Chapter 6
---James---
“Be quiet, Pete”, Sirius whispers, his voice sharp and tense. The three of them are walking towards the Great Hall underneath the invisibility cloak while James stares at the map, looking out for anyone coming their way. It’s late already, so he can watch the names all in their dorms. Sometimes he likes to stare at the names and imagine the conversations they might be having.
He doesn’t define it as stalking. More like entertainment. It’s like reading a book but you’re the author writing the lines and the characters already exist. See, completely normal.
“I’m perfectly quiet, Sirius”, but he keeps his mouth shut after that and James is sure that he is pouting, but right now, he doesn’t care.
“Everything looking good, Prongs?”, Sirius asks also choosing to ignore Peter.
“Yes… wait”, his eyes focus on the lonely name tag moving towards them, “No, no, no, Snape that weasel is coming our way.”
Without speaking they all run towards the wall, pressing against it while making sure their feet are still covered, Snape turns around the corner with light casting his troubled face in deep shadows, he looks sad, almost lost.
James feels a spark of empathy for him but wipes it away as soon as he has passed, beside him Peter releases a deep breath and Sirius elbows him in the side, he only rolls his eyes in response, hiding the sharp pain that he must feel right now.
He glances at the map once more before motioning them to continue down their path, they walk in silence for a while until Sirius breaks it with a complaint: “We are getting too big for this cloak, I’ve never felt more restrained.”
“Yeah”, Peter chimes in, “we’re lucky Remus isn’t here as well.”
Beside him Sirius takes a sharp inhale: “What?”, it’s not playful, it sounds angry almost furious. James doesn’t understand if it wasn’t for Sirius’ immediate reaction he maybe would have even chuckled. But Sirius is far from even a tight smile.
“What “what”?”, most of the time Peter backs down when Sirius takes something wrong or too personal, but one some occasions he fights, in those moments even James is scared of him because he can never predict when it will happen.
The first time it had felt like a betrayal, like he had taken a knife and stabbed them all, destroyed their lives, but of course he didn’t, they just weren’t used to him fighting. It wasn’t something he was known to do, not something he does, expects if it’s against Sirius for some reason.
“We’d be lucky if Remus was here with us, everyone… I mean, he’s a marauder, he should be here… you can’t just say that”, his voice is getting louder.
“I was just agreeing with you”, Peter shouts but his voice isn’t loud enough to carry far away.
“You obviously weren’t because I’d never say that about him!”
James has never witnessed such a useless fight, it’s not even miscommunication, they both know that there’s no reason for, they both know that Remus couldn’t care less that he’d probably laugh and agree and return to doing literally anything else, but tonight something has caught Sirius, he’s looking for it and Peter is ready to give that.
“But you’d say that about me, wouldn’t you?”, Peter laughs bitterly and there he is again, the Peter whose betrayal wouldn’t surprise James.
“If you don’t want this to be said about you, maybe you shouldn’t say it!”
“You know what, Sirius, this is stupid”, Peter sighs before slipping out of the cloak and walking back towards the dorm.
Sirius looks ready to punch a wall. Or a person.
“Whoa, Sirius, calm down”, James begins because this used to work.
“Why? Why, James? I don’t want to. He can’t just say that, not, not about Remus”, James only frowns.
“I don’t think he’d care that much.”
“But I care! I fucking care!”, Sirius almost explodes, but instead of anger and fire, he falls apart into ashes, “Why does nobody believe me? Do I need to cut myself open, so that you believe me? Do I need to fall to my knees and beg that you see me? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do it”, Sirius’ voice breaks but he keeps going, James can only watch with wide eyes, “I’d do anything, but no, I’m just stupid and reckless, can’t use my head, don’t know anything of value. I mean, my own brother doesn’t believe that I care, how can anyone else? How will anyone else ever?”, he laughs wetly, “They won’t.”
“I believe you”, he states weakly.
“Well, James, you believe everyone, and you can almost read my mind, so of course you would, but I need someone to believe me because they trust that I won’t lie. I wouldn’t lie”, the anger is gone, and Sirius has disappeared into a small puddle of pain. The distraction hadn’t been enough. Everything has still caught up with him.
