No Greater Sin

“The Birdmans have invited us to their annual Easter Gala.” Effie tucks the letter back in its envelope and looks up at Sirius and Remus, smiling. “We can bring you two, of course.”

Remus looks at Sirius nervously, clearing his throat. “I… uh. I’m not very experienced with high-end events.” 

James shakes his head. “It’s not like that, mate. Well. Sort of. But it’s fine. The adults dance and talk and the kids are pretty much left alone to do whatever. It’s fun. And there’s free food and drink.”

Sirius nods. “And don’t worry about the dress-robes- I think Monty should have some you can borrow. Effie, when is it?”

“Tomorrow night. Should I write back and say I’m bringing two extra?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mum.” James smiles, leaning back against the couch. “As long as you don’t make us dance.”

“Oh, I’m certain none of you know how.”

“Excuse you! Some of us are actually educated.” Sirius intones.

Remus gives him an incredulous look. “You can ballroom dance?”

Sirius shrugs. “I guess there are some perks to growing up in a Sacred 28 house. Free dance lessons included. 

“No shit.”

“Here- up you get. I’ll teach you. It’s not that hard, really.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Up! Up!” Sirius grabs Remus’s arm and yanks him off the couch, ignoring his protests and leading him to the middle of the room. Effie walks over and takes a seat next to James, eyes glittering with faint amusement. 

Sirius lifts Remus’s arm. “Ok. Put your hand here. No, here. Good. And then I do this and we…” 

Sirius brings himself close to Remus’s chest and off they go. It’s awkward, at first. Stilted and blocky, their feet mismatched and ungraceful. Sirius isn’t that great of a teacher, kicking Remus’s feet into the right places instead of just telling him what he’s doing wrong. 

But, eventually, they get it. Remus learns where to step without being guided and Sirius starts adapting to his mistakes and movements. He coos soft praises and leans in, resting his head on Remus’s chest. 

James is certain he’s never seen Remus’s face turn that particular shade of red before. 

Effie chuckles next to him and then she’s up too, pulling James after her. “Come on. I have to make sure you’re not out of practice.”

“Mum.” he complains, but lets her drag him next to Sirius and Remus. He, to no one’s surprise, is definitely out of practice. His muscle memory kicks in after a minute and he figures it out, swaying with his mother and turning her in what he hopes are the correct directions. A wave of her scent hits him and suddenly he’s sucker punched by a wave of longing so strong he instinctively tightens his grip on her arms.

He’s missed her, he realizes. 

Badly. 

Horribly. 

He’s been so focused on his worry for his father he’d let himself forget, at least a little, about his mother. 

After a moment she pulls back and elbows Sirius. “You boys should sort out what to wear tomorrow. James, maybe you should go ask your father for some robes for Remus?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Come on, Moony.”

---

James grabs a flute of champagne from a waiter and plops down at their small table, taking a sip and scanning the scene. The Gala is exactly what he expected, a dance floor in the middle with live music to the side. At one end of the hall there’s a large table with small sandwiches and drinks, surrounded by small children desperate to sneak a treat. 

“This place is insane,” Remus murmurs, craning his neck to look up at the high ceiling. “I mean, did you see that chandelier?”
James shrugs. “Not how I’d personally choose to spend my money, but you know. To each their own.”

“There must be thirty bedrooms here. What a waste.”

Sirius winks. “Not if you make good use out of them.”

“Pervert.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Remus glances around. “And you two are… used to this?”

James winces. “Eh- yeah. Kind of.”

Sirius runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “This is small, compared to the things my parents dragged us to. I only see, like, one ice sculpture here.” 

“There’s a chocolate fountain, though.”

“True. Shall we sample?”

James rises, setting his empty champagne flute down and mock-bowing, gesturing Sirius forward. “After you, good sir.”

The three of them make their way over to the table, picking at the sandwiches and fruit. Sirius attempts to demonstrate the magical fountain that spews any type of chocolate you want and James busies himself with a single strawberry.

“Hi,” a smooth voice says behind him. James turns, slightly surprised. The boy in front of him has dark red hair and a smattering of light freckles. He’s also incredibly good looking. 

“Hi,” James says back, blinking. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

The other boy shrugs, smiling lightly. “I’m here every year. And I was one or two grades above you at Hogwarts, if that helps.” 

