My Jamie

At three pm, Peter calls. 

“Fancy some takeout from Jordies?” Peter’s cheery voice clashes with the feelings churning through James' body. He holds the phone in place for a moment, sighing. Peter knew they had the day off together, which means he’s somehow aware Regulus got called for a mission. 

“Reg told you, did he?” 

“Maybe, doesn't mean we have to talk about it.” He speaks curtly, leaving no room for James to argue. “I’ll be there in twenty, put the kettle on will you?” 

James spends twenty minutes staring at the kettle, watching it boil. He knows Peter meant to give him a task to stop all his ruminating, but it doesn’t keep his mind from running wild over every thought about where Regulus is. What he’s doing, or if he’s safe. 

He always promises Regulus not to do this. Promises himself too. Every single fucking time. 

But isn’t that what humans do? When they’re powerless to help someone they love?

He can’t keep Regulus safe. He can’t know where he is, or what he’s doing. But James can be scared for him. He can sit, and worry, and rip himself to shreds over what is happening to his boy. 

 Days like this…it's like all he has of Regulus is the fear of losing him.

No one gets to take this part of the job away from him. 

No one gets to tell him to stop being afraid. 

When Peter knocks, James lets out a breath of relief and opens the door to find his friend smiling, holding up two bags of takeout. 

“Do you know where he is?” Peter asks as they sit to eat. James shakes his head, cutting apart a piece of french toast– somewhat more harshly than he needs to.

“He got a message from Dumbledore, that's all I know.” His voice is more bitter than he means it to be, but he can’t quite find the nerve to be sorry for it. Hasn’t he earned the right to lash out  every now and then? He’s not half as bad as Sirius is with Remus before the full moon.

“Mate,” Peter sighs, sitting down next to him. “I know you–”

“You don’t know anything about this,” James snaps. His words silence his friend, water drips in the sink, cars pass outside, and James can’t quite catch his breath.

It's a long moment before Peter carefully places his hand over top of James’. Like he’s trying to calm a wounded animal. Maybe that's what James is, without Regulus. A wounded, rabid dog who bites at anyone trying to get close. It honestly reminds him of what Regulus was like, way back when he and Sirius first fled to the Potters. 

“You don’t know,” James repeats. “I don’t know. Nobody knows where he goes, or what his deal with Dumbledoore really is, and he comes back fucking broken Pete.” He can hear his voice bordering on frantic, “he comes back fucking broken.” 

“And you help him, James.” Peter rationalises. “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I worry too…and I can’t help him the way you can.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “So you fall apart now, alright? But when he’s back, you need to be functional.” 

Functional. Not put together, not okay. 

James has always liked Peter's understanding of that. Sirius is uncompromising. He can’t push stuff to the side in that way. If he falls apart, the edges are too jagged to place together, even temporarily. It takes the rest of them to hold him up, and they do it until they can figure out how his pieces fit together again. Remus holds everything too close to himself. He hides the damage until the collapse leaves a permanent impression behind his eyes. But Peter? He seems to know all the right ways to pull at James’ pain. Leaves it neatly stacked until James can sort it all on his own. 

He does it for all of them, really. 

Regulus is like that too, James realises. But the reminder only allows a new wave of nostalgia to take him. He forgets sometimes how close Regulus and Peter are. It makes sense, they have the same sense of humour. And in a way…they both grew up shrinking themselves. For Regulus, it was because of his parents, and well, not intentionally of course, but because of Sirius. How bright he can shine. How quickly he can burn up. 

As for Peter, James knows the world made him feel small. And James has done his best over the years. Made sure to hold as much space as he can for him, all the marauders have. Still, Peters never talks about home–or anything really, to anyone other than Regulus.

“I just love him so much,” he finally says after a long moment of quiet. 

“I know, Prongs. Me too.” Peter smiles, and James feels himself returning one. 

“I wish we could get married,” James admits. “Bloody Ministry, all this work we’re doing for them and they won’t even let me marry the love of my life.” He means it as a joke, but maybe there's a bit too much truth in it, because Peter sits back and crosses his arms. A bit of mischief in his eyes. 

“You know what Prongs, no one can really stop you from getting engaged, can they?” There's a small smirk on his face, and James laughs. A bit broken and wet, but he laughs. 

“Well I guess you’re right on that one,” James sniffs. Peter stands, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. 

“Where are you going?” James isn’t proud of how whiney he sounds, and judging from Peter's face, it had been a pretty good impression of how Sirius does his puppy dog eyes. 

“We’re going ring shopping, obviously.”

-

Half an hour later, and with a short floocall with the other two, James, Remus, Sirius and Peter are standing in an old ring shop tucked in the corner of Diagon Alley.

“James, are you sure this is the right place for a ring?” Sirius asks, running a finger along a (barely) dusty display case. 

