fighting the inevitable

James was excitedly dashing around the kitchen, trying to come up with something to feed him but it seemed like everytime he decided on something, he changed his mind halfway through and began rummaging for something else. It was assumed that James would be able to come up with something immediately, being the self-proclaimed chef that he was, but his sudden appearance had clearly pushed him a bit off-kilter.

His arm burned horrifically, a never-ending pain that he could almost forget about until it refreshed with newfound fervour. The pain was so all-consuming that it almost made him want to go straight to Voldemort and allow him to kill him in whatever horrible way he’s concocted just to make the pain stop. The key word was almost because if he had done that, he would miss the way James was, currently, losing his mind.

“What happened to the aubergine?” he asked, leaning against the counter and staring at the forgotten vegetable by the stove, ripe and ready to cook.

James made a displeased noise, “Nobody even likes aubergine.” That was a shame because he quite liked them but he wasn’t about to disagree.

He’d once considered his “last meal” before. Him, Barty, and Pandora were all gathered around a Library table late at night before exams. The library was full of other students as well, all voraciously studying for their OWLs like they should have been, when Pandora had brought up the hypothetical situation.

She’d asked the question in a break she’d taken between scribbling at a piece of parchment and eating sweets and it quickly prompted him and Barty to both drop their quills and begin pondering the question as well, grateful for the excuse to take a break. Evan had already gone to bed at that point as he had responsibly started studying two weeks prior but Regulus now wished he was there for the conversation too.

Barty was silent a long moment before he listed a barrage of desserts and drinks and meals ranging from simple sandwiches all the way to large steaks and salads and caviar. He went on and on and when Pandora brought up that that amount of food was likely to kill him he smiled and said “Exactly! It’s the best way to go.”

He didn’t know what to say though. He remembered having a bit of a tough relationship with food around that time anyways but even still, he didn’t know what exactly the “point” of a final meal was. Realistically anything could be a final meal, no one could tell the future, and even then, food was just food. He assumed anything reasonable and edible would suffice for a final meal.

Now, staring at James who had finally arrived at something, he supposed he would be happy to eat anything so long it was cooked by James’ hand- that was sure to be a fine meal.

James hadn’t yet asked him anything regarding where he’d been or what he’d been doing. He remained suspiciously quiet on the matter and Regulus was not about to push it because he was fine to ignore it altogether as well.

Surely that wasn’t possible in the long run but he’d enjoy the time he had for now.

Sirius hadn’t said anything either which concerned him more than confused him. Sirius was never one to just “let something go” especially after the tirade that had greeted him when he first opened the door to let him in. In the space between his arrival and now, Sirius had gone on and on about him having to be more responsible while he took off his cloak, drank some water, and sat with James for a bit. Then he sort of just…stopped.

Even now, he was quietly stewing in the garden. He was staring out at the treeline, hands folded on top of his stomach, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Anyone else would think he was serene but Regulus saw the two lines furrowed between his brows and the slight tightness to the line of his lip- he was upset.

James, done chopping the vegetables and wiping his hands on a teal coloured cloth, looked over at him and then followed his eyeline outside.

“Fabian died,” he said, quietly.

“What?” he asked, the blunt statement bringing him back to the moment.

He nodded and as he started pulling out spices and adding them to a pot, he said, “He was out on a mission and they came upon a pack of werewolves. They er- they got to him before the Healers could treat him. They saved the family they were attacking but it was too late for him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, not having anything else to say, staring down at the sprawling lines of the marble countertop under his hands.

He just shook his head, “Not your fault. Anyways, I think it’s put Sirius in sort of a funk, I’m not sure.”

He wasn’t liking the turn this conversation was taking, so instead he asked, “Where’s Remus and everybody else?”

“Well, Remus is on some mission, Peter’s at “work,” and the girls are probably at HQ, we’re all over the place really. The schedules are always changing,” he punctuated with a shrug but then he turned around, “Hey, I can try to send a message to Dorcas to see if she’s available, I don’t know if you’ve seen her yet or?” he finished without tacking on an end to that question.

He thought about it for a moment, then thought back to the letters sitting on his desk at home, “No I’m okay, I’ll send her a letter tomorrow though. I just want to focus on you today,” he smiled, coming up behind him and winding his arms around James’ waist.

He used the moment to drop his forehead onto his shoulder and grimace for just a moment, clenching his teeth and grounding himself with James in his arms. He would chop off his arm if it meant the pain would stop but he wasn’t sure that was how the mark worked. Truly, if the mark wasn’t connected to an evil tyrant, he would marvel at it because it really was an ingenious work of magic.

