act II - VII
The band’s rehearsal studio was dimly lit from the remaining late afternoon light, the papers and posters scattered across the Hallow office table seeming extra crowded. James was casually strumming his guitar, wracking his brain for a new melody that Barty was subconsciously trying to match it with drumsticks against the glass table. Peter scrolled through his phone, a frown settled on his face.
Remus cleared his throat, bouncing his knee. Sirius, leaning against the amp, nudged him with his boot. "Go on, love," he murmured.
Remus sighed, running a hand through his curls before looking at their friends. The ten of them had been exceptionally curious for an invitation to the Hallow by Remus and Sirius, knowing it could mean anything. “So, uh… we have something to tell you.”
James immediately put his guitar down. Being the wingman of both boys, he knew each of their sides to their relationship, or lack thereof. He swallowed his knowing grin. “Oh? What’s up?”
Sirius grinned, reaching for Remus’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “We’re together. Officially.”
There was a beat of silence before James and Lily simultaneously shot up from their seats, chairs clattering against the wall. James clapped a hand on Sirius' back, a wide beam splitting his face. “NO WAY! FINALLY!” Lily, on the other side of the new couple, launched herself at them from Remus' side, pulling them into a crushing hug that James soon joined. “You absolute idiots, I’ve been waiting for this moment forever!”
Remus laughed, patting James’s back while Sirius dramatically wheezed. “Mate- need- air-”
James and Lily released them with a chuckle, pulling each other in for a hug behind them after. “This is the best news ever. My best friends are in love like they should have been ten yeats ago. This is like, poetic, man.”
"Disgustingly poetic," Sirius teased, but his face was alight with happiness.
Even Peter had lifted his gaze from his phone, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line, fingers gripping the edge of the couch a little too tightly. Being around them in school for all that time, he had been part of a few of these conversations so it was a little strange for him to be less excited than some of their newer friends.
James, oblivious, slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders when he realized he had only done it to Sirius so far. “I mean, this was obvious. You two have been making heart-eyes at each other for years. About time.”
Sirius smirked. “Told you, Moony. We weren’t as subtle as you thought.”
But before Remus could respond, there was a loud thud. Peter had stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Peter muttered under his breath.
The room tensed. James frowned, his joy dimming slightly. “Pete?”
Barty and Evan gave each other a look. They knew what was about to happen and were unsure if it was a good or bad time for the truth to come out.
Peter shook his head, scoffing. “This- this is just great. This band is supposed to be our priority. But no, of course, now we have this to deal with on top of all of your baggage.” He waved a hand vaguely at James for the end of that sentence in a way that made a pit form in James' stomach. Regulus followed the them outside of the office and lightly placed a hand on James' shoulder after hearing Peter's statement.
Sirius’s smile dropped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Peter grabbed his jacket, his movements sharp and agitated. “This changes everything, don’t you get that? The fans, the label, how do you think they’re going to react?”
Remus felt his stomach twist but he kept his voice controlled and firm. “We’re still the same band, Peter.”
“Are we?” Peter’s eyes flashed with something unreadable yet again. Mostly his usual anger, frustration, something deeper. “You two being together. It’s just going to make things messy. Complicated.”
James stepped forward, his voice firm. “You’re out of line, man.”
“Am I? You’ll see. When this blows up in our faces, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Peter let out a harsh laugh that sounded so unlike him it made all of their friends come to the door as well. Everyone stared in horror. “You don’t get it, do you? You guys just made yourselves unavailable.”
Sirius blinked. “Unavail- wait, hold on. That’s your issue?!”
“Yes, that’s my issue!” Peter threw his hands in the air. “Half our appeal is that there's three young, hot, single guys. Whether you like it or not, you are a boyband. The fans want to want you! They want to imagine being with you. And now? Now they’re just gonna see you two making heart eyes at each other instead.”
James let out an incredulous laugh. “Mate, you do realize most of our fans have been shipping them since forever, right?”
Sirius smirked. “Yeah, have you seen our Twitter mentions? The fan edits, we have our ship name hashtag.”
“That’s not the point!” Peter shouted, his face red with frustration. “You think the label is going to be thrilled about this? You think the industry is just going to embrace this? You’re delusional! You write love songs, this will ruin us!”
Remus exhaled through his nose, his patience wearing thin. “Peter, people like us for our music, maybe our personalities, not because they think they have a shot with us.”
Peter shook his head violently. “That’s naive. Do you know how many bands crash and burn because of this kind of thing? If you want to stay in the band, you keep this quiet.” His eyes burned into them. “Or you’re out.”
Sirius froze, his smirk gone. James’ jaw tightened. Remus just stared, stunned by how easily Peter had said it.
