Losing Arrangements

James feels like everything in the world had been drained of all its light. His breath felt hollow, like smoke pouring out of the pit of a gun after the bullet was shot, his tears the only echo of the harsh events that led him to this moment. All the choices he, himself made were the finger pulling the trigger. The trigger that had already been taught and ready to strike after the first walk towards the oak tree.

Maybe something deep within James knew that there was no going back after noticing that little black notebook in the Slytherin’s hands. Maybe his head also knew, that they were doomed from the start. There was no army shooting from all sides. Just a stupid boy who thought that his decisions might not catch up with him. James had spent so many nights holding Regulus in his embrace, trying to protect him from the cold air and everything that could harm the boy he loved, like a soldier at war, protecting his mother and sister, and lover. Only for neither of them to think about the fact that the same warm hands that provided shelter could end up collapsing in on themselves, trapping the victim within. Safe arms turned into knives. Digging into his love’s sides.

Of course, a part of James, foolish as it may be, had dared to hope when their fingers were tangled under the bathroom stall. Truly foolish. James knew better. He should’ve done better.

But he didn’t. And now there’s the pastor calling the soldier home after pulling the trigger.

Sirius had been avoiding James all morning. And he knew it was deserved and he should care. He should care, because Sirius is his best friend, a brother he never really had, and something ugly in him is festering and gnawing, repeating over and over that all of this is his mate’s fault. Regulus would have never found out if Sirius hadn’t decided to be all righteous all of a sudden.

Every other part of James knows the only person he could blame for any of this was the soldier. The one who pulled the trigger. That soldier was James.

“Get out! We’re leaving in an hour. I need to get my stuff!” Sirius was banging on the wooden door, a cold edge to his voice, because, yes, it was what James deserved.

Admittedly, Sirius had every right to be annoyed because James had locked himself in the bathroom the minute Remus was able to pull him into the dorm and he hadn’t come out since. It has been hours. And still, he doesn’t want to come out and face the world. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready, really. But no one asked the soldier if he was ready to repent.

The door opens as James doesn’t even dare to look up and meet Sirius’ gaze, too scared of the disgust and fury he guesses his gaze would be met with. He hates it when Sirius is mad at him. But this time, this time Padfoot’s anger is nothing compared to the utter wrath that James feels for himself. It’s disgusting and horrifying, and completely justified, James thinks.

“Sorry.” James mumbles, as quiet as a mouse, as he moves silently towards his bed, trying and hoping that the floor might open up and swallow him whole. It never does.

He can feel Sirius’ eyes locked onto his back and James guesses that if Sirius was granted a spear or any kind of weapon for that matter, he would be dead on sight. Maybe he’d thank him.

“Stop sulking. I don’t want Effie and Monty to worry.”

At the mention of his parents, James releases a strange forced noise and his eyes immediately glaze over with tears. Oh, how he wants his mum. Effie, who would know just what to say and oh. Oh, Monty. His dad would hug him and not let go until all the tears were cried and felt. And James was sure, that at this point that would be forever. He has been crying ever since he left the Great hall. Nothing in him is giving an indication of it stopping any time soon.

“Sorry” James grumbles again and truly, he’s about to start bawling again. It’s not fair. And it’s his fault.

“Oh come off it! The act is over James! It’s over! You can stop acting like you actually care now!” Sirius was definitely looking for a fight and James couldn’t blame him. Not one part of him wanted to shy away from it. He deserved it. All of it. He needs to feel it.

“But I do care, Pads. I always have.” James whispers and looks up to meet the cold stare of his best friend. A dangerous glint in his eyes, showing that he could pounce at any moment. It’s usually reserved for those who try and hurt James. And James has never, ever in his life, been at the receiving end of it. Until now. And it’s absolutely horrifying.

Sirius shakes his head as a huff of incredulous laughter escapes his throat “Ha!” It’s happening. This fight is definitely happening. “You really are just something else, aren’t you? You just – James you truly think that I’m going to believe that any of this is hurting you!?” And Oh. James forgot how cruel a Black could be when angry. When those they love are threatened.

“I’m sorry Sirius. I really love him.” That was all James could repeat because that’s all there is to it. He is sorry and he loves Regulus with his whole being. And both hurt.