James turned in his arms and kissed him, short and sweet, and Regulus sighed and smiled into it, his lips splitting. James pulled back, his eyes wide and exploring as they darted between his own, “What is it?” he whispered.

“Nothing, you’re just so…happy.” he mused, the lines by his eyes deepening, “it’s quite becoming of you.” 

“Oh it’s becoming of me now is it? You’ve expanded your vocabulary in recent times,” Regulus laughed.

“Yes well, I’ve had a lot of idle time,” he clucked.

They both stilled a bit, realising that they were crossing that line neither of them had really realised they’d drawn- the one that kept them far away from discussing where he had been but just as they’d crossed it, James pulled them both back over it, “Well, we’re done here, it’ll take about another hour or two to cook so what do you say we go for a fly?”

He put a lid on whatever it was he was making and lowered the flame so it stayed on a simmer. He then quickly put a stasis on the other pots and waved his wand so as to throw all the extra scraps in the bin and clean up his mess. Regulus wondered if he really was so self-sufficient, what was it their elf really did in her free time? Kreacher would surely have a fit if he did anything himself.

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to,” he nodded.

He jerked his head towards the garden in turn, “D’you want to ask Sirius? It could be good for him.”

He agreed, pulled on his cloak, and went out, pushing the glass door open slowly and walking outside, shoving his hands in his pockets. It was still cold, the sun hiding behind pockets of clouds, and if he exhaled, he could see the echo of his breath in the air.

“James and I were thinking about going for a fly? Did you want to join?” he asked. There wasn’t another chair nearby so he was forced to sort of hover by his shoulder.

He turned squinted eyes up at him, seeming to be jolted out of some reverie, “Hm? Oh no, I’m okay. It’s too cold out here anyways.” He made to stand up and went back inside without another word.

Okay then, he muttered to no one in particular, aiming for the broomshed and grabbing him and James spare brooms. 

He and James were off in the sky no more than five minutes later. The wind whipping past him and bringing tears to his eyes, the sound of James’ whoops and laughter stolen by the speed with which they were going, and nothing but green foliage under him.

He remembered the first time he ever rode a broom.

He was about six years old, Sirius seven, and he had found an old broom in the shed out in the garden. It was old and clearly broken but to them it looked like a brand new Nimbus, hand delivered to them by the creator himself. Sirius wanted to try it out and had made a bumpy but solid lap around the yard before he deemed it safe and time for Regulus to try as well.

He was hesitant at first, ever the precocious child, and thought it might be dangerous. Sirius expelled his worries and dragged him over, his large hand over his, and helped him onto the broom before he could refuse any further.

He had fun for all of five seconds before he lost control and ran right into the boundary between their garden and their neighbours. Blood spurted from his nose and tears ran down his fat cheeks and Sirius desperately tried to staunch the bleeding and calm him down but it was to no avail.

They were caught and he hadn’t seen Sirius till that evening at dinner. He had dried blood crusting around his nose and all he did was smile and mouth- We're matching now from across the table. He remembered laughing then, not understanding what had really happened until years later.

He’d later joined quidditch his first year at the behest of his parents and Sirius and it was there that he really found his love for flying. He didn’t get to fly much at home but when it was just him and the quidditch field, nothing but clear sky for miles on either end, he’d never felt better. He was doubly grateful that he was a Seeker, able to stay far away from the chaos of the game and focus on just the snitch.

And it certainly had nothing to do with competing against James. Of course not.

He noticed James slow down beside him and he joined him, matching his speed, and he started shuffling around in the pocket of his denim trousers until he pulled out a golden snitch, a beaming grin to match.

“For old time’s sake?” he asked.

“You’re on Potter,” he smirked, cracking his knuckles and leaning low on his broom.

Jame shifted and threw the snitch far away and they both watched it disappear in the distance. James started counting down from five but Regulus was already gone on two.

“Cheater!” he heard James yelp from behind him, already rushing to try to keep up but he didn’t care.

The snitch was already gone and he belatedly realised they should’ve cast some sort of boundary so as to not let the snitch hit some poor woman in the head in Bulgaria tomorrow.

He was flying around erratically- going one way before abruptly going back around, flying up and down so much that his stomach had practically disintegrated, and it was all so dizzying he almost felt drunk. 

“Reg!” James shouted and he slowed down, turning back to look at him.