“Oh, Fabian, right? Fabian Prewett?”

Fabian smiles. “I’m shocked you remember me.” 

James shakes his head, grinning. “How could I forget? You were on the quidditch team. Quite good, if my memory serves.”

“High praise from the captain himself,” Fabian says, leaning up against the table next to him. “I hear things are going well. No doubt a result of your excellent leadership?”

James shrugs. “What can I say? It’s a good team.”

“Maybe you’re just a good captain.”

And that was definitely flirty, wasn’t it? Maybe it’s a challenge, a light poke easily denied if James doesn’t reciprocate. Testing the waters, so to speak. Shit, now James is blushing. Great. He’s usually a lot slicker than this. He flashes his smoothest grin. “I learned from the best.“

Fabian smirks, and it looks like victory. “So, James, how’s your 8th year going?”

James shrugs. “Eh. You know. Final exams are a bitch.”

Fabian nods, dark eyes finding James’s. “You’re smart. I trust you’ll manage.”

Shit, he’s good. James really needs to catch up. He knows how to flirt with girls- turning on the charm is so incredibly easy it often works too well. But guys… he only recently realized he likes blokes as well, and he has no idea what to do with that. Then again, he gets the sense neither of them are here to build a meaningful emotional connection. 

“Enjoying the party?” James asks, bracing himself on the table and learning in a bit. 

“More now,” Fabian says, then winces, slightly bashful. Turns out his blush mixes with his freckles nicely. James finds he likes the sight very much. “Ah. That was a bit…”

“Nah, it’s alright,” James says, tilting his head slightly. He’s suddenly aware that Sirius and Remus are nowhere to be found. “I get what you mean. A little boring, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. Not very interesting when there’s nothing to… do.”

Then their eyes meet, and that’s that. 

---

Fabian pushes James through the first door they find, lips already locked. James brings his hand up to thread through Fabian's hair, moving them back to the bed. He’s strong and firm underneath him, large hands maneuvering James till they’re rolling over on the mattress. He tugs at his tie, pulling it off so his dress robes slip down over his shoulder.  

“Shit,” Fabian hisses as James ducks down to kiss his neck. “You’re so good at that.”

James smiles against his skin, moving back up to capture his lips. “Your turn.”

Fabian grins and dips his head, sucking a dark mark into James’s skin. “You’re sure your friends won’t miss you?”

“Oh, they’re probably- ah - doing the same thing somewhere else.”

Fabian hums, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Interesting.”

Fabian pushes James back on the bed, licking into his mouth and moving to straddle his hips, sliding a hand under the hem of James’s shirt. 

It’s nice, James thinks, losing yourself in another person. Fabian is all warmth and soft skin, lips and fingers smoothing over the unrest of the past year. James doesn’t have to think like this. There’s no pressure here. 

Then Fabian’s fingers skim over his skin and-

Suddenly James can’t breathe, Fabian’s touch turning rotten and burning against him. It’s not right, something in his mind screams. None of this is right. He doesn’t want Fabian, doesn’t want his hands or his smooth fingers. No one gets to touch James like that. No one. No one except-

James moves off Fabian, turning his head to the side and taking deep gulps of air. Fabian instantly rolls away, giving him space. “James? Hey- did I do something wrong?”

James waves a hand, sitting up. “No- it’s fine. You’re fine. I just- I just needed a breather.”

What was he thinking?

Fabian is hot, and into him, and there’s no reason not to go for it. He’d been feeling fine- better than fine, really- just a second ago. What changed?

He’s not sure. 

“I’m fine.” James says again, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just- just come here.”

Fabian studies him for a moment before leaning in carefully, cupping James’s cheek. He smooths his thumb over his skin and James has to actively force himself to not pull away. This isn’t what he’s here for. That look in Fabian’s eyes, that soft and gentle emotion, makes his skin crawl with disgust. It isn’t right. 

But Fabian’s really, really good looking.

And there’s no reason James shouldn’t want this. 

So. 

James shoves forward, pushing Fabian back onto the bed and knocking his hand away from his face. He kisses him hard, slipping his tongue into his mouth and straddling his hips. He pulls his shirt up and off, ignoring the way his stomach turns at the feel of Fabian’s hands on his waist. 

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Fabian whispers, and James lets out a low groan, wishing he’d shut up.

