Chapter 3
Regulus moved through the halls, feeling numb. The weight of everything—his family, his choices, and the broken pieces of his life—felt too heavy to bear. He was drowning and didn’t know how to swim back to the surface. He could still hear Sirius’s voice in his head, echoing with the same sharp bitterness that had always marred their relationship. "Goodbye, Reg."
He clenched his jaw, pushing the memory aside. What was he supposed to do now? How was he expected to keep pretending he was fine when all he felt was hollow?
He nearly walked past the Slytherin common room, only barely registering the door swinging open. He entered automatically, the familiar chill of the room doing nothing to ease the tightness in his chest. The faces of his housemates blurred around him; they weren’t really looking at him, just continuing with their plans, lives, and expectations.
Regulus felt like he no longer belonged here—maybe he never did—but he didn’t know where else to turn. This was all he had left: his house, his name, and the empty shell of what he used to think was his life.
“Regulus,” Evan’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s got you looking like you just fell into the lake?
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t—not when it was all too much, not when his mind kept replaying the conversation with Sirius. The accusation: “You’re just like them.” Was it true? Was he really just another pawn in the game his family had set for him? Was there anything left of the boy he used to be?
Evan didn’t care about him. None of them did. He could see it in their eyes; they were already turning away, already losing interest. It wasn’t about him. It never was. They were never really his friends.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stay here with them, couldn’t breathe the same air they did. Without a word, he turned and walked out, his feet carrying him in the direction of the Astronomy Tower before he had even realized it.
He reached the top without hesitation. The cold hit him hard, but he didn’t flinch. He let the silence settle around him. The darkness felt familiar, comforting in its emptiness. Here, there was no one to look at him, no one to expect anything from him.
He wasn’t sure what he was searching for. Perhaps some sort of clarity, or something to make him feel like he could breathe again. But all he felt was the same heavy weight pressing down on his chest.
"You’re just like them." The words echoed in his mind, louder now, as if Sirius were right there with him, mocking him. Was it true? Had he always been this way? Was he so wrapped up in the expectations of his family that he couldn’t even see what was really happening?
Regulus shook his head, feeling the anger flare up again. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t been able to fight back sooner, to break free from the life they had imposed on him. Sirius had left. He was the one who chose to run. He was the one who decided that family didn’t matter.
But Regulus? He was stuck, even after he got out. No one could ever understand that. Not even Sirius.
“Damn it,” Regulus muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. “Why am I still here?”
The wind cut through him, sharp and biting, but it couldn’t clear the fog in his mind. He felt as if he were suffocating. It wasn’t just the weight of his family’s expectations; it was everything. Everything that had built up over the years—the lies, the silence, the broken promises.
“Goodbye, Reg.”
The words clung to him like a curse. He had been abandoned. By Sirius. By James. By everyone. Now, he stood alone in the darkness, with nothing but his own reflection in the stars above.
Regulus took a deep breath, but it did little to help. His chest felt as though it might crack open. Perhaps the worst part was that he had no one to blame but himself. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into the emptiness. Eventually, he turned and walked back to the castle, the weight on his chest remaining as heavy as ever.
He wasn’t a Gryffindor. He couldn’t make heroic decisions and then walk away unscathed. There was no one to hear him, no one to pull him back from the edge—only himself. And that, perhaps, was the cruelest part of all.
He was walking aimlessly through the halls, battling the tightness in his chest and the bitter taste of anger and regret that lingered. He barely noticed when he left the castle and reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
He only became aware of how far he had wandered when he heard the distant sound of approaching footsteps—too light to belong to anyone in authority, yet too familiar to be just anyone else.
“Regulus,” came Dorcas’s voice, low but filled with concern. “Where in Merlin's name have you been, it’s past curfew?”
He didn’t turn around or acknowledge her right away. It felt as if the more he walked, pretending he was alone, the less he would have to face any of it. He wouldn’t have to confront her or the others. He wouldn’t have to address the hollow feeling in his chest that had been growing for months.
"Reg?" Dorcas’s voice was closer now, and when he heard the soft crunch of her boots on the forest floor, he finally stopped. Turning slowly, Regulus met her gaze, his eyes dark with frustration. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. Not when everything felt so... broken.
