The beauty and the buyer.
The beauty and the buyer
Holding the crumpled paper to his chest, James sighs. Bottle of bourbon lying empty beside him, staring endlessly up at the bare canvas of the ceiling.
Is it possible to mourn someone you know still lives? Still breathes, heart still beats in the same tune as one's own?
The grief is overtaking, guilt a friend James has become accustomed to.
It all happened so fast yet slow enough to have been avoided, if he had only been faster, better, maybe his love would be here in his arms rather than what remains.
*
"Mr potter, we understand you have been rather occupied lately but your fathers place has to be taken up eventually"
James huffs, slumping down in his seat and running a hand over his face as he stares up at the elder. Since his father died, James has quickly realised the burden that is running a country. He wants nothing more than to hear his father's voice once more, for his assistance through this.
But he can not have that and he is now the king and has responsibilities. The only thing pulling him through is knowing that his love awaits for him once this is over, that they'll climb into bed and melt into one and others embrace to sleep, despite the others empty protests.
Regulus. His star.
The moment he saw him something within him had changed, the empty space in his heart filling so rapidly he thought he had gone into cardiac arrest.
Making a complete fool of himself at trying to get the other man's hand, and he would've done it again and again at the minuscule smile, breaking through the scowl, that Regulus gave him.
The memory brings a smile to his face, clasping his hands together as he stands and flashes a trade mark grin to the older.
"I assure you, all will be dealt with soon." He says smoothly then bids his goodbyes.
Shoes clicking on the marble floors of the castle, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach with each step he takes.
Most likely just anxiety, it never really leaves him alone lately. Swallowing it down and continuing. All will be well once he's with Regulus anyways.
Busying his mind with thinking of what the other may be doing. Perhaps drawing or noting down the constellations again?
He opens the door with a flourish, smile faltering as he's met with nothing but a chill.
"Regulus?" James calls as he walks further in, eyes flickering around the room.
The sinking feeling makes itself more evident now, screaming at him along with the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
"Regulus?" A bit more frantic this time, throwing off the bedsheets and checking every corner of the room.
Nothing. Nothing but a small piece of paper hidden by the windowsill.
Picking it up with shaky hands james opens it. A sketch of the room but a scribbled mark over it, as though disrupted or surprised. Or ambushed. At the corner of page is a familiar cursive, displaying the words.
'the deathly hallows. my love, always. RAB.'
*
Which is how he finds himself here. Moping in his misery as he goes over a thousand times what he could've possibly meant. Regulus wouldn't have written it for no reason.
He tore every inch of his room apart in hopes of more answers, upon finding nothing choosing to bend over a desk for hours on end. Again, nothing.
His eyes only just slip shut when someone enters, immediately sitting up and on alert.
"Regulus?" He breathes out, shoulders slumping when it's only Peter.
He gets a sympathetic (pity) smile as Peter walks further into the room, careful not to tread on any discarded peices of furniture.
"We have word, James, from across the seas" Peter states, a flicker of hope in his voice that makes James stand fully.
"They say they knew who took King Regulus."
James almost collapses, swallowing and feeling a burn behind his eyes as he takes a cautious step forward. As though this is but a lie and the slightest mis movement will make it all blur.
"And?"
"The deathly hallows, they seem to be an organisation led by King Riddle." Peter finishes, voice trailing off nearing the end.
Tom Riddle. Known for his brutal methods of getting what he pleases, known for his rising army and status.
To be known as the one who was murdered by James Potters hand, if he has any say in it. Feeling the rage he tries so hard to burn out rise within him.
Usually James isn't accustomed to anger, it being a foreign feeling he tries to avoid. Choosing rather to be empathetic and think logically about what's right in the situation.
But right now he wants nothing more than to sail straight to Riddles island and have him beg for the mercy of death, but he knows that'd be foolish, it'd only get himself killed before he could ever see his star again.
"Form our army, we sail in two days." James decides, nodding to himself.
"Where to?"
"If we plan on having any chance of defeating Riddles army, we have to do it with the right allies. Set a course to Phoenix, we're visiting an old friend."
Peter nods and leaves, doors closing behind him with a soft click and leaving James to the silence, thoughts quickly filling that in.
An energy thrums through him, anger, guilt, regret,
longing.
Longing for Regulus to be with him, longing for his father to be at his side, to help him with this. He'd know what to do, He'd probably have stopped it before it'd even happened.
True to his word, in two days time an army of loyal soldiers was formed. Ships upon ships, carrying the finest, ready to sail across the seas.
Bidding his goodbyes to his mother, assuring she would be safe until he was back, and also to his people, to his home.
He doesn't know when he'll be back, if he'll be back. What is known is that James will not be back without Regulus by his side, without his star back in his rightful place.
Now, as he stands tall at the head of his ship, waving as his island falls further and further into the fog, he finally understands why the gods went through such lengths to try save their loves. For you never truly get it until yours is ripped away from you, until you realise what a privilege love is and how far you'll go to keep that privilege. So,
off to Phoenix they sail.