Mon Soleil
Gryfindor wins the Quidditch Cup, of course. The final match is against Hufflepuff, under the fluffy clouds of a sunny summer Saturday. James scores the winning goal, which, really. It’s perfect. Everything.
The feeling of the air on his face, the brush of the wind through his hair, the screaming students in the stands. It hurts, how wide he’s smiling when he touches the ground.
Sirius throws his arms around him and James is laughing, throwing his head back, cackling into the light of the sun. It feels so fucking good. The crowd rushes in from the stands, and for a long, golden moment, everything else melts away.
His father is fine.
Hogwarts is safe.
The blank, consuming feeling in his chest, the mud in his mind, never existed.
Because it’s his final year, his best friend is hugging him, his team is surrounding him, and he just scored the winning goal in the Quidditch Cup.
It’s almost perfect.
It is perfect.
It is.
James grins as Marlene barrels into him, followed shortly by Remus- never one for Quidditch but breathless with joy all the same.
“We fucking did it,” Sirius gasps, glowing with happiness. “Thank fuck.”
James buries his face in Marlene’s hair and pulls Sirius closer, holding on to them with every last ounce of strength he has. “We did.”
Somewhere the band starts up, and everything is right.
The party that night turns out mildly insane. The only house not there is Hufflepuff- they decide to spend their time nursing their loss in a separate common room, away from the music and revelry. Someone found an extensive amount of firewhisky, Sirius takes charge of the record player, and the night gets even better.
James takes another swig of whisky and sighs, leaning his head back on the couch. He stares at the ceiling, relaxing into the energy of the party. “I don’t know what I was worried about. We’ve won for like, three years straight.”
Sirius sighs contentedly. “It’s true Prongs, you should really have some more faith in us.”
“Can’t beat the best.”
“No you can not.” Sirius leaps off the couch and goes to join the dancers in the middle of the room.
Peter traces a pattern into the carpet at their feet. “Were there any scouts at the game?”
“Loads,” James and Sirius say at the same time.
“Definitely,” James adds. “We’ll be noted for sure. I saw them scribbling during the match.”
“So it’s really happening, then?” Peter says, eyes glittering in the firelight. “You’re going pro after school?”
“Yeah, once the war ends.” James sits forward. “I bet someone saw that goal.”
“They had to have.”
“What about you, Pete? Where are you off to?”
Peter, looking slightly surprised at the question, shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“You like herbology. Couldn’t you… do something with that?”
“Like what?”
James wracks his brain for any profession pertaining to herbology. “Er… you could teach?”
Peter gives him a look. “Teach.”
“Yeah! Or, you know, you could be a healer. I know there are potion healers, but surely plants are like just as important.”
Peter waves a hand. “No one wants to be a healer anymore. Times are too stressful right now.”
James shakes his head, tipsy. “That’s not true. I know someone who does.”
Peter, obviously thinking over their friends, tilts his head. “Wait, who?”
James frowns. “I… I don’t remember.” he shrugs. “But you can’t have potions without plants, right?”
Peter sighs, flopping back on the carpet. He nearly spills his drink, but steadies it at the last minute. “I don’t want to spend my life cultivating something someone else can use. That’s such a… nondescript job.”
“You could always join Quidditch.”
Peter laughs, and it may just be in James's head but it sounds a little hollow. “I’m a little past my would-be prime, aren’t I? You should’ve asked me first year.”
James shrugs. “Never too late to hop on the broom.” he laughs, then stiffles it behind his hand. “Shit. there were totally scouts there, weren’t there?”
“Probably.” Remus chimes in. “But hey. You scored the winning goal. You were the best player out there.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Sirius.”
“I’m so telling Sirius.”
“Regardless- there’s no way you won’t get recruited, like, immediately.”
James lets out a breath. “Merlin, I hope so.”
Remus leans over. “How are you so calm right now?”
James looks at him, smiling as his chest warms. “I’m so fucking not. It’s- this is everything- this. I don’t even know. I’ve been working towards this since first year.”
Remus stares at him, eyes wide and watchful. There’s a certain quality in his face James doesn’t know how to place. “I’m so glad you’re happy. It’s- you deserve this.”
James just blinks back at him, a little confused. “I- thanks?”
Remus nods, still watching him. “It’s good.”
“Good?”
“Better.”
“Then what?”
Remus shrugs, a light smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then before.”
James decides to chalk his confusion up to the drink in his hand and stands up, hopping off the couch. “Do you want to go to the kitchens? We can get some food to bring back for everyone.”
Remus nods, looking around. James watches as his gaze sets on Sirius, dancing in the middle of the floor. James grins. “We’ll be quick,” He reassures. “Let's go.”
Remus follows him, stumbling slightly upon rising. They duck out of the portrait hole and start down the corridor, giggling when the portraits on the walls grumble at the disturbance. The castle echoes around them, warm and welcoming, a protective fortress.
---
The house-elves are asleep by the time Remus and James reach the kitchen. Remus watches as James rummages through the storage pile, grabbing food and handing it back.
Remus fills his pockets and together they find a satchel to put the rest in. James leads the way as they head back, humming lightly to himself. Remus follows him blindly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling and watch the rafters pass them by. He likes this feeling, this floating, pleasant happiness that comes with alcohol and the knowledge that Sirius’s waiting for him back in the Common Room, looking like a fallen angel on the dance floor.