Dorcas stepped up to him, and although she didn’t say anything at first, her presence alone was enough. Her warmth made him feel, just maybe, that he wasn’t completely alone. Still, a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
“Why is everyone so damn concerned about me?” Regulus muttered, his eyes dropping to the ground to avoid the pity he sensed in her gaze. “It’s not like I’m worth it.”
“Don’t do that,” Dorcas replied softly. “You don’t get to push us away every time things get hard, Regulus. We’re your friends. We’re here because we want to be, not because we’re trying to fix you. Just let us in for once.”
Before he could respond, another voice cut through the air—sharp and familiar.
“Dorcas is right,” Barty said, stepping up beside her with a defiant stance. His piercing eyes met Regulus’s, a blend of understanding and frustration. “You think you’re the only one struggling? We all have our own shit. But you don’t get to shut everyone out.”
Regulus didn’t answer right away. His teeth ground together in irritation. "I don’t need anyone," he muttered, his tone cold and distant.
“Bullshit,” Evan’s voice came in, steady but low. His usual composure was cracked, something softer slipping through. “You’re always pushing people away, Reg. You think you’re better off alone, but you’re not. None of us are.”
Regulus clenched his fists, frustration, and embarrassment warring inside him. He was supposed to be strong, wasn’t he? He shouldn’t need them. But deep down, he did, didn’t he? He felt like he was drowning—wondering if even they could save him.
Pandora was the last to speak. She never chose her words lightly, but when she did, they always hit straight to the heart. She’d been watching him quietly, her brow furrowed as she stood beside the others, close enough to feel the weight of his silence. Her voice was soft but carried a quiet force that made Regulus’s chest tighten.
“You’re not the only one stuck, Reg,” Pandora said, her words cutting through the night air. “You’ve never been the only one. We’re here because we care about you—even when you push us away. Even when you think you’re beyond help.” Her gaze softened, but her tone was unyielding. “You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry all this by yourself.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Regulus stood frozen, unable to look at any of them. He could feel their eyes on him—heavy with concern, but also with something more. Their friendship. He wanted to pull away, to bury it all behind walls that had taken years to build. But something inside him, something raw and tired, didn’t want to hide anymore.
"Why do you all even bother with me?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "I’m a mess. I’ve been nothing but a disappointment."
Dorcas stepped closer, her hand finding his shoulder. “We don’t need you to be perfect, Reg. We don’t care about that. You’re more than your last name. You’re like a brother to us. Honestly, at this point, we’re family. You’re worth so much more than you realize.”
Barty, who had been standing behind them, spoke again, his voice softer than usual. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. Not with us. Not ever again."
Evan added, “We know you’re hurting. It’s okay to feel that way. You don’t have to have all the answers. But you can’t shut us out—not permanently.”
Pandora stood by him, solid and unmovable. “You don’t have to fix everything all at once,” she said gently. “We’ll help you. Together.”
Regulus swallowed his throat tight. For the first time in ages, his chest ached, and the mask he had worn for so long—the one that kept his pain at bay—was starting to crack.
“Why can’t I just be normal?” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Why can’t I just move on, like you all have?”
“We’re not normal, Reg,” Dorcas said quietly, but with an undeniable strength. “We’re all just trying to get through. Sometimes, we don’t know how to. But we’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to have everything sorted out now.”
Regulus didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But in the silence that followed, he felt their presence—real, tangible, undeniable. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he was falling apart. Not entirely, at least.
He exhaled slowly, finally meeting Dorcas’s gaze, then Barty’s, Evan’s, and Pandora’s. For the first time, he didn’t feel the urge to look away.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice thick but sincere.
Pandora smiled faintly, squeezing his shoulder. "Anytime, Reg."
At that moment, as the darkness of the Forbidden Forest seemed to wrap around them, Regulus no longer felt so alone.
The walk back to the Slytherin dungeons was steeped in heavy silence—a silence that lingered, thick in the air, after a shared burden had been lifted, but not entirely removed. Regulus couldn’t help but replay the events of the night in his mind—Sirius’s face and the hollow feeling that still clung to him like a second skin. Yet, Dorcas’s presence beside him was grounding; her quiet energy served as an anchor.
