Chapter 7
---James---
They don’t really talk about it.
Well, James tried to, slipped into through Sirius’ bed and gave him one significant look, but Sirius with still red and puffy eyes just shook his head and smiled weakly at him before saying one thing.
“I’ll apologise, but I just can’t… not yet. Not ever.”
Maybe if it had been them in any other situation than the one where a war was being fought and the winner side could be chosen by a coin flip, everyone accepted the simple apology and they tried to move on.
It wasn’t really hard, they’ve gotten through worse, and they just listened to Dumbledore’s speech the next day where he stressed that they should try their best to continue normally through his school year. So, James did, he scheduled the first Quidditch practices and of course, the try-outs, he picked new people and elected Marlene as his second hand.
He went to lectures, did his homework, joked with his friends, and planned a few small pranks, it almost felt normal again.
Not how James imagined his last year, but it was fine.
“James!”, Remus’ voice rips him out of his sleep on Monday morning.
“Remus”, he calls back weakly.
The curtains are ripped away and harsh sunlight blinds him, he shields his eyes as the bed dips due to a new weight dropping onto his bed.
“ James Regulus.
He needed to figure out if there’s anything to do, needs a new plan or one more step or anything. He needs a reason to talk to him again. But there isn’t one.
Meanwhile Sirius is looking, no not just looking, frantically searching, and making up if he absolutely has to, excuses not to talk to his brother, because as soon as the pump of adrenaline was gone, the urge and energy to talk to his brother left too or maybe it was just the guts to do it that disappeared.
“James”, he’s called again, “We’re leaving for breakfast.”
He doesn’t bother to respond and instead listens to the door falling shut after a few seconds.
The common room is almost empty when he finally leaves his dorm and makes his way toward breakfast, only Lily is sitting on a chair reading a letter with her back turned to him, but he still knows it’s her.
Obviously, he does. How could you not? It’s not even her bright hair, but the way she holds herself with simple grace and small breaths.
“Lily!”, he calls out and her head snaps around smiling gently at him.
But when James looks at her for just a second longer, he frowns, because the smile is not genuine, and her eyes look so very sad.
“Lily?”
“Yeah”, she whispers, and he rushes over to her, kneeling in front of her like his mother used to do when he got hurt, carefully he places his hand on her knee.
“What happened?”, his voice is calm, and he gently tries to take down the barrier that Lily is trying to hide behind, but she keeps smiling with that very sad weak little smile like it is all she has.
“Nothing, just a letter”, she shakes her head and sighs as if it’s normal to have that reaction.
“ Lily. ”
“What?!”, her voice is harsh and that smile finally disappears, he doesn’t pull back, but instead squeezes her knee one time and her figure deflates, “Sorry. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Lils.”
“I’s just…”, she waves her hands around looking for words, but just shakes her head again, “I don’t know…”
He doesn’t have anything else to say, he doesn’t know what’s going in her life or how much they are allowed to still share, so he just nods and hopes that Remus or Marlene or Mary will burst in and shield her from everything, because while that is all she deserves he doesn’t know how he can give that to her.
Maybe if his parents hadn’t taught him to never be embarrassed about trying to help, he would have felt pathetic for rushing to her side immediately without even wondering if she wants him to, but it’s Lily Evans and he will never not in a thousand years, not while she even tries to kill him, be able to watch her suffer.
He first realized it in first year when she cried because her sister had written her a nasty goodbye note and all the other boys had fled the scene, but he had walked up to her and asked if he could hug her before offering to burn the note and maybe that had been weird, but he couldn’t help it.
It was just the way it was. In his mind Lily Evan was someone who should never be sad, who deserves nothing but light and sun and laughter. It was like I was ingrained in his mind to always be at her side, he had taken it for romantic love for years until when he finally got to try it, they both realized that it wasn’t. But of course, in the process they had damaged their relationship profoundly.
It still wasn’t and never will be like Lily and Remus’. But to be fair nothing will ever be like them.
“Thank you, James”, her voice was quiet but final and she got up, tossed the letter in the fire, and smiled with an earnest smile before waving him to follow her.
That’s how he knew it must have been her sister. Those were the only letters she always burned.
“Of course,”, he simply said.
“So, how has life been treating you?”, Lily asks as they leave the Gryffindor tower.
He only shrugs and grins at her, wanting to move past the question as fast as possible: “Could ask you the same thing, Head Girl .”
