No Greater Sin

Evan stares out the window, watching the scenery whip past. He actually likes the snow, unlike Barty. The calm wash of white makes everything feel a bit more tranquil. The flurry outside the windows hit the pane as the train takes a sharp corner, and Evan realizes it’s been 20 minutes since anyone’s spoken. In fact, no one’s really said anything since they met at the platform. He looks up, but Regulus is just staring out the window with that blank look on his face, knees drawn up to his chest. He hasn’t talked, but then again, he rarely does these days. 

Barty’s the odd one. When Evan glances over he finds him sitting with perfect posture, staring at the wall across from them. His eyes look so… empty. At the station he was terse and abrupt, but Evan just assumed he was tired and itching to get away from his father. Then they’d gotten on the train, and Evan figured he’d let the two of them settle in a bit before conversation, losing himself in the snow outside the window. But now it’s been twenty minutes and Barty still looks so blank. A tingle of fear runs down Evan’s spine as he reaches out and elbows him gently.

“Barty.”

Barty’s eyes slide to his, still unfocused. “What is it?”

Evan narrows his eyes at him and then glances over at Regulus, who still isn’t paying attention. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Barty.”

Barty’s expression doesn’t change, usually sharp expression dulled and relaxed. “What is it?”

And that-

That’s just fucking creepy. 

“Snap out of it.” Evan waves his hand in his face, jostling his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” a sneaking suspicion sends Evan’s stomach sinking. Surely he isn’t… surely his father wouldn’t…

“Reg?”

“Hm?”

“Can you- something’s wrong with Barty.”

Regulus looks over, tired eyes scanning them quickly. “What… oh. Shit.” he lets his legs drop to the floor as he stands hesitantly, crossing to them. “Barty.”

“What is it?”

Regulus curses in Parseltongue, something Evan’s had to adjust to recently. “Can you hear us?”

“Of course.”

Evan meets Regulus’s gaze, slightly panicked. “His father.”

“How long has he…”

“Since I met him at the platform, at least.”

“That’s not great.”

“No,” Evan snorts. “It’s not.”

“But he’s never broken out before, right?”

“Not on his own.”

Regulus drops to his knees in front of Barty, reaching out and grabbing his face, tilting it up. “ Barty . Listen to me. I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.”

Barty’s face doesn’t move, but against his thigh, his pinky twitches. Evan grabs his hand, squeezing it tight between his. “Can’t we cast a counter curse?”

“Not if it’s an Imperio. Only the caster can undo it.” 

“So what-”

Regulus narrows his eyes at Barty, lips parting in a shuddering breath. “Barty, find a crack. You feel confined, right? Shoved in? There’s always a weak point. Feel along the edges of his power, somewhere he’s not paying attention, a chink in the armor. It’ll be there.”

When Barty doesn’t move, Evan glances at Regulus. “Always?”

“Always.” He says firmly, not looking at him. “Some are… some are just harder to find than others.”

“Oh.”

“He moved his hand earlier, right?”

Evan nods, and Regulus looks back to Barty. “There’s your weak point, then. Find that space that allowed you to move your finger, and focus on it. Squeeze Evan’s hand.”

Evan’s hyper aware of every point of contact between him and Barty. His fingers don’t move. 

“Barty,” Regulus says, voice low and direct. “Squeeze his hand.” 

And miraculously, he does. It’s gentle but there, a soft pressure against his fingers. Suddenly it’s a lot harder and he’s gripping Evan’s hand now, squeezing tight. Barty doubles over, gasping as his face contorts and twitches. 

Evan puts hand on Barty’s back, sending Regulus a panicked look. “Shit-”

“Fuck,” Barty spits, shuddering. Evan squeezes him tighter, rubbing his shoulder. Regulus sits back, letting out a breath.

“That fucker,” Barty croaks, but he hasn’t stopped shaking. “I’m- I’m going to kill him.”

“Not if I get there first,” Evan murmurs, heart clenching. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy,” Regulus supplies when Barty fails to answer. “Probably nauseous. Keep your head down and it’ll get better soon.”

Barty just lets out a low groan, still doubled over on the seat. “Shit.”