When James stops walking, Remus runs into his back, stumbling a bit as he rights himself. He looks around, frowning. “Prongs? Why’d we stop?”
There’s no one around. Remus recognizes the corridor they're in, but it’s nowhere near the Gryffindor Common Room. James must have led them somewhere else while Remus wasn’t paying attention.
James stands facing the wall, staring at an unfamiliar large door with his hand resting on the handle. Remus feels his brows pinch, confused. He didn't know there was a door here. He’s never seen it before.
“James?”
James doesn’t move, his face so serious and set Remus takes a step back. “The Come and Go room,” James whispers.
“What?”
“I asked the house elves. That's what this room is called.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
“Maybe we should go back to the party.”
“No.”
“James-”
“Fuck.” James curses under his breath, ducking his head and pressing his forehead to the door.
Remus is severely out of his depth here. He has no idea what to do, what to say. He just watches as James squeezes his eyes shut. He wishes he knew what was going on in his head.
“No. Screw this.” Before Remus can stop him, James twists the knob and throws open the door, stepping in. Remus forces his feet to move, running in after him.
They both stop in the middle of the room, turning to scan their surroundings. There’s a large bed on one end, a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the walls, and faint stars glow on the ceiling above them. It’s lovely and warm, so painfully intimate that Remus feels like an intruder. He wonders what parts came from James and what parts came from Regulus.
It’s interesting, he thinks. How the Come and Go room kept the space exactly the same, even after James had forgotten what he was looking for. Some part of him must’ve known, though, for the magic to work. Some part of him must remember.
James turns in a circle in the middle of the carpet, chest heaving. “What the fuck.”
“It’s just some room,” Remus tries, though he can’t quite force the confidence he needs into his voice.
“It’s- It’s not. I know it’s not. I don’t know…” James turns to look at him, and everything inside Remus crumbles at the sight of tears in his eyes, glittering behind his glasses. “I keep coming back here. Whenever I’m not paying attention to where I'm going, whenever I zone out, I always end up here, reaching for that doorknob. I’ve never gone in, because… well, I don’t know.”
“James…”
“Like, isn’t it odd? That the room of requirement would give me something I’ve never wanted before?”
“James.”
“What is this place, Moony? Why do I always come here? Why does the castle think this is the room I need?” James paces, running a hand through his hair as he looks around wildly. “And why do I know it? I know those books, I know those stars, I know that bed. I know all of it. I just don’t know how .”
Remus just stares at him, wide-eyed and silent. There isn’t much he can say.
James lets out a bitter huff of laughter. “I’m just so fucking sick of this. I’m confused, all the time. My brain is filled with mud and I can’t think. I feel like I’m going insane. No one ever knows what I’m talking about, and people keep saying things that don’t make sense. Even the way you’re looking at me right now, like I’ve lost my mind. My head hurts, and I’m dizzy, and…”
Remus takes a step forward. How long has he been feeling like this?
Who’s he kidding. Remus knows exactly how long. “You’ve been drinking. Maybe-”
“No. It’s not that. I know that. This- this is different. It’s constant. It’s like- It’s like something has been torn from me and I can't figure out what. And I can't even remember the last time I didn’t feel like this. I can’t- I can’t remember.”
He’s drunk and rambling, but the words cut straight to Remus’s core anyway. Everything in him aches in the face of so much pain. He wants to tell him, to explain, to put him back together and slide the missing peice back into place.
“Why am I always here, Moony? Why am I always reaching for that doorknob?”
But.
But there’s a reason the piece is missing in the first place. There’s cause for its absence. So Remus swallows down the truth and pictures James’s bright, excited eyes as he says: “I have no idea.”
He feels, unequivocally, like a traitor.
James lets out a long breath, taking another look around. “There should be a table here,” he mumbles quietly, staring at the carpet. He sounds tired.
Remus says nothing.
Neither does James.
As they walk back up to the party, Remus can’t ignore the creeping dread rising up his throat. It's mixed with the fear that he may have been, well, wrong.
Maybe James isn’t as happy as he thought. Remus thinks about what Regulus said, that night on the astronomy tower, about James not telling them when something’s wrong. Because for James to break like that, for him to show that much hurt, everything had to have gotten too much to shove down. Even the deepest containers can overflow when filled past their limit.
James might’ve needed Regulus more than any of them had accounted for. Remus wants to kick himself. James snuck off to meet him in secret for over a year, hiding their relationship from his closest friends and going to great lengths to keep him safe. He’d stayed with him as Regulus got closer to Voldemort. He’d stayed with him when Regulus took the mark. He’d loved him so much Regulus had to obliviatehim, just to keep him safe. Of course it’d feel like something’s missing. Of course there’d be a gap left behind. Remus had been stupid to think James was just fine.
Which begs the question: if James is going this insane from his lack of memories, how the fuck is Regulus holding himself together while still burdened with all of his?
He may be a horrible person, but Remus… Remus can’t even imagine what he must be feeling right now. The weight of that realization forces him to come to a stop in the middle of the corridor, bracing himself on the wall as he sucks in a shuddering breath.
James turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Feeling sick?”
Yes. “No. I’m fine. I just…” He can’t meet James’s eyes. “Do you think Regulus wants to drop out?”
Immediately he has James’s full attention. He takes a few steps towards him, eyes wide like he’s been waiting for someone to bring this up. “I don’t know. Do you? I can’t imagine…” He trails off into a hum, walking up and leaning against the wall next to Remus. “He loves school. I mean, he has to, with parents like that. He and Sirius are different, but I know they agree on this.”
