Friends
James lets out a longsuffering sigh as he falls dramatically onto his bed, dropping his bookbag onto the floor with a clunk. His and Regulus’s interaction with Dumbledore is replaying in his mind. What kind of fucking nerve did Dumbledore have, calling Regulus that? Maybe James didn’t like the kid—detested him, even—but that was fucking low. That was way too far.
Remus ignores him, only glancing up momentarily from his book, which is only a few inches from his nose. Peter keeps his own eyes on the chess match he’s playing against himself on the dorm room floor. Sirius is the only one who pays him any attention.
“What is it, Mate?” the oldest Black brother asks, eyes trained on Remus’s bowed head. The taller boy’s sandy hair is falling into his face, and his leg is bouncing anxiously as he sits on the side of his bed.
James sighs again, this time drawing Peter’s consideration. “I hate him.”
“My brother or Professor Dumbledore?” Sirius offers, laughing.
James grins. “Both.” His face falls back to neutrality as he remembers Dumbledore’s verdict, and his stomach tightens.
Remus glances up at him again and catches the angsty look on his friend’s face, brows drawing in concern. “What happened, Prongs?”
The fond nickname brings a hint of happiness back into James, only for it to be promptly stamped out by Peter, who leans back against the wall and mutters, “What’s one more detention, Prongs?”
“It’s not one,” James grits out, annoyance flaring up in his chest, though he knows he has no reason to be upset with Peter. None of this was his fault. “Fuck off.”
“Oi!” Remus steps in, and James’s cheeks heat up with shame.
“Sorry, Wormy,” he whispers.
The four marauders stare in silence at one another until Sirius says, “Merlin, this has really got your panties in a twist. The hell did Dumbledore say?”
James feels his jaw tighten, and he glares up at the canopy above his bed, careful not to look at any of his friends. He debates telling them about Dumbledore purposely misgendering the younger Black brother, but decides that he’d like to keep it. This could be just his. “Dumbledore wants Black and I to do detentions together.”
Remus shrugs, snapping his book shut and laying it gingerly on the sheets beside him. “Well, that’s not really so bad, is it?”
James makes an odd noise, then hears light footsteps pad toward his bed. The mattress sinks beneath Sirius’s weight as his friend lays down beside him, concentrating on the same loose thread on the canopy above them as James. He doesn’t touch him. Somehow, Sirius has a superpower to know exactually when a touch will overstimulate James and when he needs one. And right now—right now it’s already hard for James to get a full breath.
None of his friends speak, waiting him out. Finally James pinches his eyes shut. “Flitwick is going to put a binding spell on us so that we have to attend all our fucking classes together.” Now that it’s out, James realizes how absurd it sounds.
But none of his friends laugh, sensing how overwhelmed the thought of being that close to someone all day, without a single break, is actually making him.
Eventually, Remus clears his throat. “Is that even fucking legal? Because I can probably find a direct violation of the Ministry laws somewhere—”
“Dumbledore said it’s all worked out,” James counters, massaging the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache starting at the base of his neck.
“Of course he did,” Pete mutters darkly. “Listen, Prongs—”
“What a fucking asshole!” Sirius bursts out beside him in indignation, having apparently just processed the information.
James can’t hide his smile. While he could always count on Remus to rationalize and Pete to sympathize, he could always, always count on Sirius to adopt his feelings in whole, no matter how unobjective he was being.
“How long is this supposed to go on?” Remus asks in a much calmer voice, and Sirius’s gaze rests on the older boy. James had noticed Sirius did a lot of this recently; a lot of this staring and admiring Moony, but he hadn’t thought too much about it.
James shrugs, sitting up. “Until ‘you both have cooled your tempers and learned how to work out your differences in a civil, adult manner,’” James mimics in a deprecating way. “How fucking useless is that?!”
“I know!” Sirius agrees angrily.
Peter and Remus exchange a look. “And… and when exactly—”
“Monday,” James huffs, followed by a string of creative profanities.
“Sorry, Mate,” Pete decides on eventually. “Em—Moons, you hungry?”
Remus latches onto the change in conversation and scenery with vigil. “Yeah, how about we all head down for dinner?”
And that’s the end of it in the marauder’s dorm… for now.
***
As soon as Regulus is in the door, he slams it, locks it shut, and then slides down it onto the floor, bag clutched to his chest. The previous chatter of the room barely dies down, though Barty gives him a courtesy glance. Evan, who had walked in with him, plunks down on Barty’s bed, flopping over so his blonde hair rests on Barty’s thigh. Mindlessly, Barty starts carding his fingers though Evan’s hair.