He was flying towards him pretty fast and Reg scrambled, raising his arms as though that would do something. He slowly started to stand up on his own broom and Regulus was really about to lose his mind now, “James stop!”

“I’m coming!” he teased, fully upright now and looking like he was surfing over an ocean wave.

He was doing just that and right before they crossed, James jumped from his broom onto his own, only his foot slipped on the landing and he dropped before catching himself with his hand, leaving him to dangle off the broom.

“A little help here?” James teased as though it was funny but he was already rapidly descending back towards land,

“That wasn’t even remotely funny James,” he huffed as they made their way back inside, all thoughts of the snitch gone.

“I think it was kind of funny,” he said, nudging his shoulder as he did so.

"You could’ve died,” he said, though he really didn’t think it needed to be explained.

“But I didn't,” he replied matter-of-factly, pointed finger and all.

“Imagine I go through all that just for you to meet your end willingly jumping off your broom,” he murmured incredulously, shaking his head.

“Go through what?” he asked genuinely.

“Nothing, I just meant having to deal with you for so long,” he laughed but even he knew it was a weak cover up. Thankfully though, they were back at the house now and could put an end to that line of questioning.

“So you’re just not going to get the Snitch then?” he asked, wiping his shoes on the outdoor mat before heading back inside.

James just shook his head, “Nah, these usually inanimate after about an hour or two and we end up finding them in some bush.”

When James pulled the back door open and they stepped in, the fragrant aroma of garlic, ginger, and spices wafted over to him and his mouth instantly watered. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate a truly delicious meal for the sake of just enjoying it instead of just needing to scarf something tasteless down so he didn’t keel over. Come to think of it, he doesn't really remember the last time he even ate a full meal, having survived off of potions and adrenaline in recent history.

“D’you want to help Sirius set the table and I can start dishing these up?” James asked, skin flushed and hair windswept, already working towards his task so he nodded and headed to the dining room.

He hesitated for just a breath at the doorway- it was just a flash, but his vision glitched. One moment he was watching Sirius set the first napkin down and the next he saw Burke, dead, at the seat to his right. He was okay he reminded himself. He couldn’t help but imagine it was him lying dead instead of Burke.

It was a bit jarring, to realise where he was now and where he stood in the grand scheme of things. His burning arm was one thing, everything else was another.

He stepped over to Sirius and silently put a hand out, asking for anything, and Sirius just handed him the rest of the napkins, following behind him to place the utensils down. It felt a bit odd to ‘set the table’ when it was just the three of them but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Hello?” he heard from the corridor beyond and he froze.

Even Sirius broke out of his weird daze and caught his eye before escaping to find the source of the noise.

He waited, only hearing murmuring as he chewed on his nail, until Sirius came back into the room, “It’s for you. It’s a firecall from Lestrange.”

Lestrange?

Before he could panic, he clarified, “Pandora Lestrange I mean.”

He nodded, “Huh, weird. I’ll see what she needs.”

He cut towards the receiving room and saw Pandora’s anxious face staring back up at him.

“Reg!” she cried out.

“Dora? What is it?” he shut the door behind him and immediately crouched down to face her. She was clearly in McGonagall’s office and seemingly alone.

“Why are you at the Potters?” she instantly asked, interrogating him off the bat.

“How did you even know I was here?” he rebuked.

“I had a vision,” she hissed, her pale blue eyes bright, her pupils blown so wide there was barely a sliver of colour there like a solar eclipse taking over. Her cheeks were flushed and she had sweat beading along her brow- she looked a bit crazed if he was honest.

“Boring vision I’d say,” he tried to joke but she didn’t laugh,

“Regulus, what are you- what are you doing?” she said with the seriousness of a woman who had seen the depths of hell. She looked shell-shocked, as though she had just come from some sort of battle instead of her dorm room.

“What did you see?” he instead asked again, countering her to redirect her focus, and also needing to be able to come up with an appropriate cover that might help match what she saw.

“I saw a meteor fall and crash into a cliffside. There was a lighthouse, right on the edge of it and it was the first to fall before the entire side collapsed into the ocean. Then- my vision turned black, it was as though I were sleeping until a bright light took over the space and I was brought out of it when it turned blinding,” she replied, her eyes going a bit far away before refocusing on him.