“But he has to agree, right? It’s his choice.”
“I…” James frowns, like this is something he’s thought over many a time. His mouth twists, an ugly grimace. “He’s got the mark. Does that mean- does that mean he’s loyal to Voldemort?”
“Yes.”
“But…”
“James. He has the mark.”
James looks over at him, brows pinched. He’s drunk, Remus reminds himself. “But.”
“But?”
“I don’t want him to be.”
It’s so plain, so pure, so simple that it tugs at his gut in a way Remus can’t ignore. “I don't think anyone does, except maybe a few of his friends and his parents.”
James snaps his fingers, pointing at him. “Exactly! Right. That’s what I’m trying to say. His parents. His family. Let's think about this, okay?” He slides down the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He motions for Remus to join him, right there in the middle of the corridor. “So. I’ve been trying to figure this out, right? Because Regulus really doesn’t seem like the type to take the mark.”
Remus ignores the excited glint in James’s eye. Maybe bringing this up was a mistake, especially considering their previous conversation. “He kind of does.”
James shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No. Not- if you could see-”
“See what?”
James turns his face away, muttering something Remus can’t quite make out.
“What was that?”
“If you could see the way he looks at me.”
And, wow, if that isn’t the saddest thing Remus has ever heard.
“I mean. Remus, I really don’t think he’s like the rest of them. I know I sound insane, and you can’t tell Sirius any of this, but what if… what if he was forced into it?”
Every word aches in the pit of Remus’s chest as he stares at his friend, hopeful and confused, trapped in a world of blank spaces and chasing the echoes of lost emotions. “Don’t you have to consent to get the mark?”
“Of course he’d want it if the other option was death,” James says easily.
But Remus has a job to do. And he can’t let James go down this path. Not again. “James. He’s cruel. Think about what he did to Sirius. Think about how mean he is, all the time. Do you remember that time he attacked that random fifth year?”
James frowns, focusing. “That… didn’t he have a reason for that?”
Remus shakes his head. “Not that I know of,” he says honestly.
“I feel like. I thought… I mean. Nevermind. Yeah, okay. That was fucked up. I can’t defend everything he does.”
“I’m shocked you’re defending any of it.”
“It’s just. Why haven’t we considered… I should talk to Sirius about this.”
“You should absolutely not.”
“I must.”
“You… musn’t.”
James hums. “I think he’s fascinating,” he says mildly. “Don’t you?”
“Merlin, James,” Remus manages weakly. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Just enough to spill my darkest secrets, I guess.”
“I’m getting that, yeah.”
“Well. I can’t very well tell Sirius I think his little brother is the most captivating thing I’ve ever seen. None of the girls… I mean, we don’t talk about things like that. Not after Lily. And Peter. Peter’s… drifting. So that leaves you.”
“Honored.”
“Mm. I suppose you should be.”
“You’ve never said any of this before,” Remus says eventually. It’s true. James refused to tell anyone about Regulus until Remus accidently found out. It’s odd he’d offer up his feelings so easily. Remus is playing with fire, he knows, but he can’t help it. “Why now, do you think?”
“I noticed him. The other day. Do you remember when we turned all the staircases to slides? The Slytherins fell down one of them and I landed on top of him. It was an… awakening experience, to say the least.” James stares at the wall across from him, wincing slightly.
“Are you ok?”
“My head hurts.”
“Too much to drink,” Remus comments quietly.
“Probably.”
Remus decides to test something out, perhaps cruelly. “I didn’t know you were into blokes. I mean, Fabian came as a surprise.”
Something terribly familiar flashes across James’s face. “I… am? I have been. I thought. I thought that came up. I guess I never really said it outright. I didn’t want to.”
Remus smiles. “I get it. It’s fine.”
James lets out a long breath, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. Remus stares at him, setting a hand on his back. “James…”
“I’ll be okay, Moony. Don’t worry about me.” But James won’t look at him.
“I wish you’d talk to me like this more.”
“I don’t. I’m sorry I put all this on you.”
“Plus your dad… Merlin, James.”
“I’m fine.”
“There’s no way that’s true.”
But it’s too late. When Remus looks over at him, the wall has slid back down behind James’s eyes. The brief window of honesty Remus was allowed is gone, locked away and shoved back from the deep pit from which it came. The moment was rare and fleeting, a side of James he’s not sure he’s ever truly seen before.
Maybe he should get him drunk more often.
“Let’s head back. Sirius will be missing his loverboy, and we’ve got snacks to deliver.”
Remus nods, pushing himself to his feet. His knees ache, sore from the sitting. The full moon must be soon.
When they open the door everyone cheers, and James smiles, and as Remus watches him, he realizes there’s no difference between this smile and the ones James has always worn.
He’s starting to wonder if it’s possible to find any cracks.
He’s starting to wonder if Regulus was the only one who knew how.
James finds Sirius, reaching out and spinning him, dancing to the beat of the music. Mary and Lily flash by next to them, a twirl of orange fabric and red hair, their laughs echoing through the shouts. A Ravenclaw turns up the music, chatting to her friends as the swell of sound fills the room. Sirius grins and ducks under James’s arm, jumping on his back and shouting something about quidditch and lions. The crowd cheers, James beams, and Remus thinks that maybe he does have his cracks. Maybe he’s covered in them. But, honestly, Remus’s skin is a patchwork by now. And some days Sirius can hardly move for fear of shattering. That doesn’t make this– this glowy, happy, warm moment– any less real.
