Chapter 3
“You don’t need that much sugar in your coffee,” Evan wrinkles his nose as Pandora tears open a second packet. They’re in a cafe on campus after the studio finally closed for the evening. Usually Dorcas and Barty join them too, but Dorcas wanted to spend some time with Marlene, and Barty had a headache.
“Yes, I do. In fact…” she smirks, getting up from her chair to go get more. Evan scoffs, looking over at Regulus. He’s got his head stuck in a copy of Romeo and Juliet.
“Regulus.” He tries, but no sign of life. “Regulus,” he tries again. Desperate times call for desperate measures he supposes, so he reaches out and swipes the book right out of Regulus’ hands.
“Hey!” He tries to grab it as Evan pulls it away.
“You got your assignment one hour ago. The smell of Mcgonagalls fucking chalk hasn’t even faded yet.”
“I want to be ready.”
“And you will be,” Evan promises, setting the book down on the table in front of him—and out of reach of Regulus, who just glares at him. Evan stares back, blank faced until Regulus finally folds.
“Fine.”
“Fantastic,” Evan grins.
“You convinced him to put down the book?” Pandora gasps, taking her seat next to Regulus.
“I was just getting familiar with what I’m going to be spending the next four months dedicated to.”
“Four months starting tonight,” Evan reminds him, taking a long swing of his coffee. “Until then, spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Summer. What was it like?”A small smile forms on Regulus’ face, and he tries to hide it but Evan’s heart still melts at the sight of it. For a moment his friend just looks happy.
“It was really good.”
“And?” Pandora nudges him.
Regulus rolls his eyes, “it was crazy. We had performances in a new place every night. Sure, afterwords we’d be going to bars, carnivals, live music…but it was intense. It was rehearsals and blocking for a new stage every day. Our tech crew was about as good as that kid who shut the lights down mid-performance first year, and I not once did I have a comfortable nights sleep.”
Pandora: “It sounds like it was good for you.”
Regulus: “I wish my brother thought so.”
Evan: “I still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to him.”
Pandora: “Maybe he’s jealous? It’s kind of his dream isn’t it? Travelling theatre?”
Regulus shrugs, not adding anything further to the conversation. Evan takes that as a hint to change the subject onto something lighter.
After getting everyone else coffee’s, they’re almost back at the castle when they run into James and Remus just as they’re slamming the door to Remus’ beat up blue Datsun Station Wagon.
“We brought coffee!” Pandora calls out, showing off their tray of to go cups.
“Thank fuck,” Remus responds, tucking a stack of newspapers under his arm.
“For the fireplace?” Regulus asks him, gesturing to the newspaper.
“Yeah,” Remus sighs. “Marlene is cold.”
“She’s always cold.”
“So are you,” James smirks, Regulus rolls his eyes in response.
“Fun fact,” Pandora chimes in, “printer ink is actually toxic when you burn it.”
James falters, almost tripping over his own feet.
“Thanks Pandora,” Evan drawls. “I’ll be sure to think about that every time we light the fireplace now.”
“At least it doesn’t smell as bad as Barty’s cigarettes,” Regulus mutters, making James laugh.
“You’re not the one that has to share a room with him,” Evan grumbles. Barty's tendency of craving a midnight smoke has only gotten worse over the years. Last night he’d spent nearly an hour sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the grounds; the lake, the pier, with this look in his eyes. It’s no wonder he had a headache this morning. Evan had tried to ask him what was wrong, but he’d just brushed him off.
When they get into the library, Pandora hands out everyone’s coffees, and Barty takes the newspaper from James and Remus to start the fireplace.
Evan takes his seat at a small table near the window. Out of all the rooms in The Castle, this one is his favourite. There’s something about the old books cascading alongside every wall—crammed into the shelves, piled up on the floor, on tables and empty chairs, as well as the windows overlooking the dock over the lake that make him feel more at home than ever.
Auditions are next week, which means he has to be ready with an off book monologue by then. Not to mention Mcgonagall expects a thorough analysis of act I and II of Romeo and Juliet by this Friday.
By the time Barty joins him, fireplace now fully lit, he can already feel the ache in his hands that will definently be following him in the coming weeks.
“Alright?” He asks, noting Barty’s frown.
“Yeah, just want to get this stupid audition over with.”
“You’ll survive it.”
