The Fast Times, The Bright Lights
Saturday, November 8th, approx. 8am
“This isn’t even that early, Mum,” James laughs, as Effie complains about the early start to the morning on the drive to the fair.
“Isn’t it?” Effie yawns, her head tilting against the window.
Monty, the driver, pulls up to an already bustling Hogwarts.
“Good thing we set up last night,” Effie comments, looking at all the people who are already walking around.
“Agreed. It’d be even more of a nightmare trying to move things if you were asleep for it,” James sas, making Effie laugh.
They quickly head to the stand, adding the finishing touches for what’s needed. Effie adds a box for cash donations, and a code she’s printed off for the official Potterly Trees venmo. Apparently, that counts, as long as they don’t put it online. These kinds of questions are exactly why Remus needed to be here.
Speaking of, James catches Remus and Sirius strolling into the fair, laughing with each other and knocking shoulders. Remus is wearing his clothes from yesterday, which James would normally comment on, if Sirius hadn’t texted him that morning letting him know they’d be arriving together and it did NOT mean anything.
James waves them over, showing Remus the final signs the Potters had added that morning to really get the point across.
He nods approvingly. “None of this is banned, so we should be able to do well here. Our main goal is to get the word out- it’s important that people know we need help, and it’s good we’re starting on this early. It could be a lot more difficult if we only had a month to plan.”
“What do you mean?” James asks, curious as to how the situation could be worse.
“Well, take events like these for example- we got lucky, but a lot more planning is going to be needed if we want to truly spread the word. I studied a few cases where people had to raise money- we should also host a fundraising event, and invite a lot of the wealthy people in Godric’s Hollow and London. Appeal to the public. Get into the local newspaper, go around town and London, anything we can that would still apply to people who could buy your trees anyway,” Remus explains, going into detail about what they can do.
“We have to throw a party?” Sirius says, a mischievous look in his eye. Remus quickly backtracks.
“Not a party ,” he corrects. “A gala. Or a ball, if you will. Maybe something like a dinner party.”
“Sounds like a party to me,” Sirius jokes, despite probably knowing the difference between every kind of social event there is.
“And we have to?” Effie asks. James can tell she’s already planning, because she loves party-throwing and will find any excuse to do so, but he wonders if Remus can tell.
“You don’t have to,” Remus answers. “But as your lawyer, I have to, in good conscience, suggest it. The sooner you plan it, the better.”
“So we should start planning now?”
“As soon as possible, yes,” Remus says. “Don’t feel too stressed- people will still show up if you do it a week, or even a month, later, but it’s far more likely to get more RSVPs if you send the invites, say, tomorrow, than the day before said party.”
“When would we even have it?” Sirius asks.
“I’d suggest the December teens. Not too early from now, but not too late so that we’d only rely on it for money,” Remus estimates, calculating the days in his head.
“Speaking of money, how much do these events typically make?” Monty questions.
“It depends. I’ve seen it range from £20,000 to £50,000, depending on people invited, how rich said people are, how compelling the marketing is, all sorts of factors,” Remus says honestly, shrugging. “Really, it depends on a lot. There’s no way to tell for sure.”
“So this could, possibly, make up over half of what we need to raise?” James double checks, excited about the odds.
Remus hurriedly corrects that idea. “No- no, don’t say that. Well it could , but it’s unlikely for this company. I’d say we might be able to make £25,000, give or take a few thousand pounds.”
“Hopefully give,” James says, less excited.
“Let’s hope for that- remember, there’s still a lot we can do, and there are going to be a lot of opportunities for fundraising. Hopefully,” Remus adds, because really, there aren’t too many. It’d be much better if it was a summer business, but no such luck. “This is still counting on the idea that we sell all our trees and rent out lots of saws. There are lots of factors.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Remus,” Sirius grumbles. “Real inspiring.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Remus says innocently. “I tried to tell you guys, this may not be possible. On the other hand it could be, but there’s a very real chance you lose this farm.”
James just stares at Remus disappointedly.
“Excuse me,” someone says, stopping the potential squabble. “Is this stand for Potterly Trees?”
At the table stands a sweet-looking old woman, pointing to a flyer with information about the business and the fundraising.
James jumps right into action. “Hello, ma’am! Yes, it is!”
