Constellations
“What are you doing up here?” Sirius asks, voice lacking its usual bite.
Regulus still can’t bring himself to look at him, taking deep and aching breaths. “Needed some fresh air.”
“Me too.”
Neither of them say anything for a moment, and Regulus revels in the silence, the gentleness of whatever weird false truce they’ve found themselves in.
Sirius, of course, is the one that breaks it. “Slughorn asked me to join his little club today.”
Regulus closes his eyes, leaning into the darkness. “I told him you wouldn’t be interested.”
“I can speak for myself.”
“So what’d you say?”
There’s a brief pause. “...No.”
Regulus snorts bitterly. “Right.”
“Dorcas is hanging around us now.”
The words feel like daggers. Regulus takes care to keep the pain out of his voice. “Good for you.”
“What’s that about?”
“Ask her yourself.”
Sirius goes quiet for another moment. “Why are you really up here?”
Regulus leans down, resting his head on his forearms on the window sill. “I told you.”
“You tell me a lot of things.”
“Do I? I make an effort not to.”
“You could start with where you were after the last lockdown. Voldemort just took you- ”
“This again.” Regulus mumbles, energy long ago depleted.
“I’m just saying.”
“Mother wanted to see me.”
“You were never any good at lying. Besides- I saw you go with… him.”
To that, Regulus has nothing to say. It doesn’t matter- Sirius more than makes up for the lack. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Regulus scoffs. “Why won’t I tell you?”
“What happened that’s so awful you can’t tell me?”
Regulus thinks of Harold on the floor, writhing in pain from spells Regulus cast. The look on his daughters' face.
He died thinking his children had been slaughtered in the room above.
Regulus takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing of importance.”
“Then what do you know? What did he tell you?”
“You sound like Dumbledore.”
“Maybe Dumbledore’s got the right idea. If you have useful information-”
“Who says I do?”
It’s Sirius’s turn to scoff. “You’ve always been their favorite. There’s nothing they wouldn’t tell you.”
Regulus wants to be alone. He wants to lick his wounds in peace and quiet, up here with just the stars to keep him company. He wants Sirius to go away. No such luck. “I think you assume I have more power than I do,” He says.
“No, I think I’ve just stopped underestimating you.”
Regulus lets out a breath at that, leaning further over the railing. The night breeze drifts through his hair. If he falls, he wonders, would Sirius move to catch him? “What does that mean?” He asks eventually.
“I used to think you were naive. Or helpless. Or- just- there. You know?”
“I was,” Regulus says softly. Behind him, he hears Sirius shift, coming up to lean against the railing next to him.
“Yeah. You were. Until you weren't. Until you were reaching for your wand and cutting my chest open because mommy said so.”
Regulus shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s trying so hard- trying so desperately hard- to keep everything in. To keep his emotions shut and trapped behind the door Sirius taught him how to close.
Strangely enough, it’s Saskia that breaks through.
They’d talked about this once. This moment. This conversation.
Are you afraid that if you tell him that you didn’t mean to, that you were controlled, that you had no choice, he still won’t forgive you?
She wanted him to do this- told him to, even. And really, he owes her this much.
So it’s for no one but Saskia when he says: “That's not true.”
Sirius turns to stare at him, eyes piercing in the dark. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“That wasn’t what happened.”
Sirius scoffs. “I have the scar to prove it.”
Regulus shakes his head again. “I mean- it wasn’t because Maman said so.”
“Then why the fuck did you do it?”
He pictures Saskia’s face, the sound of her voice. Maybe this is a risk he needs to take. “I had no choice.”
“What-”
“I was imperioed.”
Sirius releases a long breath into the night. “Reg,” he says, voice ladened with disappointment.
“Not by Walburga.”
Sirius makes a sharp sound, head whipping to look at him. “What?”
“Orion.” Regulus whispers, finally looking at his brother.
Their eyes lock, and everything changes.
Sirius pushes off the rail, takes a few steps towards him, lips parting. Regulus swallows, straightening up to match him. He can hear his heartbeat, echoing in the silence of the night.
“I tried to tell you,” Regulus manages. “That night. After I brought you to my room. I tried to tell you. And you-”
“And I just left.” Sirius says, eyes fixed on him.
Regulus nods, biting his cheek.
“Oh.” Sirius takes a few steps backwards, raising a hand to run through his hair. His face has broken open, every emotion layed out clear and plain. “Oh. You- you didn’t have a choice.”
Regulus shakes his head. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Orion’s imperio is-”
“Different.” Regulus looks out. “I didn’t know how to throw it off. I couldn’t- it was smothering, Sirius. I couldn’t fight my way out.”
“Why didn’t you- why didn’t you tell me later? Why didn’t you find me at school?”