Sirius was the first to break the silence, his voice eerily calm. “You’re seriously telling us to lie about who we are?”
Peter folded his arms. “I’m telling you to be smart.”
James took a step forward, eyes dark with anger. “And I’m telling you that if you’re choosing some outdated, bullshit marketing strategy over your best friends, then you’re the problem. Not them.”
Peter’s face twisted. “I’m trying to protect this band-”
“No, you’re trying to control it,” Remus said sharply.
"I'm the manager!" Peter burst, yelling loud enough most of their friends flinched. He let out a short breath, looking between the three of them. Then, as if something had solidified in his mind, he shook his head. “Fine. If you’re not gonna listen to reason, then I hope you’re prepared for what comes next.”
With that, he turned and stormed off down the hall, leaving behind only the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor.
James exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, that was a load of shit.”
Sirius let out a low whistle. “Guess we’ll be needing a new manager.”
Remus exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders as he turned to Sirius. “Are we really doing this?”
Sirius grinned, lacing their fingers together again. “Damn right we are. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
-
The tension hadn’t faded hours after the group returned from lunch. Most of them had gone home afterwards, leaving the Marauders to figure things out. James was pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair, while Sirius sat slumped across the worn-out couch, bouncing his knee. Remus leaned against the amp, arms folded, still processing what had just happened.
Then the door creaked open.
Evan and Barty stepped in, their expressions serious. “You guys good?” Evan asked, glancing around the room like he could still feel the leftover heat of the argument.
“No,” James deadpanned. “We're supposed to sumbit this album in under a week. As terrible of a manager, we need him. But if we got him back, he wants Remus and Sirius out of the band.”
Barty let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, that’s rich coming from him.”
Sirius sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
Evan and Barty exchanged a look before Barty sighed. “We weren’t gonna say anything unless it became relevant, mainly because he threatened up, but I guess it’s relevant now. A few weeks ago, Pete pulled us aside. Said he was 'done' with the band.”
Evan nodded. “He was ranting about how he wanted to leave managing entirely. Said he was ‘the Marauders’ and that he was ‘done taking and working for clients.’” He made air quotes, sneering at the stupidity of the boy. “We figured he was just bluffing, but then he said something weird.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Define weird.”
Evan hesitated, then glanced at Barty, who exhaled sharply and nodded for him to say it, “He straight-up told us that he was cutting you guys loose. And if we told anyone, especially you guys, he would make our lives living hell and make sure you guys never got another gig.”
Silence.
Sirius blinked. “Excuse me?”
Barty nodded. “Said he's got better things to do.”
James let out a low whistle. “Well. That explains a lot... That little rat-”
“Wait,” Remus interrupted, his brain already moving a mile a minute. “If that’s true, then he might have actual plans in place to sabotage us that he'll now put into play. We need to check his office.”
Sirius cracked his knuckles. “Oh, hell yes. Break-in time.”
Peter’s office was a mess, papers scattered across his desk, coffee cups piled in the corner, sticky notes with scribbled numbers on the walls. His office was room inside of their group office that no one was allowed inside. None of them had ever questioned his privacy even though they knew the code was just his birthday. Sirius immediately started rifling through his desk drawers, James checked the filing cabinet, and Remus took his laptop. Within minutes, the pieces started coming together.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” James muttered, yanking out a thick folder. “This dude’s been planning this for months.”
Sirius peered over his shoulder. Inside were notes, contracts he hadn’t sent, meetings he’d canceled without telling them, an email thread with the world tour company where he declined their requests to book things.
Remus, meanwhile, was scanning the laptop screen. “Guys. He’s been feeding rumors to the press.” He turned the screen around, showing a document titled "Controversies to Leak" with bullet points under each band member’s name.
1. James
- Impulsive
- Unreliable
- Cracks under pressure
2. Remus
- Irritable
- Potential health issues- bad for touring?
3. Sirius
- Arrogant.
- Constant drama.
- Liable to break the band apart
Sirius’s jaw clenched. “Oh, hell no.”
“Wait, there’s more,” Remus murmured, scrolling down. At the bottom was a section labeled, "Exit Strategy"
- Announce departure by end of year.
- Secure new job with mob.
- Leave band in chaos. Ensures no strong comeback.
Silence fell over the room. James was the first to move, snapping the folder shut. “We’re firing him. Now.”
Peter was halfway to his car when they caught up to him in the parking lot. He barely had time to turn before Sirius slammed the folder into his chest. “You’ve been real busy, haven’t you, you little rat?” Sirius said, voice dangerously low.
Peter paled. “Where did you-?”
James stepped forward. “So, you were gonna leave anyway. But instead of just quitting like a normal person, you thought, Why not completely ruin my best friends’ careers on the way out? As if you didn't spend over a decade building this job up just like us.”