Evan runs his hands over Barty’s shoulder blades, leaning into him slightly. It’s rare for Barty to let himself be comforted like this, and Evan relishes in it. Everything in him longs to shower him with whispered gentle calming words, but Barty hates things like that. Pet names, or anything betraying the depth of his affection, really, has always been off the table. In another life, he thinks, he'd like it if Barty would kiss Evan in public and call him baby. “Breathe, idiot.”

“How long was it this time?” Regulus asks, voice low.

“About a week. I thought- I thought I wouldn’t be able to get out.”

Regulus shakes his head. “There’s always a chink in the armour.”

“Evidently.”

Regulus stands up, watching them carefully and leaning against the wall of the compartment near the door. Evan directs his attention back to Barty, murmuring softly. “Do you need water? A walk?”

“No. I need- I need my fucking head to stop spinning.”

“How-”

Suddenly Barty rolls up his sleeve and rakes his nails across his arm, hard and deep. Immediately angry red lines appear on his skin, pricking with blood when Barty gives it a second pass. Evan yelps and grabs his wrist, stilling him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Drawing blood.”

“Why?”

“Because I can. Because I choose to.”

Evan looks to Regulus for help but finds his spot empty, apparently having slipped out at some point. He looks back to Barty, apparently on his own with this. An idea stirs in his gut. “There are other things, you know. Other things you can do that your father wouldn’t allow.”

Barty’s eyes flick up to meet his, piercing and direct. “I suppose you’re right,” he murmurs, grabbing Evans face and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Evan has the foresight to send a locking charm at the door, a spell slamming the curtains on the compartment closed. Then he grabs Barty and pulls him closer, pressing their bodies together, slipping his tongue into his mouth. 

“This is a bad… this is a bad coping mechanism.” He mumbles between kisses. “We should talk or…”

Barty pulls back, making a face. “Talk?”

“You’re right. Go back to… doing that.”

Barty gives him that god-awful smirk and leans in again, hands sliding down Evan’s back and running over his waist and hips. “That can be arranged.”

“What would he think?” Evan gasps, leaning into the fire in his stomach. “What would he think if he saw you here, tongue down my throat and hands on my ass?”

Barty lets out a low growl and kisses him harder, one hand squeezing said ass. Evan smirks and continues as he lays kisses across Barty’s neck. “He’d hate this, wouldn’t he? His only son, the air to the Crouch name, fogging up the windows while grinding on a death eater bloke?”

“I’m not his bloody puppet,” Barty whispers and Evan nods.

“No. You’re fucking mine, Barty. He gets no part of you.”

Regulus doesn’t come back for the entire train ride, which, for his sake, is probably a good choice. 

---

Regulus is having a… difficult time. The dorm is quiet, save the faint whispers coming from Barty’s bed. Evan snuck in there a little over half an hour ago, closing the curtains after him. They’ve been talking in hushed tones ever since.

Regulus has curled himself up in the alcove that would be a window seat if Slytherin wasn’t in the dungeons. There’s a metal grate high on the wall, allowing a thin sliver of moonlight to stream down through the air. He stares up at it, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall. He has a bag of toffee’s in his lap, though the flavor has turned from sweet to sickly awfully fast. 

He wishes he could sleep. He wants to, desperately, everything in him begging for a rest. His entire body feels heavy and lethargic, but that's becoming more and more common these days. He wonders if he’s getting sick. Not like a cold, or a flu, but sick . Sick with something he won’t uncover until it’s too late, until all there’s left to do is waste away. 

He sort of feels like it. 

But the realistic part of him knows when this feeling started, knows who's to blame. For all his promises to Saskia, he’s still firmly stuck in the king’s labyrinth. He thinks if he saw the sun right now, he just might burn to have it. Then again, he might not even have the energy to lift off the ground. 

He closes his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. He needs to talk to James.  

It aches. Everything in him aches.

How the fuck is he supposed to-

How-

He runs a hand through his hair as his throat closes up, blinking quickly in an attempt to keep his tears back.  

He’s always known they were on a clock, a means to an end. But he thought… he thought they could wait. He thought there was still time. He thought this wouldn’t have to happen till the last week of school, or break, or something. Not so soon. Not now. 

But his name being mentioned at a death eater meeting, a target being put on his back, that was the last straw. That was unforgivable. All because of Regulus, and his inability to keep his love gentle. 