James wraps his arms around him, grabbing him firmly, ready to give all his warmth if he could just dry away his tears with it. But the tears keep coming, it doesn’t matter how much warm he tries to give up.
Sirius pulls back, wiping away his tears quickly: “I’m sorry, James, I got to…”, he whispers, “I love you.”
He slips out underneath the cloak and runs off toward the forest and James is left alone watching Sirius disappear, his figure growing more and more blurry as tears start filling his eyes.
Maybe he shouldn’t have believed that a distraction was all they needed, that they could pretend everything was like last year when it obviously isn’t and never will be that careless again, he lets the tears roll down his cheeks, knowing that no one’s there to see it anyway. It comforts him because he doesn’t have to explain or apologise, there’s no one to do any of that to anyway.
He can’t go back to the dorm, can’t try to solve this argument, not when he’s like this, not when he can’t even fix himself, but the forest is too dangerous when Padfoot is in it as well, they’ll probably cross paths, so instead he takes off towards the corridor in which the change that his entire life had taken on had first become clear to him.
James shouldn’t be sad, there’s nothing happening to him, Sirius is allowed to break, and Remus is, and even Regulus is, but not him, he’s their defender or wants to be. His home life is more than fine, it’s perfect, there’s no sibling that he has to worry about or wounds that appear every full moon and a heart that breaks whenever he has to look at them.
There’s nothing, well, there’s the war, but everyone’s affected by it, so even that is a not an excuse. Maybe that’s Peter excuse and he can’t just steal an excuse, there’s nothing for him. He’s just there. He’s out of excuses.
Somehow it makes him cry even more.
The corridor is empty when he arrives, it’s ghost-quiet, his steps echoing through the hall.
He leans against a cold wall and slides to the floor, tears dripping onto the ground until his hands hide his eyes.
He can’t breathe. It’s true what Sirius said, the cloak is too small, keeping him in this bubble where the tears that no one can dry because there’s no one there, are beginning to take away his space and fill his lungs until his breaths don’t sound like breaths anymore, but rather a thousand sobs.
A few times in his life, he had thought that someone had joined the bubble and would help him, would dry his tears, and dig a hole to the outside world to let the excess water flow away and he could stand again.
That’s what happened with Lily.
He had thought that she slipped in the moment her eyes had met his and warmth had spread through his entire body, he had thought that warmth meant that there wouldn’t be a barrier between them, that for once he could touch someone without feeling the stupid bubble in his fingers.
But he had been stupid and hopeful, and it had sounded so perfect. It turned out that like everyone else the bubble fit him too perfectly and was too invisible for anyone to see or feel. It had hidden him for so long that no one knew him without it, and no one could imagine seeing his skin not glowing or his hair shining. It had become him, had merged with his skin.
Now he had accepted that this was his, his to carry and his to hide. So, he doesn’t let himself think about it, but, God, was that stupid cloak the perfect analogy for it, well, not perfect, he could pull that off.
So, he did.
He let the cold air brush over his cheeks and through his hair while his tears kept coming and his before muffled cries become louder and louder, so loud, in fact, that he can feel a slight panic surge that it will rip him apart, but those thoughts are washed away too quickly to make him stop or change.
The only thing that does make him stop is a sharp inhale next to him followed by a large sigh.
He flinches, his head shooting up and eyes meeting those of Regulus Black.
--- Regulus ---
He wants to be annoyed. He really does. He wants to huff and walk past his brother’s best friend like he didn’t even bother to see if he was hurt. He has every right to, actually.
This is his place. His place where he is alone. He just is.
Like ten minutes ago when he snuck out of his dorm after Barty said that he invited the Seventh Year’s and he got angry and annoyed at that, because this was also his room, had a small fight with Barty and Evan who was on Barty’s side for no reason other than that he is still angry with him for this morning, and left the room to go here.
To be alone.
You can imagine how annoyed Regulus was when he heard cries from HIS corridor. He was ready to barge in and tell the person to get lost until a whimper echoed through his ears and, oh , he recognized that distinct voice.
That stupidly beautiful voice.
Maybe he should have just kept walking then, went anywhere else and forget about this, but his hand was already on the door know, so he turned it, and his eyes fell on the pile of agony on the floor.