Regulus looks down, heart clenching. “I figured if you believed I’d do that willingly, you didn’t deserve the truth.”
Sirius sucks in a breath. “That’s so- I mean. God. And…”
“And what?”
“Why didn’t you follow me out?”
Regulus looks out into the night. “You know I couldn’t.”
“I would’ve helped you. James would’ve helped you.”
Regulus feels his lips twitch. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He says softly.
Sirius shakes his head. “You don’t understand-”
“I understand everything.”
“You’ve done this to yourself,” Sirius says, and the words feel like a physical bludger to his stomach. Regulus takes a step back. “You could've gotten out. You could’ve. You chose to stay.”
“You saw what they did to you.”
“No, I saw what you did to me-”
“I didn’t have a choice!”
Sirius takes a deep and shaky breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You should’ve told me.”
“I… couldn’t.”
“That’s not true. I-” He cuts himself off, expression bitter. “I thought you were just like the rest of them. And you let me.”
“I had no choice,” Regulus says again, because now that it’s out it's all he can do not to cram the words down Sirius’s throat till he hears him properly.
“You should’ve said something, then. I would’ve gotten you out, or come back for you, or-”
And Merlin, that hurts. Regulus ignores the scratch in his voice. “Would you have believed me? If I somehow got through to you that night, if I convinced you it was Orion that imperioed me, not Walburga, would you have actually listened? Or would you have gone out that window anyway.”
Sirius swallows. “I was angry-”
“Too angry to listen to me? Too angry to give me a second to explain? You assumed the worst instantly, Sirius. I never had a chance.” Regulus shuts his eyes, wiping a hand over his face. First James and now Sirius. He couldn’t-
“You didn’t give me a reason to listen. Even before that night, you were slipping. I saw it. You let them do whatever they wanted, walk all over you, just to stay out of it. You were already as bad as them. That just sealed the deal. And after, too- what did you do? What do you still do? You go back to them every break. You keep their secrets. You let Voldemort- fucking Voldemort - drag you out of school for a few days then refuse to tell anyone where you went.”
Regulus feels the long familiar anger and injustice bubble back to the surface. “You have no right-”
“What, Reg? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of them? You think I don’t know the pressure of being the Black heir?”
“I don’t think you know what it’s like being the only Black heir, no.”
“You could turn them away, you could refuse, you could-”
“What, Sirius?”
“If they asked you to take the Mark,” Sirius says, voice cold. “If Voldemort asked you to take the Mark, would you say no?”
Regulus goes still, every inch of his body humming. The wind whips around them, picking up in intensity. There’s nothing he can say, he knows. Nothing he can do to fix what's already been done. He holds Sirius’s eyes, watches them change. Watches him re-evaluate.
The silence stretches.
“Tell me you didn’t,” Sirius whispers finally, voice soft and vulnerable. Barely audible over the hiss of the wind through nearby trees. “Tell me you didn't, Reg.”
Regulus, feeling some part of his chest crack, says nothing.
Sirius takes a shuddering breath and a few steps back. “Please,” He murmurs, and Regulus doesn’t think either of them know who he’s talking to. And then, in the darkness of night: “Show me your arm.”
Regulus can’t feel his fingers, or his face, or any part of himself. Everything is numb, trembling under the weight of Sirius’s gaze. “I had to,” he whispers finally. “I had no choice.”
Sirius laughs then, but it breaks halfway through. “Fuck. Fuck that, fuck you, fuck them-”
Regulus’s voice tears and rips in half. “I had no choice.”
“You keep saying that. “ Sirius ducks his head, chest heaving. “Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”
“I- please-”
“No. I- I can’t. I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.” Sirius backs up, shaking his head.
“Please, Sirius,” Regulus begs, chest clenching and ribs puncturing his lungs. He can’t breathe.
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“I had to.”
“You didn’t.” Sirius shudders, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to, Regulus. You never had to. There were other options.”
“I did it for you,” Regulus bursts, every inch of him exposed now, a live wire.
Sirius stares at him. “What?”
But when Regulus opens his mouth, nothing comes out. He can’t tell him. He can’t. If he did, the Potters would have to move or put up more charms. It would alert Voldemort, and Walburga, and then all eyes would be on him. And James. And Sirius. And that- that would be worse.
Ignorance is protection, at least for now.
So he’ll keep his mouth shut, if it means his brother and James stay safe.
Even if it means the mark on his arm goes unexplained.
Even if it means Sirius hates him.
Even if it means losing both of them.
“What are you talking about?” Sirius asks again, voice hard but waiting. Hesitant and hopeful- leaving room for an explanation.
“Nevermind.” Regulus says softly, watching as Sirius’s face shuts down again. “It’s nothing.”
