Chapter 12
For Sirius, it was becoming routine, commonplace, even, to wonder what the fuck it meant that he’s waking up next to James every day, and falling asleep beside him every night.
What does this mean? He’d ask himself when he felt arms around him in the night.
What does this mean? He’d ask himself when he felt kisses on the top of his head in the morning.
What does this mean? He’d ask himself when James asked him to read aloud some article of the bike magazines Sirius had taken to obsessing over, head on Sirius’ lap.
He didn’t really want to know, actually, because if it meant something other than what he hoped it meant, it’d be painful. So he tried to ignore the huge question marks that appeared every time that James did something adorable and… feeling-inducing.
Sirius just basked in the feelings instead.
Mostly.
Problem was, Sirius simultaneously had too much time to think about James and no time at all. Marlene and James, Sirius too, if he was honest with himself, weren’t built for staying indoors. They all were feeling the stifling nature of not being allowed out. The only person in the cottage that seemed relatively content with their circumstances was Dorcas, and Sirius was fuming about it. How dare their willing kidnap victim have a better time of it than the unwilling kidnappers? It was provoking, really. She simply passed the time gardening and riling Marlene up and, of course, befriending James.
That was another thing that was incredibly maddening to Sirius.
What was worse, was that she clearly was making an effort for it. James was friendly and likeable always, so Sirius had already been expecting it, actually, but to see her trying to get close to him? To have her rob time away from Sirius to, what, garden? How much talk could there be about plants and fruits? Surely not an entire afternoon’s worth! Definitely not multiple afternoons.
It’s not that Sirius thought that Dorcas might steal James away, or anything. It was the principle of the thing. Plus Sirius was not one to share. Not sweets, not toys, not friends and certainly not… incredibly beautiful, fit, caring, arrogant, perfect princes.
So he did what he seemed to do best. Namely, distract James from whichever activity or enthralling discussion the two of them would have about plants and what sounded like potions? by any means necessary, which led to a great discovery.
Sirius had found out, rather accidentally, by trying different activities with James, that His Royal Highness was, in fact, horrible at board games. Any board game. Be it chess, or gobstones or exploding snap. Even muggle board games such as Cluedo and Pictionary. He was awful at them. He never once won, in fact, he lost horrendously every time, which presented Sirius with plenty of opportunities to tease him.
Truly, he’d never got so much excitement over making someone stammer a response for a full forty seconds over a game of Pictionary.
Even so, staying inside all the time, forced to spend so much of their time together, lovely as it was, changes in their dynamic, short lived as it’d been, were inevitable. Sirius felt that he’d known James for most of his life, actually, not just the few months. It was quite natural that things didn't stay the same all the time.
Obviously, it wasn’t that Sirius minded all that much about the changes. Most of them were rather nice, in fact. Although 'nice' was an understatement, even in the privacy of his own mind.
Even the worrying changes were offset by the pleasant ones.
So what if James had taken to spending time with Marlene or Dorcas without inviting him? At least it was Sirius who got to see him at night, sleepy and soft and beautiful.
So what if James had started stammering and stuttering nervous laughs at Sirius’ advances? At least it was Sirius who saw him and made him blush, and blush, and blush.
So what if James was aggressively flirting with Dorcas and Marlene and not him? At least–.
No. Actually, that one was bollocks. Sirius hated it.
At first, it had been sort of funny, perhaps. But now? Now he couldn’t ignore it.
For the first few days, (the funny part hadn’t lasted more than a few hours,) Sirius had been so, so jealous that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. It was as though a veil of ugly, grey, seething jealousy coated his vision and blurred his thoughts from the real world.
And yet, when he did come to his senses, mostly, he realised that it wasn’t just that he wanted James to flirt with him, but he recalled that earlier in their acquaintance he’d noticed how the Prince flirted his way out of uncomfortable or distressing circumstances. And he was catching it happening again.
Every time that Dorcas got near to speaking about her time with Riddle, or her letters with ‘her friend’. Every time that Marlene mentioned how she’d missed him during that time when he barely sent post to her. Every time that he was asked a question about his past, or anything remotely upsetting.
