He listens.”
Remus hesitates. “So you haven’t talked about Monty?”
Sirius plucks a piece of grass. “A little,” he says after a long moment.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the will?” Remus asks.
“I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t know if you’d care.”
Remus blinks at him. “Of course I’d care. What? Why wouldn’t I?”
Sirius shrugs, staying silent. Remus touches his shoulder, and the contact nearly burns his skin. He resists the urge to press into him harder. “Course I’d care, Siri. For you and James and Monty. Of course I’d care. Just because… just because you… of course I’d care.”
Sirius stares at him, eyes wide. “Siri?”
Remus stalls. “What?”
“You called me Siri. You haven’t done that before.”
Hadn’t he? It had come so naturally. “I swear I have. We all have.”
Sirius shakes his head, his pupils blown. “Not really, Moons. Just you. Just now.”
Remus fidgets, uncomfortable. Was it really that big of a deal? “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it, from you.”
From you.
“Er. Right.” Remus scrubs a hand over his face. He’s flushed again. “Anyway, how’d it go?”
“The weird thing is, Monty… um. Monty left me in his will.”
Remus cocks his head. “Why is that weird?”
“You sound like James.”
“Sirius-“
Before he can finish his sentence, something tears past him, a flash of yellow darting into the middle of the green. It’s a kid, Remus realizes. A fifth year Hufflepuff. Barney Hoff.
“What-“
A curse shoots by Remuss ear and he jumps back. Whirling around, he finds Barty Crouch and his posse stalking towards them. “Hoff!”
Sirius jumps up, grabbing his wand. “What the fuck-“
“You think we forgot, did you?” Barty’s eyes are the same as always: wild and unfocused.
Sirius’s eyebrows furrow and Remus turns to mutter softly. “Barney Hoff. He was the one who got in a fight with the Slytherins after the last lockdown.”
Sirius shakes his head. “They might seriously hurt him.”
Remus feels his lips tighten. “Let’s stop them, then.”
“Oi, Crouch,” Sirius calls across the field. “Leave the kid alone.”
Bartys gaze flicks to his. “The fuck did you say, Black?”
Remus looks behind him to where Regulus is standing with his arms crossed. His usually blank expression is ice cold, eyes sharp.
“Whatever you’re upset about happened a week ago. Get over it.”
Barty grins. “I don’t think I want to. But then again, it wasn’t me he tried to curse. So Reg, what do you think? Do you think we should get over it?”
“No,” Regulus drawls. He cocks his head, tone dangerous. “I don’t quite think I’m ready for that yet.”
Next to Remus, Sirius takes a breath.
“Listen- I didn’t mean to make it into a whole thing-“ Barney takes a step back, hands raised.
“Shut up,” Regulus cuts him off, voice sharp.
Remus’s resolve wavers. There’s something off about this. About Regulus. His eyes are just slightly wrong. Too mean.
“Turn around and walk away. Let him be.” Remus frowns. “Don’t start something.”
“Why?” Rosier asks. “Don’t wanna join in, Lupin? Afraid to get your hands dirty?”
“Where’s James?” Remus whispers, but Sirius just shakes his head.
“We’re wasting time.” Regulus uncrosses his arms, grabbing his wand. “Stop talking.”
For some reason, Rosier goes quiet, taking a step back and nodding.
“Reg, put your wand away.” Sirius leans into Remus slightly.
Regulus’s gaze finds his, eyes narrowing. “ I said stop talking.”
There’s a burning fury there that surpasses Barney Hoff. Something else. Something deeper.
“Wait-“ Sirius starts.
Regulus sends the first curse.
—-
Regulus is cold.
Inside and out, he’s cold.
The injustice, the unfairness of it all surges through him. It takes the shape of anger, icy fury, a destruction that begs to take and take until there’s nothing left to consume.
Barney Hoff is a good enough outlet, Regulus figures. No one cares what happens to Barney Hoff.
Regulus certainly doesn’t.
The fifth year falls to his knees, panting. There’s a nasty rash spreading rapidly across the right side of his body, painful boils that threaten to overwhelm him- the result of Regulus’s perfectly aimed curse.
It feels, if not good, satisfactory. It feels right.
Regardless, a wave of nausea sends his stomach rolling.