“Always do,” Barty murmurs with a cheeky grin before turning back to his script, pen in hand. “What speech are you performing for your audition?”
“King Lear, act two scene three, Edgar’s speech.”
“Really?” Barty teases, “My face I’ll grime with filth, Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots—“
“Shut up,” Evan can’t help but smile. “What are you doing then.”
“It’s a surprise,” Barty quirks his head, reading Evan’s notes across the table. “I’m trying something new this year.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that.”
“Being unpredictable.” He moves closer, murmuring it near Evan’s ear. “Have you noticed the roles everyone fits?”
Evan moves a bit away just to look at Barty’s expression. He must look confused because Barty gives him a crooked smile. “By now they have us practically set up for the parts.”
“They?”
“Mcgonagall and Montgomery. I think they’ve known it would be us who would make it through all the years. I think they trained us this way.” There’s a bright glint in Barty’s eyes that leaves Evan a little breathless.
“That’s quite a theory.”
“Think about it, though. James, the dashing hero. Sirius the tragic one. Remus, a consistent voice of reason…don’t get me started on the girls. Lily practically wears the role of the shrew every day.”
“What is it with you and pushing Lily’s buttons today,” Evan reprimands him. “It was hard enough for her to go first.”
“I’m just being honest,” Barty crosses his arms defensively.
“Yeah, well, your honesty is going to get everyone pissed at you. Lily’s our friend.”
Barty laughs, quiet enough that nobody looks up, but if they don’t quiet down soon they’ll probably be banished back to their room. “Nobody in this room has gotten this far in our program because they care about friendship.”
Evan hesitates, because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Barty is right. Everyone left in this school by fourth year has done their fair share of stepping on other people’s toes—pushing others off the stage so they can have centre. Well, maybe except for James. Everyone likes him too much.
“If your theory is so correct,” Evan changes the topic back to the archetypes, “then who’s the villain?”
Barty smirks, “that’s what this year is all about, isn’t it?”
For some reason, those words kill the rest of their conversation, and Evan turns back to his work.
Scene II, Regulus
For the first three days, Regulus has managed to avoid his brother. As always, James has been glued to Sirius’ side, but unlike other times they’ve fought, James makes no attempt to get them to talk to each other. Regulus doesn’t know if he should take offence to that or not, but somehow it feels like a line drawn in the sand. That is your side, James is telling him, and Sirius is on mine.
He knows Sirius wants him to be sorry.
Sorry he took the job, admit to stealing it.
Maybe he did.
But he had to get away.
Besides, now is the time to put the summer behind. Auditions are on Monday.
He can’t say he’s thrilled with the play being Romeo and Juliet. There’s no doubt he’ll get cast for the part of the friar, and maybe some secondary roles. It’ll be a light semester.
Light doesn’t mean easy. And that’s proved to him when Remus comes into their room out of breath and waving around two envelopes.
“Is that what I think it is?” Regulus grabs it from Remus’ outstretched hand.
“We hath been chosen,” Remus grins, collapsing on his bed next to the window.
Their room is tucked away behind the stairs. Definitely the smallest, but it’s the most accessible for Remus, and it happens to have the best view. Right onto the pier behind their house. They're technically connected to the ocean, and if you swam out far enough you'd be there. But it's entirely safe to swim as long as you stay within bounds.
They open their small envelopes silently, and Regulus’ heart stutters when he reads what’s inside.
For the Fall Festival, Friday September 13th, you, Regulus Black, will be playing the part of The Ghost for an abridged version of Act I Scene I,II,III of Hamlet. Report to costuming at 5:30 pm for fitting and a script.
“This is going to be fun.” Remus is grinning when Regulus looks up, eyes on his own paper.
“Did you see who else got them?” Regulus asks.
“Marlene had one, and Mary too.”
“What about James and my brother?”
“If they got cast, they probably picked theirs up already, you know how they are with their morning runs.”
“Horrifically punctual,” Regulus murmurs, re-reading his assignment.
The fall festival is legend on campus. It takes place the third Friday of every term. The best of the best put on an entirely improvised spectacle. Sure, Regulus will memorize his lines, but he doesn’t know who is playing who until the audience has already gathered.
“I’m surprised it’s Hamlet,” Remus says, flopping back on his bed. “It means we won’t be covering it next semester.”
“Then we better put on one hell of a show,” Regulus says, stretching his legs out and reclining back against the wall.