Wands were tacitly forbidden, too. James hadn’t asked them to do it, and he seemed better than he had at the beginning; not starting all that much when he caught sight of one, but still paling a little and sort of– shutting off, unreachable and unreadable for a few moments. Sirius didn’t really use his wand all that much anyway, he was spending most of his time reading magazines and paying and chatting with him. Marlene, on the other hand, kept hers away because she didn’t want to give Dorcas the chance to have one, or something.
It made sense, thought Sirius. Marlene was very much the type to throw a child into the pool and wait for them to figure out how to swim on their own.
Still, not even that could distract Sirius from just. Noticing James. Seeing him, and, more often than not, hurting for him.
Now that Sirius knew intimately how James' breathing pattern shifted during the night; that he had memorised every single part of his hands' (Merlin, his hands’,) skin; that he knew how soft they were, how hard they could squeeze; that he knew them as he knew his own, so much that, would he want to, he could locate that singular spot in his ring finger with frankly alarming speed, well…
It was nothing. Sirius was just navigating what it meant to have a crush on someone for the first time in his life. Someone who didn’t return his attraction, no less. Or whatever.
But he couldn’t deny or ignore that all the things that made James, well, James, only seemed to deepen that–, er–, crush. And with it, the need to, sort of, protect him.
Sirius knew too much about James now. Sirius knew who he was, now and why he was that way. He knew how painful it was for him to speak about Regulus, and how he put his own pain aside to quiet Sirius’. And although it was selfish of Sirius, it only made James more beautiful in his eyes. More interesting, rather than boring. Just. More.
If anyone else had told Sirius that they’d been friends with Regulus? Sirius would have hated them on principle. Resented them, most likely. As was the case with Dorcas, perhaps.
But not him.
To him, Sirius was grateful. He’d learnt so much about Regulus because of James. He was so, so grateful, really, that resentment simply didn’t have any room to exist inside of Sirius towards him.
Realistically, Sirius knew that feeling so much, and so many different things towards one particular person, couldn’t really be called a crush. It was a horrid minimisation, in fact, to call it a crush. But he dreaded the other words. Feelings could only lead to heartbreak, in his case. He didn’t deserve to have his feelings returned. So he’d call it a crush, until they disappeared completely. As unlikely as that conclusion may have seemed at the moment.
Sirius also learnt how sleep turned James' smooth voice to a rough, sensual rasp, and how it differed when he was about to fall asleep versus when he was just woken up.
Sirius learnt how petulant and childish and absolutely contrarian he could be, pouting and grumpy when he was tired.
"I'm not tired," he'd complain, an adorable frown wrinkling his forehead. "I want to wear pyjamas, is all."
"Sure, Your Royal Highness," Sirius would tease.
"Don’t humour me," he'd pout, then, personifying entitlement, "come to bed. Now." he’d say.
And Sirius would follow. Of course he'd follow. Even though he knew he'd never be able to fall asleep at such hours, barely nighttime, he followed.
And Sirius still didn’t know what it meant. From James’ part, at least. He was all too sure of what it meant for him.
His crush was not subsiding in the least.
He learnt, for example, for the first time in his life, how nice it was to be woken up in the morning.
He still made a show of it, of course. He was Sirius. He hadn’t been seen up before nine at any time in his life. Not as an adult, at least. Most of the detentions he'd got in Hogwarts were exactly for that reason. He hated waking up early, or at all, actually. He preferred not sleeping at all, rather than go through the motions of waking up.
That is, until one James Potter started rousing him from bed.
As it seemed to happen always, the Prince had actually managed to turn around Sirius' entire opinion on something, again. He never moulded into what Sirius knew he liked, yet Sirius was entranced anyway.
To wake up to soft nudgings and sweet voices was something else, in Sirius’ opinion. He would have started doing it way earlier if he’d had someone like James by his side before.
And still. And still. And still.
Other things couldn’t be ignored either.
Practically nothing about James could be ignored by Sirius for too long, it seemed.
James was a very contradicting person, is all.