Peter’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked between them, realizing there was no way out of this. “You don’t understand-”
“Oh, I think we do,” Remus said coldly. “You were sabotaging us. And for what? Out of spite?”
Peter shook his head rapidly. “No, it wasn’t-”
“It was,” Barty interrupted, arms crossed. “You admitted it.”
Evan smirked. “Oh, and by the way? You have cameras. The ones you insisted on setting up years ago.”
Peter’s face went from pale to red in an instant. “You broke into my office? That’s illegal!”
“So is sabotaging your own band, oh yeah- not to mention joining the mob?!” James shot back.
Peter’s lips curled into something between a sneer and a desperate plea. “Fine. If this is how you feel, then I’ll save you the trouble.” He pulled his keyring from his pocket, yanked off his studio key, and threw it at the ground.
“You’re all idiots,” he spat. “This industry is gonna eat you alive, and when it does? Don’t come crying to me.”
Sirius took a step closer, eyes burning. “You were never our friend, were you?”
Peter faltered for just a moment. Then he scoffed. “Whatever. I’m out.”
Tires rolling and crunching over gravel filled the air soon after. Remus ran a hand through his hair. “We should probably call the label. Let them know he’s gone.” Sirius nodded and all but collapsed into his arms with a mixture of relief and discomfort.
Barty nudged Sirius. “So. You and Remus. Couple goals, huh?”
-
The studio was quieter than usual, trying to fall into a new routine that wasn't all that different from before, but it sure felt like it. The band had been going non-stop for hours, trying to put together the final pieces of their upcoming album now that Peter was gone.
They had most of it, eight solid tracks, polished and nearly ready to go. But they needed four more. Four original, powerful songs that could pull everything together.
James sat in the corner of the studio, his notebook open in his lap, the page still agonizingly blank. He tapped his pen against it, his leg bouncing restlessly. Sirius was working out a melody with Remus, their quiet discussion filling the room, the three of them trading off between debates over production tweaks. Everything was moving forward, except James.
His chest felt tight while he though to himself. You need four songs, James. Four. You’re the songwriter. It’s your job to bring it home. The more he thought about it, the worse it got. His mind raced, what if he couldn’t do it? What if the songs weren’t good enough? What if he wasn’t good enough? His breathing turned shallow, his vision narrowing. His hand clenched around the pen so tightly it hurt.
He needed air.
James bolted up from his chair and mumbled something about taking a break before slipping out of the studio. The cold night air hit him like a slap, and he took a shaky breath, leaning against the wall of the building.
“James?”
The voice was soft but firm, and James knew exactly who it was before even looking up.
Regulus Black stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. He wore a thin green sweater, his silver rings glinting in the dim light against his dark hair.
James swallowed hard. “Hey, Reggie.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong?”
James let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.”
Regulus frowned. “Do what?”
James ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands slightly. “The songs. I need to write four more, and my mind is just blank. Nothing. I don’t know how to pull it off. And what if they’re bad? What if I ruin everything?”
Regulus was quiet for a moment, then said, “James. Breathe.”
James blinked at him.
Regulus took a slow, deliberate breath. “In,” James hesitated, then copied him, inhaling deeply. “Out,” Regulus said. James let it out, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Regulus rolled his eyes. “You always do this.”
James scowled. “Do what?”
“Doubt yourself when you’re literally the most annoyingly talented person I know.”
James huffed a quiet laugh. “Annoyingly talented?”
Regulus shrugged. “Yes. It’s infuriating. But it also means that you’re going to write those four songs, and they’re going to be good, because you always do good.” James stared at him, something in his chest uncoiling at Regulus’ steady confidence. Regulus sighed, stepping closer. “Stop overthinking it. Write whatever’s in your head. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it’s terrible at first. Just write.”
“Just write.” James bit his lip, nodding slowly. "My songs aren't always good. I got rejected like eight times on making this album.
Regulus rolled his eyes again but squeezed his hand briefly. “You do realize that you didn't get rejected because they were bad songs, right? They just didn't fit in with the album. You could release a solo album with those and it would work just right.”
James exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re ridiculously attractive when you’re being all wise and supportive.”
Regulus gave him a deadpan look. “James.”
James smirked. “What? It’s true.”
Regulus shook his head, but there was the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Go write your damn songs.”
James chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
-
An hour later, James sat on the floor of the studio, his guitar in his lap, a half-written song sprawled out in his notebook. It wasn’t perfect yet, but the melody was there. The lyrics were raw but not too raw.
Sirius looked up from the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Got something?”
James grinned, strumming a chord. “Oh yeah.”
Remus leaned forward. “Let’s hear it.”
James took a breath, thought about Regulus, and played. And just like that, the music came pouring out.