Nova

James had once read that there were these key moments in ones life. These anchor points that the brain twists and wraps around. That it runs decisions by and compares every single situation its ever in, to.

It was strange really how most of James' anchor points were in some way or another connected to the Black brothers.

Sirius' delighted laugh when he'd tried minced pie for the first time. The feeling of hunting a quaffle alongside the friend he considered a brother. His first time of experiencing complete and utter dread after hearing what happened at Grimmauld Place. The quiet, shattering heartbreak he'd felt when Sirius appeared at his doorstep one night, blood soaked and broken.

And then there was Regulus.

Regulus whom he'd helped teach how to fly because he was just two years younger than Sirius, but boy did he not hold up well under pressure. Regulus who had admired his older brother with such fierceness, it had bordered on worship. Regulus who was left behind as Sirius ran away, whom Sirius cried over each and every day, whom they eventually got out.

It hadn't been easy. Merlin had it not been easy.

Sirius was barely seventeen at the time, he didn't have any claim to take his younger brother with him. They knew that they didn't stand a chance with the wizengamot. Not when their ranks were filled with Death Eaters and purebloods loyal to the cause.

So, after desperate attempts at solutions, they went to muggle law enforcements. Even then it had taken months. Then finally Walburga had been arrested. On account of child abuse. Orion had fled, not to be heard from again. But Regulus ... They'd had it all planned out; the room he'd stay in. The way they'd take him in. The choices they'd finally let him make.

However it turned out that you could not simply adopt your little brother on the premise that your mother was in jail. Not even Fleamont and Euphemia had been able to do anything. And so Regulus went into foster care. They lost track of him for a while, Sirius had almost gone mad.

When he finally managed to get his younger brother into his care Regulus was almost eighteen. He had been thrust in and out of homes and facilities, met good and bad people, and overall had lost any and all resemblance from the boy they'd known almost two years prior.

The one who'd collected flowers every chance he had and hugged his brother with so much force they'd stumble and crash more often than not, was now reserved and quiet. And if he wasn't, he was angry and defensive.

Lashing out at everyone and everything near until no one really knew what to do anymore. How to help.

James thought that that must be why his heart felt like it was crumbling in on itself as he was cradling Regulus in the neon light of the club's bathroom.

That ongoing question of how do I help you, how do I help you, what happened to you, I see you, I see you, I see you.

But as Regulus' chanted his desire to be free with a feverish gleam in his stormy eyes, James remembered something else. Something his parents had taught him, with their words, but mostly with their actions: take people for what they are, not for what you want them to be.

Or, in this case, what you remembered them to be. They had all been desperate to get the old Regulus back. To restore him. Maybe they had been wrong. The broken despair in Regulus' voice certainly said so.

"Come dance with me Reggie." It was the only thing he could think of, the thing that made him feel free like nothing else.

Reg stared at him, then they were moving. Slinking through the masses of bodies just outside the bathroom, clinging onto each other not to loose themselves in the dark.

The beat in this club wasn't supposed to just be heard, it was meant to be felt. To synchronise with your heartbeat and shake your bones and break your heart.

With every step closer to the dance floor James felt the humming of the music deeper and deeper. He turned around, walking backwards, tugging Regulus along.

Regulus mouthed something and he slowed down leaning closer so he could hear.

"What if I can't do it?"

"That's the thing about being free Reg," James says, beaming at him, "it doesn't matter. No right, no wrong, just you." He slowed to a stop now, waited for a sign of discomfort of uneasiness.

Determination slid onto Reggie's face. It's not exactly the expression you'd expect from someone who is about to enter a dance floor, but when James offered his hand and Regulus grabbed onto it he couldn't help but feel elated.

They elbowed though the sea of bodies, to the center of the dance floor. James' body already moving to the beat and when they arrive he twirled around, stepping a little closer to Regulus and let his hips start moving to a familiar Spanish rhythm.

They always came here because of it. It reminded him of home, of his parents. The Spanish words, the swaying hips.

Regulus' eyes started darting around. James wasn't sure if it was the many people, the music, the lights or the alcohol but the boy looked lost.

Gently, giving him time to pull away, James put his hands to Reg's sides. "Just move with me alright?" He murmured.