It’s beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful other people would like to look at, most people would either look away or try to change the situation of James, but when he looks up with wide red eyes, Regulus can only stare.
It’s haunting, the kind of haunting that you would be thankful for, because he cannot see himself ever not ready to absorb this tragically beautiful picture.
He doesn’t feel the urge to help him, he’s never really felt that with anyone, but this time it isn’t because it doesn’t make him feel something, he isn’t numb to the scene before him, but rather he just feels like this doesn’t need help.
It’s utterly perfect. In fact, so perfect, he forgets that he was mad and is ready to just keep observing it until he turns to stone.
Of course, then James Potter has to ruin it by wiping away his tears and straightening his back before speaking or rather whispering with a weak voice: “Hello.”
“Hello”, there’s a bit of annoyance swaying in his tone because he’d rather not talk, but intrigue at this new version of James takes over, mostly at least, “You don’t look happy.”
James’ eyebrows shoot up and he coughs helplessly, wiping away some more tears before responding: “Yeah.”
He really doesn’t like that he has to lead this conversation right now, well, he doesn’t have , he doesn’t have to do anything, that’s something that he takes pride in.
Regulus sighs before taking a seat opposite of James. He looks at him with furrowed brows as an responds, he can’t really blame him.
James doesn’t cry again. They just sit there in silence, Regulus looking at James while he stares at the ground a single tear rolling down his face once in a while. Regulus liked it better when he was sobbing, it made him look so human but impossibly perfect at the same time, now he just looks perfectly human with emotions.
“You looked pretty”, maybe he should leave, that was horrible, he wants to slap himself, but his expression don’t change, he doesn’t even advert his eyes. It needed to be said, just once. He watches James look up with confusion blooming in his face in all shades of green and a bit of blue.
“When… when I was breaking down?”, he cringes when he says it, as if it hurts him to say it.
Regulus purses his lips and nods.
“Thanks?”
Regulus sighs once more: “It’s not really a compliment.”
Though it was, but not one that you show gratitude for. He can’t even explain it himself, but those compliments feel too honest, too real for a response. He just needs to get them out.
“Pretty isn’t a compliment?”, his voice is almost back to normal.
“Depends”, he shrugs, “saying that you would look pretty dead, isn’t one.”
But, yes, it is. It always is. His favourite one in fact.
It says that you would look perfect frozen in time, that you could look like this forever and always be beautiful. It’s his favourite compliment.
“Yes, it is”, his breath hitches at the other’s words.
“Well, mine was more meant that you looked so tragic that the painting of it could haunt someone”, he quickly changes topics, not wanting to ruin the small feeling of someone thinking the same before James can explain and prove that no one thinks like him.
“You sound depressed”, he states, and his gaze leaves him and wanders to the window behind Regulus.
“Aren’t we all?”
James purses his lips and his eyes glisten again.
“Are you depressed, James”, he observes the way James eyes glance around without searching for something and his breath quickens before he speaks up with too much force.
“No!”, it doesn’t come out strong though, it sounds broken.
“Then why were you crying?”, he digs deeper.
James doesn’t answer, his eyes finally locking onto his fingers twitching anxiously in his lap.
“James”, he tries to say it urgently and firm, but instead it almost come out gentle.
It’s enough to make James fold. His name is enough for the tears to return and his body to fall apart once more, his head disappears behind his hands and all that reaches Regulus’ ears are muffled sobs.
James he almost wants to say again, wants to remind him who he is, because this isn’t him, he’s the golden boy who has no dark sides because the sun is constantly shining them away. But he stops himself because as he looks at the boy in front of him, he notices that the sun isn’t any less present.
It’s still painting him in beautiful colours but instead of bright and strong, the lights the sun grants him are the gentle strokes of the moon.
This is him. This is him in darkness. Still the source of light just not as strong anymore. Still powered by the same force and not even weaker just less.
Oh James.
His name sounds differently now, has a different effect, it’s fuller. He has to say it. Has to feel it on his tongue.
“James”, he lets it roll of his tongue, his voice sounds different when he says it this time.
James’ head snaps up. Face still wet from tears and eyes still full, but his mouth is slightly ajar.