When they reached the Slytherin common room, the dim light from the fire flickered through the door, casting soft shadows across the stone walls. The usual chill of the dungeons seemed absent tonight. Inside, the room was warm, filled with the comfortable disarray of their shared space. Books and clothes were strewn across the floor, and half-empty mugs cluttered the tables.
Barty, ever the one to fill the silence with movement, flopped onto one of the armchairs, propping his feet up on the edge of the table. Evan and Pandora, standing just behind, made their way to the couches, their quiet chatter creating a soft hum.
Regulus lingered by the door for a moment, unsure whether to sink into the warmth of the room or maintain some distance from the others. But Pandora, as always, sensed his hesitation. Without a word, she made space for him on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. Regulus paused for a split second before sitting down. His shoulders, once tense with the weight of everything unresolved, relaxed slightly when she shifted just enough to make him feel welcome without crowding him.
The familiar comfort of the room, filled with the soft hum of their group, slowly settled over him. This was home in a way he didn’t often admit to himself.
“You can’t keep holding everything in, you know,” Pandora said gently after a few moments. She wasn’t demanding; it was just a gentle nudge, the kind he appreciated. It was the kind he never received from anyone else.
Regulus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, his head resting against the cushions. “I’m not even sure what I’m holding anymore,” he muttered wearily.
She gave him a knowing look but didn’t press him further. Instead, she simply rested her head on his shoulder—an easy, natural gesture she had done a hundred times before. Every time, it felt just as simple as it did that day. Her presence was light, like a hand placed gently on his chest, reminding him that it was okay to breathe.
Barty raised an eyebrow from his spot across the room and glanced over at Regulus and Pandora. “It’s good to see you not brooding alone,” he remarked, his voice only half-mocking. “You need more moments like this.”
Regulus let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe,” he said, the word hanging in the air, uncertain. He wasn’t ready to open up fully yet, not after everything, but the words from Barty and Pandora made him feel like he could—someday. Just not tonight.
Dorcas, tucked under a blanket by the fire, glanced over at them. “You know,” she began, her voice quiet, as if she were letting the words settle before they left her mouth. “Sometimes I think we forget what it’s like to just be. To just... exist without thinking about all the crap we’ve been dealt.”
Evan, lazily leaning against the back of the couch, added with a half-smile, “That’s why we’ve got each other, isn’t it? To remind us that we don’t have to carry all the weight alone.”
The simple words were enough to ease the ache in Regulus’s chest, just a little. This wasn’t just a group of people he shared classes or a living space with—they were his family. A family he hadn’t expected to find, but that had somehow woven itself into his life without him even realizing it.
“We’re not going anywhere, Reg,” Evan added, his voice steady, as if he could sense the unspoken words hanging in the air.
Regulus let out a slow breath, realizing just how true that was. The knot in his chest, the tightness he had carried with him for so long, seemed to loosen just a little. Maybe it was the warmth of the room or the way Pandora’s fingers idly traced the fabric of his sleeve, or how Barty, despite his usual bravado, stayed by his side when things got heavy. Perhaps it was the quiet understanding that passed between them all, the knowledge that they had seen each other at their worst and still chose to be together.
“I’m… I’m trying,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. He wasn’t sure if he was trying for himself, for James, or all of them. But at least, in this room, surrounded by these people, he felt he had the space to try.
Barty leaned forward and snatched a pillow from the armchair, tossing it into the middle of the couch. "Right, well, if we’re all going to sit here and pretend we’ve got it figured out," he said with a half-smile, "we might as well be comfortable while we do it."
Pandora laughed quietly and nudged Regulus. "Is that what this is about, then? Just getting comfortable with the mess?"
“Why not?” Dorcas chimed, her tone light. “No one expects us to be perfect. Not even us.”
Regulus met her gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt the weight on his shoulders lift. Maybe he couldn’t fix everything. Maybe not everything was meant to be fixed. But right here, right now, with his friends—his family—he didn’t need to pretend to be anything else. He was just Regulus, and somehow that was enough.
Without thinking, he stretched out on the couch, leaning his head back against the armrest. Pandora shifted slightly, making room for him as he settled in. The room felt quieter now, the hum of soft conversation mixing with the crackling fire.
Barty dropped onto the other side of the couch with a dramatic sigh, his arm slung across the backrest as if he owned the space. Evan settled down beside him, his eyes half-lidded, clearly starting to drift off, while Dorcas remained by the fire, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket.