One moment, they were sleeping together, (only sleeping. Literally.) and the next it felt as though he were pulling away from Sirius and towards Marlene and Dorcas.
One moment, they were sharing a cuddle in the living room, joking and chatting, Sirius chatting James up a little, and the next he was stammering and blushing and excusing himself.
The absolute worst was when they spoke about Regulus, always in hushed tones, and Sirius got sad, and James simply… hid away his feelings. Comforted Sirius and ignored his own pain. Ignored it so, so thoroughly that even Sirius had trouble finding cracks in his sympathetic expression.
Of course, he’d tried to tell him that it was alright for him to feel bad too. It was alright to feel sad, and hurt, and to miss Regulus. Sirius had lost a brother, yes, but James had lost a friend. It wasn’t disrespectful to show his own pain. But Sirius was a selfish creature. So he soaked in the reassurance that was given to him, and he gave nothing in return.
He never claimed to be a better man. He knew he didn’t deserve James, but he’d take his friendship and bask in it, roll in it, wrap it around himself, as much as he could. It couldn’t be long until James realised that Sirius wasn’t worth it.
“Si? Are you, er, with me?”
Sirius jumped, realising that he’d been lost in thought for a little too long, eyes fixed on James.
“Of course,” he tried to laugh it off. “You’re just really bad at chess, it distracted me.”
“Sirius!” James whined, pouting, “don’t be mean to meee.”
Sirius wanted to bite that pout out of his face immediately. How? How could someone be so–, so–.
Well, so yummy, actually.
“If you keep making a moue like that, you’ll leave me no choice but to kiss it off of you, love,” Sirius teased, and only very nearly stopped himself from squealing when he got a deep, red blush in response. “It’s your move. I wouldn’t recommend that one, though. Nor that one. Nor that one. Actually,” Sirius took pity on him, “how about we cook dinner, yes?”
“But I might wiiiin.”
With a pitying look, Sirius said, “yes darling. You could. Dinner?” and extended his hand.
“Fine,” he took it. “But you’re not allowed near the stove. Nor any sharp objects," he seemed to think a bit, ponder what he'd said, and Sirius knew what words were coming next. He'd been saying them every day ever since the first time he made the ratatouille, and they never failed to leave Sirius giddy. "In fact, I'd like for you, dearest Sirius, to sit on the worktop and look pretty."
Lily and Remus visited from time to time, but they seemed more and more discouraged with each visit. Neither had got very far on their inquiries about Riddle at the Ministry. It seemed that he was untraceable, which should have been impossible as someone with such high connections in such high places. Pureblood families weren’t known for dealing with unknown people. Of course, most of the known things about them were so called ‘good deeds’, but it was uncommon that the person were absolutely invisible.
Well, near invisible. They had found a Riddle in the archives, but the file had been clean, clean, clean. Riddle wasn’t a pureblood name, which was weird in itself, given the fact that the Black family had authorised him to teach Regulus, but it was also weird in that there were no records of him working… anywhere, really. Only a rejection letter to an application to work in the Department of Mysteries.
There was the added complication that Dorcas hadn’t really volunteered much in the way of investigation starters. She hadn’t even mentioned Regulus’ name. Of course, neither James nor Sirius had volunteered that either, so they couldn’t very well confront her about it. Not with Marlene present.
Sirius didn’t want to discuss his brother with anyone but James, but he was realising that it may be the only thing left to do, that might help a little.
He wasn’t looking forward to that particular little chat. He really, really hoped that Remus and Lily could find something without it.
“... achieve, here. You’ll never get her to–,” Remus was saying one late afternoon.
“What are we talking about?” Sirius interrupted, jumping from behind the sofa and landing half on top of Marlene. “Merlin’s balls, what is that?”
“You really should look where you put your bum, mate,” she chuckled. “It was my angry doll,” she explained.
“Ooh, I miss angry dolls,” Sirius exclaimed. “Mine was left in pieces when I left Hogwarts. I left half of it to Minnie, so she knew I appreciated it.”
“I swear you need professional help,” Remus muttered.