She chuckles: “I’m still mad that you weren’t chosen, just so you know.”
“At me?”, they pass by a group of young Ravenclaws who point at them excitedly when they pass.
“Always.”
“I don’t know if I need to remind you, but that was not my doing”, he argues with feigned disbelief.
“I don’t know if I need to remind you, but your final prank was the only reason that they literally couldn’t make you Head Boy”, she answers, shaking her head when acts shocked.
“That’s where you’re just wrong, Evans.”
“OH really? I’m wrong?”, she asks, her eyes lighting up and challenging him further.
“Yes. That prank was one of the reasons they considered me Head Boy”, he lies.
“So, in your humble opinion your perfect marks or Quidditch skills were the reason they didn’t choose you?”, she pushes the door to the Great Hall open and they slander towards the others.
“What do you want me to say? They just thought I was too perfect”, he shrugs, smiling at her when he takes a seat next to Peter.
She flops down next to Remus and Marlene.
“Remus”, she turns to him after raising his eyebrows at James in warning, “why do you think James wasn’t made Head Boy?”
“I don’t…”, he begins, glancing between carefully.
“No”, she cuts in, pressing her finger to his lips, “There are two options. The idiotic prank you guys pulled on the last day or his great marks?”
“Idiotic?”, Sirius cuts in, shaking his head.
“Oh, was it not idiotic in your opinion?”, Marlene says while helping herself to another bread roll.
“I repeat ‘idiotic’?”, Sirius continues, “I mean look at Remus, look at that perfect innocent little face, could he ever do something idiotic?”, he points to Remus who rolls his eyes before keeping them oddly forced on his porridge.
“Remus, we need your answer”, Lily says, redirecting the topic.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I just do not think that Remus can answer the question with such wrong wording”, Sirius responds, slapping his head as if they’ve come across a big dilemma.
She sighs but there’s a smile tugging at her lips: “Fine! Remus, the perfect and world changing prank or good marks?”
Sirius nods approvingly before winking at James who is terribly content with simply watching this entire thing unfold.
Remus shoots an apologetic look at James, and he knows he has lost: “Sorry Prongs, but it was our prank.”
Lily whoops, Marlene shakes her hand and pretends to hand her a trophy.
“Fine”, James laughs, leaning in until he can smell her soft lavender perfume, “And you know what Evans? I don’t regret a thing about it “, they all break off into their own conversations and James finally starts eating.
He doesn’t glance at the Slytherin table, not once, not ever, so he shouldn’t have noticed that Regulus isn’t there, but he does, and he notices that Evan and Barty are missing as well.
His gaze wanders over to the table of teachers and when his eyes fall onto Slughorn, it hits him.
The memory that he had buried somewhere deep underneath everything else because it just hadn’t seemed that important to him.
Fuck.
He groans and lets his hands hide his face.
“James?”, Peter chirps next to him, “Everything all right?”
He just groans another time, because that had not been on his radar when he planned anything this week, not his practices or his pranks.
“James”, Sirius asks as well, “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is shit, Sirius!”, he calls out and somewhere Remus just chuckles, “OH, stop laughing at my misery, Remus, would you?”
“Sorry”, the smile is still very evident in his voice, “tell us all about your problems, please.”
“I have detention tonight” he begins, “And tomorrow and the day after that and after that and the day after that, and after that…”
“What?”, Sirius interrupts, “How? When? Why? Why? ”, he practically whines.
“Are you joking, Prongs?”, Peter asks, sounding very unsure.
“No, oh god, I just remembered”, he groans another time.
“For how long?”, Remus asks.
“Six weeks!”, he calls out, burrowing deeper into his hands.
“What?”, Sirius sounds like he’s in utter disbelief, “Tell me you’re lying.”
James doesn’t reply.
“James, tell me you’re lying”, he repeats more intensely this time, “James, tell me you’re fucking joking right now!”
“James, don’t you…”
“I’m not lying”, he answers and naturally Sirius reaches over the table to smack his ear.
“What did you do , Prongs?!”, it almost sounds like his world is ending right now.
James hesitates for a second, unsure what to say, how much he even wants to say that will keep Regulus and his magic away from his friends and not make Sirius feel guilty through thinking that it was his outburst that led to this detention.
“It was stupid Slughorn, he thought I was being disrespectful or something”, he reappears from the security of his hands and immediately wishes he didn’t when he sees Sirius expression.