Regulus grabbed onto his elbows and for a moment he thought he might be pushing him away when Reg started rocking in his arms.

It would have been funny; the ever elegant, hardcore Regulus Black, awkwardly moving to Daddy Yankee, but all James could feel was relief.

If he did this right, it might work. It might help.

With every song the younger Black grew more confident. He didn't let go of James, clutching his sleeves like his life depended on it. Not that James minded.

And when Mi Gente came on and the corners of Regulus' mouth quirked up and he started mouthing some of the lyrics James couldn't help but let out a startled, carefree laugh.

"Yes!" he yelled over the music, grabbing onto the boy in front of him a little tighter, "That's it Reg! Just let it go!"

They were close, they were so fucking close and Regulus was looking up at him like he was the only person in this room. There was still eyeliner on his cheeks, runny and blotched. It made him look more human, broken but held together at the seams.

James shivered at the thought that currently it was him holding Regulus together.

The tips of Reg's hair had begun curling again and James ran a gentle hand through it, transfixed. Mesmerised.

There was a speck of green in Regulus' eyes. Light, so light you would miss it, but James didn't. He leaned impossibly closer.

His hand still rested in Reg's hair when they came to a stop, the song over, the beat gone. Staring at each other and then Regulus was pressing up.

Their mouths crashing together and Regulus tucked himself even closer to James. He was suprised for a millisecond, before kissing back with so much vigour Reg gasped, opening his mouth. James' hand slid to Reg's back. Holing him tight, tight, tight.

He tasted like salt and wind and the sea. Like freedom and promises and olives.

Olives. From the Martinis he'd seen him down. Olives Regulus apparently liked to keep in his mouth and chew very slowly. Olives and alcohol. Fuck.

He pulled away. Regulus would have stumbled, still chasing his mouth, eyes closed, hadn't he already been holding him.

Regulus stared up at him, face unreadable. Disappointment? Hurt maybe, shone in his eyes but he kept it locked up, sealed away.

"Reg you're drunk."

Wrong thing to say. Wrong fucking thing.

Where the beautiful boy had been nestled into him the blink of an eye ago, was now cold emptiness. Said boy already halfway through the crowd, towards the exit as James finally blinked back to life.

Useless as it was he called his name, shoving and squeezing, but he still lost track of him before he could burst into the cold night air. Looking around frantically he spotted a quickly disappearing figure and made it into a sprint.

"Regulus!"

"Fuck off James."

"No Reg, wait!" for the second time that night James Potter proved to be an utter fool and grabbed at Reg's arm who pulled away so violently he almost stumbled.

"I said fuck OFF!"

"Let me explain, Reg, just listen-"

"Explain? You think I don't know what a fucking mess I am? You think I need to listen to you to point out what's wrong with me?" Regulus sneered.

"I get it James. I'm the broken doll your best friend brought home. The fucked up mess who can't take care of himself so James fucking Potter has a new thing he can fix!"

"I-" James tried but Regulus threw up his hands, "and I was so stupid, god was I stupid to think that you wanted me..."

His face turned cold then, "it was smart, getting me to dance. Job well done," he let out a dry laugh, it sounded awful. "But I get it now. Wherever I go, I'll just be the dead soul that nobody wants."

And then he turned and left.

James' mind was reeling. He didn't really understand how this had gone so horribly wrong but he couldn't help but think that Regulus was probably one of those people full of self-hatred that got praised as self awareness. As critical thinking when he was really eating himself alive.

Someone pressed against him from behind, an arm across his shoulder and he knew it was Sirius just by the smell.

"He's a bit of a time bomb, that Reggie," Sirius slurred, resting his head on James' shoulder.

"Give him some time, eh? He's gotta figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

Sirius pressed his nose into James shoulder. "How much we love him. That we aren't leaving. It's not enough to just hear it, you gotta see it, feel it. In here," he tapped his heart.

James swallowed. He knew that. It hadn't come easily to Sirius and sometimes the remnants of his past were still there even now.

But as he stood there, staring after someone long gone, he couldn't help but think that Regulus might be explosive, but to him, he definitely wasn't a time bomb.