“I thought-”
“What?”
“I thought there was still time.”
Regulus lets that sink in, watching a tear on Sirius’s cheek get furiously swiped away by a sleeve. He says nothing.
His brother looks up, eyes glittering. His voice tears and fractures with pain. “Why?”
Regulus looks out over the railing at the stars glinting above them. “I had to choose if I was going to be the son she wanted or the brother you did.” He shakes his head, breathing the words into the night like a prayer, begging Sirius to understand. “At the end of the day, one of those choices wasn’t a death sentence.”
Sirius stares at him, taking a deep breath. The wind whistles in the trees. “That’s a weak excuse, Reg.”
Regulus presses his lips together, watching Sirius back towards the door. He fights, hard, to keep everything in. To keep it all contained. To keep every emotion that’s punching and stabbing at his skin from the inside to stay where they are- invisible and hidden, even as the pressure grows. Even as he’s about to burst.
Sirius pauses at the door and looks back, pressing a hand hard against his mouth. Their eyes lock, grey on grey, fire on ice, and then he’s gone. Down the stairs and around the corner, somewhere Regulus can’t follow.
And Regulus-
Regulus lets himself break.
He gasps into the night, hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Because-
Because.
Saskia had been wrong.
Regulus had done it. He’d explained. He’d told Sirius the truth.
And it hadn’t mattered.
Regulus moves towards the door before he can stop himself, down the stairs and through the halls on autopilot, everything else blocked out. His arm burns, fire on his flesh, turning his skin raw and red and aching.
The waters are rising, his ocean of calm flooding and swamping him in emotions he can’t keep down. He chokes on it, turning the corner on instinct.
He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know where he is-
-until he does.
He grabs the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white with how hard he grips the porcelain. He shudders, taking gasping breaths.
He could do it, so easily. Whisper the words, watch the sink slide back into cement and the wall. Climb into the tunnel and go to her, ask for her help, ask for her advice, feel her heart beat beneath her scales and let the sound comfort him. Let her calm him down in the way only she knows how to do.
Of course, that’s not an option.
It hasn’t been for a while.
Regulus lets out a soft sound and presses his forehead against the mirror, closing his eyes. Saskia , he whispers, the parseltongue crackly and rough on his tongue. He can't say anything else, the words catching in his throat. This time, it’s not guilt that threatens to choke him. It’s pure unfiltered longing.
He misses her.
Desperately.
Maybe he should find James. Maybe he should let him whisper apologies and sweet nothings until Regulus can feel his fingers again. But the thought of looking James in the eye, facing him with the Mark on his arm- he can’t do it. Not yet.
Because Sirius will tell him, surely. It’s only a matter of time.
He supposes that’s what they’ve always been, him and James- a ticking bomb, a fling with a short fuse. He’s tried so hard not to think about it that the weight of that realization nearly brings him to his knees.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do without him.
Slowly Regulus straightens up, adjusting his hair in the mirror and splashing some water on his face. He turns around, towards the stalls.
“Myrtle?”
For a moment, nothing happens. Then slowly, slowly, a forehead and eyes appear over the edge of a stall. They stare at each other, neither speaking.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus clears his throat through the silence. “About what happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
For once, Myrtle doesn’t say anything. They hold each other's eyes for another section before she nods, just barely, and sinks below the stall.
With a deep breath, Regulus heads towards the common room, still numb. The portraits whisper as he passes, though that could be in his head. He’s not entirely sure what’s real anymore. He just wants to sleep.
As he reaches the portrait hole it swings open, revealing a startled Pandora, evidently going back to her dorm for the night after visiting Dorcas. He takes a step back, lips parting but unable to force any words out. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to need to.
Pandora looks him up and down, pressing her lips into a tight line. Slowly she takes a step forward, then another, then wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Her hands splay out on his back, one rubbing comforting circles over his shirt. Regulus feels himself go completely stiff, every muscle tensing.
Then he forces himself to take a deep breath and melts into it, burying his face in her shoulder and hugging her back. She smells like woodsmoke and lilac and something a little ethereal. It’s… nice.
It’s been a long time since he’s been hugged.
Slowly she pulls back, keeping her hand on Regulus’s arm. Her eyes search his face before she leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, feather light. Then she’s gone down the hallway, turning the corner before he can blink.
---
Over breakfast, James gets a letter from his dad. It’s the first one all semester. The envelope drops onto his plate, landing right on top of his sausage. He stares at it for a moment, the loopy scrawl tying his stomach into dark and twisty knots.
Peter sees him staring and cocks his head across the table. “Aren’t you going to read it?”
James opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Slowly he picks it up and slips it into his bag, taking another bite of eggs. “Later.”
“Mm.” Peter nods, wiping a hand over his mouth.