Because right now, with the wind beating at the shutters and the fire crackling, everything feels distant. There’s a war, somewhere, but not here. Not in this room.
Remus smiles, refilling his glass, and joins his friends.
---
Regulus watches his brother spin amidst the crowd of dancers, baring all his teeth in his smile. His hair, too long, curls bouncing around his face and shoulders. Remus was staring at him earlier, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and Regulus watched him watch him. They caught hands amidst the chaos, just once, a single touch before they pulled apart.
Regulus saw all he needed to see in that moment.
Pandora hums next to him. “Well, if it couldn’t be Ravenclaw, I suppose the Gyfindors deserve it.”
“Not Slytherin?” Evan asks, affronted.
Pandora flashes a lazy grin. “You guys are always the bad guys. We need some hope before you crush us all.”
“Traitor. Come on, Reg, we deserved that win.”
Regulus can’t hide his smile as he takes a sip of his drink. “We lost to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff.”
“That was… that was a technical mishap. The ref was making bad calls.”
“You don’t even play Quidditch. What do you care?”
Evan frowns. “It's the principle of the thing. Everyone is denying the facts.”
Regulus shrugs. “James Potter made a bloody good goal. Care to deny that?”
Evan, apparently, can not.
Barty appears before them, arms crossed. “You guys are being boring. Come dance.”
Pandora shakes her head from where she’s tucked herself in next to Regulus. “We’re being warm. It’s cozy. Join us.”
“Absolutely not.”
The window seat is barely big enough for the three of them, but they manage to shift enough for Barty to reluctantly sink down next to Evan. “This party sucks.”
Regulus gives him a look. “This is the biggest party of the year. You can not mean that.”
“It’s so… bright.”
“I forgot you’re allergic to cheer.”
“You literally only wear green and various shades of black.”
“A perfectly respectable wardrobe.”
“Yeah, for an eighty-year old man.”
“Let’s not quarrel,” Pandora hums, putting her head back on Regulus’s shoulder. Usually he’d shift, push her off, at least in public. But the drink in his hand is warming his veins and there’s really no one watching, so he doesn’t mind.
Well. There’s one person watching. But Regulus has been pointedly ignoring his gaze all evening. He doesn’t trust himself right now, not like this. He’s far too drunk to return James’s heated stare and not do something stupid.
“Aren’t you going to miss this?” Barty says, gesturing out at the crowded room. “I doubt you could get away with a party of this magnitude in Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”
Regulus lifts a shoulder. “We have a basement.”
“Ok, well, the second you get the guts to throw a party, you send me an owl, alright?”
“I’ll miss it,” Regulus allows, staring out at the party. Dimly he wishes the Slytherin Common room was this warm. “Not the Gyrfindors, though. Everything else.”
“You’re lucky,” Barty says, stretching his arms over his head. When he relaxes he inconspicuously lets one fall over Evan’s shoulders. Regulus pretends not to notice. “If I could leave now and join the cause I would, no questions asked.”
Regulus takes a long drink, emptying his glass and setting it down. “Yeah, well. You saw how Sirius felt about the matter.”
“Fuck Sirius. Since when has his opinion counted for anything?”
“...True.”
“Besides, he does this a lot. Blowing up at you when you’ve done something he doesn’t approve of and ignoring you the rest of the time.”
Regulus watches his brother grab James and lead him over to the record player, flipping through different sleeves. “Maybe.”
“Remember what happened after you went on that mission with the Dark Lord?”
Regulus frowns. “Everything about that was… bad.”
Pandora yawns gently on his shoulder. She doesn’t drink, but Regulus is fairly certain she polished off an entire spliff herself earlier. “You never told us what happened.”
Regulus looks down, frustrated. He’s still reeling from his conversation in the astronomy tower, aching and, surprisingly, a little angry. “And I won’t.”
Honestly, Harold had no right judging him like that. Regulus did… something, sure, but he’d had his reasons. He didn’t do it because he wanted to. Couldn’t Harold see that? Couldn’t everyone?
James is still watching him.
Everything is suddenly too much.
Regulus stands up quickly, a little dizzy but no less determined for it. “I have to… do something. Right now.”
Pandora looks up at him, frowning. “Are you getting sick?”
“No.” Regulus shoves his hands in his pockets, fingers closing around the stone he hasn’t had the nerve to take out since that night. He pushes through the crowd, shoving people aside in his haste to get to the door. He leaves the party behind, taking the stairs two at a time as he makes his way up to the Astronomy Tower.
He throws open the door and yanks the stone out of his pocket, breathing heavily. He turns it in his fingers quickly, focusing on the motion blearily.
“Why am I here?”
Regulus startles, whipping around and stumbling slightly. “Harold.”
The man stares at him, gentle eyes hard and judgemental. “You’re drunk.”
Regulus crosses his arms. “Maybe.”
“You know my name.”
“I know your name.”
They stare at each other from across the room, both frozen to the spot. Harold looks away. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”
Regulus remembers himself and blinks. “You. I- you need to understand something.”
“What’s that.”
“I didn’t want to do that. What I did.”
Harold narrows his eyes. “As if that makes a difference. You still did it.”
Regulus throws up his hands. “No. You don’t get it. I didn’t want to. I was forced- the Dark Lord-”
“You’re trying to convince me you didn’t want to do it while still calling Voldemort the Dark Lord?”