“This is my seventh one since I left Hogwarts,” she commented. “What did you do with the other half?”
“I sent it to Slughorn with a vague threat,” Sirius answered nonchalantly.
“Professional. Help.”
“So, what’s got you sticking needles into unsuspecting ragdolls, dearest Mckinnon?” Sirius asked, ignoring Remus.
“She’s terrible at relationships,” Remus replied for her.
“Coming from our resident aromantic,” Marlene quipped. “And it’s not a relationship. Not even close. She just bugs the fuck out of me.”
“Who?” Sirius asked, but the other two ignored him.
“Maybe if you tried–,”
“Nothing to try. No idea why you think there’s anything–,”
“Who?” Sirius tried again.
“Because you’re refusing to listen to her—”
“Who?”
“Because I don’t trust her!”
“—for something she did when she was a child!”
“Oh. Dorcas,” concluded Sirius to himself.
“Not you, too!” Marlene complained.
“I’m just saying. ‘I don’t trust her’ has been basically all you’ve said the last… I don’t even know how long. Since we came here,” Sirius defended himself.
“Oh don’t give me that,” she said disdainfully. “All you’ve talked about since we came here is about my best friend, whom I have not given you permission to pine after, by the way.”
“I don’t pine!” Sirius protested, face feeling too hot all of a sudden.
“You two could learn a thing or two from listening to your own feelings,” Remus cut in.
“There’s no feelings!” Sirius and Marlene lied.
“Sure, sure. And that’s why you both are constantly with no one in particular,” he snarked.
Before they could protest again, however, a golden bell started making noise in the corridor, alternating from cheery ringing sounds to cheery announcements of ‘dinner is ready filthy scoundrels!’ in a high, singsong-y voice.
“Might as well,” Remus sighed. “I couldn’t get through your thick skulls if I tried for a thousand lifetimes.”
Marlene and Sirius pushed each other all the way to the kitchen, where Dorcas and Lily were setting the table, and where James was finishing the meal.
All three of them seemed to have been talking until then, but they faced the other three with very different expressions.
Lily faced Remus with a resigned look. Dorcas faced Marlene with big, big eyes.
And James?
He faced Sirius with a twinkle in his eyes, actually, which made Sirius feel warm, warm, warm as the oven behind the beautiful prince.
The meal devolved into chaos rather quickly, in Sirius’ opinion.
He sat next to James and spent most of it trying to concentrate on the food in his plate, rather than on how James’ forearm kept brushing his, or how James’ ankle nudged his every time he wanted to call his attention.
As if he didn’t have Sirius’ attention ninety-eight per cent of the time.
The worst part was that he seemed unaffected by their touches. Couldn’t he feel, like Sirius, how their skin tingled with heat at every point they touched? Didn’t he feel it, as Sirius did? The desire to get everyone out of there and simply jump him? Eat him as one would the delicious meal in front of them? The desire to sink his teeth in skin and claim, claim, claim?
Was that only Sirius who felt it?
James had called him pretty a million times by now. Sirius knew he was attractive. So why? Didn’t he feel attracted to him in the least?
Sirius shook himself. Not the time for such depressing ponderings. The dinner table was turning into another argument at the moment.
“They’re fighting again,” James explained in a low voice. Had he noticed that Sirius had been lost in thought again? Sirius tried not to let it get to his head. Nor his heart.
“Thanks,” he replied, and tuned into the conversation. James didn’t answer, but he did press his ankle a little harder on Sirius’.
“I don’t trust her,” Marlene was saying.
“I’m right here,” Dorcas frowned.
“We know, Marlene,” said Remus patiently, ignoring Dorcas.
“It’s worth examining, though,” Lily shrugged.
“I can take some veritaserum,” Dorcas offered, rolling her eyes. “Riddle was studying some shite on ancestral magic or something. He had, er, a lot of notes on the Prince. And the Potter family.” At this, her eyes drifted to Sirius for a second, a troubled expression on her face. “And some other families as well.”