“Pads?” James shoves down his dread in favor of checking on Sirius.
He’s zoned out, gaze fixed on something in the distance and slightly glazed over. There are dark bags under his eyes, hair a little more disheveled than normal. He looks- for lack of a better term- awful.
“Pads?” James asks again, this time concerned. He reaches out with his foot and kicks Sirius’s leg under the table. Sirius blinks as his eyes flick up to meet James’s. James raises a brow. “What’s up?”
“Hm? Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Why’d you come back to the dorm so late last night?”
“Just- needed some fresh air.”
“...Okay.”
“Okay.”
Peter and James exchange a look as Remus sits down next to James. “It’s bloody cold out there this morning.”
James blinks. “Why were you outside?”
Remus shrugs. “Just taking a stroll.”
“Are you coming to mine for Christmas?”
Remus’s eyes widen, just slightly, before cutting to Sirius. Sirius, who’s futilely pretending to be incredibly interested in his porridge. “Er-”
“Think on it, yeah? Pete, what about you?”
Peter shifts, running a hand through his thin hair. “I… can’t. Mum wants me home.”
“You come over like every year.”
“Not this one, I guess. Sorry mate.”
James nods distractedly, looking down at his bag again. He needs to read that letter. Another part of him wants to throw it in the fire. “I’m gonna… go.” He shoulders the bag, glancing back at Sirius. He’s still zoned out, propping up his head on his hand. James turns and follows his gaze, sucking in a sharp breath.
Regulus is staring at his plate, not eating. Both hands are clasped in his lap. Next to him, Barty is laughing with Evan who’s trying to grab his cup of juice. Regulus’s gaze is vacant and sharp at the same time, unmoving. Suddenly he looks up and meets James’s eyes, as if he can feel them on him. They then snap down to Sirius next to him and all the blood drains from his face, leaving him pale. Turning to mutter something to Barty he stands up, stepping out from behind the bench and walking quickly out of the Great Hall.
James just sighs and rubs his forehead, closing his eyes. He needs to apologize to Reg. Badly. He just has to find the time. And- well- the courage.
“James?” Peter nudges him.
“Yeah?”
“You were going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” James stands up stiffly, sending Sirius one last look before heading off.
He waits till he’s safely back in the dorm to read the letter.
James,
How are things? How’s school? Sorry I haven’t written in a while.
James has to stop and scoff at that bit. He’d written to Sirius plenty of times.
Things are well here. I found someone to take over the business, so at least it’s being continued. Not that we need the money- I’ve insisted all profits go to either the war effort or the new buyer. We’re excited to see you and Sirius for Christmas in a few days. How’s Remus doing? Will he be joining us? Let me know.
Love,
Monty
James closes the letter after a moment, setting it aside. It… wasn’t what he’d hoped. His father hadn’t mentioned why he hadn’t written for two months, or asked James anything of substance. It was empty, weak.
James reaches back into the envelope and pulls out the other letter- from his mother this time.
Jamie,
I decided to include this with your father’s letter for convenience's sake. He misses you. We both do. The house is all decorated- just waiting for you and Sirius and all your noise. By the way, Monty’s potion’s ran out. He wouldn’t say anything, but I knew you’d be furious if you came back to find he hadn’t been taking them. Just thought I should let you know so Regulus can get working. Monty told me about that, by the way. Interesting choice of potion’s partner. Obviously the right one, since he's saving your father’s life, but still. As I’m sure Monty told you, there’s always an open bed here. See you soon,
Effie
James holds on to the letter for a moment, letting his mothers words bleed warmth into every inch of him. And then- what ? His father ran out of potions and just… wasn’t going to tell him? A flash of red-hot anger burns through him as he sets the letter down and combs a hand through his messy hair.
James begged him. Really, begged him, holding his father as tight as possible and sobbing into his shirt, using up every last shred of his dignity and not caring one bit. He’d never felt that kind of fear before- like Monty was letting himself slip away and James couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was all-consuming. But he’d caved and taken the potions, and James let himself rest.
James knows what he did was cruel. He’d forced Monty to agree to something he really didn’t want to do, something that by all means should’ve been his choice. That’s not to say he regrets it. He doesn’t. He’d do it again, in an instant. Drop to his knees, spout as many cruel manipulative things necessary as long as it keeps his father living.
But now this. His father’s given up again, and just wasn’t going to tell him. It’s like- it’s like he’s not even trying.
James groans, leaning forward and burying his face in his palms. He’s so frustrated and just so, so tired. He’s tired of potions, he’s tired of the war, he’s tired of begging everyone around him to keep fucking breathing.