“Stop!” Sirius darts forward, hands outstretched in front of Hoff. “Regulus, leave the kid-“
He’s just an obstacle, really. That’s all. Something in the way. Something to be removed.
Regulus flicks his wand and Sirius seizes up, going completely stiff. Wordlessly, he topples over. Lupin’s wand starts to move, but Regulus can’t bring himself to care.
The urge to fight sings in his veins, egging him on. Violence feels good beneath his fingertips. It’s almost a familiar comfort at this point: it reminds him of home.
He should probably look into that.
Regulus steps forward, raising his wand. Hoff’s under him, weak and unprotected, and Regulus could hurt him with a flick of his wrist. Hurt him like he hurt Sirius. Hurt him like he hurt Saskia.
He could make Hoff pay for Regulus’s mistakes.
It would be so easy.
Then a curse spirals past him and hits Hoff in the chest. His eyes roll back and the other boy slumps over, knocked unconscious.
Regulus wheels around as Evan lowers his wand, swallowing thickly. Regulus narrows his eyes. “Why would you do that?”
Evan shifts. “I’m just helping out, Reg.”
He looks scared, Regulus realizes.
Barty smirks. “Doesn’t mean we still can’t have some fun.”
At that the Gryfindors spring into action, Lupin yanking Sirius off the ground and shoving him on to his feet, evidently having cast the counter curse to the stunning charm.
“Regulus, what the fuck are you doing?” Sirius coughs as Remus kneels to check on Barney.
Regulus ignores him. He can’t even look in Sirius’s direction right now. Even hearing his voice makes Regulus want to scream.
Do you know what I did? He thinks. Do you know what I did for you?
The thought makes him want to rip through his own skin and ribs, spearing his fingernails through bloody flesh. He wants to hurt. He wants to feel it. But he can’t, because he still has a task to complete. He still has a purpose. He isn’t done yet.
So he’ll just have to hurt someone else instead.
But Barney Hoff is still unconscious and Lupin is still curled over him. And as much as Regulus doesn’t care, he knows James will. He can’t hurt his friends. James would forgive Regulus for a lot of things, but not this.
He lowers his wand, hand shaking. Barty’s somewhere behind him and Sirius is still watching him with wide eyes. “Reg…” his brother whispers, and Regulus cuts his gaze to him.
“What?”
“Why…” Sirius trails off, still staring. “What happened?”
Every cell in Regulus’s body retaliates, locking down. He goes stiff, stepping back. Anger burns through him, furious and scalding. Of course Sirius can tell. Of course he knows.
“Nothing.”
How cruel to reduce it to that.
“Reg, I think we should go.” Evan says with a lazy wave of his hand. “Unless we want to deal with this, which I’d be more than happy to do, I’m sure our business lies elsewhere.”
Sirius frowns but says nothing. Behind him Barney Hoff begins to stir. The doors to the changing rooms open and Gryfindors start to flood out. James is there, of course. His eyes crinkle when they meet Regulus’s, before sliding down and taking in the whole situation. Lupin crouched over Hoff, Sirius’s eyes wide.
James’s face falls. Regulus doesn’t let himself go soft.
He’s guilty enough as it is- he doesn’t need anything else adding to the burden.
James starts walking over at the same time Regulus turns to go. He just can’t… he just can’t do that. Not yet. Not now. Not when James looks like that and Regulus feels like this.
Barty and Evan follow, because the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black has always commanded at least a little respect.
Someone, probably Sirius or James, calls after him. He ignores them. It’s easy to block them out when the buzzing in his head’s louder than they are.
He makes it back to the common room with Barty and Evan right behind him. He shucks off his cloak and goes to his bed, charming the curtains closed and sitting crisscrossed in the middle of his bedsheet. He thinks he might be sick, but he refuses to go to the toilet. That would be too easy.
He’s been feeling ill for the past day, actually. He’s not giving into it, though. He’s convinced it's a fake sickness, something conjured and imagined so he has a reason to feel sorry for himself.
In other words: he’ll get over it.
His head throbs, and Regulus closes his eyes, gripping the bed sheet. He’s so tired. He should sleep, really. But then again, he hasn’t actually slept since…
Well.
Since Saskia.
He might not be winning the war against his body, he thinks as his palms go sweaty. He lays back against his pillow, turning sideways and closing his eyes.