“Hey, can I ask—“ Remus starts, hesitating.
“Ask what?”
“What’s going on with you and your brother?”
Regulus bites his lip, crumples the empty envelope in his hands. “We’re just fighting. What else is new.”
“You’re lying,” Remus accuses, though not unkindly. “I’ve never seen Sirius so…I don’t know, it’s like he feels betrayed.”
“I took his summer job. Travelling theatre.”
“And that would do it,” Remus winces in sympathy. “The twelfth night one?”
“Yeah.”
“How come?”
Regulus almost laughs. He supposes that if anyone would understand, it’s Remus. “My parents…they found out they haven’t been paying for business school in Quebec.”
“Shit,” Remus sits up, not without effort.
“All the money they've given me over the years, and from working over the summer went to my fall tuition. I…don’t know what I’m going to do for winter.”
“That’s…wow. But why take Sirius’ job? I’m sure the Potter’s would have paid for you to—
“You’re the only one I’ve told.” Regulus cuts him off, lowering his voice like there’s a chance they could be overheard. “Because I think someone in our program is the one that told my parents.”
“Wait,” Remus holds up one hand, like he can’t even process it. Regulus has had months of mulling it over, and it’s still a hard truth for him to swallow. “You think someone here…”
“I thought it was my brother,” Regulus admits. “But given how he’s reacted to this…I think I was wrong.”
“No shit,” Remus hisses. “Sirius wouldn’t.”
“And you would know?” Regulus raises an eyebrow, and watches Remus steel himself.
“What he did to me in second year was different.”
“He cut your line,” Regulus argues. “You could have died.”
“He was angry, and he was—he apologized. I’ve forgiven him.”
Remus holds his expression steady under Regulus' glare, so he moves on. “Either way, I thought it was him, so I tried—I don’t know, to get back at him?”
“What changed your mind?”
“He’s…hurt,” Regulus says with some difficulty. Emotions clogging his throat. “If he’d done it we’d have fought already.”
“You have to talk to him.”
“I will,” Regulus says adamantly, “after auditions. If it goes badly, I don’t want it hanging over either of our heads.”
“Okay, after auditions. I’ll do it with you, if you want.”
“I’d appreciate that, but I think I need to talk to him alone.” Regulus gives him a small smile. He glances at the clock, it’s nearly ten pm. “Want me to get your meds from the kitchen?”
“Please,” Remus sighs, flopping back on the bed. “I can feel a fucking flare up coming on. Like…in my bones.”
“At least they pay you for it,” Regulus jokes dryly.
“That is nice,” Remus cracks a smile, but it’s obvious he’s hurting.
He hadn’t told Regulus about his Lupus diagnosis until spring of their first year, nearly eight months into their time as roommates.
Remus had gotten a cold that landed him in the hospital. Before that, sure, Regulus had noticed the rashes and the aches. The unbearably cold hands in the winter. But he didn’t—he didn’t understand until then how painful it was for Remus some days. Since then he’s tried to pay closer attention. Recognize when his friend needs help, even if he’s very shit at it most of the time.
It didn’t help when Remus got injured second year.
Sometimes it feels like they’re all still clawing their way back from that one.
Scene III, James
When James was in high school, he was on their hockey team. He was good. Really good. Theatre eventually won, but for a few years there he did both.
The morning of his audition, it feels the same as when his team made the finales. He even found himself absentmindedly tying and untying his shoe laces before his morning run, something he did with his skates before especially nerve wracking games.
“Are you seriously doing your stupid hockey superstitions right now?” Sirius laughs when James dumps his water bottle out the second time.
“I want the water to be cold,” he shrugs. “And keep it down, Mary’s still asleep.”
A second later her door opens. “No I’m not. It’s auditions day I’ve been up for an hour.” She’s in Winnie The Pooh pyjamas, bunny slippers, and her hair is wrapped in a light pink silk bonnet. In other words, she looks adorable.
Sirius’ jaw drops, “it’s five am, even I had to roll onto the floor to wake myself up.”
“You just don’t have morning person energy,” James says, exchanging a wicked grin with Mary.
“Because you two are insane,” Sirius calls over his shoulder, opening the refrigerator. “We better hurry back Prongs, there’s only three yogurts left and I want two of them.”
He glares at Mary warily who puts up her hand in defense, “I promise I’ll guard them while you guys go on your little walk.”