The stinging press of tears behind his lids leave him even more angry as he swipes at his eyes, biting his lip. It’s not fucking fair, he thinks, that he cares so deeply and yet seems to be the only person in the world incapable of saving anyone. He needed Regulus to make the cure that helped his father, needed Snape to brew the potion for Remus, needed Sirius to get himself out of that house.
The weight of it hits him suddenly, forcing a choked-back sob out of his throat. He’s entirely and utterly useless. He always has been.
Regulus knows it.
Sirius knows it.
And now, his father does too.
James lays back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pressing the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to ignore the silent tears that track down his cheeks as he shakes.
He stays like that till the bell rings, and then a little after too.
---
When Remus walks into Astronomy, he thinks Sirius is sitting at his desk. It’s an odd thought, because Sirius isn’t in this class, and anyway, Regulus and Sirius don’t look that much alike. Not really.
Regulus is sharp and soft at the same time, cruel eyes and perfectly styled curls. Defined cheekbones and a dangerous mouth. He looks- for lack of a better term- like a deadly angel.
Sirius’s beauty is different. He’s all elegance hiding behind a rough exterior. Soft cheeks give way to a sharp jawline, sparkling grey eyes that hide behind his mess of glossy black hair. Sometimes Remus could swear his skin glows, some ethereal pale light that doesn’t reflect but is instead sourced from within, lit somewhere behind his eyes and beaming out through every pore.
So when Remus has to do a double-take in Astronomy, he mentally kicks himself. He’s too far gone, he thinks. He’s been avoiding Sirius so diligently he’s started seeing him around every turn.
Slowly he makes his way over, dropping his bag and settling down in the seat next to Regulus. “Black.”
Regulus spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye, not moving. “Lupin. You look bad.”
Remus makes an affronted noise and crosses his arms. It’s the full moon’s tonight and- yeah; maybe he does look a little worse for wear, but he didn’t think it was all that noticeable. “Says you. You look-” He takes a moment to scan Regulus over, then pauses.
Because he really doesn’t look great. He wasn’t entirely serious before, but now…
There are dark bags under Regulus’s eyes, hair slightly less combed than usual. His cheeks are gaunt and grey, like he hasn’t eaten in a while. And then there’s that certain look in his eyes, like he’s not entirely here.
“Regulus,” Remus murmurs after a moment. “Are you ok?”
Regulus’s gaze snaps up to meet his just as Madam Sinistra begins her lesson.
She talks for nearly the whole class pointing at various stars and constellations across the board that shift and rotate under her fingers. They take notes in silence, Remus silently sneaking glances at Regulus the whole time.
He’s curious.
And. Well.
Suspicious, if he’s being honest.
When the bell rings Regulus scoops up his bag and moves to leave. Remus grabs his arm in the hallway outside, cocking his head. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come on.” he gives Regulus’s arm another tug and watches as the other boy takes a stumbling step towards him and then stops, yanking his arm away.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because.” Remus shrugs. “I’m hungry. And I have questions. And- yeah, that’s it.”
“Hungry?”
“I’m going to the kitchens. Come with me.”
Regulus glares at him like he’s trying to figure him out, suspicious and distrusting. “I- why?”
It’s true- Remus isn’t Regulus’s biggest fan and they both know it. Regardless, Remus meant it about having questions. And Regulus can’t answer them if he passes out from hunger.
“Come on.”
Regulus crosses his arms tightly over his chest and starts walking, body stiff. “I’m not waiting for you.”
“Fine. Bastard.” Remus catches up to him, already half regretting asking him along. “Is Snape working for Voldemort?”
Regulus hisses through his teeth and looks around them wildly, double checking they’re alone. “You can’t just-”
Remus rolls his eyes. “No one’s listening.”
“He… sort of. Adjacently. I guess.”
“Are you?”
Regulus’s stare stays blank and Remus sighs. “Ok. Don’t answer. Is Voldemort planning on- I mean- is he using wolfsbane? To keep the werewolves under his control sane?”
Regulus shakes his head. “No. He doesn’t care enough about that. And besides, tons of the werewolves are… shifting, anyway.”
Remus stops walking. “What does that mean?”
Regulus doesn’t stop moving, forcing Remus to keep up. “They’re turning and not switching back. Or they are, but it’s taking longer. And it’s more permanent. Like they’re slowly becoming full wolf.”
Every vein in Remus’s body floods with ice. “That’s- to everyone?”
Regulus tilts his head at him inquisitively. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Oh. You’re experiencing the same thing.”
Remus opens his mouth then closes it again. “Not anymore.”
Regulus nods slowly, eyes scanning him. Remus can almost see his brain working. “Wolfsbane.” He says eventually. It’s not a question.
Remus nods.
“Snape.”
Remus nods again.
“Hm.”
