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Chapter Text

The sky is cloudy the night Regulus goes to the cave.

The water crashes against the cliff face like his thoughts in his head, with too many coming in rapid succession to let him make any sense of it.

Aged five, his back straight against a wooden chair as his father tells him about the Dark Lord he will grow to serve.

Aged ten, his mother's fingers press bruises into his wrists as she tells him he's the only hope left for the family.

Aged fifteen, his parent stop calling him by his name; there's only the runaway son and his inadequate replacement.

Aged sixteen, he's the youngest Death Eater in history.

It's been a long year. 

His parents are proud of him, which is everything he's ever wanted, and despite the obvious nature of the dark mark, it's brought about a lightness in him that he's never truly found before.

All it took was the sight of ink under sleeves and a scathing comment from Sirius to curdle that feeling quite nicely. 

"I can't believe you're really one of them,"  he had said, with derision dripping from his voice.

His parent's praise hasn't felt the same after that.

People like him don't get second chances; all he can do is lie in the bed he made for himself, but he hasn't slept in weeks.

The night is dark. The sky is cloudy. Regulus goes to the cave.

It feels oddly mechanical, the way he rubs his blood against the wall to ensure that the door stays open before stepping onto the boat and watching as the ripples on the lake disperse before they can reach the island where the water is still.

An eerie calm surrounds him as he reaches for the goblet by the basin and begins to drink, trying to get the locket.

The first glass goes down easily.

He's coughing after the second.

He forces the third down his throat, swaps out the locket, and then all he can focus on is the tingling in his body, the spinning in his head and the racing of his heart.

The exit of the cave looks so far away; he didn't think this through. He needs to leave, but he's just so goddamn thirsty.

He reaches down to the lake for a quick sip until the water reaches back and swallows him whole.

Skeletal hands wrap around his limbs while his fingers scrabble desperately against the rocks, but no matter how hard he tries to fight the inferi, he knows he's losing. His wand is long gone, and the locket he came for rests around his neck like a noose. 

He's flailing on the surface, eyes fixed on the exit of the cave still open and waiting for him until a bony hand tightens around his ankle, his head slips below the waves, and everything turns black.