“Why? I know that company- what’s wrong with it?” She asks, her tone sweet enough but her words more accusatory.
“You’re probably aware of the bug problem from the last few years then, right?” James asks.
The woman nods. “Goodness, is that not taken care of yet?”
“No, no it’s completely taken care of, with a bonus of no pesticides used! But not many people know about it, and we’re here to advertise that. Potterly Trees is open for business again, and thriving with trees!” James says loud enough for the surrounding area to hear, answering the woman.
“So it’s open?”
“Yes, and very ready!”
“James, tell her about the other issue,” Sirius nudges, while Effie talks to a potential customer who wandered over after James’ announcement.
“What other issue?” The woman narrows her eyes, and James quickly clarifies.
“Well, this might be our last year,” he says sadly. “We’ve gotten an offer to sell that we’re going to have to take if we can’t raise £70,000 or so.”
“You want to take our money?” The woman gasps.
“What? No! No, not at all, we’re just hoping to raise enough-”
The woman laughs, catching James off guard.
“I’m only joking. I went to school with your mother over there- Euphemia!”
Effie waves at her, smiling in recognition.
“I’ll support it in any way I can. She was always so excited about taking over the farm, and the business, it’ll be sad to see it go to someone not worthy of Godric’s Hollow.”
James can’t say he’s shocked by this account of his mother, but it’s endearing, to hear her old classmates talk about her. He wonders if, in 30 years, his classmates will say the same about him. If they get the chance.
“Thank you so much,” James says, as she drops a 5 pound note into the box, and walks away with a wink. After about 30 seconds, Effie gasps.
“James!” She whispers, pulling out her phone and pointing to the screen. James gasps as well.
“£1000?!” His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Who sent that?”
“The woman who was just here. Did she not tell you?”
“No- I didn’t even see her take the picture! Well…that’s certainly helpful.”
Turning around, James finds one of their larger signs- a christmas tree with markings to indicate how much money they’ve raised. It’s raised up to 7 tiers of leaves, one for each £10,000. James uses a green marker to colour in a line for the £1,000 they’ve already raised.
“Only £69,000 to go!” James exclaims. Sirius starts to snicker at the number, making James snicker, before Effie points out another customer.
“James?” She asks. “You got this one?”
James nods, watching as Sirius shrinks back further into the tent.
Thanks, Regulus Black. That’s helping your case so much.
James steps around the table, walking to Regulus before he can reach them and ending up stopping him in the middle of the pathway, about two tents away from Potterly Trees.
“James!” Regulus smiles something synthetic, making James roll his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” James returns, walking Regulus away from the table, but not before he can catch a glimpse of the large sign.
“I went to Hogwarts, remember?”
James does remember Regulus at Hogwarts. Being only a year younger, they even had some classes overlap. After Sirius turned 16, those were the worst classes, because Sirius would always drop out of them or skip them. James didn’t do that, so he remembers Regulus better at Hogwarts.
He was also looking at something, whether that be the board, his friends, or the material. James can only remember Regulus looking at him once, and quickly looking away after. It stung a bit, but James gets it- it’d be a bit awkward, and it wasn’t like he liked the guy, either. But Regulus was nice to look at. There was no denying it, he was beautiful. Beautiful like a star, which made sense, given his name. There was a small bump on his noise James liked to study, and the shade of his blue eyes were ever-changing, so it was always a fun game trying to guess what colour they’d be that day.
At the moment, they’re a darker blue, almost stormy grey. James remembers it was pretty rare for his eyes to ever be light blue, like Sirius’ are. He saw them that shade maybe twice in the entire two years he was looking for it.
“Of course I remember,” James says, but it sounds odd, and not at all mean.
“I remember you , plenty. Always hanging out with Sirius, disrupting classes, throwing parties.”
“Is that why you’re here? Sirius?”
Regulus glares at him, shaking his head. “As I just said, I’m here because I used to go to Hogwarts.”
“Where are your parents, then?”
“I’m 25, James, I don’t need them everywhere.”
“No, but they went to Hogwarts, did they not?”
Regulus glares at him again, his eyebrows tilting into his face in an interesting way, like they’re confused about what to do.
“They thought it’d be better if they didn’t make an appearance. Less conspicuous.”
“They sent you here to spy, didn’t they?”
Regulus doesn’t respond, which James takes as a yes.