“We’re here.” Remus finds the painting and tickles the pear, watching it turn into a handle. He turns it and holds the door open for Regulus who gives him a suspicious look and steps through.
“Mister Lupin! Mister Regulus! What a surprise!” A small house elf runs up to them, looking between them quickly. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t quite ready yet-”
“It’s ok,” Regulus says, looking around. “We’re just here for a snack. No rush.”
“Oh. In that case, can I be helping you find anything?”
Regulus smiles softly. “Do you have any bread pudding made?”
The house elf nods enthusiastically. “Course.” She disappears and pops back a second later handing him a small napkin wrapped up around a square of pudding.
“Thank you very much,” Regulus says, lips twitching as he stares down at the handkerchief. Carefully, he tucks it in his bag.
“You and Mister Potter must be getting along well. He loves bread pudding as well. Requests it all the time.”
Regulus turns a bright shade of pink and nods, damningly silent. The house elf turns to Remus. “And you, Mister Lupin?”
“Uh- I’ll- just- Can I have an apple?”
The house elf hands him one almost instantly and Remus bites into it, nodding.
“He means thank you,” Regulus says to the house elf, cutting Remus a look.
“Er- right. Thank you.”
They leave slowly, shutting the portrait behind them. The pear promptly turns normal again as Remus gives Regulus an amused look.
“What.”
“Nothing. You’re… very soft with house-elves.”
Regulus raises his eyebrows at him, daring him to keep talking. “It’s called having class. I’m not a barbarian.”
Remus just takes another bite of his apple. “Bread pudding, huh? Should we expect James back at the dorm tonight?”
Regulus’s expression shifts into something unreadable. “Depends.”
“Alright.”
Regulus turns to him, pausing. “My brother- he didn’t-” Remus feels himself shut down a bit, waiting for Regulus to finish. He clears his throat. “He didn’t say anything?”
“About?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t- we aren’t- he talks to James more than me these days.”
A stupid mistake.
Regulus studies him carefully. “Right.”
“What would he have said-”
“I have to go.” Regulus shoulders his bag and looks away down the hall. “I’m going to be late.”
“Where?”
But Regulus is already walking away.
---
The full moon that night is brutal. James is missing- he asked Remus first, of course, if he could go. After the introduction of Snape’s potions it’s been getting easier. It’s not necessary to have every Marauder there- especially if James has other duties. He’s only missed it twice and looked so guilty both times he approached Remus with the idea that Remus had instantly caved.
Now he leans back against the wall of the shack and stretches his arms over his head, trying to ignore the glow of the moon through the window. Peter is sitting slumped against the wall next to him, head in his hand. Sirius is in the middle of the room, cross-legged and waiting. Because he won’t really talk to him, or look him in the eye, but yeah. Sure. He’ll show up to keep Remus company while he changes.
Already, every muscle in Remus’s body is sore and aching. His joints twinge when he moves, making him hiss in pain. It’s worse than it’s been in a long while, and he can’t figure out why.
Sirius looks up at the sound, eyes narrowing. “Moony? Is it bad?”
Biting his lip, Remus nods. “I- it’s normally better than this. Recently it’s been better than this.”
Sirius cocks his head. “And you took your potion?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Remus opens his mouth then promptly closes it. He 100% left the bag with the potions on his bedside table up in the castle. “No. Shit .” After so long getting used to the numbed pain of the potion, he doesn’t think he’s ready to face this raw. “Shit, shit- there’s no time-”
Peter jumps to his feet. “I'll get it- I’ll run-”
Sirius nods, eyes wide and panicked. “Go, go now , you’ll be faster as a rat.”
Peter nods, promptly shrinking and dropping out of his clothes to the floor and scampering off.
Remus watches him go, panic bubbling in his chest. A searing ache tears itself across his back, and he lets out a soft whine, leaning forward off the wall. He hears Sirius moving and then there’s a presence by his side, a hand on his arm. “Shh. Breathe into it.” Sirius whispers gently.
Remus considers hexing him.
But then there’s another pain and all he can do is melt into the touch. “T-talk.”
“Talk?”
“Distract me.”
“I- Ok. Yeah. I can do that.” A pause. “About what?”
“I- shit. I don’t know. Tell me about your day.”
“Uh- I had Transfiguration, then Defense Against the Dark Arts, then a free period, you know, since I dropped Astronomy.”
“Lucky. I had Astronomy last period.”
“Enjoying it?”
“I got to talk to your angel of brother. How's that going?”
Sirius goes completely stiff next to him, every inch of his body tense. “Did he say something?” He asks, voice hard.
Remus shakes his head. “He asked the same about you.”
“He would’ve.”
“What is it? What’s happening?”
Sirius looks down, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I- can’t say.”
“Oh.”