Because the sky is cloudy, nobody notices as a star disappears.

~~~

Regulus gasps awake and is throwing up violently before he can take a proper breath. Litres upon litres of water are being expelled from his stomach, and when it's over, he's left sobbing weakly and brushing off imaginary hands as he tries to figure out how he's back in his bedroom and, more importantly, how he's still alive.

He's slumped back on his bed with his head pounding from the nausea and confusion when his door swings open. The sight of his parents' silhouettes illuminated in the doorway makes his heartrate spike with terror.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, please," he begs mindlessly, not even sure what he's asking at this point, just knowing that he's been too loud and he's disturbed them both and god, he's been punished enough tonight, so please don't –

"Oh darling, are you ill or did you have a nightmare?" his mother asks softly, as she vanishes his sick and sits on the edge of his bed, which makes Regulus jolt out of his haze, breath hitching as he stares like he's never seen her before, because, what?

Why is she asking him this? Why is she asking him anything? Where are the curses? The locked doors? The punishments?

"Reg, darling?" she asks again, resting the back of her hand against his forehead, and he can't help but flinch pre-emptively until she's pulling him in for a hug, which is nice and would be almost comforting in another situation except it's from his mother. His panic is back, and he's pushing her away to scramble back to the far corner of his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, feeling lost and confused. "What's happening? I don't understand. Just hit me and get it over with so I can go back to sleep and –"

"Regulus Black!" his mother gasps in horror. "Where are you getting these ideas from?! You're sick; you've had a nightmare. Why on Earth would I punish you for that?"

"Because that's what you do!" he cries out, his hands gripping his head as he tries to make sense of everything because he doesn't know what game his mother playing, but the only way to survive in this house is by being two steps ahead.

He can't figure out why she would be so happy either when her sanity started slipping the moment Sirius left.

"Where is Sirius?" he blurts out, looking around frantically even though he knows he's long gone and asking will only get him punished. "Where's Sirius? Is he here? He's not, is he?"

"Sirius is asleep in his room," his father calls from the doorway where he'd been watching the conversation, but now he's coming closer, his entire face etched in concern. "Regulus, did you hit your head? Do you think you might have a concussion or just need some dreamless sleep?"

They're too nice, and it's too weird, and he doesn't know what to do, so he reverts to his basic instinct and calls for the only constant he's ever known.

"Sirius," he screams, his tears returning in full force. "Sirius, help, please. Sirius!" 

He ignores his parents' fretful murmuring to each other and disregards their attempts to come near him. All he can focus on are racing footsteps as his brother comes through the doorway, crawls onto his bed and then looks wide-eyed between his parents and Regulus, who is still crying and calling for him.

"Reggie…?"

"I don't know what's happening, Sirius," he cries out in distress. "I don't know what's going on, I just know you," but even Sirius isn't normal because he hasn't got the scar on his neck from his father or the burn on his wrist from his mother, and he looks younger and his voice his higher and Regulus doesn't know what's happening.

His panic grows higher, and his breathing gets faster, so when his father holds out a bottle of dreamless sleep and instructs him to take a sip, Regulus doesn't hesitate.

When he next wakes up, it seems like things are back to normal as he hears Sirius arguing with his parents until he listens to what they're actually saying.

"Sirius, your brother had a bad night. Just give him some space while he wakes up," his mother keeps repeating.

"No! If Reggie is upset, then I want to help him! Let me see him!"

"You can see him when after I've made sure he's alright –"

"But I want to see if he's alright; he's my brother!"

Then his father, cutting in with a soft "let him stay, darling. Sirius, your brother will be okay, but be gentle, okay?"

The conversation only worsens Regulus's headache as he tries to piece together what he knows. He's in his room. His parents are by his bedside. His brother is sitting at the foot of his bed.

None of it makes any sense.

He rolls over to try and block it all out until he feels his mother's hand on his shoulder, the touch far softer than it's ever been but still seared into his brain, and he lurches out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom and locking the door while he tries to figure out how he got here.

He doesn't even know where to begin.

A knock sounds out at the door, making him jolt in fright, hitting his elbow on the basin, and he can feel his mother's presence outside, inexplicably knowing it's her. He's waiting for the door to be burst open and for the crucio to be cast, and for the routine to finally go back to normal, but all she says is a quiet "Have a shower and wash away the night, darling, and we'll see you at the dining table," before she walks away.

She walks away.

His mother has not once left him alone when he's needed it, and Regulus has the fleeting thought that he's going insane, which is only made worse as he reaches for the soap, looks at his left arm and sees it bare.

There's no dark mark. 

There's also no burn on his wrist, scar on his knuckle, or half-healed cut behind his ear, but he knows that his parents aren't something he could've ever dreamt up.

He doesn't know what's happening.

He turns down the shower temperature and prays that the cold water shocks him into some form of consciousness, but when his skin turns purple and the shivering begins, he has the horrifying thought that maybe this isn't a dream.

This realisation does nothing to help him figure out what's happening.

His parents are kind and are waiting downstairs in the house he's lived in for sixteen years but barely recognises.

He feels small and unsure and borderline hysterical, but Sirius is here, so at least he isn't afraid.

Regulus holds onto that thought, walks out of the bathroom and finally goes downstairs.

Everyone at the table is talking quietly amongst themselves as they eat, but the conversation dies at once as Regulus walks in and gingerly sits down at the empty seat. He's staring at the homemade placemat in front of him that his real parents would sooner burn than set on the table, and he's so lost in his head that he physically jolts when his father scoops some fruit salad into his bowl and passes him the yoghurt.

"It's your favourite, right?" he asks rhetorically with an encouraging smile, and Regulus nods wordlessly, stabbing an orange and staring around his childhood house at the artwork with his name on that he doesn't remember painting and family photos where Sirius is smiling in every single one and a calendar on the wall that shows todays date.

25 August 1976.

Regulus' brain short-circuits. 

It's 1977. The calendar must be wrong. It's August 1977. He knows it's 1977; there's no reason that it wouldn't be 1977 except –

Except Sirius is here. He hasn't run away yet, and he still looks sixteen. 

As implausible as time travel is, it explains how Regulus is here, but not why his parents are actually being parents or why Sirius isn't locked in his room and screaming at his mother.

He stabs at another slice of orange, pushing it around his plate and zones into the conversation as Sirius speaks, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"James can always come here, right? If he needs to?" he's asking fretfully. "Just because he's only sent me one letter over the summer, which means his parents haven't let him send more, and he says he's fine, but he said that last year when he had a fight with his dad, and then he came to school with a fractured wrist and –"

"That can't have happened. James's parents are nice; they smiled at me on the platform," Regulus interrupts before he can stop himself, but Sirius only frowns at him while his mother gives him a reprimanding look.

"No one ever knows what really goes on in families behind closed doors," she says gently, which makes Regulus let out a hysterical laugh before a thought occurs to him that forces the air out of his lungs.

"Are you saying James' parents hurt him?" he asks Sirius, his voice wobbling slightly while his breaths become shorter.

"Yes, and I'm doing everything I can to get him to stay with us," Sirius replies resolutely. 

"And he hides it?"

"He tries," Sirius says darkly, "but it's not easy to hide broken ribs and a black eye on your first day of fourth year."

"Was his knee fractured, too?" Regulus asks, his nails desperately digging into his thighs, praying it's a no –

"How the fuck did you know that?" Sirius snaps, even as his eyes betray his surprise, but Regulus doesn't reply because everything has finally slotted into place. 

He knows what happened to James because it happened to him first when he limped on the platform to start his fourth year with glamours hiding the way his parents chose to say goodbye.

Except they aren't his parents anymore.

It's August 1976, Regulus is fifteen years old again, and he's swapped parents with none other than James Potter.

Chapter Text

What would James Potter do?  Regulus thinks as he lies in bed, stressing about his new life and everything that comes with it.

Should he stay in bed until school starts, or should he pretend everything is normal?

What would James Potter do?

Should he run away or stay to face everything head-on?

What would James Potter do?

This is his new strategy for getting through the confusion of his new life; however, it's also the one thing holding him back because he barely knows a thing about him. Regulus has spent his whole life loathing him for stealing his brother, the animosity covering his deeper feelings of jealousy and self-hatred, and it isn't until now that he realises that he's never actually looked at James before.

He knows his parents hate him, and he's his brother's best friend. He loves Quidditch and Lily Evans, and is frustratingly nice to anyone and everyone.

And that's it.

But James Potter is also the opposite of Regulus in every way; untouchable, unattainable, admirable, so his new life motto of what would James Potter do is really just a nicer way of saying what wouldn't Regulus do.

The first thing James Potter would do in the morning is get up, have breakfast, and talk with his nice parents in his nice house with the open windows. 

He rolls over only to immediately jump backwards as he feels a leg next to him and then sits up properly to see Sirius fast asleep in his bed, top and tail, just like he used to do when they were kids and Regulus couldn't sleep or had had a bad punishment and was too scared to go to Sirius' room.

It was what Sirius would always do when Regulus needed him but didn't know how to ask.

He can't decide if it's comforting or terrifying to know that one thing hasn't changed but decides it's easiest if he doesn't find out. He crawls out of bed, leaving Sirius to sleep, or he tries to, until he realises his body is smaller than he's used to. He fumbles, jabbing his knee into Sirius' thigh, making him twitch and squint his eyes open, and Regulus freezes.

"Reggie?" he rasps, forcing his eyes open properly. "You alright now?"

The urge to cry comes from nowhere, and all he can think is that he wants his brother, but he doesn't know this version of him. If things have really changed, though, and he does have his brother back, he doesn't want to give him a reason to leave.

"Yeah, just a weird dream. I'm fine now," he says in what he hopes is a believable tone before getting up and walking to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it heavily.

Sirius will be harder to trick but easier to deal with. The thought of seeing his parents again makes him want to throw up, and the fact that they're nice only makes things worse, but he's playing pretend.

He runs the tap to make it sound like he washed his hands and then walks into an empty room, hating how he waits until he hears Sirius' voice downstairs before following him down. Just like yesterday, conversations stop as soon as he walks through the door.

"How are you this morning, Reg?" his mother asks, reaching out for him, and despite his entire body protesting, he thinks what would James Potter do and leans into his mother's embrace. 

"Yeah, I'm better now," he lies. "Just stress, and a bad dream and no sleep," and his mum makes a symapthetic sound and kisses his forehead before letting him go. He manages not to jump in fright as his father ruffles his hair as he walks to his seat and lets the conversation continue around him as he eats.

"Back to school tomorrow," his father is saying. "Are you sure there's nothing more either of you need? You've all double-checked you’ve got enough books and robes?" Regulus is sure that question is directed at Sirius rather than him, assuming that his other self is as pedantic and organised as his current self when his mother laughs and adds, "Sirius, darling, you know that a question for you, not Reg. Have you checked –"

"I'll do it today."

"You're just waiting for your brother to do it for you, aren't you?" she sighs fondly. Sirius only laughs unashamedly, a genuine sound of happiness in their house of horrors, which is the weirdest thing that's happened by far, and then Regulus been dragged by his brother up the stairs and into his room, where there is shit everywhere.  He knows it's not his problem, but it's stressing him out too much since they leave tomorrow, and Sirius hasn't even started packing, so at least this is one thing he can control.

Sirius flops down onto his bed, and Regulus rolls his eyes and grabs the stack of books and starts placing them in his trunk, tucking away a smile, when he hears Sirius huff and push him out the way as he starts putting the books in himself.

"I said you didn't need to pack my trunk for me, Reggie. I said I'd do it later –"

"There is no later," Regulus argues. "School starts tomorrow, and it's either I do it now when I want to help you, or I do it at midnight and argue with you the whole time while you tell me you still have time to do it!"

"Like what you're doing now?" Sirius counters.

"Pack it yourself then," he snaps, dropping the rest of the books on the floor and storming off in a huff, prepared to deal with Sirius hissing some vitriol-filled comment after him, but instead, he hears footsteps follow him into his room, and pause at the doorway, the way Sirius always used to when he was in the wrong and had come to apologise, except again, this hasn't happened since before they went to Hogwarts.

Regulus isn’t in the mood for a fight; he just wants to curl up and sleep and wake up where everything is familiar, although maybe fighting with Sirius would be familiar enough to comfort him slightly…

"I'm sorry," Sirius says quietly, scuffing his feet, which makes Regulus turn to see him frowning in the doorway. "I didn't mean to annoy you. Mum told me not to push too hard, but I did it anyways, so just come back, alright?"

"You talked about me with our mother?" Regulus exclaims, feeling oddly betrayed, but Sirius only looks at him like he’s stupid. 

"You woke up screaming two days ago and still don't seem to have fully woken up," he says slowly. "Of course we talked about you," before adding a quieter "Are you going to tell any of us what happened?"

I died and woke up a year in the past where you don't hate me and neither do our parents, but it’s all stolen from James Potter, he thinks.

"Just a bad dream," he murmurs, and he can see how Sirius clearly doesn't believe him but lets it go.

"Come watch me pack," he says eventually. "I know I'll see you at Hogwarts, but it's never enough; this is the last day I get to spend with you where I'm not missing you the entire time," and firmly ignoring the way Sirius' honesty makes his breath catch, Regulus follows him back to his room and reads off the items on his packing list while Sirius huffs and complains but dutifully shoves everything into his trunk.

It's a nice day, all things considered, because Regulus has spent the past six years just wanting his brother, and all it took was a drowning and some unexpected time magic to bring him back.

The thought that he did actually die and is in heaven crossed his mind for a brief moment until he realised he was undoubtedly destined for hell.

"Would you rather have detention with Filch for a night or McGonagall for a week," Sirius asks in the late afternoon from where he's lying on the bed, and Regulus laughs at how reminiscent of their childhood it all is.

"I just wouldn't get detention at all," he replies, but Sirius only rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, we can't all be the good child, but if you did, what would you prefer?"

"I'd prefer to not get caught," he repeats.

"Just because you, Barty and Evan got away with locking out the Gryffindors from their common room once doesn't mean you're infallible," Sirius rants amusedly. "We've gotten away with way worse, but we had to make sacrifices for smaller detentions so that we have alibis for the bigger pranks," but Regulus barely hears him over the warmth in his chest, knowing that whatever this life brings, he still has Evan and Barty.

"What makes you so sure it was us?" he asks carefully, fishing for more information, which Sirius gives easily as he snorts, saying, "Because Pandora would've thought it was mean, and Dorcas would have been too busy snogging Marlene to have had any time to help you," and when Sirius gives him a smug look and lays back on his pillows, having won the argument, Regulus doesn't reply.

He's confused. He's out of place. He's stuck between two timelines, but he has his brother and all of his friends.

"Boys, dinner is ready!" their mother calls, interrupting his musing, and Regulus instinctively looks at Sirius in alarm, who only mutters a relieved "Thank fuck, I'm starving" before leaving the room and going downstairs, clearly expecting Regulus to follow him.

Since it's Sirius, Regulus does.

Dinner passes easily, and even though he's still wildly uncomfortable, Regulus adapts his what would James Potter do mentality and pretends he's not actually talking to his parents. He pretends they're James Potter's parents who gave Sirius a good home and pretends that he's run away too and is having dinner with them.

"OWLS this year," his father is saying. "Are you worried, Reg, or do you think you have it under control?"

"Reggie knows more than me, and I passed my OWLS fine," Sirius mutters, obviously bitter, but it makes Regulus smile anyway.

"I'm excited for ancient runes and potions," he admits, remembering how they'd been his favourite subjects at school. "Pandora wanted me to take divination with her, but then I would've had to have dropped arithmancy. I'm hoping to take my NEWTs a year early in that class, though, so I kept it, and now we have charms and herbology together instead."

"That's my boy," his father smiles, sounding proud, and it's so foreign, but Regulus can't help the warmth in his chest while Sirius rolls his eyes and mutters, "Yeah, yeah, we can't all be the favourite child."

"We love you both equally," their mother says firmly like this is a common argument, but Regulus can only stare with his mouth open.

This is the first time he’s ever heard her say she loves him. He wishes the words were actually meant for him.

"Yeah, but he's the baby", Sirius replies, gesturing emphatically at Regulus, who zones back into the conversation.

"And you're the oldest," she replies like it means nothing, as Regulus interrupts with an indignant, "I'm fourteen! I'm not a baby at all!"

"Minnie refers to you as my baby brother."

"Does not! And why are you so close with Professor McGonagall anyway?"

"Because I'm her favourite."

"Ew, are you hitting on your professor?

"Am I -? I have a boyfriend!" Sirius exclaims incredulously. "You know this."

"You have a fucking what?" he blurts out, looking desperately at his brother and bracing for the curses and the screaming and the bloodstains on the rug, but just Sirius rolls his eyes again. "What are you even on about, Reggie," he scoffs impatiently. "You're literally gay."

"I'm not!"  he protests even as his heart starts to race, because how does Sirius know that, and why would he dare to say the g-word out loud, let alone in front of their parents –

"The way you look at my best friend says otherwise," Sirius sings out, obviously enjoying his reaction.

"How I – what?! Potter?! I don't –"

"Sirius, stop harassing your poor brother and tell me more about Remus," his mother cuts in with a hidden smile, and Sirius shoots him an innocent grin before chatting away about what Remus has been up to all summer and how excited he is to see him tomorrow after a whole ten days apart while Regulus sulks and thinks about James Potter.

He wonders if he's sat at the table with his parents or if they're shut up in their office while he sits alone in the dark.

Is his mother leaving bruises on his shoulder as she warns him to do well, or is he hiding on the staircase as his parents speak to each other in clipped three-word sentences?

Is he excited to escape the house, or is he terrified he won't live up to who his parents need him to be?

Regulus hates that he doesn't know, and as he sits with his parents and listens to his brother talk about love, Regulus thinks about James Potter.

The first thing he notices on the platform, amongst the chaos, crying, and children, is the complete and utter lack of James.

Each year, Regulus watches with deep-seated jealousy as James makes himself unmissable, waiting under the platform 9 ¾ sign for his friends, and Sirius runs to meet him without saying goodbye, but this year, there's nothing.

He knows Sirius is searching for him too, looking for anyone he knows, and Regulus is doing the same, but for entirely different, anxiety-filled reasons, until eventually Sirius swears quietly under his breath and looks away. After they've hugged their parents goodbye and promised to write, Regulus follows Sirius onto the train.

"You're not sitting with your own friends today, Reggie?" Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he replies without elaborating, and Sirius frowns but lets him follow him to a compartment where they find Remus and Peter, but still no James.

"Nice summer, Reg?" Peter asks, determinedly ignoring how Remus and Sirius have started making out in the corner.

"It's Regulus," he says automatically, which makes Peter laugh awkwardly, not sure how to respond, while Sirius reaches out to hit him on the arm with an exasperated "don't be a dick, Reggie," before going back to Remus. Peter tries and fails to find something else to say.

It's awkward now, Regulus' hidden talent coming out at the worst possible time, and he's about to apologise to Peter, who is still trying to make conversation when the door slides open and in walks James Potter.

Regulus’ stomach drops.

In his old life, Regulus showed up to his fifth year of Hogwarts with a black eye and a bruised body as a reminder to be a good heir after Sirius ran away.

In this new life, Regulus shows up for fifth year unharmed and sees a smiling and laughing James Potter wearing long sleeves in summer with the shimmer of a glamour by his right eye. 

"Excuse me," he says abruptly, rushing out of the compartment, and he barely makes it to the bathroom before throwing up his entire stomach into the toilet, choking on the injustice of the situation while his guilt does nothing to settle his nausea.

He went to the cave to finally do something right for once, to do something good, but instead, he only cursed James Potter, the one person who did everything for Sirius that Regulus could never manage, who is now living out Regulus' horrible childhood with his abusive parents.

And it's all his fault. 

Groaning weakly and promising to do something to make things better, he rinses his mouth out and returns to the carriage, still avoiding his friends and hoping to slink back in unnoticed, but Sirius catches his sleeve as he passes and pulls his head towards him.

"Have you been sick, Reggie?" he asks worriedly, taking in his pale face and sweaty pallor.

"Leave it," he replies warningly, trying to pull his arm away, but Sirius doesn't let him go. "Is this about what happened three nights –"

"I said leave it," he snaps, ripping his arm free and curling up in his seat, staring determinedly out the window and trying to tune out the noise surrounding him. 

He thinks there are eyes on the back of his neck but doesn't bother to check until the feeling disappears with the opening and closing of the compartment door. Then there's a gentle tap on his shoulder, which makes his head snap around to see James placing a box of fizzing whizbees on his lap.

"They're still your favourite, right?" he asks with a lopsided smile. "I heard you weren't feeling well, but hopefully they'll make you feel a little better." Then he sits back down and continues talking with Peter while Regulus stares between him and the box on his lap and the glamour by his eye and stupidly wants to cry.

James doesn't deserve a life like this, but he's retracing Regulus' footsteps, and instead of following them and turning into a resentful puppet for his parents, he's become like Sirius: too good for the world and someone Regulus is entirely undeserving of.

He opens the box anyway, letting the sherbet dissolve on his tongue and James catches his eye and smiles again, obviously pleased.

Regulus only feels worse.

He vows to himself that he will fix things for James and spends the rest of the ride watching him, but besides the glamour, there's not much to notice.

He sees how he picks under already bitten nails, smiles whenever Lily Evans is mentioned, and instinctively cradles his wrist whenever deflecting questions about home.

Looking at James has never felt more like looking into a mirror, and as nausea continues to grow in his stomach when James winces as he laughs and does everything one-handed, Regulus finds it harder and harder to breathe.

"Go find your friends, Reggie," Sirius tells him eventually as he straightens his tie and walks into the corridor. "We're pulling into Hogsmeade now."

Regulus, stupidly, childishly, doesn't want to leave him. 

"Can't I just –"

"Regulus Black !"  he hears in a high-pitched screech before someone collides with him and squeezes hard enough to make him wheeze. It takes him a moment, but once he recognises who the blonde hair smelling of coconut and rosewater belongs to, his entire body slowly starts to relax as he hugs her back and lets her lead him from the train after a quick glance back at Sirius, who seems relieved.

"Dora," he breathes out, so grateful that she's here and is just as he remembers.

"I haven't had a letter from you in four days!" she's ranting as she rocks him side to side. "We agreed on letters every two days, even if one was just a smiley face to know you're still alive and you've missed two –"

"Let him breathe, Dora," Evan says with a huff of laughter as he hugs Regulus quickly before Barty does the same. "You can see he's alive and as happy as he gets now."

"Too good to grace us with your presence, were you?" Barty snarks as they walk across the platform. "Was eight hours of solitude not enough to prepare yourself for nine months of us?" 

"I wasn't alone," Regulus protests before he can stop himself. "I was with Sirius."

He isn't prepared for the raucous laughter accompanying that statement, which seems far too pure and innocent. Evan slides Dorcas five galleons, which she takes with a smug smile before staring at Regulus with a mixture of amusement and pity.

"I hear you spent the whole ride with Potter?" she laughs, and Regulus scowls instinctively even though the truth is more shameful than what they believe.

"I spent the ride with Sirius," he repeats forcefully.

"And your lover," Evan adds.

"I do not have a crush on James Potter!" he hisses furiously, but Dorcas only raises an unconvinced eyebrow.

"Gryffindors don't find denial attractive," she says simply, "I would know," before Barty swings an arm around his shoulder and begins walking with him to the carriages. "Let me tell you how I lost my father the biggest deal of his career last night," he begins, and Regulus, slightly bewilderedly, lets his friends take him to the castle and listens to them recite their lives that he knows every part of but hasn't actually lived.

The main difference he notices is that Evan and Barty don't seem that interested in becoming Death Eaters, even though Evan makes it sound inevitable, but whatever the reason, Regulus still wants to save them from the fraud of the Dark Lord.

The more he lives James Potter's life, the more he begins to understand him, and right now, he's learning just how easy it really is to develop a saviour complex.

There's the sorting and the feast, and everything is so normal that it's oddly disconcerting. Regulus keeps waiting for his dark mark to start burning or for Sirius to glare at him before walking away before he remembers that he has an open future and his brother back.

He still doesn't know what to do with either of them.

He’s expecting something to happen, but nothing does, and it isn't until breakfast the following day that there's an obvious change in his routine. The rest of his time has just been spent messing around with his friends, and even though they're watching him carefully, they're still the same friends he had before the war tore them all away.

He's at breakfast and reading through his timetable, which actually has free periods instead of being filled with extra-curricular papers his mother had signed him up for, and he hadn't had enough of a spine to protest. Now he'll have time off during the day to do his homework, so he's not up until midnight each night and burnt out by the first week. He glares at James with unfair resentment at the fact his parents actually let him live his own life until he sees his white-knuckled grip on his own timetable, and Regulus' anger fades, already imagining the thoughts going through James' head.

Don't let them down. Don't give them a reason to punish me when I go home. Outstanding is acceptable; every other grade is simply punishable.

His friends all notice that something is wrong. Sirius nudges his shoulder softly, and James nudges him back. Remus says something he can't see since his back is facing him, but James smiles anyway. Peter bats away a first-year's hand reaching for the last blueberry muffin and gives it to James instead, which seems to cheer him up until he glances up at the incoming owls, and his entire body stiffens.

Regulus does the exact same thing.

The family owl drops a letter in front of Sirius, whose face lights up as he feeds it a piece of bacon before it flies to Regulus, who unties his letter with trembling hands.

He wants to burn it. Or send it back. Or leave it unopened on his bedside table.

But what would James Potter do?

Regulus plasters a smile on his face and opens the letter.

Our darling boy,

Happy first day of school! We hope the train ride wasn't too long and you've settled back into your dorm nicely.

How are your friends? Did Dorcas enjoy Italy? Does Pandora still need that book on herbal chemistry you mentioned? Does Evan need any potions? What trouble has young Barty gotten into now?

The house already feels empty without you, and we're already counting the days until you come home for Christmas (92 days left!); make sure to write regularly and do your best, and we'll be proud of wherever in life that takes you.

If you need anything, we're always here for you, and Sirius is never far away at Hogwarts.

We love and miss you,

Mum and Dad.

Regulus doesn't have a fucking clue what to do with that, so he folds it up, puts it in his pocket and then looks up at his friends.

"Who else has a free first period?" he asks, letting the conversation wash over him as he looks back at James, who is rubbing his wrist again and shrugging away the hand Sirius puts on his shoulder.

"Loverboy hasn't changed since you last saw him," Barty mutters from his side, but Regulus can't look away from how he's stood up and shrugged off his friends, who all watch him go as he gestures towards the doors.

He has changed. Everything has changed. He'll never be the same.

"That means stop staring, or people are going to notice," Barty hisses, elbowing him in the side, but Regulus can't tear his eyes away from James, his strained smile, and the way he walks out of the Great Hall, even though classes don't start for another forty minutes.

"Reg. Reg. Regulus!"

"I'll be right back," he mutters, ignoring Evan entirely, as he heads towards the doors and stands in the Entrance Hall, searching desperately for James Potter.

It's easier than he thought it would be to find him, purely because he switches his mentality from what would James Potter do to where would I go, and ends up in an abandoned classroom on the second floor, far away enough from the dungeons to not risk running into any Slytherins, but out of the way enough of the main staircase so he won't run into any of his friends. When he opens the door, he sees James leaning against a desk, his right hand picking under his nails, and his left hand still cradled against his chest before his head snaps around and his expression clears, an easy smile appearing on his face as he adopts a more casual position.

"Hey, oh. Reg, what's up?" he asks casually, waving him over, but Regulus can see how he's tracking him, watching how he walks and how close he comes.

Regulus pauses for a long moment, unused to such spontaneity on his behalf, and unsure of what he wants to say.

"Are you okay?" he asks eventually, which seems to surprise James for a moment before he laughs it off.

"Of course I am," he replies easily. "I'm James Potter."

Regulus isn't prepared for how sad a single sentence can make him.

"James –" he begins before cutting himself off as he sees how much James wants him to drop the questioning. He knows James knows that he saw, and he knows James knows he wants to ask, and he knows James is begging him not to.

But he wants to. He so desperately wants to.

"I can fix your wrist," he says instead, gesturing to where his left hand rests on his lap.

"What do you mean? There's nothing to fix," James protests instantly, even as he protectively brings it closer to his chest, but as Regulus continues to stare at him, James sighs, looking conflicted.

"Look, I appreciate that you want to help Reg, but it's really not a big deal. It's not even broken, so a normal episkey won't actually work –"

"Because it's a hairline fracture instead of a complete break, so episkey would be too strong. I know, James."

Regulus thought this was reassuring, the fact that he knew what he was talking about, but it seems to have had the opposite effect as James takes a step back, looking cornered.

"It's fine," he says weakly. "You don't need to -"

"I won't tell anyone," Regulus promises, cutting him off. "I just want to help you. I swear this is all this is."

James doesn’t say anything, clearly warring with himself, but Regulus isn’t going to let him walk away, when he’s so clearly in pain.

“James, please,” he says quietly, holding his palm out in invitation, and James swallows heavily before gently resting his hand on it.

"Intericat episkus," Regulus murmurs. A golden light surrounds James' wrist for a moment before sinking under his skin, and James gasps at the feeling before carefully rolling his wrist and looking at Regulus in wonder.

"It worked," he breathes in awe, touching it gently, and Regulus knows he should go and let James process what just happened, but he's stupid and ruins James' brief burst of happiness with his desperate need to save him.

"I can teach you another glamour too, if you like," he begins hesitantly. "One that doesn't leave traces."

"I don't wear glamours," James denies instantly, but Regulus understands his stubbornness far too well.

"Okay," is all he says, reaching into his backpack and pulling out parchment and a quill. "But if you ever did need one, the dictation is tenet exitum, spelt like this, and it'd last 48 hours before needing to be renewed again; it doesn't leave the tell-tale shimmer." Then he holds out the paper for James to take, who only sets it on the table before gently taking Regulus' hand, stopping him from leaving, and assumably trying to get a promise of secrecy.

"Regulus," he begins seriously, entire face streaked with worry. 

"I won't tell anyone –"

"How do you know so much about healing?" he asks instead, and Regulus' eyes widen, incredibly caught off guard.

"I read," he replies stiffly, pulling his hand free and heading towards the door, but James follows, looking heartbroken.

"It's not just research, though, is it?" 

Regulus can only stare. He hadn't prepared for this and has no believable excuse.

"If you ever needed to talk to anyone," James starts earnestly.

"I don't."

"Right, but if you did, you could always come find me."

"This was about you, not me," Regulus says, gesturing broadly around the room, but James only shakes his head as he watches him leave.

"I think it's about both of us now."

Chapter Text

It isn't until bedtime, after the first day of classes, that Sirius is able to talk to James properly.

Every year, the marauders spend the first night back in the castle having a sleepover, pulling their mattresses into the middle of the dorm and staying up late to celebrate the end of the holidays and the start of the school year.

On their second night in the castle, James sleeps in Sirius' bed, and they stay up far too late talking about how James' summer went and how Sirius really feels. It's not like Sirius has ever had anything terrible happen to him, and it's not like he keeps secrets from Remus and Peter, but there are some things that he tells James long before he's ready to tell anyone else.

James was there for him when he was eleven and was terrified his parents would hate him for being a Gryffindor, and when he was thirteen and wanted to become animagus to help Remus, and when he was fourteen and started having a sexuality crisis and when he was fifteen and it finally clicked that his crisis was about Remus.

James tells Sirius things he doesn't tell anyone else, too, almost like there's a hierarchy.

On the bottom level, there are things everyone can know.

Then come the secrets for his friends.

Then there are Marauder's secrets and things Sirius trusts to his parents.

Then, at the top of the pyramid are the Sirius and James secrets, which range from the purest to the darkest to the most intimate things about each other.

Sirius has never had a diary before, but he has James and thinks that's kind of the same thing.

He lies in his bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling that Marlene bought him for Christmas in second year, until his bed dips, and James casts a silencing charm before turning to look at him.

"Hey," they say in unison before laughing and rolling forward to hug each other, then laying back down as the silence gets heavier.

"Rough summer?" Sirius asks eventually, and James swallows heavily and holds his breath for a few seconds before he exhales slowly.

"They want me to take the Mark," he admits, voice cracking down the middle, and Sirius is very nearly crying too. James is as far away from a Death Eater as anyone can get; he'd rather die than become one, and Sirius doesn't doubt that that's what he'd do if it was his only option left.

"I won't let you," Sirius replies quickly, prepared to do anything to keep James free, no matter the cost.

"I have until my seventeenth birthday in March," he rasps. "Then training starts, and I'll be initiated in the summer holidays. My choices are take the mark or be disowned, and I've already made my choice."

"I'll tell Mum and Dad that you'll be staying with us next summer, but maybe earlier," Sirius replies, thinking out loud. "We've got three guest bedrooms, but you can sleep in mine if you like. I'll have to ask Dad to brew that hay fever relief potion, though, since you're allergic to cats, and Reggie loves his more than anything."

James knew he didn't have to ask, but he was still irrationally terrified that Sirius would say no.

"That'd be good," he whispers, hugging him tightly. "I think you're the only person I could've accepted this from, and if it were you, I would've done the same."

"Yeah, I know," Sirius replies warmly before James asks for a recount of his summer, clearly done with the conversation. After outlining a brief argument with Remus that got resolved within a week, Sirius tells James about Regulus and how he's been off for the past few days, but he still doesn't know what happened.

Nightmares don't leave such long effects, but he's shadowing Sirius in a way he hasn't done in years. He wouldn't be alone for long in the house, wouldn't sit with his friends on the train, and even now during meal times, Regulus always seems to be looking for Sirius like he's worried he'll disappear.

"I just don't know how to help him anymore," Sirius finishes quietly, swallowing down the lump in his throat and feeling like a failure. Taking away being Regulus' brother is taking away Sirius' identity; if not to be his brother, then what was he made for? "I think I'm losing him," he croaks, too tired and worried to wonder whether or not he's catastrophising, but instead of any judgment, James only sits up, looking almost nervous.

"I think I know what happened to him," he admits, voice strained, and Sirius physically jolts before his entire body starts trembling with nerves. Why would James know? Why would Regulus tell him? And why haven't either of them told Sirius yet?

"What?"

"He came to find me this morning when I needed space after breakfast," James begins in a rush to explain. "He saw me having a bit of a breakdown, and then he asked me about my wrist."

Regulus clearly doesn't know the unspoken rule of not talking about James' home life unless he brings it up first. Or unless you're Sirius.

"He wasn't a dick about it, was he?" Sirius replies hastily. "Do you need me to yell at him because I would if you asked, no matter how guilty I'd feel. What did he do, James?"

"He healed it," James huffs quietly, still sounding baffled and holding up his wrist to show the new range of motion. "He recognised what had happened and knew the spell to fix it. Then taught me an advanced glamour because he could see the one on my face."

"He won't tell anyone," Sirius promises, willing James to believe him. "I'll make sure of it; you don't have to worry."

"I'm not worried about that," James replies, voice getting tighter. "I'm worried about how he knows the spells."

"What are you saying, James?" Sirius whispers, looking frightened, and James has apology written all over his face as he says, "I think Regulus is getting bullied."

There's a ringing in Sirius' ears and only one thought in his mind that he barely hears himself voice. "But who would want to hurt him?" he asks helplessly, the pieces slowly falling into place in his head.

The nightmares. The wariness about school. The way he's just seemed off.

"I don't know," James whispers.

"He's my brother."

"I know."

Little brother, I was born to bleed for you, so why haven't you given me the knife?

"James," he pleads weakly. "You have to help me save him."

James links their pinkies together. "I'm already trying."

Regulus' friends are laughing, and Regulus is not.

"For the last time, I don't like James Potter," he complains in pure frustration, while Pandora pats his head consolingly, and Barty and Evan continue to heckle him.

"As a Slytherin who is dating a Gryffindor," Dorcas explains to him like he's five years old. "Trust me when I say you're not off to a good start. All Gryffindor women are gorgeous and could have whoever they want, so you need to give them a reason to choose you."

"But I don't want to date a Gryffindor girl," Regulus exclaims incredulously. "I want to date –" 

"James Potter. Yes, we have known for years, but I'm sure the same principle applies to the gays as it does the lesbians."

"Did you see him shirtless after the game?" Barty pipes up, mocking Regulus' accent.

"He smiled at me across the Great Hall. Do you think he likes me?" Evan joins in, batting his eyelashes.

"I hope he does because his smile made me weak in the knees –"

"Will the lot of you shut the fuck up," Regulus snaps before rolling over and lying face down in his bed, trying to curb away the tears of frustration pricking his eyelids.

It's nice being with his friends most of the time, they're still the same people he knows and loves, but the problem is that he's not the same person they knew, so there are times like this when everything becomes too much, and he can't tell them why.

It isn't the teasing or mocking that's getting to him, though; it's the fact that the other him was clearly comfortable enough with his sexuality to broadcast it to his family and friends, but this version of himself isn't.

He knows he's gay and has accepted himself for how he is, but he also resents it with every ounce of his being. It just seems like another way he's proving his parents right, that he really is a burden rather than a blessing. They'd never let him be with a man, and he'd had a marriage contract lined up for him with Melanie Fawley since he was thirteen anyway, so he didn't see the point in indulging his fantasies of being happy when he grew up.

Instead, he kept quiet and pretended it wasn't real. He stood, ironically, in the closet in his dorm, cast the strongest silencing spells he knew and whispered the words to himself, just once. "I'm gay."

Then he learnt occlumency and locked away that part of him alongside the poetry books and his friendship with half-bloods like Dorcas in the dark corner of his mind where the truest parts of him are buried.

In this life, everyone important to him now knows he's gay, but he can barely admit it to himself. And they won't shut up about it.

"Oh god, you didn't ask him out, did you?"

"Barty!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry. Forget I said that."

There's a long pause where Regulus can't tell if it's awkward for everyone else or just him until Dorcas surprisingly breaks it.

"If you boys are so keen on discussing gay romance, should we bring up the end-of-school party –"