Sleep finds him eventually, if it can be called that. If anything, Regulus dozes, lost in a haze of headaches and nausea and a burning guilt that surpasses any physical hurt.
Three AM finds Regulus hunched over the toilet bowl, body shaking as he rests his forehead against his forearm. Swallowing, he takes a deep breath and listens to his heartbeat, reflected by the pounding in his head. He forces himself to get up, wipe his mouth, drink some water. When he crawls back into bed, he thinks about the box underneath. The long yellowish fangs, wrapped and ready for delivery. He wonders if Voldemort expects anything else. Perhaps a bow? A hand-written note?
Regulus blames the tears leaking from his eyes on the coughing fit he tries to smother in his pillow.
He’ll get over it.
---
“Tell me again.” James sits forward on the couch, running a hand through his hair. Remus grimaces across from him.
“Crouch started it- I think. I don’t know. Regulus cursed the kid, yeah, but he didn’t- he stopped, when Rosier knocked Hoff out. I think Crouch wanted to keep going, but Regulus stopped. Just turned around and walked away.”
James groans, shutting his eyes tight. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. Hoff was the one that tried to fight them after that last lockdown, but I didn’t think… I mean, I assumed they forgot about that.”
“So did I.” James flexs his fingers. “So what changed, then? Why would Reg…” He trails off, because his throat has gone tight and he doesn’t want to risk his voice breaking.
Again, Remus shrugs. “He looked… wrong, I thought. Really angry and, like, cold.”
“Cold?”
Remus’s lips twist. “Not physically. You know what I mean.”
James does, unfortunately. He pictures Regulus’s eyes when they met on the field yesterday, icy and unforgiving. “Did something happen, then?”
Remus runs a pained hand over his forehead. “That's what Sirius asked too. James, I have to ask, is it possible that he just… is like this sometimes?”
“No.”
“James-”
“He’s fucked up in a lot of ways, Moony, but he’s not- he isn’t cruel.”
Remus’s brows furrow. “He looked plenty cruel when he was cursing Barney Hoff.”
James stands up. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Be car-”
“Don’t.” Maybe it’s mean, but James just can’t handle that right now. “Don’t tell me to be careful. I know him. I know how to talk to him. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt me.”
Remus gives him a long look. “Right. So it only counts if it’s you he’s hurting.”
“No-”
“Then what about Barney Hoff, James? What about Sirius?”
“It’s complicated. He’s complicated.”
Remus raises a brow. “Or you’re complicating it for him.
James shakes his head, turning on his heels. “Tell me when OWLs results come in.”
Remus sighs, dropping back against the armchair. “Sure, Prongs.”
James lets the portrait door shut behind him.
He checks the map first, naturally. Regulus is on the third floor, the little footsteps moving quickly. James makes his way down, stomach twisting itself into knots. What should he do when he sees him? What should he say?
“Hi.”
On the other end of the hall, Regulus looks up sharply. His eyes meet James’s, widening. James has to take a breath. Regulus glances around before walking up to him, arms crossed. He keeps his lips pressed together, staying silent. James clears his throat.
“Hi,” he says again. “Can we talk?”
“Now?” Regulus’s voice is slightly raspy.
James nods uncomfortably. “Now.”
“Fine. I need things from the Come and Go room anyway. Meet me there in five minutes.” Regulus brushes past him, leaving James confused and alone. He turns to watch him go.
“Reg…” He lets his voice trail off, taking a small step after him. Swallowing, James closes his eyes. This is something he can fix. He can make this right. He’s good at taking care of people.
Regulus is no exception.
Five minutes later, the door to the Come and Go room swings open in front of him. James finds Regulus bent over the potions table, carefully tucking things into a bag. When he looks up, the air around his face flickers for a second before settling into place. James blinks then quickly crosses to him, panic rising.
“Reg, was that- was that glamour? I thought you said you don’t do that around me. Why…” If he can’t trust what he’s looking at, he can’t trust Regulus is ok. And he needs Regulus to be ok.
Regulus swallows, looking away. “I’m fine.”
“Drop the glamour then.”
After a moment, he does. He’s not covering anything drastic, which James counts as a good sign. There’s no blood, no bruises. But he does look awful. So tired, with dark circles underlying each eye. His face is pale, lips chapped with a sickly flush high on his cheekbones.