He thinks about the toffee on his tongue that will waste away at his teeth if left too long. He thinks about James’ smile when he kisses him. And he wonders why death tastes so sweet. 

Tomorrow. He’ll do it tomorrow. 

Tonight, he’ll relish in the ability to call James his and mean it. 

He falls asleep against the stone, moonlight collecting in a pool at his feet. 

---

James stirs his curry with a spoon, staring as the mealy grains move around the bowl. It’s cold by now, mushy and slightly congealed. He probably should’ve eaten it sooner. He just… isn’t hungry.

“Oi, Prongs.”

He looks up, letting the spoon fall from his hand. “Mm?”

“Quidditch practice later?”

“Oh. Already?”

Sirius gives him an odd look. “Uh… yeah. You’re the captain, mate.”

“Right. I- er. Right. Do you wanna try your hand at that today? I’m kind of tired.” 

“Try my hand at…”

“The whole captain thing.” James rubs his eyes. “I just didn’t get a good sleep last night.”

Sirius blinks at him, narrowing his gaze. “You want to skip out on practice, quidditch practice, because you didn’t sleep well last night?”

Peter sends him a glance. “You look exhausted.”

James shakes his head. “Not exhausted, just… tired.”

Sirius looks between them. “And you just want to skip out on your captain duties?”

James, energy completely depleted, just sighs and stands up, shouldering his bag. “You can handle it, can’t you Pads? Thanks a ton.” Turning, he walks out without waiting for an answer. 

He was telling Sirius the truth, at least. He is tired. He hasn’t slept since…  actually, he can’t exactly remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep. He needs a sleep potion.

He makes his way to the Come and Go room, pushing open the door and shutting it behind him. It’s odd, being here alone. Without Regulus. It’s no less noisy, but substantially more quiet. 

He goes to the brewing table and pulls out a sleeping draught from the little supply box Regulus keeps on the bottom shelf, just for him. It smells familiar and warm, and as he settles back on the bed the taste of lavender and chamomile sooth his aching nerves. 

He wonders how long he can go on pretending Regulus is still on his side. He wonders how much longer he’ll have a little box of sleeping potions safely tucked away on a shelf. 

It’s not like he’ll end things if he ever is forced to face the truth. James is confident he’d never leave Regulus- he doesn’t have nearly enough self respect for that. Besides, then who’d be there to keep him safe?

Safe. 

Like James has ever successfully kept someone safe. 

Guilt, all too familiar and all too punishing, starts to crawl beneath his skin. 

Remus was saved by a potion that Snape, of all people, researched and brewed. Regulus still goes back to that house every break, a dark mark branded into his skin. His father-

No. 

He really, really doesn’t want to think about his father right now.

The lavender swirls around his essence and James lays back against the pillows, burying himself in their warmth. It’s easier to sleep than continue down whatever path this line of thinking usually takes him on. He lets the potion drag him down. 

He wakes, what feels like hours later, to the sound of a door shutting. He sits up quickly, swiping sleep from his eyes and blinking rapidly. Regulus, small and skinny in the soft light, stands at the entrance.

A flood of relief sweeps through James, as it always does when he sees Regulus after a long period of time. Despite how tense things may be between them, the sight of him eases a bundle of anxiety James didn’t know he was carrying. “Reg,” he murmurs, and moves to the edge of the bed cautiously. 

“You were sleeping,” Regulus says, clearing his throat when the words come out as a whisper. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“No, I slept long enough. Don’t worry. I’d rather be awake with you, anyway.” He doesn’t understand why those words seem to make Regulus so miserable. 

“Right. I- right.” Regulus runs a hand through his hair and James is overcome with the need to hug him. He starts rising off the bed before- 

“Where’s the potions table?”

He pauses. Glances around. Sucks in a breath. Because Regulus is right. Where the potions bench used to be, where it was just before he fell asleep, there’s now a blank space punctuated by a shag carpet. “Oh,” he says after a moment, and sinks back on to the bed. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I. Oh.” He rubs his eyes, squeezing them shut. “We don’t need one anymore. The room knows that, I guess.”

“Why wouldn’t we- what about your fathers potions?”