Someone bumps into his shoulder, so James pulls Regulus off the path, behind another vendor's tent.
Regulus pulls his hand away, the one that James grabbed, like his touch is acid.
“Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners? Like not to grab someone?” Regulus huffs, rubbing his wrist.
“You’re being dramatic, I barely touched it. Besides, I had to get us out of the way of traffic. That’s rude enough.”
If James wanted to, he could’ve said something about the insane way Regulus’ parents taught manners, but the thought doesn’t even cross his mind.
“It seems like you’re doing well so far,” Regulus eventually says. “I saw your little christmas tree. Very poorly drawn.”
“I’ll let my mum know you said so, she’s the artist,” James says back. A look of regret flashes across Regulus’ face.
“You know, you should really advertise more,” Regulus says, looking around.
“Trust me, we’re trying. Right now, signs are about the best we can do.”
“You know, I have a degree in marketing. I could help.”
“Why on earth would you do that ?”
Regulus shrugs. “We both know this case is pretty much hopeless, anyways. It’d make it more interesting for Starry Night.”
“Right. And I’m supposed to trust your advice?” James scoffs. “No way.”
“Your loss.”
“Is it?”
“I truly could care less if it is or is not.”
“Couldn’t,” James corrects.
“Huh?”
James grins. “You said you could care less, implying that you care, even a little bit. You couldn’t care less.”
Regulus chooses that precise moment to lean on one of the poles holding up another tent, which turns out not to be that sturdy.
Regulus doesn’t make a sound as the pole crashes through the tent, as opposed to the very loud crash sound.
“Regulus!” James yelps, then starts to laugh a bit. Regulus scowls at him, and James, to his own surprise, offers a hand to help.
Regulus takes it, also surprisingly, hoisting himself up with a bit of effort. The angry shopkeeper chooses this moment to come out of his stand to check who just knocked into his things.
“You two!” He yells, glowering at the two of them, Regulus’ hand still in James. He seems to remember this at the same time James does, extracting his hand like it’s on fire yet again.
“Is there any damage?” Regulus asks, with a calmness James doesn’t understand, and a very apologetic look on his face. “I swear, I can pay for any goods that might’ve been destroyed. My apologies, really, I just lost my balance. We’re very sorry.”
The man harrumphs, looking between the two. “It’s just a table. A mighty sturdy one, at that. But still…be careful where you’re doing- that.” His eyebrows furrow, looking between the two with a look mixed between disgust, embarrassment, and ashamement. That, and the words he said, confuse James before he puts two and two together at about the same time as Regulus.
“What? Oh- oh , no, we’re not-”
“We weren’t-”
The shopkeeper just heads back into his tent, putting up the pole with ease, and yelling through the canvas for them to find another tent to “canoodle” at despite their protests.
“Thanks a lot, Potter,” Regulus scoffs, as they walk away from the angry mumblings of “kids these days,” and sayings along those lines.
“How is this my fault?” James questions, flabbergasted. “I wasn’t the one who fell into the pole.”
“No, but you’re the one who helped me out of it with your hands .”
“Should I have used my feet? Offered you my knees to grip instead? Or perhaps my hips, maybe, because that all makes so much more sense.”
Regulus goes a bit red, making James realise what his words could be interpreted as.
“Oh- no not that way, sorry, that came out wrong. I only meant that it made the most sense. Was I supposed to just leave you there?”
Regulus mutters something under his breath that James can’t quite hear, but that he gets the gist of, from hearing Sirius’ name.
“If you’re going to insult him, at least say it to my face so I can defend him,” James says.
“I only said that’s what Sirius did,” Regulus replies, holding his chin up, but James can tell there’s a bit of embarrassment that his words have been caught.
“Exactly as he should’ve, too, and clearly what I should’ve done. How can you even say that he shouldn’t’ve? It was terrible for him there, and I don’t even know all of it. Clearly, it wasn’t as bad for you, given that you’re now a literal adult and are still staying.”
James recognises the slow, but fair blow, but doesn’t apologise for it.
“It’s Sirius’ own fault things were so much worse for him,” Regulus simply says, which only makes James a bit angry.
“How could you even say that? He only had it so much worse so you could have it better. Every extra hit he took was so that you didn’t have to,” James says, defending Sirius to the best of his abilities. This is easy, because Sirius told it to him himself.