“I’m so sorry… I’m… oh god, oh god, I..”, James begins rambling without warning and his expression changes once more, looking more pained than ever before and so, so guilt ridden.
“I mean… this is… stupid… worthless, really, Oh God, what… I mean… this… completely worthless…”
He probably would have continued forever but Regulus interrupts him: “Stop.”
“No, no, no, I’m fine. It’s just I mean there’s no excuse, you know. This is just me being weird”, he tries to explain waving his hands uselessly in the air.
Regulus frowns, “Nobody cries like that for no reason.”
“Yes, I mean... no, but …I do. There’s no reason, aren’t you listening? This isn’t anything.”
“Are you listening? Did you listen to the way you cried? That’s not normal”, he argues, feeling hot anger stir in his body, he doesn’t like people not taking facts and doing whatever James is doing right now.
“No, no, no. NO! I’m normal.”
Regulus isn’t sure if he just keeps saying the wrong things or if James isn’t listening and comprehending.
“Yes”, he tries again, “You’re normal.”
He gestures at his body: “Even this is normal”, he squints his eyes, “as long as you acknowledge that it isn’t.”
To this James obviously doesn’t have an answer, so he bites on his lip maybe to keep him from talking again.
“Why were you crying?”, he asks again.
James seemingly finally gives up and speaks in a low voice: “I don’t know. Because of everything.”
That’s a start.
“What’s your everything?”
James blinks and inhales before looking up and staring directly into his eyes: “Change.”
It feels weirdly aimed, but of course, that doesn’t make any sense, so he ignores it.
“What’s changing? And don’t say everything.”
“My life”, it’s short and his mouth falls shut.
It almost seems like this is it, but then he sighs and continues: “the war. And it’s not necessarily the change, but it transforms everything else and everyone. People act differently, they change.”
I know.
He grabs his arm with the black ink mindlessly, feeling the burn that follows soon after. James stares at the movement, Regulus pulls his hand away again.
“In the real world, everything has changed. My parents have wrinkles and their smiles have become rare, but even in here friendships and priorities change”, he pauses, letting the words sink in before leaning forward as if he was confessing a secret.
“This isn’t even Hogwarts anymore, this is something else, Regulus”, he whispers with scared eyes.
Before it was easy to distance himself from the words he spoke in the silence, but now it crashes into him, the words seep into his skin and turn his organs inside out.
He’s falling, the words ripping him deeper and deeper, he wants to leave, he needs to leave, but James isn’t done.
“It’s worse than out there, isn’t it? It’s so much worse, because here people are pretending.”
He can’t breathe, he’s too close to everything, nothing is far enough away. His skin is too close to his bones, his feet are too close to the ground, James’ words are too close to his ears, his voice and warm breath is too close to his heart.
Everything is crashing into him. And through him. And over him. And under him.
He needs to go, needs to run, go somewhere where people are still faking everything, but something keeps him tied here, something he needs to find and cut through in an instant.
“James”, his voice sounds strained, but he keeps talking, “You just… you just have to be better at pretending. The best one.”
His breaths are coming short and unsteady now, but he needs to force this out, find the words that will cut them apart forever:
“People pretending isn’t bad, as long as they are good at it and you’re better”, he gets up, but the string is still there.
It hurts to keep walking, with every step further away the string tightens, but he can’t stop.
“Regulus”, James calls out, but he keeps walking away, blood rushing through his ears and a question is whispered through the waves of blood over and over until he can’t pretend it away:
Do you feel it too?
---James---
James had it all wrong. Regulus is not a potion. Regulus is poison.
He can feel him crawling through his body, nestling in between his organs, and moving them around any way he wants to.
At least he isn’t crying anymore though.
He stays there for a while, until his legs feel strong enough to carry him and he pushes himself up and leaves the corridor.
James’ entire body tingles.
His mind feels weak. It can’t think properly. It’s almost like a trance or just the effect of Regulus Black.
“Stop”, a firm voice calls out and he freezes. It’s Slughorn. He can’t even feel panic. He just stops, doesn’t even turn around until he’s asked to.
“James Potter”, the professor grumbles, clearly annoyed, “Aren’t you a little old to be this stupid.”
He just nods. There isn’t enough energy for anything else, he’s been drained.