James gives an awkward laugh that doesn’t really come out very humorous at all. “Ah. Yeah. I told him to stop taking them.”

Regulus's gaze snaps to his, eyes blazing. “What?”

James shakes his head, ignoring the vast amount of feeling rising up his throat. “No, well. I told him it was his choice. And obviously, since he was so resistant the first time, he decided to… stop all together.” He looks away then, the sting behind his eyes too much to face. The wall suddenly becomes very interesting as he tries to push past the knot in his throat. “It always was his choice. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have forced him.”

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, gentle and soothing as it slips over his bicep and back up, rubbing comforting patterns into his skin. Regulus, who’d somehow silently slipped up behind him in bed, softly brushes the hair away from his eyes and readjusts his glasses. James shudders under his touch as Regulus wraps his arms around him from behind, pulling him into the gentlest of hugs. 

And James- 

James breaks.

He turns with a small whimper, engulfing Regulus in his arms and burying his head in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of parchment and rain. “I missed you,” he murmurs, voice clogged and choked with emotion.

Regulus takes a shuddering breath and presses a feather-light kiss to the top of his head. “I missed you too.” A hand settles in his hair as Regulus exhales. “I’m sorry about your father, James. I… I really wish we could’ve saved him.”

“We did,” James mumbles. “For a minute there, we did.”

“I’m glad we got that minute then,” Regulus hums. “Even if it didn’t last.”

James pulls back, and sees it in Regulus’s eyes. The sadness. Regulus opens his mouth, studying James’s face. After a second, he closes it, and some of James’s fear dissipates. Instead Regulus reaches out and cups his face with the two gentlest hands James has ever known. Pulling him in, he kisses him long and soft, lips brushing against his just so. 

James leans into it, pressing his body against Regulus’s torso. He settles a hand on his waist, another arm looping around his back to pull him closer. 

Regulus hums against his lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against James’s. “I’m proud of you,” he says gently. “For letting him go. For letting him make his own choice, even if it hurts.”

The words cut something deep inside James and he flushes, dipping his head to bury his face in the crook between Regulus’s neck and shoulder. “I really thought I could save him,” he mumbles. There are tears hesitating on his lashes, he knows. 

“Some people can’t be saved.” Regulus says after a moment. “Some people don’t want to be.” 

James really doesn’t like the sound of that. 

Before he can stop himself, he presses a light kiss to Regulus’s neck. Then another. Then another. He’s just so warm and smooth and he tastes so sweet, he can’t help it. 

Soon enough Regulus’s breath starts to hitch and he buries his hand in James’s hair. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.” James murmurs against his skin. “I missed you. And I… I don’t want to think anymore.”

Regulus tilts his head, granting James more access. “...alright,” he murmurs after a moment. “Me neither. Continue, then.”

James leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses up Regulus neck, below his ear, across his cheek to his mouth. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and licks inside, swallowing Regulus’s soft sound. Here, in their bed, with Regulus's warm body firmly tucked in his arms, is where he’s meant to be. He’s certain. 

Regulus leans back against the bed, pulling James down with him. James goes willingly, settling his body between Regulus’s legs, pressed against his chest. He’s so soft.

Regulus studies him with those glittering eyes, brows drawing together slightly. “James, mon soleil,” he whispers, and something about this feels different to James. Sadder. Final. 

“Don’t,” he murmurs back, and leans down to capture Regulus’s lips before he can speak again. 

Regulus’s nimble fingers find the edge of his shirt, sliding beneath it and running over the bare muscles of James’s torso. James knows what he wants and obliges, pulling his shirt up and off.

He makes no move to do the same for Regulus.

Regulus reaches up and removes James’s glasses, leaning over to set them on the bedside table. He runs a thumb under James’s eye, smiling softly. James rests his forehead against Regulus’s, until they’re close enough to share a breath. 

He keeps his eyes locked on his face as he slowly starts to slide his hand down between their bodies. When Regulus’s lashes flutter on his cheeks as his lips part, James is sure it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

---

Regulus has been watching James sleep for the last twenty minutes, lost in thought. 

He too had drifted off, head nestled on James’s shoulder. But then he’d blinked awake and extracted himself carefully, deciding if he had to stay there any longer he’d never find the courage to do what he has to. 