“He did?”
Those two words hit James like a bus, because it never even crossed his mind that Regulus might not have known . To him, it seemed a given that he’d have known in some way.
“Of course he did. He wasn’t stupid, just protective,” James answers, softer than his previous tone.
“Seems a bit stupid for me, all that work to just…leave,” Regulus says. But he seems less bitter, and more hopeless about it, which makes James a bit sad and less angry.
“It wasn’t for nothing. I mean, you’re doing ok, so it’s not like it was nothing for him.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean it was worth it all, in the end. Or he thinks it is, most of the time, and that’s what counts. He doesn’t regret it because you’re doing well in the world. Hell, compared to him, you’re doing better . Don’t tell him I said that, but objectively, it’s true. We’re barely scraping by and you have a cushy job at your parents business he could never dream of.”
“He’s going to get Potterly Trees, he’ll be fine,” Regulus says, still adjusting to this other version of Sirius he hasn’t really known.
“I’m inheriting the farm. Of course, I’m going to share it with him, we’ll be partners, but it won’t be the same as you inheriting Starry Night would be. Not to him.”
“At least you know all of this,” Regulus bites back. “Towards the end, all he ever said to me was ‘Watch this’ before he did something stupid. And then, at the end, he asked me to come with him. Clearly, I didn’t. My parents chased him off before he could even say goodbye .” Regulus’ voice cracks on the last word, and James notices his red cheeks and nose might not be from the cold.
“He wishes he said more, if that helps,” James says. He really shouldn’t, but he wants to comfort Regulus, let him know it’s not all hopeless and bad.
“I wish he’d told me that, and not you,” Regulus says honestly. “It doesn’t mean as much. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” James shrugs. “That makes sense. You could always ask him yourself, though. See what’s going on with him. Don’t talk about Starry Night, or your parents, or the deal, though- just stay curious about him. He’ll open up eventually.”
“He won’t. He always sort of…shrinks away when I talk to him,” Regulus says, the bitterness creeping back into his voice.
“Only because he thinks you hate him. Which you haven’t exactly proven you don’t yet, but that I’m inclined to believe he’s wrong about. You’re the one who shrunk away at The Three Broomsticks, remember?”
Regulus doesn’t have a response for that, so a few moments of silence pass before Regulus hesitantly asks, “Could I have his number? Just to reach out, you know. See what happens.”
James smiles widely. “Of course. What’s yours, so I can text it to you?”
A bit uncertainly, Regulus gives it, and soon the trade for Sirius’ is worth it.
“Thanks,” he says, as they reach the back of the Potter’s tent.
“No biggie,” James smiles. “You should reach out. Trust me.”
Regulus shrugs, walking away with a “Good luck,” and a wave, and James ducks through the back flap of canvas, spooking Sirius.
“Oh- hey!” Sirius greets, from one of the folding chairs behind the table. James is glad to be back under the cover of canvas- a bit of a drizzle had started (thanks, England), and he would’ve liked to not get soaked that particular day.
“Hey,” James says back. “Where’s mum and dad?”
“In the truck. Taking a nap.”
“Classic mum.”
“It was dad’s idea, actually,” Sirius laughs. “I’m telling you, that man is not a morning person, no matter how much you both insist he is. I’m fully convinced Effie is one, though.”
“You’re insane,” James laughs, although he can see the point about his dad.
“Sure,” Sirius says, then, bringing the tone of the conversation to a more serious vibe, asks, “Who was that out there? The person thanking you?”
James hesitates, even though it’s Sirius. Really, he should tell him, because it’d be a lot less strange to get a random number claiming to be Regulus if your best friend gives you a heads up you’re going to, but there’s still the chance this could go horribly wrong and Sirius will never speak to him again (a very low chance, but a concern nevertheless). Being further away from those sad, grey eyes of Regulus is making James regret it more and more.
“It was Regulus,” James answers honestly, because lying won’t benefit either of them.
“Why was he thanking you? I can hardly believe he can do that at all,” Sirius jeers, but still seeming a bit accusatory. Any humorous atmosphere has completely disappeared, replaced by a more suspicious one.
“I sorta…maybe…possibly…may have given him your phone number?” James tries. Sirius’ jaw drops.