There was no rush. No urgency. Just the steady, familiar feeling of being in this space together and finding a kind of comfort.
Regulus closed his eyes for a moment, the soft sounds of breathing and murmurs around him creating a lull. Pandora’s head rested gently on his shoulder, and though he still felt the lingering ache from earlier, it wasn’t as sharp. It didn’t feel like he was carrying it alone anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have to be strong, didn’t have to pretend. He could just be.
And that was enough. For tonight, at least.
“Alright,” Barty muttered, yawning. “Don’t get all sappy on me, Dorcas. I’ll start feeling things.”
Evan chuckled from beside him, his voice slurring with exhaustion. “No one’s trying to make you feel things, Barty. Just shut up and get some sleep.”
Regulus smiled faintly, feeling the weight of sleep creeping in, the warmth of the room pulling him toward slumber. The noise around him softened the familiar hum of the fire, the soft laughter, the quiet comfort of being with people who understood him without words.
It was the first time in a while that Regulus felt like he could just rest.
And so, he did.
___
James Potter hated how it had all ended.
He hated that he couldn’t be the one to make the call, couldn’t have the final say. He loathed that everything had concluded in such a mess, that the very idea of them—of him and Regulus—had twisted into a knot of confusion, bitterness, and regret. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
No, really, he hadn't expected to become so attached. He hadn’t envisioned seeing Regulus as anything other than his best friend’s little brother. But it crept up on him in a way he didn’t know how to handle; Regulus had become the center of his world.
James thought back to how it had all started, how easy it had felt to be around Regulus. The laughter, the late-night talks in the common room, the secret moments when no one was watching—they could just be themselves. It felt real. Something that could have worked. But somewhere along the way, it had transformed into something else—something that felt like a mistake.
The kiss. That damn kiss.
James could still feel its ghost, still taste it on the back of his tongue. He had kissed Regulus, and that terrified him. What was he supposed to do with that? What could he do with that mistake that he couldn’t bring himself to regret?
He had always been sure of himself. He liked girls. He liked Lily. He liked the idea of a wife he was madly in love with and kids that were the center of both of their worlds. Living in a house with a white picket fence. He liked the notion of normal, uncomplicated things. But Regulus? Regulus was a question mark. Regulus was something his world had never prepared him for, something that didn’t fit into the neat, tidy box James had created for himself.
He recalled how Regulus's lips had felt against his—soft, unexpected, and like something he couldn’t control. For a moment, a foolish, foolish moment, James had felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth it.
But then it had all come crashing down.
Regulus had pulled away. He had walked away, and that was it. Just like that. Everything James had started to feel for him, everything he had allowed himself to believe was real, evaporated into thin air. There was no “let’s talk about this” or “maybe we can figure this out together.” Regulus had simply left.
The worst part was that James knew it was his fault, he could admit that. He couldn’t blame Regulus for walking away. It was James who had been too scared and too unsure of himself to face the truth. He had acted as if he didn’t care about Regulus, he was so caught up in his problems he pretended it didn’t mean anything. But it did.
And then came Dorcas.
The thought of her made James’s stomach twist. He had seen them together—Dorcas and Regulus—laughing, talking, their shoulders brushing in that way that only people who share something real do. He had tried to push it down, tried to convince himself that it was fine, that it didn’t bother him, but it did. It cut deep.
Regulus was moving on. He was out there with someone else—someone who didn’t carry the same burdens James did. Someone who didn’t have the same fears or insecurities. Someone who could show Regulus off to the world without hesitation, someone who wasn’t scared of being found out because, for them, there was nothing to hide. Someone who, perhaps, was better suited for him than James had ever been.
Because James was a mess. Confused. He didn’t even know what he wanted, or who he was. One moment, he was telling himself he didn’t care about Regulus—that it was all just a phase, something he could forget if he tried hard enough. But the next, the thought of Regulus being with someone else, seeing him smile at Dorcas the way he once smiled at James, made something inside him crack.
What did that mean? What was he supposed to do with these feelings? He couldn’t just walk up to Regulus and admit everything—admit how terrified he was. Admitting that seeing Regulus with Dorcas felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath him was too much to bear.