"Don't you dare," Barty hisses menacingly while Evan shifts from where they were sitting next to each other so they're now a metre apart.

It's an interesting development, and Regulus can't help but wonder why Barty, Evan and the discussion of gay romance made them so worked up.

Dorcas doesn't seem phased by their response, though, only smug at the effect she has on them. "Well, me and Marlene, as the only queer couple in this school with their shit together, are great; thanks so much for asking –"

"We didn't."

"- And when she invited me to meet her family, her Dad told me I would go to hell and that I've tainted his daughter, so I stole their cat."

Regulus finally turns his head away from his duvet to look at her. "You have a cat?" 

"You would've known this if you'd bothered to sit with us on the train," she teases before dropping a small grey ball of fluff on his chest. "His name is Greg."

"Who the fuck names their cat Greg?" Regulus asks, reeling back in blatant confusion.

"Marlene," Dorcas replies dreamily, eyes glazed, and Barty throws a quill at her so Pandora clears her throat before any fights begin.

"I learnt a card game over the summer that we should all play," she declares, pulling out a pack of muggle playing cards. "Xeno, the boy down the road, taught them to me before helping me pick rosemary, and he said it's better with more than two people."

"If it's snap, I want to verse Barty," Dorcas says instantly, already tying up her hair, but Pandora only laughs as she starts dealing out five piles.

"This game is called Go Fish."

Regulus thinks it's a stupid game, although that's possibly because he doesn't win, but he thinks that for the first time in a long time, things might actually be okay.

He could get used to this.

Outside the dorm, things are different because, in a rather hypocritical fashion, Regulus has started avoiding James.

Sirius would be okay, and he'd talk to any of his other friends politely enough if they came over, but not James. Not right now.

Their last conversation left him feeling too exposed, and James is far too frighteningly perceptive. A little off with his conclusions, sure, but it's close enough to the truth for Regulus to begin avoiding him.

Is it cowardly? Admittedly, yes, but it's not like he's a Gryffindor.

Regulus sits in his dorm while everyone else goes to breakfast, and when Evan and Barty come back to pick up their books, he even makes them walk ahead just in case James is waiting by the common room.

But he's not there, to his great relief and, oddly, his mild disappointment.

He goes to classes, hides in the library and forces Pandora to bring him lunch because Dorcas had only scoffed and walked away when he'd asked her. He's feeling good about things and settling into a routine again until classes finish, and he walks out of Transfiguration to see Sirius briefly before being pulled into an adjacent classroom.

"Can I help you…?" he asks slowly, sure he would've been confused by this regardless of what life he was living, but as Sirius continues to stare, Regulus grows impatient.

"Sirius, you're being weird," he says, unsure how else to phrase it. "What do you want? What am I doing here?"

"James talked to me last night," he replies eventually, sounding oddly choked up, and Regulus only sighs and rolls his eyes.

"I won't tell anyone, I already promised –"

"Reggie, why didn't you tell me you were being bullied?"

There's a long pause where Regulus just squints at him. Then, "What?" he exclaims, rearing back in surprise and offence. "That's the conclusion you drew? I'm a Black. I don't get bullied."

"You don't have to pretend," Sirius tells him, looking sad. "Not with me."

"But I'm not," Regulus protests, genuinely offended at the accusation. "I'm not being bullied, and I'm not pretending because I'm not being bullied. It's just coincidence that I already knew the healing charms and luck that I could use them to help James."

"Oh," Sirius replies, deflating slightly and looking relieved. "Is that what you learnt in your advanced classes with Professor Flitwick last year?"

"Yes," Regulus lies before tensing as Sirius' eyes narrow.

"Funny that," he says, looking at him intensely, "because I already talked to Professor Flitwick, and he said he's never taught these charms to anyone and that if anyone asked him about them, then he'd report it to their head of house and contact child protective services."

Again, Regulus has nothing to say.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he mutters. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a…? Regulus! They were spells for healing broken bones!"

"Maybe James is a dirty liar as well as a dirty tattle tale."

"James doesn't lie to me," Sirius says with full conviction before his entire body seems to wilt. "I thought you didn't either, Reggie."

Intentional or not, Sirius' guilt-tripping is highly effective.

"I'm not lying to you, I'm just…" but he doesn't actually have the words to explain himself, so he trails off instead. "You don't need to worry about me," he says instead.

"You're my little brother; that's my job," Sirius replies sadly, and Regulus hates how it makes his breath hitch because he remembers Sirius saying the same thing when he went to Hogwarts for the first time.

"If it's not better in a week, I'll tell you," Regulus says eventually, knowing Sirius has already made up his mind.

"I don't want it to not get better and find out you've broken another bone!" Sirius argues.

"I didn't break any in the first place!"

"Your story doesn't add up, Reggie. Tell me what you like, but I'm writing to our parents."

"No!"

"They already know something is wrong. They just don't know what yet."

"And you're not going to tell them."

"They can help you more than I can."

Regulus doubts that but doesn't bother arguing. Instead, he turns away and, ignoring Sirius' protests, walks out of the room and directly into James Potter.

"Reg!"

"Oh fuck off, not you too," he cries out in pure exasperation, too annoyed at the pair to want to be anywhere near them, especially James with his wrong conclusions and unnecessary drama starting.

"I don't want you to be mad at me, Reg. I'm just trying to do the right thing," James says sincerely, following him down the hallway where they're currently on the seventh floor, and there's a long way to go until they get to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Well, you didn't," Regulus mutters bitterly, walking as fast as he can without making it look like running. James, unfortunately, has very long legs and easily matches his stride.

"Then tell me what to do," he bursts out, "because I'm not going to sit here and watch someone get hurt when I know exactly what it feels like!" 

Regulus stops walking and turns to face James.

"It's not the same," he says quietly. "Just look after yourself."

"But if we don't look after you, who will?" James counters, and again, Regulus doesn't have an answer.

"Let me walk you to dinner," James says eventually, setting off again, and he doesn't say anything else after that, for which Regulus is grateful.

Dinner is spent stuck in his head, and all Regulus wants to do is have an early night and go to bed, but he's accosted the moment he walks into the common room.

"Black, how was your summer consorting with blood traitors and disappointing your ancestors?" a voice rings out, and all chatter quietens to watch the interaction.

"Mulciber, how was your summer sucking the Dark Lord's cock?" he replies boredly before disappearing up the stairway to his room, and there's a long silence before giggles start to break out behind him.

"Shut up all of you! I'll curse you if you don't stop laughing!" he hears as he closes the door, changing into his pyjamas and flopping onto his bed, all prepared to fall asleep until the door bursts open and all his friends flock in, staring at him reverently.

"You are my hero," Barty declares, dropping to his knees and raising his hands to bow down to him. "Nothing will ever make me happier than today, the day you not only shut down Mulciber and all the little Death Eaters but the Dark Lord as well. Anything you shall ever want shall be bought to you –"

"Marlene will want your autograph," Dorcas tells him, cutting Barty off. "So will Mary, Lily and Emmeline. They're going to think this is the greatest thing that's happened all year. You'll be the hero of the school."

"I don't want to be a hero; I want Mulciber to leave me alone," Regulus snaps mulishly.

"You do realise he's only going to be waiting to get you back," Evan tells him seriously, clearly thinking of his parents, who are expecting him to be a Death Eater too.

Regulus just shrugs. He isn't worried about what they could do to him. Whatever they try, he knows he's been through worse, so he's honestly just lying in his bed feeling deeply smug.

"It'd still be worth it," Regulus says.

"Yeah, it would!" Barty replies enthusiastically, holding his hand up until Regulus huffs and gives him a reluctantly amused high five.

They eventually leave him alone, still laughing to themselves, and while Regulus can deal with being annoyed at Sirius, he's starting to feel a little bad at how he treated James.

He really did just want to help, and if he had to tell anyone anything, then he'd tell Sirius too, so he can't fully blame James for tattling.

It's ironic that the time they decide to save him is after he's already died, but he can't deny that it is kind of nice being cared about.

He doesn't know how to say thank you, and he doesn't exactly want to say thank you, but he doesn't know what else to do. 

So what would James Potter do?  He thinks, resorting back to his primary coping mechanism.

Then Regulus does something kind.

"Another day, another dollar!" James chants as he turns on the lights and pulls back the curtains, waking everyone up.

"We don't want to do quidditch drills with you, wake us up when you come back," Peter moans, still half asleep.

"I've already gone for a run and shot hoops with Marlene for forty minutes and planned out tactics for our first match in four weeks," he recites without taking a breath. "It's seven-thirty, I'm already back."

"If they don't have chocolate muffins for breakfast, I'll transform early and maul everyone," Remus mutters darkly, pulling a shirt over his head while Sirius keeps lying beside him.

"Someone kiss me awake?" he groans sleepily.

"Alright," James and Remus say in unison before Remus looks away, laughing with a quiet "Jesus Christ" under his breath.

"I'm still waiting," Sirius huffs a few seconds later, reaching out for Remus, but he only walks away with an exasperated "Your other boyfriend can do the honours."

"Oh, Prongsie," Sirius calls out hopefully, and James laughs and leans down to kiss him on the forehead before leaving him to get dressed.

"It's Lily's favourite day of the week today," he tells Peter as they wait for the others by the door.

"Fair enough," Peter replies thoughtfully. "Friday is probably my favourite day of the week too because then I can sleep in for the next two days. Lily goes for brunch with the girls on Saturday, though, so why does she like Friday?"

"Honestly, it's probably because we only have three classes together instead of the usual four," James admits. "She told me that when she yelled at me in Hogsmeade last April."

"And you call that romance?" Peter asks, with no small amount of judgment. 

"If she's yelling at me, then at least she's talking to me," James counters. "Do you not remember that time in third year when she didn't talk to me for four months?"

"Oh, I remember," Peter mutters darkly. "She had a rather tainted view of you. Still does, to be honest, you've got a lot of work to do if you're going to change her mind."

"Peter, you're a genius!" James exclaims, the lightbulb going off in his mind. "We have a Hogsmeade weekend on the first week of December, so I'll give her time to warm up to the idea and ask her today. If she says no, then I'll have eight weeks to convince her!"

Peter looks like he has more that he wants to say, and none of it seems supportive, but Sirius and Remus come through the door, cutting off his response, and James vows to himself that today he's going re-ask out Lily Evans, the only possible love of his life.

He just knows that it's going to be a good day.

Lily smiles and waves to him at breakfast, even though she's looking at Remus while she does it, and then they have his favourite breakfast sausages and fried potatoes, which is the perfect quidditch recovery meal. Then, all thoughts of a good day disappear with the arrival of the owls as he watches one fly towards him.

He knows it's an irrational fear. It's probably for Sirius, who gets mail often, or Remus, who always has girls trying to ask him out even though he and Sirius are public, or Peter, who is in the chess club, gobstones club, duelling club and film club and is always getting letters from his friends about schedule changes or new releases.

There's no reason at all that an owl should be heading for him, but one drops a letter on his plate anyway.

What have I done wrong?  He thinks desperately. My grades are fine; I haven't gotten into detention yet, and it's too soon for the dark mark.

He's terrified as to what his parents could be writing to him about, especially so soon after he last saw them, but when he actually looks at the letter, he frowns and tilts his head in confusion.

"Want me to burn it for you?" Sirius murmurs, already holding his wand out, but James just shakes his head.

"It's not my parent's handwriting," he says in bewilderment.

He's still trying to figure out who it could be from when Sirius snatches it from his hand and rears back in shock.

"That's Reggie's handwriting! Prongs, what the fuck is my brother doing sending you letters?" 

"Is it really? I don't know why he'd send me one." James replies truthfully, taking it back even though Sirius seems reluctant to let it go, and he looks up to see Regulus in his usual spot on the Slytherin table, determinedly not looking at either of them.

James figures it can't hurt him and opens the letter.

James,

Just because your parents don't write you letters, doesn't mean you shouldn't get them like everyone else.

Don't expect this to be full of inspiration because that's much more your style than mine. I will tell you that I appreciate what you did even if I still wish you hadn't.

Sirius, if you read this, which I'm sure you will (you and your friends need to stop being so co-dependent), you can fuck right off with any tantrums you're going to have. And no, I'm not writing you your own letter.

Happy Friday James,

Reg.

James can feel himself grinning, especially as Sirius, who has been reading over his shoulder, squawks indignantly and then lifts his head to glare at Regulus.

James looks up too, but Regulus still won't look his way. He stares anyway and watches Regulus sitting with immaculate posture as he slices his apple while Barty whispers things in his ear that he only rolls his eyes at until something finally makes him laugh.

He has a nice laugh, but James has never brought it out of him before. He wonders what Regulus finds funny.

This week is maybe the first time he's ever seen Regulus as his own person rather than just Sirius' little brother.

James doesn't know if he's truly seen Regulus before in any capacity, but he's looking now.

"He wrote me a letter," he breathes out in a pleased kind of awe.

"Why the fuck did he write you a letter?!" Sirius hisses, looking like he's going through the seven stages of grief. "And what the fuck is that comment about us having no boundaries. Just because he hasn't got any friends."

"I think it's sweet," James admits, even though he never would have expected Regulus to watch him closely enough to notice, but he folds it carefully anyway and tucks it into his pocket so it won't get creased.

"James," Sirius says quietly, his voice serious all of a sudden. "Just remember Reggie likes you and is going through a few things right now, so whatever this is about, just let him down gently, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will, I know," he whispers back, already feeling the pre-emptive sorrow, and he looks back towards the Slytherin table to see Regulus finally watching him.

He looks away quickly, only to look back again, and James smiles and gives him a wave.

It looks like it takes a lot of him to do it, but Regulus does waves back. 

James knew it would be a good day.

Regulus has a bad day.

It starts off well when James gets his letter and his cheerful wave only made the way Sirius glared at him indignantly even better, but then he got to arithmancy and didn't bring his summer homework because he didn't know there'd been any. When he tried to explain that it must be in his trunk and he could bring it at lunch, his professor hadn't had a bar of it and had given him a Saturday detention.

Then he got distracted in herbology by thinking about James and got bitten by a Venus fly trap.

Then they served steak and kidney pie for lunch, his least favourite meal ever.

Then he realised he will need to sit through the same History of Magic classes again and spent the entire lesson considering being home-schooled.

Then, on top of all of that, he's had to deal with Mulciber whispering violent threats at him anytime they pass each other in the corridor, so he's in a foul mood when he gets to dinner.

He's already ranted to Pandora about it at lunch since they now go early during their off period on Fridays, and his other friends will get a brief rundown at dinner before he goes to his dorm and sulks.

He's so focused on shoving his roast chicken and potatoes in his mouth so he can just get up and leave that he isn't paying attention to the evening post coming in. He only gets mail from his parents in the morning and doesn't have many other people write to him, so he jumps when an owl lands in front of him with his name on the letter.

His head instantly lifts up to scowl at James, who only smiles at him innocently and makes a motioning gesture, clearly telling him to open it.

Regulus does.

Reg,

Just because your parents do write you letters, doesn't mean you shouldn't get more!

I, luckily, am good at inspiration, so let me inspire you with a fun fact: There are more historical artefacts on the ocean floor than in all the world's museums combined!

In case you're wondering (which you're probably not, but I'm telling you anyway), Sirius read this letter and said, "Tell Regulus to keep his ink and parchment to himself."

I, however, think you should write me more letters (only if you want to, of course). (Sirius is glaring at me, having read that sentence, but I don't think he really minds.)

SIRIUS DOES MIND (Sorry, that was Sirius. This is James again).

Thanks again for the letter. I'm sorry if me telling Sirius made you upset, but I'm not sorry for doing it. I really do just want to help. 

Happy Friday Evening Reg, 

James.

James is beaming at him, looking pleased and clearly expecting a response.

Regulus lets his lips curl up at the corners like they want to, secretly pleased as well and gives James a thumbs up.

"Stop flirting with Potter," Barty sighs, batting his hand away exasperatedly.

"Fuck me, Potter is flirting back" Evan gasps, and all his friends swivel their heads to stare in surprise.

James looks delighted.

"It's not flirting, it's friendship because I only want to be his friend, and he is in love with Lily Evans."

"I can't even blame him," Dorcas sighs, staring wistfully at Lily until Marlene smiles sardonically and pulls the finger and Dorcas' whole face lights up.

"Whipped," Barty scoffs. "The both of you."

Regulus doesn't bother replying, but tucks James' letter inside his notebook, already planning out his reply.

James,

I can't swim. Your fact wasn't fun. Try again this evening.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

Reg,

I'll teach you if you like. I thought Sirius would've since I know he can, but you have an open offer regardless.

A funner fact for you: Dolphins give each other names! Do you think it's sweet? I think it's sweet.

Happy Saturday Evening,

James.

James.

There's no such word as "funner". And humans also give each other names; dolphins aren't special.

Happy Sunday,

Reg.

Reg,

I would like to formally apologise for my improper use of grammar in the English language that you clearly hold so dearly to your heart.

Please forgive this ignoble gentleman for the error of his ways and take this fact that is MORE FUN than the others as my plea for forgiveness.

Every star you see in the night sky is bigger and brighter than the sun.

Surely this is a fun fact. You're named after a star. You are a star. How can you not like them?

Happy Sunday Evening,

James.

James.

I like stars. That one was better, except I already knew it.

Keep trying.

Happy Monday, 

Reg.

Regulus??? What happened to keeping your ink and parchment to yourself???

Fuck off Sirius.

Chapter Text

Regulus is in the middle of writing arithmancy proofs in the library and leaves his table for all of thirty seconds to get a textbook, only to find his previously empty table is no longer empty.

"Go away, James. I'm busy."

"But I want to say hi," James pouts, leaning further back into the seat he's claimed for himself.

"And I want to say bye so, bye James," Regulus snaps back before sitting down, opening his textbook, and trying to block out all distractions.

James, however, has always had the special talent of making his presence known at all times.

"Do you think washing machines and dryers would be good friends, or would they just be like work friends?" he asks, seeming to have already given it a lot of thought.

Regulus' head snaps up, scowling, and James looks delighted.

"They're inanimate objects; they're no more friends than you and I are," he replies incredulously, but James doesn't seem put off by his answer.

"But you and I are friends, so that means you think they'd be good friends," James concludes, nodding conclusively. "Next question: do you think, on a personal level, you'd be more like a washing machine or a dryer if –"

"James," Regulus snaps, looking up from his work yet again to glare. "It's my turn for a question now, and I want a genuine answer when I ask what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"See, a washing machine wouldn't have replied like that," James answers thoughtfully, "but I still don't think being a dryer suits you."

"Because I'm a human being and not a fucking household appliance!"

"You would be laundry powder," James says decisively, looking pleased with himself. "You'd be this really nicely scented one that was at my aunt's house once; there's nothing else you could be."

"Laundry powder," Regulus replies flatly, oddly offended. "You think I'm like laundry powder."

"Scented laundry powder," James corrects, like Regulus is the silly one for not understanding. "It's a compliment, you see; it means you smell nice and that you're something that people may not look for initially, but once they find it, they don't know how they could ever go back to living without it."

The thing about James, Regulus is learning, is that he always manages to catch him off guard in the most unexpected ways.

Knowing James can best be compared to light and glass. Usually, glass reflects light, and it's annoying and in your face, and you squint to try to block it out, but other times, if you're lucky enough, glass refracts light instead and creates a gentle glow to surround you as you watch the world shimmer.

Maybe it was James who hung the stars in the sky, but nothing could ever give Regulus the courage to ask.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" he replies drily, even though James' stupid metaphor for him has made his chest pulse with warmth.

"Of course," James says simply. "It was a compliment."

"Your compliments are utter shit, James," Regulus replies, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm not an object, I'm a human being, and I'm not fucking laundry powder.

"Scented laundry powder," James corrects.

"Do you want to know how to deliver a real compliment, James," Regulus snaps in pure exasperation, "even if it does have to be with your stupid fucking laundry metaphor? A good compliment is saying that you would be a washing machine because if people are dirty clothes, they go to see you, and you shower them with your unending care and warmth and affection and positivity whether they like it or not, which is, in this stupid metaphor is the water. Then, at the end, they come out cleaner than they started, so by using this fucking metaphor, I'm saying that you change people and make them feel better about themselves and have the ability to wash away people's doubts and pains so they can find the happiness hidden within them."

"How can you say such a nice thing in such a rude tone?" James asks, looking bashful and pleased. "I'm feeling offended, but I really don't think I need to be." 

"You would also be the type of washing machine to have all the colourful lights and the long, unnecessary and downright annoying chime that alerts the entire world whenever you do anything," Regulus snarls.

"That's the Regulus we know and love," James laughs, still ridiculously happy, and Regulus groans in pure frustration, gathers up his books and then walks out of the library.

"Goodbye, James."

Reg,

I've been thinking about what you said about how I wasn't very good at giving compliments, so let me try again.

Here are three for you, just in case you think not all of them are good; if you think all are bad, let me know, and I'll try to improve them.

1. Your hair always looks very nice; I've tried to style my hair many times, but it never works (as you can probably tell), but I do admire how you always make such perfect curls.
2. Your shoes are the fancy type of shoes that Aurors would wear in court before they absolutely destroy someone's argument and charge them as guilty. I know I wouldn't want someone to say that to me, but I think you'd be quite proud of it.
3. You have a good heart; I never properly thanked you for the first day of term, but thank you for looking, thank you for trying, thank you for listening. 

Happy Thursday evening,

James.

James,

It wasn't something you needed to overthink, and you don't need to send me more. Since I'm sure you'll ask, though, yes, those compliments were much better than calling me laundry powder.

Happy Friday,

Reg.

Reg,

Firstly, you're scented laundry powder; it's an important distinction.

Secondly, I'm always thinking, so rather than telling me to stop, you should just be flattered that I was thinking of you!

Thirdly, no! I have a lot of nice things to say about you, and you deserve to hear them all, such as how you're very funny. I honestly don't think you try to be sometimes, but you are anyway, and on Tuesday, you made me laugh sixteen times.

Happy Friday Evening,

James

James,

I didn't see you on Tuesday? What did I do that was so funny? I don't even think I want an explanation; I'm honestly just concerned.

Stop sending me compliments. I'll even take back what I said about how you can't do them well. Barty saw me smiling at breakfast and won't shut up.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

Reg,

No! You have a lovely smile! Has anyone ever told you that you have a lovely smile because that's your compliment for today. You hide your emotions a lot of the time, so it makes it all the more special when they're finally on show.

I will keep sending you compliments until you send me one back.

Happy Saturday evening,

James.

James,

I got exceeds expectations on my arithmancy homework and thought of you.

That's the best you're going to get.

Happy Sunday,

Reg.

Regulus and James are sitting across from each other in the library again.

Regulus was here first, and then James sat down and didn't listen when Regulus told him to go away, so now they're staring in silence, both ignoring the studies that they told each other that they're here for.

"I already told you to go away," Regulus says in mild annoyance since if James is here then he's going to be distracting, and he actually has work to do

"And I already told you the library is a public place, and there's nothing illegal about sitting where I like," James replies innocently, clearly enjoying winding Regulus up.

"Well, does the seat you choose have to be directly in front of me?"

"Yes," James replies simply, and Regulus lets out a sound of frustration and then glares at him while resting his chin on his hands, figuring if James is going to sit here and distract him from his homework, then he'll tick off something else that's high on his to-do list: prove to himself that he doesn't have a crush on James Potter, and then he can present the evidence to his friends after dinner.

He figures that by proving wrong the five things his friends told him that his old self had lamented, it will mean that he's a different person who doesn't want to date James Potter. It's like a little quiz; Regulus will answer the five questions, and if he deems less than 50 per cent of them true, it will mean he doesn't like James Potter because statistics never lie.

So, Regulus stares at James, studies him closely, and lists off the statements in his head.

"He's literally the nicest person in the world."

Regulus unfortunately can't deny this one, but neither can anyone else, regardless of whether they like James or not, so he figures this one doesn't really count and is just a fundamental truth for everybody.

"He sees me in a way no one else does."

That's Sirius' job, not James', is Regulus' first thought. That point can't be true because it's Sirius who has always seen Regulus before anyone else has thought to even look. Except... in this life, things are a little different. 

It was James who got the closest to figuring out what had happened to him, and it was James who had to help Sirius piece things together, and it's James who always seems to match the tone of his letter to fit the sort of day Regulus has had.

It's purely coincidental, he decides. Two out of five doesn't mean anything.

"He's so funny."

In an exceptionally annoying, slightly wholesome and reluctantly fond way, James can actually be quite funny.

Three out of five.

But that's still only a sixty per cent chance Regulus likes him. 

"He's like the sun."

I'm the star, not James, Regulus thinks cynically, along with a growing dislike for his other self who shares far too much with his friends than this version of him deems necessary. James can't be the sun; he's just a boy, but even Regulus can't deny the way he has been pulled into his orbit and how James always manages to leave him with a glowing warmth that he cradles between his ribs after their every interaction.

Four out of five. But maybe Regulus is part of the twenty per cent; statistics don't know shit about him.

"His smile makes me weak in the knees."

Regulus inwardly scoffs at this last point because no one's smile can make anyone weak in the knees, but when he looks up at James scowling and sees James grinning back, his stomach drops as he finds out they kind of can.

He told himself less than three meant he didn't have a crush, but he's scored five out of five.

He's just failed his own Am I gay for James Potter quiz.

"Fucking hell, what the fuck is wrong with you, James" Regulus cries out in a mixture of despair and devastation, and James looks highly taken aback at the way they'd been sitting in almost amicable silence before his outburst.

"If you wanted me to go, you just had to ask," James frowns as his fingers start to pick under already bitten nails, and Regulus sighs, a hint of guilt settling in his stomach along with the other whirlwind of emotions tumbling through him.

"That was a compliment; you just can't tell by the tone," he groans, rubbing his hands up and down his face, and James stares at him for a long moment before breathing out heavily.

"I can just go," he says in faked calm. "I'll leave you to your studying."

"Sit down, James," Regulus sighs, pointing to the chair. "It's just been a shit day, and I still have to give in this potions essay to stupid fucking Slughorn next period, so you can sit there and write me my evening letter so I have something to look forward to."

"Already written," he replies, smiling at him sweetly, which does nothing helpful for Regulus' newfound realisation. "I wrote it in History of Magic when Peter was asleep, and Remus and Sirius were writing notes to each other, so I figured I'd write mine to you as well."

Regulus still can't tell whether he finds James sweet or stupid.

"Then you can sit and write me something else," he orders before returning to his essay, trying not to let his newfound realisation distract him, but after thirty-five minutes, he hasn't written a single word.

His silly little crush is only made worse when James clears his throat.

"What?"

"I did what you asked and wrote you something," James tells him, sliding his parchment over.

"An acrostic poem," Regulus asks judgementally, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, but James only laughs, unfazed.

"An acrostic poem for you," he corrects, and Regulus presses his lips together before he does something stupid like smile and reads what he's written.

Regulus- I'm both glad and surprised you haven't kicked me off this table yet

Especially after you read this, but oh well

Gryffindor is scared of you on the Quidditch Pitch; I hope you know

U are the best seeker at Hogwarts, and I wish you weren't in Slytherin

Last week, I saw you perform the Wrongski feint during practice, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

U are also much more than just good at quidditch

Sorry, there's no more room to tell you how.

But wait, there is!

Look at all the extra room I made to tell you you're good at things!

Always know that I'm so glad you're my friend (not just Sirius' little brother!)

Checking the letters you send me is a highlight of my day, so never stop sending them!

Keeping you in my life will always be important to me.

Sweet or stupid, Regulus wonders.

"I'm going to burn it," he says flatly, even though his eyes keep retracing how James thought his feint was beautiful.

"You should hang it on your wall."

"I'll drive a nail through it."

"Then keep it in the drawer beside your bed," James replies, clearly amused. "That's where I keep all the letters you send me, and they're always there every time I check."

Sweet and stupid, Regulus decides.

"You are so confusing," Regulus says out loud.

"Thank you."

"I don't know if it was a compliment."

"But you meant it as one, didn't you?" James tells him. "I can tell you liked the poem even though you're also a little exasperated, but you don't want to express either, so you're just being mean."

He sees me in a way no one else does, Regulus' voice echoes in his mind. Five out of five. 

Regulus has nothing to say. James grins at him. Regulus' heart flutters.

"I have class," he says hurriedly, packing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder to have his newfound crisis elsewhere.

"Not for another twenty-three minutes," James calls out, smirking and looking ridiculously self-satisfied.

"Goodbye, James."

James sits there grinning to himself for a long time.

Regulus makes him laugh. He doesn't try to be funny; James thinks he tries quite hard to be mean and seem constantly bored, but he never quite manages it. James can see straight through him and knows he's ridiculously smart, genuinely thoughtful and deeply tender in a way James never thought he'd be, but he thinks is who Regulus is at his core.

He sends him letters every morning. He smiles every night when he reads James' reply. They study in the library. They say hello when they pass each other in the corridor. 

There's a connection between them that's only growing stronger, and James has no idea what's to come when they finally meet in the middle.

He's still sitting there and thinking about Regulus when the bell rings for fifth period, which all sixth years have free, and it doesn't take long for Remus to sit down next to him and for Sirius to sit straight in his lap.

"There's another six chairs at this table," Remus says wryly, even as he lets Sirius lean against him and rest his hand on his waist, fingers slipping under his shirt. 

"Anywhere further than here is too far away. I'd miss you too much," Sirius replies easily as he tilts his face up to smile at Remus, and James can't help but feel a slight pang of longing at the obvious way they love each other.

James has no problem loving people, which is one of the things he loves about himself, but sometimes, he thinks people struggle to love him in return. He doesn't know how he can possibly love someone wrong when love is the truest form of himself, so clearly there's just something wrong with him.

Lily definitely thinks so.

"Oi Prongs," Sirius calls out, apparently having a similar thought process. "What did Lily end up saying when you asked her to Hogsmeade last week, because you didn't complain once about it, but I also know everyone would've known if she'd said yes."

"She hasn't complained to me about it either," Remus frowns, looking closely at James. "What did happen?" 

James thinks for a long moment before his world tilts as he realises the answer.

"I forgot," he cries aghast. "I forgot to ask her! I forgot about Lily," and he gapes at Sirius in shock, hoping he has the answer.

Instead, Sirius just stares closely at him, looking concerned. "Are you okay?" he asks gently. "I thought your brain was a bouquet of lilies, so what could have been so important to make you forget her?" 

He looks so worried and so tender and so desperate to help that James almost feels guilty when he realises what the answer is.

"I was thinking about your brother, actually," he says in surprise. "I went to go ask Lily to Hogsmeade, but then Reg sent me that letter, and then I was thinking about how nice it was and what I was going to reply, and it took away any thoughts of Lily I had left in me."

Instead of replying instantly, Sirius seems to be holding back a lot of his thoughts before he glances at Remus, who seems resigned as he says, "Yes, we can debrief this tonight." 

Then Sirius turns back to James.

"I dislike the connotations of that sentence, Prongs," he says warningly, which makes Remus tap his hip while James stares between the two of them in mild confusion.

"The connotations of what?"

Sirius stares at him for a long moment and then sighs, looking amused but slightly despaired. "Go talk to Lily and then tell me how you feel afterwards, okay?"

"What are you keeping from me?" James says suspiciously, his scepticism only mounting as Remus snorts quietly and mutters, "What are you keeping from yourself?"

"Do you trust me?" Sirius asks, more seriously this time, and James nods without hesitation.

"Always."

"Go talk to Lily, listen to what she says, and then think about how you feel."

"On it," James says, nodding firmly. "Do you think she'll be in the library too?"

"Nah, she'll be in the common room," Sirius tells him. "She just came from ancient runes and has transfiguration next, so she won't want to come all the way down here."

"You know her timetable?" James asks, extremely confused and wondering if he's being a bad future boyfriend.

"Nah, I memorised Moony's," Sirius replies, picking up Remus' hand and linking their fingers. "Him and Lily just take the same classes."

"You memorised my timetable?" Remus asks wryly, looking like he wants to laugh, but Sirius looks back, unusually soft, as he slips a ring off his finger, slides it onto Remus' and says, "I memorised all of you."

James watches them love each other, slightly wistfully, before he goes to find Lily so he can have a love like that of his own.

"Lily!" James calls enthusiastically as he walks towards her table, surrounded by books and parchment.

"James," she sighs, looking exasperated as she checks time. "What new argument do you have for our relationship this time?"

"So Hogsmeade –"

"No."

"No?" James asks incredulously, rearing back in surprise. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask yet!"

Lily only looks at him pityingly instead of irritated, which is somehow worse. "You're going to ask me to go to Hogsmeade in December with you, but since it's still September, you're giving me enough time to change my mind because you think I'll say no when I actually want to say yes. Then you'll ask me again in Hogsmeade, and I'll say no again, and you'll get confused, and everyone will be telling me to say yes instead of telling you to leave me alone, and then I'll yell at you, ruining both our days, so I'm just saving us from that fate."

"You could also save us by saying yes…" James replies slowly, and Lily scowls at him, standing up and looking genuinely pissed off.

"Because god forbid you take into consideration what I actually want!"

"I do take that into consideration!" James protests, not liking the insinuation she's making. "I'm just saying that you keep saying no and won't even give us a chance!"

"Have you ever noticed that it's always people saying Lily, just give James a chance instead of James, leave Lily alone and respect her when she says no?" Lily says instead, looking hurt, and James is admittedly a little surprised at the change of conversation.

"Er, no, not really," he admits, and his response seems to be expected, but Lily still laughs bitterly.

"I've spent the past five years at this school trying to make a name for myself, but all most people see me as is the girl who keeps breaking James Potter's heart."

"It doesn't seem right to blame that on you, though," James frowns, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"Welcome to being a woman," Lily replies drily. "A lifetime of battling through each day while the whole world is against you for things you can never change."

"Well explain it to me then," James says, wondering if he's doing the right thing. "Explain the exact truth about why you don't want me, why you never will, and what that has to do with the world."

Lily does.

"I'm a woman and a muggleborn, and those are going to be two black marks against my name for the rest of my life. Random people always tell me to just say yes when you ask me for a date so I can go up in society and be respected even though I always say that I don't like you like that. Then people say it doesn't matter if I like you, I just have to think about what you can give me, so when you ask me out every month, I always say no, and it's everyone says just give James a chance, and it's not fair to break his heart like that. No one seems to take into consideration that I genuinely feel bad saying no to you because I know you like me, but it's hard not to resent you when all I hear is James is such a gentleman waiting for Lily and never James needs to respect Lily's answer when she says no."

"I wasn't – I wasn't trying to disrespect you," James stutters, unaware that any of this had been part of the greater issue.

"Maybe not, but you did anyways," Lily replies simply. "If I'd acted like you did towards me, people would call me desperate, but because you're a man doing it, that makes it romantic instead."

"Lily," is all James breathes out, staring in horror, and she breathes out slowly, anger dissipating and clearly able to tell her words are having an effect.

"What's my favourite colour, James?"

"Gold," he replies promptly, if not slightly confused. "You like how it looks more special on you since most of your friends wear silver, and you like how there are flecks of it in your eyes when the sunlight hits them."

"It's lilac now," she replies softly. "Do you see what I mean when I say you want the idea of me so badly that you haven't even gotten to truly know the girl you claim to love?"

James feels his heart slowly breaking into pieces.

"I do wish it could've been you sometimes," she continues, almost nostalgic. "I can see us walking through Hogsmeade and growing old together, but maybe it's meant for a different lifetime. I can see it all so clearly, but I can't explain why I don't want it."

"Ever?" James clarifies, and Lily smiles sadly.

"You want me to go from someone you barely know to someone who will be yours while I'm just trying to figure out who I am. The whole school has decided that we're going to fall in love, and no one has even asked me if I want to." 

"And you don't want to," he says with a detached sense of finality, and Lily looks apologetic as she meets his eye and says, "No."

She has damp eyes, clearly sorry, but James only feels numb.

He can't feel anything at all, but he can hopefully make Lily feel a little better, before he helps himself behind the safety of Sirius' curtains.

"Can I borrow a piece of parchment and a quill?" he rasps, reaching out hesitantly, and Lily switches from compassion to fury in a heartbeat.

"If you're about to write me an apology letter with the hopes it'll change my mind –"

"No, no, no, I promise it's not that," he rushes out. "Just trust me for once."

She looks at him warily but does hand over what he's asked, and then James is writing and can't see what she looks like until he turns the paper to face her.

What James promises to change:

1. Stop asking Lily out.
2. Ask her what she likes to do instead of assuming.
3. Do something nice? Take her flying? (A historically male sport)
4. Respect her and let her tell you when she feels disrespected
5. Take more notice of what people say about women 

"You can add more things to it if you like," he's saying. "This is just so it shows I've listened to what you've said and that I'm taking it seriously, so then if you feel like the whole world is against you, you'll at least know that I'm not."

He isn't trying to win Lily over anymore; he's genuinely just trying to prove to her that he will try to be a better person, so he's startled when she stands up and hugs him before heading towards the portrait hole.

"Sometimes, I really wish it could've been you," she says with a rueful smile before she walks away, and James stands there for a long time, staring at the door, which stays firmly closed.

The dorm is empty when James walks in, which he's endlessly grateful for as he lies on Sirius' bed, casts a silencing spell, and starts to cry deep, harrowing sobs as he feels his chest fracturing to pieces.

He doesn't know what plan of Sirius' this was, and he doesn't know how this was meant to help him when this is the worst he's ever felt at Hogwarts. He desperately wants Sirius but also doesn't want to be near anyone right now.

He doesn't know what he needs as he slowly dismantles the future he's spent the past five years creating for himself.