“What the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I know, I know, I really shouldn’t have, but he was all sad and stuff.”
“So you gave him my number, why ?”
“He was sad about you. I suggested reaching out. There’s a lot of things you guys really have to work through and tell each other, if I’m going to be honest.”
“Please don’t be,” Sirius simply responds.
“Alrightly, hint taken. But I just figured I’d warn you- if you get a text from him, don’t ignore it. Please. For both of your sakes.”
There’s also the possibility Regulus won’t text at all, which would only hurt both of them more, James knows.
“What if this is all some elaborate ploy to get under our skin from Starry Night?” Sirius theories, making James sigh.
“You didn’t see the look in his eyes when he talked about you. He thinks that you hate him . And maybe you do, which I won’t blame you for, but he doesn’t have to know that. You should be the one to tell him either way. There’s a lot we thought he’d know that he doesn’t.”
“You think you know him better than me? My own baby brother?”
“I’m not saying that-” James quickly corrects. “But this could give you the chance to actually know him. He’s not the same kid he was 10 years ago, Sirius.”
“He’s still with them. That’s against me.”
“I’m not going to defend him for that. But you should still, at the very least, reach out. Maybe it will help.”
James, now having seen Sirius’ reaction, is even more conflicted on if he should’ve given Sirius’ number to Regulus. He knows he should have asked first, but if he’d asked, and Sirius had said no, that would ruin the whole thing. And Regulus might not have even wanted it anymore, given how unpredictable the Black brothers could be, so it wouldn’t even be worth it.
James honestly doesn’t think he’s gotten through to him, but hey, at least he’s tried. It’ll count for something, for sure, and if he can help in any way that’s good enough for him. Plus, there’s the added bonus of getting Regulus’ number. The load of Christmas gifs he can send him are unlimited.
_____________
Saturday, November 8th, approx. 11am
The Emergency Brunch text sits unanswered at Regulus’ phone, but that’s predicted of his friends- they like to be mysterious, because they’re a bunch of shitheads, but hey- they're his shitheads.
Right as Regulus is actually starting to get worried, because there’s always going to be that small fear in him, Dorcas bursts through the door, her arms full of pastries from a local shop.
“Emergency brunch?” She questions, dropping the food on Regulus’ counter unceremoniously. Emergency brunch was something his friend group created about 4 years ago, when their schedules really started getting busy and there was less and less time to see each other. If you had big news, or it’d been months, you could call an emergency brunch and everyone would drop everything and come, no questions asked. It was probably one of the silliest things Regulus had ever participated in, yet he went to every single one.They hadn’t used one in months, but Regulus figured this was an appropriate time.
“Emergency Brunch,” Regulus confirms, as Barty, Evan, and Pandora waltz in. Pandora had only been to two out of the 8 total brunches, due to her late joining of the group, but she was a large enjoyer of them.
“What’s this about?” She asks, setting down her own items. Barty sets down a small bottle of fun-coloured liquid, probably alcohol, as they join him at Regulus’ kitchen table.
Regulus enjoys his kitchen, and the table there, and really anything in his flat a lot. It’s a modest flat, but still large, because there’s still a small amount of luxury he’s accustomed to. It’s the one place he has away from his parents, one that he only got after a lot of convincing. But he did it. And he decorated it in the way he wanted, giving it more life than the gloomy house he grew up in, and more personality rests in the kitchen than he ever saw in his old house. It’s a very nice flat, to say the least.
The kitchen is airy, and bright whenever the sun is out. It isn’t today, but the rainy shade of grey matches well enough. His dining room is fairly simple, but he likes it better that way- less fuss, and less cleaning. Regulus hates cleaning. The only time he ever does is when his parents come over for their weekly visits, so maybe that has something to do with it.
“It’s James,” Regulus says, already expecting his friend's reactions. They don’t mind him too much, if he’s honest, but it can get annoying to be constantly reminded of things you’d rather not think about.
“Of course it is,” Dorcas sighs. “What now? He parted his hair differently?”
“He can’t part his hair, it’s too messy. He probably pet a dog or something, and Regulus is going to tell us how that makes him a terrible person,” Barty says, garnering words of agreement from the others at the table.
“Guys, this is serious,” Regulus says. “He gave me Sirius’ number.”