The worst part? He hated himself for it. For feeling jealous. For feeling hurt. It didn’t make sense. He was a Gryffindor. He was supposed to be brave. He was supposed to face whatever came his way with his head held high. But this? This was different. He didn’t know how to face this. He couldn’t face this.
There was another truth James hadn’t yet confronted, even within himself: he was drawn to Regulus. Not just in a fleeting, surface-level way, but in a deeper, all-consuming manner. He wanted him. He liked him—more than he was ready to admit. He looked forward to Regulus’s biting insults, his razor-sharp tongue, and that smile James had to earn.
He even liked the way Regulus always carried a faint scent of mint, only noticeable when he was pressed against Regulus’s chest. But acknowledging it—let alone acting on it—felt like stepping into a minefield.
James Potter wasn’t gay. He was the heir to the House of Potter. He was a Gryffindor. A Marauder. He was normal. He was supposed to be normal. So where had he gone wrong? Where had he messed up to end up like this?
He wasn’t sure what that even meant. Was it just a fleeting attraction? Something that would pass if he buried it deep enough? Or was it something more—something he would have to face, whether he liked it or not?
There was a part of him that wanted to be with Regulus, that wanted to hold onto whatever remnants of their mess still lingered between them. But there was another part of him that told him he couldn’t—shouldn’t—want that. He couldn’t risk it. His reputation. His friendships. His future. He couldn’t risk everything for something so uncomfortable.
James had always been sure of who he was. But now? Now he was a tangle of confusion, caught between the person he was supposed to be and the person he was becoming.
He couldn’t be the person Regulus needed. He couldn’t be that vulnerable, that open. Because the truth was, James wasn’t sure he was ready to confront what was inside him. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the possibility that, maybe, just maybe, he could feel something real for someone who was never supposed to be an option.
He couldn’t do it. Not now.
And yet, every time he saw Regulus—every time he caught that damn look in his eyes, the one that seemed to beg James to say something—it was like suffocating.
Regulus deserved someone who could face those feelings head-on. Someone who wouldn’t run. Someone brave enough to say what they wanted. And James? He wasn’t that person. He never had been.
Maybe it would’ve been easier if Regulus had stayed away. If they had kept their distance, if the line between them had never been crossed. But now that James had felt it—now that he had tasted that fragile space between them, where nothing was certain—he didn’t know how to walk away.
And he hated himself for it.
Every time James saw Regulus smile, every time his voice rang through the air, it was a sharp reminder of what James could never have—what he could never admit.
I can't be that person. I can't do this.
But the truth, the one James couldn't bring himself to say aloud, was that deep down, he didn’t know how to stop wanting the one thing he knew he would never have.
—-
James hadn’t meant for it to happen. He hadn’t meant to spiral this way, to let every thought turn into this mess he didn’t know if he would be able to mend no matter how hard he tried. But here he was, sitting alone by the window in the Gryffindor common room, watching the rain streak down the glass. Each drop traced a path that seemed to mirror the chaos in his mind.
Night had settled in, and with it, the familiar weight of silence. When his mind was left to wander, it felt like he was drowning. Each thought crashed against him, one after another, threatening to pull him under.
Regulus.
It always came back to him.
James could still picture that damn smile—the one that had once made him feel like he was the only person in the room who mattered. The way Regulus’s eyes had softened when they spoke, the moments where, for a fraction of a second, it felt like they were more than just the chaos and bitterness that often marked their interactions.
But it hadn’t been real. He knew that now.
It had never been real.
If it had been, he would’ve done something different. He would’ve faced whatever this was, instead of running from it. But every time the chance came, he’d backed away. Not now. Not like this. I can’t be this person. I’m not ready.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe some grand moment of clarity. When he’d walked away from Regulus after that kiss, maybe he thought everything would suddenly make sense, that the world would fall back into place. But it hadn’t. All that remained was regret and a hollow ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
And now Regulus was with Dorcas.
The thought of it made James clench his jaw, his hands gripping the armrest of the chair. His eyes flicked toward the portrait hole, half-expecting Regulus to walk in. But the room was still, eerily still—like the quiet between breaths.
The rational part of him told him it wasn’t his business. Regulus was free to be with whoever he wanted. They weren’t together. Not anymore. They hadn’t been for nearly two weeks—not since that night in the common room when everything had begun to unravel.
