Consequences

                                                                                           ₊·‧͙⁺˚*･༓⭑-𖤓༺☼༻𖤓-⭑༓･*˚⁺‧͙·₊  

James Potter- Early November

James Potter walked around the grounds, settling on loitering next to the greenhouses.

He felt much calmer there. Quiet- as long as the younger years left the mandrakes alone. It allowed him to think. Which, if James was utterly frank, he never had much time to do.

The only downside was the smell. On a bad day the greenhouses would reek of dried herbs, the ‘hemp’ students had been sneaking in as of late. Sirius called it ‘pot’, claiming it was a ‘cool new muggle thing’. Initially, James didn’t see the appeal- the fetor of hogwash and body odour. 

Though, he never really fully understood those sorts of things, the slang and vices of the non-magical world, though he loved finding out about them. Muggle studies had always been a good class for James, and an interesting one at that. But at first, he couldn’t understand what compelled them to roll up leaves and smoke them. 

Sirius had asked if he wanted to try it a few weeks prior, it was early November- the last remainders of autumn heat mellowing as twilight began to peep through the horizon.

He hadn’t wanted to at the time.

Though perhaps he should’ve. Remus allowed the boys to huddle around him- a little tin placed between his fingers, laced with metal spikes, much like the coffins of vampires he had read about as a child. Remus would sit there, grinding down dried, skunky leaves. Sirius would watch intently, trying to remember exactly how Moony had done it.

He’d then carefully take pinches of the herb, holding out a brown piece of thin parchment, Remus called it a ‘skins’, though James never understood why. Perhaps it was the colour? The paper had never looked as ‘skin’ would. Moony laughed when James asked about the name, replying easily, ‘It’s just what we call it’ . Very simple, really. 

When the leaves filled down the paper in a straight line, Remus would tightly roll it- licking the edges and sticking them together. He would then close off the side, turning it in a coil. Until it almost looked like a long sweet, only half wrapped. James saw how Sirius blushed, focused entirely on watching Remus lick the edge of the paper. James saw how Remus watched Padfoot hold the joint, two fingers closed together to hold it straight- taking wand in one hand and whispering ‘Incendio’ as the sparks lit aflame- the smell releasing upon the breeze. Remus looked at Sirius as if he was precious, as if he was the flame itself. Delicate. Remus seemingly fearful, hesitating, as if he pushed too hard on the tip, Sirius would catch his hand and burn him. Or, even worse, wither and flicker to ashes.

He only wished his friends would notice it themselves.

Both of them were completely hopeless, and as they sat there, stoned out of their minds, spouting declarations of love, 

“I love the sky moons, I love James and quidditch and you and Peter, I love your wolf. ”

James couldn’t help but pray both of them would one day see it too. 

The reason he regretted not just accepting the handout- was perhaps spurred on by the way he saw Moony and Padfoot interact. They would look at each-other, as if nothing else existed in the world. As if they could live a lifetime in the other’s presence, without outside influence. Something he would only see when both Remus and Sirius were either high or pissed. He just wanted somebody to look at him like that.

James was only a little jealous.

He turned, to see another student, sitting on the patches of grass that scattered around the greenhouse.

James found his thoughts leaking away, completely dissipating as soon as he lay eyes on the thin boy. 

Regulus Black. 

The very sight of Regulus allowed James' heart to ache with a deep and inexplicable mourning. There was something about Regulus that drew him in, like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was the intensity in his eyes as he inked words into that godforsaken journal of his. Or maybe it was the pain that seemed to ebb from him like a river, clashing and struggling as it flowed from Regulus’ very body.

Despite Regulus' cold demeanour, James couldn't shake the feeling that he was in desperate need of help. James had always found himself generous with empathy. He would not stop till he had achieved that which he wanted, though he himself, didn’t really know what ‘that’ particularly was.

The sun would shine down on Regulus’ blazing storm, his struggling river. Until the storm calmed, until the river warmed. Until Regulus would talk to him. 

Regulus was a challenge. James always did like a challenge.

And so, he had tried to reach out to him time and time again. He had waved at him in the hallways, attempted small talk whenever possible, and even feigned a need for help with Astronomy, despite being near top of the class.

 Regulus wasn’t even a 7th year yet, though James was coming to the dawning realisation that Regulus was probably smarter than him. He had caught a glance at the adolescent’s charts once, way beyond the work of a 6th or even 7th year. Of course Regulus was an emerging prodigy. After all, his star symbolised the coming of Spring itself. 

Regulus was materialising further with every interaction, every mumble and glance- the boy but a bud, a wildflower, idly passing time till the summer, awaiting its blossom. James sat afar, watching eagerly, as a child would, only able to guess what he may form, what flower may bloom.

But Regulus had rebuffed him at every turn, brushing him off with curt words and cold stares. James couldn't understand why. Was it something he had done in the past? Had he pissed off Regulus in some way without realising it?

The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Regulus Black was a puzzle James was meant to solve. 

And so, he began to study him, watching Regulus from a distance, trying to piece together the boy. Melding bits of his personality together like glue- taking every interaction into account. Even attempting to recall the brief words Sirius would input now and again. Although, he didn’t really say much about his brother. It was certainly a sore spot for Padfoot. 