He keeps thinking about what Lily said about how he'd treated her and how people had let him because of who he was. Then he thinks of how his parents do the exact same thing to the world and cries some more.

He thinks of the apologetic and pitying but resounds no when she'd truly rejected him for the last time.

Then he cries some more until the bed dips, and Sirius gets in, wrapping James in a hug.

Why did you tell me to do that? He means to ask, but what comes out instead is a much more vulnerable "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Never have and never will," Sirius replies instantly. "What new idea do you have that I need to talk you down from now?"

"Lily said I wasn't respecting her by listening when she said no and that I got away with it because of who I am," he whispers.

"Ah," Sirius says sadly, huffing a laugh. "I don't think that's you being a bad person, James; I think that's you being sixteen."

"That's not an excuse," he replies, wrecked, needing Sirius to understand why he's feeling like this.

"No," Sirius agrees, "but it's why you did it, and since you can recognise that it's a problem, you know what needs to be done to change it. Character development isn't always fun, but it's always better to grow than to stay as you are."

"And if I never grew?"

"I'd always love you for who you were, but you wouldn't, and I want you to love yourself just as much as I do."

"I want Lily to love me that much, too," James chokes out before starting to cry again. "I don't know why you made me do this, Sirius. It hurts." 

Sirius hugs him tightly and doesn't respond for a long while until he eventually just says, "I know."

James doesn't know which sentence he's replying to.

Reg,

Short note today, sorry. I'm sure you've heard the news. 

Happy Thursday Evening,

James.

James,

This is an extra note you don't need to reply to, and you'll still get one in the morning. Just saying I hope you're okay and that there's nothing wrong with being sad. 

You have emotions because you're human, not because you're a problem. (Sirius used to tell me this when I was younger, so if you have any doubts, he can verify it for you.)

Since I don't doubt you're with Sirius now, show this to him and make him read it. Sirius- I know you can be a good brother when you want to be, so be a good friend to James.

I can't do much now, but I can give you breakfast entertainment. And lunch. And dinner.

I hope your Thursday night gets better,

Reg.

James,

I told you you'd still get a note today. Sorry, I'm not good at cheering people up, but I hope you can tell I'm trying.

If you want to sit with me in the library this afternoon, I won't even tell you to go away.

Happy Friday,

Reg.

Regulus is only half reading the book on his lap, so he instantly notices when James starts walking towards him.

He's looking James up and down, stare lingering on his jawline before he realises what he's doing, and his cheeks turn red at the exact moment James arrives at their table.

His face looks a little drawn, and his eyes a little tired from an obvious lack of sleep, but his smile is genuine as he drops into the seat in front of Regulus and stares at him in awe.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he asks delightedly, clearly referring to the 'incident' at breakfast where Mulciber's body turned bright pink in the middle of the Great Hall, and how Avery came to lunch unable to say anything but increasingly more dramatic versions of I love Gryffindor. "I know it was you."

"It might have been," Regulus replies smiling, half pleased that James is happy and half rioting that he's the source of it. "I figured I'd give people something else to talk about for a while," and then he curses himself as he watches James deflate and blow out a long breath, staring at the ceiling.

"I usually love being the centre of attention, but not today," he admits, all signs of earlier amusement having disappeared entirely.

"Well," Regulus says, desperately trying to think of something comforting or insightful to reply with but coming up with nothing.

James doesn't seem offended, though; he just huffs a breath of laughter and says, "Yeah, it's a bit like that."

"Yeah," Regulus replies uselessly before James' amused stare becomes too exposing, and he's rushing to reassure him. "Sorry," he blurts out. "You should probably go find Sirius if you want proper comfort. I'm trying; I'm just not very good at this. At words. Or comfort. Or giving advice. I won't be upset if you need my brother instead of me."

"You don't have to worry, Reg," James interrupts, almost looking fond. "You're doing just fine."

"By replying to your problems with one-word answers that add nothing to the conversation?" Regulus asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"By showing you care," James corrects. "I've already had seven girls ask me out today because they think I'm available; sitting here with you is a much better way to pass the time."

"That is a low bar to beat," he replies drily, "I'm just treating you like a human instead of an object," but this only adds to James' melancholy.

"Lily said I treated her like an object sometimes," James admits, voice ridden with guilt. "I guess I deserve to have the experience returned."

"I think you're being punished enough," Regulus argues, rather in the mood to fight these people right now. "I think you feel bad, and you think making yourself feel worse will eventually make you feel better, but life isn't supposed to be something to suffer through at all."

"I was just so sure it was her," James continues, as though Regulus hadn't spoken. "I still am sure it's her, but I have to let her go."

"Letting go doesn't have to mean leaving her behind," Regulus tells him, even though he selfishly wants him to. "Maybe letting go is simply changing your grip so you can hold the past in one hand and the future in the other."

"I don't know what my future looks like anymore," James says quietly, looking on the verge of tears, which Regulus has no idea how to deal with, so he says the first thing that pops into his head.

"Your future will have me in it," he says before his cheeks turn pink. "Hopefully, that'll count for something."

"It counts for a lot," James replies genuinely, smiling up at him before he tilts his head. "Reg, we're friends, right?"

"Yes…"

"And you feel you could be honest with me?"

"Yes…?"

James nods, something resolute in his gaze as he looks at Regulus and says, "I'm on a trip of self-discovery to be a better person because Lily has pointed out some of my flaws to work on, so I need you to tell me what you think my biggest red flag is."

"That you're straight," Regulus replies drily, which is the embarrassing truth but will also inject a bit of humour into their conversation. Or so he thinks until James tilts his head in confusion and says, "Who told you that?"

Regulus' jaw drops.

"I thought it was public knowledge," he answers, ignoring the way his entire body is trembling in anticipation. "Are you trying to tell me that you're not?"

"I guess," James says casually, as though this isn't a life-altering sentence for Regulus. "I just like who I like, and if their personality is attractive, then I don't mind who they are or what they look like."

James makes it sound so simple, but Regulus knows things are only going to get complicated.

"I'm so fucked," he whispers, too soft for James to hear, as his heart continues to skip beats in his chest.

He has a chance. He has a chance. He has a tiny little infinitesimal chance.

His silly little crush has turned rather abruptly into extreme gay delusion.

There's no way this is going to end well for him.

Chapter Text

Reg,

You've seemed quiet lately; is everything okay? I missed you in the library today; I hope I'll see you tomorrow.

My offer to talk always stands, no matter what, when or where.

Happy Monday evening,

James.

James,

You worry too much, I'm fine.

If you need to talk, though, my offer also still stands no matter what, when or where. If you want to talk about the bullying problem I don't have, then don't bother.

Happy Tuesday,

Reg.

"Brace yourself," Barty says as he walks into the dorm, and that's all the warning Regulus gets before Evan launches into one of his well-meaning rants that Regulus should appreciate but only ever gets slightly bored by.

"You need to sort yourself out," Evan begins, standing at the foot of Regulus' bed and bracing his hands against the bedposts while Regulus and Barty sit at the head of it. "People are starting to talk."

"People are always talking about me," Regulus replies disinterestedly, really not in the mood to be lectured. "What's so different about this time?"

"The fact that it's Mulciber and his squad of Death Eaters and not first-year girls who want to marry you," Evan hisses, flinging an arm out.

"That is different," Regulus replies drily, as Barty laughs and says, "You can't tell me a pink Mulciber isn't the funniest thing you've ever seen."

"None of this is funny!" Evan shouts over them, looking genuinely distressed. "They're potential Death Eaters who are trying to impress the Dark Lord to get into his ranks; there's no limit to what they can do, including using the dark arts."

"Regulus is the best in our year at defence against the dark arts, and none of them are art," Barty explains enthusiastically. "This means he only needs to defend against the dark, and we learnt Lumos in the first year, so problem solved!"

"The problem is not solved, Barty," Evan shouts, "but maybe you'll actually realise that sooner when someone who isn't me is bearing the brunt of it!" Then he walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, and Barty and Regulus sit there, equally as surprised as the other.

"Do you think he has a problem with me?" Barty asks guilelessly, "Should I go talk to him?" Regulus doesn't know the context, but he knows enough to know Evan needs some time to cool down. 

"I can practically visualise the big red sign hung on the door saying neither of you talk to me, especially Barty," Regulus says drily, thinking this will be enough to deter him, but Barty's face only lights up at the comment.

"It is a lovely day to be red-green colour blind," he announces in pure elation, patting Regulus' cheek in mock affection before he walks straight through the bathroom door after Evan.

Regulus doesn't follow because he actually has a sense of self-preservation and instead thinks half-heartedly about what Evan has said before he dismisses it.

Evan means well, but he's always been particular about things and always thinks things are a bigger problem than they are, which admittedly, Regulus also does but in different ways.

Plus, Regulus knows Mulciber far better than Evan. He went to school with him for five years and used to see him at Death Eater meetings; he knows exactly what Mulciber is capable of, which isn't very much.

There's no need to worry.

He plans to tell Evan this in a logical and organised manner when he finally leaves the bathroom, but when the door opens a few minutes later, Evan's hair is ruffled, Barty's lips are swollen, and both go straight to their beds and then close the curtains without a word.

Regulus stares for a long moment and then shakes his head in bewilderment. Neither of these things are my problem, he decides firmly. There's nothing to worry about.

"The autumn equinox is guaranteed to provoke a change," Pandora tells him from where they're sat in the courtyard, eating lunch. "Courage can never be lost, but it can always be found."

"You sound like a philosophical version of Evan," Regulus mutters, taking a more aggressive bite of his sandwich, but Pandora, like usual, isn't put off by his rudeness.

"I rather think you'll come to find that that's a strong mimicry of James," she tells him with a knowing glint in her eye, and Regulus almost whines as he drops his head into his hands.

"Why the fuck does he have to look like that?" he asks despondently, gesturing in thin air. "I don't want to date him. I don't even want to like him; I just want him to go back to being Potter." 

"But now you want yourself to be a Potter too," Pandora nods wisely before bursting into laughter as Regulus splutters and turns bright red.

"Holy fucking merlin," Regulus exclaims, eyes streaming as he gets over his coughing fit. "I've only known he wasn't straight for less than a week; give me a break."

"Well, if we're speaking of lovers and you won't talk about yours, I'll tell you about Xenophilius instead," Pandora says, completely ignoring Regulus renewed sputtering of "we're not in love," and starts describing how they're going to go blackberry picking when she gets home for Christmas before they bake a pie.

"Evan has a point, you know," she says suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and Regulus has mental whiplash from the abrupt change in conversation.

"Not you too," he groans, sick of the constant pestering. "It's my life, and you're all just living in it, which I can change very quickly if you don't shut up."

"Rude," she says lightly, tapping him gently on the arm before continuing as though he hadn't spoken. "I'm just telling you what I think you should know, but you always did find hindsight to be the best teacher."

"In the nicest way possible; what does that even mean," he asks tiredly, tipping his head back against the tree, and Pandora plucks a dandelion from the ground and threads it in her hair before she speaks.

"I always tend to receive colours from the spirits rather than images."

"And what colour is my fuck up of a life?" Regulus replies drily, not at all interested in the answer, but Pandora gives him one anyway as her eyes focus intensely on him, and she says, "All I can see is red."

Regulus automatically thinks of James and prays that the future Pandora sees belongs to them.

Evan is worried. Pandora is hinting that he should be worried. James tells him at least three times a day that he's worried for him, but he's ignored them all, so Regulus thinks he should be more surprised when a hand loops through his elbow and grips his wrist, only holding tighter when he tries to pull away as Sirius drags him into one of the abandoned classrooms. 

Regulus sits on a desk, feet swinging in the air, while Sirius stands and stares at him. 

"How was ancient runes?" he asks, voice carefully measured, and Regulus sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Good. Easy. What do you actually want?" 

Sirius deflates a little at the response before reaching into his pocket and handing him a letter with Regulus' name in their parent's handwriting.

Regulus stares at it like it's a bomb.

"It's for you," Sirius says redundantly when Regulus refuses to take it.

"I don't want it," he replies quietly, leaning as far back as he can, but Sirius wilts like he expected this answer before picking it up and standing in front of Regulus, blocking his way so he can't leave before reading it aloud.

"My darling boy,

It has been five weeks since you've been at school, and we haven't received a single letter. 

What is going on? Does this have something to do with what happened in the holidays?

Whatever is happening to you or whatever you've done, it doesn't matter. We want to help you if there is a problem and if it's something you've done, there's nothing we won't forgive you for. You have always been and will always be our son.

We love you. We miss you. We hope to hear from you soon.

Mum and Dad."

Regulus doesn't know what to do with such genuine affection; hasn't received anything like it in years, but he can't admit any of that lest people find out he isn't the Regulus he's supposed to be.

They're not his parents. He doesn't deserve any of it. He stole it all from James.

"I'll keep it in mind," is all he says, shrugging Sirius off and trying to walk away, but Sirius doesn't seem inclined to let him go.

"Why won't you write to them?" he asks softly. "Is it about the bullying?" and Regulus' frustration bubbles over.

"I'm not being bullied, I don't have any problems, and I don't need your help," he snaps, glaring at Sirius, who only seems to be growing more and more desperate to save him as the days go by.

The problem is, Regulus is genuinely fine. He's still a little confused and still coming to terms with living a new life in another timeline, but none of that is anything Sirius can help him with.

That doesn't mean he isn't trying, but he's a lifetime too late.

"Only guilty people avoid questioning," Sirius argues.

"So it's my fault I'm being bullied?" Regulus replies flatly, before he feels a flicker of amusement as Sirius' face drops, and he's rushing to reassure him.

"No, Reggie, no, not at all, but I'm so proud of you for admitting it's happening –"

"That was a joke," Regulus interrupts, trying to push past Sirius to get to the door. "James doesn't know shit, and you trust him too much, so you're believing everything he says too."

"Then why did you learn those spells?" Sirius asks him more quietly now. "Just tell me why."

For you,  Regulus thinks, you taught me all of them, but he knows he can't say it out loud. Instead, he stares in front of him and says nothing.

"Regulus," Sirius pleads, and that one word makes him realise just how worried Sirius truly is about him. 

For the first eleven years of his life, Sirius called him Reggie. Then, for the next five, Sirius didn't talk to him at all. 

He doesn't actually know if he's ever heard Sirius call him by his full name before, but today, he's throwing it out like a lifeline.

Regulus doesn't need to be saved, though.

"If anything happens to me, it will be because you spoke it into existence," he hisses in pure exasperation, dodging out of the hug Sirius tries to give him and hearing him make a wounded noise as though he's just been stabbed.

He looks like he's just figured out why they call this the abandoned classroom because that is undoubtedly how he must feel.

Reg,

Are you okay? I don't think you are. Sirius is worried about you, and I am too.

You can't guilt or yell at us to make us stop caring; we just want to help.

Happy Tuesday Evening,

James.

James,

Sirius is dramatic, as are you.

I'm fine. Stop asking. I've had enough of all of you.

Happy Wednesday,

Reg.

"Did you talk to him?" Sirius asks from where he and James are sitting at the dinner table together, picking on pieces of chicken that neither of them are very hungry for. "He's outright refusing to talk to me now."

"I couldn't find him," James replies. "He always sits at the same spot in the library, but I checked four times today, and he wasn't there. Mary was there all morning, too, but she said she never saw him."

"Of course he'd avoid us, so he didn't need to talk about his feelings," Sirius huffs in mild annoyance. "The minute I see him sit down at the table, I'm going straight up to him; I don't care how unnecessary he thinks it is."

James keeps looking for him, thoughts of Regulus taking over more and more of his brain these past few weeks as Sirius gets more and more worried about him, but dinner is nearly over, and he still hasn't shown.

"Maybe he's getting his friends to bring him food?" Sirius wonders, looking closely at all the heads on the Slytherin table, but Evan and Barty are still there, Pandora is at the Ravenclaw table, and Marlene and Dorcas skipped class after fifth period and haven't come back since. A few other people are missing, but it doesn't look like Regulus is with any of his friends.

"Maybe," James echoes, picking at his food and half listening to Remus and Peter's conversation when his owl flies in with the evening post and stops in front of him with his letter for Regulus on it.

There have been a couple of times when they've missed each other slightly, like when a quidditch practice has run overtime, and they haven't seen the other open their letter, but their letters have always been delivered.

James' owl, Toto, is trained to always deliver the letter, no matter the location.

Whether it's the Slytherin dorm, the quidditch pitch or the other side of the world, Toto will deliver the letter unless it's unsafe to do so.

James stares at the letter lying innocently against Toto's leg like its contents will set the world on fire, and Sirius has snatched the Marauders Map out of Remus' bag before James has even thought to ask.

They pore over it until they find Regulus' name on a side corridor in the dungeons.

Then they sprint.

Regulus feels like he's being watched and hates how he's let Sirius' words get to his head.

It's not just Sirius' fault, but it's easier to blame it all on him because it makes it harder to feel the guilt that settles in his stomach every time he pushes him away.

That's what he tells himself anyway.

Sirius pesters him the most, and Regulus knows it's because he cares the most, but it also means he annoys him the most.

Regulus very rarely feels anywhere close to being okay, but now that he is, it's unbelievably frustrating that nobody believes him. He isn't going to be a Death Eater; his parents will support him no matter what, and he has the power to save James.

He doesn't have any reason not to be okay.

It's not like anyone is stupid enough to bully him, not that he'd ever let himself be. His family is still in the sacred twenty-eight and isn't someone anyone wants to make an enemy of, so there's nothing to worry about. 

This logic won't get rid of the uneasy feeling that he's being watched, but every time he gives in and looks behind him, there's never anybody there.

It's still making him uneasy, something more than paranoia starting to fester within him as the hairs on his arms stand up on edge, and it reaches the point where he can't convince himself to walk the usual route to dinner, so, cursing out Sirius in his head, he dodges down a side corridor and then realises how stupid that was moments before his wand flies out of his hand.

He prays it's a prank by his friends or a new and annoying way for Sirius to get his attention, but he slowly turns around and sees Mulciber, flanked by Avery and Wilkes, who is holding his wand and looking smug.

"Not so brave without an audience, are you?" he taunts, staring gleefully at Regulus and clearly waiting for him to beg. Regulus only looks up with a blank expression, even though his fingers are itching to have his wand back.

"And I guess you had to have an audience because you were too scared to face me alone?" Regulus replies boredly, which isn't his best comeback, but it annoys Mulciber enough.

"I can do plenty of things alone," he snaps back. 

"Clearly not well though, or your precious Dark Lord would've made you a Death Eater," Regulus replies mockingly, knowing this was a sore spot for Mulciber in his old life.

In this life, however, things are clearly different, as Mulciber gives him a self-satisfied smirk and says, "Who says he hasn't?" before they all roll up their sleeves to show the skull and snake on their forearms, and Regulus has the startling realisation that maybe everybody was right, especially Evan.

He comes to this conclusion just in time to watch the first spell shoot towards him.

It's lacero, a simple cutting curse that Regulus has received hundreds of times before, and while they're more annoying than painful, he doesn't want any in the first place.

Since he doesn't have his wand, though, there's no way to get out of this besides enduring it, so he stupidly decides to taunt them instead.

"A single lacero, that's the best you can come up with," he asks patronisingly. "It's no wonder you're failing all your classes; I bet you don't even know what spell I used to turn your skin pink."

Mulciber's face flushes, turning pink again, which makes Regulus feel smug until the anger enters Mulciber's eyes, and Regulus recognises the look from his father when he was too far gone to have any rational thought left.

"I don't need fancy tricks to turn yours red," Mulciber hisses, and then an excruciating pain flickers across Regulus' stomach, and true to Mulciber's word, he watches his blood start to bubble up and across his chest.

"A good Death Eater never lies, not that you'd know," Wilkes smirks, casting the same spell dangerously close to his jugular and laughing as a crimson necklace wraps around his neck like a noose.

He can feel tears on his cheeks from the pain, and he watches distantly as they mix with his blood and his body becomes the canvas for a watercolour painting; he has no doubt the image is a tragedy.

"Your Dark Lord lies," Regulus replies, voice sounding far away. "Did you know he's a half-blood?"

Obviously taking offence on his behalf, Mulciber sends a spell to make it seem like he's been punched in the stomach, Avery casts a tripping jinx which sends him to the floor, and Regulus finally starts to panic.

He hurts. His peripheral vision is fading. He doesn't know what happened to his wand, but Lumos won't save him now.

"Stop, please," he rasps, pride long forgotten, but most of them don't even acknowledge him enough to laugh. 

Mulciber just looks at him gleefully as he raises his wand and says, "It's time to learn that your actions have consequences."

They keep casting and ignore his begging, clearly thinking of the praise they'll get from their Lord, so in a desperate fit of panic, Regulus lunges for Wilkes, hoping to steal his wand, and Wilkes, taken by surprise, casts the first spell he can think of which turns out to be harmless.

Or at least, it should be harmless.

Wilkes impulsively casts aguamenti, and the cold water saturates Regulus instantly, and when he blinks, he's not in the dungeon anymore; he's back in the cave.

There's the same tunnelling of his vision from the potion and the cuts across his skin and water that promised to save him but is killing him instead.

He swears the water is heavier and endless for some reason, but however much water there is, it doesn't wash away the inferi who are scratching away at his skin, making sure he can feel every cut they make.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

His head is fuzzy, and his chest is tight, and when he opens his eyes, everything is covered in a pink film that tints the water he's surrounded by.

He reaches out a shaky hand to check the locket is still in his pocket, but a boot stomps on it before he gets there. He wonders why he never saw the inferi wearing shoes when footsteps are all he can hear.

"Stop," he gasps, not sure who he's asking or why they'd be able to hear him. "Stop, please," but a high-pitched laugh rings in his ears before his wrist is kicked again, and he hears something snap. He thinks he would have screamed if there was any air left in his lungs, and distantly wonders if he'll bleed out before he drowns.

Belatedly, he wonders why the water doesn't taste like salt when he can feel it crusting on his cheeks.

"Sirius," he cries, his voice cracking on a last desperate plea for help, and he can't tell if it's a miracle or a hallucination that he hears an answer.

Sirius spends the next hour suspended in flashes of time, with the only sound he hears being a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Three boys standing. One boy on the floor.

His brother.

"Get the fuck away from him."

Four boys on the floor. James lowering his wand and handing Sirius' back to him.

"Why did you stun them?"

"Because you would have killed them."

His brother.

"Regulus!"

His little brother.

"Regulus, wake up."

Oncoming hysteria.

"He's not breathing. James, help me. You have to help me."

Red chest. Pink water. Blue lips.

"Reggie, if you won't wake up, then let us trade places."

Madame Pomfrey in front of him. Remus pulling him away. 

"I'll cast a permanent sticking charm on our hands if you try to take him away from me again."

A plastic chair. The Hospital Wing. Two brothers. One chasm.

"How did this happen?"

"Regulus, can you hear me?"

A plastic chair. The Hospital Wing. Two questions. No answer.

Sirius sits beside his brother's hospital bed with his knees tucked up to his chest as he lets out deep, gasping sobs. He thinks the other people in the hospital wing probably want him to shut up so they can go to sleep, but Sirius just wants Regulus to wake up.

But he isn't waking up.

"Are you sure he'll be okay?" he asks Madame Pomfrey as she completes another round, and she looks at him pityingly as she repeats exactly what she's told him the last seven times.

"I promise you he'll be fine, Mr Black. He's just asleep for now," before she walks away and leaves Sirius to watch his brother for a little longer.

The Regulus in front of him is breathing evenly, the cuts on his arms already healed, and the deeper ones on his chest and neck are covered in bandages. His hand is in a splint and doesn't have any of the awkward angles of bones poking out of his skin from before, and he looks like he's going to be okay.

The problem is, Sirius can't get rid of the image in his head of the Regulus who lay at his feet covered in blood, spluttering water he couldn't get away from but called for Sirius anyway while reaching out with a broken hand, begging him to save him.

He was bleeding. He was drowning. He was dying.

The mere thought of it makes Sirius break out into cold sweats again, and there's no one around to stop him as he reaches out and gently touches Regulus' skin before his hand snaps back in shock at how cold it feels.

A sharp spike of terror grips him, and before he can stop himself, he's shaking Regulus desperately, who groans weakly as his eyelids flutter open even though his eyes are still hazy.

"You're okay," Sirius gasps, his entire body wilting in relief. Regulus' head follows the noise and blinks slowly in his direction but doesn't seem to focus on anything.

"I love you, it's okay, you can go back to sleep now," Sirius whispers. "You just have to promise to wake up again."

"Mmmm," Regulus hums in what Sirius hopes is affirmation before his eyes drift shut. 

Sirius breaks down crying anew, which he's still doing when his parents step through the door, and his mum comes straight for him and holds him tightly while his dad sits on the chair next to him and starts talking quietly to Regulus.

Sirius continues to cry and only shrugs half-heartedly anytime they try to ask him a question to distract him, so eventually, they all sit in silence and wait for Regulus to wake up.

Regulus can hear whispers surrounding him, just like he did the first night he woke up in his new life.

There are an awful lot of things that feel similar.

Burning throat. Pounding headache. Phantom pains of claws across his skin. Lying on a soft bed that he doesn't remember getting into.

Then, in an eerie sense of déjà vu that does nothing to settle his vertigo, he rolls over and throws up what feels like far too much water to be healthy or survivable.

"Oh darling," he hears his mother say, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "This feels all too familiar, doesn't it?" 

Regulus freezes and then hesitantly opens his eyes, wondering if he's somehow stuck in a time loop because everything is feeling eerily similar to this day six weeks ago, but he's not in his bed in Grimmauld Place; he's in the Hospital Wing. 

His parents are here, which is something they've never done, even after he fractured his skull during fourth year and was nearly transferred to St Mungo's, so at least he knows he's still in the same timeline, but that still doesn't explain why he isn't waking up alone.

"Why are you here?" he asks his mother in surprise, wondering why she would have stayed this long when he's clearly alive, except it sounds more like a broken wheeze that strains his throat and leaves him coughing.

"Because you're my son," she replies, watching him with wet eyes as she continues to brush his hair across his forehead. Regulus nods hesitantly before he looks up to see his father and tries to remember what James' dad did.

"Don't you have head auror things to be doing?" he rasps, hoping his guess was right.

"Dad things will always be more important," he replies tenderly, squeezing his hand, which Regulus belatedly realises he's already holding.

Regulus nods, feeling loved, as he continues to piece everything together.

"How long have you been here for?" he asks next. "Are you going soon?" 

"We've been here for almost sixteen hours, and we won't go anywhere until you're ready," his father tells him softly before his face hardens with resolve. "After that, I'm going to go straight back to the office, and I won't come home until those boys are charged for trying to kill my son."

"They didn't –" he begins before a pinched look from his mother and a searing pain across his neck cuts him off. That's the moment it truly hits Regulus that he was assaulted by his classmates who cut up his body, broke his hand and poured water on him until he had a panic attack and then kept going in the hopes he'd drown, all only forty-five days after he fell into the lake and had the inferi do the exact same thing.

He knew he hadn't imagined the laughter.

He looks at his parents, who came to see him after five weeks of ignoring letters and lying about everything because they thought there was a chance he might want them. They want to know that he's okay and are here just like they'd said they'd be if they thought he'd ever need them.

The thought is so comforting that the rush of emotions becomes almost overwhelming, and Regulus does the last thing he was expecting himself to do and starts to cry.

In his old life, everything was easy. He was Regulus Black, the unofficial head of Slytherin and came from a wealthy pureblood family with a strong reputation for revenge. Nobody would have dared to do anything like this, but now that his family are blood traitors, he has no doubt that this act will be encouraged, if not rewarded.

The other Slytherin purebloods won't want Mulciber, Avery and Wilkes to get all the credit for putting Regulus in the hospital, either. Word will already be circulating around the school, and now everyone will make water-related jokes for the next three years. He's going to be ridiculed, and even though it's probably well-deserved after how much of his past life he spent being a stuck-up pureblood elitist prick, he still doesn't want to deal with any of it.

He doesn't know what to do and thinks his parents could help him for once, but doesn't know how to ask, so he cries instead. Then his mother is hugging him, and his father is still holding his hand.

"We love you," she tells him fiercely. "You're safe, and you're okay, and this will never happen again."

"It might," he confesses, which is a genuine fear that has his heart beating erratically, undoubtedly on display for Madame Pomfrey with the monitoring spell on him. He's had fifteen years of composure and etiquette training, but it won't keep back the extreme terror at the prospect of a reoccurrence. Even the glass of water on the bedside table is making him feel sick. 

"You don't know them like I do," he gasps, panic coming in waves he can't swim past. "They won't stop. They'll never stop. I don't know how to stop them –"

"Regulus," his father interrupts firmly. "I'll put them in Azkaban; they'll never touch you again."

"That won't work, they can buy their way out, they won't even be expelled, and it'll happen again and –" he's rambling, feeling like a little kid with his vulnerability on such clear display, but his father cuts him off with fire in his eyes as he says "I'm Head Auror which means I know exactly how the law works and exactly who owes me favours if I need to add a new one."

"That seems illegal," Regulus frowns, trying to figure out how that would even work since his dad wants to do things officially.

"So is trying to kill the Head Auror's son," he replies dangerously. "Those boys are lucky that all I'm breaking is the law."

Then he gives him a strong hug, a little too tight for comfort, but it shows the desperate emotions within him and is the first time Regulus truly feels like his son. He knows he doesn't deserve it, but he can't bring himself to push him away.

"Where did Sirius go?" he asks instead of replying to what he said, and his mother smiles softly like she was waiting for him to ask as she tilts her head towards the other side of the bed where Sirius is staring at him silently with red-rimmed eyes.

Regulus wonders if maybe something happened to him, too, because Sirius is never quiet and never cries, but he doesn't seem inclined to answer any questions Regulus may have.

"We'll leave you to talk for a while. We have to speak with Dumbledore, but we wanted to wait until you'd woken up, okay?" his mum tells him, and Regulus nods hesitantly and watches as his dad casts wards around his bed before gesturing towards the door.

"Sirius, stay with your brother, alright?" he checks, and Sirius nods silently before they leave with a promise to return within half an hour. 

Then Regulus turns to look at Sirius, who can't seem to make eye contact and still hasn't said a word.

"You can say I told you so if it'll make you feel better," Regulus says as something to fill the silence, and Sirius just stares at him in shock for a long moment.

Then a choked up, "That's not funny, you were dying Regulus."

"Felt like it," he mutters darkly as he pulls the duvet a little tighter around himself to keep the warmth in, and when he looks back at Sirius, he's crying. Again.

Regulus doesn't know what to say to cheer him up because he's actually never seen Sirius cry before. It's deeply unsettling and honestly makes him more anxious than the prospect of being drowned again.

"I'm fine, Sirius," he says, trying to reassure him, even though it's kind of a lie. He feels shaky, and off, and desperately on edge, but physically he's not about to die, so he counts it as a win. "You can see me now, I'm okay. You didn't even know what was happening until I was already healed, so –"

"I found you," Sirius interrupts, voice cracking, as he rubs his eyes. "I saw you at the end of their wands, and I heard you try to scream, except you couldn't because you were drowning, and then I couldn't get you to wake up, so James was the one who cleared your lungs when your lips turned blue –"

"James was there?" Regulus blurts out, feeling desperately embarrassed at the thought of being seen in that state. "James saw me cry?"

"How the fuck is that your concern right now?" Sirius asks incredulously. "You should be hating me for not trying harder to talk to you and not doing enough as your brother to stop things before they got this bad, but instead, you're ashamed that your stupid fucking crush saw you –" Then Sirius' voice gets too high pitched to continue so he takes a deep breath and then blows it out slowly.

"I've never seen you cry like this," Regulus says, which is possibly a stupid thing to say.

"I've never seen you hurt like this," Sirius replies simply, which is a question and answer all in one, but when Sirius doesn't seem inclined to expand on his answer, Regulus tries to absolve some of his unnecessary guilt.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?" he replies nervously.

"I'm glad you're you," is all Regulus says, which isn't at all what he'd planned out in his head, which makes Sirius look at him with faint amusement and say teasingly, "and James told me you were the one who was good at compliments."

Regulus flushes, then scowls, then ignores Sirius entirely until the bed dips as Sirius lies next to him, which is far more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"It'll work out, Reggie," he says quietly as they stare at the ceiling together. "It'll just take some time."

"When they get expelled, that'll help things get better, though," Regulus says in an effort to reassure them both. "They'll be gone, I'll be okay, and things will get better."

"Yeah," Sirius replies fondly, bumping his shoulder with his and letting out a huff of soft laughter. "That too."

Chapter Text

When James was seven years old, he was walking through Muggle London with his parents to get to Diagon Alley when he saw a cat run across the road and get hit by a car.

The brakes slammed, the cat howled, and the driver of the car got out and wept with him as the cat continued to let out quiet whimpers.

James had tried to run to the cat, too, hoping to comfort it, but the leashing spell his parents cast on him every time they went out wouldn't let him leave their side.

He'd cried out to it though, and watched as the cat turned its head to look at him from where it lay in the man's arms. James didn't know much about cats then, but he knew it wasn't afraid.

"Lacy," the man had whispered after reading her collar. "I'm so sorry."

Then the whimpers stopped, and the cat was still.

After the man had left the cat on the side of the road, wrapped in a blanket, and driven away, James had begged his parents to let him take it home to bury.

"You're making a scene," his mother had snapped, gripping his wrist and pulling him along, uncaring that her fingers pressed on the cuts from last night's punishment.

"Please," he had begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, I'll be good, just let me bury it."

His father had vanished the cat and walked away, and his mother had dragged him away, silencing him when he wouldn't stop screaming, and the last thing he'd seen was the blood on the road before he was dragged into the Leaky Cauldron, the simple act of kindness still stuck in his mind.

His parents' lectures about how all muggles are evil and will destroy the world never stuck after that, and he vowed to himself in the world they created where everything is harsh and unrelenting, James would always be kind.

It came easy most of the time, but being kind to other people is always so much easier than being kind to himself. Especially now as he, Remus and Peter sit in silence outside the Hospital Wing, listening to the sobs of their best friend on the other side of the wall.

Remus is here for his boyfriend's brother.

Peter is here for his best friend's brother.

James is just here for Regulus.

Of course, he's here for Sirius, too, but he knows Sirius will be okay. Nobody knows if Regulus will be.

Remus is fiddling with a cross necklace around his neck that he once said he wore because his mum liked the Jesus guy it represented. Usually, it lies hidden under his shirt, but he's holding it tightly today as if he's trying to will the Jesus to life. Remus said he doesn't believe he's real because the miracles he performed seemed unlikely, but it looks like he's hoping for one today.

Peter has his thinking face on, the one he always has before he announces their greatest prank to date and keeps scribbling things in his notebook, but James doesn't have the energy to ask what it's about. He doesn't know how anyone can be thinking about pranks when Regulus might not wake up, so he slumps back against the wall and starts picking around his already-bitten nails, feeling a deep sense of relief as they begin to bleed.

He tries to hide this part of himself and wishes there was a way to reach into his brain and rewire all the broken neurons and faulty parts to make him less like himself and more like Sirius.

He hasn't had it this bad in a long time.

He has his friends to distract him when he feels alone. He has quidditch when he has too much energy. He has his calendar of inspirational quotes when he's lacking hope. He has a lot of ways to distract himself that usually work, but when he runs out of options, the only way he can find release is to make himself bleed and feel all of his failures flow out of him and drip down his skin.

How could you have missed this,  James thinks desperately. Sirius knew when you needed saving; how could you not return the favour to his brother ?

Another nail bleeding. Eight more to go.

How couldn’t you notice? You're supposed to be the expert on this, but now he has it worse than you. How did you get things so wrong?

When his right hand is red, he changes to his left.

"This is my little brother, Reggie," Sirius had said on the train at the start of second year. James had smiled and said hello. Regulus had blushed and waved.

"He can be shy and a little naïve sometimes, so just help me look out for him, yeah?" Sirius had whispered that night back in the dorm, and James hadn't hesitated in his reply.

"Of course I will."

What a lie. What a lie. What a lie.

All his fingers are bleeding now, but he still doesn’t feel clean which is only adding to his stress as he desperately tries to find another outlet for his broken mind.

When he can’t, his self-hatred gradually morphs into what he almost identifies as grief. 

He's going to lose his friends. He's going to lose Sirius. He's going to lose everything.

He doesn't know what he would've done next, but never finds out as two pairs of footsteps sound out they all watch as Walburga and Orion almost run towards them. James tenses instinctively, expecting to be slapped, but Walburga pulls him off the ground and wraps him in a tight hug that he's too startled to process.

"We heard how you kept him breathing until Madame Pomfrey could get there, so thank you, James," she whispers earnestly, voice full of emotion as she kisses the crown of his head before she looks at his hands sadly and heals them quickly. "We'll see you at Christmas," she says quietly before letting him go, but James couldn't care less about being a Death Eater right now.

He'd take the mark ten times over if it meant Regulus lived.

"Will Reg be okay?" James asks, voice wobbling as he begs for an answer, and he sees how both parents wince and look at each other for a long moment.

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Orion answers before they enter the Hospital Wing and close the door behind them.

It feels like a lifetime but probably isn't longer than a few minutes until Walburga returns.

"He's alive," she tells them, looking like she's just witnessed a miracle. "He has a concussion and broken wrist, and there are no internal injuries that can't be healed."

James feels like he can finally breathe for the first time in hours. He's okay. He's okay. He'll be okay.

Maybe Remus' mum was onto something when she said Jesus could perform miracles; he'll have to ask her more about him next time he sees her, but he has no idea what to do right now.

Sirius is with his parents and will want to be alone. Remus probably wants to also be with Sirius but is stuck out here too, and Peter…

"Crouch is Regulus' best friend, right?" Peter asks as he writes one last sentence and then snaps his notebook shut, a determined gleam in his eyes as his eyes flick between Remus and James.

"Him and Rosier are," Remus replies. "They're always a little group of three wherever they go."