“Voldemort took me straight from school. My brother- I had to go with him. He would’ve hurt me or him.”
“Oh, and I suppose there’s nothing worse than getting a little hurt.”
Regulus takes a furious step forward. “I’ve been hurt. You think I haven't been hurt?”
“I don’t think you’ve had to listen to the screams of your daughters getting murdered before you were tortured and then stabbed to death, no.”
“I got your daughters out. I saved them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
And that… that’s just cruel. Regulus glares at him and snaps his fingers. “Kreature.”
The house-elf, traditionally banned from apperating on Hogwarts grounds, appears with a pop. He looks around wearily, taking a few shuffling steps towards Regulus when he sees Harold’s apparition. “Master Regulus. Why is Kreature here?”
“Ask me something only your daughters would know.” Regulus demands, staring at the man in front of him.
Harold looks between him and Kreature, obviously at a loss. “What… what were their stuffed animal’s names?”
Regulus directs his attention to Kreature. “Can you please locate those girls I told you to bring to their mother a while ago? I need you to ask them about their old toy’s names.”
Kreature gives him a dirty look but disappears anyway. Regulus looks back up at Harold. “I saved them.”
Harold presses his lips together. “And then you came downstairs and took everything from me. Everything. My whole life. My literal life. Everything.”
“I didn’t kill you.”
“No, you just made me wish you had.”
“I had no choice!”
“How often do you tell yourself that?”
Regulus runs a hand through his hair, fury replacing the alcohol in his blood. “You don’t understand what it’s like, being his pawn. It’s- I didn’t have a choice.”
“So you… what? Want me to tell you it’s ok? That I don’t blame you?”
“I don’t know why everyone assumes everything’s my fault, all the time. I don’t get what’s so hard to understand: I don’t have free will. I don’t. He calls, I come. He tells me to torture an innocent man, I do. He wants my best friend’s teeth? I cut them out of her head with the knife he gave me. I do whatever he wants, because I have to. Because he’ll kill me. Or my brother. Or my boyfriend. Or whoever he needs to.”
Harold stares at him. “You… cut your best friend’s teeth out of her head?”
Regulus waves a hand. “She was a snake.”
“Your best friend is a snake?”
“Was. Was a snake.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“You’re distracting me. I need you to-” Regulus steps back, sinking onto the bench and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t get it. You don’t get my point. You aren’t hearing me.”
“What I’m hearing is a self-centered blood supremacist trying to convince me, the man he tortured and then murdered, that his actions should be excused because he was too much of a coward to do the right thing.”
Regulus sucks in a breath, anger flaring. “I. Thats. That’s not right. You sound like my brother.”
“Have you ever considered your brother may be on to something?”
Regulus looks out the window, watching the stars glitter in the spring night. They twinkle gently, soft and beckoning. Regulus wonders if he could join them, float up and out of his body until he melts into something so small and far away. He wonders if his problems would still look as big from the stars. He suspects they would. One, at least, would stand out. James’s love has always been larger than the night sky.
Harold says something behind him, but Regulus can’t hear him. He thinks about Icarus, trapped with his father in that labyrinth. He wonders if he was scared. He wonders if Icarus ever considered another way out before donning the wings. Sometimes, the walls of a labyrinth can feel so impenetrable that wax seems like the only way out. Even if it melts, at least it changes its shape.
“I’m going to kill the king.” Regulus says after a moment. He’s known it for a long time, ever since he had Saskia’s fangs in his arms on the floor of his bedroom. He’s never said it outloud before, though, and the words taste funny on his tongue.
“What?”
Regulus looks up, focusing on the ethereal man in front of him. “I’m going to solve the labyrinth and kill the king.”
“You mean Voldemort?”
Regulus holds his gaze and nods. “I know how. I’m the only one that knows how.”
Harold takes a few steps back, eyes wide. “I… what?”
“I hate him.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Regulus thinks of his mother and that long dark table surrounded by masked figures and wants to laugh. “No.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
Harold looks at him like he’s stupid. “Why are you going to kill him? You have his mark. You do his dirty work.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Regulus grits out. Why does no one listen to him? James would’ve understood. “I never wanted any of this. I’ve never had a choice.”
“You tortured me.”
“Did you not see the blood I was covered in? Did you not see that I had no choice?”
“I saw you look me in the eye before your Dark Lord drove a dagger into my heart.”
“I was paralyzed by a spell the Dark Lord put on us. That was when he transferred your magic to me.”
Harold narrows his eyes. “I still don’t understand that bit.”
“Neither do I.”
“Are you more powerful now?”
“Not particularly.”
“So…”
“So I don’t know. He refuses to talk to me about it.”
“And you’re not curious?”
“I…” Regulus drops his head. “I don’t have the capacity for that right now.”
“I think you need to stop pitying yourself for one second and see the larger picture here. If you want to kill him, do it. Don’t spend your time talking to me about it.”
Regulus looks up, angry again. “I need you to understand.”
“I don’t. I don’t understand. I don’t think you have the will to resist him. Being a traitor takes guts, something I don’t think you have.”
“I saved your girls. “
“I don’t think you did. That would be an actually decent thing to do.”
“I don’t need you to believe me.”
“You obviously do. And here you are: I don’t. I think you’re a coward who’s never gone against the grain once in his life, and isn’t about to start.”
Regulus shoots up from the bench, chest heaving. Kreature takes that moment to appear between them with a pop, eyes only for Regulus. “The girls say Teddy and Bean, sir.”