Suddenly Sirius moves forward, taking one, two, three steps, that dangerous flare lighting up his whole body. And if James didn’t know him, he’d say Sirius looked like a man getting ready to murder. Cold-blooded murderer. “Oh, really James? Is that so?” His face was screwed up in a twisted imitation of a smile. Wrong. Awful. Frightening. “Well if that’s the case… then I guess worse for you. Because that means that you screwed it all up. Because that means that stupid fucking bet -  That stupid goddamn bet was even worse than I imagined! Is that so James?! Because if yes, then I don’t need to kill you! Regulus will do that himself!”

Sirius was yelling now and James, unlike most, wanted to hear more. He was punishing himself. Taking stone after stone and memorizing each hit, watching every bruise form. He craved it.

“You know? I never thought you, James – out of all – all people James, you would be the one I have to kill! You know what?! I still don’t want to! Because you are my best friend Prongs! And you hurt my brother! My little brother James! The one-“ James loves this. He inches closer, like a lion nearing his prey. “The one that had enough problems already! Did you ever stop to think about him?! Huh?! Or were you just that selfish that you couldn’t see it would hurt him?! Are you?! Huh?! Are you, James?! Answer me, you fucking moron!” Sirius needs to take one more step to close the distance between them and push both of his palms to James’ chest, hard. James stumbles back as his back hits the bedpost behind him. Yes, he thought. Yes, Sirius. I’m selfish. I’m so fucking selfish. Hit me. Please, Merlin, hit me.

And Sirius does. He swings his fist and before James can catch sight of it, it is hitting him square in the jaw, his face turning to the side, because, shit, that hurt. More, he thought. I need more. I deserve more.

And Sirius gives him more. Because even in rage, they breathe like one. They know what the other needs. Most times, they can’t stop themselves from knowing, or from giving in. So Sirius, like the good

friend he is, swings again. And again. Again. Again. Again.

And James is spitting blood on the floor, but finally. Finally, he can’t feel the pain in his chest, in his soul. So all he knows how to do right now is laugh. So he starts laughing. And laughing and laughing and laughing. It gets more labored as the blood in his mouth becomes too much, but he tries. He tries to laugh because he knows that after the hits stopped coming he would feel every ounce of pain once more.

And he is correct. Because as soon as James’ laughter reaches Sirius, his fist freezes mid-air. James tries to look at him, and plead with him, but he can’t see through the tears in his eyes. He does, however, manage to grasp the horrified look that passes over his best friend’s face. Etched into it was disgust, also fear. Fear because James was laughing while getting beat up and now he was whispering through laugh-sobs. “Please. Please, Sirius.” He tries reaching for Sirius’ fist but the other boy just pulls himself far away from James, as if something sinister had burned him. “Please, Sirius. I deserve it.” James feels then weeks, no months of guilt crash into him, from all sides. A battlefield of his own making.

Sirius shakes his head and a scared breath escapes his lips as he says, disbelieving “You need help, James. You’re – this – it’s no – it’s not okay.” And James tries to reach for him. Because if Sirius isn’t going to hit him, he could also use a hug, but Sirius promptly moves away, towards the door of their shared dorm. “Please, Sirius. I – I love him. I – I love – Regulus” His lover’s name feels like a prayer. A prayer to whatever cruel God was playing this awful joke on all of them to just turn back time. Just once. But there was no cruel God. And time only ever goes forward, never back.

Sirius’ hand feels for the handle on the door and tugs it open harshly, eyes never leaving James’ bloodied face. “You – I can’t – I’m sorry – I – I didn’t mean to – “ And with that Sirius was gone and James was once again left alone. Alone with the pain. The pain that started immediately after Sirius’ hands left his bruised face. And he never wanted it. A soldier never asks for war. But when war comes, it leaves nothing unharmed.

So James sinks to the floor, cradling his face in between his two war-ridden arms, and lets the blood war drew out of him seep through his fingers and drip onto the floor, piling like the heaps of regret settling in his soul.

*****

Of course, James knows that trying to talk to Regulus is a bad idea. So he doesn’t do that. Well, not quite. He just wanted to give him his Christmas gift. He would’ve succeeded if it wasn’t for the bodyguards of R.A.B. that seemed to corner him and push him farther away from his goal.

“Get the fuck away, Potter!” Barty barked once again, for the third time.