It’s not exactly rage, not really sadness, also not disappointment, he also wouldn’t call it a mixture of these two. This very specific Sirius face is unique and almost not describable, because he almost looks normal, but there’s just something off. His eyes are a bit too big; his nose is a bit too scrunched, and his eyebrows are a bit too deformed, his lips are pressed in a fine line, and it makes you feel sad.
“You?”, Peter asks in a high voice like it’s the craziest thing he has ever heard, “Disrespectful?”
To this Lily snorts and opens her mouth, but the marauders snap their heads at her, and Sirius’ gaze is so sharp and intense that it would kill, so she promptly closes her mouth just so that they can all watch the amused grin play over it and her eyebrows almost flying off her head before her head turns and a soft chuckle is heard.
“Yes, Peter”, James continues, completely ignoring the encounter with Lily.
“Come on, James. That’s actually the lamest thing to get detention for. Soon, you’ll be marked as uncool, I’m telling you”, Remus teases, it doesn’t really seem to bother him that much anymore.
Sirius looks like he’s about to continue complaining, but Remus slightly nudges him with his shoulder and his gaze snaps down to where their shoulders touched for a second, all expressions draining from his face for just second, before he sighs and locks eyes with James again.
“We’ll make it through this. This is fine. Fine, fine, fine. It’s all good”, he trails off, looking around helplessly for a second, “Hey! Maybe, I’ll just get detention too, then we can pull pranks there and it will be normal. You guys can get some too.”
“Sirius”, Remus begins, “We are not going to get detention this early into the school year, we need to appear at least somehow trustful if we want to keep the ability to pull pranks.”
Peter and James nod which causes Sirius to deflate slightly.
“All right, but we’ll plan all of the pranks with James at least, or we’ll wait before we actually do them.”
The rest of the meal passes in silence between them.
This is so stupid.
He has just ruined the next few weeks for his best friends, the final first weeks of any school year they’ll ever have and, oh, does it make him feel guilty.
The guilt is almost eating him. Slowly chewing through his insides until eventually it will reach skin, break through that and he will be ripped apart by it until it’s just the guilt left, until he is nothing but gut-wrenching guilt.
James was not supposed to ruin this, he is supposed to fix it. He should be the one that comforts the others because they got a detention, but he’s not. He is the issue.
He is the fucking issue.
His behaviour has brought them here, sitting in complete shocked silence at a meal for the first time in forever. He has ruined it.
He did.
He’s breathing heavier now, the weight that settles on his chest deflates his lungs and he struggles and eventually fails to refill them.
He can’t breathe.
His head turns and turns around his guilt until his eyes can’t focus anymore. Everything is blurry.
He might faint. He will faint. He must be fainting, that’s the only explanation.
You can’t burden them with this as well. Go. Fucking GO!
James pushes himself up, blinking away the tears in his eyes, before mumbling something about the bathroom and smiling at them while holding his breaths, so they won’t hear how uneven it has become.
They let him go and as soon as his back is turned to them, the tears jump in his eyes again and he stumbles down the hall, his lungs still not working correctly.
He does his best to continue his breathing. But sometimes his best just isn’t enough.
Because, and James has learned this too many times to not have it written and carved in his bones, everyone that people see as good are measured on the same scale and that scale is something that he has felt his entire life, just glooming over him while he desperately tries to make his body grow there faster.
Every time he doesn’t make it though, it’s like a red ink sinks into his skin and marks his organs and bones and muscles with the same message.
‘You, with everything you try and eventually fail to do, are not enough.’
He now feels it whenever his skin moves and glides over the carved bones. It’s a part of him and sometimes, like now, he is a part of it.
In these moments he is nothing but a small fracture in the scale and he isn’t measured but consumed. It makes it hard to breathe and his vision goes out while on some occasions that have gotten more frequent, he blacks out.
Then he is truly gone. He is nothing.
James is not trapped somewhere, no, he simply is nothing. There’s nothing left of him, and he is nowhere.
And every time he makes it back, he less.
A part of him gets taken away from him. It stays in that nothingness and there’s no way he can get it back. He has accepted it. Even though more and more has been lost.
There are some parts he misses, the parts that used to bring him laughter and happiness. Sometimes he wonders if the others can hear that he had to get a new laugh after it was lost, if they noticed how he had to rebuild his humour.
But that’s just something he has to live with. He has to be okay with the fact that his soul is being nibbled at, because he is okay.