That’s all it takes. Regulus reacts before he can think, throwing the stone in his hand at Harold’s rippling form. In the split second before he vanishes, Harold’s eyes go wide at Kreature’s words. His gaze, in an eerie rendition of the night he died, locks itself on Regulus’s as he disappears. The stone bounces off the floor across from him.
Regulus doesn’t dare breathe.
“Master?”
“Thank you Kreature. You’re dismissed.”
The house elf disappears in the next second. Regulus moves back to the bench, sitting down heavily. He’s dizzy.
“Reg?”
Regulus looks up, stiffening when Evan appears in the doorway. “Evan.” Does he not get even a second to breathe?
“Were you talking to someone?”
“No.”
“Oh. I just came up to check on you and thought I heard…”
“How’d you know I was here?”
Evan smiles lightly. “Where else would you be? You always-”
“Not always.”
Evan’s smile falters. “No. Not always. You used to go somewhere else, didn’t you? Sometimes we’d go looking for you and you wouldn’t be here.”
Regulus leans his head back on the wall. “I like the fresh air.”
“Good view of the stars, too.”
“The stars are less preferable.”
Evan hums. “Why are you up here?”
“Party was too crowded.”
“Planning on coming back down?”
Regulus closes his eyes. “Yeah.”
“Good choice. Barty’s about four drinks in. You don’t wanna miss what happens at five.”
“How’s he doing? With his father and everything?”
Evan’s eyes dim a little. He looks away. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Have you seen his arms?”
“No.”
Evan nods, letting out a dry little chuckle. “They’re covered in scratches. It’s nothing- I mean. It’s not like that . I got him to talk to me, once. He said he did it to remind himself he was in control. It’s his way of staying sane.”
A while ago Regulus figured out that’s why Barty is the way he is. The insanity, the wild actions and rash decisions, all come from a deep seated need to be individual. To keep his autonomy. Still, his arms… “I didn’t know.”
“Nor did I. I don’t think he cares, or sees an issue with it.” Evan pauses. “Could you talk to him, maybe?”
Regulus stares. “Why me?”
Evan looks guilty, shifting in his seat. “I just. Your… I mean. Your arm. I don’t know.”
Oh.
Regulus’s shoulder throbs at the reminder. “You know?”
“Dorcas told me.”
The traitor.
“And everyone else?”
Evan shakes his head. “Just me.”
Regulus sighs. He wants more alcohol. “They aren't the same.”
“Well…”
“One: different circumstances. And two: I didn’t do that to myself.”
Evan lets out a huff of air. They go quiet for a long moment. “He’s literally tearing himself apart.” Evan whispers finally. “He expects me to just watch. To not care.”
“I think he likes that you care.”
“I don’t think he does. He sees it as a weakness. He’s worried it will get us in trouble.”
“Yes, well.” Regulus mumbles, looking out at the stars. “He may have a point.” It’s the first time Evan has come close to talking about his and Barty’s relationship- if that’s what you can call it. As a general rule they don’t bring it up.
“We aren’t- I mean. What we’re doing. It doesn’t matter. It’s just- It’s just a fun little thing on the side. It won’t affect anything.”
“Mhm.”
“It won’t.”
“I believe you.”
“You sound like you don’t. He doesn't- I mean." Evan snorts, pressing his hands to his eyes. "Even if I wanted... more, he doesn't. That's not- that's not in the cards for either of us."
"Mm."
"He... did you know he even hates pet names? Like, any. They're too... too real, I guess."
"I can hardly imagine Barty calling anyone sweetheart," Regulus says dryly.
Evan chuckles. "Yeah. I might've said baby once by accident while we were... otherwise occupied. A mistake, to say the least. He's even more against calling someone else anything like that. I think it would genuinely kill him."
"He's not the... softest soul," Regulus says eventually.
"No."
They go quiet for a minute.
“Will you follow him?” Regulus asks.
Evan blinks in surprise, eyes going wide. “What?”
“Will you follow him. I mean. If he gets the Mark, will you?”
Evan’s gaze turns piercing. “That’s not the question you want to ask.”
“No.”
“Go on.”
“Do you want to follow him? Do you want the mark?”
Evan stares at him. Regulus stares right on back.
“You have it.” Evan says.
“I do.”
“And?”
Regulus swallows. Looks away. “It burns.”
Evan nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I thought it might.”
They sit with that for a minute.
Evan has never been entirely enthusiastic about the cause. Regulus is fairly certain he doesn’t much care about blood supremacy or anything like that. This pretty much confirms it. So, if he doesn’t want the mark and doesn’t particularly support Voldemort, then why…
“I’ll follow him.” Evan says into the night air.
They both know he isn’t talking about the Dark Lord.
“Okay.” Regulus says, and that’s that.
They go back to the party a minute later.
---
Regulus dreams of a snake, slithering across the floor.
He dreams of wide brown eyes, glistening with fear beneath him.
He dreams of blood on his fangs.
He wakes to the taste of copper on his tongue and a split lip.
---
James, for once, finds himself glad Dumbledore decides to interrupt dinner.
“The school, for your safety, has decided to institute another lockdown drill after second period tomorrow. The doors will be closed for around thirty minutes. Please do not attempt to open them.”
Groans and complaints echo out across the hall. Across from him, Peter shifts nervously. “So soon?” he hisses.
“I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. This is a necessary measure installed for your safety. Please remember that.”