He settled himself on the couch instead, knees tucked up to his chest and head resting on his palm as he stared at James’s sleeping face. His chest rises and falls, messy curls spilling across his forehead. 

Merlin, Regulus is going to miss him. 

Regulus swallows. The tears he’s been holding back for the better part of two days threaten to fall, and he can’t have that. He wipes his eyes frantically, taking a shuddering breath. He can do this. He’s a Black, and the heir of Slytherin. He is not afraid. 

But maybe… 

Maybe he’ll just wait till James wakes up. Maybe he’ll let him rest a little longer.

As much as he knows losing Monty will hurt James, a selfish part of him is a little relieved. He was worried about the potions complicating things. Of course he wouldn’t stop brewing them but it’d be… difficult, after. At least now, the decision has been made for him. 

Besides, this will be better for everyone. Fleamont’s illness was born from a death eater attack- keeping the Potters away from the Blacks seems to be the safest course of action for all involved. 

“Reg?”

Regulus closes his eyes, not looking at the bed. Go back to sleep, he wants to beg, because he isn’t ready. He’ll never be ready. 

“Come back to bed,” James mumbles sleepily. “Why ar’you all the way over there?”

Regulus still doesn’t look at him, staring blankly at the ground. He says nothing, unable to find the words.

He hears James sit up, sheets rustling. “Regulus?”

Regulus does look at him then, trying not to let the tears hesitating on his lashes spill. He watches as James takes in his expression and reevaluates, straightening in bed. “What’s- what’s wrong?”

Regulus swallows harshly. He thinks about the way James’s name sounded on the Dark Lord’s lips, venomous and full of hate. A target. “We need to talk.”

James’s entire body stiffens, staring at him with those eyes. “No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“And you think now’s a good time? When I’m still naked and warm in our bed?”

The word our strikes Regulus in the core, igniting a fresh ache. “Put on a shirt, then. It- It has to be now.”

“Reg-” There’s a hint of panic lacing James’s tone as he grabs his trousers and shirt, slipping them on quickly and pushing back the covers. 

“We need to talk,” Regulus says again, ignoring the way every heartbeat feels like pressing on a bruise. 

“I-”

“We need to stop seeing each other.”

James doesn’t move for a long second, hovering at the edge of the bed as he stares. Regulus watches with bated breath, silently begging James to give in, to accept it, to stay safe. James blinks at him, lips parting. “...No.”

Regulus’s heart sinks. “James.”

“No. You don’t get to fucking do this.”

“You have to listen to me-”

“No I don’t.”

“He said your name, James. The Dark Lord put a target on your back because of me .”

James shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as he grabs his glasses from the bedside table. “I don’t care.”

Regulus gestures in frustration. “You don’t get it. You’re in danger now, James. Every important Death Eater has been instructed to bring you in if they-”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

Regulus rises off the couch, an inch away from begging. “Please. Please don’t make me do this to you. Please let me keep you out of this. It never should’ve gotten this far. You were never supposed to be brought into this. If I wasn’t such a liability-”

“You’re not a liability. I love you.”

Regulus lets out a choked noise, pressing his face into his hands. Why doesn’t he understand? “James, Jamie, please. You have to go. We have to stop this. I can’t watch you get hurt because of me. I won’t.”

James crosses to him, gaze just as stubborn as always. “But you want this, don’t you? You want me?”

Regulus drags in a shaky breath. “That doesn’t matter. Fucking listen to me. You’re going to get hurt- because of me. They’re going to find you. He’s going to find you. And if you end up cold and dead somewhere because I couldn't control my heart, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. You have to go. This has to end.” He’s frantic now, desperation bleeding off him in waves. 

“That’s so unbelievably hypocritical-”

“I can take it. You can’t.”

James narrows his eyes. “How-”

“I’m used to it. I’m used to them. You’re not. You wouldn’t last one minute under Bella’s wand. That’s why-”

“It’s not up to you,” James says, eyes piercing and direct. “You don’t get to make this decision.”

And really, he’s left Regulus no choice. 

In his defense, he tried.

“James,” he says, voice breaking. 

He reaches for his sleeve, fingers closing around the edge of the fabric. 