“But, I just ne – “

“No! I don’t care what it is. Get the fuck away from Regulus or I will knock the little brain you have out of that big head of yours! Got it?” He wouldn’t even let him speak. Again, James knows it’s justified, but he still can’t help but feel annoyed with Crouch.

He never liked him and he doesn’t now. Especially now.

“Barty, I just need to give him something. I swear I’m not going to talk to him. Please!” James is pleading now and he’s sure if there’s anyone around them, they’re getting the show of their life. He doesn’t care. Not when it comes down to Regulus.

“No! I don’t understand. Are you fucking stupid or something, Potter? No means no! N. O. No!”

James is suddenly reminded of why he’s never been that fond of Slytherins. They’re just as stubborn as Gryffindors. Maybe even more so.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Evan Rosier is now jogging over to where James is arguing with Barty, an angry blaze in his eyes as soon as they land on James “Oh, fuck no. Get out of here, James!”

And okay. Maybe that hurts a tiny bit more because James definitely thought Evan liked him when they met. And he quite liked Evan then too. But now that shy boy is barking orders around like nothing is going to stop him from kicking James all the way out himself. James has to admit; he was grateful that Reg has such great friends. He isn’t nearly as fond of them, however, when they’re standing in his way of getting to the man he loves.

“Evan, please! I need to give him something. Please, it’s important!” James really is trying his best, because this really is that important.

“Yeah, well you know what else is important, James? Not fucking lying to your boyfriend with every single word! That! That is important as well, Potter! I guess you don’t really care about important after all.” Evan is hissing at this point. Hatred, evident in his words, like venom. And James knows the feeling because he has experienced it as well. Whenever someone threatens Sirius or talks shit about his parents, they are hit with that same venom. “Now get the fuck away.” Rosier’s words are slow and methodical. And James is sure that could have scared armies away. It is way scarier than any angry insult. It can kill.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going.” James mumbles, staring shell-shocked at the two boys standing side by side. Honorable soldiers. Not like James. They would never turn the gun on the one they love.

So he leaves. Even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t change much. He wasn’t going to get anywhere near Regulus before the break. He would just have to send the present to his cousins’ then.

*****

Yet again, luck keeps evading James Potter.

“If you do not back the fuck up in the next five seconds, I will make your head double its size, Potter,” Dorcas says as she keeps trying to move past the Gryffindor boy bravely holding his position. James was able to corner her on Dorcas’ way out of potions and well…”I swear to Merlin, Potter. Don’t make me get detention again.” Well, Dorcas certainly isn’t a fan of his, that’s for sure. And James knew she wasn’t kidding. Dorcas seems perfectly capable and judging by the way her nostrils were flared and her eyes were squinted, she was also very very tempted.

“Meadowes, please! I just – you’re honestly my last hope.” James really is trying. Has been all of today and yeah, maybe he hasn’t succeeded yet but maybe Dorcas would have mercy on him.

“Oh, that’s it…” Dorcas is reaching into her robe and pulling out her wand faster than James can register it happening. Suddenly, he’s pressed against the harsh stone wall of the corridor, feeling each little pebble penetrate his robe and dig into his skin as the Slytherin girl presses one of her arms against his throat, holding him steady and pointing her want towards his head with the other.

Okay, maybe James pushed too far this time. “Dor-“ Meadowes’ arm presses harder into his adam’s apple and James lets out a breathless grunt. Shit. Deep shit. “Look I’m – I’m sorry, okay? I just – I”

“No. No more talking from you, Potter. My turn to speak now.” There is a wild gleam in Dorcas’ eyes as a smirk slowly creeps onto her features. The soft flicker of light from the torches placed all around the castle, one hanging right next to where James’ head is currently harshly being pushed, suddenly doesn’t seem very warm. If anything, it makes all of Dorcas’ features twist and turn, creating sharp edges and making her look downright terrifying. “You think you’re so guilt-ridden and heartbroken, don’t you? Well, I can assure you that Regulus hasn’t cried a single tear for you or your stupid little joke. Because you know what, you pathetic excuse of a human being? He doesn’t care.”