They go quiet for a moment, only interrupted by the occasional gasp of pain from Remus. Sirius relents, to some extent. “He- he’s joining him. Voldemort. More and more. Every time I see him it’s like he’s… slipping away. Going somewhere I can’t pull him out of. And I don’t know how to… deal with that. With letting him go.”
Remus thinks about the way Regulus looked today when he was talking to the house-elves, soft and sweet. Gentle. He’s starting to understand, at least a little, why James looks like he’s tearing at the seams whenever Remus brings him up.
“Oh. I- Ah .” Remus curls in on himself a little more. He can feel it starting, the anger and pain building in his gut.
“Pete,” Sirius mutters, seemingly to himself, “hurry.”
“Bring him to- to yours, for the summer.” Remus has lost all patience for speaking indirectly, the pain leaving him bare and honest.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.”
“Fine.” Remus lets his head drop back against the wall, taking deep breaths.
“Peter will be here soon. Don’t worry. I’m right here.”
And really, that does it.
“Shut up.” Remus hisses, running a hand over his face. It stings a bit, surprising him. Oh. His nails are already growing, just slightly. “Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t act like you care.”
Sirius pinches his brows, confused. “Remus-”
“You can’t- you can’t be like this with me now if you won’t- I-”
“What are you talking about?” And now Sirius has his hand on Remus’s back and oh , he hates him.
“You kissed me back,” Remus hisses through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut and pain spotting his vision. “I felt it.”
Instantly the hand on his back is gone and Sirius is staring at him through the dark, lips parted. “You-”
“I felt it.” Remus says again.
Sirius looks desperate and anxious as he glances around, panicked. “Peter-”
“I’m not talking to Peter, Sirius. I’m talking to you. And you won’t even look at me.”
Sirius backs up slightly, the gap between them growing. “You’re in pain-”
“I felt it. You don’t kiss like that if…”
Sirius just shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. His chest rises, falls. Remus continues. “Was it really just a stupid mistake? Did you really feel nothing?” He knows the wolf is starting to take over. He can feel his senses sharpen.
Sirius says nothing, the moonlight illuminating his skin, glowing and pale. And how dare he. Remus lets out a growl, patience snapping. He leans forward, grabbing the back of Sirius’s head and yanking him towards him, pulling him into a desperate and bruising kiss.
All impulse control left him long ago.
Pain thrums through his entire body but he doesn’t care, because Sirius’s is here. Under his hands, beneath his lips, and this pain isn’t anything he hasn’t dealt with before. It’s worth it. Every last twinge.
And Remus feels it, feels the moment Sirius’s hand comes up to hold his wrist, melting into Remus’s lips. Remus lets out a small sound that’s probably more wolf than human, pulling him closer. Needing him to fill every sense. Needing to inhale his scent and taste, make them one.
Then there’s the sound of footsteps on the floorboard and Sirius pushes him off, eyes wide. Remus doesn’t care about Peter- as soon as his hands left Sirius’s body the pain came roaring back in, magnified tenfold. He whimpers, honest-to-god whimpers, and reaches out again, before a searing pain splits across his chest and he curls in on himself, shaking.
“Fuck,” He hears Peter mutters as he thrusts a bottle into Sirius’s hand. Sirius unstoppers it and tries to hand it to Remus before realizing that won’t be happening. He tips his head back and pours the contents down his throat.
Remus gags at the taste but manages to keep it down, relaxing into the cool feeling that spreads over his limbs and through each muscle. Letting out a soft breath he sags into the wall, shutting his eyes. “Change,” He murmurs, and hears the sound of cloth rustling as Sirius and Peter shift.
He stares down at his hands, watching as the dark fur spreads over his skin and the claws come out.
---
“James?”
James looks up at the sound of his name. He’s been sitting on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing as he waits. Regulus stands in the doorway, one hand on the knob.
James stands up instantly, taking a step forward. “Reg.”
Regulus looks him over, eyes softening. He says nothing, just taking him in.
“I'm so sorry,” James says, crossing the room. “I shouldn’t have assumed- I mean- I just heard what Sirius said and thought-”
“James.” Regulus’s lips twitch into something almost like a smile, except it’s just so sad . “It’s fine. I’m not mad. It was a reasonable assumption.”
“You’re not mad?” James' heart calms, hope thrumming though his chest.
“No. I thought- well. Nevermind.” Regulus looks nervous for a second before dropping to the ground and pulling something out of his bag, handing it to James. “Here.”
“Aw, love, you shouldn’t have.” James settles back down on the bed, leaning against the cushions. He breaks the chunk of pudding in half, holding one out to Regulus.
Reg just stares at him from across the room before narrowing his eyes. “You’re just trying to get me into bed with you."