James is okay. James is fine. James is perfect, really.
---- Regulus ----
A big clock is ticking, behind him.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Its dark sounds drill into his mind, burrowing deeper and deeper.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
The door to Slughorn’s office is still sealed shut, his fingers are tapping against his legs in perfect harmony with that stupid clock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Everything else is quiet. No students scattering around, stumbling through the dungeons. He’s alone.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Well, he has that stupid clock and his stupid thoughts that he can’t shed off.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
His breathing is heavier than it should be, air flowing out of his body in short sequences, not waiting for his lungs to be empty before refilling.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
His friends are probably in their dorm right now, maybe talking or reading or drinking, or, or studying or. He left early than he needed to, not ready to hear them tease him, remind that this is his first detention.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Is time even passing? He looks around, darkness is creeping around the corner, dimming his vision, blurring the edges together, it must be late.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
The door creaks open, his head snaps towards it, watching Slughorn’s head poke out, eyeing him up and down and sighing before the door is entirely opened and he slips in behind him.
Slughorn mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “you can never be too careful these days”, before waving him inside.
He’s walking behind, taking in the dark room in, he’s never seen it in the night before, the professor stops abruptly, Regulus is frozen to the ground, not daring to move.
He doesn’t know how these things go; his friends never talk about what happens in them. Is it going to hurt?
Shut up. You’re a Black. Pain means nothing, you know it.
Act. Like. It.
Regulus braces his body for a cold hand against his cheek, and hot iron on his fingers, but only his firm voice hits him, “Are you alone, Mr. Black?”
“Yes”, he says, his voice still clear.
“There’s no one else waiting outside as well?”, he asks again.
“No”, he frowns.
“Gryffindors”, the professor simply says before turning around again, “brave, sure, but stupid all the same.”
Regulus doesn’t answer.
“All right, I get you for two hours today, we’ll start easy”, he points to one of the doors at the end of the dark room, “I will do some grading in here while you organize the sheets in there by date, they are a bit over the place but with the war glooming over us, we might actually need them.”
Without another word, Regulus walks away from Slughorn and towards the dark brown door, the professor is shuffling with some paper behind him and he’s almost through the door when a sharp knock stops him.
He glances over his shoulder, body positioned to slip through the door at any given point, watching the man open the creaking door.
“You’re late”, the teacher says harshly. There’s a mumbled responds he doesn’t catch before Slughorn lets the person inside as well.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
James fucking Potter stumbles inside, looking around the room for a second before spotting him and their eyes interlock.
Fuck.
Regulus wants to rip his eyeballs out; he blinks before slipping through the door and letting it fall shut behind him.
He leans against the door for just a second, air leaving his mouth and hitting the cold air in the room with force, Regulus had gotten so good at avoiding seeing him too, never going to breakfast too late, not eating when he suspects he is, missing Quidditch when it’s one of the stupid shared practices Dumbledore has ordered.
Act. Normal.
He sighs and looks around, shivering as the freezing air flies through his sweatshirt. There are no windows in the room, only one door, no clock, not even chairs, there are just piles and piles of paper flying around, some already yellow and crumbled other still blinding white. A shelf covers the other three walls, filled with books and binders that look dangerously empty.
He sighs again before walking towards one particular stack that is dangerously close to tumbling over and making this mess even worse.
1951 is written on the first paper, he leans in closer trying to decipher more of the smudged and faded letters when the door jumps open. He turns around just when James walks slips inside, the door closing behind him again, and silene washes over them.
Regulus only stares.
James grimaces before shuddering, “It’s really cold in here, wow”, there’s a feigned chuckle in the words, but he ignores them.
“We don’t have to talk, just start with the pile over there”, he points to the one, furthest away from him before turning away and pretending he’s reading the papers and not listening to the boy sighing and his footsteps distancing themselves from him.
This is just how they’ll do it. Silence. That’s how this will work.
Apparently, James has a different plan.
“You think we can ask Slughorn to use his wand for some warmth?”, he asks, teeth rattling from the cold.
“Don’t know, don’t care”, he grits out.
“So, you’re not cold?”
No answer, he looks back onto the next pile searching for another file from the same year.
“You look pretty cold.”
There. 1944. No, wrong year, right? Shit. Wait, which year? 1951. He looks back into the pile.
1951, 1951, 1951…
“I can literally see you shaking.”
1925, 1925, wait. 1952 or was it 1955?
“Are you ignoring me?”