“Don’t talk,” he murmurs, and captures his lips again. 

His kiss is rough and deep, nearly bruising in nature. James wishes it was softer, gentler. He wishes the body under him was slighter, with curls he could bury his hands in instead of straight short strands. He pushes that thought away, confused and aching with something he can’t quite name. He wonders if he’s had too much champagne. 

Fabian takes hold of his waist and rolls him over, smiling when James can’t help but shudder under him.

It’s fine, James thinks. Get yourself under fucking control.  

After, as Fabian lays panting on the bed with his dress robes falling open, James rises quickly. He finds his shirt, yanking it down over his head as he lets the warm post-orgasm glow calm his heart rate. He glances back to the bed, grinning when he sees Fabian’s blissed out expression. “I- ah. I don’t want to be rude, but I should go find my friends.”

Fabian watches him, eyes twinkling. “Go for it.”

James winks. “I hope I made the party a bit more interesting.”

Fabian huffs out a laugh. “You certainly did. Merlin. Maybe I’ll see you at the next one?”

James shrugs, smirking. “If you’re lucky. I’ve still got a quidditch championship to win.”

“I have faith. I’ll celebrate with you after.”

“Bye, Fabian.”

“Bye James.” Fabian gives him a small little wave. “It was nice catching up.”

James finds Sirius and Remus back at the table, waiting for him. Effie’s nowhere to be found, probably still talking with her friends somewhere near the music. It’s alright, she’s told them they can leave without her. Sirius whistles when James sits down, bumping his shoulder. “Did you have fun, Prongs?”

James smiles, leaning back in his chair and surveying the dance floor. “Something like that.”

“God,” Sirius fake-groans, pulling James’s collar down to observe the marks on his neck. “Can’t take you anywhere, can we?”

“Oh, like you can talk. I don’t even wanna know what you two get up to in our dorm.”

Sirius laughs, but when James looks to Remus he finds him studying him with an indiscernible expression. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I- nothing. Should we head out? James, do you need to say goodbye to Fabian?”

“Nah, already did. It’s fine. I’d like to go home.”

Sirius stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Off we go, then.”

He leads them to the door, stepping out just as Remus catches James’s arm. James looks up, confused. “Are you ok?” Remus murmurs, eyes soft and searching. 

“I’m fine,” James says instinctually. “Just… just a bit of a headache.”

“Come on. Both of you.” Sirius snaps, and they scamper down to grab on to his arm as he disapperates. 

They land in front of Potter manor, all groaning. 

“Pads,” James complains. “You’ve got to get better at that.”

“I just learned! And we’re in the right spot!”

“Yeah,” Remus comments drily. “But I feel like my stomach was just ripped out and put back wrong. I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that.”

“Of course it is!”

Still bickering, the two of them head inside. 

James watches them go, letting the door close before he sags into himself, grabbing the garden fence post for support. He takes a deep breath, then another. 

James swallows and looks up at the stars, trying to pick out as many constellations as he can. It’s calming, a little. There’s some cosmic familiarity to them, as if the knowledge of their consistency and permanence almost helps ground him.  

He thinks about his night, about the champagne and the dancing and the laughter. He thinks about Fabian’s touch and kiss, slipping over his skin. He tries to remember how good it felt to be held. He had fun with Fabian. He did, honestly. Once he pushed past the stuffy emotions and sickening thoughts he let himself relax into the physicality of it all. It was nice to let his mind go quiet for a bit. 

So why does he feel so fucking guilty?

---

“Legilimens.” 

Regulus stays standing, this time. His legs are trembling, maybe, but he’s upright, and his head barely hurts anymore. He feels, for once, a strange sense of calm. He shoves Bella out as soon as she tries, pushing her magic back instantly. He glares at her, chest rising and falling. 

“You’re getting good.” She hums, circling him. He turns with her, watching, ready. 

“Is there a point to this?”

“Is there a point to training you? I’d say yes.”

Regulus grits his teeth. “I’ve trained. I’m trained.”

“He might be right, Bella.” Narcissa, leaning against the wall of the courtyard, gives her sister a cool look. The dusk casts a shadowy glow over her blond hair. “He’s getting good.”

Bella looks back at Regulus, eyes intense. “Mm. Maybe. He folded pretty easily under the Dark Lord’s spell the other day, if memory serves.”