When James finally felt as if he had begun to understand, stuck together the pieces to create some semblance of a grasp on Regulus Black. He would do something unexpected, and the fragments would fall to the ground like cards. Allowing him to realise that perhaps, the glue had never stuck to begin with. 

Even further than that, the part that really scared him. Was the fact that James felt as if he began to notice Regulus. Really notice him.

He noticed the way Regulus held himself, with a rigid posture and guarded expression. He noticed the way he seemed to shrink away from attention, as if afraid of being seen. And he noticed the way he looked at his brother, Sirius, with a mixture of longing and resentment.

James watched as Regulus continued to write in his journal, his expression remaining impassive as ever. He wondered what was going through the younger boy's mind as he scribbled down his thoughts. James knew what it was like to keep things bottled up, to keep a guise of strength when inside you were falling apart. He couldn't help but feel a connection to Regulus, even though they presented their facades completely differently.

As James approached, Regulus looked up, his gaze meeting James' for a moment before quickly looking away. James took a deep breath, trying to keep his nerves at bay.

"Hey Black, mind if I sit here? the greenhouses smell like shit." James asked, gesturing to the patch of grass next to Regulus.

Regulus shrugged, not bothering to respond. James took that as an invitation and sat down next to him, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees.

"So, what’ you doing?" James asked, trying to make conversation.

Regulus didn't reply, instead returning his attention to his journal. James sighed inwardly, reaching over to take a look at what he was writing. His hands grazed Regulus’; only for a second. Regulus snapped his hand back, as if the mere touch of James burned him. 

Regulus looked at James as if he had personally offended him.

“Trying to take my Journal again, Potter?”, he sneered. 

James raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "No, no, I was just curious. I didn't mean any harm."

Regulus scoffed and turned back to his journal. There was a moment of tense silence before Regulus finally spoke up. "Potter," he asked, looking almost exasperated, "what do you want?", he paused “Again?”.

James cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous under Regulus' intense gaze. "Just wanted to say hi, Black. You know, make conversation," he said, trying to sound casual.

Regulus raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Conversation? Since when do we have anything to talk about, Potter?"

James shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I don't know, I just figured it's a nice day out and we're both sitting here anyway."

“I was here first, you just keep on harassing me”, Regulus answered- pulling at the sleeves of his blazer, causing it to crease at the edges. James wanted to press his hands to the fabric and smooth the lines out, but that would probably be considered inappropriate.

“Nope, just keep bumping into you on coincidence, no harassment here”, James replied with a mischievous smile. Regulus almost could believe it was ingrained into his features.

Regulus stared at him for a moment, then finally seemed to relax slightly. "Alright then," he said, returning his attention to his journal. James took that as a sign to continue the conversation.

"So, what are you writing about there?" he asked, gesturing to the leather-bound book in Regulus' lap, “Anything juicy?”.

Regulus hesitated for a moment, blushing, then seemed to decide to indulge James. "It's just a journal," he said, his tone still guarded. "I like to write down my thoughts sometimes."

James nodded, his face softening, not wanting to push too hard. "I used to keep a journal too, when I was younger," he said, hoping to find some common ground. "It's a good way to sort through your feelings, you know?"

Regulus looked at him sceptically, but James could see a flicker of interest pass his eyes, it was fleeting, but still. "Really? What did you write about?" he asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice.

James shrugged. "Anything, really. Quidditch, classes, girls I wanted to snog...you know, normal stuff." He grinned at Regulus, hoping to make him smile. "Maybe I'll show you sometime."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but James could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I doubt that," he said, but his tone was less hostile now.

“Oh but I would Regulus”, James answered, testing to see whether or not he would be corrected. Maybe Regulus would force him to call him ‘Black’ again. 

But he never did.

“Really?”, Regulus asked sarcastically, “You’d show me” “A journal full of James Potter’s deepest thoughts, why?”, he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re hardly deep thoughts, I don’t think I can really have those”, James lied.

Regulus chuckled, dawn contouring his face and cheekbones- skin like milk poured in honey, “Evidently”.

James couldn’t help but gawk, ‘ had Regulus always looked like that?’, ‘How in Merlin’s name have I not noticed?’ .

“Maybe just because”, James replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Regulus looked at James as if he was the biggest idiot one could ever see.
“Just because?”, he repeated, dumbfounded.

“Yup” James affirmed, an air of confidence surrounding the boy as he stretched his arms and yawned ” just because I feel like sharing them.”

“You’re a strange man James” Regulus said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How’d you think I became mates with your brother?”

“Oh god, now it all makes complete sense.”, Regulus muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.

“A friendship that knows no bounds”, James added, his tone teasing.

“Stupidity does enjoy company”, Regulus quipped, a small smile forming on his lips.

James chuckled, “Well mate, I’m sitting with you now, aren’t I?”.

Regulus couldn’t help the small grin that played on his lips, he tossed his head back to look to the sunset- attempting to throw the smile with it, “Shut it Potter”

“You can bloody well make me”