"Rosier won't support this; give me the map so I can find Crouch because he'll have the ideas, and I've got the spellwork," he demands, almost rushing over his words in excitement. James hands it to him, hand still shaking as he reaches into his pocket, and Peter's eyes scan it rapidly until his entire face lights up.

"Pete," Remus says warningly, but Peter either doesn't hear or doesn't bother to listen to him.

"You've got James, right?" he asks Remus, as James half wants to protest that he doesn't need looking after but still can't find the energy to move.

"Yeah, I've got him," Remus replies. "Where are you going?"

"To find Crouch."

"And then what?"

"Then we'll find Mulciber, Avery and Wilkes."

"And then what?" Remus asks, looking half resigned and half desperate to know the answer, and Peter's entire face lights up with excitement and promise for revenge as he declares, "We're going to fuck up their lives."

Regulus wakes up.

Sirius is there.

Regulus goes back to sleep.

Regulus wakes up.

Sirius is still there.

Regulus goes back to sleep.

Regulus wakes up.

Sirius isn't there, but –

"James?" he blurts out, wondering how long he's been here and when he last washed his hair. He goes to sit up so it doesn't look like he's just been asleep for the past two days even though that’s exactly what he’s done, but instead gasps in pain as the movement pulls the still-healing wounds on his stomach.

"Reg? Are you okay? What do you need?" James asks fretfully, hands reaching over and hovering above his chest but pulling away before they can touch him.

Regulus stupidly, pathetically, wishes he would close the distance.

"What are you doing here?" he asks instead, not entirely answering James' question, but it makes James reel back like he's just been slapped.

"I can go if you want," James replies, looking like his nightmares are coming to life, but Regulus doesn't think now is the right time to explain that he never wants that, but also yes, go, but only for five minutes so he can make himself look presentable.

"No, stay. I meant to ask where is Sirius?" he explain with difficultly, the haze of pain potions swirling around his brain and making it hard to keep his train of thought.

James is quick to reassure him. "He's with your parents in Dumbledore's office helping give the rundown on…" before he trails off and gestures uselessly while his growing panic about describing the situation is etched on his face.

"Yeah, I get it, James," Regulus mutters, not wanting to talk about it more than he has to. "Do I have to talk to him as well?"

"Uhh," James says, dragging the word out and looking suspicious which makes Regulus narrow his eyes.

"What?" he demands.

"Your mum said you needed to rest and can talk to him when and if you're ready."

"And?"

"Your dad said they're going to Azkaban regardless, so you don't have to talk to him at all now that it’s a Ministry case instead of a school issue," voice increasing in pitch.

"And?"

"And Sirius told him he can go fuck himself when he asked, so he has detention for another half hour, and asked me to stay with you until he gets back," James sighs, looking resigned.

Regulus relates to the resignation, but is also secretly pleased. He wishes he could have told Dumbledore to go fuck himself too.

"How long were you watching me sleep then?" 

"About an hour," James replies before his face lights up teasingly. "You don't snore much, though. No need to get self-conscious."

"I don't –" Regulus protests, but James' laughter cuts him off and he tries to scowl but his lips curl up at the corners instead.

Then the brief moment of light-heartedness disappears quickly with a sombre expression which Regulus forces himself not to roll his eyes at

"Reg," James begins, voice strained. "Can I just start by apologising –"

"It wasn't your fault either, James," Regulus interrupts, "I'm only going to tell you the exact same things that I told Sirius."

"He won't believe you; he'll blame himself anyways," James replies, looking torn, and unfortunately, Regulus thinks that's true. James and Sirius have always been alike.

"Well, you shouldn't."

"Let me apologise, okay?" James pleads, and Regulus doesn't want to hear it but lets him speak anyway. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry you felt you couldn't trust me, and I'm sorry I didn't try harder to find out what was really going on, and I'm sorry if you get sick of me in the next few weeks because me and Sirius aren't going to leave you alone."

"I'm okay, James," Regulus says, shaking his head. "You don't need to babysit me, I promise I’m okay."

"That's what I said too," James replies, holding up his wrist, "and yet."

Regulus is too taken aback to say anything and only blinks in surprise until James sighs apologetically but without regret before pulling three letters out of his bag.

"They're for you," he explains, holding them out for Regulus to take. "One is the one that couldn't reach you, one I wrote yesterday when you were still here, and the third is for tonight, but you can have it now since I was waiting to see you anyway."

"So you spent three days thinking of me?" Regulus teases, not knowing how to voice the complex emotions swirling around his stomach, which are only made worse as James gives him a lopsided smile and says, "Of course I did."

To stop himself from doing anything stupid or incriminating, Regulus shuts up and reads his letters.

Reg,

Do you remember that day during your first year when it snowed at Hogwarts? We all went outside to make snowmen and skate on the lake, but you tripped and cut your finger on your skates.

You asked Sirius if he could heal it for you, and he did. You asked for help, and he gave it to you. 

It's still that easy.

Happy Wednesday evening,

James.

"Well that didn't age well," Regulus says drily, gesturing at himself, and James' mouth drops open in scandalised horror.

"Regulus!" 

"Hmm?" he replies, raising an eyebrow in amusement, and James huffs and motions for him to open his next letter.

Regulus opens it laughing.

Reg,

I'm so glad you're alive.

Have you ever heard of Jesus? He's a muggle miracle worker who is also a god and is dead and alive at the same time; I don't really get it, but Remus said he prayed you'd be okay, and you were, so maybe I'll look into him.

You're the talk of the school; I think you'll hate it, but I did hear a couple of Hufflepuffs saying that there was a duel between you and Mulciber, and that's why his face looks wonky, but that's just what he looks like. You'll at least find that funny.

People are dumb. I thought I knew that when everyone found out Lily rejected me, but they're even worse now.

Not everyone is out to get you, though.

Marlene threw her transfigured pin cushion with the spikes facing outwards at someone who made fun of you, and Dorcas hexed them when they tried to fight back, and Professor McGonagall pretended she didn't see any of it.

Pandora somehow managed to change the Slytherin common room password for a night, so half the house had to sleep in the corridor, but no one can prove it was her.

Peter and Barty have done something, too, but they won't tell me what. I think they want you to be the first to know.

You're probably happier asleep to miss out on all the drama, but I hope you wake up soon.

I miss you.

I think every day will be a happy day compared to yesterday, but I'll wish you it anyway.

Happy Thursday evening,

James.

Reg,

I miss you. I know that's how I ended my last letter, but the point still stands. I really do miss you.

I sat at our table in the library and kept looking at your seat to talk to you since I'm so used to having you there, but I also don't know how I can forget the reason why you're not.

I think your friends want to get revenge, but I just want you to be okay. I did some research on Mr Jesus, and apparently, he's like a diary for your thoughts. He's supposed to make your wishes come true, so he's kind of like a genie, but anyway, I tried praying to him. I don't know if I did it right because it felt weird, but I guess I'll know if I get to see you today.

I trust Sirius, I always will, and he says you're awake and alive, but I really wish I could see for myself.

That's what I told Jesus ; I said "please let me see Reg today". I hope he isn't too much like a genie and won't grant my wish if I tell it to you, but it's too late now.

I miss getting your letters. I miss sitting at our table. I miss you.

Sorry if this is getting sad, but I suppose I am sad at the moment; I’ll be better once I know you've woken up.

Happy Friday evening,

James.

Regulus has never wanted to kiss James more. This is emphatically not the time, not that he has the option in the first place, but he wishes he could. 

James has kept writing him letters, and to Regulus, it feels like James has chosen to keep him. Regulus hopes he never finds a reason to change his mind and vows never to give one to him.

"Well," he says abruptly as he drops the parchment onto his lap. "Are you better now?" 

James only squints at him as if he's hoping for subtitles. "What?" 

"You said that you'd be better once you knew I woke up, and I have, so now I'm asking if you're alright," Regulus explains, talking to James feeling less awkward and far more natural than it used to, but so can't figure out why James is looking at him with such reverence for such a simple question.

"You are incredible," James breathes out in awe. "I hope you know that and never forget it; I'll even write it in your next letter if you want a visual reminder."

Regulus still doesn't know why James felt the need to tell him that, but he isn't complaining. It makes him smile, and makes him feel young again, and his smile stays when he sees his dad walk through the door before he realises what he's doing and freezes instead.

"How are you," his dad asks after flashing a quick smile to James, and Regulus nods before realising that isn't good enough of an answer.

"Good. Okay. I'm alright," and his dad breathes out, relieved, even though his arrival has brought a deep sense of foreboding.

"I've been talking to Dumbledore with your mum and brother, and I think I've got enough to charge those boys within a week," he begins, but Regulus is already surprised at how different Dumbledore seems to his last life.

"Dumbledore is helping you send them away?' he asks in surprise, thinking back to his last life where Dumbledore never did anything that didn't benefit himself, but his dad only looks annoyed but also slightly smug.

"He thinks the boys made a mistake and that a two-week detention will suffice, so your mother is yelling at him, and I've sent Sirius to have a shower and some food before he comes back here," he replies, clearly withholding exactly how he really feels.

"So they're staying?" Regulus asks, terror flooding into his veins at the thought of having to see them again, even though he knows it's cowardly and unbecoming and –

"They're going to prison within the week, Regulus," his dad replies with complete and utter certainty. "I've come to ask if you'll share the memory of the attack with me so it can support your brother's testimony, and then you don't need to give your own."

"No," Regulus says instantly, the thought of anyone seeing it, let alone his dad, making him want to curl up in shame, but when his dad continues to wait and let him think about it, Regulus gives it a little more consideration.

"What will you do with it?" he asks.

"Keep it for evidence, show my assistant who will be the witnessing authority on the case, and it should hopefully get those boys to prison within five days instead of ten."

Regulus doesn't want to give it to him, doesn't want him to think he's weak, and feels oddly embarrassed by the entire ordeal and how much attention his dad is giving him, but he also doesn't want to refuse and cause him to go away.

He doesn't want to give it to him but also knows he should. Should he give it, or should he keep it?

Give or keep.

Keep or give.

He looks over at James, who gives him an encouraging smile, obviously supportive either way, but Regulus can't decide, so he reverts to his default.

What would James Potter do?

The answer to that is, unfortunately, not the answer Regulus wants. 

It's naturally intimate to share a memory, let alone one like this, but at least this way, he'll never have to describe everything that happened out loud.

"You can have it, but don't show Sirius," he decides, waiting for his father to agree to his terms before he presses his wand to his temple and, concentrating on the memory, he watches as the pearly mist flows into a vial.

Then his dad pulls a portable pensive out of his pocket, sets it on the table at the end of the bed and dives in to watch it.

Regulus doesn't know why, but he didn't actually process that his dad was going to see it, not just the Head Auror, and definitely hadn't imagined he'd watch it in the same room as him. 

"Do you want me to fill the silence?" James asks.

"No." 

So, they sit in a tense, slightly awkward silence until the memory is finally over, and his dad reappears. The current look on his face is the closest he's ever gotten to looking like Regulus' real father, specifically the look he had the night he crucioed him for not stopping Sirius from leaving. He looks like he's ready to murder someone, and Regulus can't help but flinch as he comes closer before he hugs him so tightly that Regulus genuinely struggles to breathe.

Then his dad helps him lie back down, and switches back into Head Auror mode as he conjures three pairs of magical suppressing handcuffs, looking deeply satisfied as he swings them around his finger and marches toward the door.

"Those boys better hope they're outside because, after today, they'll never see the light of day again."

Sirius comes by shortly afterwards, still looking tired and upset but with clean hair and a change of clothes, but Regulus has barely had time to say hello until his friends start flooding through the door behind him.

"I told you he'd be alive."

"Well, sorry for being concerned."

"Worrying won't cheer him up, but do you know what will?"

"Barty, don't do it."

"Do it! It's the best thing that's happened at Hogwarts, and this is where Marlene asked me out."

"Don't tell him –"

"Tell me what?" Regulus asks resignedly, as Pandora runs over and wraps him in a hug before peering closely at his monitoring charms while Dorcas sits with Evan at the edge of the bed and Barty begins to speak.

"Your dad is fucking fit, did you know that?" he begins, looking awed, and Regulus recoils in half confusion and half disgust and tries to figure out how he might have come to that conclusion.

"Barty!" Evan hisses, looking annoyed.

"Get to the point," Dorcas replies, looking gleeful.

"Sorry, what?" Sirius interrupts, looking as scandalised as Regulus feels, but Barty ignores them all.

"Picture this: we're in the common room listening for gossip since your dad set a ward that would only allow family to be at your bedside until Mulciber, Avery, and Wilkes were out of the school, so we couldn’t do much else, and –"

"He did what?" James gasps, looking uncharacteristically stunned, but Barty doesn't pay him any notice.

"And so, Pandora and I were under Potter's invisibility cloak because of course he has one, and Mulciber is half bragging about what he did and half cursing me and Pettigrew out while putting up wanted signs around the common room, and Evan is trying to get me not to curse them again and Dorcas is trying to get Evan to relax –"

"Which didn't work."

"And then, the wall of the common room literally disappears, and your dad walks in, handcuffs them all and then tells them they've been sentenced to life in prison without parole for the attempted murder of his son."

Then Barty stands there, slightly out of breath, looking at Regulus expectantly, but for such a well-told story, it doesn't make much sense.

"What happened next?" he asks, trying to piece together the rest of it.

"There was just this complete silence," Dorcas answers, taking over the storytelling. "He made them walk out to the apparation point to shame them, and so everyone wrote home to their families, but Avery did say that nobody had ever got life in prison before for such a small crime. I think your dad wanted to kill him for that, but he apparated them before we could see what he did, and then the wards came down around your bed, and now we're here."

"Right…" Regulus says slowly, pushing down the elation flowing through him at the knowledge that Mulciber, Avery and Wilkes are gone, and trying to find another talking point before the relief of it makes him cry.

"What did you and Peter do?" he asks Barty, the last piece of the story that still has questions to be answered, which only creates more as Dorcas grins, Evan looks resigned, and Barty looks like all his dreams have come true.

"So," he begins dramatically, "while your brother was with you, Lupin was with Potter, Evan and Dora were crying –“

“Were not.”

“– and Dorcas was making sure Mulciber didn't come for you again, Pettigrew approached me with an intriguing offer."

"Get to the point."

"Quiet Evan. Anyway, Pettigrew told me that he'd been researching some spells and that he thought he could do some spell casting if I came up with the idea, as he lacked one that could truly bring comeuppance to both our friends."

"And?" Regulus asks impatiently.

"And, Pettigrew told me the most recent spell he'd learnt was a combination of a tattooing and a permanent sticking charms which he'd developed himself and meant the tattoo could never be removed but was also impossible to vanish or glamour, and that is when I had the intriguing idea that people can have more than one tattoo."

"Barty, are you going to explain things or not?" Regulus asks tiredly, so Barty finally concludes his story with a dramatic flourish, and says "We sent tattooing spells at their left forearms, so now there is not just the dark mark, but also a dick."

"What?" Regulus asks confusedly.

"What?" Sirius asks, already laughing.

"What?" James asks, looking incredulous.

"It's the Dark Mark sucking a dick! The dick mark! Now they're Dick Eaters for the Dick Lord!" Barty exclaims, looking annoyed to be having to explain it.

Regulus just huffs incredulous laughter at the thought of them going to the Dark Lord like that, but Sirius speaks first as he reaches over the bed to shake Barty's hand before declaring, "I need to find Peter and marry him."

"Is that not, like, a felony or something," Regulus asks, admittedly amused by the story but also hoping his friends don't incriminate themselves.

Evan looks entirely on his side, but Barty just shrugs away his concern and says, "Your dad cleared my wand, so they'll never prove it was me."

"It's illegal to clear a wand's history, though," Regulus blurts out, genuinely concerned now that his friends will also be going to prison, but Sirius bats him impatiently. 

"Our dad is the Head Auror Reggie; he makes the law, so he's not going to send himself to prison, is he?"

"No," Regulus admits sullenly, not liking to be wrong about things, which Sirius clearly knows as he sits back smugly in his chair. 

"When are you released?" Pandora asks, still watching his heartbeat on the monitor.

"Tomorrow, I think."

"Back to having a full dorm again," Barty exclaims enthusiastically, and Regulus freezes before looking at Sirius desperately, hoping he has more plausible lies than the ones Regulus is failing to come up with.

"Our parents want Regulus to stay with me until his stitches are off," Sirius says, looking inconvenienced. "Might take a few weeks, though, so your dorm will be empty for a while longer."

His friends look disappointed but obviously understanding. Regulus is just grateful that none of them have enough medical knowledge to know he doesn't actually have any.

"You'll still be in class, right?" Dorcas checks next. "I'll see you in runes and transfiguration?"

"I've got next week off, but I'll be there," he confirms, which seems to appease her enough. Then she starts telling him everything else he's missed out on while he's been away, including the new outfit she's already started designing for next year's yule ball and how she might have a fashion design internship in Milan over the summer. Then Evan is ranting to James about Barty, who is whispering more details of the tattooing incident to Sirius. 

It's bright and happy, and there's laughter everywhere, so the atmosphere they leave behind when Madame Pomfrey kicks them out leaves Regulus feeling whole again.

James is the last to go and is almost out the door before Regulus catches sight of the letters again and remembers what they mean.

"James, wait," he calls, rummaging through Sirius' schoolbag and ignoring the look he gives him as he writes down a quick message on some parchment, then folds it twice and hands it to James.

"Tomorrow's letter," he explains, heartrate spiking on the monitor as he watches James grin. "It's only short, but no owls allowed in the Hospital Wing, so early delivery, I guess."

"I've written essays shorter than that letter," Sirius mutters, but Regulus only frowns at him while James smiles innocently.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Reg," James says, smiling and waving as he goes.

"See you tomorrow, James," Regulus replies, blaming the breathlessness in his voice on his recovering lungs and rolling over so he doesn't have to watch Sirius laugh at him.

Getting discharged from the Hospital Wing turns out to be a relatively straightforward process, and after being prescribed pain potions and a physiotherapy schedule for his wrist, he's allowed to leave, but Regulus can barely bring himself to walk out the door. 

Sirius walks out, though, and Regulus doesn't want to leave Sirius, so he walks through the door too.

Sirius goes up the stairs instead of down. So does Regulus.

Sirius doesn't tell him to go away. Regulus doesn't.

Sirius goes through a portrait hole to the Gryffindor Common room. So does Regulus.

Then they're standing in the middle of Sirius' dorm, which is conveniently empty, and even though he assumes past him has been here, this version of him never has.

Regulus' first thought is how much brighter it is than in the dungeons. His second thought is how obvious the owners of the beds are.

The one closest to the door is James' because of the broom against the wall, the quidditch uniform with the number seven draped over the chair and the calendar over his desk with a new inspirational quote for each day.

Today's is "The opposite of courage is not cowardice, but fear," which feels scarily accurate. 

Then there is Sirius's bed, partly because the sheets are the same type they have at home, partly because there's a photo of a stupid motorbike on the wall and partly because there's a little framed photo of their family on his bedside table that was taken on Regulus' tenth birthday, two months before Sirius went to Hogwarts.

Regulus remembers that day and remembers wearing those clothes, but he doesn't remember laughing, or his father giving him a shoulder ride, or his mother bringing out a cake and singing Happy Birthday to him.

He duplicates the photo anyway and slips it in his pocket.

The next bed is Remus' partly because there's a huge pile of books that stack up underneath it, partly because there's a strange golden horn on top of a rotating circle that looks distinctly muggle, and partly because Sirius is fussing over it and making the bed which he never does to his own.

"Why do you make his bed but never mine?" Regulus asks half-heartedly as he pulls the covers up on Sirius’ and then sits on them, pulling his knees to his chest.

"Because you'd tell me I did it wrong and then remake it yourself, so it's a wasted effort," Sirius replies distractedly, rotating the pillow, flipping it over, huffing, and then putting it back where it started. "Moony thinks it's because he's the house elf's favourite, so I always make it for him to keep the illusion."

Regulus privately thinks Remus lets Sirius do it because they're both useless and in love, but he lets Sirius think it anyway.

Peter’s is the last bed, closest to the bathroom, and has his school bag shoved under his bed and stacks and stacks of chess sets and gobstone sets and exploding snap cards that make his bed seem smaller by the sheer amount of shit that surrounds it.

He has the generic school wall planner on his wall with nothing written on it, but he has all of his books in different colours of the rainbow, which James told him was a show of allyship when Remus and Sirius went public as a couple.

Sirius eventually finishes making Remus' bed, even though it looks no different from before, and then sits on it so he's facing Regulus.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Tired?"

"No."

"Do you want to do anything? Go flying? Go for a walk? I can sneak us out to Hogsmeade if you like."

Sirius seems to genuinely want to make him happy and do something brotherly to cheer him up, but even though Regulus knows Mulciber and the others are gone, there's still the rest of the school to worry about. He knows the ordeal isn't over yet but wants to keep the illusion of safety he's created for himself under Sirius’ glow-in-the-dark stars.

"I'll just stay here if that's okay," he says quietly, pulling on a pullover he doesn't need and staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, Reggie," Sirius replies, sounding sad. "That's okay."

James is sitting at his and Regulus' table in the library and staring at the empty seat opposite him.

He told himself he'd come here to do homework, but his bag still lies unpacked at his feet; he's not used to being alone.

Regulus and Sirius are in the dorm, and James is trying to give them space and to do whatever brothers do, but with Remus busy tutoring and Peter at his duelling club, he hasn't got anyone to go to.

Mary spends her free periods working as Madame Pomfrey's apprentice in her accelerate-healing programme, and Marlene is at her weekly meeting with Professor McGonagall that she was ordered to have after she'd get too angry during quidditch which then flowed into the classroom, so now she has what everybody privately calls anger-management therapy, but no one says to her face.

There's also Lily, but, well. James may or may not be avoiding her.

He's not doing it maliciously; he just genuinely doesn't know how to talk to her anymore, so he's not. He still loves her, is still trying not to, and thinks he's getting better given how much he's thought of Regulus instead of her while he's been in the Hospital, but he's lost all sense of their dynamic.

He can't keep acting the way he has been towards her, which she expressed, and he understood, but he's still trying to process that the way he loved her was wrong. He doesn't know how you can love someone wrongly, but the fact that he’s the only one who can isn’t something he’s proud of.

He doesn't want to hurt her again but is scared he will, so he's figured it's best to eliminate the chance of it happening, so now it's been over three weeks since they've talked one-on-one.

He's thinking of Lily, then feeling bad for thinking of her when Regulus is in the Hospital, then thinking of her and how he made her feel, then thinking of Regulus and how he must be feeling and getting all his thoughts about the pair of them all tangled up in his head.

He can't run back to the dorm to sort things out or run to any of his other friends to try and puzzle through it right now, so he feels like he should have almost expected it when fate causes Lily to drop down onto the seat diagonal to him.

He still jumps in fright, though, and then stupidly feels relieved that she's not in Regulus' seat. His next thought is confusion about why she's voluntarily spending time with him when she made it clear that it isn't something she enjoys.

"Lily?" he asks confusedly, wondering if his stress-induced sleep deprivation is causing him to hallucinate.

"James," she replies wryly. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I've been –"

"Avoiding me."

"– Busy," he finishes before he jolts and stares at Lily, remarkably called out, even though he knows exactly what he's been doing.

He doesn't say anything, though, knowing he has no excuse and that a fight has been brewing between them until he could bring up the courage to face her, but now really isn't the best time for it. He wishes he could return to his dorm and reread his letters to cheer himself up, but he can't.

But oh, how he wishes he could.

"You've had a long week, haven't you?" she asks rhetorically, and he knows she isn't expecting an answer but nods anyway.

"Yeah," he says, laughing bitterly into his hands. "You could say that."

"I haven't talked to you in longer," she says next, and James is still expecting a fight, but she doesn't seem mad. She seems to care instead, which isn't a feeling he's used to from her, and the list he wrote about how to be a better man to her flickers around in his head, and he tries to see if he can use any of that to help him figure this out.

Respect her and let her tell you when she feels disrespected.

"I've been trying not to disrespect you," he says eventually, but Lily doesn't seem very impressed.

"By ignoring me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow to express her scepticism.

"No!" James protests instantly before he realises that maybe, like usual, they've interpreted his actions differently. "I'm just trying to get things right with you, but I don't know how, so instead I've been –" Then he trails off, trying to find the right words but finding none.

Lily seems to understand anyway. "I don't want you to feel like you have to try with me," she says softly. "I just want you to be James."

"But that's not enough!" he cries before he can stop himself, and then he slaps his hand over his mouth and stares in horror, wishing he hadn't voiced that out loud. It isn't even something he'd told Sirius yet, even though he's had conversations with him about it in his head.

Of course, you're enough, Prongs,  the Sirius in his head says. You're James fucking Potter!

James doesn't feel like him right now.

"Why?" Lily replies simply, and James lets himself go as he lists off on his fingers.

"You don't want to date me, and I don't know how to make things right between us. I can't make Sirius stop punching people. Remus is still limping, and I got exceeds expectations in Transfiguration when I always get outstanding, and Peter took too long in the shower so I couldn’t have one and the zip on my bag got stuck today, and I don't want to sit here alone, but I can't go back to the dorm right now because Regulus is there because I didn't even notice –"

Then his voice cracks, and he can't swallow down the lump in his throat for long enough to form any words. He presses his hands firmly over his eyes as his breath stutters in his throat, and he tries to stave away the tears, but it doesn't work.

The tears start flowing, and he sits there for an undeterminable amount of time, crying into his hands, and after a slight bit of movement, Lily is hugging him.

It's the first time she's ever done this, and he wishes it were under different circumstances, but the ones he planned out in his head don't feel right anymore. This moment, inexplicably, somehow does.

"It wasn't your fault, James," she murmurs as she rubs his back. "It wasn't Sirius' either."

"You weren't there; you don't know what happened," he argues weakly.

"James, the whole school knows what happened," she replies gently. "Remus filled me in on the details as well, so if you're busy and need someone to sit with Regulus, then I'll know what happened too."

"Oh," James says before promptly breaking down again, but it feels a little freer than before. He's still guilty, still worried, and still feels bad, but the feelings are a little dimmer than ten minutes ago.

He eventually manages to stop crying, sitting in his seat and thinking Lily definitely won't find him attractive like this, then feeling bad for his self-pity when Regulus was just attacked, but Lily breaks him out of his haze quite nicely.

"James," she says firmly before taking a deep breath. "Would you like to teach me how to fly?"

"How to fly?" he asks incredulously, neck cracking as his head snaps around to gape. "I've been asking you for years! I thought you hated heights; I bet I can get you to score a goal within an hour. I can cast an enlargement charm on the hoops to make it easier if you like –" 

Then he cuts himself off and restarts his sentence. "Lily, what would you like to do for your first flying lesson?"

"How about we start on the ground," Lily says faintly, looking mildly ill at the thought of being so high in the air. James nods immediately, then processes what she said and nods again.

"Okay, but not for too long," he says. "I told Sirius I'd be back at seven since he has another detention and –"

"Five hours is long enough, James," Lily says, laughing as she motions toward the door. "Come teach me how to fly."

"Look at them," Regulus hisses, staring through the dorm window while Sirius laughs at him. "They're practically holding hands; they don't need to stand that close. Oh, now they're laughing!"

"That's what friends do, Reggie," Sirius replies drily, looking far too amused at his distress, and Regulus pulls the finger at him and goes back to glaring out the window.

The dorm is small. He's feeling restless. He doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything, but he especially doesn't want to sit on the windowsill and watch his crush flirt with their crush on the quidditch pitch.

James hasn't even changed into his quidditch uniform, so absolutely no part of this is satisfying for him.

"James will be back by seven," Sirius tells him from where he's draped across his desk chair, feet up on a stack of books. "He'll be back soon."

"That's three hours away now, which is three more hours of flirting."

"Christ, Reggie, he's not flirting; let me show you," Sirius huffs, coming to the window before letting out his loudest laugh yet.

"He's on the ground, genuinely trying to teach her and isn't looping through the air and showing off," Sirius snorts. "As his best friend for six years, trust me when I say he isn't flirting and has moved on from Lily."

"To who," Regulus asks, latching instantly onto what Sirius has said, who seems to find this entire situation far too funny.

"If you asked him now, I'm quite certain he'd say he doesn't know."

"But you know," Regulus says, squinting at him suspiciously, and Sirius still looks entertained as he pulls Regulus away from the window. "You'll find out someday."

James,

As you said in your last letter, you are sad because of me. Is that how you phrased it? No, but it's one possible interpretation.

Before you feel any worse for yet another thing that isn't your fault, I have one of your favourite things about one of my favourite things: a fun fact about space.

Space isn't actually infinite; it's only perceived to be that way since the light waves from the most distant parts of the universe haven't reached the Earth yet- it's estimated to be about 46 billion light-years long, but the sun will explode and destroy our planet before we can find out for sure.

I ’m sure you didn't know that because your astronomy knowledge is lacking- mine however, is borderline savant, so you're welcome.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

Reg,

That is now my fourth fun fact (that you deem fun and factual enough) I have about space.

1. The one I told you already
2. The one you just told me
3. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky (his favourite fact ever)

The fourth one is that most stars travel through space in constellations or as celestial pairs, but the sun doesn't; it's always surrounded by stars and lives amongst the moons and planets, but they never stay. The sun is always destined to be alone.

I read that years ago and never forgot it, but I don't know why. It's sad.

Happy Saturday evening,

James.

James,

That fact was neither fun nor factual.

The actual fact is that the sun has always been alone so far. As I said in my previous letter, everything we know about space is in the past- when you look at my star, you're actually seeing what it looked like 77.6 years ago, so who knows what it really is like today? Nobody will for another 77.6 years.

The sun is the same.

When we look at the sun, we're actually seeing what it looked like 8 minutes ago. Maybe in those 8 minutes, it's found its celestial pair. Maybe it's just exploded. Maybe it's exactly the same as it was yesterday.

To us, it's only 8 minutes, but to the sun, it's the 8 minutes it gets to change its life before the entire world knows about it.

Space isn't that complicated, really. It's nothing more than a graveyard of stars that people find beauty in from Earth, while the sun is our portal to the near past.

That's probably my longest letter yet, but I'm sure you'll appreciate it anyway. I told you I knew a lot about stars.

Happy Sunday,

Reg (the twenty-first brightest star in the sky)

Reg,

Why was that both reprimanding and educational at the same time? I've never met someone who can multitask as effortlessly as you.

How were you so rude? How were you so inspirational? I don't understand, but you were right; I did appreciate the letter.

It seems like you've thought a lot about the sun. The graveyard comment was miserable. I'll always think about you when I see the stars now.

Happy Sunday evening,

James.

Sirius had made it clear that he wasn't going to let Regulus out of his sight, and Regulus knew he'd be protective but, stupidly, hadn't expected him to be quite so literal about it.

Sirius looks out for him, wants him to try and be happy, and hasn't left his dorm in five days, despite how much Regulus knows he wants to. He hasn't been to class, has been entirely unbothered about everything except Regulus, and has been happy to let him choose what they do and if they even do anything.

The only exceptions to this are the three times Sirius has woken him up in the middle of the night, desperate to check he's still alive.

But otherwise, they sit. Or read. Or fight. Or talk. Or do homework. Or complain about school. Or complain about each other. 

The only thing they don't do is talk about what happened because Regulus doesn't bring it up, and Sirius doesn't make him.

They're in the middle of a game of gobstones, arguing purely for the sake of it, when Remus walks in.

Regulus hasn't seen much of Remus or Peter, who mostly leave them to take over the dorm and just come back to sleep. He sees slightly more of James but still nowhere as much as he'd like to, so he’s on guard as to the reason the routine has been broken.

"Moony?" Sirius asks in confusion, even though his face is softening as he reaches out for him, and Remus grabs his hand, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as Sirius leans his head back against him, tilting his face up and frowning.

"McGonagall wants you," Remus says, not bothering to sugarcoat his words, and Sirius sighs in response.

Regulus has an entire speech overflowing in his head about why he shouldn't go, why he shouldn’t leave him, but he can't make himself voice any of it.

"Why?" Sirius asks disinterestedly.

"For skipping a week of school."

"She knows why."

"Sirius."

"Tell her I'm not going."

"I have been since Tuesday," Remus tells him patiently before he whispers something to Sirius that Regulus can't make out.

Then Sirius and Remus have a long silent conversation that Regulus feels to be intruding on before Sirius nods reluctantly.

"Reggie…" Sirius begins, looking apologetic.

"No."

"I won't be long."

"I said no!"

Sirius just stands up and hugs him, looking sad when Regulus doesn't return it before he leaves and Remus stays behind.

"I don't need a babysitter," Regulus mutters, even though solitude right now would send him into hysterics.

"Yeah, but you want to read in silence, which you can't do with Sirius around," is all Remus replies, unbothered, which Regulus unfortunately can't disagree with.

Remus then drops onto his bed, picking up a book from his bedside table and Regulus sulks briefly before he sighs and does the same.

It's peaceful. Or it is until Regulus starts thinking and wonders if he's just gotten his brother in trouble again because he can't deal with his problems on his own.

Yet another common theme between the timelines.

"Remus?" he asks in what he hopes is a casual manner. "What do you think will happen to Sirius?"

He's genuinely worried about the answer, so he's almost offended when Remus laughs at him.

"What will McGonagall do to her favourite student?" he asks drily. "Absolutely nothing. She'll just give him a therapy session and make him tea."

"So he won't get properly punished?" he checks, and the waver in his voice that he tries to hide makes Remus turn to look at him properly.

"Regulus, Sirius could blow up a street and kill thirteen people, and McGonagall would still love him."

"Would you?" Regulus asks, the words leaving his mouth before he's thought them through, but Remus doesn't look mad.

"Well, he wouldn't," he replies, complete surety in his voice. "I know he'd have been framed, but hypothetically speaking, I'd still love him. I'd hate him for it, but I don't think love cares much about murder; it just wants to keep existing, you know?"

Regulus disagrees and thinks love cares deeply about Dark Marks and that the day he got his is the day Sirius' love for him ceased to exist.

The following Monday proves that idea wrong in every way possible, as Regulus leaves the dorm to go to class, and Sirius stays right by his side.

He's been dreading this day all week and doesn't want to live it when he already knows exactly what will happen. The Hufflepuff will stare. The Ravenclaw will laugh. The Gryffindors will ask too many questions. The Slytherins will try again.

Once again, the factor he always overlooks in his cataclysmic daydreams is Sirius.

Regulus hasn't been seen for almost a whole week, so he's all the entire school has been talking about. He isn't surprised when he enters the Great Hall, and all conversations stop.

"He's alive!"

"I thought he'd died!"

"I heard he'd lost his arms and was still in St Mungo's!"

"I heard his dad killed their families and wants all Slytherins executed."

"Black is a Slytherin, you idiot."

Then, one voice from Travers, a seventh-year Slytherin, rings out louder and clearer than the rest.

"Look who finally showed up," he sneers. "Did the big bad water scare you –"

Sirius cuts him off quite nicely by punching him in the face, and then steps over him from where he lies on the ground, blocking their path to the Gryffindor table.

"Mr Black!" Professor McGonagall calls out, utterly scandalised at his behaviour.

"Accidental magic, my apologies, Professor," he replies sardonically, entirely unrepentant, before dropping on a bench that Regulus nervously follows him to.

"Sirius! You can't go around hitting people like that," James hisses, sitting on the other side of Regulus and leaning over him to argue.

"I can if they're a dick," Sirius mutters, filling his plate and glaring at the entire Slytherin table.

"No, you can't," James keeps trying to explain. "I know it's not fair, but you can't let them get to you." 

"I'm not worried about them getting to me."

Both heads swivel to look at Regulus, who is picking at his breakfast that he hasn't got an appetite for.

"Don't bring me into this," he mutters, head down, fork pushing hash browns across his plate that he has no intention of eating.

"No, no, no, we have to," James replies, thinking quickly. "You get to decide if Sirius can punch people because he's for and I'm against, and since it's about you, you get to be the deciding factor."

Regulus doesn't doubt that Sirius will do whatever he likes, but since James is asking, he forces himself to think about it anyway.

He looks at Sirius, whose knuckles are faintly pink.

He looks at Travers, who is slowly walking from the Great Hall with the left side of his face swollen, bleeding and already bruising.

He looks back at Sirius.

"Do you think Remus would teach me how to punch like that?" he asks curiously, and Sirius whoops and punches the air.

James looks devastated.

"You can't solve violence with violence," James lectures, except their legs are touching from where they're squashed up on the bench together, and Regulus is finding it hard to concentrate on anything he's saying. "Self-defence is different, but retaliation doesn't have to hurt."

"I never said I'd do it," Regulus argues, "I just said I wanted to learn."

"But are you not bothered by Sirius when you see him punch someone to defend your honour?" James cries out, sounding genuinely distressed. "You can't be pleased by it, can you?"

"I mean…" Regulus says slowly, lips curling up softly at the corners.

"Oh you are, of course you are," James scoffs, sounding incredulous. "Sometimes, I don't understand you at all," but he seems more exasperated than annoyed, so Regulus doesn't take it to heart.

He's saved from needing to reply with the arrival of the post, and he watches James' face light up as he unties his letter.

Then Regulus snatches it out of his hand.

"Hey!"

"I wrote it; I can do what I like with it," Regulus replies distractedly, rummaging through his satchel for a self-inking quill and holding the letter at an angle so James can't read it.

"I thought the no take-backs rule didn't need to be voiced, but I can voice it now if you like," James argues indignantly.

"I'm literally adding one sentence, and then you can have it back.”

"Oh, okay."

Then Regulus casts a drying charm and refolds it before handing it to him, standing up, throwing his bag on his shoulder, and motioning toward Sirius.

"Reg?" they both ask in concerned unison.

"You're not reading that with me in the same room," Regulus says, slowly walking away and waiting for Sirius to run after him, just as he knew he would. Then the lecture comes, just as he knew it would.

"Reggie, what the fuck did you write that letter."

James,

The duality of man has always surprised people and will continue to do so for years to come.

Happy Monday, 

Reg.

PS: you say sometimes you don't understand me at all. Other times, I think you're the only person who does. 

James has always known Regulus had a crush on him, and it's especially obvious now. It doesn't seem as childish as it used to, seems much more real now, but he can't explain why.

The thought of rejecting him seems different, too, less pitying and more nauseating. There are lower chances now, but higher stakes.

Things are fine as they are now, though. They're both on the same page that they're friends, just friends, nothing more and nothing less, and if Regulus can respect that, then so can James.