Suddenly there's a hand on his forearm, grip tight and bruising, holding his sleeve down. Regulus looks up in surprise, meeting James’s wide and desperate eyes. “Don’t,” He whispers. “Please. Don’t.”

“You know,” Regulus murmurs, and James nods. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out, sending Regulus’s last hope crashing down around his feet. “I know.”

Regulus feels himself go weak, gasping for breath. Because- because he thought James would hate him for this. Because he thought he’d curse him and send him away, disgusted by the sight of him. Because if that didn’t work, what else is there? “How long?” 

“Long enough for it not to make a difference.” James says, not moving his hand from Regulus’s arm.

“But-”

“Why did you get the mark, Reg?”

“...I wanted it.”

“No. Be honest.”

“They would’ve killed me.”

James nods. “I don’t care what they’ve made you do. I know- I know you aren’t one of them. I know you don’t think like that. I know you’re different. I don’t care about this.” he squeezes Regulus’s wrist gently. “I don’t care about what you’ve had to do. I care about you. I need to keep you safe. I need to be there. I can’t- Regulus, you can’t ask me to-”

“I’m a bloody Death Eater,” Regulus hisses, terror gradually filling him up. He needs James to listen, needs James to understand. “I represent everything you hate. I’ve hurt people. I’ve tortured them. I’ve done awful things, horrible things-”

“No,” James starts, shaking his head. 

“You remember the Basilisk? You met her once.” Every inch of his body is burning now, twin flames of self loathing and desperation. “I cut her fangs from her mouth. One by one, till there were none left. I used the knife my mother gave me.”

James’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back, finally letting go of his wrist. “Reg.”

“And you know why I did it?” Regulus spits. “Because the Dark Lord asked me to. Because he’d kill Sirius if I didn’t. I spent a year gaining her trust, befriending her, and then I- I-” He shudders into a sob, words breaking apart. His shoulders are shaking, he realizes. “And Harold. That time I went missing, I was helping the Dark Lord torture an innocent man. I crucioed him, till he was screaming, till he was begging for death, and I-” He can’t speak anymore, can only sob, wrapping his arms around himself as tight as possible. “I-”

Suddenly large hands rest on his arms, lowering him carefully to the ground. He goes willing, nothing in him strong enough to resist. He hates this, hates the tears running down his face, hates that this is the most broken he’s ever been and it’s in front of James fucking Potter. James pulls him in, running a soothing hand in circles on his back.

“It’s alright, love,” he murmurs in that stupid, stupid, god-awful voice. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Regulus can only gasp, short and desperate. “Why can’t you just hate me?”

James chuckles, low and soft. “I don’t think that's possible. We've all made mistakes. God knows I've made my fair share. Those things you did? You had to do them. You were protecting Sirius, or yourself. You had no choice. You think I don’t see that? You think I don’t understand? I’m so sorry that you ever had to make those decisions. I’m so fucking sorry.”

"But-"

"Do you support blood supremacy? Do you believe all muggles should die?"

Regulus closes his eyes. "Will you believe me if I say yes?"

James smiles. "Nah. Not really." He reaches out to wipe a tear from Regulus's cheek. "You're a good person, love."

And that is just so blatantly untrue that Regulus almost wants to laugh. 

“He’s going to hurt you. Your tie to me is going to get you killed. I’m going to get you killed.”

James hums. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? You said there was no greater sin than loving you. And here I am, burning. And I’d gladly burn, love, always. For eternity. If it means I can keep you, I’ll walk into your dagger forever.” 

Regulus pulls back slowly, a dark sort of despair starting to creep over him from every angle. It’s hopelessness, he realizes after a second. That’s what's consuming him. Endless, desolate, hopelessness. “He’s going to kill you,” he whispers again, and means it.

Because his occlumency may be good, but it can’t hold forever. It already broke once, and such a small slip up led to James being singled out as a target. He can’t imagine what will happen when Bellatrix finds a way through his defenses. If- or, when- Voldemort discovers their connection… Regulus shudders at the thought. He’d use James as leverage, the second he got a chance. Or, worse, eliminate him as a threat. He’d go after all the Potters, Euphemia and Fleamont included. No one would be safe. And if he got a chance to look into James’s head, he’d find thousands of other names and places that would all become instant targets.

Remus.

Dorcas.

