Speak Now

Transfiguration is one of their shared classes, and James spots his friends immediately.  Instinctively, he beelines for them, but Regulus lags behind, and the invisible line pulls taught, yanking on them both.  Regulus drops his books with a smacking sound on the stone floor.

“Oi!” Regulus snaps.  “What the fuck?!”

“Merlin,” James mutters.  What is going on with Regulus?  Hadn’t they just made a step forward in their friendship, if you could call it that?  He stops to help the Slytherin collect his books.  When he hands Regulus the large volume, the younger boy is scowling deeply.

James rolls his eyes, moving again toward his friend.  “Where are you going?” Regulus demands.

Gods, what the hell has gotten into him?  “To sit with my friends,” James explains, as if to a child, and Regulus’s face hardens.

“No, we’re sitting with my friends—”

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius shouts across the hall.

They both look at him.  Lupin and Pettigrew are bent over a desk with Lily Evans, noses buried in a book.  Sirius is smiling at James, but the second his gaze shifts to his brother, something like concern passes over his face.

On the other side of the room, Regulus’s friends, Pandora and Evan Rosier, Crouch, and Meadows, who’s sitting in her own isle with Marls, are glaring daggers at him, exception of the Gryffindor beater and Dorcas, who are too busy staring into one another’s eyes to notice.

James looks back to Regulus, who looks indifferent at this point.  Insistently, James edges toward his own friends.  Just as the line begins to tug unpleasantly, Regulus folds, sighing exaggeratedly and slouching toward the other Gryffindors.  James smiles triumphantly, sliding in between Sirius and Regulus.

The lesson proceeds quietly, until halfway through, when Sirius nudges James’s shoulder and passes him a note.  Brow furrowing, James takes it and begins to unfold it.

Do you need to talk?  I'm—

He looks up at that, thoroughly perplexed at what the hell is going on to find Sirius violently shaking his head and pointing aggravatedly at his brother, who is slouched in his seat, completely zoned out.  James, realizing his mistake, refolds the note and passes it under the table to Regulus, who first looks surprised, then annoyed.

But he takes it anyway.  James watches as the younger boy reads, face clouding over, then he glances up at Sirius.  The two have some sort of telepathic conversation that would have lasted hours if it had been spoken, and by the end, both brothers appear as if they’ve come to an impassive compromise.

By the end of class, McGonagall dismisses them quietly, and the five of them get up, and Pete, Moons, and Pads bolt for the door.  Regulus and James haven’t quiet mastered the art of walking quickly in their current state, so they lag behind.

Halfway to the Great Hall, Regulus stumbles, causing James to do the same.  “What the hell?”

Regulus ignores him, digging through his bag frettingly, then looks up at the Gryffindor.  “I’ve left my book, we’ll have to go back.”

That means they’ll most likely miss lunch.  James sighs as if this detour is the most inconvenient thing in the world, but he follows Regulus like a fish upstream.  The crowd is thinning, and James is getting very tired of this silent treatment Regulus is giving him.  Hell, he’d even take an insult.

“What the fuck’s going on with you?” he demands as they round a corner, and Regulus slows, gawking up at the older boy like he’s got antennas.

“Nothing, fuck you,” is Regulus’s response before he marches forward again.

James only allows a moment of silence to relapse.  They reach the Transfiguration classroom and pull open the doors.  It’s empty.  “No, something’s wrong.  Why won’t you talk to me?”

Regulus bends over and pulls out a book that had been carelessly shoved under a desk, shoving it aggressively into his bag.  He turns to James, staring at him with an odd expression.  “Is it possible that I just don’t fucking like you?” he snaps, then storms out of the classroom.

James is tugged along behind him, the hook feeling in his gut pulling.  “That never stopped you before, did it?!”

“Potter, will you just shut up?”  Regulus digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.  Think, idiot! James scolds himself.  On many occasions, Lily and Remus have tried to help him recognize people’s emotions, but he’s just so bad at it.  Fucking people, why do they have to be so complicated?!  Why is Regulus mad at him?  What did he do?