“Yes, Pads,” James assures him. “This is where my mum got a ring for my dad. Call it superstition, tradition, whatever. But it’s gotta be this store.” 

“Look Pads, free booze,” Remus drags him over to a desk with a display of various gold rings. They sit in the–quite comfy looking chairs if James is being honest, and pour themselves a glass each from a crystal decanter.

Sirius offers one to James as well, but he turns it down.

Sirius shoots him with a look, but James merely rolls his eyes. “I want to stay clear headed, is that a crime?” He turns back to the display in front of him, which holds what looks to be about three dozen nearly identical rings. All with silver bands and green jewels cut in different shapes.

They all look the same to him, but Regulus…gods, he’ll never hear the end of it if he chooses the wrong one. James smiles slightly at the thought before glancing around. Other than a charmed record player, which fills the air with something sounding vaguely french, and a sleeping man at cash, the store doesn’t seem to have any employees around. 

James shivers, they’re on their own with this then.

He moves over to the desk the others are gathering around, and looks at the trays there. "Okay, how hard can this be,” he mumbles and pulls out one with simple gold bands and red jewels cut into about five different shapes. He grabs one at random and holds it up to the boys. 

“What about this one?" He’s met with a small laugh from Remus, and a growing smirk on Sirius’ face. Well, apparently it is more complicated than he predicted.  

"You want Regulus Black, posh, cold blooded, murderous, Regulus Black to wear gold? With a ruby? Gods, you are such a gryffindor.”

“Oi, so are you mate.” James shoots back, cheeks growing a bit hot. He nearly drops the ring while placing it back.

"I love you, James, but honestly if I’m going to let you marry my brother you’ve gotta at least get the ring right. " Sirius chimes in, pouring himself and Remus another glass from the crystal jug on the side table.

"Prongs, do you actually know what you're doing?" Peter quirks his mouth in a way that says he definitely knows James doesn't have a clue how to shop for an engagement ring.

“I know what I’m doing, and you’re not letting Regulus–”

“Okay, okay,” Remus sighs, placing his glass down. “So, it needs to be silver, obviously, what sort of gem do you think he’d like?” 

“I don’t know,” James shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “Something dark? Blue, maybe?” 

“Or black like his soul,” he hears Sirius mutter before Peter nudges him in the ribs. 

Half an hour later, they’re no closer to finding the right one. Sirius surprisingly knows the most about rings, spouting some shite about Regulus needing a marquise cut. Whatever that means. Besides, at this point the other three are all too drunk to pay proper attention to the situation. 

James sighs and stares at a group of diamond rings. The worry seems to crawl back through his skin. He can’t quite shake the feeling of wrongness of the whole situation. It wasn’t like he expected to goengagement shopping with Regulus, but all the time they’ve been doing this, his voice has been in James’ head. Even with the bloody ruby he can see the way Regulus would wrinkle his nose at it. Or how he would grimace at James nearly dropping some, apparently priceless, piece of jewellery. It’s even better knowing how Regulus finds his clumsiness secretly endearing. 

Even the sheer thought of where he could be right now is starting to set James’ teeth on edge. It makes the room grow hot, and his skin crawl. He’s on the precipice of turning and walking right out the door when an airy voice speaks behind him. “Ah, yes, that’s quite a lovely set.” 

James turns and standing a bit too close over his shoulder is a woman with thick round glasses, curly hair tied up in some sort of complicated looking bun, and a dress made of about fifty different shades of blue. 

“Is it?” he flusters, heart still beating out of his chest.

“Oh yes,” she steps past him to get a closer look. “Call me Sybil dear,” it seems to be mindless, but then she looks up with a scrutinising expression. He shifts uncomfortably, it's like her eyes are reading into his soul. “I don’t think these are the right options for you, though. Follow me,” she turns and James gives a quick glance at Remus, Sirius and Peter. Remus and Sirius have absorbed themselves in some debate, and Peter is listening intently though it looks as if he doesn’t have a clue–which he probably doesn’t. Those two speak a different language sometimes. 

So, James follows Sybil. 

She pulls aside a purple curtain James hasn’t noticed in their time there, and beckons him though. He follows, somewhat convinced this is how he dies, but the sight of the sideroom leaves him breathless.

The walls are painted with naturescapes that almost look alive. Like he could walk right into them and be in the wilds. Maybe you could. Either way his first thought is Regulus would love this place. James swears he can feel the breeze of the cliff sides painted onto two of them. Though there’s no lights on the ceiling, the room seems to be awash with sunlight. 

“Here,” he glances to his left to see Sybil standing over a glass display case much like the ones outside. James walks over, still in awe, and looks at the rings. Unlike the ones outside, these have thicker bands, and instead of one gem each, they all have different, intricate patterns wrapping around them. One looks as though it contains waves to the ocean, but upon closer study, the colours etched in the metal design are sapphires, weaving and flowing like water. The waves are flawlessly natural. It all comes together to create an almost alive piece of art. 

