the first crack in the glass
It went on like that for a while. James and Regulus would find time and sneak away into the woods to spend time together. They’d watch the autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place. They’d share jokes and stories and hopes and dreams.
“Please.” James started one night. “It’s not too late, Reg. You can still leave them.”
Them. The Death Eaters. The wrong side of the war. All of it. The Black family.
“I’ve told you, Jamie, it’s not like that. It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is!”
“Isn’t it?” James argued. “There are things I can’t tell you and I hate it. I hate that you think you’re stuck when you’re not!”
“I am stuck!”
“Spell it out for me then,” said James, “because I clearly don’t understand.”
“I’m gonna end it, James. I can end this war.”
“How?”
“I’m telling you things, all right? I’m telling you things that I want you to tell others. Tell Sirius. Tell whoever we-” Regulus paused. “Tell whoever the Death Eaters are fighting. Tell your people.”
“WE?”
“That’s not what I meant, James.”
“It’s what you said.”
“But I-” Regulus didn’t get the chance to finish.
“I think I’ve heard enough tonight.” James stood up from the blanket they shared atop the leaves of the forest floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”