“That tells us nothing,” Lily complained. We’ve been researching but there’s too much information about that at the Ministry. Everywhere, actually. Flourish and Blotts has an entire section on ancestral magic.”
“We need something to narrow the search,” Remus said.
“I don’t know!” Dorcas protested. “We do know he wanted that cloak!”
Everyone but her exchanged a look. Sirius wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea to share their own information with someone who had, in their own words, worked with Riddle and had admitted to being a spy.
James’ brows furrowed, “I keep telling you, I’ve got no such thing. The only cloak I own is one Marlsly bought me for that Hogsmeade trip.”
“Look, I know very little. About the cloak, about some of his—” now her eyes flitted towards James for a second, “— methods, and that he got close to my friend, precisely because of his lineage. His family is–,”
“We know your friend was Regulus,” Sirius interrupted her with a curt, annoyed voice. They were getting nowhere here. “Why you felt the need to conceal that piece of information is astonishing to me.”
He was angry. He knew that. But why had she been so cagey about that part when she talked to them before? Why hadn’t she used the knowledge that she was speaking of his brother when she was trying to convince them to trust her? And she’d known that James was his friend, so why had she chosen to–, make it clear for him and not for Sirius?
“Who’s Regulus?” asked Lily, at the same time as Remus said, “Hold on, Regulus, Regulus?”
Sirius felt discomfort creeping up his spine, but still he answered, “my brother.”
Lily’s expression of dawning realisation was so pronounced that it might have been comical, had the situation been anything other than painful and vexing.
Sirius faced Dorcas, daring her to explain. He didn’t miss the added pressure of James’ ankle, nor the hand that reached for his under the table and squeezed in sympathy. He didn’t know what his features expressed, but it must have been something, because Dorcas squirmed a little before speaking up again, defensive.
“What would you have done, if I came here and told you that I was investigating your brother’s disappeara–,”
“Death,” Sirius cut her off. “Regulus’ death.”
He felt James’ flinch at his words, but while he did find it in himself to feel bad about it, he couldn’t find it in himself to back down.
“Disappearance,” Dorcas argued.
“How can you ask us to trust you if you don’t offer all the information?” James asked, rather quietly.
"It's complicated," she said. "I just knew Regulus had a brother, and that they didn't speak. I guessed it was Sirius only because we went to school together," she explained to the Prince. Turning to Sirius she said, "but how was I to know that you didn't hate him?"
"He was my brother," Sirius asserted.
"Barely," she muttered.
Perhaps sensing that Sirius' tense body didn't bode well for her, or for anyone in the room, James interjected, moving Sirius’ hand, which he had already been holding, to his lap. And oh, how his touch burnt through his fury.
"I think it might be best," he said, "if you told us everything."
Sighing deeply, as if this was an inconvenient request, Dorcas began her story once more.
Again, she explained how she'd met Regulus, how they'd corresponded for years, and met rarely. Then she explained that she knew about the Prince, and about Riddle, but only through snippets in Regulus' post. Then, the painful part. For Sirius, at least.
How Regulus had seemed frantic the last time she saw him. How he hadn't been himself. How he hadn't made any sense.
It was horrible to hear that his little brother had been terribly distressed around the time of his death. It was as if the last layer of hope that Sirius had for him, that he'd been, at least, content with his lot, was stripped away. He didn't want to listen to anything more, but he pushed through. Even horrible pieces of information about Regulus were pieces of information about Regulus.
As she spoke, Sirius felt the full force of James’ stories about his brother. He wasn’t sure that he could have endured it if all he knew about Regulus was the parts of his life that Dorcas was relating. This way, at least, he had another’s words to cushion the blow. And what a someone, he thought. What a someone’s words. The beautiful Prince’s.
As it was, even through the pain, he could feel something else. Gratitude, and comfort, and hopeless, hopeless…
In any case. Sirius felt indebted to James, but at the same time, he knew that he could never repay him. And he knew that the Prince was quite alright with that.
Dorcas continued. Regulus had left her with a cryptic task, or rather a name, then disappeared only days later.
The name, of course, had been Riddle's.