James rolls his eyes, “Morning runs have really good benefits for concentration, mood, cardiovascular health—”
“James,” Mary interrupts, hands together and narrowed at him, “shut up.”
He just grins, “see you later.”
James and Sirius are halfway around the forest trail—about a half-mile from the castle, when Sirius, out of breath, makes a time out gesture, slowing down by a park bench.
The leaves have started to change, making the forest feel more alive somehow. Soon the temperature will be dropping, but for now the day is already promising to be warm.
“You ready for this afternoon?” Sirius asks, once he’s caught his breath.
“As ready as I can be.”
“Speech?”
“Puck’s finale.”
Sirius nods, contemplating. “Short, spicy, a bit odd. You’re going to nail it.”
“I know,” James bolsters, feeling a bit giddy. “I really think I have a shot at Romeo.”
“They’d be stupid to cast anyone else.”
James bites his lip, “I don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you’re my Mercutio.”
Sirius smiles, “I would be honoured to be your Mercutio.”
They fall into silence. The birds are chirping, and the sun is starting to warm the air around them. They’ve done a pretty good job not talking about Regulus. All summer they basically won a metal in not talking about him. But James gets the feeling if they don’t address this soon, it’ll start to rot.
“Pads, you have to talk to Regulus eventually. Have you thought at all about what you’re going to say to him?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Sirius says, voice hollow. “I just…I’m so angry at him. Like, our parents, they pay for him to come here. Every year. And I wouldn’t have gotten to do this without my uncle, you know? But he's always done his best to...I don't know, understand that it's different for us? This just really caught me by surprise, and he hasn't even told me why. ” Sirius' voice trembles at the end, and James feels his heart break.
“I've never understood it,” James admits. “Why it was such a big deal for you, but not for him.”
“Because he can do whatever he wants,” Sirius says bitterly. “They didn’t have a plan for him.”
"At the end of the day, you got free," James reminds him. "In some ways, Regulus hasn't."
"Yeah," Sirius sniffs, "I really thought he'd left them for a minute. When he showed up, I was so relieved. But then he just--he left again."
“You two have come back from worse,” James reminds him. “And he forgave you.”
Sirius jaw clenches, his open expression retreating back into itself like it always does when James brings up that particular part of their past.
“I’ll talk to him after auditions.”
“Good,” James tries to keep his voice neutral, but truthfully he’s getting really tired of walking the line. Sirius is his best friend. James would walk into fire if he asked him to. But h e misses Regulus. Misses arguing with him about their coursework, and hearing him talk about films James has never seen before. Even misses his judgement when James brings up his ‘terrible’ taste in music.
Hopefully, after today, things will be one more step towards normal.
Scene IV, Mary
Mary loves audition day. Sure, the nerves are terrible, and everyones snippy, but there’s something about having the stage to yourself. An empty auditorium.
For her monologue she’s picked Titania’s speech in act II scene I of Midsummer Nights Dream. Titania has always been her favourite Shakespeare character. She’s witty, queer, and stands on her own. Sure, she loves Oberon, but she knows where to draw the line. Unlike Mary of course, who excels in getting her heart broken.
She can hear Lily’s audition from outside the auditorium. She’s doing Cleopatra’s final speech. Even from afar Mary can hear the emotion in her voice. It’s magical, watching Lily performs. The raw power she’s able to capture on stage. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.
Relatable.
They move past each other in the hallway and Mary just tries not to hold her breath.
Right when she think’s she’s safe, Lily calls out from behind her.
“Good luck.”
Her hand is on the door to the stage. She can’t turn, because what if Lily is looking at her.
“Thanks,” she calls over her shoulder. And when she can’t seem to make herself move forward, she adds, “you sounded beautiful.”
Lily doesn’t have time to say anything before Mary’s thrown open the doors and slipped inside.
The stage is bright, but she can see Mcgonagall and Montgomery in the audience. Half way up, clipboards in hand.
“Mary,” Mcgonagall smiles sweetly. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Mary takes a deep breath, and moves.
Scene V, James
James arrives right on time to see the start of Regulus’ monologue. He’s not technically allowed to wait in the wings of the stage, but he has never been known to follow the rules of the theatre and quietly closes the door behind him.