He folds the letter carefully as he always does, tucks it in his textbook so it won't get crinkled and goes to class, prepared as always to have a good day.

Regulus has a bad day.

People talk. People laugh. People get a hold of muggle water guns and spray him with them as they run past, laughing when he flinches.

Sirius has detention for the next month for cursing three students and punching another five.

The first one starts soon, so Regulus is sitting with Sirius at his seat in the library, waiting for Peter to come walk Regulus back to the dorm s, but it isn't Peter who runs over; it's Lily.

Regulus glares on principle.

"Lily?" Sirius asks confusedly.

"I'll explain later, but Peter got detention for what you would deem worthy reasons, James has Quidditch sectionals, and Remus has his career advisory, so I'm here to stay with Regulus until James is done in forty minutes," she explains hurriedly before she and Sirius have a whispered conversation which leaves Sirius looking relieved before she sits down and Sirius stands up.

"You can't sit there; that's James' seat," Regulus hears himself say, fully expecting the be nice look Sirius sends his way, but Lily's mouth slowly drops open as she glances between the seat she's just stood up from, then to where Regulus sits, then back to "James' seat."

"Oh. My. God." she breathes, staring open-mouthed at Sirius.

"Yup," Sirius says resignedly, shaking his head and sharing a wry smile with Lily before he says goodbye.

Regulus is then left staring at Lily, who has just been having silent conversations with his brother about him and James.

Regulus knows exactly what it was about.

"Yeah, yeah, Regulus likes James. James will never like him back. Sorry, but get over yourself Regulus. You don't have to tell me this, I already know," he mutters sullenly, especially bitter since he's telling Lily this, who already is the object of all of James' affections, and he wishes James would hurry up and arrive so he can leave.

"You're a lot like your brother, you know," Lily says instead, which Regulus firmly disagrees with, and says nothing to. Lily keeps talking anyway.

"He's not very good at reading other people's feelings either."

"He does just fine," Regulus snaps before he can stop himself, unwilling to let her talk poorly of Sirius, but she just shakes her head in self-frustration.

"I didn't mean with you," she explains. "I meant when the feelings are romantic. Specifically with Remus."

"Well, clearly he did fine because they're dating now."

"Because Sirius pined and fell in love and Remus did the same, but Sirius didn't know how to voice his feelings or recognise flirting, and Remus didn't know how to recognise his own feelings or realise that he was flirting in the first place."

If Regulus ignores the happy outcome and flirting, he can reluctantly see Lily's point. There's nothing on Earth that could make him admit it.

"James doesn't flirt with me."

"Flirting with you would imply that he's aware he likes you," Lily replies, lips curled up at the corners, clearly holding back laughter, but none of this is funny.

"Well, he doesn't," Regulus says flatly, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears and looking down at the table, eyes tracing the pattern of the wood but not really seeing it. Lily takes the hint that he doesn't want to talk anymore and pulls out some parchment to start writing an assignment, but he doesn't look over her paper to find out what it's about.

Lily is obvious evidence that James knows when he loves someone because then so does the rest of the world, but Regulus has one place in James' life, and that's as his best friend's brother.

He doesn't say another word for the next half hour and continues to stare at James' seat, wishing he were here until Lily puts her textbooks away and breaks the silence.

"James will be in the dorm if you want to go back now," Lily says quietly, and Regulus nods, still without saying a word.

The silence continues as they walk up the stairs and down the seventh-floor corridor when two fifth-year Hufflepuffs screw the caps off their water bottles and throw them at Regulus, wetting his shirt and causing him to flinch and trip. They're still laughing as they run away, even as Lily yells that she knows their names and will tell Professor Sprout to organise a detention.

Lily casts a drying charm on him, but Regulus still feels cold. He wants to curl up in Sirius' bed and not move until tomorrow, which Lily seems to be able to tell because she doesn't talk to him except to ask if he's okay.

He hopes she doesn't take it personally when he remains silent, and before long, they're back at the dorm, and she and James exchange a few whispered words before the door closes and she's gone.

"Did you have a good day?" James asks him, smiling, an obvious buzz about him that comes after a good quidditch practice, and Regulus doesn't want to ruin that for him but also can't bring himself to lie right now.

"No," he answers quietly, and then James makes a fussy, concerned noise before stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug that Regulus leans into, pressing his face into his shoulder and James puts one arm around his back and the other on his neck.

It's nice; it's far nicer than it should be, but Regulus doesn't pull away, and James doesn't make him.

He just continues to hold him in the middle of the dorm where anyone could walk in, all because he thinks it might help, and Regulus feels himself falling harder.

"One day," James tells him softly, "you're going to come find me and say you were right, James; everything turned out to be okay."

"Why not today?" Regulus asks, voice slightly muffled from where his face is still pressed against his chest, so he feels the way James laughs slightly even though it sounds sad.

"Because you don't believe it today, but one day, I know that you will."

Regulus wants to ask him if he’ll promise it, wants to ask why he believes it so strongly, but already feels childish enough so he leans away, planning to go to Sirius' bed and sleep only to see the bed stripped with no linen.

"Where's –" he begins slowly.

"Oh," James replies, trying and failing not to laugh. "Peter walked in on Remus and Sirius making out on the bed and was supposed to draw the curtains but vanished the covers instead. We don't know where they went, but Sirius refuses to use the spare school ones, so your parents are sending a new set tomorrow."

"But that's my bed," Regulus says stupidly, staring at it in betrayal since he's slept there for the past two weeks, and hadn't braced himself for a change. He doesn't want to go back to his dorm and would rather sleep in the corridor than go to the Slytherin common room alone, so he turns to James, hoping he has a solution, only to see him shaking out his pillows and turning over the blankets.

"Stay here," James tells him, pointing at his bed. "You can have it to yourself, I've got homework to do for a few more hours anyway."

"But it's your bed."

"It's yours now," James shrugs, entirely unbothered, as he goes and sits down at his desk, still watching him, so Regulus frowns, admitting defeat before taking a letter out of his bag.

"Can you do me a favour?"

"Anything," James replies instantly.

"When someone gets back, can you post this for me?" he asks, holding it out and instead of immediately saying yes as expected, James just frowns.

"I'm right here, Reg," he says confusedly, reaching out a hand. "You can just give it to me, and I can wait until tomorrow to open it."

"James," Regulus replies pointedly, staring expectantly until he gets the message and looks surprisingly offended.

"I didn't know you wrote letters to other people," James scowls, oddly affronted, coming closer and trying to look at the name on the envelope.

"Well, I do," Regulus replies slowly, confused by his behaviour.

"But why? That's our thing," James argues, still protesting for reasons Regulus can't explain. "What would you have to write to other people that you couldn't just write me –" 

James cuts himself off when he sees the name on the envelope and shakes his head quickly as if resetting his thoughts before he takes the letter and sets it on his desk.

"Don't even worry about it, I'll post it when Remus is done tutoring," he says, flashing him a quick smile, and Regulus nods slowly, still trying to process the abrupt mood change before he goes to the bathroom to change.

When he comes back, James is writing his potions essay, earlier strop over the letter clearly forgotten.

"Are you sure –"

"It's fine, Reg, I promise," James says distractedly, focussing on his work. "I'll send your letter as soon as he's back."

"No, I meant –" he tries to explain, gesturing uselessly, but James understands as he gives him an encouraging smile and says sweetly "My bed is your bed."

Regulus' inner being riots as he nods casually and then closes the curtains around him, curling up in James' bed and grinning to himself.

It's James' bed. He's in James' bed. He's in James Potter's bed, and he knows he should be normal about this, but he doesn't know how to be.

There’s a quidditch poster of the Cardiff Coyotes above the headboard. There are four glow-in-the-dark stickers, a moon, a sun, a star and a planet, all holding hands, with James, Sirius, Remus and Peter's names on them on the ceiling. There's the white cotton sheet he's lying on with the red duvet and the striped blanket, and it all smells like James.

He lets himself fawn over it for a minute, smiling to himself and pulling James Potter's blankets over himself as he lies in James Potter's bed and his heart beats a staccato in his chest while he hears the distant sound of a quill scratching on parchment, broken by bursts of fingers tapping on the desk.

Regulus Black is in James Potter's bed.

He smiles again, shaking his head incredulously, and despite the exhilaration running through his body, it doesn't take him long before he falls asleep.

Dear Mum and Dad,

School is alright, and people are stupid. Sirius has been great, though, but don't tell him I said that.

I think he got a letter written home given his month-long detention, so I assume you know, but he looked pleased when he read your letter yesterday, so I don't think you mind.

I got 3 outstanding's and 2 exceeds expectations this week, but I have to reassess the potion I missed making in class on Saturday because Slughorn hates me for not joining his Slug Club.

My wrist is fine, my cuts are healed, and the one on my chest has scarred, but Remus has some scar ointment that is working slowly.

To answer your previous questions: Yes, Dorcas enjoyed Italy and may have a fashion internship there next summer. No, Dora doesn't need the book, but can you send her the one on hazardous botany instead? Evan seems alright, and I think he's staying here for Christmas and may move in with Barty instead of going home. I know you know what Barty has been up to. I can't bring myself to write it down. 

Thank you for being my parents; I'll write again after my pre-assessment exams next week and tell you how they went.

See you at Christmas,

Regulus.

Chapter Text

Regulus wakes to the sensation of being held, which is nice for all of three seconds until he remembers who he shares a bed with.

"Sirius?!?" he yelps, turning over to try and shove him backwards, but he pauses when he realises that he isn't face to face with his brother but with James.

Despite knowing that he fell asleep in James' bed, Regulus, for some stupid reason, didn't actually expect James to also get into it. He goes to wriggle away so he doesn't have to deal with some awkward interaction when James wakes up, but when he tries, James subconsciously tightens his grip around his waist.

He's aware he could easily lift James' hand off him, but when he tries to move, James' hand shifts so he's touching the bare skin where his shirt had ridden up, and every thought Regulus has promptly leaves his mind.

It can't hurt to watch him for a little bit. Right? 

Regulus takes his time. He's never had James all to himself like this before; he usually has to make do with stolen glances whenever he thinks he can get away with it, but right now, there's nobody around to catch him.

James' face is soft and slack where he's breathing evenly, and Regulus can't stop his mind from tracing hearts into his skin, forever grateful James wears singlets to bed, and he can let his gaze linger on his quidditch muscles that their school robes always manage to hide.  

"Deific,"  he whispers reverently before a wave of fondness pulses through him as he learns James smiles while he sleeps.

Regulus looks through the window and sees the sky glowing orange. It's sunrise.

When he looks back at James, his eyes are open.

"Morning."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Regulus cries, jumping in fright as James laughs at him.

"It's my bed," he says before a sly grin overtakes his face. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"No!" Regulus protests. "We woke up at the same time as each other."

"Actually, I woke up before you and have been faking it for twenty minutes," James replies, looking delighted, "so you were watching me sleep."

Regulus' can’t do anything but gape at the sheer audacity of James Potter, but is saved from needing to reply as the curtains swing open and Sirius looks down at them.

"Don't you two look cosy," he says mockingly before his mouth drops open. "It's been one night. Are you two cuddling?"

" Kind of."

"No, we're not!"  Regulus cries incredulously, shoving James' arm off from around his waist and standing at the other side of the bed to glare at Sirius.

"Kind of looks like you were," Sirius counters, and Regulus scowls as he shoves past him, slamming the bathroom door before he has his morning shower and very deliberately doesn't wash the left side of his ribs where he can still feel the imprint James' fingertips left behind.

Sirius loves James like no other, and his earliest memory of the two of them is laughing in the train compartment before the train had even left the station, but right now, he wants to throttle him for being so stupid.

He's watching him fall in love with his brother and hasn't got a clue he's doing it.

It's wholesome, though, and keeps him greatly entertained, so he lets it happen and helps slowly guide James to the right answer. However, there are still moments when he can't help but take the piss with Remus and Peter.

When James runs down to the common room to grab his potions essay that he left on the table, Sirius and Remus start sniggering, but it's Peter who starts crying with laughter, more awake than he's ever been at seven in the morning as he starts wheezing so badly that Sirius has to get up and hand him his inhaler.

"How long have you been awake for?" he asks once he's taken a few puffs. "Did you hear it all?"

"We heard it," Remus laughs as Sirius falls face-first into his lap. "You'd think they'd cast a silencing charm, but no, we all get to hear them flirt."

"I don't want to hear my baby brother flirt," Sirius moans and Remus just pats his head in commiseration and continues to laugh.

"And when Prongs admitted to watching Regulus sleep just so he could catch him out for doing the same thing," Remus tries to say, but he looks at Peter and starts laughing again, both setting each other off whenever they try to stop, but eventually, Peter stops laughing for long enough to try to bring Sirius out of his attention-seeking sulk.

"So you don't mind if they date?" he asks. "Bit late now, obviously, but you're truly okay with it?"

Sirius honestly doesn't mind. It'll take a bit of getting used to, sure, but he knows them, and he knows that them choosing to love each other doesn't mean they're choosing each other over Sirius.

It'll just be Sirius, his best friend and his brother, like always, except now his best friend and brother are also dating.

They're stupid but sweet. They write their daily letters, stay in the same bed, and watch each other sleep, and Sirius is honestly glad that James is moving on from Lily to someone who likes him back and that after the past few weeks Regulus has had, he's starting to look happy again.

"They're my brother and my best friend," he says out loud. "If it makes them happy, why wouldn't I want that?"

Remus looks pleased with his answer and leans down to kiss him, but then Sirius doesn't let him go, and half hears Peter tsk and draw the curtains around them.

"Do you think James will kiss your brother like this?" Remus asks lightly as he kisses him dirtily, pulling on his bottom lip and laughing when Sirius shoves him away in disgust.

"Don't talk about my brother when your tongue is down my throat," he snaps.

"I can put something down your throat if you like," Remus replies sweetly, even as his eyes darken, and Sirius tilts his head back in offering, hand fumbling around for his wand as he casts silencing and locking spells on the curtains to keeping everybody out.

"Good sleep?" Peter asks when James returns to the dorm, essay in hand.

"Yeah," he replies in slight surprise. "Best I've had in months."

It's not a joke, so he can't tell why Peter finds this so funny.

Reg,

I know you already know, but Sirius' birthday is next Wednesday, and we're sending the owl order off for his present tonight. Do you want to split the present with us, or are you doing your own thing?

Happy Tuesday evening,

James

James,

I'll do my own thing; you and I have very different ideas of acceptable birthday presents. I still remember when you hired literal ostriches to be his security guards when he turned thirteen, so no thank you in each and every capacity.

Happy Wednesday,

Reg.

Reg,

I know when your birthday is!!! Just because it's in the summer holidays, doesn't mean it can't be celebrated early!!!

Hypothetically speaking, what is your favourite animal?

Happy Wednesday evening,

James.

James,

Don't you fucking dare.

Happy Thursday,

Reg.

Reg,

Sirius told me it's penguins. Is that still true?

Happy Thursday Evening,

James.

James,

As per my last letter, don't you fucking dare.

Happy Friday,

Reg.

Sirius wakes up to the feeling of three bodies landing on his, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Then a chorus of "Happy birthday, Padfoot!" sounds out, and he laughs, trying and failing to sit up until the bodies get off him, and then he, Remus, Peter and James are sitting in a circle on his bed, just like they've done since he was eleven.

First comes the first of many renditions of Happy Birthday, before he reads the card that each person wrote their own message in, and then there’s the birthday present, which always comes in a group of three whether it's practical or not.

Last year, Peter wanted a vase of eternal-lasting tulips to go on his desk, so Remus wrapped up the flowers, and Sirius and James broke the vase outside then wrapped each half so they both had something to give and Peter had to cast reparo after it was opened.

This year is another three-part present, as James gives him the bigger present while Remus and Peter have the smaller, identical ones.

"A leather vest," he says approvingly, holding up James' present in admiration. 

Then, "A leather jacket!" he exclaims after unwrapping two sleeves from Peter and Remus, along with a seamless stitching guide that he reads quickly before casting the spell and putting the jacket on, giving everybody a show until they applaud for him.

"Reggie," Sirius calls, looking over where he's still lying on James' bed. "It looks good, right?"

"It does, you don't," he replies boredly, rolling his eyes when Sirius pulls the finger at him, and James quickly tries to play peacemaker.

"Reg, it's his birthday, so you have to be nice. Go give him your present or do whatever brothers do on birthdays."

"This is what they do," Regulus replies flatly while Sirius turns to look at him. 

"You got me a present?"

Instead of handing it over like he'd expected, Regulus almost seems to curl in on himself and sounds apprehensive when he says, "I'll give it to you later?"

"Okay," Sirius replies easily, and then a slightly long silence fills the air until Remus throws a little box at his head.

"Got you something extra," he says casually as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and leans back against the headboard, even though Sirius can see him watching closely as he pulls out a single silver cuff earring that has two chains dangling from it, a longer one with a moon and shorter one with a star.

"Where did you get it?" Sirius breathes out, already looking at it reverently and planning out how he'll get one to match for Remus' birthday. It'd have to be gold, though, because he can't wear silver, and he doesn't wear earrings, so it'd probably have to be a ring, and the moon and the star is their thing, so obviously that'll be the engraving.

Instead of replying to his question, though, Remus just throws another box at him.

"Give me six galleons and keep it safe for me until March," he winks, looking pleased with himself as he kisses the side of Sirius' head before having a shower, and when Sirius opens the box, he sees a gold ring lying there with a moon and a star engraved on the band.

"I fucking love you, Moony," he says to himself, shaking his head in disbelief and then grinning as he hears laughter from the other side of the wall.

The rest of his birthday follows its usual pattern as he enters the Great Hall and his friends break into yet another round of Happy Birthday. Like usual, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw reluctantly join in while the Slytherin glare and tell them to shut up.

He has cake for breakfast, obviously, a small chocolate cupcake, but when he reaches for another one, there's a slice of lemon and blueberry cheesecake on his plate instead.

"Seventeen different flavoured cupcakes for your seventeenth," Peter explains when Sirius asks how it got there. "I told you I was the house elves' favourite."

He has classes, unsurprisingly, but he and James take the same ones, so they get to grimace at each other when Slughorn gives him a golden ticket to his next Slug Club meeting. Professor Flitwick stands up in excitement and gives him a party hat that ripples different colours, and all of his friends are in Transfiguration with him during his last class of the day when Professor McGonagall not only wishes him happy birthday but also hugs him in front of the entire class.

He grins smugly at everyone, even though his heart wants to curl up and weep, and then blows a kiss at Marlene when she pulls the finger at him, looking betrayed.

Dinner is another four cupcakes, vanilla, red velvet, Victoria sponge, and apple before they head back to the dorm to get dressed, his black leather jacket laid out, ready to go, along with his black ripped skinny jeans and whatever band t-shirt Remus will let him steal.

Marlene, Mary and Lily come in to give him a present, his very own tube of eyeliner, which Marlene then proceeds to put on him until he finally decided he’s ready.

"Party time?" he checks, looking excited.

"Party time," everyone replies, getting up to go when –

"Sirius, wait," Regulus calls, holding something behind his back, and when all his friends wait with him and Regulus does nothing, they get the message and go downstairs before Sirius closes the door so they're alone.

"I'm waiting…" he says slowly, and Regulus looks uncharacteristically anxious as he passes a thick envelope between his hands.

"Do you remember when we were younger, and you said you'd take me to see the Northern Lights to prove that muggles built them out of stardust?"

Sirius laughs, swamped in nostalgia, but also rolls his eyes. "You know that's not true, right? They're just solar flares refracting within the Earth's atmosphere."

"Yes, I know that," Regulus snaps before he frowns, still looking nervous as he holds out the envelope. "You did promise you'd take me though, but I thought you might have forgotten, so I figured I'd just take you instead."

Sirius freezes, staring at Regulus' hopeful face, before he takes the envelope, pulling out their overnight portkey booking for August twenty-fifth, and he can barely find the words to speak.

He made that promise ten years ago, and now, ten years later, here they are.

"You have to wait a while for us to go since the best time to see the lights is during an equinox, and we have school in March," Regulus starts explaining, but Sirius cuts him off as he steps forward to hug him tightly, closing his eyes before he does something stupid and embarrassing like cry.

He doesn't know when he last hugged his brother for something happy; there have been the nightmares, the attack, and the entire ordeal over summer, which he still hasn't fully explained, but right now, he's just hugging his brother because he loves him. 

"Happy birthday, Sirius," Regulus says again.

"Love you, Reggie," he replies, wiping his eyes as they walk down to the party.

"Yeah," Regulus replies, looking pleased with himself as he follows behind him. "Love you too."

Lily has one cider, sipping on it slowly, having too many things planned for the weekend to afford to be hungover, but that cannot be said for the rest of her friends.

Sirius is happily drunk after his seventeen firewhiskey shots for his seventeenth birthday, which he shared with Remus, James and Peter, and even though it's a Wednesday night and there's school tomorrow, most people don't seem to care.

There are people making out on the couches. There's someone asleep on her favourite study desk. There's what feels like the entirety of Hogwarts crammed into the common room, making every inch of carpet the dance floor with the marauders unsurprisingly at the centre of it, while she stands on the outside and wishes they'd start playing some abba when she catches sight of Emmeline Vance.

Lily likes her hair and thinks jealously of Emmeline on days when her own hair won't curl properly, or the plaits she leaves in overnight come out lopsided, and she wishes she could have hair like Emmeline that always looks the same every day.

Emmeline has nice eyes, too, almond-shaped and brown. And she's cut her hair recently. And she's coming over.

"Hi!" Emmeline calls, giggling slightly with flushed cheeks, and Lily waves, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking down to make sure her shoes are clean.

She doesn't even know why.

"Hey," she replies, never having seen Emmeline like this. "Having fun?"

"Yeah, I've been looking for you," she says, putting their faces so close to each other that Lily can smell her cherry lip gloss. "Just wanted to say you looked pretty," and then Lily watches in almost slow motion as Emmeline moves in.

Lily has a split second where she could move away, but she can't explain why she doesn't.

And then she's kissing Emmeline Vance.

It hits her that she's having her first kiss, one outside of third-year spin-the-bottle and fourth-year truth or dare, and the fifth-year snogging craze that she never took part in.

Emmeline is fit with a toned waist that Lily hesitantly rests her hands on while Emmeline places her own around her shoulders.

It's nice, better than she'd thought it would be, even though she doesn't know where to put her hands and if she's kissing her right or going too slow or too fast.

Then it hits her that she's kissing a girl, but it's too good to pull away, and Emmeline is running her hands through her hair, and Lily has goosebumps over her entire body and –

"Lily?" Emmeline asks, blinking in surprise before squinting to look at her closely. "Lily? I thought you were Lucy; why didn't you push me away?"

Lily doesn't feel so confident anymore and is mildly panicked as she tries to figure out who Emmeline thought she was, why it was so good, and how she's supposed to come to terms with how it's never going to happen again.

"I should go," Emmeline says, stumbling slightly before she wanders off and starts talking to Lucinda Talkalot who keeps grinning at her feet and tucking her hair behind her hair, and Lily stands still, reeling from what just happened, as Mary runs over with flushed cheeks, but genuine awe as she looks between Lily who's half lying against the wall and Emmeline who is dancing again.

"Did you two just?"

"Yeah," Lily says, blaming the fogginess around her brain on the cider, as Mary pulls her by the hand to sit on the steps towards the dorms, where it's much quieter with a semblance of privacy.

"Huh," Mary says, something sad and hopeful all at once in her eye that Lily can't explain as they sit in silence. Then, "I never thought you'd do that."

"What? Kiss someone at a party?" Lily asks.

"Kiss a girl," Mary says after a long moment.

"Me neither," she says quietly, and it's nice to know what Mary's thinking right now as they think of the muggle homophobia that she knows she'd be facing if she were to do this in an ordinary pub.

"Would you do it again?" Mary asks next, and Lily can't explain how the answer is yes and no at the same time.

"I don't know if hookups are my type," she says, now that apparently Emmeline and Lucinda are something, and the only other queer women at Hogwarts she knows are Marlene and Dorcas. "Even if I wanted to, though, I haven't exactly got any options left here."

"There's me," Mary says boldly, looking her in the eye, "so if you ever change your mind, let me know."

Then she squeezes her hand and smiles at her, just like she always does when Lily needs reassurance before giving her space. Lily just sits there, trying to process how she came to this party as a straight girl and is leaving as an unlabelled queer with what she thinks might be a date invitation from her best friend.

She sits on the steps for a good twenty minutes before she gets up and finds another cider.

A hangover tomorrow will be the least of her worries.

James,

You'll love the drama from Sirius' party. Evan and Barty kissed (apparently a semi-common thing I was not aware of?) and now only talk to each other to fight, which would be annoying if it weren't so entertaining.

The latest:

Evan: "I didn't kiss you, and if I did, then I was too drunk to remember it."

Barty: "You drank fucking orange juice!"

I've never enjoyed a potions class more; I'll tell you more about their conversations before we go to bed.

Have you got anything exciting for me?

Happy Friday, 

Reg.

Reg,

That sounds like how Remus and Sirius used to be, word for word. You're lucky you weren't at Sirius' fifteenth and didn't share a dorm with them for the five days they refused to talk to each other after they kissed but didn't know how to explain their feelings to each other.

They're obviously fine now though, so hopefully Evan and Barty make it work. It's not something I saw coming, but I've been told I can't predict relationships well, so who knows.

There is more that happened at the party, but they've asked me to keep it quiet so I can't say sorry (it's not about your brother, so I promise you don't need to worry).

I know Hamish Boot asked out Amy MacMillan, and she said yes, but I don't think you'll consider that very exciting.

Happy Friday evening,

James.

The next three weeks are largely uneventful but are filled with lots of little moments that make them quite enjoyable.

Peter gets chosen to go to Beauxbatons in March to represent Hogwarts at the European inter-school magical chess tournament.

Remus' parents tell him about a new potion on the market called wolfsbane to help minimise the pain of transforming and tell him that he's been chosen to be one of the anonymous trial participants for the next twelve months.

Sirius gets four weeks of detention reduced from his remaining twelve weeks after Professor Sprout sees him helping a second-year Hufflepuff who got bullied by Slytherins.

Regulus finishes his physiotherapy appointments for his hand and starts going places on his own again, even though he always tells Sirius where he's going beforehand.

For James, the past three weeks have been leading up to this weekend, the first quidditch match of the season.

It's Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and James' first game as the team captain. He's never been more excited as he runs his team through more drills than ever, practices starting earlier and finishing later as they try to get a head start on the season with the first victory of the year.

There's only one sleep left, and they've finished their last practice and are getting changed before dinner, so when he gets to the dorm, he sees Peter waiting for him, and he grins as he quickly throws on a hoodie and tracksuit pants before they walk down to dinner together.

"Good day?" James asks as they walk through the common room, and Peter shrugs. "It was just a day." Then, "Good practice?"

"Yeah!" James replies enthusiastically, thinking about how his team has improved in the last three months and how Katie Abbott, the new third-year chaser, had run up to hug him when she perfected the spinning-dive shoot. "It was a good practice."

"The best I've ever played quidditch was when I was at Sirius' over summer last year," Peter says thoughtfully, keeping the conversation going. Then a quieter, "Do you think you might make it over to his at all over Christmas," asking, but refusing to push, and James swallows heavily, knowing what it means to go home and knowing what it means to leave, but his choice was made the day he first met Sirius on the train. 

"I actually don't think I'll be going home again," James says, words scratching his throat as they come up. "I'll be staying with Padfoot now."

Peter just bumps their shoulders together, even though he's not quite tall enough, so he hits James' arm instead as he gives him a genuine smile and says, "I'm happy for you, Prongs."

Then they walk in silence for a little longer until Peter breaks it again with an abrupt change in conversation.

"Hogsmeade next weekend," he says lightly. "Are you taking anyone?"

"There's no one left to take, is there?" James asks rhetorically, trying not to be sad about it but still thinking of Lily and what they could have been, especially when he heard she kissed Emmeline at the party. "Everyone is already on dates, or they're like you and shut down everyone who asks."

"I just don't want to date anyone yet," Peter shrugs. "Maybe one day, but I don't feel ready for it right now."

"Fair enough, but everyone who wants to is going on a date or going with friends, and I'm the only person in the whole school left who isn't, so I'll be lonely!"

He knows he's being dramatic and can easily go along with his friends, but he doesn't care. Sirius would be dramatic with him, while Remus would tell him there are bigger things to worry about, but all Peter does in the same innocent tone of voice is say, "Regulus hasn't been asked either; maybe you could ask him and be lonely together."

"Yeah," James breathes, nodding along in agreement. "Me and Reg together, that's a good idea."

"So you'll ask him now?" Peter asks, looking like he's about to laugh.

"Not now," James says slowly, thinking out loud. "If we lose the match, then I might have to spend Saturday replanning our quidditch strategy, so I'll wait and see how the match goes, and if we win, I'll write to him tomorrow."

"Prongs, Prongs, Prongs," Peter says in faux pity, even though his eyes are mirthful. "There's a long road ahead of you."

"What?" James replies in confusion. "Reg seems like the person to appreciate having choices, so I'll make sure I'm pretending to talk to you while he opens the letter so he can choose what and when he'll reply."

"You think he'll say no?" Peter asks flatly, looking unimpressed as ever, and James' gut twists at the prospect of it.

"I hope not," is all he says before they get to the Gryffindor table, and he's swept into a new conversation.

Reg ,

I am aware you make your own choices, but if that choice isn't to wear red to the match tomorrow, I'm willing to help you remake it.

If you don't own anything red, I have a spare Quidditch uniform you can borrow if you like? It has my name on it, but I have a good name, so I don't know why you'd mind. 

Happy Friday evening,

James

James,

Yes, I own red. No, you can't make me wear it. Yes, I'll argue with you about it anyway.

I'd wish you luck for the game today, but you don't need it. You'll disagree with this, but it's only a good match when it's Gryffindor vs Slytherin. If either team versus anyone else, the winner is known before the game begins.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

Reg,

I won't say you were right since you never know how a game can turn out, but we did win, so there's another party tonight! 

The first game of second term is Gryffindor vs Slytherin, so I hope your team has been training!!!

Also!! It's Hogsmeade this weekend, and everyone is going there for dates, which leaves the two of us alone, so do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?

Happy Saturday evening,

James.

Regulus reads the letter, rereads it and then commits the last sentence to memory. 

Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?  James has written. He shouldn't have bothered to ask because Regulus was always going to say yes.

It's not a date,  he tells himself firmly, reading the sentence over and over, even as he feels like there's champagne flowing through his veins. It's not a date, be normal about this.

He hadn't even thought about going to Hogsmeade, but now that James has brought it up, he can't get it out of his head.

It's not a date, he knows it's not a date, but what if it was? 

Sirius always used to tell him he was a good actor.

"So," James asks eagerly once Regulus puts his letter away. "Will you come to Hogsmeade with me?"

"I only reply to your letters in the morning," he replies blandly, cutting up his shepherd's pie and starting to eat. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"But that's fourteen hours away!"

"Pity."

The quidditch post-match victory party isn't as busy as Sirius' birthday party, but it's definitely more chaotic. It's technically Gryffindor-only, but nobody voices this to Regulus, probably because he spends most of his night following Sirius around.

None of his friends are here except Dorcas, but she's busy dancing in the middle of the crowded floor, which Regulus wants no part of. Whenever she sees him though, she runs towards him and pulls him to the middle of the dance floor, and then laughs when he squirms and runs away.

Her eyes are much brighter than usual, and she keeps giggling, which she doesn't usually do, but it all makes more sense when he sees the hip flask Marlene pulls out of her bra and hands over, which Dorcas swigs down before she takes a sip for herself.

"Do you want some," Marlene asks, stumbling over her feet in her haste to hand him the bottle. "It's good, I promise it's good."

"No," Regulus replies faintly, staring at the bottle like it's about to burst into flames. He's never drunk alcohol outside of family dinners before and doesn't think now is a good time to start when he's going to be seeing James soon and doesn't know how much of a filter drunk-him will have.

"You need to have fun, Reg," Dorcas exclaims, eyes squinting as she looks around the room before they light up.

"Oi! James! James! Potter! James fucking Potter or whatever your middle name is!" she yells, tugging him along by the arm as she pushes past people to get to him, ignoring his furious protests. "James! Hey, James, over here!"

James turns around confusedly, lifts a hand to wave at Dorcas, then drops it as he sees Regulus.

"James!" Dorcas shouts when they're standing face to face.

“Dorcas… hi…” James replies slowly, as he looks concernedly between her clearly drunk face, then Regulus' scowling one, then back to her.

"Reg wants to have fun with you," she slurs, making Regulus wince at her poor phrasing.

"Reg does not," he mutters, but neither her nor James seems to hear.

"Oh, he does, does he?" James asks, grinning, mood changing in a heartbeat as he grabs his hand. "Come dance with me!"

"I just escaped the dance floor," Regulus protests, trying to pull his hand away so James holds it tighter and fighting down a smile when his plan works.

"One song only, and then you can go again," James counters, dragging him along until they're under the disco ball, staring at each other through the swirling lights, and it feels like fate when the first slow song of the evening comes on.

"Dance with me," James repeats.

James' first thought is that Regulus looks beautiful as he stands before him, the disco ball acting like a spotlight as it shines on Regulus, making him all James can focus on.

His second thought is wondering if that's a weird thing to think about one of his friends. He'll tell Sirius he looks good when he wears his leather jacket, and he'll tell Mary she looks pretty when she wears red lipstick. The only other person that he's thought was beautiful has been Lily, but it's not the same to think Regulus is beautiful since he's a boy.

"Is it weird to think your friends are beautiful?" he asks anyway.

"Very," Regulus replies flatly, but James can't think of another word to describe him as he scowls his way through the dance, leading effortlessly and laughing whenever James trips on a complicated sequence.

"Well, I disagree," he says simply. "You look beautiful, Reg."

James should've known that Regulus would blush beautifully too.

Neither of them says anything else until the song is over, and another slow song sounds out, which is when Regulus starts to pull away, but James desperately doesn't want him to go.

"Don't I get a turn to lead the dance?" he blurts out, fully aware that he cannot dance but uncaring as Regulus hesitates. 

Then, "You can lead?" he asks sceptically, and James feels an instant need to defend himself.

"Yes," he replies, sounding offended even though he's lying through his teeth. "Let me show you," and then he places one hand on Regulus' shoulder, which Regulus rolls his eyes at as he moves it to his hip, and then they start to dance.

They don't even make it to the chorus until Regulus starts fussing again, batting James' hands away and taking over as the lead.

"If you wanted to dance with me, you should've just said," Regulus mutters under his breath, as he places one of James' hands on his shoulder and starts doing the same dance as before but with a slightly faster timing. "Oh I can dance, I can lead, he says. No you fucking can't, James. You just want to dance with me."

James watches him, transfixed like before, as he continues insulting James's lack of dance skills and then the song finishes, Regulus pulls away again, and James runs out of excuses.

"Dance with me?" he asks simply, and he doesn't even know why Regulus looks so offended.

"What do you think we've just been doing?" he snaps, gesturing between them. "Just because you can't dance, I thought you'd at least recognise what it looks like when it's done well, or are you now the expert on that too?"

"I meant keep dancing with me. I'm having fun with you," James amends, trying to stay serious but laughing anyway, and something seems to shift between them as Regulus freezes, looking James in the eye, glancing down and then back up.

"Reg…?"

"You can't dance to this song unless it's a waltz, but that's too formal for a party scene," Regulus says abruptly before walking away, leaving James trying to piece together what just happened. He's tempted to follow him until he sees him talking to Sirius, arguing about something, and figures it’s best not to get involved.

Remus, unsurprisingly, is also next to Sirius and gives James a shit-eating grin as he stands next to the record player and mouths, "You're welcome."

"For what?" James yells back, but the words get lost in the music, and Marlene, Mary and Lily run over as Mamma Mia sounds out, and James starts to dance again.

Regulus has to get away from James right now, or he's going to kiss him.

You're beautiful. I'm having fun. Dance with me, Reg.

He thinks he'll have a hard time sleeping tonight, let alone in James' bed with James in it.

He needs to get as far away from James as he can and is planning to hide in the dorm and take some dreamless sleep like a coward before he does anything stupid. He makes a beeline for the staircase, but someone reaches out and snatches him aside before he can make it there.

"Who the – Sirius?"

"You looked to be having fun," Sirius teases, looking satisfied, and Regulus wants to argue but knows he can't pull it off.

"Reggie?" Sirius asks next, quieter and more concerned in the face of his silence. "You are alright, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," he replies, face breaking into a smile that he tries to hide. "I'm just going up early."

"You're more than fine; you're in love. Do you love him? Wait, ew, don't tell me that. But do you?"

"No!" Regulus cries, the mental whiplash of the conversation leaving him reeling. "We're not even dating!"

"Yet," Sirius says lightly as they walk toward the stairs. "You can thank Moony for the music as well," and Regulus' head snaps around in betrayal while Remus only smirks and waves.

"I hate all of you and am going to bed."

"Whose bed?" Sirius asks, trying not to laugh.

"James' because you won't replace the sheets on your own."

"I told you they were under my bed if you changed your mind," Sirius says seriously before his face cracks into a grin. "Of course, I'm sure you'd rather stay with James," and Regulus huffs in frustration and storms up the stairs.

"Oi, Reggie," Sirius calls as he goes.

"What?" 

"Cast a silencing spell if you're actually going to sleep because we might come up later once the party gets shut down."

Regulus doesn't reply, but Sirius doesn't follow him, so he assumes he's satisfied.

James has been dancing. And talking. And laughing. And singing a duet with Sirius on the table. And having a butterbeer chugging competition, which he always loses when the bubbles get up his nose.

He's about to take a broom someone left in the corner and fly it around the common room when Professor McGonagall walks in, the music shuts off, and the younger students start running towards their dorms.

"Minnie!"

"Mr Potter, get off that broom!"

"Yes, Professor," James says quickly, leaning it against the wall while Sirius asks if she's here to join the party.

"It is past midnight, Mr Black, and I can assure you that if I were to come to a party, I would not arrive in my dressing gown."

"So we can get back to it?" James asks, smiling innocently before McGonagall looks at them and says sharply, "If I hear another noise from this room, you will be in detention for a month."

"I already have detention for two months –"

"Mr Black, I will make it six if you don't go to bed this instant," she snaps, and he and Sirius laugh as they run up the stairs.