James searches the sea of bodies till he finds the back of Regulus’s head, and he grins.
---
Second period rolls around fairly quickly. James, having secured the map from Moony’s bedside table, keeps a close eye on it. He’s lucky: Regulus is traveling alone, walking to his next class on the third floor. James starts moving.
When he eventually finds him, it’s only because he nearly runs headlong into him. They both stumble back and James instinctually reaches out to steady Regulus, grabbing his arm. The motion sends a pang of pain through his head, one he pointedly ignores.
“Hey. There you are. I was looking for you.”
Regulus’s eyes go wide, flicking up to meet his. They’re so dark, so deep. James takes a step forward.
“Potter.” Regulus says disjointedly. “What do you want? I need to get to class.”
“I need to talk to you. I have an idea.”
“I told you, this is pointless-”
“No. Not that. This is new.”
They both seem to realize James is still holding his arm. Regulus steps back. James doesn’t move. “Not now. The lockdown-”
“Exactly.” James grins. “Pretty please, Reg?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Lovely. Let’s go.”
“Potter-”
“Come on.” James grabs his wrist and starts walking, going for the closest door he can find. Regulus resists, but James has always been stronger. He opens the door and - gently - pulls Regulus inside.
Regulus stumbles forward and wheels around, already fuming. James grins, shutting the door behind them. The classroom, thankfully, is empty.
“Potter, move aside right now.” Even his anger looks good on him.
James winces. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because then you’ll be in the hallway during lockdown, and that just wouldn’t do. Seems we’ve got...” James casts a tempus charm in the air between them. “Fifty seconds.”
Regulus fixes him with his deadliest glare. “Move.”
“...No.”
Regulus pushes forward anyway, just like James knew he would. James sidesteps, throwing out his arms to block Regulus from the door. Regulus, apparently not wanting to get that close to James but unwilling to give up, huffs angrily and tries to duck around him.
James catches him with an arm around his middle and gently pushes him back into the room. “Reg, love, just hear me out.”
Regulus goes still instantly, staring at him. “Don’t call me that.”
James blinks. He didn’t have an issue with his name before. “Uh… ok? Regulus, just hear me out. Better?”
Regulus, for some indiscernible reason, pinks and looks away. “No.” He grits out.
The door takes that moment to click as a voice booms through the halls. “ATTENTION STUDENTS. COMMENCING LOCK DOWN. THIS IS A DRILL. PLEASE FIND THE CLOSEST CLASSROOM AND WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE DISMISSED.”
James, satisfied, steps aside and watches as Regulus grabs the handle, a few seconds too late. The door doesn’t budge.
“Sorry,” James offers as Regulus lets his head fall against the wood with a thump. “I needed to talk to you and I knew you’d refuse unless I gave you no choice.”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” James takes a few steps back and sinks into a chair at a desk, propping his chin in a hand and watching Regulus.
“So?”
“So?”
“Why am I here, Potter?” Regulus turns to look at him slowly, eyes tired.
“I needed to talk to you.”
“As you mentioned.”
“Right.”
“I can’t help your dad,” Regulus says cooly.
James’s heart twinges. He knows that. No one can, at this point. He doesn’t want to think about it. “I know. This isn’t about that.”
“Then what?”
James takes a steadying breath. “I want you to come home with me after this summer.”
Regulus just stares at him. Then he laughs. Sliding to the floor against the door Regulus grins breathlessly, eyeing James incredulously.
James frowns. Was it such an insane question?
“You’re serious,” Regulus says, still smiling.
James nods cautiously. “...of course I am.”
“You never change, do you?”
James doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Does my brother know what you just asked me?”
James pauses. “...Not yet. But. He would approve, if he did.”
“Are you sure about that?”
No. “Yes.”
“And you’ve talked to him about it?”
“...Yes.”
“I thought you said you were a good liar.”
James gives up. “I also told you I can’t lie to you, so.”
The corners of Regulus’s mouth twitch and he nods in concession. Then… freezes. They both stop and stare at each other. James pauses. He never told Regulus he was a good liar, did he? And he certainly never said any of that other stuff.
His head hurts.
What…
What-
“What were we talking about?” James asks, confused.
Regulus blinks. “You had some ridiculous proposition for me.”
“Right. Yes. Yeah, you should come home with me. We have another bedroom upstairs, or, you know, mine’s always open.” James has to hold back a wink.
Regulus narrows his eyes. “That was… bad.”
“Maybe not some of my finer work.” James admits. “Still, though, I don’t hear you shutting me down. What if you just… get off the train with us?”
Regulus softens, and James feels something akin to hope start to flutter in his chest. “I can’t do that. You have to know that. Sirius-”
“Sirius will get over it.”
“Your parents-”
“You honestly think they haven’t suggested it before?”
“My parents, then.”
James stands up. “We can handle them.”
Regulus looks at him with sad eyes. “No you can’t. Not really.”
“You underestimate me.”
“They have the power of the Dark Lord and his army.”
James grimaces. “Good thing I’m planning on killing him, then.”
“James.”
“Potter’s over, then? I’m glad.”
“Why do you want me to go?”
James pauses. He hadn’t been expecting that one. Regulus watches him from near the door. James swallows. “Your hair.”
“My hair?”
“You cut it.”
Regulus reaches up subconsciously, fiddling with a curl. “I told you I would. It was getting too long.”
“For who?”