“Oh,” Dorcas says. “That’s definitely emergency brunch worthy. I thought you were just going to complain about him again.”
“He’s getting harder and harder to complain about, that’s the issue,” Regulus tells her, complaining. “He stood up for Sirius, but it was actually a fair point, which is just annoying. Then he tried to help us.”
“How rude,” Evan agrees. “That would make it hard to hate him as you do.”
“You see my dilemma. Plus, he sent me some stupid Christmas gif with the number.”
Regulus pulls out his phone to show them the gif of the kitten rolling in snow under a tree, causing the group to all “oooh,” and “awww,” at it.
“Stop doing that! This is a war kitten,” Regulus demands, which only makes the group laugh.
“So do you need our help responding to the gif with an equally as terrifying and threatening one as it, or actually texting Sirius?” Barty says, easily switching from joking to serious and concerned as only Barty can do.
“Don’t worry about the gif, I’ll find something. I just can’t decide if I should text him or not.”
“Why not?” Pandora questions, probably the most sympathetic out of all of them.
“It could be a trap, or a trick or something.”
“Regulus,” she says, giving him a tired look. “Do you honestly think James would do that to you?”
“Not James. It’d be easier to imagine he had good motivations, he was kind about it and the whole situation. It’s Sirius I’m worried about.”
“I don’t know what we can do, man,” Evan says, shrugging sadly. “This sounds like something you should decide.”
“Thanks, Evan.”
“I’m serious! If you want to reach out, you want to reach out, simple as that, so you should. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Easy peasy.”
“It really isn’t.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you! Personally- I’d reach out. Better to know than to not know. But again- it’s up to you, I guess.”
“So I should reach out?”
Regulus hates the way he’s asking his friends- it goes against everything he’s been taught. Solve your own problems. Don’t rely on people. Shut them out if they get too close. A while ago, though, Dorcas had suggested this- talking about his problems. Miraculously, it helps, and he finds ways to heal in his own way. There's still so much he'll never tell them, and that he never has before, but Sirius is easier to talk about considering they don't make their wages off of him.
“Yes,” Dorcas answers for him. “Just first send a ‘hey, is this Sirius?’ or something and see where it goes from there. If he blocks you, well, you can set the farm on fire or something.”
“That would ruin the samples,” Pandora objects.
“Do not burn the farm, then- maybe just key his car? Make absolutely certain he doesn’t get the farm?”
“That’s…a bit harsh. It’d be hurting James, and Euphemia and Fleamont, too,” Regulus says. Barty groans.
“Do you hear yourself? ‘No, it’ll hurt poor James, no Dorcas!” He mocks, earning him a glare.
“Sorry I have empathy?”
Barty snorts, which just deepens Regulus’ glare, although it’s a fair thing to laugh at. Regulus still can’t believe he never noticed. Something in him wants to tell his friends, but there’s so much he’s vowed never to tell, he’s worried if he starts he won’t be able to stop. It’ll all pour out in one big burst, and he’ll be left absolutely empty if he doesn’t have his secrets.
“Thanks, guys,” Regulus says, then to his friend’s sceptical faces, “Really! Thank you.”
“Are you going to, then?” Pandora asks, a piece of her white-blonde hair falling askew as she cocks her head curiously.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s eat, though- the pastries smell delicious.”
“And the drinks-”
“I am not getting drunk at 11am on a workday,” Dorcas grumbles.
Oddly enough, Regulus realises the pastries are from that shop James’ friends own- The Leaky Cauldron, if he remembers correctly, which he does.
The emergency brunch takes a much lighter undertone to it once the main discussion is out of the way, and most of them just count it as a lunch break, enjoying the unexpected time with friends. It’s Regulus’ day off, however, so once his friends leave the choice of who to text seems obvious.
_____________________________
Hello? Is this Sirius?
Well, there’s no going back now. It’s probable Sirius is still at the fair- it would make sense, after all. Regulus thinks it goes until about 5 or so, and then of course everything the next day.
depends
whos this
Regulus had hoped that Sirius would just know it was him. When they were kids, it was easy like that- almost telepathic, the way they could tell what the other was thinking. Or not, considering the large chunk of childhood Regulus had apparently never known of.
Regulus
oh
Yeah
How’s fundraising?
itd be easier if we didnt have to
But is it going well?
why do you even care
I feel bad. A bit.
you can feel?!!!