He had to contain the urge to gasp, to withhold the genuine shock that took over him. He had forgotten how powerful Pandora’s gift was sometimes. Ever since she first accessed this power within her, she had let him in on little visions she’s had ranging from Dorcas falling off her broom to Voldemort’s snake, news that he had later received in regards to Nagini killing a shopkeeper in a store in Diagon. However, those were all insignificant, nothing like this. The lighthouse was clearly related to his mental stores, where he kept his Occlumency locked down tight, and the cliffside and ocean regarded the cave he was about to embark to- the rest was still a bit unclear.

He suddenly remembered the time Pandora had passed out in his arms after seeing a vision. He had taken her to St. Mungo’s and it was the same day he met Fleamont for the first time. He still remembered her words exactly-

I saw you and Regulus…you were dead. I swear it. I don’t know where we were, it was some beach but I can’t be sure and your body was there. I couldn’t go to you but you weren’t breathing and I-” she started to cry, “I wanted to help you but I couldn’t…”

She saw him, dead, on a beach. 

All of her visions thus far came into fruition and this was no different.

The physicality of it, the truth of her visions, were a dull comfort to him as he knew he would succeed in his plan. He would die on his own terms in the cave Kreacher described. He would do the right thing.

“Pandora, I don’t understand what that means, I’m sorry. But I’m perfectly fine, I just came to visit James, eat some lunch, and then I’ll be going home. Please don’t worry about me or worry McGonagall, I’m doing well,” he smiled.

She seemed barely relieved, “But that and what you told Barty- you do remember don’t you- what you told him?”

He nodded, “Yes I do and it’s been sorted. Now go back to class, aren’t you supposed to be in Divination?” he asked. He didn’t even know how she managed to convince McGonagall to let her use her floo for this when she usually kept it locked down though he also knew it was hard to reject Pandora when she had her mind set on something.

“There’s nothing Professor Levoe can teach me anyway,” she huffed, then softened, “You would tell me right? If something were to happen? These visions scare me Reg but they’re important, I know that now.”

It hurt to lie but still, he pushed forward, “Of course I would. Talk to you soon Pans,” he finished.

“I love you,” she called out hurriedly.

He ended the call, making it seem as though he were just too quick but he knew it would hurt too much to say it back, knowing that he had just lied to her face, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful to hear it one last time.

__________

“Who was it?” James asked happily when he arrived at the dining table fully set, him and Sirius patiently waiting for him.

“Oh just Pandora, she was calling to check in,” he replied.

“Does she do that often?” Sirius asked.

He nodded, focusing on the food, “Yeah, since I left school, she’s ah- been wondering.”

He looked at the food and instantly knew what it was- aloo keema and chicken makhani. It was the same meal James had made for him once at school when he noticed he wasn’t eating much over meals. He’d made the whole picnic spread for him in the Kitchens and they ate by the Lake, speaking openly to each other in a way more intimate than anything they’d ever physically done at that point.

It was one of the first moments he’d realised he had well and truly fallen for James.

His eyes snapped back to James and he saw him looking back up at him, glee and nostalgia flashing in his eyes, his dimple deepening ever so slightly as he gave him a shy smile as if hoping he’d remember. 

The meal was wonderful, as flavorful and spicy as he remembered and they talked about everything, or rather, James did, while he and Sirius listened.

“I haven’t cooked since my parents passed,” James said once they’d all finished and both he and Sirius rushed to say some words of comfort but he shook his head and with a look of tenderness he just said, “No no, I’m not sad, I’m thankful.”

Regulus thought he was ready for a cat nap after having eaten his body weight in potatoes and chicken but James only stood up, sighing as he patted his belly, “Well, I hate to ruin this, but I forgot I have to go see Kingsley today.”

“About what?” Sirius queried.

“I dunno, I think he might yell at me about the mission from before since I haven’t exactly checked in with them since then and you snitched on me,” he frowned.

Sirius only rolled his eyes and carried their plates over to the kitchen.

James rounded the edge of the table and Regulus went over to meet him halfway, “You’re leaving,” he sighed. He wanted James to stay as long as possible, he couldn’t bear to part from him.

“I’ll be back soon, it shouldn’t take too long,” he reassured him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

He only rolled his eyes to hide his desperation.

“What is it?” James leaned down to whisper and only then did he realise he was clenching his hands around James’ shirtsleeves and he slowly let go, running his hand over them to smooth them over.

“Nothing, go ahead,” he nodded. “Perhaps I ought to give Sirius some time too.”