Regulus turns around to glare at him enough to make him shut up. James is sitting next to the pile Regulus assigned him, not moving a finger, the papers still stacked the exact same they were before.
He scoffs before throwing his hands through the air, papers flying around him as soon as he does, “1925!”, he screams which definitely wasn’t the insult he was aiming for.
“What?”, James asks, frowning like his old professor used to when he got something wrong: confused and a little entertained.
He stutters around, searching for words, he usually knows so many, he has never been wordless before. No, that’s a lie, once before.
“Are you alright?”, James asks again.
“You prick!”, there finally an insult, he can feel some tension leave his shoulders when he says it.
“What?”, the crease between James’ eyebrows is even deeper now, eyes almost disappearing behind them.
“You utter prick, arsehole, cunt, idiot”, he continues, words flowing out of his mouth before he can do anything about them, not that he particularly wants to, “Jerk, fucker…”, he comes to a stop, no insults in English left, “you… you stupid… WICHSER !”, he finishes his rant, slightly out of breath.
“What?”, James asks once more, there’s a bit of a lost puppy in him, he blinks, “I’m a stupid what?”
“Wichser”, “he replies, much calmer now.
“What’s that?”, there’s something Regulus doesn’t even attempt to place swinging in his voice.
Regulus rolls his eyes before turning away again, looking back at the pile, searching for the year 1555.
1555? What? No. that can’t be right.
It’s silent between them then, but something in the air, keeps Regulus from concentrating on those stupid numbers, he can only listen to him breathe a few feet behind him.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In.
Out.
It’s a bit like music, beautiful uneven music.
In. Out.
In.
“This is not acceptable, we can’t be expected to work like this!”, it sounds decided.
Out.
In.
“Hello?!”, Regulus doesn’t acknowledge the words, he waits for the out again.
Out.
There. It was quicker this time, more anger flowing out of the other’s body.
James inhales sharply, In, “Fine then! You freeze to death in here.”
There’s rustling, James’ breaths too quiet to hear, as he gets up and stomps towards the door, it opens, and falls shut seconds later.
It’s quiet, no breaths breaking the silence this time. He misses them almost. They were a nice addition.
Now, only a faint ticking of the clock returns to taunt him.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
It gets faster.
Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
He can’t breathe. So, he doesn’t. Just listens to the clock ticking until it’s one high-pitched noise, shrill and bright, echoing through his ears over and over again.
James doesn’t return.
---- James ----
“You can go now, Mr. Potter”, Slughorn voice dismisses him just when he’s sure the floor is going to fall apart after all the scrubbing he did, “for your health, you better have a sweater with you tomorrow.”
“Yes, professor”, he gets, grabbing the bucket of dirty water.
“Just leave that there, I’ll take care of it”, the professor interrupts, he nods, “What are you waiting for? GO!”
He glances to the door, “Regulus is still in there”, he mumbles not dying to be on Slughorn’s bad side.
“And since when is that your problem?”, it’s sharp.
“Sorry”, he forces out, stumbling towards the door and pulling it open, “See you tomorrow, Professor Slughorn.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Potter.”
The door closes behind him and he lets out a sigh, why is he still so scared of him? He’s a 7th Year!
But, of course, he knows why. Shaking his head, he makes his way back to his dorm.
-
“There he is!”, Sirius greets him when he slips into the warm room.
“How was detention with Slughorn?”, Peter’s voice pipes out from behind his bed curtains.
He only groans, throwing himself on his bed, a warm chuckle hits his ears.
“Don’t be a baby, Prongs”, Remus laughs.
“Yeah, don’t whine”, Sirius chimes in, falling down next to him, his arm hitting his elbow roughly, he grunts.
“I’m not whining”, he replies, sitting up and flicking the boy next to him behind his ears, “God, the next few weeks are going to suck .”
At least you get to see Regulus- , a small voice inside of him chimes up, he strangles it until it fades away.
“That sounds a lot like whining, Potter.”
“Well, excuse, if I’m not on the roof celebrating that I’m allowed to clean out Slughorn’s freezing storage room for the next few weeks!”
But you’ll see Reg-
“No way, that old one with the thousands of papers?”, Peter gapes from somewhere.
“Yes”, he forces out.
Sirius laughs beside him, still lying on his bed, “Moony!”, he calls towards the bathroom, “Come out of there, I need you to laugh at James with me!”