Regulus narrows his eyes. “My mother doesn’t like when it curls around my ears like that because I have to tie it back.”
James nods, taking a step forward. He’s getting closer, and Regulus isn’t going anywhere. “Exactly. But I liked it. I told you, didn’t I? It looks good back.”
There’s no mistaking the blush high on Regulus’s cheeks.
“And you liked it too. I could tell.” James tips his head, searching him. “Though, maybe you just liked that I liked it.”
Regulus lets out a small sound, shifting on his feet. “I- it got in the way.”
“Yeah, but not if you put it up like that.”
“My mother-”
“Precisely.” James takes another few steps, splaying his hands. “Reg, come home with me. Come home with me and grow your hair long and tie it up whenever you like.”
“James,” Regulus says, eyes wide.
“Please.” James moves even closer, reaching up to tuck a curl behind Regulus’s ear. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He doesn’t dare question why Regulus is letting him get this close. “Please.”
Regulus’s lips part, eyes fixing on James’s. For a moment James can’t think of anything except the gentle warm gust of breath on his face and the flutter of Regulus’s eyelashes on his cheeks. He leans in. Regulus’s hands come up slowly, resting on James’s chest. Surely he must be able to hear how fast James’s heart is beating.
For a moment, everything goes still.
And then Regulus shoves. Hard.
James stumbles back, catching his balance on a desk. He looks up, affronted and betrayed, already scowling. “That was so unnecessary.”
Regulus shrugs, but James doesn’t miss the shake in his hands or the pink in his cheeks. “I needed you to move.”
“You could’ve asked.”
“Somehow I doubt that would’ve worked.”
“That’s it. I’m retracting my offer.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “Oh, you mean the super-realistic-not-ridiculous-at-all proposal?”
“Now I’m changing my mind back. You have to come with me.”
“Oh, I have to , do I?”
James frowns. “Well. Technically It’s your choice, but…”
“Exactly. I’m saying no.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t heard all the facts.”
“What else?”
James pauses, mind blank. “...I want you to come.”
Regulus stares at him. “Yeah, I got that bit,” he says eventually.
James needs something else. He needs something more. “Your arm.”
Regulus’s face goes white as he backs up. “What?”
“Your arm.” James repeats. “You have the mark, don’t you.”
Regulus opens his mouth, closes it. Reaches over to grip his forearm. James nods. “Sirius told me.”
Regulus still says nothing, eyes wide.
“But. But I haven’t asked you about it.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I would- it just- I feel like I need to. It feels weird that I haven’t. So, I guess I’m asking.” He catches Regulus’s gaze, holds it. “Do you want it?”
“What?” Regulus’s voice comes out cracked and dry.
“Do you want the mark? Really, truly, are you on his side?”
“It was my choice.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I had to choose-”
“Regulus.”
“I- you- leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” Regulus turns away, moving back to the door and trying the handle.
“It’s not gonna open.”
“It might.”
“Just- please, love, just answer the question. Are you on his side?”
Regulus turns around, letting out a defeated sigh and meeting his eyes slowly. James sees the answer etched in every corner of his face. He grins.
Then the door opens, and James’s life turns upside down.
“Mr. Potter?” McGonagall says, standing in the doorway. James looks up, smile slipping off his face.
No.
Don’t.
For a moment, for a fleeting, wonderful moment, she doesn’t speak. That moment holds everything and more, a beautiful and pure snippet of time. It’s like it's all suspended, floating in the air around them. This happiness at Regulus’s admission, the peace of the castle, the hope of it all, simply hanging around their heads.
And then she does speak.
“Mr. Potter,” She repeats, eyes watery, and James knows. “I need you to come with me.”
No.
Don’t.
“It’s your father.”
Everything comes crashing down around them, emotions dropping and shattering on the floor at their feet. The moment is over.
And James-
James can’t breathe.
He can’t move even though McGonagal is still speaking, backing up and beckoning in a way that tells James it’s imperative he follows quickly. He doesn’t, though, because his feet are still stuck to the floor and there’s no air in his lungs. How’s he supposed to move with no air?
There’s a hand on his back, another on his arm. Someone is saying something. Someone he cares about. He should really pay attention.
“James. James, breathe. You have to go.”
He can’t. He doesn’t.
“James, mon soleil, I’m so sorry. You have to move. Now.”
Mon soleil. That sounds nice. He turns to look at the person next to him, frightened and panting, still attempting to get anything into his lungs. Regulus stares back at him, eyes wide and deep and so so sad. “Go,” he whispers, rubbing James’s arm before pulling back. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
So James takes a shuddering breath and moves , following Mcgonagall out of the room and down the hall to her office, heart pounding and head fuzzy. Sirius is there, waiting at the fire, looking so scared that James has to resist the urge to hug him right then and there. They grab the powder from the bin McGonagal holds out to them and step in the fire at the same time, disappearing in a flash of green.
Godric's hollow is quiet.
So quiet.
James and Sirius tumble on to the carpet and move, scrambling up and running towards Monty’s bedroom. Effie’s waiting, and James distantly notices there are tears on her cheeks, doubled now that Sirius and James are there. She pulls them through the door and they skid to a stop, staring at the bed.
Monty’s eyes drift to the doorway, dimly fixing on James’s. Every breath is a wheeze. There’s a doctor in the corner. “My boys,” he whispers, and each word sounds like it’s tearing through his throat, leaving nothing but decay in its wake.
James steps forward, already crying, already a mess. Already gone. “Dad.”