James agreed, “Maybe that’s why he’s all moody today.” He pressed him with a kiss and was gone, already heading towards the door. “Hey,” he stopped, turning over his shoulder, “Can I take your cloak, I don’t want to go find mine.”

“Sure,” he nodded, though it was likely to be a bit small considering he was much broader than he was. He let it go anyways, knowing James’ room was a trek from the dining room.

After he left, it took him a while to genuinely find Sirius again and it was only through a well cast Hominem Revelio that he found him in the Library. He was sitting in the window sill, staring out a large glass pane window towards the dreary day beyond.

He slowly stepped up towards him, feeling suddenly awkward, and stood by the sill. There was enough space for him to sit but he withheld from making the move until Sirius looked up at him, and slid his eyes over in silent request.

He sat opposite him, Sirius’ feet next to his hips but he kept his legs folded up close to him as though they were some sort of shield towards Sirius’ odd temperament.

“It's nice to see you after so long,” Sirius said, gaze sharp on his.

“You too,” he nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You’ve been pretty quiet though.”

“Really? Because I think you’ve been rather tight-lipped today,” he countered, his hands folded up in his lap and back leaned against the wall. He appeared casual but his tone was too hard to think it was so straight forward.

“You’re mad at me,” he sighed, cutting straight to the point.

“No, I just want to know what you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything?”

His brother sighed like he was being purposefully dense, “Regulus. Do I need to remind you what you’ve done as of late?”

“Sirius I haven’t been doing anything, I just had to take care of something,” he answered.

“I’m not James okay,” he broke out, brows crinkling. He sat up straighter, drawing his head back to really face him now. The light from outside garbled by the warped windows casted odd shadows around his strong features.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not just going to forget everything that happened since you’re back now. I’m not going to forget that you went to Evan of all people, claiming that we’re all in danger, before disappearing for weeks. Now, you’re not even saying anything about it, you’re just walking around like you’re in pain and letting James do the speaking for all of us.” His tone wasn’t angry or accusatory but more defeated. He didn’t seem to be picking a fight either and Regulus was lucky for it because he didn’t have a leg to stand on- Sirius had read him like a book and he only had a chance to divert his attention elsewhere.

“Okay yes, I admit, I was wrong for that. It’s just- stuff with Voldemort. He had an episode and it rattled all of us that were at Bellatrix’s house so I had to go away for a bit, do some things for Bella, but I dealt with what I had to. I wish I could’ve explained more but I really didn’t have the time to. As for not bringing it up, it’s for the same reason I don’t ask you about Order business- I don’t want to focus our relationships on that. If James asked me, sure I’d tell him, but I think he understands that.”

He stayed quiet, his jaw working, until he relented by leaning back against the wall and sighing deeply, his chest rising and falling under the thin cotton of his shirt.

“So you don’t want to talk about it?” he asked finally.

He shook his head in reply.

“It’s only…you’re different,” he said, eyes roving over him.

“James said the same thing,” he huffed.

“Well it’s true, you’re happier I guess, lighter,” Sirius said but he looked confused too as he said it, like he didn’t quite believe the words.

“Gods, you all make it sound like I was a dementor before or something,” he shook his head.

He tapped him lightly with his foot and kissed his teeth, “Not that. You were always just so…dark. Growing up I wondered if it was just the house but then you came to school and you were the same way and I wasn’t sure if that was just who you were or the people you were around. You were so, I dunno, troubled.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that, of the words spilling from Sirius’ lips like some sort of confessional. He perhaps wished it was one, where he was on one side of the chequered wood with Sirius on the other so he didn’t have to face him. Only now, he settled for gazing out the window.

“When you met James you seemed only more so, for a while. Now though, now you seem like you’ve found the solution to whatever seventeen year long problem you’ve been dealing with,” he nodded.

“I have,” he whispered in admission.

“I suppose that’s worth celebrating,” he smiled, finally.

And because he wasn’t going to get the chance again, “You and Remus seem well suited. I’m- I’m glad you found eachother in a way that’s more than friends, I have to admit, I always had a feeling about you two.”

He clenched his jaw, “Yes well, I don’t know how much longer that’ll last.”

“Why?”

“Order business,” he countered with a raised brow.

“Sirius,” he pushed. He needed to know Sirius had Remus, he needed to know he wouldn’t be alone, not after he was gone.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he finished, pulling his legs in before swinging them to the side to stand up. “Come, James should be back soon anyways.”

“What did James mean, when he said you told on him to Shacklebolt?”