By a miraculous force of nature, James forces his mouth shut for a full minute and a half, until he simply can’t hold it anymore, like a tycoon bursting from the sea.  “Care of Magical Creatures kind of sucked today, y’think?” he rambled, “I wish they’d do muggle animals like dogs and cats.  I want them to bring dogs to the school, wouldn’t that—”

“Can you just shut up?!” Regulus snaps.  His cheeks are red, and a pink flush is creeping under the collar of his uniform.  James’s brow furrows.

“I'm sorry,” he says instinctively.

They don’t talk until they reach the Great Hall, and by the time they pass under the arching wooden doors of the hall, Regulus’s friends are waving them over.

“Come on,” Regulus prompts the older boy.  “We’re sitting over there.”

James is so fucking nervous.

He doesn’t even know why anymore.

When they reach the table, the dark-skinned girl, Dorcas, is smiling broadly, the tips of her long box-braids died lime green.  Mercifully, they ignore him for a moment.  He doesn’t usually get this overwhelmed—he never does.  What is it about today, about Regulus?

Eventually though, halfway through lunch, when Dorcas has migrated to the Gryffindor table to sit with Marls, Barty Crouch Jr. turns to James, who’s busy gazing across the room, staring into Remus’s eyes, having a very intense telepathic conversation.

“So, Potter, what’s your thing?” Barty blurts out, squinting at the Spanish boy.

James’s attention snaps back to the Slytherins, and he’s suddenly very aware of the odd stares he continues to get from further down the table.  “My thing?”  James is an expert on this, and he turns it on in an instant, plastering on a teasing smile.  “Oh!  You must mean Reggie, here!” he jests, throwing a hand onto an unsuspecting Regulus and shaking him.

“Oi!” Regulus shouts, smacking him away, but James’s antics have exactly the effect he was hoping—Barty is cackling, trying to keep a poker face.  It’s not working.  “Barty!” Regulus hisses at his friend, and James is laughing now.  “We don’t like Gryffindors!”

Barty grabs Evan’s shoulder, who looks highly annoyed with the whole situation, still hackling.  “I do, now!”

James grins, feeling some of the anxiety melt away.

* * *

Regulus doesn’t talk to James for the rest of the day, no matter how James tries to break the ice.  Their last three classes are painful, and by dinner, their charm has worn off.  As soon as James is free, he runs toward Gryffindor Tower, desperate for some space to breathe. Sirius looks after him, but Remus’s hand on his friend’s chest keeps him from being followed, though he has no doubt that the werewolf will be up to check on him shortly.

James ignores everyone who tries to stop him—shoves past Mary with a quick, “Sorry!” and nearly bulldozes Marlene, who’s headed to dinner and shouts in indignation after him.  But he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but lock himself in the boy’s shared bathroom and sink to the floor, turning the light off and pressing his hands over his ears, though it’s nearly silent already.

In, out.  In, out.  In, out, he repeats in his head, over and over, until he can breathe a little easier.  He feels his shoulders slowly unknotting, head falling back on the wall and a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

“Prongs?”  Of course, it’s Moons.

“I'm alright,” James says, and it comes out almost quieter than a whisper, but Remus, since the moon is in three nights, hears him perfectly.  “Just overwhelmed.”

“Do you need to talk?” Remus murmurs, and James squeezes his eyes shut, unsuccessfully holding back tears.  Moony hears his choked sob, instantly crouching outside the door, joints crackling and protesting.  “Jamie, are you alright?”

“Yes, I'm just tired and I don’t know why I'm crying and I need to cry for a minute.  Go away?”

Remus has learned by now not to take James’s bluntness to heart, something Sirius still struggles with.  “Ok, Prongs, but can I come back in 30 minutes to check on you?”

“Yes.”

And that’s all Remus requires.  James listens to Moony shuffling to stand up.  His joints always hurt more this time of month, though he never complains about it—claims it doesn’t bother him anymore.  The three other marauders know better, and still pamper him despite his protests.  He hears the click of the dorm door as Remus exits, and the soft padding of Remus’s heavy footfall as he descends the stairs to the common room.  Only then does James move, inching off the floor, tears still trickling down his face for no reason that he knows.

When he gets to bed, he burrows under the covers, fully dressed, only kicking off his shoes before falling into a deep sleep plagued with dark hair and grey eyes and frowning, crying boys and a harsh voice telling him to “fuck off!”