“Especially after everything that has happened? With your best friend”, he shakes his head, clearly riling himself up even further, “You know what, I don’t even want to hear your excuses, this is disrespectful. Two weeks detention with me and fifty points taken, Understood?”
He doesn’t fully register it, just notices how tired the teacher looks and turns around to keep walking.
“I asked you a question”, his voice grows louder, James stops once more, “Do you think this is funny? Turn around when I am speaking to you!”
He turns around.
“Two weeks more, no, you know what, you are in 7th year! Six weeks! Now go away, out of my sight.”
He does just that, walking towards his dorm.
Regulus has drained him.
No.
Even in this state he can’t say that. Regulus sparked something in him, light a fire, he just wasn’t ready to handle it. It’s his fault.
When he finally makes it into his room and gently opens the door, the curtains around Peter’s and Remus’ bed are closed and no one acknowledges him slipping in. They’re probably already asleep, maybe they think he’s with Sirius.
His gaze shifts to Sirius’ bed which is empty.
James falls into his bed to dream of tears and his name being said over and over again, but not normally. No, the way Regulus had said it that one time.
He listens to it so often that it lights another fire, a big one. So big that Hogwarts goes up in flames, but he doesn’t care. Regulus is saying his name. Regulus is next to him. Regulus is flowing though his veins in from of deadly poison. +
Regulus.
James wakes up to silence. This is something that doesn’t happen very often. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and tries to listen for tired steps walking towards the bathroom or quiet whispers, but there’s nothing.
Then the memories from the day before come back and it makes sense.
He climbs out of his bed and notices that he’s still in his black robe before letting his gaze wander over the other beds, Remus’ bed is empty, the blanket thrown to the side without a second thought, Peter’s and Sirius’ curtains are shut and he sighs before padding over to the bathroom.
Pretend.
A voice in his head says. He decides to do just that by not thinking of the voice anymore and instead wondering if Peter told Remus what had happened. A part of him thinks so, that he came into the dorm venting and ranting and Remus just listened, frowned, and suggested playing chess.
But another thinks that Peter kept it quiet. He knows Peter. At least the Peter that doesn’t explode like he did yesterday, because even though he has seen that Peter, he still doesn’t know him in the slightest. But the Peter, Pete, he does know wouldn’t say anything, because he’d believe that Remus would be on Sirius’ side anyway.
Sometimes James believes that too, that Remus would choose him blindly if he could just touch Sirius’ hand, that’s all he’d need to trust him. They are like two puzzle pieces. But of course, James only believes that sometimes.
There used to be a time when he always believed that, back when they were one. One piece merged together, not in the way Sirius and James were, not from the same stone or connected through thoughts. They didn’t touch as James and Sirius did, they didn’t play fight like them. James couldn’t explain it, but they are caught in this energy field together.
When one goes back the other one does as well, when one hurts the other does too.
But that was before 5th year when they got split apart. When one became two. When they were suddenly trapped in their energy and couldn’t get out even though Remus couldn’t look at Sirius and Sirius didn’t dare try to. That was when they tried to pretend, they weren’t. But of course, it didn’t work. They were still in the same energy.
Over time they had fixed it, at least to some degree, but it had left an impact. Remus wasn’t careless anymore. He hadn’t been extremely careless before, but he still had some of that teenager lightness, that was gone then.
One night Sirius had slipped into James’ bed and whispered that he stole his spark, before breaking down, the next day Remus had come to him and said he heard before smashing his plate and destroying a sink in the nearest toilettes. Though that was close to a full moon to be fair.
Their friendship had changed after they finally reconciled too, suddenly, they were touching each other more often, they were bickering and fighting, and they were caught up in their own world more often. They are just that kind of friends.
-
“James!”, Remus’ voice finds his ears as a fist bangs against the door, “Hurry up!”
“Sorry”, he calls out, relaxing when his voice comes out normally.
He opens the door and Remus slips past him already in his robes, slamming the door shut behind him.
Normally, that would wake Sirius, but it stays silent behind the curtains, no blankets shifting or tired grumbling, almost like he’s trying not to move, maybe Sirius is pretending too.