He threw his hands up, “Well it’s just that James went on a bit of an adrenaline craze while you were gone, running into danger and whatnot, and I may have told Kingsley so that he’d reign it in a bit but you’re back now so it should be fine.”

“No that’s not fine,” he rushed, standing up, him having to look slightly down to meet Sirius’ gaze to convey the severity of his words.

Sirius just had a question written all over his face so he continued, “Sirius, you have to stop James from doing whatever it is he does. I know he’s hard to say no to or to control but I need you to protect him, no matter what.”

“Well I don’t need to do that now that you’re back,” he shrugged, ready to leave, already turning as he said so.

“Well I won’t always be here,” he broke out into the ringing silence, the hordes of tomes all around them their only audience. He took a deep breath, “I just mean, I might have to do that again, Voldemort business, and I need to know you’ll be looking out for him like I know he looks out for you.”

“Reg, quit it, you know I’ll always look after him, now come on,” he jerked his head, an odd look flashing over his face before he schooled it back into neutrality.

His hand trembled in his pocket as he followed him out.

__________

James came back by the time night had fallen, sufficiently chastised and hands laden with chinese food that they happily ate with Sirius’ records playing in the back of the Lounge. 

Sirius and James were currently discussing the current Quidditch lineup and which teams would make it to the Finals, given that there actually would be Finals and Regulus thought he might have liked to see how that would play out.

He mulled over the idea of an afterlife while he speared another piece of beef with his fork.

Would he be able to see which team made it to the finals, hovering over the area while they played below him? Or would he, as a ghost, have to sit in the stands along with everyone else? Or was he going to see his father and Uncle Alphard sitting across each other playing a game of exploding snaps in a big white room separate from the living world?

Or would it just be nothing but endless black? Would he even have a mind?

He wasn’t sure which version he preferred more.

But when he looked at James and Sirius, he knew he was making the right choice. He knew what he did from now on would lay the foundation for whoever came after him with the power to defeat Voldemort.

It simply wasn’t him and while the idea of failure usually stung him, he had numbly accepted it now- it was what it was.

When they finished with dinner and Sirius bid them a goodnight, he suddenly had the feeling that he was going too soon, that the night was ending too quickly, that the day had just gone by in a flash and he wanted to keep it going lest he waste another moment. He knew this was going to be a potential mistake- going and seeing them only to be upset when the night was over but he was selfish and had to see them both before he left.

When he wrote everyone else’s letters, the words flowed easily, from mind to quill in a smooth torrent, but he hadn’t written anything for James, finding it impossible to find words to describe the enormity of his feelings, why he was doing what he was doing, or what the purpose of it was- it all just sounded futile.

So he had let that go and he only hoped James wouldn’t hate him for it.

James led him into the solarium off the kitchen a little while later and they walked around the bustling rose bushes and proud bonsai trees and trees stock full of apple blossoms. Though it was night, small lights flickered to life around them, illuminating the space like stars, and while James spoke on and on about each plant, Regulus was just staring at him.

He admired his dimple and the faint, barely there, smile lines by his mouth that were sure to deepen with age. He saw the shadow that had developed along his jaw and knew James would definitely try to grow a beard out in his older age like his father. His eyes already crinkled when he laughed, giving him a boyish glee that would certainly never change. James was beautiful and Regulus was blessed to see him at his ‘prime’ but he had the type of beauty that would never lessen, only morph over time.

“Right?” James asked again, looking back at him and he hadn’t even realised he asked a question,

“What? Sorry,” he stammered.

James only laughed and rolled his eyes, “Nothing. Wanna head up?” he asked, locking their fingers together in a bruising hold.

He nodded in reply.

__________

“Why haven’t you asked me yet?” Regulus whispered, his fingers trailing up and down James’ bare arm in a rhythmic pattern, dancing over freckles and scars. It may look to be an idle gesture but Regulus just wanted to remember the feeling of his warm skin under his fingertips, he wanted to imprint as much of James onto him as possible.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he simply replied, his hand resting on his cheek, his pinky stroking over his jaw.

“And that’s okay?” he asked.

He nodded, lips curving up, “I learned how to work with you a long time ago Reg.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m tough work I know.”

“I said I knew how to work with you, not that you are work,” he corrected, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I am as grateful to have you now as I was when we started this whole thing.”

How could he break his heart so easily? James was a cruel monster for loving him so truly and deeply. 

“If McGonagall had never put us together, do you think you ever- that we would ever-?” he finished with a shrug.