"Night, Minnie."

"We miss you already, Minnie."

"See you tomorrow, Minnie."

Then they're back in the dorm with Remus, Peter, Lily, Mary and Marlene.

"The party isn't over yet!" Mary calls out, pulling out a truth or dare game that lights up green when you tell the truth and red when you lie, setting it in the middle of the circle they've sat in on the floor.

"Whose up first?" she asks, and everyone unanimously votes James.

"Have you ever kissed someone in this room?"

"Sirius in third year," he answers, and everyone laughs as the light turns green.

"Marlene," James asks next, who is laying her head in Lily's lap and looking like she's about to fall asleep. "What is your favourite thing about Dorcas?"

"That she's going to start her own fashion company one day," she replies dreamily. "Did you know she made me this outfit in two days because I said I had nothing to wear?" 

The light turns green, and then she turns to Peter with a wicked smile.

"Pete, fuck, marry, kill McGonagall, Slughorn and Dumbledore."

"I don't want to do any of that to any of them," Peter exclaims, looking horrified as everyone laughs.

"Nah, but if you had to."

"I just wouldn't," he says, and even though it's a slightly underwhelming answer, the light turns green, and they all move on.

"Lily," Peter begins, but she shakes her head. "I'm going to get a jumper quickly. Ask someone else, and I can go after them," and Peter waits until she leaves the room before he smiles innocently and looks at James.

"As a follow-up to your previous question," he says casually. "Is there anyone in this room that you want to kiss?"

"No," James replies promptly, another easy answer, but the light turns red.

It's a lie.

Everyone's heads slowly turn to him, but James can't explain himself.

He's getting over Lily; he's accepted that he can't have her and has been respectful, but more importantly, Lily still hasn't come back.

She isn't in the room.

"Ask me that again" he demands, and when Peter does and he answers no, the light turns red.

There's someone in this room he wants to kiss.

Sirius. Remus. Peter. Mary. Marlene.

It's like a game of Cluedo with all the opposite intentions, but he doesn't know how to solve it.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to kiss any of you," he stutters, trying to blink away the confusion swirling through his mind. "You're lovely, you're my friends, I love all of you, but, no."

He knows he doesn't want to kiss Sirius; they're best friends, always have been, and are just friends.

"I don't want to kiss you," he tells Sirius, who seems amused by the entire situation.

"You don't want to kiss me," he confirms, and then James moves to Remus.

He doesn't. They're friends. It's his best friend's boyfriend. 

Same with Peter, it's his friend, his best friend, but still just a friend.

And Marlene has Dorcas, and she's like a sister.

And Mary's lovely, but he doesn't want to –

"What the fuck is going on?" James asks, looking up desperately and Peter seems to look a little guilty at how his simple question is sending James into a spiral, but he doesn't know what's going on.

He wants to kiss someone in this room. He doesn't want to kiss anyone in this room.

"Ask me more questions so I can find out who it is," he says, and everyone seems to freeze.

"James..."

"Do it!" he asks, feeling slightly hysterical. "How can I not know who I want to kiss?!"

"Maybe you're worried what their brother will think," Remus asks, but all of Mary's brothers are under ten and won't care, and James knows Marlene's brother Danny likes her.

"No, that's not it," he replies, and the light flashes green. No one looks more surprised at that answer than Sirius, so maybe that's why he asks the next question.

"Maybe you don't want to make things awkward by bringing them back to the dorm," but James shakes his head at that, too.

"Sixth years and up can go into each other's dorms, so that's a solvable problem if it becomes one. That's not it either."

The light goes green.

James feels on the cusp of a mental breakdown right now as he sits there, looking desperately at his friends and trying to figure out which one he has a secret crush on.

But it’s none of them.

He knows it's none of them, and it doesn't make any sense to have a crush on them.

"Are you sure that works properly," he asks weakly, gesturing at the device, and Mary looks at him pityingly as she picks it up and slips it in her pocket.

"I sure am," she says apologetically. "Maybe sleep on it and see if you figure things out in the morning."

Then she pulls away a still-drunk Marlene, and they hobble out of the dorm until it's just the four marauders left.

"Guys," James begins, feeling awkward and upset. "I'm sorry, I don't know which one of you it is, and Remus, Sirius, I'm not going to try to get between you guys, so don't worry about that. Pete, I know you're not looking for anyone right now, so I might just go to bed and figure things out. Sorry, I don't want it to make things awkward and –"

"It won't change anything, I promise," Sirius says, holding out his pinky until James smiles slightly and links his, then nearly laughs when Remus and Peter link theirs together, too.

"Go to bed, Prongs," Sirius says quietly. "We'll be back soon," and then they all leave the dorm to give him some space, and he changes into his pyjamas, feeling like his movements are slow, and his thoughts are sluggish as his brain rotates around his friends.

Sirius. Peter. Remus. Mary. Marlene.

It's one of them, and James doesn't know who. He doesn't see how this could have happened.

He's still trying to find an answer as he goes to get into bed and then freezes when he sees Regulus lying under their duvet, sleeping innocently.

He's been in the room the entire time.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

James,

Yes, I'll go to Hogsmeade with you.

Happy Sunday,

Reg.

Chapter Text

James,

Is everything okay? I haven't seen you in two days.

You have the map so you know how to find me if you want to talk.

Happy Monday,

Reg

Reg,

Everything's fine; I'm just busy this week. 

Happy Monday e vening, 

James.

James,

You're always busy and never like this, so I know something has happened. What's wrong?

Happy Tuesday,

Reg.

Reg,

Nothing is wrong with me.

Happy Tuesday evening,

James.

James,

So something is wrong with me then. Thanks a lot for letting me know.

Happy Wednesday,

Reg.

James knows he's been acting weird.

He's avoiding his friends who know more about him than he knows about himself, and he's especially avoiding Regulus who James now feels too much for.

He's never minded Regulus having a crush on him before; when he was twelve and Regulus was eleven, it was cute.

When they got older, it was sweet, entertaining and good for James' ego, but it was still just Sirius' little brother.

Now Reg likes him, James likes him back, and he has no idea what to do.

He thinks his panic is a little justified given how dating a boy wasn't even a thing he knew someone could do until Remus admitted to crushing on Sirius in fourth year, and he didn't even know he wanted to date a boy until three nights ago.

James knew he was pan as soon as Sirius started explaining sexualities to him and didn't have a problem with it, but he's realising now that there's a huge difference between telling himself he's pan and actually admitting to the world that he likes a boy.

He hasn't slept in the same bed as Regulus since the party, hiding away with Peter for two nights, then with Remus and Sirius in a very overcrowded single bed, but now he's banned from both of their beds until he talks to Regulus.

James knows what his friends are trying to do, he knows what he's going to do, but hates how hard it's taking him to get there, especially knowing how easy it was to confess his feelings to Lily since she was a girl.

His parents were harsh enough when they found out he liked a muggle-born; he doesn't think he'd survive the conversation if they found out he liked a boy.

He goes down to the quidditch pitch, runs a few laps to clear his mind, and then lazily flies around the pitch as he pieces together all the important thoughts that remain inside his head.

He likes Regulus, and Regulus likes him back.

It sounds so simple on paper.

Regulus is upset with him.

Again, an easy fix if James just talked to him, but that's exactly what he's finding so difficult.

Regulus hasn't revoked his agreement to come to Hogsmeade with him yet.

A silver lining.

James likes Regulus. Regulus likes James. James' parents don't want him to like a boy.

James' parents aren't here, and he isn't going home again.

He lands his broom and holds today's letter in his hand, rereading it over and over and feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably.

That means something is wrong with me,  Regulus had written, his hurt palpable through the page, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Regulus, James has learnt, is a lot like candlelight.

There's a certain duality to him; he can hide in the shadows and be ignored for hours, in the same way he could set the world on fire with only one wrong move.

He's a flicker of calligraphy in his daily letters and a flicker of a smirk when James tells a good joke, and, like candlelight, he's flickering constantly in the recesses of James' mind, bathing his existence in such delicate warmth.

The problem with candlelight, however, is that it only needs one harsh burst of wind to disappear.

Mind made up, James lands on the ground, locks up his broom and walks back to the castle.

He's going to find Regulus and tell him exactly how he feels.

Regulus doesn't know what he's done wrong.

James is acting weird, and he can't even figure out how because he hasn't seen James in days. 

He won't sit at their table in the library, is never in the dorm during the day, and is so hellbent on avoiding Regulus that he won't even sleep with him anymore. The first night, Regulus wasn't bothered because he figured James didn't want to wake him after he went to bed early at the party and thought it was sweet.

Then the pattern continued, and the feeling changed to hurt rather quickly.

Even James' letters are short, emotionless and full of excuses, so Regulus is a little concerned and a little anxious but mostly just sad.

Another day of his classmates mocking him with snide comments and water pistols don’t help matters at all, nor does the Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson where they're supposed to physically get in the Black Lake to study Grindylows in their natural habitat.

Regulus refuses, unsurprisingly, but it doesn’t take long for Nott to sneak up behind him and push him in.

The water isn't deep, which is probably the only reason Regulus doesn't send himself into hysterics, but it's still far too soon after his previous drownings for comfort, his chest stuttering with every breath, which is only made worse when he's pushed down each time he tries to get up. He curses the next person who tries, walks out of the classroom without being dismissed and after a long hot shower that almost burns his skin, he curls up in James' bed feeling tired and alone.

Things are only made worse when Toto arrives with today's letter, and it's the longest one this week, but it's somehow worse than the rest because of how much hope it gives Regulus just to let him down.

Reg,

I promise it's nothing you did; it's nothing either of us did, but it's just what happened. I've been sorting some stuff out, but I think it's sorted now. 

I'm happy to talk if you are, but if you don't want to, then we don't have to. 

Happy Wednesday evening,

James.

Regulus doesn't have a happy Wednesday evening. He has a shit evening, just like he's had a shit Wednesday and shit Tuesday and shit Monday, all thanks to James.

It's nothing either of us did, but it's just what happened,  James had written. Sounds like a convenient way of saying James got sick of him, just like he feared.

It must be hours he lies there, sad, tired and alone because Sirius has detention and isn’t back until curfew, Peter is at chess club, and James is doing whatever James does, which is something he doesn't care to share with Regulus anymore. He tries to occlude his feelings so he can fall asleep and block out the world for a while until the door swings open, and Remus walks in, doing a double take when he sees Regulus.

"Alright?" he asks slowly.

"Hmm," Regulus replies non-committally, fully expecting Remus to leave him to his misery, so he's surprised when he sits on the bed opposite him and rests his chin on his hands.

"I assume this is about James," Remus doesn't quite ask, gesturing broadly at Regulus and his self-pitying slump, and Regulus sighs, half wanting to cry but unable to summon the energy.

"I don't know what I did," he admits, swallowing down the lump in his throat, mildly offended that Remus looks reluctantly entertained.

"Don't blame yourself, Regulus," Remus says seriously. "This is all James. He's finding it hard right now because his crisis is about you, but he's nearly worked through it."

While Regulus doesn't think Remus is lying, his words aren't entirely reassuring.

"So James thinks I'm different somehow," he says flatly, tasting the words on his tongue and disliking their bitterness.

"Not quite," Remus replies slowly, nose wrinkling in mild distaste that turns quickly into wry amusement. "James thinks you're special."

"Does he now," Regulus replies with a bitter laugh, before trying to tune out Remus' vague attempts at conversation until he sees him hanging his pillow from the ceiling, which is strange enough to make him slowly sit up and stare in bewilderment, hoping for an explanation.

"You still want to learn how to throw a punch?" Remus asks.

"Really," Regulus answers, perking up immediately and letting Remus guide him through one of the few things that could possibly distract him from James right now.

"So to start, you want to put your hand into a fist – no, put your thumb on the outside, or it'll break when you hit something," he starts explaining, reaching over and touching Regulus' hand, adjusting his posture as he sees necessary, and obviously smothering down laughter when Regulus makes his first attempt.

"Stop laughing!" Regulus cries indignantly. "I hit the pillow and it's your bad teaching if I did it wrong!"

"Right, sorry," Remus replies, obviously not meaning a word of it as he demonstrates again and helps guide Regulus' arm in a curved motion instead of a straight line. "Try that," and when Regulus does, feeling a notable difference in how it was before, he can’t help but feel pleased when Remus nods approvingly.

"Much better," he says, adjusting the spell on the pillow so it moves higher. "Now it's a little different in terms of wrist positioning if the person is taller than you, which you'll experience more often –"

"I'm 5'9"" Regulus interrupts.

"That's not impressive when you're 6'4"" Remus snorts, entirely uninterested in his interjection. "Now, like I said, you'll be the shorter one more often, so I'll stand behind you and guide your hand, because you have to drive with your leg so you don't strain your shoulder with the added height. When I hold your elbow here, can you –"

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice cries from behind them in obvious irritation, and Regulus startles and turns to see a weary-looking Sirius next to a very indignant James.

"We're –" 

"It's none of your fucking business," Regulus snaps, cutting Remus off.

"It is if you're touching each other in the public dorm space," James argues. "Were you going to hug? What are you two even doing here alone? Why are you by his bed when you sleep in mine?"

Remus is obviously trying to tell James to shut up, and Sirius is trying to pull him out of the room to take a walk, but Regulus can't hold back the weeks' worth of hurt and confusion that manifests into a ball of rage. 

"Because we're friends, which is more than I can say about us," Regulus hisses, enjoying how taken aback James looks at the statement. "If we were going to hug, which we weren't, then it's none of your fucking business, and he was teaching me how to fight, which is also none of your fucking business and thank god the new sheets arrived today, so I don't need to sleep with you anymore since you're such an entitled prick, and I swear if you ever have the need to comment on anything I do ever again, just remember that it's none of your fucking business!"

He almost screams the last sentence, completely ignores the way James moves fretfully towards him and snaps the curtains on Sirius' bed shut behind him before casting a silencing spell when James tries to apologise for the fifth time.

He should be sorry. What a shame it's too late for Regulus to forgive him.

James doesn't know how it all went so wrong so quickly.

He's staring at the closed curtains around Sirius' bed, still feeling Sirius' arm across his chest from where he'd tried to pull James back, and he finally lets him, slumping against his chest in pure despondence, as he tries to make his mind catch up to what just happened.

He's supposed to be asking Regulus out right now; they're supposed to be planning their first date, but instead, they're fighting, and Sirius is –

Oh.

Sirius is angry. At James.

"James!" he exclaims, looking more shocked than anything but still obviously displeased. "Why did you say that? Why would you say any of that to him?"

"I don't know," James stutters, unsure where his reaction came from and why it was directed at one of his best friends. "I was so set on talking to him, but then Remus was hugging him, and it wasn't what I'd planned in my head and –"

"Regulus thinks you hate him," Remus interrupts, making James snap his head around to look at him. "He's having a shit time already, which isn't your fault, but you're not helping him at all."

"He doesn't want my help," James admits, words cutting his throat, but Remus doesn't let him pity himself and simply says, "he wants you though, and that should be enough."

Remus walks away after that, clearly having said his piece and the air feels heavier now that it's Sirius' turn. It rather feels like he's being told off by his parents, but without all the usual pain and screaming.

"He's my brother."

"I know," James replies weakly.

"So," Sirius continues emphatically. "If you're going to date him or whatever this is, you have to do it right."

James, stupidly, is trying not to cry.

"I'm trying," is all he says, begging Sirius to see the truth in his words, and whatever is in his face at least makes Sirius soften a little as he murmurs, "I know how you love people, Prongs, and this isn't it." Then his face takes on a slightly harder look as he gestures towards the bed and says "go fix it."

James nods, not wanting to let anyone else down, and Remus and Sirius at least pretend to give them privacy, as James walks closer to where Regulus is hiding from him.

He calls his name, but there's no reply, not that he was expecting one, and when he reaches out to pull back the curtains, he jolts his hand back in surprise as he's literally shocked by whatever spell Regulus has cast to keep him out.

He tries again with the same result, a sharp burst of electricity stinging the palm of his hand, and while James is aware he should be put off by this, he can't help but think of what Remus said he thinks you hate him, and Sirius, go fix it.

Then he thinks of Regulus, who he's wanted to see all week but hasn't known what to say.

Right now, he just want to say hi.

James braces himself, flings the curtain aside and then hurtles his body onto the mattress before yelping in surprise and alarm as the bed continues to shock him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Regulus blurts out in high-pitched distress as he hurriedly cancels the spell and then, anger forgotten, stares wide-eyed at James, breathing heavily.

"I wanted to talk to you," James says simply, giving him a crooked smile, and Regulus almost looks hopeful before his face shuts down.

"No."

"No?" James repeats incredulously, shuffling backwards until he’s seated properly on the bed. "Too bad, I'm going to talk with you anyways; you said I could talk to you."

"And then you treated me like shit for five days, so the offer is retracted," Regulus snaps, but he hasn't physically pushed him out the bed, so James just keeps going and hopes for the best.

"Now I may have been unreasonable," James continues, ignoring Regulus' interjection of a disbelieving "may have been," "and I've been wanting to talk to you about everything going on but haven't known how."

"Then write it in a letter and piss off."

"I want you to hear this from me," James says, and when Regulus actually looks up and doesn't say anything, James figures this is his invitation to speak.

"I realised I liked you at the party and have been struggling to process it," he blurts out, getting the hardest part out of the way. "I've taken my – do not say it's a struggle to know you because it's not – but I took my time to think everything through and figure out how I feel instead of rushing into things because, obviously, that didn't work last time, and I've decided I'm ready to tell you that I like you and I hope you still like me so we can see where things go between us."

James is proud he's gotten the words out, hasn't screwed this up, and is feeling hopeful, but Regulus' expression hasn't changed.

"Prove it," he says sharply.

"Prove it?" James repeats, genuinely astonished because that's the last thing he'd expected Regulus to say. "How do you want me to prove it? How can I prove it? Do you want me to pinky promise?"

"I want you to find a way so I know you're not just lying to make me forgive you," Regulus replies in the same dull tone of voice.

"Have you forgiven me?"

"Not the point James," Regulus snaps, and James pauses, thinking quickly before he runs out of the room to the girls' dorm, taking Mary's truth machine that created this entire problem in the first place, and placing it on the bed between them.

Regulus watches it gingerly and James wraps his arms around his knees and says "I like you and that wasn't a lie and I'm sorry for ignoring you all week while I worked through my feelings, and I do like you and I do hope you still like me and I do still want to take you on a date."

After a short moment that feels infinite, the light turns green, and Regulus breathes out a soft "oh" as his face lights up in delight.

"I really am sorry," James adds quietly, the green glow of the truth machine illuminating his words. "I promise I'll do better, and I promise I'll be better, and I promise I'll make it up to you."

"If you ever want space, you just have to ask," Regulus replies, not quite replying to what he's saying but trying to get rid of the lingering awkwardness after their first official fight. "There's nothing wrong with needing it; I won't be offended if you want some now."

"Maybe from everyone else, but there are still stars in space, right?" James asks hopefully, holding out a hand in invitation, and after trying and failing to repress his smile, Regulus reaches up and takes it.

Reg,

Three days until Hogsmeade!

Happy Wednesday Evening,

James.

James,

I do own a calendar.

Happy Thursday,

Reg.

Reg,

Two days until Hogsmeade!

Happy Thursday Evening,

James.

James,

As per my last letter.

Happy Friday,

Reg.

Reg,

Hogsmeade tomorrow!!! 

Happy Friday evening,

James.

James,

I've gone for an early breakfast with my friends, but I'll meet you in the entrance Hall at 9 for Hogsmeade today.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

"Do you think Regulus is going to think this is a date?" James asks as he puts his tie on, takes it off, and then goes to retie it.

"Do you think you're going to think this is a date?" Peter asks in the same tone of voice, throwing the tie on his bed and smirking when James says nothing, too preoccupied with pulling off his white shirt to put on a different white shirt, trying to figure out which one Regulus would like better.

"James, you don't even like collared shirts," Peter sighs, simultaneously amused and exasperated. 

"Regulus does though," he replies distractedly

"Regulus likes you, not your shirt –"

"Oh, he'll comment on it," James cuts in with absolute certainty, but Peter isn't put off.

"After having lived with him for the past two months, I'm sure it he’ll have nothing nice if you wore a collar and then complain about it for the entire day. Plus, he'll be wearing one too and won't want to match."

"Right, no collar then," James says, reaching for his wand. "Should I cast a severing charm or –"

"Where is Sirius when I need him," Peter sighs in genuine despair as he looks back at James. "Do what you like, but Regulus will make some rude comment if you wear that shirt."

"Perfect," James breathes out, putting his wand away. "I love it when he's mean to me." Then he finishes buttoning up his shirt again, pulls on his denim jacket and walks out the door to find Regulus waiting in the Entrance Hall.

"Hi," he says, excited and smiling, and Regulus looks up, his face briefly soft before his eyes widen.

"You're missing a button," he says, gaze lingering far too long on his collarbone, so James steps forward, forcing Regulus to look away.

"I know," he grins. "What about the rest of the shirt?"

"It's got a collar," Regulus frowns. "You hate collars."

"Is this you saying you hate the shirt?" James challenges, knowing full well how it's a little tight on his arms and the rest of the buttons are just far enough apart to show a flicker of his abs if the wind blows right.

He knows Regulus sees it too as his eyes flick over James' body, up, down and up again before they rest on his face and his lips curl up at the corners.

"It'll do," he says, sounding pleased and James grins, unbelievably proud of himself as he follows Regulus out the door and into the snow.

Regulus is having the time of his life as he walks side by side James in Hogsmeade.

People are staring, one girl takes out her camera to take a photo, but Regulus doesn't care enough to pull the finger at her as James waves to his friends and narrates everything that comes to his mind.

He'll comment on the lamppost and how it reminds him of a book he read when he was eight and the first time he saw snow and how he's never been ice-skating and why he thinks they should go to the shops first, and then go and get a butterbeer because it'll be less busy that way, and “is that okay with you Reg, because I know you prefer to avoid the crowds.”

Every word that leaves his mouth only reminds Regulus of how unfailingly kind James is.

Anything Regulus suggests they do, James accepts and has the time of his life while he does it. Anything Regulus looks at in a store, James buys for him, and now, after hours looking at books and sweets and owls, they sit in the Three Broomsticks where James drinks his butterbeer with a smug smile and Regulus scowls and shoves his wallet back into his pocket.

"I have money," he says accusingly, staring at James across the table.

"And I have an inherent need to spend mine on you," James replies sweetly, smiling in a very self-satisfied way as Regulus gives in and takes his butterbeer.

"You're annoying," Regulus says flatly.

"And funny and pretty and kind and thoughtful and wholesome and sweet and caring," James lists off promptly, not put off in the slightest.

"Says who?" Regulus scoffs.

"Says you, across the years," James replies, his smile half amused and half genuinely pleased, while Regulus only feels a rush of mortification at his other self that colours his cheeks and makes him drop his head into his hands while James laughs at him.

"So, do you think it's still true?" James asks, leaning forward eagerly, and Regulus wants to say yes because it is true which James deserves to know, but he can't get the words out.

If he's said it before, it surely shouldn't be that hard to say again, but somehow it is.

"I know who Jesus is," Regulus says instead, and James blinks, momentarily surprised, before he shrugs and lets the conversation move on.

"Yeah…?"

"I read the book about him; the collection of his biographies in a big book called the bible, so I know as much as any muggle believer now."

"What's it about?"

"Well, it's a rather long book," Regulus replies drily, and James huffs in annoyance, even though he's laughing as he says, "Summarise it then. What part do you remember the most?"

"In the modern English translation," Regulus begins, feeling as though he's about to release the secrets of the universe. "There's a part of the bible that reads God is a Potter and we are the clay." 

"You don't really believe that," James replies dismissively, shaking his head, but the sad, tragic truth is that Regulus does.

James Potter is a god, and Regulus is nothing more than clay, waiting to be touched, loved, and moulded to his design.

Pathetic,  Regulus thinks to himself, even as he swallows heavily, looks James in the eye and says, "Don't I?"

James freezes for a moment, his face wide-eyed and stunned, before it splits open into a broad smile, which fades quickly to nervousness as he reaches into his pocket and hands Regulus a letter.

"We're missing dinner today, so you can just have it now if you want," he explains, trying and failing to be nonchalant. Regulus takes the envelope slowly, unfolding the letter and trying to ignore how closely James watches him as he reads it.

Reg,

I've had the best time with you today and want to ask you on a proper date next weekend. 

I have quidditch practice both days, but thought you could take me to the Astronomy Tower on Saturday night and tell me more about the stars. 

If you don't want it to be a date, that's okay; I still want to know about the stars.

Happy Saturday evening,

James.

"So?" James asks, leaning forward hopefully.

"I didn't see you write this," Regulus replies uselessly, staring at it in pure exhilaration, the words date and James running around his head too fast to keep track of. "When did you write it?"

"Last night," James replies simply, like he's not actively changing Regulus' entire perception of love with two simple words. "I knew I'd have an amazing time today and wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Well," he says, blinking rapidly at the page, knowing he has to say something nice in response but coming up with nothing. "I only reply to your letters in the morning."

"Regulus!" James exclaims, looking utterly scandalised. "You can't not reply; you  have to do  something. "

"I'll reply tomorrow," Regulus repeats, smiling slightly before outright laughing at how offended James looks.

"Give me a clue, please, at least something to work with," James begs as they stand up to go, and Regulus doesn’t let himself think too hard as he reaches out and takes James' hand, staring resolutely ahead as they walk down the high street.

He can still see the way James' face lights up in his periphery, squeezing his hand back in response.

Regulus feels himself falling harder, but he doesn't mind really; he has faith that James won't let him hit the ground.

James,

Yes, I'll go on a date with you IF I can take you on one when we're back at mine for Christmas. 

Happy Sunday,

Reg.

Reg,

Dating you isn't transactional; just because I'm taking you on one, doesn't mean you have to take me on one.

Happy Sunday Evening,

James.

James,

Let me take you on a goddamn date.

Happy Monday,

Reg.

Reg,

Okay :)

Happy Monday evening,

James.

James has planned many dates with Lily in his head, but none of them have given him the same amount of sheer excitement as planning an actual date for Regulus.

It's a date. It's an actual date that James offered and Regulus agreed to, and James genuinely hasn't stopped smiling since the moment Regulus took his hand in Hogsmeade.

The only other person who seems as excited about their date as James is Sirius.

"If this works out, you'll officially be my brother!" he keeps saying as they sit on the Quidditch Pitch before practice. "What ideas do you have? Anything you choose, he'll like since it's you, but there are things he'll have to try harder to pretend he's unbothered by, so what are your ideas?"

"I'm taking him to the Astronomy Tower tonight to go stargazing," James says excitedly, waiting for Sirius' approval, who only frowns in confusion and says, "You know fuck all about stars."

"Well, we're going, and he's going to tell me all about them," James elaborates, and Sirius looks at him in awe.

"James," he says meaningfully, serious all of a sudden. "Trust me when I say this, okay?"

"Okay…?"

"Regulus is going to marry you one day."

"We haven't even had one date yet," James replies, rolling his eyes even though every part of him is thrumming in excitement. "What's his favourite food? Should I bring snacks for when we are stargazing? Does he like picnics?"

"Don't bring food; he'll just get offended," Sirius warns. "He'll say something like, why is there food here? It'll only distract us from actually looking at the stars." Then he scowls and adds, "he'll probably say the same about you."

"Right," James says, smugly cataloguing that away in his mind as they grab their brooms.

Three more hours, one more practice, and then he'll be on his first date.

James has a good practice, more energy and excitement than ever, and he thinks his team picks up on his pure enthusiasm, so they push themselves harder than ever and James ends the practice half an hour early as a reward.

"Practice match against Ravenclaw at 10am tomorrow," he calls as he packs away the snitch while everyone else heads towards the changing room. "Don't be late!" 

Everyone gives weary but happy sounds of agreement except for Sirius, who stays to help like he always does, before he tells James to leave without him.

James protests, but Sirius has always been more stubborn, so he walks slowly, mind reeling with confusion until he passes by the stands and comes face to face with Regulus.

"Oh, hi," he grins, instinctively reaching to take his hand and link their fingers together. "I’ve been so excited I've been for tonight, and I'm in the best mood after practice; I did three Wrongski feints and managed to shoot a goal while hanging off my broom! It was after I tried to do a spinning throttle which didn't quite work, but I still did it –"

"I know, I saw," Regulus says lightly, looking pleased with himself, and James feels like he's been set on fire in the best way possible.

"You watched my team practice? Did you see the goal Alice made and the way Toby hit the bludger across the entire length of the pitch?" James asks breathlessly, chest pulsing with fondness that grows exponentially as Regulus looks at their joined hands with a beautiful blush colouring his cheeks and murmurs, "I was only looking at you." 

James wonders if the first date is too early to start falling in love but isn't afraid to find out as he and Regulus walk up to the castle, hands lightly swinging over their trail of footprints until they're at the top of the tower and Regulus breaks away to stand at the edge, palms braced against the windowsill and head tilted up to the sky.

"One of the only good things about winter is that it's darker for longer, and there's more time to see the stars," Regulus says, staring almost wistfully at the sky, but James can't bring himself to pull his gaze away from the way Regulus' face is illuminated by the soft light of the cosmos.

"What's your favourite season then?" James asks softly. "Summer?"

"Autumn," Regulus breathes out, still looking at the sky. "There's something mesmerising about the way the whole world slowly dies around you, and while Winter is like walking through a catacomb, you know that for every leaf on the ground and frost-covered field, time will pass, and the world will inevitably have colour again. There's consistency in the chaos for those who take the time to notice." 

There's something mesmerising about you,  James thinks, moving to stand next to him as they look at the sky together.

"That's sad, Reg," James says out loud, despite being deeply impressed he actually has intricate reasoning behind it. "Mine is Autumn too, but that's because I get to go back to school and start quidditch again."

He isn't at all surprised when Regulus throws a dry look his way, before he goes back into what James privately calls philosopher mode.

"It's not sad to me," he explains to the sky. "It's hopeful. It shows that life gets shit, and then it gets better, and every bad day is one day closer to having a good day again." 

"What season of life are you in at the moment?" 

"Definitely Spring," Regulus says, smiling to himself with some private secret James doesn't understand. "I've been waiting my whole life for the sun, but it's here now."

"I'm glad," James replies, hoping it's the right answer and feeling pleased when Regulus smiles again; something that does nothing but good things to the ever-growing butterflies in his stomach.

"What's that star there?" James asks randomly, pointing at the first one he sees to distract himself. 

"Atik, which is one of eight stars that form the Perseus Constellation," Regulus replies instantly.

"And the W shape?" 

"That's the Cassiopeia constellation, which comprises five stars and contains the furthest star humans can see without a telescope. I have an aunt called Cassiopeia actually, but I haven't seen her in a while."

"What's your favourite star?" James asks next, expecting another quick answer, but instead, Regulus seems to hesitate, giving him a long side glance before he mutters, "I don't have a favourite."

"Of course, you have a favourite; I know you do," James argues, not believing him in the slightest and trying to pick out the emotions on his face. "Is it in the sky right now? Will I know what it is?"

"No," Regulus bites out, clearly forcing the words through his teeth, and James looks closer as Regulus looks away, oddly embarrassed. 

But why on Earth would he be embarrassed about a star –

"Oh,"  James breathes out, a rare wave of tenderness pulsing through him. "Oh, I do know it, it's Siri –"

"Don't say it out loud," Regulus snaps, more appaled than James has ever seen him. "And no, it's not."

"Don’t be embarrassed, I think it's sweet," James grins, but when Regulus continues to glare mutinously, James smiles innocently and mimes zipping his lips shut.

There's a long pause where Regulus is obviously deciding if he wants to address their conversation or not, and he clearly decides on the latter as he turns to James and asks, "What's your favourite star? You have to have one, too, so I'll point it out for you."

"My favourite star isn't in the sky," James admits, and in a burst of impulsivity, he leans over and takes Regulus' hand before kissing his cheek just as the announcement rings across the school that there are 10 minutes until curfew.

"We should head back, I guess," James says, champagne flooding through his veins, and Regulus steps back slowly, taking one last glance at the stars before he hands James an envelope.

"For tomorrow," he explains, lips curling up at the corners. "I wrote it in advance."

James,

I want to take you on a second date when we're back home for Christmas. We probably can't go anywhere alone, but we can go ice skating in the garden, and I'll give you a lesson. It won't matter if there's no snow; my dad can cast the charm so the lake freezes anyway.

If you ever tell Sirius about what you found out in the tower, I will retract this offer and destroy any semblance of friendship that we may have formed.

Happy Sunday,

Reg.

Three days before the Hogwarts Express leaves for the Christmas break, James is delivered not one but two letters at breakfast, and all of the deep-rooted anxiety that had felt distant these past few weeks comes rushing back so fast he thinks he might be sick.

"You alright?" Regulus asks quietly before leaning over in alarm when he recognises the wax seal. "James? What is that? "

James barely hears him, mind stuck on the last time he spoke to his parents before he came to Hogwarts.

His father had broken his arm after he had said he didn't want to be a Death Eater, and his mother had watched it happen with her usual blank expression, only having one thing to say as he'd lain sobbing on the floor.

"This isn't what I raised my heir to be," she had said in contempt, but their silence is obviously over now.

He doesn't think he's ever let her down this badly; he’s stayed friends with Sirius, isn’t going to the unofficial Death Eater meetings that the Slytherins hold, and he doesn't think there's anything that could make her more apoplectic than not only liking boys, but actively dating one.

Especially the brother of Sirius Black, who is the one who "led James astray" back in first year. The same boy he can barely hear through the ringing in his ears as he tries to will himself to open the letter.

Regulus' owl, whom he got when he was six and named Owly, is still sitting on the table in front of him, waiting with his own letter, but James can't think about that right now.

He keeps staring at the crest, trying to psyche himself up to open it, only to have the parchment ripped out of his hands. He jolts to see Sirius tearing the letter open, skimming it first with a scowl, then offence on James' behalf, then a flash of alarm before he pulls out his wand and sets it on fire until it's nothing more than a pile of ash, scattering slowly in the wind.

"That was my letter," James says, tongue feeling too big for his mouth as he struggles to imagine what his parents will be like when they don't receive a reply. "Sirius, what did it say?"

"A load of shit," he replies simply, even though he still looks a little uneasy. "Read Reggie's letter instead," but James can’t look away from how Sirius motions to Owly, before scribbling off a quick note that he addresses to his parents.

"What's that?" Regulus asks from next to him, watching the two of them closely, and James wants to ask too, but still can't seem to find the words.

"Nothing."

"Let me –"

"Regulus!" Sirius says harshly, more serious than James has ever seen him, and Regulus blinks a few times, clearly taken aback, before he concedes and turns to James, nudging him until he looks up.

"Want me to skip morning classes?" he asks quietly, eyes still flickering uneasily between him and Sirius.

"You have a Charms test second period," James replies with a shake of his head.

This at least makes Regulus' lips quirk up the corners, and he loses some of the anxiety in his face that James assumes gets transferred to the ever-growing lump in his stomach.

What was in the letter? Why did Sirius look like that? What do my parents want from me now?

"Do you want me to skip anyway?" Regulus asks, and James forces himself to shake his head again.

"I’ll be fine, just come find me in the library when you're done."

"See you later then," Regulus says softly, squeezing his hand quickly under the table, before James is left facing Remus and Sirius, who he has Transfiguration with first period. Remus is looking conflicted, Sirius has his face carefully blank, and James knows his anxiety is all on show, as much as he tries to hide it.

"I love you, Prongs," is all Sirius says before walking away, which makes Remus sighs a little, his same conflicted yet tired look on his face as he stands up and grabs his bag, waiting for James to do the same before they walk in silence together.

It isn't until they're at the top of the staircase and halfway down the seventh-floor corridor that Remus finally speaks.

"Everything Sirius does, he does for you," he says, which makes James look up.

"What's he doing then?"

"I don't know," Remus replies honestly. "But you know him, and you know it's for you."

It's a very vague, very ambiguous sentence, but it makes James feel a little better anyway.

Regulus is on edge for the rest of the day.

He's already nervous enough about going home and seeing his parents again, but the simmering nervousness in his stomach has been replaced with chest-clenching fear at whatever is happening with James and his parents.

Regulus can't imagine what would happen if he ignored a letter from his real parents and is terrified on James' behalf to find out.

He wants to ask James about it, but when they sit in the library, James doesn't bring it up, so Regulus doesn't either.

There’s no new updates until after dinner when Sirius comes back into the dorm, obviously having been crying, and walks straight over to James, hugging him tightly and whispering something Regulus doesn't hear.

"I still don't know what Sirius is doing," James whispers when they're in bed that night, nervous and afraid. "He just said he floo called his dad and that he loves me, but I don't know what for and why."

"I do," Regulus breathes out, finally recognising the look on Sirius' face; it's only ever been pointed at himself before, but it's one he's seen all his life.

He's seen it before the first spell is cast in the drawing room and when Regulus was imperioed to eat his dinner after he'd decided to be vegetarian. He's seen it with the wordless spells in public and the screams behind closed doors.

The fear in Sirius' eyes and the tightness of his throat is the look of their childhood.

"James," Regulus says hoarsely, wishing he knew how to make things right. "I think he's trying to save you."

Reg,

How have you already packed? And how does your trunk look so neat? I always shove everything in and get Sirius to sit on the lid until I can close the latches, but yours opens and nothing falls out???

You continue to amaze me more and more every day.

Happy Thursday Evening,

James.

James,

I'm so glad my natural aptitude for domestic tasks is keeping you around.

I don't know if Sirius has told you yet, but I got a letter from my mum saying that we're flooing home instead of taking the Hogwarts Express, so at least your trunk doesn't have to stay closed for long.

If you're so easily impressed, try folding your clothes! Or pack your trunk in advance so you don't need to shove everything in!

Happy Friday,

Reg.

Reg,

Sirius won't tell me anything anymore. I still don't know what's going on.

Happy Friday evening,

James.

James,

I don't know what's going on with Sirius either, but there's no one I'd trust more than him. It'll be okay.

Once again, never tell him I said that.

Happy Saturday,

Reg.

Regulus is the first one through the floo on Christmas Eve and is spat out into the living room to see his parents waiting for him.

It's so different to the usual feeling of being picked up at the station by Kreacher and being lucky if he sees his parents at all that he can’t help but smile, more grateful than ever to be here.