He sighs, but it at least confirms that Peter didn’t tell Remus, that he explained his mood with a different explananation, and it explains why Remus is not more careful. He’s acting the same as always, it’ perfect. It makes him feel normal.
James decides to wait for Remus, so he can fill him in, he deserves that, deserves to know why Sirius probably won’t go to lectures today, of course, he won’t talk about his break down just the fight. He plops down onto his bed and stares at the door know until it finally turns again.
“Sorry”, Remus mumbles, “good morning.”
“Let’s go for breakfast”, James decides, getting up and walking towards the door, still catching confusion growing in the other’s face.
“Wait, shouldn’t we wait for…”, he begins but James shakes his head and stalks out the door.
“Let’s just go.”
“All right.”
Remus stays quiet until they leave the Gryffindor tower.
“What happened?”, he sounds alarmed, and a bit confused still, “Does this have to do with Peter stumbling into the dorm room, practically fuming?”, Remus raises his eyebrows, James simply nods, “Oh, of course, it does. What happened?”
“Nothing bad, Sirius and Peter got into a fight”, he stares ahead.
“Peter? What…”, he says quietly then his brows furrow and James knows he must be thinking about the other times he exploded, “What did they fight about?”
James hesitates, wondering if he should tell, technically he deserves and should know, but a part of him wants to protect Remus from feeling guilty or like a reason. But he doesn’t know how he can explain that it wasn’t his fault, they needed to explode, and he was the match that was closest. It would have happened anyway, he didn’t see it last night, but now it seems clearer than ever.
He should have noticed the tiny glares they sent each other and Sirius’s fidgeting while peter seemed to shrink further and further into himself, he should have stopped their plan when Sirius made that snide comment, but he didn’t he had been blinded by the distraction.
“James”, Remus rips him out of his thoughts, staring at him with a small crease between his brows.
Fuck it.
“You”, Remus’ eyes widen, they are filled with surprise but and maybe he just imagined this, he thinks he sees some hope sparkling in his eyes, and James backtracks, “No, no, not really about you.”
“What? James”, poor Remus looks more confused than ever.
They are at the Great Hall, but Remus stops in front of the door, clearly waiting for an explanation.
“It was really stupid”, he begins, “but Sirius complained about the space underneath the cloak, Peter said that it was lucky you weren’t there. Sirius got mad, Peter stormed off and then Sirius stormed off.”
He’s talking too fast, but Remus understands, and that tiny almost invisible spark hope is gone and instead it’s just confusion again.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“What?!”, Remus looks a bit amused now, “that’s what they fought ?”
It almost seems a bit ridiculous now, but oh, it hadn’t been then, last night it had been a nightmare. Remus should’ve been there, he would have stopped the argument, then of course with him the argument wouldn’t have even worked, but if they had found a different one, he would have shut that one down too.
Because if Remus isn’t the one being attacked or attacking (mostly Sirius), he is a voice of reason. As soon as he’s not in the situation his heart shuts off and all that’s left is his quick head.
“Yeah”, James slips through the door and is hit with the voices of the students already eating breakfast.
“Then that will clear up soon”, Remus states, and he doesn’t say but it’s clear to both of them that if they haven’t gotten over it till the end of this day, Remus and him will make them.
They eat breakfast and with Remus everything is so refreshingly easy. Talking: easy. Laughing: easy. Pretending: easy.
Lily joins them a while later and soon Marlene does too and James watches as Remus laughs with the other two, blooming in their presence and it seems so simple.
Then he looks up and sees Regulus enter and is reminded that it isn’t easy for him.
---Regulus---
James really doesn’t know how to be subtle. He probably never had to be. Was never forced to fly under the radar, no, he has always flown high.
He’s staring at him without a hint of trying to hide it, his eyes burn into Regulus’ skin, but it doesn’t hurt, it just feels warm. That’s the worst part.
Sometimes he’ll look to the side and respond to something his friends say, but after a few seconds he feels the intense gaze again.
He probably shouldn’t notice this, but he doesn’t have someone to talk to. Barty and Evan are still asleep and by the nauseating smell of fire whiskey in their dorm, it will take them a while to get up and even longer to be amenable.