“That’s the Dark Lord. Do you mean to compare your skills to his?”

Bellatrix squints at her sister, unhappy. “Of course not. But-”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I-”

“Legilimens!”

To her credit, it takes him by surprise. He stumbles back as her magic shoves through his defenses, quick as anything. It doesn’t take long to throw up his mental walls, locking the door and drowning his thoughts. She pulls back with a hiss, frowning. 

Narcissa laughs lightly. “Maybe it’s time to let it go, Bella.”

He tucks his hair behind his ears. It’s getting long again. “I’m done. I’m going inside to practice violin.”

“Brat,” Bella hisses, but surprisingly lets him go. 

He makes it to the door before Kreature appears, looking nervous. “Master Regulus, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Pandora?”

“...No, sir. Crouch. And Rosier, Kreature thinks. At the door.”

Regulus groans, running a hand through his hair. “Did they say what they want?”

Kreature shifts, tugging at his pillowcase. “Something about a… concert, Master?”

“Oh, fuck them. Fine.” Regulus makes his way to the door and yanks it open, already scowling. “What?”

“Reggie!” Barty jumps up from where he’s been sitting on the stoop, Evan leaning against the wall. “We’re here to take you away.”

“You need to start learning the art of letter writing,” Regulus intones. “It would be helpful, sometimes, to know when you’re coming.”

“We’re here now! The Hungry Horntails are playing at the London Wizarding Hall. We’re going.”

“We’re not.”

Evan pushes off the wall. “I guess, if you wanted to, you could stay here sulking all night with your house-elf.”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “Don’t bring Kreature into this.”

“Just tell your mother you’re making a personal call. We’ll get you back before midnight. And, hey- last time we did this I seem to remember you having some fun.”

Regulus raises his brows. “Susan made it fun, not you idiots.”

“I still don’t know who Susan is,” Evan mutters to himself as Barty waves his hand.

“Come on. We’ll let you take the tube?”

And, well.

Regulus does like the tube. 

“Fine. But I’m getting changed.”

The tube turns out to be crowded, forcing Regulus, Evan, and Barty to huddle together in the middle. “This is ridiculous,” Barty mutters. “Honestly. When we can apparate.”

Regulus leans into the sway of the train, staring at the map on the wall and ignoring his friend. It’s so handy, he thinks, to have the streets all laid out like that in neat little lines. Muggles have to pick a destination, map a route, figure out times and logistics. Wizards just have to envision the exact spot they want to appear. He imagines, because of that, muggles must have a better understanding of the city. He’s sort of jealous, in an odd way. 

The London Wizarding Hall, or the LWH, is mostly underground. The cavern is huge, its towering ceilings hanging with stalactites. The stage at the end has been carved from the stone, the name “Hungry Horntails” temporarily etched into the front. 

He recognizes a lot of his classmates dispersed throughout the cavern. The band is just about done setting up by the time they get there, giving them enough time to worm their way up to the front of the crowd before the first note blasts out. 

The Hungry Horntails are… fine. Passable, as far as wizard rock goes. The bass is loud and the drums are louder, quieting any unnecessary thoughts in Regulus’s head. It’s better than the stifling quiet of Grimmauld Place. He sways to the music, glancing over at Barty and Evan on occasion. Evan, slightly taller, has his elbow resting on Barty’s shoulder. It’s the closest they’ll get to public affection. 

Regulus finds himself transfixed by the way the guitarist’s fingers move over the strings, dancing and tapping so lightly it made his violin look severe by comparison. He hums to himself, wondering if he’d be any good at guitar. Susan played, he remembers distantly. She thought he didn’t know what a guitar was. For a second he wonders if she’s here, before dismissing that thought as quickly as it arrives. She’s a muggle. This is a wizard venue. She’ll be up top somewhere, having a drink with her friends and flirting with boys, hopefully with a bit more luck than she had with Regulus. 

It’s hot, the large cave walls trapping the crowd’s body heat in. He distantly wonders what it’s like in the summer if this is the level it’s at now. He thinks it’s a little funny- a room full of wizards and they can’t cast enough cooling charms to keep the temperature down. 

He taps Barty’s arm and jerks his head to tell him where he’s going and heads off, ducking through the crowd to the toilets. He pushes the door open and- pauses. 