James furrows his brow. “Oh, love, what happened?”
“Nothing.” Regulus runs a hand over his face, taking a shaky breath. “What did you want to talk about?”
James grimaces. “What do you think?”
Regulus turns around, back to the table. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Maybe you should ask Barney Hoff.”
Regulus’s shoulder’s go stiff. “He deserved what he got.”
The words hurt more than he’d like to admit. “No, he didn’t. You have to know that.”
"I did what I had to."
"In no way did you have to do that."
Regulus shrugs. "What I wanted to, then."
"Fuck that," James hisses. "You don't- I've never known you to want to cause pain."
Regulus leans against the table, as if it's too much work to stand on his own. He slowly turns to face James. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“God, Reg, I don’t know. Maybe that you’re sorry, or you regret it, or you won’t do it again.”
Regulus looks away, swaying slightly. His voice stays monotone, emotionless. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“You can’t just-” James starts to say but is interrupted when Regulus starts coughing, putting his other hand down on the table just to hold himself up. It’s violent and ugly, though it doesn’t last too long. When he’s done he wipes his mouth with one hand and grimaces, as though his patience is being tested. James takes an instinctual step towards him. “Regulus, Merlin, are you all right?”
“I’ll get over it.”
“How long have you been sick?”
Regulus shakes his head. “I’m not.”
James gives him a look. “Then what was that?”
“Something I’ll get over.” Regulus says again.
James groans, frustrated. Taking a deep breath, he tries to relax. “Regulus. You can’t do that. I’m trying to help you. You have to let me. You have to let me in.”
Regulus holds his eyes then, steely. “I’m fine.”
“Why are you making this so difficult?”
Regulus takes a step back. “I’m sorry I’m not as simple as your other projects, Potter.”
James shoves down the flash of anger and hurt, trying to focus on what’s in front of him. Regulus, sick and aching from something James can't quite see yet. Regulus, needing his help. “Come sit down. No, don’t give me that look. Come sit down, and we can keep talking. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d rather you do that on the bed.”
After a moment of hesitation, Regulus follows him to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of it, he keeps his hands tucked firmly in his lap.
“Ok. Ok, good.” James takes a shuddering breath. “Reg, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Did something- did something happen?”
Regulus looks away, jaw set. “No.”
“You have to help me here. Just a little. You have to tell me what’s bothering you.”
Regulus starts coughing again, bending over at the waist. His shoulders shake with the effort and James reaches out, gently rubbing his back. At first Regulus stiffens, but then another coughing fit overtakes him and he leans sideways into James.
When the fit subsides, Regulus stays bent over for a minute, taking deep breaths. He’s still pressed against James, tucked under his arm and leaning into his side. James keeps him there, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. “It’s alright love,” he whispers softly. “I’ve got you.”
Regulus makes a small sound and James feels some of the tension in his back loosen slightly. His shoulders move with his breaths, deep and shaky. Curls falling over his eyes, James can’t read the expression on his face. He wishes he could.
“This summer, I need to see you.” James pulls him in tighter. “I need to. I’ll find a way, ok? Just know I’m going to try. And I don’t need you to talk right now, because you obviously don’t want to. But I need to know that you're alright. And don’t say you’re fine because you just coughed so hard you nearly threw up.”
Regulus says nothing. James continues. “I want you to sleep, first and foremost. You look like you’ve been awake for days. Tomorrow we go home, so you need your rest. No one can get in here, and I’ll stay if you’ll let me. Then I want you to go see the nurse, though I know you probably won’t.”
Against him, Regulus nods. James pulls back slightly, and Regulus looks up at him through his curls. He looks tired and just so… sad. James’s heart clenches. “Alright. Come on, love.” They both settle down on the bed, lying on their sides and staring at each other. James smiles and tucks some of Regulus’s hair behind his ear. “Thank you,” he says softly. He knows Regulus is trying. He knows he's only doing this for James.
“Can… can you tell me about your day?” Regulus asks after a moment. James nods.
“Well, to start with, Peter decided 6 am on the day before summer vacation was the perfect time to pick up the french horn. And I can tell you right now he’s gifted in a lot of things, but the horn is not one of them. So…”
As James talks he rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He lets his words linger and drift, rambling about everything and anything Regulus would find interesting. After a while he turns to face him, smiling to himself.