“When am I not? Come on, I told them I wouldn’t be back till morning. Will anyone notice if you stay the night?”
Regulus sighs, already untying his shoes. “...No.”
“That's what I thought. C’mere.”
Regulus crawls into bed next to him, grabbing the other half of the bread pudding and eating silently. James turns to look at him. “What did you think?”
“What?”
“Earlier, you said you thought something.”
“Tends to happen.”
“Reg.”
Regulus shrugs, shaking his head and looking down. “If- I mean- I need more time. I can’t do this right now.”
James nods. He only feels like he just got him back, he doesn’t want to push so soon. Besides:
“So- I- um. I found something out today.”
Regulus’s entire body goes stiff next to him on the bed. “What’s that?”
“My dad ran out of potions. And... didn't think to tell me. My Mum had to write.”
“Oh.” Regulus frowns, then sits forward. “What? And he just-”
“Wasn’t going to mention it.”
“Shit.”
James nods, staring up at the ceiling. The lights have dimmed, condensed into the soft warm glow from constellations on the ceiling that appeared a few weeks ago. James is a fan of the new edition. Regulus says some of them are in the wrong places.
There’s a sudden weight on James’s chest and he looks down as Regulus rests his head on James’s torso, staring off into the distance. “We’re making more tomorrow, and you can bring them home for Christmas.” It’s not a debate. “Yell at your dad for me.”
“I just- thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“For everything. For saving my dad. I feel like I don’t say that enough.”
Regulus shrugs against him as the stars above them grow dimmer. “It’s not me.”
“What-”
“I mix the ingredients. You do the research and actually get your dad to take them. Hell, I wouldn’t even be doing this if you hadn’t begged me.”
“Begged is a strong word.”
“Begged, Potter.”
“Yeah, well. You agreed. Out of the goodness of your heart. I owe you.”
“It was selfish, really.” Regulus murmurs, voice already heavy with sleep. James runs a hand through his curls, gently playing with the ends. “I just wanted you to stop crying. And I thought…”
“You thought?”
“Some part of me thought maybe you’d look at me like I was more than your best friend’s little brother.”
James sighs contentedly. “You’ve really just been trying to get in my pants since you were eleven, haven’t you?”
He can feel Regulus smile against his shirt, thumb rubbing circles into James’s side where his hand rests. “And look how that worked out.”
“Mmm. Only took you 5 years.”
“Someone was being difficult.”
James smiles into his hair. “Someone wouldn’t look in my direction.”
“Hm.”
They go quiet for a long moment, just breathing the night air. Around them, the castle is still. “Reg?” James whispers eventually.
“Mm?”
“Be safe over break.”
“Mm.”
Slowly Regulus’s breathing evens out, eyelashes fluttering closed.
When it happens, it happens softly and quietly, the lights of the stars above them just barely bright enough. James rests his head on Regulus’s, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. He’s soft and warm and tucked up against his torso, eyes closed with his chest rising and falling gently.
He runs a hand over Regulus’s shoulder, ignoring the little raised scars beneath the fabric. He doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this. Regulus looks so gentle, so relaxed, so untroubled.
That’s when James sees it.
A small dark line on the inside of Regulus’s wrist, just hidden by his shirt.
His heart stops.
Slowly he reaches down and pulls Regulus’s sleeve up, careful not to disturb him. He chokes on his breath, throat closing up as everything in him revolts. The Dark Mark, laid bare and bold, stands out against Regulus’s pale skin. It looks like sin. It looks like death.
He squeezes his eyes shut.
There it is again, the press of the knife against his stomach, cutting through flesh and organs and tearing a hole in him so large he doesn’t think it can ever be patched. He almost wonders why the bed’s not flooding with his blood, dark and dripping from the edges of the sheets. It feels like it should be- it feels like both his lungs have been punctured and torn to shreds in his chest.
He should wake him up. He should wake him up and throw off the covers, demand answers and cut the line, pull the knife out his stomach and throw it at Regulus's feet. But-
James can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He can’t-
Regulus shifts against him, making a small sleepy sound and burying his face in James’s chest like a cat settling in.
James stares down at him, entire body going stiff and rigid. Regulus’s lashes flutter against his cheeks as he makes a small face in his sleep. Then the slight wrinkle between his brows spreads out and his face softens again, lips parting as he relaxes.
And James can’t breathe.
Because the Mark on Regulus’s arm is so ugly, and he is so, so beautiful.
James Potter is not a coward. He’s a Gryffindor, through and through, brave as anything. But right here, with the boy he loves asleep in his arms, he has never felt more afraid.
Regulus has always left him weak.
It’s that same shameful weakness that makes James reach over, and, with an achingly guilty heart, gently pull his sleeve back down.