Regulus commands the space. Montgomery and Mcgonagall watch him with captivated eyes as Regulus holds one arm over his head, keeping his posture rigid, as though he’s desperate for the words he’s speaking:
“These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,”
Regulus casts his hand down, his voice breaking, toeing the line between fear and rage, “But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. The human mortals want their winter cheer. No night is now with hymn or carol blessed.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing the stage in flurry of torment, "Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound:” and Regulus laughs, a broken, chilling thing. Like glass, delicate yet sharp enough to cut. His eyes flick over to the wings, and there’s barely a flicker of recognition towards James’ presence, but his posture changes, growing a bit taller, and his eyes narrow.
“And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter: the spring, the summer, the childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazèd world, By their increase, now knows not which is which; And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension. We are their parents and original.”
Montgomery and Mcgonagall clap, and just like that, Regulus snaps out of it. His eyes clear, and he smiles at them.
“That was wonderful Regulus,” Mcgonagall says. “Thank you for your dedication.”
“It was a stunning performance,” Montgomery adds. “Send James in when he’s ready.”
“Thank you, Professors,” Regulus says smoothly before turning towards James and walking off the stage.
“You did wonderful,” James whispers, smiling at Regulus’ small blush from the compliment.
“And you’re supposed to be in the hallway,” Regulus scolds him, but there’s no bite to it. Regulus turns to leave, but before he can, James is already asking.
“Will you stay?”
Regulus turns back, tilts his head, “you want me to watch you audition?”
“I—“ he seems to have lost all control of his language centres. “Yes. We haven’t…” he trails off. “We usually rehearse together the night before. I just—I wanted—”
Realization seems to dawn on Regulus’ face. “Oh. I—yes, I can stay.”
James gives him a shaky smile, then takes a deep breath, turning away to prepare himself. He knows his lines, but it always takes a moment to gather the spirit of them.
After another minute, professor Montgomery calls his name, and James walks to the centre of the stage.
“What piece are you performing?” he asks.
“Love’s Labours Lost, Act One Scene One, Berowne's speech.” The light may be glaring, but deep in James’ heart, he knows Regulus is rolling his eyes.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Mcgonagall says.
James rolls his shoulders, taking a relaxed stance as he begins. “Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain which with pain purchased doth inherit pain: as, painfully to pore upon a book to seek the light of truth;”
He snaps his fingers, speaking to an invisible audience with as much conviction as he can muster, “while truth the while doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: so, ere you find where light in darkness lies,” he winks in Mcgonagall’s direction, “Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. Study me how to please the eye indeed by fixing it upon a fairer eye, who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed and give him light that it was blinded by.”
He backtracks, turning his tone more serious, the words flowing from his heart. “Study is like the heaven's glorious sun that will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks:small have continual plodders ever won save base authority from others' books these earthly godfathers of heaven's lights that give a name to every fixed star have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and wot not what they are. Too much to know is to know nought but fame; and every godfather can give a name.”
He falls silent, and is met with the sound of his professors and Regulus clapping.
“Wonderful job, James.” Montgomery calls. “Send Bartholomew in when he’s ready.”
James makes his way off-stage, Regulus following. He opens the door to the hall and finds it empty. Puzzled, he looks both ways and sees Barty rushing down the hall, rumpled like he’s just rolled out of bed.
“Sleep in, Crouch?” James laughs.
“Shut it, Potter.” Barty grumbles, pushing past him and into the wings of the stage.
James laughs, but suddenly he and Regulus are alone in the hallway, and the air grows tense.
“You did good, James.”
He leans back against the wall, “Thank you. You know I think you’re brilliant.”
Regulus averts his eyes, “I’m going to talk to my brother tonight. About the summer.”
James smiles, despite himself. “He wanted to wait until after auditions too. Thought it would be less pressure.”
“What I did—“ Regulus seems to struggle for the words, so James waits. “I didn’t do it out of malice—I mean, I knew it would hurt him, but I thought he’d done something he hadn’t.”
Regulus speaks with such earnestness, James finds himself involuntarily stepping towards him. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain it to you later, alright?” Regulus promises, and from his eyes James knows he’s being sincere. “I just need to get him to understand first.”
“Okay,” James agrees.
When Regulus turns to go, James once again calls him back. “It’ll be okay again. I know it.”
Regulus gives him a thin smile and goes, leaving James alone in the hallway, the echo’s of Barty’s audition the only thing filling the space.