"Hi," he breathes out, giving a quick hug to his mum, then a much longer one to his dad, as he basks in the feeling of having a warm home while James is hugging his mum, and Sirius is with his dad who whispers something to him making him almost slump in relief.

Then, after a quick dinner, which is mostly filled with Sirius and James chattering away about anything and everything they can think of, they're sent away to unpack and shower before being ushered to bed, which causes the first argument of the holidays.

"C'mon, Prongs," Sirius says as they put their empty mugs on the bench and move as slowly as possible to stay up longer. "My bedroom is the first door on the right on the third floor, so you can put your trunk there –"

"Why would he put his trunk in your room when he's staying with me?" Regulus asks in confusion until he sees the stubborn look on Sirius' face that he instantly mirrors. "No, James is my – friend," he says after a slightly awkward pause. "He's staying with me like always."

"James is my best friend, so he's staying with me," Sirius argues, looking at Regulus like he's stupid, which god, he's forgotten how frustrating Sirius can be when he's not actively trying to be nice.

"You're only saying this because you have to have everything, aren’t you! All you do is take, take, take –" 

"At least I'm not a whiny little brat who still needs their parents' signatures to do anything."

"I know how to punch."

"Fucking try me, Reggie!"

"Boys!" their mum cuts in, already looking tired. "How about you all just share a room together?"

"I'm not sleeping with him," they reply in unison with identical looks of disgust.

"Then compromise, or you can all sleep on your own," she says with finality, and Regulus glares, unwilling to change his mind, so he waits for Sirius to fold.

"You get James tonight and tomorrow if I get him for the next three nights when Remus and Pete come over on Boxing Day."

"Deal," Regulus bites out.

"Good then," Sirius replies, equally as unimpressed, before dragging James behind him, claiming if they can't share a room, then they can at least brush their teeth together. 

Regulus glares as they go before jumping as his mum wraps an arm around his shoulder.

"You've gotten a lot bolder with your intentions with James," she says, her tone light and teasing, and Regulus groans, shoving her away lightly and walking out of the room.

"I told you he was looking back," she calls, her laughter following him down the hallway, and Regulus ignores her as he runs up the stairs, lips twitching despite himself before he steals James from Sirius and pulls him into his room.

"So?" James asks quietly as he walks through the door. "What's Christmas like in your house? What can I expect?"

The problem with such a simple question is that Regulus actually has no idea. This is his first Christmas that he thinks actually deserves the title, as all the others he's celebrated have been full of family he doesn't like and food he doesn't eat while dressed in heavy robes he doesn't want to wear.

This is also the first Christmas in three years that Regulus is spending with Sirius, and more importantly, the first Christmas in five years that Sirius actually wants to spend with him.

He has a present for his brother hidden under his bed, but otherwise, he hasn't got a clue what tomorrow will bring.

"It's just Christmas," he says lamely. "It's just nice family stuff all day."

"Yeah, but what does that mean," James repeats, and Regulus sucks in a sharp breath, unprepared for how sad that sentence makes him.

Then he has the thought that maybe this is how James has always seen Sirius. That maybe this is how James saw him too until he was too far gone to be saved.

"There'll be stockings on the fireplace," he begins explaining, trying to remember what Sirius had told him about how James celebrated it in first year. "Then there's the Christmas tree with lights on it, and there are presents under it that are wrapped up, and we open them in the morning and have turkey for lunch. Sometimes other family comes over, but I don't think we actually like any of our family at the moment, so maybe that won't happen."

"That sounds nice," James says wistfully, an exact mirror of Regulus' thoughts. "What about in the afternoon?"

"I take you skating like I promised."

"Really?" James gasps in excitement. "Will you really? Has it snowed enough here?"

"No, but there's a spell my father would cast whenever I got home during the holidays so I could practice, and it always lasted until I went back to school."

"Your father?" James asks, frowning slightly.

"I meant my dad," Regulus replies quickly. "But yeah, I'll teach you how to skate." Then, because he has to ask. "Sirius hasn't told you what he's being weird about, has he? I know he went to talk to dad before, but neither of them are telling me anything."

James deflates a little, looking conflicted before he looks back at Regulus.

"It's my first proper Christmas and our second date, so we're going to have a good day tomorrow," he says firmly. "Whatever is happening with my parents can wait until Christmas is over."

"Okay then," Regulus replies, holding out his pinky, and as just as he knew he would, James' face splits open into a grin as he reaches out and locks their fingers together.

"It's Christmas, Prongsie!" Sirius shrieks the next morning, shaking James awake and startling Regulus in the process, partly because it's still far too early and partly because it still surprises him every time he sees Sirius back in this house.

It's even stranger when he goes downstairs in his pyjamas and sees his parents in their dressing gowns, his dad wearing a Santa hat, and his mum setting out plates of mince pies and glasses of orange juice around the room.

Hung over the fire are five stockings with each of their names embroidered, and knowing James is watching him for cues, Regulus glances at Sirius to see him reach inside his and copies him, half expecting to be cursed for trying, only to pull out a bag of fizzing whizbees, a new pair of socks and, embarrassingly, a pair of underpants, that he shoves back into his stocking before James can see them.

James and Sirius are much less bothered by their stocking fillers, which are identical to Regulus’, except Sirius has a box of liquorice wands while James has a box of pepper imps.

Then they start to open the presents under the tree, the ones Regulus peeked at and was stunned to see were labelled for him, and it's nerve-wracking when his mum hands a wrapped box with his name on it, love mum and dad as the signature, and he realises he doesn't know what to do.

"Open it, Reggie," Sirius says impatiently, and gingerly, Regulus peels back the tape so it doesn't tear the paper, unfolding the ends until the box springs open.

He pulls out a new pair of quidditch gloves, a broomstick servicing kit, new quills, and a stack of books, some of which are written by muggles, that Regulus didn't even know he wanted to read until he held them in his hands.

"Thank you," he breathes out, staring at his gifts in delight before hugging his parents, secretly pleased when they hugged him back before he turns to watch James open his present. 

It turns out to be similar to Regulus’ with brand new quidditch gear, but there is also a pair of high-top red Converse that James’ mouth drops open at, as he stares at them in awe.

"Oh, thank you", he exclaims in genuine excitement, pulling the socks from his stocking on his feet before putting on his shoes. "Marlene is going to go insane when she sees these!"

Then it's Sirius' turn, and Regulus can't help but be curious as to what his gift would be, and how his parents see him in this life. He’s expecting something exciting, something Sirius, and he’s not wrong as he watches him pull out a temporary tattoo gun that Regulus stares at in horror.

"Why would you give him that," Regulus exclaims, instinctively shifting backwards when Sirius points it at him, but his parents only laugh while Sirius smiles sarcastically and says, "Because they love me and know I don't want shitty books."

"Just because you can't read –" Regulus snaps defensively before he cuts himself off in panic as he watches Sirius give presents back to his parents. He didn't know that was something he was supposed to do. He doesn’t know if it’s normal, but god, is this the moment the charade is up?

"These are from me and Reggie," Sirius says simply, handing them over and Regulus watches with no small amount of stress as his mother opens a beautiful silk scarf and his father opens a new leather wallet with an infinite expansion charm to carry his money around in.

Then Sirius hands a small present to Regulus, which turns out to be a leatherbound journal, and Regulus runs upstairs to give him a silver chain necklace that Sirius opens with a quiet "fuck yeah, Reggie!" before instantly putting it on.

It’s quite wholesome, all things considered, Regulus decides. His presents all seem rather self-indulgent, but he can’t bring himself to feel too guilty when James and Sirius got the same, and when the presents are all open, he doesn’t know what else to expect, but it’s not to help with preparing lunch.

It turns out to be quite fun though as they all sit at the table with carols on the radio as he peels potatoes, Sirius grates the cheese, and James chops the carrots, which they sit down to eat three hours later.

It's the turkey and roast potatoes that Regulus had predicted, but there's also fried halloumi, especially for him, and he watches in amazement as Sirius laughs as he pulls a Christmas Cracker with his mum while his dad wears a purple paper crown on his head.

"I'm so glad this is my Christmas," James whispers to him when him mum brings the Christmas pudding over, the flames slowly fading away, ready to be replaced with custard.

"Yeah," Regulus whispers back, basking in the warmth around him. "Me too."

In his old life, after lunch was over, Regulus would usually hide in his room because after wearing his best dress robes and being on his best behaviour at a six-hour banquet, he didn't have the energy left to do anything.

In this life, though, the routine is somehow worse as they go to the river to walk off their lunch, which Regulus thinks is the most ridiculous idea he's ever heard.

It's December, it's cold, and he’s supposed to be teaching James to skate right now.

And it's not even a nice river; they live in London, and no one ever has anything good to say about the Thames, especially when James and Sirius start playing the most disturbing game imaginable of who can find the weirdest item in the river, so he's relieved when they turn back down a side street and slowly start getting closer and closer to the ice rink in the backyard.

They're at the top of the road, and he and James are so close to their date –

"So, what's everyone doing this afternoon?" Sirius asks out of nowhere. 

"We're going ice skating!" James says excitedly.

"We are?" Sirius asks.

"We are," Regulus replies, turning around and gesturing forcefully between himself and James. "You are not."

"I'm seventeen, I can do what I want," Sirius replies dismissively, "and I want to go skating."

"You haven't skated with me in years!" Regulus cries out, blurring the timelines in his annoyance. "You just want to sabotage any chance of happiness I have –"

"Christ, shut up, Reggie," Sirius interrupts, rolling his eyes. “I literally said I was going to Remus' after lunch five times so you can go kiss my best friend in peace all you like."

"We're not going to –" he sputters, but everyone laughs at him, even James, like a little traitor, so Regulus stalks ahead and sulks, shoving the front door open and stalking through the house until he footsteps run up behind him which he ignores until he turns to sees James grinning at him.

"Hi," James says happily, matching his step as they walk out the back door. "You look annoyed."

"Maybe it's because you're annoying," Regulus replies flatly, lips twitching until James simply replies, "Nah," and he once again stares in shock at the audacity of James Potter.

James only reaches down to link their hands, swinging them lightly as their footsteps crunch across the frost toward the frozen lake.

"Not so annoying after all," he says in satisfaction as Regulus squeezes his hand back before his face turns hopeful. "Will you still give me a show before the lesson?" 

"What do you mean by a show?" Regulus asks exasperatedly, looking down at his boots to hide his grin. "Explain what you want because I could probably just balance on one foot, and you'd be amazed."

"You can skate on one foot?" James gasps, eyes lighting up in wonder. "Can you really? 

Regulus just rolls his eyes fondly and skates fifty metres away before he turns around and, after a short run-up, goes the entire way back to James perfectly balanced, left foot behind him before he ends it in a twirl.

"You're so good at this," James praises, still looking amazed, and Regulus smiles sweetly and says, "Wait until you find out I used to be able to do a backflip."

As he'd predicted, James' mouth drops open.

"If I didn't already like you, I would've asked you out just for that. Can you do one now?"

"Probably not," Regulus admits with a frown. "I haven't skated properly in years, so it's mostly just basic twirls, double axels, a triple if I'm having a good day. There's a photo in the parlour of me doing the backflip, though."

"How do you skate if you're having a perfect day?" James asks, apparently deep in thought. "I'm having a perfect day with you today, so what do I have to do to make your day perfect so you can do the backflip?"

"I meant a good day on the ice," Regulus replies, his voice far too soft to be anything but fond, before completing a line of four triple-A's in quick succession and taking James' hand to pull him toward the centre, laughing a little when he tries to slow him down. "You were promised a lesson, so let me give one to you."

He’s had this planned this out in his head for weeks, knows to start with skating in a straight line, then basic jumps, then a spin depending on how James progresses, but what he'd failed to account for in his head is the stark difference between him and James.

Regulus is a born perfectionist; he wants to practice every twirl and spin and leap and jump until he's gotten it flawless, staying with one thing before he moves to the next and spending hours doing the same trick over and over until he gets it right.

James just wants to go fast.

"No, you're landing on the heel of your foot when you want to land more on the tip –" Regulus keeps trying to explain as James does little bunny hops around the ice.

"Yeah, but I'm landing them, so who cares how they look?"

"I care."

"Okay, but I don't, and they're my jumps –"

"That I taught you!" Regulus exclaims. "Skating isn't a race, James."

"Oooh yeah! Let's have a race!" he exclaims, face lighting up. "The first one to reach the tree over there wins."

"It's not about speed! It's about grace and the way you present the story you seek to tell with your movements –"

"Last one to reach the tree loses!" James shouts, ignoring Regulus' lecture and skating away. Regulus stands there, stunned for a long moment before he glides after him, catching up quickly despite James' head start, and he's grinning as he reaches the tree and spins around just to see James crash into him and send them both careening to the ground.

They're chest to chest for a long moment, faces centimetres apart, before Regulus' entire leg spasms to entirely ruin the moment.

"James, fuck, you're on my kneecap. Ow, ow, get off," he cries, shoving him away and standing up gracefully while James wobbles on his skates like a newborn foal.

"Next time," Regulus pants, still slightly winded. "Maybe don't go crashing into people when you're confused."

"But it worked," James says, smiling innocently. "I stopped, didn't I?"

"At the expense of me," Regulus cries, hand flying out to show his displeasure. "Why did it have to be me!" 

James only reaches out and catches his hand, lifting it above his head and moving it slowly, forcing Regulus to twirl into his arms, which James lowers until they're resting around his waist.

This wasn't part of the plan,  is all Regulus can think as he links his arms around James' neck, resting them gently as the world blurs around them.

It's not snowing really, just a light flurry that doesn't quite settle on the ground, but there's a snowflake that lingers on James' eyelash, disappearing the moment he blinks and when the next lands on his lip, Regulus has a desperate need to taste it.

He looks up, James looks down, and their eyes meet.

This is it,  Regulus thinks helplessly. 13 billion years worth of stardust have culminated to this moment where his past, present and future intertwine.

It's you. It's us. This is it.

"It's always going to be you," James breathes out, words ghosting over his lips, and Regulus is helpless to do anything but thread his hands through James' hair before he reaches up to kiss him.

Chapter Text

This is it,  Regulus thinks desperately as James’ teeth graze along his lip.

This is it,  as James places featherlight kisses on his neck.

Behind closed doors, first thing in the morning, and in every breath he and James share, Regulus has only one thought on his mind.

This is what I was made for.

Reg,

Merry Christmas!!!

I hope you had a great day like I did! I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a present this year, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.

As a start, I want to take you out for our third date on the first weekend of February (I’ll try make it sooner but I think the first few weeks of terms are going to be hectic) - it’s a surprise, but I promise the food will be vegetarian, and we won’t be by any water.

Thank you for the shirt and the date- this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

Happy Saturday evening,

James x

James,

You’re welcome :) And yes, you can take me out where you like; I’d follow you anywhere.

Come say hi. I know you’re only five doors away, but I miss you anyway.

Happy Sunday,

Reg x

Regulus is sulking.

He knows he shouldn’t be, knows he’s being useless and dramatic and a long list of other negative qualities that Sirius has already pointed out six times, but he can’t help it.

He just wants James. 

And Regulus knows how that sounds, wants to scorn himself for thinking it, but he can’t run from the truth when it’s rattling around all day in his brain.

James. I miss you. Where are you? When are you coming back to me?

He’s one flight of stairs away. Five doors. No more than twenty-three steps, but so are Sirius, Remus and Peter, who have stolen James away from him.

Regulus shakes his head at himself again. God, he’s pathetic.

He gives up on trying to get James alone and figures James and his friends is better than no James at all, but the minute he goes downstairs and turns the door handle, Sirius shouts “fuck off, Reggie,” so he slams the door on them and goes to sulk some more.

He finishes his transfiguration essay and arithmancy proofs, gets bored of researching the Fourth Goblin War of 1628 and is about to drag himself to the kitchen when his door opens. All he sees is a flash of James’ grin before he’s captured into a kiss that he melts into, grinning as James kisses him on the nose, forehead, then one last time on the lips before he pulls away, still smiling.

“I just came to get a hoodie, but I also wanted to say hi,” he explains, half looking around the room and half looking at Regulus.

“Hi,” Regulus replies amusedly, sneaking in another kiss that James laughs into before he frowns and looks at the bed.

“Have you seen it? My grey one? Or the red one?” he asks distractedly. “I must’ve put both of mine in the wash. Do you mind if I borrow this?” already pulling Regulus’ navy sweatshirt with the silver quarter zip over his head.

“That’s fine,” he replies a little hoarsely, eyes drawn to how it hugs his arms just right, highlights his throat just right with the slightest pink bruise from last night peeking out underneath.

“Perfect, thanks, you’re the best,” James says quickly, cupping his cheeks for one last kiss before he leaves the room. Regulus follows at a distance, planning on stealing him for a little longer when he comes back down the hall, but when it’s been over five minutes, and he hasn’t returned, Regulus frowns and walks downstairs, keeping his footsteps quiet as he hears one calm voice and one clearly panicked.

“What?” he hears James gasp. “What do you mean? They wouldn’t – Did they –?”

“They were going to take you straight from the station,” Orion replies gently. “That’s what was in the letter that Sirius called me about; he didn’t want you to worry, but everything is sorted now, and I thought you had a right to know.”

“So I’m never going back?” James checks, sounding vulnerable and afraid.

“Never,” Orion replies firmly. “I’ll take an unbreakable vow if you like because I swear you will never become a Death Eater.”

When those words finally register in his brain, Regulus forgets how to breathe.

No.  he thinks desperately. No, no, no. Not James, never James. He won’t survive the screams. Or the laughter. Or the kaleidoscopic lights that leave corpses in its wake.

James can’t be a Death Eater. He can’t, he can’t, he –

“James was going to be a Death Eater?” Regulus exclaims, all thoughts of secrecy forgotten as he stumbles into the room. “He can’t be – James, you can’t –“

“I don’t want to be!” James cries.

“And you won’t be,” Orion replies firmly before holding his wand to his wrist and saying, “I do so swear on my magic that my children will never be Death Eaters,” and Regulus and James watch in equal amazement as a line of magic surrounds his wrist, consolidating the vow before it disappears.

Regulus can’t believe that his dad is willing to lose his magic so easily, and James only sounds broken as he murmurs, “I’m not your child, Orion.”

“I do so swear that you are,” he replies simply, and another circle of light glows, then disappears as he reaches his arm forward to pull James into a hug.

“You’re never going back there,” he promises, and James nods tiredly, obviously grateful but unable to find the words.

“Thank you for everything,” Regulus hears him say before James turns back to look at him, and they start to walk back down the hallway. “Do you want to watch a movie with us?” he asks, swinging their hands and clearly not ready to talk about it yet, but neither is Regulus at the moment.

He’s still reeling from the entire conversation.

James was almost a Death Eater.

James was almost a Death Eater.

James  was almost a Death Eater.

If James’ parents are anything like his old ones, if the Dark Lord is the same as Regulus remembers, then they won’t care about the vows Orion has just made. They won’t care about what James wants. They won’t care about anything except their social standing, and they can’t be the most esteemed of the Sacred Twenty-Eight if they don’t have the Dark Lord’s favour.

If they could convert the Head Auror's son too, they'd be rich beyond belief, but James and Sirius would rather die. So would Regulus if he lost them again.

“Reg?" James repeats. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe later,” he replies with a half-hearted wave as he walks away, deep in thought. 

He hopes more than ever that his dad keeps his promises.

The door to his dad's office is closed, a clear sign not to enter, but Regulus flings it open anyway and hears the tail end of the sentence "– no leads yet but another raid in Bangor overnight –" before Orion cuts himself off with a quick "I'll call you back," and hangs up the floo. 

"Regulus," he snaps, angrier than he's ever seen him in this life. "What happened to not entering my office when the door is closed? I discuss many confidential matters here; you're lucky it was only Dave I was talking to and not the Minister of Magic –"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Regulus mutters sullenly, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away, but his dad sighs and gestures for him to come in. "You’re here now and you can always talk to me, but just knock next time, okay?"

"I know you're trying to kill Voldemort," Regulus replies instead of acknowledging his comment, and his dad stares at him for a long moment before frowning.

"That's a rumour and is confidential information within the Auror Department," he replies slowly.

"Everyone knows," Regulus scoffs, rolling his eyes, before his voice gets smaller even as he looks at his dad and says boldly, "I can help you."

Oddly, Orion's face softens with a fondness Regulus doesn't quite understand. "Reg, I understand that you have feelings for James and want to help him, but this isn't something for children –"

"No," he interrupts, shaking his head in frustration. "I mean, I can help."

His dad looks up at this, then flicks his wand to lock the door, the privacy wards activating around the study, and his voice is rough as he hisses, "Regulus, you are going to stay out of this and will not become a private investigator any longer, but right now, you are going to tell me exactly what you know."

"You're finding it hard to kill him, right?" he asks slowly, stalling for a little longer. "No matter what you try, he always survives?"

"We think he's using a magical armour that our spells can't penetrate," his dad admits eventually. "As much as I appreciate you trying to help, some things are out of your control –"

"It's not armour he uses," Regulus interrupts, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's horcruxes. He's tethered his soul to the Earth, and you have to destroy the Horcruxes before you can destroy him."

He feels oddly light in the face of confession, a part of him in disbelief that he's finally released this secret to the universe, and he breathes out in relief only to snap his eyes open as he feels a burst of cold around his heritage ring, then sees his father's wand held tightly in his hand. 

"If you weren't my son, I would've thought you were polyjuiced with that knowledge," he says calmly. "Now tell me how you know that, or I'll leglimise it from your mind."

"That's illegal," Regulus replies panickedly, backing away towards the door he knows is still locked. "You can't do that, just let me out."

"I'd rather break the law than lose my son," his dad tells him unapologetically, even though his chest seems to be rapidly rising and falling. "Now tell me where you came across this information."

"I overheard it in the Slytherin common room."

"Try again."

"I did!"

"Regulus!"

"I'm not lying!" he lies, feeling trapped as for every step he takes backwards, his father takes another toward him. 

"Please tell me, I need to know," Orion asks softly, and when Regulus shakes his head, his father takes on an apologetic look as he moves his wand.

Then Regulus is back in the cave.

Oh fuck.

He's drinking the potion.

He can't see I had the Dark Mark.

He's holding the locket.

Help.

His eyes are flicking back toward the exit, trying to make his way to safety, but he starts to drown instead.

Help.

He knows he's about to die.

They can't know.

He knows he's about to drown.

They can't know.

But his dad can't know. No one can know. No one can –

"Get out of my fucking head!" he screams, dropping to his knees as his father is pushed out of his mind, body trembling and chest heaving with the weight of the memories he's been forced to relive.

He thinks he's sobbing and on the verge of throwing up, but his brain feels too fuzzy now to actually check.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" he keeps repeating, one hand over his eyes so his dad can't try him again, and the other rattling the doorknob behind him that still won't open. "Let me out," he gasps, the personas of his father from his past life and his dad from his current life suddenly terrifyingly interchangeable. "Please let me go."

"That memory happened in the summer," his father says out loud, voice increasing slightly in pitch as he puts the pieces together. "This is what happened the day you went to Diagon and started having night terrors. Is this where the bullying started, Regulus? You didn't go to Diagon, did you? Those boys took you here. Which boys? Why did they choose you? What do they want now?" 

Regulus only shakes his head rapidly, breath starting to come in impossibly short gasps, and the door unlocks with a sharp click behind him.

"If you want to hate me, then I won't stop you," his father says as he walks away, voice cracking down the middle, "but Voldemort killed twenty-six people yesterday, and I won't let you be next."

Regulus doesn’t reply, he just walks away and tries to breathe around the sharp sting of betrayal that sits within his chest.

Everything is blurred right now.

Regulus' thoughts? Blurred.

The mental line that separates his father and his dad inside his head? Blurred.

The room he blinks at through a film of tears?

Blurred. Blurred. Blurred.

He feels overexposed, like a raw nerve ending that he still feels pulsing in his heart.

His dad saw the memory. Took the memory. Found out too much and almost enough to ruin him.

He feels dirty somehow. Violated. Feels like something is running through his blood and tainting him. Ink scraping through his arteries. An unknown viscosity clogging up his veins.

Then there's also the other part of him, the tiny little reminder inside his head that that this father who leglimised him is also the dad who cried.

He expects his father to abuse him and likes the normality of routine, even if he hates it while it happens, but he's never ever seen his dad cry, especially not because of him. Out of everything that's happened in the past five months, this is definitely one of the strangest.

It's raining outside, but he's not really looking through the window, just curled up in his bed, unseeing and hoping he won't be disturbed as he tries to come to terms with how everything went so wrong.

Naturally, his door swings open less than twenty minutes later.

It's not his father, the sight of whom would genuinely send him into hysterics right now, but his mum's presence isn't overly reassuring either. If his dad in this life can act like the father of his old life, there's no reason why his mum can't revert to being his mother again.

"Oh darling," she says gently as she sees him watching her warily, prepared to lash out, and while she steps forward with her arms outstretched, all Regulus can do is flinch away.

"He told you?" he asks brokenly.

"He showed me," she replies, her voice soft as though that makes any change to the shame, fear and vulnerability that washes over him.

His parents know. They saw the memory, heard him scream, and would've spoken about it to each other. Would've spoken about him.

"Come here," she says, wiping her eyes and sounding as wrecked as Regulus feels, which doesn't seem fair. None of this is fair. 

Memories are supposed to be private, something to keep to himself. He's never been leglimsed before, and wouldn't have bet it was these parents who were okay with it.

"Get out," he says quietly, shoving away her arms that try to wrap around him, then again when she tries a second time.

"Reg…" 

"Get out," he repeats, voice changing from soft to shouting as he hits out again. "You're in my room. You're in my head. You're in my life. Get out! Get out!"

"Regulus –"

"Get out of my fucking head," he screams before the footsteps finally recede, and he sits at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. 

"We all love you, Regulus; I'm sorry your dad hurt you, but we’re going to keep you safe now," she promises, pity, regret, and worry all circulating in her voice. "Never forget how much we love you."

Then the door shuts, and Regulus is left staring out the window again, stuck within the memories that are no longer his own.

Reg,

You didn't come back for the movie :( It was called Jaws, and you would've loved it, but I don't think I can watch it again.

Sirius says it's not a horror movie, but I think he was lying. I'll hopefully see you tonight? Just because Remus and Pete are here too, doesn't mean you can't come to hang out with us.

I miss you too.

Happy Sunday evening,

James x

James,

Didn't have a great day, sorry. Don't want to talk about it. I'll be fine; keep hanging out with your friends.

Happy Monday,

Reg x

Regulus is staring at the wall when the door opens again.

It's probably his mother. She’d come in three more times since their conversation yesterday- twice in the evening, once this morning- but he ignored her every time.

He's barely moved except to read his letter from James, write a new one or go to the bathroom, but everything else can just be blocked out of his mind.

He doesn't want to look his parents in the eye again. Doesn't want to see the mind healer his mum keeps mentioning. Doesn't want to talk to anyone about anything, least of all his parents who know far too much about what he doesn't want to say.

The more he ignores his mum, the faster she'll go away and –

"Reg?" a voice calls out hesitantly, and his confusion is enough to make him turn over and frown as he sees James standing in the doorway before he closes the door and walks over, looking concerned. Regulus briefly wonders why until he remembers he's been crying and that it's two hours later than he usually gets up.

"Reg? Are you okay? Did something happen?" he asks in quick succession, reaching out to hug him, but Regulus can't stand to be touched right now, not even by James.

Not when his memories are so fresh, and the feeling of claws is still lingering over his entire body.

He stops James from coming any closer but reaches for his hand, holding it against his forehead as though he can pull James' fingers through his skull and make him unravel all the knots that are tangled through his mind.

"I don't mind sitting here –"

"James," Regulus says, voice cracking slightly after so long without speaking. "I don't want to be rude, but I really just want to be alone right now." 

"I don't think you should be left like this when you're clearly not okay, though," James argues softly, which stupidly makes him want to cry again.

Regulus thought he'd long since reached a point of numbness, but even now, James still makes him feel when no one else can.

"Please," is all he says in the end, not quite begging, but thankfully James listens, looking sad as he steps away.

"I might know how to help," he says softly, waving goodbye, and Regulus has just about sunk back into his misery when he hears footsteps racing on the staircase before the door flies open.

"Reggie?!" Sirius cries out, rushing in as though someone might be dying and blanching as he sees him curled up under his sheets.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he asks panickedly, kneeling on the bed next to him and staring at his swollen, deadened eyes, but Regulus only puts his hands over his face to try and block him out.

"Go away."

"No ! Clearly, something is wrong because you don't want James, and you're not even being a bitch to me –"

"Sirius," he practically pleads, begging his voice not to crack. "Go away, please."

"No," he repeats, more quietly now, as he awkwardly climbs over Regulus to lie on the other side of his bed, looking up at the canopy and he doesn't say anything else until Regulus eventually pulls his hands away and watches Sirius' chest rise and fall in his periphery.

With the curtains still shut like a barrier between them and the imminent responsibilities that waking always brings, lying side by side like this is a lot like when they were younger; hiding in the shadows and whispering secrets to each other that will never see the light of day. 

Regulus doesn't feel fifteen right now; he feels five years old and as though he's just finished his first family history lesson, creeping into his brother's bedroom in tears, already finding the weight of their last name too much to carry.

History always does have a tendency to repeat itself.

"Have you ever seen our father cry?" he asks the ceiling, closing his eyes when Sirius frowns and turns to look at him.

"Why?"

"Just answer the question. Yes or no?"

A long pause goes by, and Regulus doesn't think he's going to answer, but then Sirius breathes out and says, "Only once. Remember when I was eight and fell out of that tree and had to go to St Mungo's? It was fine for me; I just fell out of the tree and then woke up healed, but Dad was the one who found me unconscious, and when we got to the hospital, the Healers told him that there was a chance I'd damaged my spine and wouldn't be able to walk again. Obviously, I was fine, but when I woke up for the first time without needing any pain relief potions, Dad was so relieved that he cried."

"Really?" Regulus asks sceptically.

"Yes, really!" Sirius replies, sounding mildly annoyed. "Just because you weren't there when it happened doesn't mean it didn't happen –"

"Okay, okay," Regulus mutters. Then, "I saw our dad cry yesterday."

"What?" Sirius asks incredulously, mouth dropping open in genuine shock. "So that's why mum was making herbal tea from scratch yesterday; usually, she only does that after a hard case at work. Did he really? Do you know why? Are you sure they were actual tears?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me why . "

After a long pause, Sirius pushes himself up on his elbows to stare at his face. "You were crying too, Reggie," he says quietly, slowly coming to his own conclusions. "What were you guys talking about?"

Regulus doesn't want to say it, wants to keep the truth for himself, but he no longer has that luxury.

And this is Sirius. His brother. They've been here before.

"Has our father ever leglimised you?" he asks in a rush, as though saying the words quickly can make them less painful, then watching warily as Sirius visibly stiffens.

Then, "He leglimised you?" he hisses, scrambling upright with fury coating every one of his features. "He fucking leglimised you? Tell me he didn't, Reggie; I swear to fucking god!"

"It was a hypothetical question," he whispers unconvincingly, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut and terrified about what will happen now. 

Long after the quiet secrets whispered into the night, he'd forgotten about this part of Sirius, too. The one that would always fight for him despite the imminent punishment. The one he could never talk down. The one who was never afraid of what their parents could do to him.

"Like fuck it is!"

"Sirius, don't –"

"Where's my fucking wand?" Sirius demands, snatching it off the desk before he marches through the house, stomping up the stairs towards their father's office. 

"Sirius, don't. Stop it. Sirius, just leave it –" Regulus keeps trying, but it's as though he hasn't spoken at all as he hurries after his brother, wondering what he'll do until he watches Sirius slam his father's office door open and scream, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Sirius," Regulus pleads one last time, grabbing his hand to pull him back, but Sirius has always been stronger and only pulls him forward into the room, angling his body between Regulus and their father as he pulls out his wand, points it directly at his father and says in a low voice, "How dare you."

Orion looks half sad, half resigned. 

"Hello, boys," is all he says before he turns his back to them and walks to the armchair, gesturing at the sofa for them to sit. Sirius doesn't move, so neither does Regulus.

"Why did you do it?" Sirius snarls, glaring at their dad like he can set him on fire.

"All I've ever wanted is to keep you both safe," Orion tells them, sadly quirking the corner of his lip. "I'd never want to hurt you to do so, but if it's the only way and you choose to hate me for it, I'm just glad that you're alive to do so."

"It's illegal to cast it on someone without their consent. I thought you were Head Auror," Sirius snaps back, entirely unmoved, but their dad doesn't hesitate to reply.

"Like I said, there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you boys alive, and if you choose to report me for this and cause me to lose my job, at least I'll have more time to spend with the two of you."

A long pause, where Regulus is waiting for Sirius to explode, but all that comes out of his mouth is a slightly hollow "Why did you think Regulus was going to die?"

"That's not what he said," Regulus says quickly.

"Reggie, are you sick?" Sirius asks frantically, eyes already glimmering with a film of tears. "Dad, what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Regulus snaps indignantly. "You're supposed to hate him with me because he leglimised me –"

"Yeah, but if you're keeping secrets that are going to kill you –"

"I'm not!"

"Regulus," his father cuts in calmly. "May I show Sirius what I saw?"

"No," he cries incredulously, heart racing erratically at the thought. "Absolutely not."

"Show me what?"

"Nothing!"

"He's seventeen, Regulus, he's an adult. He can help you too if you need it –"

"Which I don't."

"Help you with what? Reggie? Is there no cure? I can research; just tell me what you're sick with and –"

"I'm not sick, and you're not seeing that memory," Regulus shouts before he turns and storms outside, sitting against the fence around the Quidditch Pitch and mindlessly picking up tufts of grass, feeling as though the whole world against him.

Stupid Sirius,  he thinks viciously as he pulls up a clump of grass.

Stupid dad,  as he throws another tuft across the lawn.

Stupid family,  as he rips, rips, rips, rips.

He's not surprised when the back door opens, knowing Sirius would have come looking for him eventually. Still, he's not expecting hands to hook under his shoulders and drag him into a hug that's far too tight and is definitely for Sirius' benefit, not his own.

"I love you, Reggie, and you're not fucking dying on me," he whispers, his damp face pressing against Regulus cheek. 

"Did he show you?" Regulus asks in betrayal, entire body thrumming with tension thinking this is the only explanation, until Sirius shakes his head and Regulus relaxes momentarily, only for Sirius to say the second worst thing.

"He told me, though," Sirius continues from where he's still hugging him tightly, "and the minute I graduate Hogwarts, I'm going to work for Dad and catch Voldemort and all the Death Eaters at school so they can't get you again."

"But we're going to Norway in August," Regulus says stupidly, and Sirius makes some weird choked noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"I'll have a day off, Reggie; it'll be okay." Then he pulls away and turns around, giving him a half smile. "I pinky promise," he says, holding up his finger. "It'll all be okay."

Reg,

I know you’ve got stuff going on now, and I want you to know I’m always here to talk if you need me. If you don’t want to talk, we can keep writ ing letters or even spell things out with Scrabble tiles.

You speak French too, right? So you can even talk to me in that if you like.

Je suis là pour toi. Si tu as besoin de quelque chose, je te le donnerai, même si ce sont toutes les étoiles du ciel.

(Sorry if that’s not quite right; I’ve spent 3 hours reading French grammar books and dictionaries and had to get Sirius to help me with some of it, so I don’t think I can take it anymore.)

Happy Lundi evening, 

James x

James,

Un jour bientôt, je vais t’écrire une lettre avec trois mots et huit lettres en anglais, seulement sept lettres en français, mais pas encore ; peut-être pendant l’été .

Je ne veux pas jouer au Scrabble ou te parler de mes problèmes mais Remus et Peter partent après le déjeuner, oui ? Traîne avec tes amis, mais je vais pratiquer le piano l’après-midi si tu veux écouter ; je serai dans la bibliothèque au premier étage.

Bon Mardi,

Reg x

James isn't there when Regulus sits at the piano.

He tries not to take it personally; he knows he left it as an open offer, and James is fully entitled to his alone time, but Regulus is self-aware enough to know he's a selfish sort-of not-quite soon-to-be boyfriend.

He doesn't want to go look for James and be told to go away, though; he just wants things to be normal, just wants to be normal, but instead, he sits at the piano and plays songs  that gradually get slower and sadder until everything is played at a slow cadence in a minor key.

He's in the middle of Prelude in E minor, his mind so focused on the keys that he jumps and fumbles the chord when someone kisses the top of his head before sitting next to him.

"Sorry I'm late," James says with a grin as he drops his head on Regulus' shoulder. "Your letter took me two hours to translate, but I'm here now."

"Are you alright?" Regulus asks instead as his fingers play the same four chords over and over.

"Yeah, fine," James replies easily, breath ghosting across Regulus' collarbone. "I really don't mind when you need time to yourself or write me letters in languages I can't understand; I'd learn them all if it were the only way to talk to you."

"I meant, are you alright with everything else," Regulus replies, rolling his eyes even as his lips curl upwards. "You and your parents and maybe being disowned and all that."

"I don't think there's any maybe about it," James mutters before blowing out a long breath. "Everything sucks, but that means things can only get better, right? I keep waiting for a letter or a howler, but it's odd how quiet they've been. Even though I don't want them to hate me, I'd at least like to know."

"That sounds almost positive," Regulus replies, trying to figure out if James wants pity or just someone to listen.

"That's what I try to be," James replies simply, flashing him a grin before he turns to look at Regulus innocently. "I'd also feel very positive if you played something for me. Only if you want to of course, but you should, for me, if you want to."

"Like what?"

"You think I know anything about piano music?" James half scoffs in response, looking around the room for inspiration but finding nothing. "My parents made me learn the violin for years, so I had to do duets and all that, but I never liked it much and don't want to listen to any of those songs again."

"Well, you have to like this one, or I'll cancel our third date," Regulus says decisively, lifting his hand to the side of James' head to guide him to lie back against his shoulder before he returns his fingers to the keys and starts to play again.

James,

The song I played for you is called Fantasie in C major. Now, if anyone asks you about the piano or any classical music, at least you have one thing you can tell them.

Happy Wednesday,

Reg x

Reg,

That's the second thing I'll tell them. The first is that I've met the best piano player in the world, Regulus Black.

Happy Wednesday Evening,

James x