Shit. 

This was a mistake. 

James Potter looks up from where he’s washing his hands, eyes landing on Regulus instantly. 

Distantly Regulus wonders if there’s time to shut the door and pretend nothing happened. But then James is calling his name and talking to him so, no. There’s not. 

He isn’t sure he can do this. 

“Regulus? What are you doing here?” James’s eyes are wide and fixed on him, tap still running. Regulus summons the last of his courage and closes the door behind him, stepping into the bathroom and moving towards the sink. 

“Same thing you are, Potter.”

“Are you here with someone? Crouch and them?”

Regulus nods, not looking at him. He flicks on the water and turns it to cold, splashing it over his face and neck in an attempt to cool himself down. 

“Listen, this is good actually. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Regulus shuts his eyes briefly. “I should get back to the concert.”

James waves a hand. “They suck anyway. I’ve been thinking. About my father.”

Regulus’s chest clenches painfully. “I thought-”

“Yeah, yeah, you said, but what if we just tried? I know you don’t think it’ll work, but we haven't even given it a go.”

“Because it’s pointless. It’s an incurable disease.”

“To you, maybe.”

Regulus crinkles his nose. “To everyone!”

“I happen to have more faith in you than that.”

“I must not be as good as you think I am.”

James tilts his head. “I highly doubt that.” 

“But-”

“I told you. I talked to Slughorn. He says you’re the best.” 

“So why don’t you ask him, then?”

James scoffs. “He’s a teacher. You’re a student.”

“And?”

“And you can be convinced easier than he can.” 

“Have you forgotten who my family is?” Regulus can feel himself relaxing into this conversation, which is decidedly not a good idea. 

“I’m hoping that maybe, deep down, you aren’t like them.”

Regulus shakes his head, straightening to face him. This is torture. “What makes you think I’d help you either way?”

James shrugs, leaning against the counter with that same crooked grin. “I just get that sense. And all the reasons you’ve given me have been practical, not moral.”

“Well. You’re wrong.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes. I happen to dislike you very much.”

“Mhm. Yet for some reason you’re still here, talking to me.”

Regulus flushes, crossing his arms. “You’ve cornered me.”

James raises a brow. “Have I?” He gestures to all the empty space and room for Regulus to walk around him. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Regulus starts around him but James grabs his arm before he can get too far. Already the touch turns his skin to satin. He turns to look at him but finds James just staring. “What?”

“You… I was gonna say… but-”

“Spit it out.”

James swallows, and Merlin, is he blushing? “You have your hair up.”

Regulus stares at him blankly. “What?”

“Your hair. You… you don’t put it up like that a lot.” 

Regulus glances at himself in the mirror, surprised. Since it’s been getting longer he’s been throwing it up in a semi-bun on the back of his head, just to get it out of the way before his mother cuts it again. He hadn’t thought much of it. “Uh… yeah.”

James cocks his head, eyes roving over his face. Regulus shifts under the weight of his gaze, thoroughly confused. “That’s new,” James says eventually. 

“Don’t get too attached, I’m cutting it before school.”

“No- don’t. I like it.”

What the fuck. 

Actually what the fuck. 

Regulus suddenly can’t breathe, pinned under the heat in James’s eyes. “Potter, I-”

“You’re being unusually nice to me today.” James frowns. “Actually. The other day, in the closet, you were nice then too. Why?”

Shit. 

“You’re right, I should really step it up.”

James stares at him for a long minute, and for some god forsaken reason, takes a step closer. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

“What am I, twelve?”

James smirks. “We both know this isn’t her scene.”

He’s too close. Granted, he’s like two feet away, but that’s still two close. Especially when Regulus can smell his cologne. Regulus grits his teeth. “She knows I’m… out.”

“Oh, a rule breaker.”

“I do plenty of things my mother doesn’t know about.”

James props a hand on the counter. “Yeah? Like what?”

Regulus looks up, damning himself and his weak will. Put up your walls, he thinks. Shut him out. Shut those memories out. 

They aren’t yours anymore.

They hardly even happened. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of a rebel than I thought, Reg.”

Be mean, he thinks. Be cruel. Drive him away. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

Which-

Was not what he meant to say. 

Fuck. 

James’s eyes glint behind his glasses. “Well, for starters, you’re here. At a concert, fairly late at night.”