Regulus doesn’t really think that’s necessary, nor the long string of shocked emojis that follow the question.
I know, surprising.
why are you curious? going to steal info, maybe mess up our campaign?
No
why did you ask James for my number
I wanted to talk to you
you couldve talked to me anytime in the last, i dont know, 10 years
You could’ve talked to me, too
dont turn this around on me!! you chose to stay
You chose to go
I had to
I know
I’m sorry
James told me that part
fucking traitor
I didn’t know
Sirius doesn’t read the text. He’s probably busy with a customer, or something like that.
I miss you
Regulus’ fingers hover over the send button. There’s a small part of him that just wants to block Sirius, and steal the farm, but it’s a complicated matter, as all family is. The greater part of him, the one that wants to keep in touch with SIrius forever, is the one that sends the message eventually, before quickly shutting his phone off and flinging it across the room. It’s anyone’s guess, what could happen now.
He still regrets telling James everything he did. It was foolish, for lack of a better word. There wasn’t a good reason to do it, other than the simple fact it was easy to. James is easy to talk to, and no matter how right the other person is, there’s always going to be that part of Regulus that defends himself in any way possible. That’s what he assumed happened today- that part took over, making him seem weak in an effort to win. What makes it worse is that he didn’t even win the argument.
What he really wants to do is tell James off, or maybe thank him, and also never see either of them again. None of the above seem like viable options, though, so Regulus lets them go.
From across the room, his phone rings.
Slowly, Regulus goes to get it, a bit scared of who would be calling. His first thought jumps to Sirius, and then James, and then maybe one of his friends, so he’s disappointed by the caller ID of “Walburga.” She’d kill him if she knew that was her name, but she doesn’t yet. His little act of rebellion.
“Yes?” He answers, because it’ll be worse if he doesn’t.
“Have you seen those Potter’s stand at that stupid market yet?”
“I checked this morning, Mum. They only had £1,000 or so.”
“Well, not now! They’re up to £5.000. £5,000! And it’s only noon.”
“They won’t make it back, don’t worry,” he reassures her.
“Oh, they’ll find a way, they’re sure to. We’re going to need to combat this in some way.”
“How? We didn’t reserve a space at the fair, and it’d be useless to buy one of the vendors out. I tried asking around - they aren’t very open to it.”
It’s a lie, but she doesn’t know that.
“You're the head of marketing, aren’t you?” Orion’s voice sounds through the phone, startling Regulus. While Sirius had his problems with their mother, Regulus’ problems always lay with their father. With the new information acquired today, he wonders if this is just because Sirius was more afraid of their father, and therefore didn’t fight back as much.
It also didn’t do him any favours that Orion wasn’t home nearly as often. Due to being the owner of the company, he was always doing foreign deals, travelling, and staying far away from home. Regulus didn’t blame him.
“Yes,” Regulus admits.
“And you’ve at least studied physcology, no?”
“Yes,” Regulus grits through his teeth, seeing where the conversation is probably going to go.
“Use that, then. Let the public know we’re in control. That we’re going to be the ones selling the trees. You hear me? They can’t win this.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Understood?”
“ Yes , Father,” Regulus says again, in a more frustrated tone that his parents thankfully don’t notice.
“Good. Get to it, then. I want a copy of what we can do on my desk by Tuesday at the latest. We’re not going to have them win.”
This only confirms Regulus’ suspicions that Starry Night is actually worried about Potterly Trees. Not about them overtaking the business, but it’s undeniable they present a fair amount of competition. However much they make in sales could be going into the Black family pocket instead, and that’s what they care about the most - the money.
Regulus remembers, one Christmas, his only Christmas, asking his mother about Father Christmas.
“What a foolish thing to ask, Regulus. Stop talking about nonsense,” she’d demanded, and Regulus, a sensitive child, had run off to hide somewhere. The house was hardly ever decorated.
Sirius was the one who’d reassured him that Santa was real, and that sometimes he just missed their house, that’s all.
Regulus had forgotten that until recently. That Christmas, he’d received a few hundred pounds, and a lecture about proper decorum after Sirius had flipped a fork toward their cousin, Bellatrix, during the grand family dinner.
Regulus almost texts Sirius to remind him, but holds back at seeing the empty inbox. The messages are read.