So, his staring is reasonable and justified, what is he supposed to do? Advert his eyes and look somewhere else? That’s just stupid.
He keeps looking while eating his porridge and it makes him feel calm, well, calmer, like he could do this forever and never get bored, always stay in this place where he almost feels neutral, like he hasn’t chosen a side, like people aren’t afraid of him and his family has one member more.
“Regulus!”, a voice chirps and his gaze is torn away from the boy, he turns around, looking at the young boy in front of him. He couldn’t be older than fifteen, his light hair is too long and his nose slightly crooked, his entire face is drowning in freckles, but his eyes are fierce. He has never seen him before; his tie is green.
“What?”, he spats with a little more anger than necessary.
“Dumbledore told me to inform you”, the boy begins, his voice shaky but trying to sound monotone. The speech already sounds horribly practiced, “that your detention will begin on Monday with Professor Slughorn after Quidditch practice down in the dungeons.”
The boy is out of breath and has to take a moment before he can continue speaking.
“Sorry for disturbing your breakfast”, it doesn’t sound practiced just scared and somewhere deep down inside of him something stings when the fifteen-year-old prefect has that much trouble speaking to you.
He has to say something.
“All right”, it’s better than saying nothing, he waits a second longer, waiting for something, something that doesn’t happen, so he turns back to his porridge.
He listens for footsteps, but they don’t come, so he forces his voice to work once more.
“Thank you for the information”, the words come out clipped and pained, but they come out, he tries to pretend they are insignificant, he doesn’t even turn around for them. The response is a muffled noise and short quick footsteps.
Huh.
Regulus has never had detention before. He had hoped that that would never change. He had wished so desperately, had clung to his hope that he would never get punished here, maybe if he hadn’t hoped he would’ve made it through the seven years without feeling punishment at this place, but it was a wish that he couldn’t control or abandon and so it had become like his other hopes: destroyed and worthless, when it’s eventually crushed.
If he’s honest it fell apart at the beginning of this school year, on the very first day when his brother had slapped him, just the thought of it makes his cheek tingle and burn again.
So, it was crushed already, therefore he really shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t, he doesn’t. He should be happy really, now this place really was home.
But he wasn’t feeling exhilarated, he felt dirty.
The porridge had lost its taste. He didn’t dare to look over at the Gryffindor table again, too scared of seeing his blood sitting there, doing completely fine because he didn’t care about being punished, he never did. Even before he came here, he could smile after taking the beatings, could still rebel, he ripped himself from the blood that threatened to glue him to the ground.
But Regulus? Regulus was stuck, his blood and tears keeping him in place. He was not like his brother, the only thing they shared was the blood stain in their mother’s heart that Sirius escaped, and Regulus got glued to forever and ever.
That was it.
Maybe that’s why it still hurt to get punished here because when Sirius slapped him, he was only physically here, they hadn’t been here though, he had been slapped in his house, in the house Sirius hadn't even entered for years, so the spilled blood only stuck him further to his mother heart, but this was going to open a new blood pool, wasn’t it?
Regulus gets up hastily, catching himself with his arms on the table when he almost falls before running out the door. Well, he walks with his head held high, pretends that he’s too high for anything to get to him.
Pretend.
As soon as the heavy door of the Great Hall falls shut, he lets himself stumble and run toward his corridor.
This time he listens at the door to make sure it’s empty before turning the door know and slipping through the door, he doesn’t go into the bathroom, instead he hides his face behind his hands and sinks onto his knees, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders and in his body.
He doesn’t open his eyes for a very long time, he pretends everything away until he can’t anymore, until he can hear loud voices and footsteps outside and has to accept that lectures will start soon.
He blinks, eyes adjusting to the bright lights. He’s about to get up when he notices the silver cloak lying on the ground.
He blinks another time but decides he doesn’t care and stands up walking toward the door when it hits him, it’s where James sat yesterday.
It’s James.
His gaze travels around the corridor swiftly, checking that no one is watching him, watching this pathetic act, before he lets his hands grab the cloak and stuff it beneath his cloak.
He looks around one more time before walking off to class, feeling the warm presence of the cloak underneath his robe, of course, it should be cold since it has been lying there for 12 hours, but it’s warm.
Held warm by James’ touch.