“Secondly?”

Shut. Up.

“Secondly, once again, you're here. In this bathroom. Still talking to me. Your sworn enemy. Your estranged brother's best friend.”

Regulus needs to leave. He needs to leave right now. He doesn’t trust himself to be here one more second than necessary. “I tried to leave, if you recall. I remember you stopping me.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah? How’d you figure?”

James just stares at him. “You had your hair up.”

Regulus, self-conscious, tucks a loose curl behind his ear. “Fairly certain my brother wears his hair up at least half the week.”

“You aren’t Sirius.”

Be awful.

“Thank god. I’d hate to be that egotistic.”

Not nearly awful enough.

Instead of an angry comment, James just laughs. “He manages it well.”

“And, by the way, this is a two way street. You’re still engaging me in conversation.”

“Well, I have a point to make. And…”

“And?”

“For some reason, you’re easy to talk to. It’s-”

“Painful?”

“-natural.”

Shit, shit, shit-

Now they’re really too close. Honestly. This is getting out of hand. 

“Natural?”

“Mhm.” James scans his face, his brows furrowing. He says nothing for a long moment. “Why aren’t you as cruel as I remember?”

Regulus swallows. “Your memory may need some work, Potter.”

James just keeps watching him. “I’m starting to think you might be right.” He takes a breath, and another step. “Why are you still here, Reg?”

“I-” Regulus stops. He shuts his mouth firmly. Everything inside him crumbles into dust, heart slicing itself open. He can’t breathe, can’t think past the rushing in his ears. 

Because they’re standing close. Close enough Regulus can feel James’s breath. Close enough he can smell his cologne. Close enough he can see the three small purple marks on James’s neck. 

He takes a step back, then another. “I have no idea.” He says, and there it is. There’s the cruelty he’s been looking for. “Go back to your friends, Potter. And don’t talk to me about your father again. There isn’t anything to be done. One day you’re going to have to accept that clinging on to this false hope you’ve got will do nothing but make the process more painful for the both of you.” 

He ignores the way James’s expression shuts off, face going cold as he takes a step back. His eyes are wide, filled with hurt. Regulus turns around, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Get yourself together, he thinks. This is unacceptable. 

His eyes are already stinging with something he can’t name as he swallows quickly, pushing back through the crowd. The music doesn’t sound good anymore, loud and blaring and harsh against his ears. 

So what if James is hooking up with some mystery lover. So what if he’s already moved on. 

Not already, Regulus thinks. Not already. For James, it’s been a long time. 

For Regulus, it’s been three weeks. 

Fuck. 

The crowd presses in on him as he takes his place next to Barty and Evan, trying to control the shake in his shoulders. Jealousy is no new emotion, and there it is again, sinking its claws into Regulus’s stomach. No one should be able to touch or kiss James like that. No one should be able to feel the skin of his neck against his lips or run their fingers through his hair. 

No one but him. 

But James doesn’t know that. James can’t know that. 

So Regulus ignores the tears in his eyes and stares firmly at the stage. 

You’re supposed to be happy, some small voice in the back of his head says. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for.

And, really. Fuck that. 

Fuck everything. 

Regulus is miserable. 

---

James grabs the quaffle and tosses it up, letting Sirius swoop through and catch it. Then he ducks into a dive and James steals the ball from him, spiraling across the lawn. 

They’re on practice brooms, of course, but anything faster would probably tear up the Potter’s back lawn. Effie hoots from the ground when Sirius hipchecks James and sends him into a bit of a spiral. He rights himself and winks at his mother and Remus, ducking under Sirius and towards the makeshift goalpost. 

They play for a long time, pitching and diving across the grass. James ignores the ache in his chest in favor of the wind in his hair, the way his world is reduced to diving and ducking. 

When they come down, Effie’s already gone inside. Sirius goes to put the brooms away, accidentally sending everything in the shed crashing down in the process. 

James laughs, grinning, and when he turns around he finds Remus watching him carefully. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just interesting. You’ve looked happier recently.”

“Oh,” James says after a moment, watching Remus go help Sirius with the brooms. 

And he is happy, he thinks. Happier than he’s been in a long time. But this gap in his chest, this absence of something, has been with him just as long. He may be happier, but he isn’t whole.

He can’t seem to remember the last time he was.