And yet, the knot in his stomach wouldn’t loosen. Seeing them together—Regulus laughing with Dorcas, his eyes sparkling with something James had never seen before—hurt more than he wanted to admit. It made him feel small like the world had moved on while he remained stuck in a loop of what-ifs and maybes.
"You need to stop doing this to yourself," a voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.
James turned, startled, to see Lily standing there. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were softer than he expected—like she knew exactly what he was going through, even if he didn’t want to talk about it.
He opened his mouth, ready to offer some excuse or brush her off, but the words stuck. Lily had always been able to see through him. She always knew when he was hiding something.
She was the only one of his friends he’d told about his situation—he trusted her to understand, to give him an honest perspective. They’d grown closer when he’d stopped making unwanted advances toward her. She’d been suspicious at first when he told her he only wanted to be friends, but after he explained everything, she’d hugged him and told him he was a “stupid prick,” and if he ever tried anything like that again, she’d curse him into the next year.
"James," she said again, stepping closer. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You know it’s okay to feel how you feel about this, right? You don’t have to understand exactly who you are, it’s okay to take time to understand yourself."
James rubbed his face, trying to gather his thoughts, but all he could focus on was how impossible it felt to explain any of it. "I don’t know what I’m feeling. I thought it was just... whatever, you know? I thought it was just a stupid thing. A mistake. But it wasn’t. It’s not. And I... I can’t fix it. I can’t fix myself. I can’t change what I did to him, or force him to forgive me."
Lily’s eyes softened. She sat beside him, her presence steady and warm. "You can’t fix everything, James. Not everything needs to be fixed."
But the thing was, James didn’t want things to stay broken. He didn’t want to leave things unsaid, to keep pretending he was fine, pretending he was okay with how everything had turned out when deep down, he wasn’t. Every time he saw Regulus moving on, it felt like a part of him was dying.
"I screwed up," James muttered, his voice barely audible. "I had the chance, to be honest with him, to not run away. And I—"
"You couldn’t. Not then," Lily interrupted softly, her voice gentle but unwavering. "It’s okay to be scared, James. You’ve never done this before. Neither has Regulus. Neither of you knew what it meant."
But it wasn’t that easy. Not for James. Not when the weight of it was suffocating. He had pushed away something real, something he wasn’t ready for because he couldn’t face the truth. It felt like he’d lost the most important part of himself, and now he was struggling to put the pieces back together.
"I just feel like an idiot," James whispered, his head dropping into his hands. "Like I could’ve had it all, and I ruined it."
Lily was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was low but steady. "You didn’t ruin anything, James. You just need to give yourself time to figure out what you really want."
James exhaled a shaky breath. "It’s not that easy."
"I know it’s not," she said softly. "But it’s not the end of the world, either. You can’t beat yourself up for something you didn’t understand yet."
It was hard for James to hear that, harder still to believe he could fix anything after all this. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he even knew what he wanted anymore. He didn’t know if he was capable of giving Regulus what he deserved, or if it would be easier to just let him go and pretend he never mattered that much in the first place.
But something shifted in him—a flicker of resolve, a whisper of hope. Maybe there was a chance. Maybe he could still be honest. Maybe he could still face the truth of everything, even if it terrified him. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
"I just need to talk to him," James said quietly as if the idea had just begun to form in his mind.
Lily nodded, her gaze steady. "Maybe you do. But you need to do it for yourself, not for anyone else."
James blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"
Lily’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You can’t do this for anyone but yourself, James. Don’t carry around the guilt or the fear of what you think you should do. Don’t do it because Regulus deserves an explanation. Do it because you finally have one worth giving. Be honest with yourself first. Whatever happens after that, you’ll handle it."
Her words settled into him like a weight lifting off his chest, their truth sinking deep into his bones. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make things right. Maybe there was a chance, however slim, to be honest with Regulus—and with himself—about what he had been running from all along.
It was terrifying. But it was also the only way forward. For the first time in a long time, James felt something stir inside him that wasn’t fear. Maybe—just maybe—he could stop running. He stood, his heart pounding with the thought of what might come next. But this time, it felt different. This time, it felt like the right thing. No more pretending. No more silence. Regulus deserved the truth. He owed him that much.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.