“I do,” he instantly replied, not even thinking about it.

“Really?” He didn't believe it.

“I don’t think a love like ours happens by accident,” he smiles, “Or by chance. I don’t know if you believe in fate but this comes pretty damn close to it, mera sitara.”

My star.

“Mon étoile,” he matched him.

French and Urdu. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Black and Potter. 

He couldn’t do it. 

He had to but gods his heart was shattering into a million pieces. He was sure James could hear it if he tried hard enough, but he remained still, his leg pressed between his own, their bodies melting together so smoothly he wasn’t sure where he ended and where James started.

“Tell me a story,” he whispered, a plea.

“Any?” he asked amusedly.

He nodded, needing to hear his voice. He settled his head onto James’ bare chest, his heart beating rhythmically under his ear distantly under the sound of his rumbling voice,

“Well there was one time when I was five that I was out in the forest when I came upon a bird’s nest…”

He shut his eyes as he listened to James’ lilting tones taking him along the storys’ path. He spoke so vividly that Regulus could see it- the blue skies and green trees, the thin twigs that made up the little nest, and the four speckled eggs tucked in the centre. He could hear the birds chirping, the trees humming with life, and he could see James at his side.

When he finished, he opened his eyes again and James was surprised, “I thought you had fallen asleep.”

He couldn’t miss a single second of this time with James- he refused to fall asleep.

“What happened to the eggs?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly, shifting his arm, “I came back a few days later and the eggs were cracked but the birds were gone. They could have hatched and gone elsewhere or they could’ve gotten eaten. I would have liked to know though.”

“I’m sure they were okay,” he nodded.

“I like to think so,” he agreed.

In the quiet of James’ room, Regulus realised this was what he had always been looking for. 

“Can I ask you something?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” James agreed.

“The letters, the ones you always wrote me at school, how did you manage them? I mean I never once saw you write them or slip them into my bag and even when you were on the other side of the castle, I could still somehow find one in my pocket?” he asked the question that had always burned within him.

James laughed, his chest shaking and jolting him, “You know I was always really proud of that. I always wondered if you received my notes after sending them off but when you showed up, I knew.” He shook his head a bit as he calmed down, “I got the parchment from my dad. They use this special paper in the ministry for really urgent notices. Most people use it to speak to their boss on short notice so they’ll write on the paper, tap it to whoever they wanted to send it to, and it would immediately appear before them. When my dad gave me the parchment, I knew I’d have to use it to talk to you.”

It was ingenious and he was glad to finally have an answer to satiate his curiosity. He hadn’t even realised parchment like that existed and wished he had some of his own.

“Why did he give it to you?”

He hummed, “He said it would ‘come in handy.’ My dad liked to say he was very well-behaved in school but my mum said he was a troublemaker like us,” he huffed, “I think he knew I’d need them.”

Fleamont was a bloody genius.

James yawned deeply and Regulus brought his hand up to his face, “Go to sleep love,” he whispered, not wanting to force him to stay awake just to make him feel slightly better.

“I’ll miss you,” James murmured, already nuzzling deeper into the crook of his arm.

“I’ll be with you,” he promised. “I’ll always be with you.”

James made a noise of approval before falling asleep and Regulus just leaned back, keeping his head balanced on his elbow, watching him as he slept. He watched his eyelids twitch with movement before falling still, the even rise and fall of his chest, and the gentle breaths he took in and out lulling him deeper to sleep.

“I love you James, so so much,” he whispered an hour later when he was sure James was fully asleep, a tear escaping his eye.

It was time to go.

__________

He slowly disentangled himself from James, unable to look at him any longer as tears continued to escape his eyes, his body refusing to admit that this was the last time he’d be able to lay his eyes on James or touch him again.

He grabbed his cloak, walked out the front door, breathing in the night-cooled air and relishing in the way it washed over him. When he opened his eyes again, he thought suddenly, "Accio snitch."

All at once, three snitches began whipping towards him and he quickly sidestepped so he wouldn't get pelted in the eye. Smiling, he picked up one and kicked the other two aside, knowing there were probably a dozen more if he went out into the field. He turned to look back at Potter manor and the memories he made there before finally, apparating away.

When he landed at Grimmauld, he went up to his room, sound proofed it, and started shouting. He roared in pain at the unfairness of it all, at the pain that had been tearing at his arm for the past twelve hours, at the traitor who had given him out, and most of all at Voldemort who had so thoroughly ruined his godsdamned life.