So she did what any self respecting Slytherin would do, and tracked the sociopath down, offered to work for him in search of information.
And she'd gained it. Some of it, at least.
She’d gathered at least enough to know that Riddle was obsessed with blood purity and Noble families and magical lineages; that he had attended Hogwarts and been a Slytherin; that the investigation on the Potter family line had been, though fruitful, not fruitful enough, (at this, the look that she threw on James’ direction made Sirius’ skin crawl. It was pity, a sort of grimace. She did say that she knew what methods Riddle had used to ‘study’ the Prince); that the Black family and him were on good terms, especially with a cousin of Regulus’, (Sirius wondered whom it might be. Narcissa, maybe? She was one of the few people in that family that had a semblance of what some might call ‘people skills’. Although, Bella was the one unhinged enough to worship someone as crazy as Riddle); and that he had taken to reading an old copy of a book, she didn’t know which book, with alarming regularity.
“Do you think–,” Remus began.
“The story?” Lily finished for him. “Yeah.”
Remus addressed Dorcas, “what did the book look like?”
“I’m–, not sure. It was–,”
“Old, brown, grey lettering on the cover?” To everyone’s surprise, it had been James who’d spoken. “A greyish, dirty bookmark attached to it?” he insisted.
“I–, yeah, exactly. The lettering was somewhat erased, though. With time, I suppose.”
James had blanched quite dramatically in seconds. Sirius feared he might faint, but when he spoke again it was in an unwavering voice, “the Tales of something, yes?”
Stunned, Dorcas replied, “yes, exactly. How do you–?”
“I had a dream. A nightmare. Something. He had that book in his hands.”
Now it was Sirius’ turn to squeeze James’ hand.
“Beedle the Bard,” he muttered.
“Definitely,” Marlene said, speaking for the first time in a while. She hadn’t stopped roing her eyes at every sentence that Dorcas spoke.
“The Tale of Three Brothers?” Lily asked, Sirius nodded.
“Hence the quest for the cloak of invisibility,” Remus noted.
Sirius noticed that James was getting more and more distracted, lost in his own thoughts, so he did the only thing he could think of.
He’d known that the Prince was quite physical, always offering friendship and comfort through touch. Sirius wasn’t very good at comfort, but he could try this for him.
He pushed James away from the table, making space, plopped himself down on the floor in front of his chair, between his knees, reached behind his head for James’ hands, and placed them on his head.
Almost immediately, he felt fingers carding through his hair, gentle as a soft breeze, and he found himself melting into it more than he could have thought possible, given the situation. Raising his head a little, to see James’ face, he noticed he looked significantly more alert, less pale. Mission accomplished, he let himself relax as well.
Sirius felt so relaxed, in fact, that he didn’t notice the silence in the room until Marlene spoke his name.
“Sirius,” she said, “you–, your hair?” she sounded dumbfounded, but she wasn’t the only one looking at him. Lily seemed struck, Remus had a look of amused disbelief in his face.
Even Dorcas was staring, as though she had any right to act as if she knew him.
Sirius couldn’t, much as he tried, pretend that he didn’t know what them staring was about. He felt heat creep up his face and intensify in the apple of his cheeks.
But he was Sirius Black. And he had no one to answer to but himself. Sometimes not even that.
So he made a gesture for them to continue, and sat in a, what he hoped was, nonchalant manner, trying to focus on the conversation, but getting hopelessly distracted by the fact that it was James' fingers running through his hair, caressing his scalp.
He feared he might melt completely, only a puddle left on the floor.
He feared he wouldn't mind it if he did.
"Hm, er, well," Remus floundered, trying to recentre the conversation, "he, er–,"
"Riddle might be looking for the invisibility cloak from the story," Lily explained, throwing Marlene an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Marls, but this may be the only way to–,"
"Whatever," Marlene grumbled. "Just tell her."