On Evan’s bed, Dorcas is lying with their head on Marlene’s chest, dozing off slightly while their girlfriend plays with the metal rings on their dark hand. Pandora is across the room, cross-legged on Regulus’s bed, schoolbooks splayed open around her. Together, they make a happy, broken little family.
“What is it, Love?” Dora questions in that breathy voice of hers that makes all the problems in the world melt away. Regulus feels his shoulders relax slightly at the sound, pressing his lips together. It’s getting to the point in the day where Regulus’s binder is too tight on his chest, making it hard to take a full breath.
He just shakes his head and Dora nods, sliding off the bed and over to him, plopping down on the ground beside him. Wordlessly, she tugs the bookbag out of his arms, then pulls him down so his head is pillowed on her stomach.
Usually, physical touch is too much for Regulus, but Dora has such soft hands, and she makes him feel so, so safe… and so, he allows this. She quirks an eyebrow at him; is this okay, Love? He nods; yeah.
“What happened?” Mercifully, she’s not talking to him, but to Evan, who is practically purring in Barty’s lap. Though the two friends are very touchy with one another, they claim that it’s totally platonic. But Regulus, Dora, Cassie, and Marls know for a fact that they both fancy one another and are just too dense to see it. He thinks that if they would just get over themselves and shag already that things would be a lot easier for everyone involved.
Evan shrugs as Barty grabs a book off his nightstand, resting both his arms on Evan’s shoulders as he faces the book toward them. “Don’t know, he won’t talk. But he got sent there with Potter. The scoundrel.”
A light flicks on in Dora’s head, and he can see her trying to solve the puzzle. Sometimes, he wonders if she should have been in Ravenclaw. “So, it was obviously worse than just detention,” she reasons, and Evan nods. Barty ignores them but stiffens at the motion. Marls’ eyes are jumping around the room. He can tell she has something to add, but Dorcas is a light sleeper, so she keeps her usually-running mouth closed.
“You’ve got detention before, haven’t you, Reggie?” she asks without waiting for a response. “Why’re you acting so weird then?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Marlene whispers, and Dora’s eyes find Cassie’s girlfriend. On top of her, Cassie stirs, ever so slightly. “Whatever he’s got to do is with Potter.”
The pinched look of disgust on Regulus’s face betrays him; Evan presses his lips trying not to laugh, Barty’s eyes snap up to meet Regulus’s, and Dora crinkles her nose.
“Reggie?” Evan prompts, and Barty promptly whacks him over the head with his book, earning an “Oi, fuck off!” though he makes no attempt to leave Barty’s lap.
“Well, that’s not too bad, Love,” Dora croons, sliding her fingers into Regulus’s hair, mousing it up. “We can make it work. We’ll help you. Reggie?” He looks up into her imploring eyes to find them soft and kind, reading him like a book. “It’s okay.” He just nods.
Barty and Evan are now reading together, and Marls has rested her head on top of Dorcas’s, completely at ease. Regulus leans into Dora’s touch. The absolutely wonderful thing about Dora is that she means everything she says, hands out everything at face value. She didn’t want Regulus in any way other than a sister would. If she wasn’t asexual, he wonders if he would feel so safe around her and decides not to entertain the thought.
“Reggie, what happened?” she whispers. “You’re not breathing well, d’you need to take your binder—”
“No,” he says too quickly, and Dora tilts her head, blonde dreadlocks falling aside. “Reggie?” she says, even more softly, and Regulus can feel the tears he’s so carefully hidden away returning. “Did somebody hurt you?” There’s a threat in her voice.
Regulus chokes on his own words before getting out a strained version of, “called me Miss,” and promptly buries his face in Pandora’s stomach.
“Oh, Baby,” she sighs, pulling him close and rubbing circles on his back. “You are such a handsome boy, Regulus Arcturus Black, and no one ever gets to take that away from you,” Pandora reassures him. “Was it Potter?” she asks after his shoulders stop shaking, trying to keep the bite out of her voice and failing.
Regulus shakes his head, knowing all too well that she’s going to march straight to Professor Dumbledore’s office in a suit and tie the second she’s alone, and he’s going to let her.
Eventually, they move to his bed. Eventually, Dorcas wakes up and Marls and they both leave to their own dorm. Eventually, Barty and Evan have fallen asleep, their book open on Evan’s chest. Eventually, Regulus’s eyes slip shut, and he allows himself to drown in silence.