“You are a bad friend”, he points at Sirius, a small smile fighting its way on his lips.
Sirius clicks his tongue, winking at him, “Come on, don’t discredit me. I’m mediocre”, he looks away and towards the bathroom door again, “MOONY!”
“SIRIUS, I’M KIND OF BUSY!”, is all he gets in return.
“What are you doing”, he grins, still only towards looking the closed door, eyes sparkling dangerously, “Wanking?”
“Would you leave me the fuck alone if I said yes?!”, Remus shouts, voice slightly quieter now.
James grins, watching Sirius jump up and run towards his bed and pull out his wand, signalling him to be silent with a haste hand movement.
“Probably not”, he sighs, “I’m giving you one last chance to come out.”
“FUCK OFF”, another reply, slightly muffled by what James guesses a toothbrush.
“Then you leave me no other choice”, he raises his wand, casting a spell and the door folds together with a loud clack before evaporating into the air. A surprised high squeak leaves the bathroom and Sirius covers his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle his laughter, turning away from the bathroom, wand falling to the ground.
James has never heard that kind of sound before, so high pitched like a little pig, he bits his lip, fighting his laughter away, not looking for starting a war with Remus, because an embarrassed Remus is an angry one.
But then Sirius looks at him, eyes tearing up, face red and he can’t hold himself back anymore, he dissolves into laughter, hearing him do the same.
His sides ache, waves of laughter taking over his body again and again, and every time he thinks he’s got it under control, Sirius meets his eyes once more and they are panting on the ground again, clutching their hips for dear life.
James even thinks that Peter has joined from behind the curtains, quietly at first, but Peter has a tell, he starts hiccupping, so soon their laughter is joined by little hicks which sound awfully a lot like Remus’ squeak. They are calm for a few seconds and Remus steps out of the room.
“HAHA”, Remus says, “Incredibly funny.”
Just looking at him is enough, and James tumbles back into his bed, feeling tears leak out of his eyes. Eventually they do catch themselves, sigh and wipe away the tears, faces glowing, smile still stretched across their faces broadly.
He didn’t trust himself enough to look into Remus’ face, so he just kept his gaze on the ground.
“You’re all utter pricks”, he says.
Utter pricks, utter pricks, prick, prick, prick.
Then he remembers the weird syllables that Regulus screamed, he looks at Sirius, ignoring Remus.
“Hey Sirius?”, he has already slipped into his own bed.
“Hm?”, he replies.
“What’s a “Vicksar”?”
“What’s a WHAT?”, the answer comes instantly, amusement and shock in the tone.
He sighs, rubbing over his forehead, “Don’t make say it again”, he groans.
His head pokes out from his bed, looking James up and down once, “Do you mean ‘Wichser’?”
“YES, oh my god! That’s it! Do you know what it means?”, he exclaims, excitement taking over.
“Yes”, he frowns.
“Well, what does it mean?!”, his voice carries something urgent, he can’t help it, he has to know.
“James, it’s basically just wanker in German.”
Oh.
Something stings in his chest; he shakes his head. It’s stupid. But he can’t deny the disappointment swelling in his chest, he can only ignore it.
“Who told you that?”, Sirius asks, looking even more confused now.
There aren’t a lot of German speaking people in this school, actually there are only two really, or there are only two good enough to be able to insult in it.
“Your brother”, he says, frowning now too, “Regulus”, he adds as an afterthought, he isn’t sure why.
“Yes, I know his name, thank you very much”, he snaps, James watches as he slips behind his curtains.
“Wait, you talked to him, James?”, Remus cuts in, not saying his name because he isn’t as dumb as James.
“We have detention together”, he admits, raising his eyebrows at Remus who makes a grimace and turns away.
It’s silent for a moment, no one really sure what to say, if there even is something to say or if they’ll just abandon this topic and let Sirius pretend his brother away once more.
It stays quiet until Sirius sighs, pulls the curtains open and speaks, “You poor sod, now I get your moping”, weak chuckles break through the air and all tensity leaves the air as quickly as it came.
James doesn’t reply, not sure if agreeing and disagreeing would both be a lie.
Peter gets up from his bed, walking towards the bathroom, before groaning and turning to Sirius, “Padfoot, please give me our door back, I want to shower.”
He chuckles but raises his wand, opening his mouth but no sound comes out, his eyes widen slightly.
“Sirius?”, Peter asks again, turning to him with raised eyebrows.