So she did. She explained to Dorcas how they'd arrived at the conclusion about the Tale of Three Brothers, and how, now, it seemed as though it had been confirmed. Sirius barely listened to her. He knew this already. He chose to revel in the way that James' fingers played with his hair. Without thinking about it, Sirius pressed his face to James' leg and sort of–, kissed his knee? Merlin that was embarrassing. He was lucky that everyone's attention was on Dorcas, at the moment. He was sure that James had noticed, however, fingers stopping their lovely movements for a second too long to be a coincidence.
"I think," Dorcas started slowly, as if preparing herself, "that Riddle might want something from the Black family. And I think," she paused for a second, breathed in deeply and faced Sirius, an unreadable expression on her face, "the way he might try to gain their favour, more than he already has, is if by some miracle he returned the last Black Heir to his rightful place."
Sirius' blood ran cold.
The last Black Heir was Regulus, of course. But with Regulus dead it meant…
It meant…
It meant Sirius.
"Bullshit!" Marlene exclaimed. "How the fuck did you arrive to that conclusion?! She's trying to scare you, Sirius, don't let her."
"What would I have to gain by telling you this!" Dorcas screamed, making everyone jump. In all of this, she had never, not once, raised her voice. "I've been telling you that that's why you need to hide, not go and meet with him!"
"You want Sirius to hide away so that he won't interfere with whatever plans you have for James!" Marlene matched her volume.
"I'm not really working with him!" Dorcas emphasised. "I'M TRYING TO SAVE REGULUS!"
What?
What had she said?
Sirius felt as though the floor had given way and sent him falling down, down, down to the pit of the world.
Save Regulus. Save Regulus. Save Regulus.
What the fuck?
In a brief moment of clarity, in the middle of his world falling to pieces around him (again), Sirius felt James' fingers clench, then the absence of them, leaving Sirius' scalp feeling cold. And not only his scalp. His heart, too. But that was probably not James' fault.
He thought he could tell the voices of Lily and Remus, maybe asking something, but he couldn’t concentrate on their words.
Save Regulus. Save Regulus.
Save Regulus?
What the fuck? Sirius thought.
"What the fuck?" James snarled.
Dorcas' posture was suddenly rigid. Her eyes were big, and scared.
"Regulus is dead," Sirius said once more. He wished he could say that his voice hadn't trembled. He truly wished Dorcas would stop making him repeat that statement.
"I'm not so sure about that," she answered in a tiny, shaking voice. “And if I happen to be right, for Riddle having Sirius would mean that he could–, return the Heir to the House of Black, and not have to cut his studies on Black blood sho–,”
"Shut the fuck up," Marlene said darkly, her own voice, for once, devoid of emotion. It was eerie. Dorcas closed her mouth.
"He's alive?" James muttered brokenly.
Sirius was stuck to the floor. He didn’t realise he'd stood up until he felt how weak his knees were suddenly.
Marlene turned to look at James, then at Sirius. Whatever she saw in them must have been quite bad, for as quick as a flash, she threw herself at Dorcas, pushing her wand to her neck she said, "how dare you?" her wand was pressing so hard on Dorcas' throat that her whole arm was trembling, "How dare you give them hope? How dare you be so heartless?"
"Marlene!" Remus and Lily jumped from their seats and grabbed one arm of Marlene's each.
"Thanks," Dorcas croaked, but this was too much for Sirius, who would have gladly left Marlene to do whatever she wanted with her.
He took his wand out and petrified her.
He didn't dare face James.
He was sure that, had James not been there, he would have thrown something worse at her.
Marlene shrugged Remus and Lily off, breathing hard.
“James, Sirius, she’s lying,” she said, trying to calm herself down.
“It really didn’t seem like she was,” Lily argued.
“What if he’s alive?” Sirius said, as if this was an outrageous idea, but his soul was screaming, begging for it to be true. James grabbed Sirius’ hand, and Sirius was powerless against the need to look at him.
“What if he’s alive?” James repeated, eyes red, face grey.
“She’s playing with your minds,” Marlene cried.
“But what if she’s not?” Remus interjected.
“What would she have to gain?” Lily reasoned.
Marlene didn’t seem to have an answer.
Sirius didn’t have an answer.
Nobody, apparently, had an answer.
What if Regulus was alive?