The mark between us
James Potter had never known heartbreak quite like this.
He thought he had—he thought he had felt the sting of disappointment before, had endured the weight of frustration and longing. But nothing, nothing, compared to the way his chest caved in as he stared at the ink-black skull and snake on Regulus’s forearm.
The world around them faded into nothing. The distant hum of the Hogwarts lake, the crisp autumn air, the way the sun cast long shadows across the grass—it all ceased to exist. All James could see was him. The boy he loved. The boy who had sworn he was different.
“Tell me it’s not real.” His voice wavered, betraying the anger that twisted in his gut.
Regulus flinched. He didn’t pull his sleeve back down, didn’t try to hide the evidence that burned itself into his pale skin. His fingers curled into a fist, but his expression remained carefully blank.
“It’s real.”
The words shattered something inside James.
He took a step back, breath coming short, like he had been punched in the ribs. “You—Reg, you promised me.” His voice broke, and he hated himself for it. “You told me you wouldn’t—”
Regulus’s jaw tensed. “I told you a lot of things.”
James let out a humorless laugh, hands shaking at his sides. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Really bloody brilliant, Reg. Is that what we’re doing now? Dismissing everything like it never meant anything?”
Regulus’s gaze flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came. His shoulders squared, defensive. “It’s not that simple, James.”
“Oh, no, it’s not, is it? It’s not simple because you decided to let them brand you like cattle! You—” James exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair. “Merlin, Reg, why?”
Regulus turned away, staring at the lake like it might have answers. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I didn’t have a choice.”
James laughed again, bitter and hollow. “Bullshit.”
Regulus’s head snapped back toward him. “You don’t understand—”
“No, I don’t,” James snapped. “I don’t understand how the person I—” He stopped himself before the words tumbled out, too raw, too painful. He swallowed. “I don’t understand how you could do this.”
Regulus inhaled sharply, something like pain flashing across his face, but it was gone in an instant. He was too good at hiding, too good at burying things deep inside himself. James had spent over a year peeling back those layers, seeing the boy beneath the perfect Black heir. But now, it felt like Regulus had buried himself again, sinking into the shadows James couldn’t reach.
“I didn’t have the luxury of running away, James.” Regulus’s voice was cold, but James could hear the cracks beneath it. “I didn’t have you waiting to take me in, to give me a warm home and a new family. I had them. I had a mother who would rather see me dead than disloyal. A father who would never allow his heir to disgrace the family. I had expectations. A legacy. A future I didn’t get to choose.”
James gritted his teeth. “And this is better? Being a Death Eater? Being his?”
Regulus flinched at the word, and James felt a sick sort of satisfaction. He should flinch. He should hurt.
“You think I wanted this?” Regulus hissed.
“I think you let it happen.”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
Regulus exhaled slowly. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
James’s chest tightened. “Understand what? That you let them sink their claws into you? That you threw yourself into the fire instead of fighting it?” His voice cracked. “That you chose them over me?”
Regulus looked away.
That was all James needed. He took another step back, shaking his head.
“You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim in this,” James spat. “Because you chose this. You let them make you into this.”
Regulus’s expression hardened. “I let them make me into something I had to be.”
James shook his head, stepping back again. The distance between them felt infinite.
“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Regulus’s breath hitched, but he didn’t reach for him. Didn’t try to stop him.
James turned on his heel, walking away.
He didn’t look back.
Sirius was waiting for him in the Gryffindor common room.
James barely made it through the portrait hole before Sirius was in front of him, arms crossed, an expectant look on his face.
“Well?” Sirius demanded. “What did the little snake have to say?”
James stared at him, unblinking, and for the first time in his life, he felt something close to hatred for his best friend.
Sirius’s smirk faltered. “Prongs?”
James clenched his jaw. “He got the Mark.”
Sirius stilled. The air shifted, all the usual arrogance draining from his expression. “He what?”
James exhaled, running a hand over his face. “He got the bloody Mark, Padfoot. It’s real. It’s—he—” His throat closed up, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.
Sirius scoffed. “Well, I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but—”
James moved before he could stop himself.
His fist collided with Sirius’s jaw.
Sirius stumbled back, a shocked expression flashing across his face before his features twisted into something dangerous. “What the fuck, Prongs?”
James was shaking. He could barely see straight, the rage and heartbreak blurring his vision. “Say it again,” he snarled. “Go on. Say it again.”
Sirius rubbed his jaw, eyes flashing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
James let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think this is funny, don’t you? You think it’s some joke? Some pathetic, predictable thing? ‘Oh, Regulus was always going to be just like them’—isn’t that what you always said?”
Sirius’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
James’s voice wavered. “I loved him.”
Sirius exhaled sharply. The anger drained from his face, replaced by something James didn’t want to name.
“I loved him,” James repeated, softer now, but the pain in his voice was sharp enough to cut.
Sirius was silent.
James turned away before he could see the pity in his best friend’s eyes.
He didn’t want pity.
He wanted Regulus back.