“Fuck!”, he says, lowering his wand, “I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean “you don’t remember”?”, Peter’s voice is shrill.
“I don’t remember, Pete!”
“Fine!”, Peter gives up too easily, he always has, he gathers all the strength and anger still residing in him, “I’ll go into the communal bathroom, but that door better be back on its hinges before I get back.”
He storms out of the door, slamming the door and all three of them know that he won’t be angry when he gets back.
“Sirius, put the door back”, Remus says, his voice still a bit irritated from the embarrassment earlier, flopping onto his bed, “Congrats, you got Peter to use the disgusting showers, now put it back.”
“Remus. I. Don’t. Remember”, he says, turning to Remus and letting James look at his eyes too now. His bed has always been between theirs. Which allows him to see the anger in his as well.
Still left over from the mere mention of his brother, they are light and dark at the same time, big and tiny, most people shrink down when they look into the rage that plays in them, but not Remus. Those eyes are a residue from the Blacks that will never leave Sirius. James has never mentioned them to Sirius, but he can still remember when he first felt them, how his blood had gone cold, and he wanted to disappear, disappear into the ground, and never speak again.
Surprisingly, they weren’t Sirius’ eyes but Regulus’ that iced him first, that’s how he knows where they come from, they have them from their mother. She has the same hungry eyes, but hers are constantly like that, they never change, always angry and freezing cold. When you look into them too long, you will lose yourself, is what Sirius whispered one night after the summer holidays.
Sometimes even he still breaks underneath the deathly glare, but not Remus, never Remus. Every time Sirius looks at him with those eyes, his own just turn darker and darker, a different dark than Sirius’, James knows that his somehow are still warmer, maybe it’s the wolf inside of him that keeps his body and gaze from going cold, because there’s always dark, hot anger shining in his eyes.
Those eyes are also terrifying because being too hot all the time means that anger spikes through his body faster.
Peter can’t hold against either, but they can hold against each other, they may be the only people who can.
Neither of them is breaking eye contact, no words are spoken, both high from the rage that curses through them, both too proud to back down.
Really, it’s just a door, something that’s fixable quite fast, but not right now.
“Come on, guys…”, he begins, trying to break the eye contact like a desperate parent.
“Stay out of it, Potter”, one of them grits out, or maybe both of them, maybe neither and they didn’t even hear him, James isn’t totally sure, but the message still comes across.
His words did have one effect, they’ve remembered that they can use them too.
“Put the door back”, Remus says, slowly and quietly.
“I CANNOT”, he’s louder but not quite as threatening.
Remus chuckles, cold and hard, “Great. Then find a way.”
“What if I don’t want to?”, Sirius’ hand flexes.
“Do you think I give one fuck about what you want? You did it, you’re fixing it.”
Sirius shrugs, smirk pulling at his lips, “But it doesn’t bother me, Remus , it can stay that way till I’m dead, for all care.”
Remus doesn’t flinch when Sirius uses his name, “I could arrange that”, he fires back instead, and James can feel his mouth flying open. He jumps up.
“Okay! STOP! This is it!”, he dives between them, breaking their glares, pointing fingers first at the one then at the other, “Stop that, both of you!”
They both scoff, oddly in sync, but, of course, neither notice and instead open their mouths to defend themselves, but James cuts in again.
“NO! Quiet. Both. Of. You. We’re all going to bed now, I don’t want to hear another word from either of you”, their mouths snap shut, and they walk over to their beds, grumbling to themselves. James sighs, rubbing his temples, knowing he’ll play Switzerland now.
Remus is almost in his bed when he turns around once more, “He has to fix- “
“NOT. ANOTHER. WORD.”
Remus slips away into his bed, when Peter barges in a few minutes later, both curtains are drawn shut so tightly it can only be magic, he raises his eyebrows, but James only shakes his head and mouths tomorrow.
“Goodnight, everyone”, Peter calls, shrugging when James slaps his forehead and sends him a very pointed look, grinning slightly and waiving before going to bed as well.
Peter knows he won’t be the mediator, because if James is Switzerland, then Peter is the ocean there, always present but merely his beaches are even territory, Sometimes James envies him.
“Goodnight Peter and James”, Sirius calls out from his bed, having apparently moved on to ignoring Remus’ existence.
But Remus was always better at playing that game, “Sleep well, my friends : James and Peter.”
James sighs, falling back onto his bed and groaning.
This is going to be a cold fucking war.