Her words cut deep, right into James’ being. His brain tries to process what it just heard. Regulus hadn’t cried. Not that every part of James isn’t projectile vomiting at the thought of Regulus being upset over anything at all, ever, but a part of him is also hurt. Hurt with knowing that apparently, Regulus wasn’t as affected as him. Maybe Regulus doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe he doesn’t truly love him. But how? James tries searching Dorcas’ face for a hint of a lie, desperately trying to dissect every micro expression. But there’s nothing. Not even a sliver of remorse in the form of an arched eyebrow or eyes tugged at the corners. Nothing to give him hope. She is either a very, very convincing liar or she’s telling the truth and Regulus truly doesn’t care. 

“Yeah. You heard that right. He doesn’t care. So whatever you want to tell him or give him? He won’t want that either, Potter.” Dorcas is smiling now. A crazed smile tugging on her lips. It doesn’t reach her eyes though and James is glad. Because he would be truly terrified if that kind of smile reached anyone’s eyes. Still, there is something about all of these people that James had never noticed. All of Regulus’ friends have that fierce, cold exterior that comes out in situations they feel are needing it. A strive to protect, to shield, to inflict pain. It makes them scary, and dangerous. And James had never looked at them like that before. Not really.

“I don’t – I’m sorry” James is tired of repeating it. He hasn’t stopped saying it today and truly, even weeks before he had been repeating it like a mantra in his head every time he found himself near a reminder of Regulus like it could fix the problem he was specifically ignoring and pushing further away. Well, he can’t run forever.

Dorcas’ head tilts to the side and her hand grips the grey wand so hard that her knuckles go white. She’s getting ready to strike. “I don’t need your apologies, James.” 

Dorcas exhales unsteadily and James is ready. He’s ready for whatever jinx or hex Dorcas is going to inflict upon him. Just like this morning, with his best friend, something twisted in James is yearning for the pain, for the humiliation. He craves it like nothing before. He knows it’s wrong, James knows that whatever this sick thing within him is, it isn’t healthy, but he doesn’t want to stop it. Because it comforts him. It gives him something to be mad about, something to occupy his mind, something to stop his thoughts from running back to Regulus and stop his mind from repeating over and over: Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

Dorcas pushes her wand forward into his neck and starts muttering the words of the spell like she’s eager to do it, yet so, so scared. “Entomorp-“

“What the fuck, Dorcas?!” Marlene’s voice rings out in the empty corridor. The small wisps of flame in the torches seem to tremble with the severity of the Gryffindor’s words, like viewers of this disturbing encounter, caught enjoying it.

Dorcas’ hand immediately drops and her head whips around toward the sound of her girlfriend’s voice. Still, her other hand stays firmly locked in place, holding James to the wall. If anything, she pushes further and James can feel the airflow through his throat decrease significantly.

Before he knows what’s happening, Marlene is yelling at Dorcas to let him go and with a huff, the Slytherin does just that, letting James fall forward and try and catch his breath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Marlene sounds angry, so angry and James can almost feel sorry for Dorcas who is about to experience the full wrath of a certain Marlene McKinnon.

“I – Marlene I just” Dorcas is stumbling over her words and looks bravely between James who is now up on his feet, still feeling a bit dizzy, but nonetheless standing, and Marlene who is walking towards them at an excruciatingly fast pace.

“No. No, tell me, please! What do you think you’re doing Meadowes? Hexing James! James, go!” Marlene is yelling now, her voice bouncing off the bare walls and returning back to its original spot, only doubled in volume. James knows that when a friend barges in and saves you from a hex, you stay and help. It’s an unwritten rule and James has been in so many scuffles by now that he knows how these work. But at the same time, this isn’t a regular fight, where Sirius insulted the wrong person or a Ravenclaw made a snarky comment about Lily Evans in front of the Marauders.

No, this is Marlene and Dorcas. Hogwarts’ best couple. Hogwarts’ fiercest couple. And James knows better than to stay. He finds his legs doing the work for him, moving farther and farther away from the shouts that are sure to attract nosy students with nothing better to do. The two girls don’t seem to care anyway.

“The insect hex, Dorcas? Really? How immature are you..”

James turns another corner and the couples’ voices are drowned out by the bustle of students of all ages dragging suitcases and caged animals around, trying to get to the train before everyone else, hoping to find a free compartment.

James is suddenly reminded of the fact that he should be boarding a train that will take him home now, but first, there is a box in his robes that he needs to get to the owlery first. Regulus deserves a present for Christmas, at least.

...............