Sirius.

How stupidly selfish he’d been to ever fall in love with James Potter. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He breathes, barely realizing he said the words out loud. He’d laid himself bare for James, showed him all his ugliest parts. The mark, the things he’s done… 

And James had loved him anyway. 

So what was he supposed to do?

“Find Evans,” he murmurs, looking up. “Find Evans and settle down with her, start a family and stay away from this war.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“She’s pretty enough, isn’t she? Smart, too.”

James smiles. “Yes. She’s very pretty. And smart.” 

Regulus nods, because yes. That’s it. (The words don’t hurt. They don’t slice into some jealous part of himself he never knew he had. Really, they don’t.) “Yes. Exactly. You and her, James. You belong together.”

“No,” James says softly, reaching out to brush Regulus’s hair behind his ear. “That would never work. Lily’s lovely. But I want you, Reg. I want you in a way I never wanted her.”

“Don’t,” Regulus whispers, the last of his options going down the drain. 

“Also, I’m never going to stop fighting. You have to know that. I’m joining the Order as soon as they’ll let me, and I’m fighting for Dumbledore.”

“They’ll kill you.”

James shrugs. “Then I die for a noble cause. There are worse fates.”

Regulus feels himself crack. “For once, would you stop being such a bloody Gryffindor and think about everyone you’d leave behind? So many people- so many people love you so much, James. You can’t just throw your life away like it means nothing. You can’t. It’s not fair.”

“They’ll survive. I’m going to fight,” James persists. “For you. To keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. You can say you don’t want this, you can push me away, but I’ll always love you. I’ll always find my way to you.”

“You promised,” Regulus whispers, voice catching. “You promised you wouldn’t try to save me.”

James gives him a sad smile. “I told you I was a good liar.”

Regulus stares at him for a long time, taking slow and even breaths. What else is there to do? What hasn’t he already tried? There has to be something. He refuses to give up.

He won’t let James die for him. 

He won’t. 

But what can he do? He’s clean out of options. He’s tried everything, save-

Wait.

No.

It’s insane.

It’s awful. 

But James is so, so stubborn. 

And Regulus is so, so desperate.

Besides, being close to Regulus, that's no life. All that brings is pain. Regulus needs to set him free. He deserves to be free. He deserves to find a girl and a house and a life free from the burden of guilt and the sense of responsibility that comes alongside loving Regulus. 

He should’ve thought this through. Of course James would follow him anywhere. Of course he wouldn’t let him go so easily. James Potter loves with his whole heart, and once he’s got his claws in you he never lets go. Not really. Not voluntarily. 

Regulus looks down, one hand sneaking into his back pocket, tucked into his robes where James can’t see. He has to do it, he supposes. It’s the only option he has left. “I've been miserable my whole life.” he says, meeting James’s eyes. “The only time I'm not is when I’m with you. You make everything brighter, James Potter, and you deserve so much better than me.”

James shakes his head. “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”

“I love you,” Regulus whispers, needing him to hear it. Needing him to understand. “I will always love you. Ever since I boarded that train, you've been the only one for me. I tried hating you, for so long, because of Sirius. Because I thought you stole him from me. But-" He laughs, choked and soft. "I understand. I'd leave it all for you too, if I could. He had the chance I never did, but if I was in his shoes, I'd make the same exact choice. You're worth everything."

"What are you doing?" James asks cautiously. 

Regulus shrugs, wiping a tear from his cheek and giving him a sad smile. "Saying things I should've said a lot earlier. I just need you to know. I hope you find someone who can give you everything you deserve."

James shakes his head. "Regulus-"

"I figured- I figured I was Icarus, in the story. I thought I was going to fall because I couldn’t get out of this labyrinth. But you- risking it all for me- I can’t give you wings, James. I can’t even let you build them yourself. Watching them melt would destroy me.”

James’s chocolate eyes flick up to meet his and Regulus takes the time to lean in and press a long lingering kiss to his lips. It’s soft and gentle, warm and perfect. Final. “You’re the love of my life,” He says, and means every word. 

James doesn’t notice the wand Regulus has pressed to his temple until it’s too late.

When he finally catches on, his eyes go wide with understanding, face draining of color. “Reg, wai-”

“Obliviate.”