Regulus and James have met in their usual haunt, the room of requirement. James looks flushed and pretty, red from quidditch practice. James walks to him, a grin warming his face. With all that happiness, Regulus cannot contain the words wrestling to get free, so they fall out all at once, without caution, thought, or grace.
“James I’m sorry,” he says, he winces at the quickly receding smile on James's face, not only the ache on his forearm.
He looks confused, the most heartbreaking furrow in his brow, something in him registering the severity of the sudden spill of emotion.
“I’m so sorry, James I'm so sorry.” Annoyingly, tears are pooling in Regulus’ eyes, and he can tell James sees them. He had hoped he could restrain the crying for the beginning at least. He thought they might have the kindness to spare him this final aide.
“Reggie, I'm confused. What’s wrong?” There's concern in every crease of his face and Regulus' heart breaks a little more with the look of pleading sympathy and deathly anxiety on James’ face.
At that horrendous little look, something loosens in Regulus, something breaks, floods. A thread snapped, a dam crumbled. Without explanation, without context, it rushes out of him.
“I didn’t even mean to, but I did it, James, I did it. I’m so sorry James. I'm so sorry. They were all there, she was there and Bella was screaming and it hurt so much and—and he walked in and I just said yes.”
There are tears streaming down Regulus’ face now, a mess of snot and salt and remorse and Regulus can't quite see, but James seems teary and scared.
Slowly, quietly, almost timidly, James whispers “what did you do?”
“James…” Regulus whispers back.
“What did you do?” he says more forcefully now, still with a horrible look of pity.
Regulus grips the sleeve of his sweater with trembling hands, baring his underarm with labored pull. There in plain black ink is a horrible skull and snake, emblazoned over rows of little white scars. His whole body shudders once with a knowing sob.
“James.” He practically retches up the name, as it fades into the other sounds of his anguish.
Tears are carving their sticky paths down James’ face, as he just nods, reassured of what the better parts of him had tried so desperately to deny. “I think I knew that was coming”
Oh
Oh
That just breaks Regulus, he curls in on himself and reaches blindly for James, desperate to touch him one more time, to have one more memory of his skin, his hair, the cool metal of his glasses. James backs away.
“Please” Regulus croaks, a barely there whimper.
“No.” his mouth twists into something in between anger and despair. “No Regulus. You did this. You did this. You ruined us! You could have come with me, but you were too scared and now we’re here. With that fucking thing on your arm. You know this is the end right? You know this has to be the end?”
“I know”
“Fuck you Regulus”
“James I-”
“No.”
Regulus recedes back into himself, crying as fervently as ever.
“This is going to break Sirius, you know?
“James-”
“This is going to break us both. Your shitty decisions.”
Regulus has somehow ended up on the floor, shaking silently, eyes blurred and stinging.
“Goodbye Regulus” the door swings open, then back again. Regulus looks up, but James has already rounded the corner.
The door clicks shut, only thin wood, yet an insurmountable canyon separating him and Regulus. James makes it to an alcove around a corner before he falls to the ground, sobs racking his chest. All the dubious feelings of the weeks prior manifesting in one horrible moment, all the premonitions he ignored so stubbornly screaming at him, how could he be so stupid? James isn’t sure if he’s talking about Regulus or himself
He sits there for a few minutes. Silent tears are streaming down his face, his neck, when Sirius finds him, the parchment of the map clutched in his hands. “Fuck. What happened?” Sirius instinctively slides down to sit across from James.
“Reg. He did it. He finally did it.” James says solemnly, with a sort of finality.
Sirius frowns “What?”
“he’s gone and done it. He’s ruined it”
“James, you have to explain” Sirius has an increasingly worried expression, confusion visible in his eyes.
“Regulus got the mark Sirius, he’s a death eater.”
Sirius’ face falls. “No, no, he wouldn't, we're going to get him out, he knows that, he knows.”
“Sirius I saw it”
And now Sirius is crying too, and he practically crawls over James’ legs to slump against the wall.
Gryffindor’s boys sit there for a long time, staring at an invisible point in the distance, silent yet horrible tears carving canyons down their cheeks. James isn’t sure if they sit there for minutes, hours, days. At some point, Remus walks by, and turns, startled to look at them.
James vaguely remembers being pulled to his feet, and ushered across the castle, supported by a slightly more steady Sirius. He thinks maybe he was still crying, the images in his memory are blurred over. He remembers curling up in his bed, curtains drawn shut, with Sirius occupying the same position in the bed next to him.
He remembers skipping classes, and not eating. He’s not sure if he ever stopped crying, every wavy memory was grayed and hazy, barely there, buried in mounds of pain. He remembers the wave of solemn, nerve-frying understanding when he first finally dragged himself to the great hall, only to find Regulus not sitting at the Slytherin table, and when he found Regulus missing from that day's classes, and the next and the next. He remembers the worried creases in Crouch and Rosier’s faces.
He remembers Sirius mirroring him, and them existing as ghostly twins, broken by grief so alike and so different. Sirius mourning a past he did have, James mourning a future he could have had, both mourning a loss. He remembers horrible minutes that occupied his mind like cumbersome months, minutes racked by gasping sobs, minutes wishing for something that did not exist. Wishing he could go numb, wishing he could forget, begging for the peace of sleep that managed to elude him every night. He remembers staring, wide-eyed out the window at a single star winking in the black. He remembers noticing that the north star seemed dimmer, as did the heart of the lion.
Through it all, he was cursed, because he could not remember a single moment where he did not care.