Regulus is already fast asleep on the pillow, lips parted and lashes fluttering. James looks back up at the ceiling, settling in. He wasn’t lying, earlier. He’ll wait till Regulus wakes up.
As long as it takes.
---
“Barty! You in here?” Evan pulls open Barty’s curtains, smirking when he finds the other boy reading in bed.
Barty looks up and Evans stomach flips. Barty’s gaze flicks to the letters in his hand. “What’re you holding?”
“OWLs are in. Here.” Evan tosses one of the envelopes to Barty, who catches it and rips it open with his teeth.
He directs his attention to his own paper. A few Exceeds Expectations but mostly Acceptables across the board. He hums. Good enough, he supposes. His mother would be satisfied.
“Ha!” Barty cries, looking up from his letter triumphantly. He waves it in the air with a sharp grin. “Fucking knew it.”
Evan catches his wrist, digging his nails in to keep him still. With his other hand he grabs the OWL sheet, scanning it quickly.
No fucking way.
Barty had gotten Outstandings on every single class.
Evan looks up, already smiling. Pride blooms in his chest. Barty flops back against the bed, holding up two middle fingers to the ceiling. “Fucking knew it,” he says again.
“That's- you’re amazing. What the fuck?” Evan throws the paper back at Barty who catches it. “I mean, has anyone ever done that before? All Outstandings?”
Barty shrugs, casual and proud. “No idea.”
“Did you even study?
“Nope,” Barty says, popping the p. “Just wanted to piss off good old Dad.”
Evan sits back, staring at him. The sharp, stinging intelligence masked with arrogance and confidence, obvious if you knew where to look.
“That’s insane. Is he- I mean- will he like that?”
Barty huffs. “I hope not. I don’t need his approval. I don’t want it.”
“Obviously. You don’t think he’ll be even a little proud?”
Barty’s lips twist, eyes meeting Evans. When something as simple as eye contact leaves you flushed, you know you’re fucked. “I don’t want him to be. I don’t need anyone to be proud of me.”
“I am.” Evan says instantly, sitting back and eying Barty cooly. The other boy goes still, gaze narrowing.
“What?”
“I’m proud. All O’s? That’s bloody incredible. I mean, I knew you were smart, but that's insane. So yeah, I’m fucking proud, and you should be too.”
For a moment, the world goes still. They hold each other's gaze, hungry and searching. Evan wonders if Barty’s going to punch him. He’d take it. He’d get off on it, probably, but that’s neither here nor there. It’d be fine, he thinks, if this ends in violence.
His love for Barty has always left him bloody.
Then hands are on his shoulders, shoving him back against the bed, and Barty’s lips are on his. Bruising, desperate, already moving.
Evan can’t breathe under him, thoughts stuttering to a stop. And then Barty grazes his bottom lip with those teeth, those fucking teeth, and Evan forces himself to move. Grabbing Barty’s shoulders he rolls them over, because he’s not about to let him win this.
Pinning him to the bed, Evan starts to truly kiss him back. Violent and sharp, just like him. Then their tongues are in each other's mouths and this is all Evan has wanted since 4th year. Evan breaks the kiss to lick at Barty’s neck, mouthing at it till a dark mark forms. He watches as the blood gathers under the pale skin. One day, he'll break it. One day, he'll make him bleed.
Barty’s hand finds its way to Evan’s hair, fisting it tightly. “Don’t say that shit,” He mutters. “Make yourself sound all corny and stupid.”
Evan finds his way back to his mouth, smirking. “Thought you weren't queer.”
Barty releases his hair, hands finding his hips and flipping him again. “I’m not,” he growls.
“Yeah,” Evan gasps as Barty’s nails drag over his shoulders. “Me neither.”
“Then shut up.”
“Make me.”
Unsurprisingly, he does.
---
When Regulus opens his eyes, he has no idea how long it's been. Rolling over, he finds James firmly asleep on the bed next to him. Regulus swallows against the burning in his throat and slips out of bed, watching James for a few moments. He should probably wake him up, say goodbye in case he doesn’t have a chance on the train. But he looks so comfortable and besides, Regulus has some packing to do.
There’s a box under his bed with the Dark Lord's name on it.