“I think your suitor would find these more enjoyable,” the girl smiles at James, and he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. It’s truly remarkable magic.

“How are these even made?” James' voice sounds as in awe as he feels. The girl's smile widens, “call it a trade secret. It’s an old idea of a friend from my school days,” she points to one in the far left corner and James’ heart almost stops. “This design took me ages to perfect, bloody constellations are so specific.” 

It's a smaller ring. Not quite as thick as the one with waves. He picks it up carefully, like it could shatter if he touches it the wrong way. 

The ring feels as smooth as glass despite the almost midnight colour, shining with hundreds of stars. It wasn’t just blackness, though. James could feel the heartbeat of their whole universe in there. It's the same sky as the one above their heads, he’s sure of it. 

“Marvellous, isn’t it?” Sybil casts a quick lumos, and a ball of light hangs over James so he can see the intricacies even better. 

James doesn’t exactly pride himself on being well versed in astronomy, damn, Regulus could probably name every single one of them, but a specific set catches his eye. 

“Is that–” James turns the ring a bit. “Is that the Leo constellation?” Sybil comes a bit closer, and after a moment of concentration, nods. James nearly laughs in delight. He touches the ring delicately with his other hand, “It’s perfect.”

 A lump rises in his throat, excitement fading a bit into overwhelm. Like some unknown emotion seizing him unexpectedly. Maybe he’s just scared, or reminded of how much he loves Regulus. Maybe it's both, gods it's probably both. 

Deep down, James knows it's going to get worse. The war, Regulus’ missions. He isn’t an idiot. Back when they were sixteen, Regulus cut a deal with The Order in exchange for his safety. Even if Regulus doesn’t share all the details with James, The Order doesn’t just take people's word on things. Whatever Regulus does, it’s helping them win. And James hates it, he really does. But gods, is he ever proud of him. 

“I’ll get that in a nice box for you dear,” she goes to take the ring from his hand, but her fingers barely brush over his skin before she snatches her hand back, inhaling sharply. 

James looks up and is met with a shocked expression on her face. 

“Are you alright?” he tries to ask. She doesn’t respond but flinches away from him when he tries to touch her hand. James fights the urge to apologise, and instead pulls a chair over from near the doorway for her to sit on. Her eyes follow his movements, he watches her touch a shaking hand to her throat, and pull it away as if she expected blood. 

“Why don’t you sit for a sec?” James suggests. Sybil nods, and takes a seat. James moves to stand on the other side of the counter in case him being close makes anything worse.  

After a moment, she seems to come back to herself. “Sorry about that,” she sniffs, he realises there are tears in her eyes. “Don’t know what came over me,” she shoots him an apologetic smile and stands, holding her hand out for the ring. 

He places it in her palm delicately, and watches her grab a ring box from a drawer under the display, a small chill running down his spine. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he repeats.

“I’m alright,” she stands with a complicated expression on her face. He can’t quite identify it, but she isn’t meeting his eyes anymore. “I just–” she cuts herself off, shaking her head, “it’s nothing dear, don’t you worry about it.” 

James eyes her a moment longer, but she really does seem okay now. He pays for the ring, and takes the box from her hands, moving a bit slower than he normally would. She laughs at his cautiousness, but something about it sounds a bit sad. 

He turns to leave when she calls him back. “James,” she hesitates, “He’s going to love it,” there's weight to her words. James smiles, but by the time he reaches the purple curtain, it occurs to him, at no point had he mentioned his name, or that his partner was a he. It’s possible she could have heard it from the guys. She could just be more open minded, but that bit is less likely. He turns back around, but Sybil’s nowhere in the room. Figures.

James takes one last look at the landscapes, it’s so beautiful here. The sun has begun to set over the sea, and a gentle breeze blows through the towering oaks. James swears he can taste it. Smiling to himself, he heads back to the guys.

“You found one then?” Peter questions, and James nods, holding up a black ring box. Peter is the only one left awake, Remus is dozing with his head on Peter's shoulder, and Sirius has his head down on the desk. 

James smirks at Peter, and drops the ring box down right next to Sirius’ face. He wakes with a start, blearily looking around before spotting the small case. “Careful with that, I will not have you giving my brother a broken ring Potter.” He mutters, voice rough with sleep. He shakes his head once as if trying to wake himself up fully.

“Oh so I’m Potter now, am I?” James jokes.

“Obviously,” he drums his hands on the glass, “I’m meant to intimidate you.”

“Oh yes, very intimidating. I’m right terrified of you,” James deadpans.

“Lets see it then,” Remus grabs for the box, but James snatches it back.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head. “Nobody gets to see it until Regulus does.” The others complain behind him, but James swaggers out of the shop with the other three grumbling behind him all the way back to the portkey.