He had to let it all out, one final time, and he chose to spend his last few moments here yelling at the four familiar walls of his room. The room he had cried in more than he had ever smiled in. The room he and Sirius used to sleep next to each other in, the room he had studied in, the room he had been locked in dozens of times over. He had always been silent but he wanted the room to face the same pain he had at least once before he was gone.

He hoped the next occupant of this house filled it with some sort of happiness or love. It wouldn’t be him, nor Sirius, nor his parents. It had to go to someone, perhaps one of his cousins, and he hoped they could make it somewhat better than his own family had.

Once he had yelled himself hoarse, he calmed down enough to call Kreacher in despite the late hour.

“Master Regulus is calling Kreacher,” he said once he popped in, still a bit drowsy, “is Master Regulus being okay?”

“Sit with me,” he ordered and while Kreacher never sat down, apparently it wasn’t something house elfs did, he complied, knowing it made him happy to do so. “We need to talk okay?”

“Whatever Master Regulus is needing, Kreacher will do,” he promised, his large eyes boring into his own.

“I’m happy to hear that Kreacher,” he smiled ruefully. “Because I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything Master,” he swore, taking his large hand into both of his smaller ones.

“I need you to take me to the cave Kreacher.”

He watched the elfs face morph into horror, his hand slipping from his, “Kreacher is not- Kreacher is not understanding Master Regulus.”

“Someone has to stop him Kreacher and I can’t do it, but I’ve done the best I can. I need to finish this now okay?”

Kreacher stood up, pulling away from him, tugging at his ears as he stressed, “But Master Regulus will- he will be hurt- Kreacher is not forgetting what happened in the cave. Kreacher will not let Master Regulus hurt himself!”

“You can’t stop me Kreacher,” he said sadly, looking at the elf that had cared for him his entire life, one of the only kind faces he had around him growing up.

He didn’t want to say it, he hated it, but Kreacher continued garbling excuse after excuse, pleading and begging with him to not do it, to not ask this of him. “That is an order Kreacher,” he said seriously, forcing his voice not to crack.

The old elf quieted but tears still filled his overly large eyes as he stared up at him and Regulus bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he tore the skin to keep from breaking down.

“We will be going tomorrow Kreacher,” he whispered before turning away.

Kreacher clearly took that for the dismissal it was because he silently disappeared, leaving him alone once more.

He then grabbed the letters he had left on his desk and went down to their owl who was sleeping soundly in its cage. When he approached, he snapped open a single golden eye up at him. He then tied the parcel of letters to the owls’ leg and ordered him to deliver it to the Post so that they could send out all the letters at once in the morning using different owls, wanting everyone to receive theirs at once when he was already gone.

When he turned to go back upstairs, he saw his mother standing in the doorway of her room, watching him, and he didn’t understand how she was awake despite it being so late in the night, or perhaps it was early now considering the hour.

“What are you planning Regulus?” she asked, voice even, somehow still being able to read him despite the distance that had been growing between them.

“Nothing anymore,” he said honestly because his plan was set in stone, there was nothing more to develop or consider at this point.

“Bellatrix has requested your presence at her home tomorrow,” she informed him.

“I’m sure she has,” he nodded simply.

They stared at each other across the dark corridor for a few long minutes and he, begrudgingly, forced himself to memorise her face- all the harsh lines and angles, the darkness in her eyes and cruelty in the set of her mouth, the face he had stared up at in fear for the last seventeen years. He mourned what could have been.

“When will you learn your lesson?” she murmured, shaking her head, her hands resting on the tie of her black robe.

“What lesson?” he asked, against his better judgement.

“It’s no use fighting the inevitable Regulus, it will do you well to learn that soon.” 

She turned away, shutting and locking her door behind her.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

__________

He woke up a few hours later to a rainy day, the sky completely covered by low hanging grey clouds heavy with the promise of rain. He deemed it rather fitting.

He stood up and looked out the window to his room and saw a few muggles walk past his window under umbrellas, scurrying to whatever job or responsibilities they had planned for the day and he supposed it was time for him to get started on his own plans as well.

He showered and dressed before securing the locket he had made from the jeweller, his note already tucked safely inside the diamond centre.

When he arrived downstairs, he grabbed his same cloak from yesterday and dropped the locket into his pocket at his side and he heard it clink against something but he had no time to investigate.

“Kreacher,” he called out.

“Master Regulus,” he bowed, dread and worry carved into his very being.

“It’s time to go.”